"Alright, Alan, we've spent quite a bit of time picking out your wand. Next, we need to hurry and gather the remainder of your school supplies," Professor McGonagall instructed, glancing sharply at the silver pocket watch she had pulled from her emerald robes.
"Understood, Professor," Alan replied with a crisp nod.
With Professor McGonagall guiding him through the winding cobblestone streets, Alan's next stop was Scribbulus Writing Implements. There, he purchased a thick stack of heavy parchment, several bottles of color-changing ink, and a handful of sturdy eagle-feather quills. Following that, they made a highly efficient sweep of the remaining stores. He acquired a solid pewter cauldron from Potage's Cauldron Shop, a full set of required first-year textbooks from the towering shelves of Flourish and Blotts, and finally, three sets of plain black work robes fitted perfectly to his measurements at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Rounding out his purchases, Alan acquired a handsome brown owl for correspondence, along with an ample supply of premium bird treats. He had always found owls to be somewhat comical creatures, their large, unblinking eyes giving them a perpetually surprised, almost goofy expression that he found rather amusing.
Before long, a considerable amount of time had slipped away while navigating the bustling magical district. The evening sun was already beginning its descent, casting long, dramatic shadows across the uneven pavement of Diagon Alley.
"I believe that will be all for today, Alan. You have essentially procured everything you need for your first term," Professor McGonagall announced. "It is getting rather late, so I shall escort you back to the orphanage. Although Diagon Alley is heavily guarded and relatively secure, it is still highly ill-advised for young students to wander around aimlessly after dark given the current climate."
"Thank you for all your help, Professor McGonagall. However, before I leave, please allow me to treat you to a cold drink. I've taken up the majority of your day, and it is only right that I show my gratitude," Alan suggested politely, noting that there was still a sliver of daylight left. Truthfully, the rigorous shopping trip had left him feeling slightly fatigued, and he desperately wanted an excuse to sit down and interrogate the professor further about the intricate workings of this hidden magical society.
Professor McGonagall hesitated for a brief moment, her stern expression softening a fraction. "Alright, just a quick refreshment. But we mustn't linger for too long," she agreed, reasoning that a short break wouldn't drastically alter their schedule.
With that decided, the pair made their way over to the brightly colored awning of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. They ordered two refreshing, iced fruit drinks from the cheerful proprietor and claimed a quiet iron-wrought table situated near the edge of the patio.
"Professor McGonagall, now that I am officially armed with a wand, am I permitted to begin practicing basic spells?" Alan asked casually, taking a slow sip of his chilled drink while eyeing his new black-jade wand resting on the table.
"Do not let your ambition cloud your judgment, Alan. Spellcasting is vastly more complex and dangerous than you might assume," she warned firmly. "Recklessly experimenting with magic without proper supervision can lead to utterly disastrous consequences, especially when residing out in the Muggle world. As I mentioned earlier, we are living in highly sensitive times, and the Ministry of Magic is currently incredibly strict regarding the detection of unauthorized magical activity."
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "The Ministry employs a complex, nationwide enchantment to monitor the magical activity of all wizards and witches under the age of seventeen. It is known as the Trace. The government utilizes this system to immediately detect and penalize any instances of underage magic. Therefore, you absolutely must not wave your wand carelessly while living at the orphanage. If an underage wizard casts a spell in a heavily populated magical area like Diagon Alley, the Ministry's sensors cannot accurately pinpoint the exact culprit among the ambient magic. However, if you cast a spell out in the completely non-magical Muggle world, you will light up on their monitoring network like a blinding firefly in the pitch dark."
"So, theoretically speaking, it would be perfectly fine if I were to practice my spells right here in Diagon Alley?" Alan probed, his tactical mind instantly identifying the loophole.
"Theoretically, yes. But practically, casting unknown spells without a qualified instructor present is monumentally foolish and dangerous," Professor McGonagall countered, fulfilling her sworn duty as an educator. "I am well aware that bright young wizards such as yourself possess a fierce, burning thirst for knowledge. Nevertheless, I strongly advise that you bottle up that curiosity and direct all of that excess energy toward your official studies once term begins at Hogwarts."
"Understood, Professor. I will keep that in mind," Alan replied smoothly. His face remained a perfectly unreadable mask, though internally, he was already formulating half a dozen different discreet training regimens he could test out before September.
Shifting tactics, he began to rapidly fire off inquiries. "Are there many professors with your level of expertise teaching at Hogwarts? What does the daily curriculum actually look like? And the school's Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore—what kind of man is he really?" Alan effectively morphed into a relentless interrogation machine, completely disregarding whether or not Professor McGonagall actually wanted to spend her break answering an endless barrage of questions.
"With an inquisitive mind like yours, I firmly believe you are destined for Ravenclaw House, young Mr. Wilson," Professor McGonagall noted dryly, a rare, teasing smirk ghosting across her lips as she obligingly began to address his rapid-fire queries.
"To answer your most pressing question, Headmaster Dumbledore is widely considered to be the most powerful wizard currently living in our world—or, at the very least, the vast majority of us firmly believe him to be. You will have plenty of opportunities to understand his character once you arrive at the castle. As for his whereabouts today, the Headmaster is occupied in Hogsmeade, which is an entirely magical settlement located just down the road from the school grounds. He is scheduled to interview a prospective candidate for the Divination teaching post. Though, speaking purely personally, I truly do not see the logical necessity of maintaining a dedicated class for something as imprecise as Divination."
