Chapter 423: On the Road

"Only twenty‑seven, Mr. Ollivander, take your money." Bai Lang immediately produced a gold Galleon, gave Ollivander the required money, then with a flick of his finger the wand produced a stick, "This thing feels pretty handy!" Yet Professor Sprout had already covered her face.

It was a sturdy oak rod four feet long, one end slightly thicker with a brass‑made hexagonal head that an adult could grip comfortably, and of course it could smash a skull open if struck on a head… The opposite, slightly thinner end was fitted with a steel base about an inch long, its interlocking teeth enough to bite firmly into a slick floor.

This wand was not light; it wasn't the kind of one‑foot‑plus wand as thin as chopsticks, nor was it that delicate—swinging it required considerable wrist strength. Professor Sprout seemed about to say something, but when she saw Bai Lang deftly flick a few fingers and turn the stick reaching his own chin into a stick, she abandoned all words.

To the witch, Bai Lang's strength seemed great; even without a reducing bag, he could snatch the coins with one hand and toss them onto his back, proving that the kid's power was not far behind that of a werewolf or a giant—though, of course, comparable in age and size.

After fetching his clothes, the professor saw Bai Lang home and took her leave, "Don't forget, this is your ticket—Platform 9¾—don't be late. Farewell, Mr. Lang." It seemed the professor still habitually called him by name. After parting, Bai Lang showed little enthusiasm for anything else—most of the books struck him as typical waste of space, feeling more like hand‑copied manuscripts than modern printed volumes. The paper was plant‑based vellum rather than true parchment, yet after processing it felt quite pleasant to the touch.

Quill pens seemed too antiquated to Bai Lang; he would certainly bring a fountain pen, and he also had the option of a faux‑quill fitted with a gold nib and ink reservoir—a product you could buy at a London department store.

The only two things that truly satisfied him were his wand and his uniform; the former felt handy and could even use a Baton spell to smash some people's dog heads, while the latter, practically equipped with an automatic ironing function, made Bai Lang feel utterly at ease—British gentlemen generally never iron their own shirts.

Bai Lang gathered a few large suitcases and stuffed them with spare clothes and books—at that moment he nostalgically recalled that movie about magical creatures with a suitcase that could hold an entire zoo, though he realized such a thing would be insanely expensive… Besides, he had plenty of time to take it slow—he glanced at Yu Yu, and the dead‑fish condition indicated he would be stuck here for at least seven or eight years.

The owl cage was more troublesome, since Bai Lang bought an eagle‑owl—the largest owl species, and of course it already had a scientific name, but lazy Bai Lang gave it a name himself: "Promise me, Bubo, that when I let you go you won't run wild. In front of ordinary people you'll probably have to stay in the cage." The cage was enormous, over 1.4 meters tall and about a meter in diameter…

Owls are supposed to be clever; after much deliberation and feeding Bubo a heap of owl food and a dozen mice, Bai Lang smashed the cage and said to Bubo, "Bubo, you're an adult owl now—well, a young owl—you should be able to find your own way. How about this: I'll go to Hogwarts, you wait for me at Hogwarts, okay? Don't betray my trust, Bubo." Then he released his eagle‑owl.

The eagle‑owl flew off without looking back, but Bai Lang thought that if the bastard really never returned, he'd only lose a dozen or so Galleons.

At ten a. m. on September 1, on the outskirts of King's Cross Station, Bai Lang pushed a luggage cart and began looking for the broken platform; along the way his keen senses picked up several young wizards and their families—one had to admit the wizards were rather careless, many dressed in odd garb, and if you listened closely their conversations were riddled with contradictions. Yet none of this was noticed by the ordinary people passing by.

By half past ten, Bai Lang had wandered through most of King's Cross, and using his ticket he entered the platform to look for the numbered platform. Thanks to the memory of one of the best scenes from that ragged movie, he found the spot, only to discover a crowd of young wizards and their parents already waiting.

They queued in small groups, bumped past each other and vanished, while the ordinary people walking by saw nothing, which further reinforced Bai Lang's ongoing hypothesis: "Perhaps wizards inherently carry a magic that dulls ordinary people's attention; ordinary oddities go unnoticed, or if noticed are automatically accepted as normal or forgotten… And those truly unforgettable events or magical artifacts require wizards to use a Forgetting Charm to clean up."

He obediently lined up at the end, as if even a lone young wizard like him had a place, and Bai Lang was at least inconspicuous now—his wand tucked in his suitcase looked just like a simple pry bar, and no one would think it was a wand. Bai Lang also thought the wand's oddity was probably the result of some Ollivander having had too much to drink.

When it was Bai Lang's turn, he shoved his luggage cart forward, then sprinted through a warm, dim short tunnel and emerged into a station that looked like one from the early twentieth‑century British Empire, a red steam locomotive looming before him, with many young wizards and parents strolling about and some uniformed staff rushing around.

Bai Lang checked in his large luggage but only brought a suitcase containing his clothes and uniform onto the carriage. Perhaps because he arrived early—wizards seemed to prefer boarding at the last moment? In any case, Bai Lang found the carriage fairly empty, casually chose a rear compartment, stowed his suitcase, sat by the window and began looking outside, of course twirling his wand in his hand—a wand that could easily crack a human skull.

Time passed slowly, and the platform grew more crowded, but Bai Lang paid little attention; he didn't know why no young wizard entered his compartment until a round‑faced, somewhat chubby young wizard finally came in. Bai Lang looked at him and said, "Hey, hello, I'm Bai Lang. In your terms it's Lang. Bai, a new student at Hogwarts. And you?"

The kid stammered a bit, "Na—Neville Longbottom. Y‑you hello. May I sit here?" Bai Lang smiled, "No problem, a compartment seats four. Please, sit."