Diagon Alley crashed over Viktor in a waterfall of sounds, smells, and colors. The roar of the crowd, the rustle of robes, the clinking of coins, the hooting of owls, and the muffled crackle of spells created a chaotic but enchanting symphony. The scent of old parchment, sweet molasses, and something electric, magical, tickled his nostrils. Viktor Number 2, who had been in reverent silence until now, finally came to.
"This... this is real!" he whispered, his voice ringing with delight. He flitted around Viktor like a hungry ghost, trying to take everything in at once. "Look at these brooms! And these shop windows! Oh my, there are living books! Do they bite like in the movie? Oh, we have to buy a biting book!"
Viktor just smiled, allowing himself to dissolve into this wondrous chaos for a moment. His gaze swept over the shop windows, noting details that weren't visible on screen: sparkling potion bottles, intricate astronomical instruments, mannequins in robes that occasionally winked. He felt the magic in the air, like a slight tingling on his skin, confirming that his abilities were part of this world.
"We'll start with Gringotts, Mr. Moss," McGonagall said, pulling him out of his trance. Her voice, despite the surrounding noise, was clearly audible. "You need to check your account and withdraw some cash for purchases."
She led him down the street, navigating between groups of wizards and witches. Soon, they stood before a majestic, pristine white building, towering over all the others. Gringotts Bank seemed to be carved from rock, and its massive bronze doors, guarded by goblins, inspired awe and respect. An inscription adorned the door:
"Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there."
Viktor Number 2 read the inscription and immediately played dead, fainting mid-air. "Oh my god! What poetry! And what a message! Are they going to kill us here for every wrong step? We don't know their laws! This is a trap!"
Viktor ignored his hysteria, focusing on the goblin standing by the door. Tall, with a hooked nose and sharp eyes, he regarded them with an arrogant gaze. McGonagall politely nodded to him, and the goblin, reluctantly returning the gesture, opened the door for them.
Inside, the bank was no less impressive. Marble floors, tall columns, hundreds of goblins scurrying around the vast hall, weighing coins, counting ingots, signing documents. The noise was incredible, yet orderly.
"Follow me, Mr. Moss," McGonagall said, leading him to one of the countless counters.
They approached a goblin seated behind a high counter. His eyes were sharp, and his movements precise and calculating.
"Professor McGonagall," the goblin croaked, his voice raspy. "How may I help you?"
"Good day, Griphook. We'd like to access Viktor Moss's vault," McGonagall said. "He's a first-year at Hogwarts."
The goblin Griphook stared at Viktor, his eyes narrowing. Viktor met his gaze, not a single muscle in his face twitching.
"The new account paper and your authorization," Griphook said, extending a clawed hand.
McGonagall handed him the documents; the goblin examined them meticulously, his gaze sweeping over the lines, his long finger tracing the seals.
"Mr. Moss," Griphook finally said, handing the documents back to Viktor. "Please follow us. And take this key." He handed Viktor a small, ornate golden key.
Viktor took it, feeling the cold metal in his palm. Then they descended a long, winding corridor, where a small cart on rails awaited them. "We're taking a cart, aren't we?" he couldn't help but say, looking at Griphook with a slight smile. "I hope it's fast."
The goblin merely snorted, his hooked nose twitching. McGonagall shot Viktor a disapproving look, but he just shrugged. Griphook sat in front, McGonagall behind him, and Viktor brought up the rear. The doors clanged shut.
"Hold on tight," Griphook warned, and the cart shot forward.
The ride was dizzying. The cart flew through dark, winding tunnels, sometimes turning sharply, sometimes plummeting into chasms, and sometimes soaring upwards. The wind whistled in their ears, and Viktor Number 2 shrieked loudly, clutching his imaginary seatbelt.
"Aaaaaah! This is crazy! My stomach is still up there, on the surface! We're going to crash! Is this a test of endurance before admission? I didn't sign up for this!"
Despite the sharp jolts, Viktor felt a rush of adrenaline. It was exhilarating. For the first time in a long while, he felt something other than routine and detachment. He even chuckled slightly.
Finally, the cart stopped before a massive vault door. Griphook inserted the key into the lock, and the door hissed open, revealing a small but overflowing room to Viktor's gaze. The walls were stone, and on the shelves, in neat stacks, lay mountains of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts. The glint of gold illuminated the room with a warm, inviting light.
Viktor Number 2 whistled. "Whoa! Now that's compensation! That's enough for several lifetimes of ramen and manga! We're living kings now!"
Viktor walked over to one of the stacks of Galleons and took a few coins. They were heavy, pleasantly cold, and smelled subtly old and magical. He counted out several hundred Galleons and put them in the pouch Griphook had provided.
"Thank you," he said to the goblin.
The return journey was just as swift, and soon they were back in the bank's main hall.