"Professor McGonagall! I can hardly believe we ran into you out here," a bright, cheerful woman's voice suddenly called out from the bustling cobblestone street, interrupting their conversation just as they were settling into a comfortable rhythm.
Alan shifted in his iron chair and turned his head to inspect the newcomers. A young couple was enthusiastically making their way over to their table. The man wore wire-rimmed glasses, possessed incredibly lively hazel eyes, and sported untidy black hair that stubbornly defied any attempt to be combed flat. The radiant woman standing closely by his side was visibly heavily pregnant. She had cascading dark auburn hair and striking, brilliant green, almond-shaped eyes. After waving excitedly at their former professor, they strolled right over to the patio.
"Lily! James! Whatever are you two doing out and about in the alley?" Professor McGonagall asked, her usual sternness melting into genuine, pleasant surprise as she immediately stood up to greet the couple. Noting the shift in dynamics, Alan politely rose to his feet as well, standing at attention.
"The baby's due date is approaching remarkably fast, so we had to brave the crowds to pick up a few last-minute nursery supplies," James explained warmly to Professor McGonagall. His hazel eyes then landed curiously on the stoic boy standing silently beside her. "Ah, I see! You're out here playing escort for a brand-new first-year student! Usually, established wizarding families handle the shopping themselves without faculty assistance. That must mean you're a Muggle-born wizard! Good for you, mate. But tell me, young man, where exactly are your folks? Why are you out here wandering the alley all by yourself?"
James Potter rattled off the invasive questions in an incredibly casual, overly friendly manner, entirely lacking the self-awareness to realize he was interrogating a complete stranger. Catching his blunder, Lily immediately reached out and pinched her husband's arm in reprimand. James winced and looked down at his wife, thoroughly confused as to what he had done wrong.
"You have rather sharp deductive skills. I am indeed a Muggle-born wizard," Alan replied smoothly, his tone perfectly level. "As for my parents, I am afraid I couldn't tell you where they are. I have never actually met them; they passed away when I was an infant." Although the brash line of questioning was bordering on offensive, Alan didn't allow himself to get angry. After all, the man was merely stating facts, and Alan, possessing the pragmatic soul of a hardened soldier, was far more focused on moving forward than dwelling on sentimental sensitivities.
The playful demeanor vanished from James's face instantly, replaced by sheer mortification. "Oh, mate, I am incredibly sorry. I really didn't mean to pry or offend you," he apologized profusely, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally realized the gravity of his blunder.
Alan simply offered a magnanimous, dismissive shrug. "It is perfectly fine. No offense taken."
"Allow me to formally introduce everyone," Professor McGonagall interjected, smoothly diffusing the lingering awkwardness. "This is Mr. Alan Wilson, a highly promising new student joining us this term. Alan, these two are James and Lily Potter, two of my former Gryffindor alumni who graduated several years ago. Please, pull up some chairs and sit down with us." Once they were all comfortably seated around the small iron table, her tone turned distinctly chiding. "Honestly, wandering directly into Diagon Alley in broad daylight like this... especially with Lily so heavily pregnant. Are you two not the least bit afraid of the current dangers lurking about?"
"We aren't afraid of those cowards hiding in the shadows," James scoffed bravely, though his bravado softened immediately as he looked over at his wife. "But unfortunately, with Lily about to give birth any day now, my absolute first priority has to be taking care of her and ensuring she is safe. Plus, we really did need to finalize some preparations for the nursery." He glanced fondly at Lily's swollen belly, a remarkably goofy, lovestruck grin spreading across his face.
Observing the intimate, joyous scene unfolding before him, and mentally repeating the surname 'Potter' that Professor McGonagall had just provided, Alan's tactical mind rapidly began to piece the puzzle together. He looked directly into Lily's kind green eyes and asked conversationally, "How far along are you, Mrs. Potter? The baby must be due very soon. Have you and your husband settled on a name yet?"
Lily smiled warmly at the polite, articulate young Muggle-born, feeling a sudden, strange sense of maternal affection for the orphaned boy. "The healers expect the delivery to happen right at the very end of this month, actually. As for a name, yes, James and I finally managed to agree on one after weeks of debating. If it turns out to be a boy, we are going to name him Harry. Harry Potter." She finished her sentence and leaned her head against James's shoulder, her radiant face practically glowing with unadulterated happiness.
Alan felt a cold jolt of absolute clarity hit his system. The final piece of the puzzle had just clicked perfectly into place. These cheerful, vibrant people sitting across from him were the doomed parents of the magical world's future savior. Even though his memory of the actual plot was incredibly fragmented, he absolutely recognized the name of the franchise's main protagonist. This stunning revelation simultaneously confirmed the nagging feeling of wrongness he had experienced since receiving his Hogwarts letter. Harry Potter wasn't even born yet, and his parents were still very much alive. That undeniable fact meant that the dark wizard Voldemort was also still alive and currently operating at the height of his terrifying power. Suddenly, the heavily boarded-up storefronts, the severe lack of casual shoppers, and the heavy, militarized Auror patrols roaming the streets of Diagon Alley made perfect, terrifying sense. They were caught right in the dead center of a brutal magical war.