Chapter 421: Familiar Feeling

The owl remained perfectly still, showing no sign of delivering a letter; Bai Lang raised one eyebrow—on that point he was just like Rock Johnson. The owl tilted its head to size him up, then extended a claw that bore a small leather pouch, and the owl lowered its head to peck the pouch.

"If you don't pay, you won't go?" Bai Lang even slipped into a Northeastern dialect; he fished out a fifty‑penny coin and placed it into the leather pouch on the owl's foot. Only then did the owl spread its wings and fly off, taking the letter he had written—Bai Lang had now mastered a fine round script and Gothic script, and he hadn't expected that cultivating martial arts could have such a benefit: his handwriting was far better than before, turning from a claw‑like scrawl into a graceful small regular script, now leaning toward the Liu style, which gave him a certain pride.

After sending the letter, Bai Lang also tried to get some money; he told his lawyer Mr. Anderson that he had been accepted by Hogwarts and needed funds to buy books and school supplies—say, a thousand pounds? Mr. Anderson replied that he had never heard of any Hogwarts academy......

But soon after, she showed up with a stack of one‑thousand‑pound notes; Bai Lang saw her eyes glaze over as if she'd fallen for a trick… "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to, and it's better for everyone that way." The speaker was a suddenly appearing short, stout woman wearing a patched, dirt‑stained cloak and a similarly patched pointed hat, her hair a wild tangle, yet she embodied the very meaning of "big‑hearted and broad‑bodied."

The witch wore a warm smile on her face, "Hello, Mr. Bai. I am Bo Mo Na Si Pu Lao Te, and I'm here to take you to purchase what you need."

Bai Lang quickly bowed, "Greetings, Professor Sprout." In fact she should be called professor, but Bai Lang could no longer recall the Harry Potter plot clearly and had completely forgotten that she was actually the head of Hufflepuff. "How do we get to… that place called Diagon Alley?" he asked.

Professor Sprout smiled, "We'll take the trolley, sir." The British form of address made Bai Lang feel uneasy; he wasn't used to elders calling him sir, though it was proper etiquette. "But first, I need to deal with Mr. Anderson's issue." Professor Sprout produced her wand and tapped Anderson's head.

Anderson turned and left, "Oh, he won't remember any of this, but he'll retain a normal memory—that you enrolled in a school. As for which one? He'll give himself a reasonable explanation. As for contact? No worries, we have a 'department' that handles this."

The shabby tavern was right there, yet the passersby seemed oblivious, and when Professor Sprout led Bai Lang inside, his first sight was the odd characters inside. An old woman, gaunt and shriveled, wearing a pointed hat and filthy clothes, embodied the very notion of "old witch." The proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron was an elderly man who, upon seeing the professor, immediately bowed. "Hello, Tom," Professor Sprout nodded, then led Bai Lang through the dirty, rundown tavern, pushed open the back door into the courtyard, and above a trash can said, "Count three bricks up from the bin, then count two across; tap the wand on the top three times…."

The professor muttered incantations, and after the wand tapped three times, Bai Lang watched the brick wall in front fold away, revealing a bustling street behind—just like in the movies. Honestly, Bai Lang's memory of the films was vague; he had no recollection of the Leaky Cauldron's appearance, his impression of Hogwarts was strong, but the most vivid were the oddly‑shaped actors…

Before him was the magical world… In an instant, Bai Lang even forgot the bizarre clothing of the passersby, his attention fixed on the strange architecture and odd objects. "Whether in the movies or in the reality I'm seeing now, it seems to prove the error of the assumption that Britain's wizarding community numbers only a few thousand or ten thousand people."

Whether it's the shops or the crowds, just by the goods on sale this society must number at least tens of thousands—a full community. In fact, the departments and families mentioned in the books already show that, with mud‑born wizards now joining, Britain's wizarding world cannot be limited to only a few thousand.

Bai Lang followed Professor Sprout, constantly looking left and right at the overwhelming sights, so strange that he had never seen anything like them in any world. "First we need to exchange some Galleons—oh, that's wizard‑world currency; your pounds can't be used here directly." The short, stout witch led Bai Lang to a crooked yet towering building—obviously a bank. "Gringotts, let's exchange money first."

Goblins stood at the entrance, which the professor called "fairies," but Bai Lang, with years of gaming experience, recognized them as goblins—just a bit taller than usual. Beneath the bronze door stood a goblin guard in a red, gold‑trimmed uniform, who silently bowed. The professor led Bai Lang across the bronze gate, and a few steps later they reached a silver second door.

A long warning was etched on the door, but Bai Lang was too lazy to read it—just a notice not to rob the bank, what else could it be? Passing the second door, they entered a massive marble hall. "You can't tell from outside? It's that big inside?" Bai Lang glanced behind him then at the hall. "Oh, that's an Expansion Spell," the professor remarked.

Bai Lang saw hundreds of goblins, all dressed in a respectable—if somewhat ridiculous—manner with single lenses, many scribbling calculations, others inspecting piles of fiery gems. He felt no urge to rob them, only curiosity. A sign read "Exchange Counter," and an ageless goblin sat behind it; Bai Lang, without much comment, placed his one‑thousand‑pound notes on the counter. The goblin skillfully tapped them, then pulled a bag from under the table and dumped it in front of him with a swish.

"One hundred ninety‑seven Galleons and seven Knuts," the old goblin said, gesturing for Bai Lang to take the money quickly. "Whoa! That's a huge sack of cash—how am I supposed to carry it?" Bai Lang, seeing the golden glint and the clatter from the bag's mouth, knew it was all coins, all gold, and the weight was considerable.

Without waiting for the professor, Bai Lang snatched the bag, "Is this a bonus item?" The goblin nodded, and Bai Lang slung the leather sack over his shoulder and left. The professor clucked like an old hen, waved her wand at the bag, and it instantly shrank, making it much lighter for Bai Lang.

"It's time‑limited, so we should buy what we need before it expires."