"Now," McGonagall said as they exited Gringotts, "we need to buy your textbooks."
They headed towards "Flourish and Blotts." The sign above the door was old-fashioned, and inside, the shop had the usual disarray of a bookstore. Tall shelves reached the ceiling, crammed with books, old and new, bound in leather, cloth, and even something that looked like dragon hide. It smelled of dust, old parchment, and printer's ink.
"My God, so many books!" Viktor Number 2 sniffed. "And not a single one with a half-naked girl on the cover! What kind of discrimination is that?"
Viktor simply nodded. He took the list McGonagall had given him earlier and began methodically collecting the textbooks. The Standard Book of Spells, A History of Magic, Magical Numbers and Numerology… All of it was familiar from his past life. He enjoyed flipping through the pages, inhaling the scent of freshly printed paper. Some books whispered quietly, others hummed faintly, and one, The Monster Book of Monsters, which was behind bars, growled threateningly.
"Oh, there it is! The biting book! We have to buy it!" Viktor Number 2 jumped excitedly, but Viktor merely gave him a stern look.
McGonagall, seeing his interest, softened slightly. "You seem to be well-versed in the subjects, Mr. Moss."
"I... it's just curiosity," Viktor replied evasively.
Having gathered all the textbooks, they headed to "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions." It was a bright and spacious shop, with robes of all sizes and colors hanging everywhere. Madam Malkin, a short, plump woman with pins in her teeth, greeted them with a smile.
"Hogwarts uniform, I presume?" she asked, unfolding a black robe.
Viktor, standing on a small stool, allowed Madam Malkin to take his measurements. She moved quickly and skillfully, the robes seemingly tailoring themselves to his figure.
"I'm going to look like a monk!" Viktor Number 2 grumbled, looking at his reflection in the mirror, where a robe had also appeared on him. "Can't we get something more... stylish? Something with a hood, maybe spikes?"
While Madam Malkin was hemming the robes, several more children entered the shop with their parents. Among them, Viktor recognized familiar faces. A tall blonde boy with an arrogant face – Draco Malfoy, and next to him two massive, foolish-looking boys – Crabbe and Goyle. A little further away, with red hair and a freckled face, Ron Weasley looked around nervously.
Viktor Number 2 immediately perked up. "Oh, look! Malfoy! And there's Weasley! It's just like in the movies! I wonder if Hermione will show up? And Harry Potter?"
Viktor inwardly snorted. He knew he would inevitably meet them soon.
Draco Malfoy, noticing Viktor, sneered arrogantly. "Another first-year? Aren't you ashamed, Madam Malkin, serving such... commoners?" His gaze slid over Viktor's simple Muggle clothes.
Madam Malkin, ignoring his arrogance, simply smiled. "All students are the same to me, Mr. Malfoy."
Viktor Number 2 immediately jumped up to Draco. "Whoa, this guy's arrogant! I'd punch him! Or challenge him to a duel! Viktor, come on, show him who's boss!"
Viktor merely narrowed his eyes slightly. He wasn't going to start conflicts on his first day. He just looked at Draco, showing neither aggression nor fear, only a certain indifference that seemed to discomfort Malfoy more than any insults.
The last destination was "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." Viktor knew this would be a crucial moment. The last time he had held a "wand," it was just a piece of wood he'd found as a child. Now, he would meet a real magic wand.
Ollivander's shop was dark and dusty, filled with thousands of narrow boxes stacked to the ceiling. The scent of old wood and dust filled the air. Mr. Ollivander, an old man with a pale face and large, dim eyes, looked like someone who had seen thousands of destinies before they began.
"Ah, Minerva," Ollivander whispered, his eyes gleaming when he saw Viktor. "I didn't expect to see you with such an… unusual client. He has… a very strong aura. And very unusual." His gaze was piercing, as if he saw not just a boy, but an entire history.
Viktor Number 2 shrank into an invisible corner. "He knows! He knows everything! He sees right through us! Run, Viktor, run!"
Viktor just smiled. He wasn't bothered that Ollivander felt something. And he wasn't going to hide his abilities.
"Moss, Viktor Moss," Ollivander said, squinting thoughtfully. "Yes, yes… a very rare case. Extraordinary power. I sense… immense potential."
He began pulling out wands, one after another. Viktor took them in his hands, feeling only wood. Nothing. Ollivander gave him wands of different woods, with different cores, explaining each one. "Ten inches, elm, phoenix feather core… no, not that. Thirteen inches, oak, unicorn hair… no again. Nine inches, yew, dragon heartstring…"
Viktor Number 2 began to get nervous. "What is this nonsense? Why isn't anything working? Maybe we're not wizards? Maybe this is all a joke? Have we been tricked?"
Finally, Ollivander pulled out another wand. It was unusually simple, dark brown wood, but when Viktor took it in his hands, he felt… something. It was like a slight electric shock, a warmth spreading through his hand. The wand vibrated. A golden glow erupted around him. The room filled with a soft, warm light, and thousands of dust motes swirled in the air like tiny stars.
Ollivander, his eyes shining, looked excited. "Ah, yes! Indeed!" he whispered. "Fourteen and a half inches, mahogany wood, phoenix feather core. A very rare combination. Phoenix… a very strong and loyal core. But mahogany… it chooses those who see the world differently, who are capable of great deeds and great sacrifices. A unique wand for a unique person. It has chosen you, Mr. Moss. Without a doubt."
Viktor Number 2 fell silent. He just stared at the wand in Viktor's hand, at the golden glow, at Ollivander's delighted face. "He… he's a real wizard," he whispered, and there was something akin to awe in his voice.
Viktor held the wand, feeling its weight, its power. He felt a connection to it, as if it were an extension of himself. It wasn't just wood; it was an instrument that would open new horizons for him. He knew that with this wand, he could do more. He could create.
McGonagall, who had been watching with a restrained smile, approached them. "Congratulations, Mr. Moss. You are now fully ready for Hogwarts."
When they emerged from Diagon Alley, the sun was already setting, painting the sky in orange and pink hues. The bags with textbooks and rolled-up robes felt unusually heavy, but Viktor felt a lightness he hadn't experienced in years. He was free; he had a home, money, and most importantly, a wand that confirmed his wizarding nature.
"So, our path leads to your new home," McGonagall said, pulling a small piece of parchment with an address from her bag.
They moved through the streets of London, now in a different direction. The city noise seemed softer, and the lights brighter. Viktor anticipated the tranquility of his own dwelling, where he could study his new books undisturbed, practice magic, and simply be himself, without constant supervision.
Soon, they found themselves on a quiet, green street. A small, two-story house with red brickwork and a neat garden stood at the very end. It looked cozy and inviting, completely unlike the gloomy walls of the psychiatric hospital.
"Here we are, Mr. Moss," McGonagall said, pointing to the house. "Your new home. The keys and documents are with you."
Viktor nodded. "Thank you, Professor."
They entered the house. Inside, it was clean but empty and a little dusty, as if no one had lived there for a long time. A few untouched cardboard boxes with his belongings from the hospital stood against the wall in the living room.
Viktor placed his bag of purchases from Diagon Alley on the floor. Then he raised his hand. With a slight, barely audible rustle, the boxes with his belongings unpacked themselves. Clothes and books neatly folded into the nearest wardrobe, and a few personal items carefully arranged themselves on the bedside table in the upstairs bedroom. All of this happened without a single word or the use of a wand.
McGonagall froze, her eyes wide with surprise. She watched as Viktor's belongings silently moved around the house, settling into their places. "S... since when could you do that, Mr. Moss?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine astonishment. Such a level of wandless and non-verbal magic was incredible even for experienced wizards, and for an eleven-year-old child, simply unheard of.
Viktor lowered his hand and turned to her. "It started two years ago, Professor," he replied calmly. "In the hospital, I thought it was just… unusual abilities. Or that it was part of my 'madness.' But now I understand that it's magic. My magic."
McGonagall's face suddenly lit up with understanding. She immediately realized why he had so easily believed the letter from Hogwarts, why he hadn't doubted magic. He himself was living proof of its existence. He had lived with this power, not understanding its nature.
"Now I understand," McGonagall said quietly, her voice softening. "Mr. Moss… I… I am so sorry. The Ministry… they didn't know they were dealing with such a rare, such a… natural wizard."
"It's all right, Professor," Viktor smiled slightly. "I'm here now. And I'm ready to learn."
McGonagall looked at him, at his calm face, at the house that now looked lived-in. She understood that this boy, despite everything he had been through, possessed incredible resilience and astonishing talent.
"Well then, Mr. Moss," she said, clearing her throat slightly to regain her usual strictness, though respect still shone in her eyes. "I think you'll manage now. I'll leave you to settle in. We'll see each other at Hogwarts, on September first."
With those words, she turned towards the door.
"Goodbye, Professor," Viktor replied.
McGonagall nodded, opened the door, and with a soft pop, disappeared into the street.
Viktor was left alone. He looked at his house, at his unpacked belongings, at the wand lying on the table. He walked into his new bedroom, to the window, and looked at the sky, where the first stars were beginning to appear.
"Well, Viktor Number 2," he whispered, his voice full of anticipation. "It's time to start a new life."
Viktor Number 2, looking absolutely delighted now, appeared beside him. "Yes, a new life! But let's agree, no more hairdressers!"
Viktor laughed. Soon, he would begin his new life. A wizard's life.