Chapter 2 : Gringotts

The grand marble entrance of Gringotts greeted Edward Evans and Professor McGonagall as they approached the imposing wizarding bank. The polished bronze doors seemed to guard the mysteries hidden within the vaults below. Professor McGonagall led the way, her brisk steps echoing in the vast marble hall.

"Mr. Evans, it's time to open your Gringotts account," she announced, her voice carrying a blend of authority and warmth. "This will be where you store your Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, the wizarding currency."

Edward followed her into the bank, the cool air contrasting with the warmth of Diagon Alley outside. The interior of Gringotts was a spectacle of towering marble pillars and glistening chandeliers, with goblins bustling about their banking duties.

Approaching the counter, Professor McGonagall spoke to the stern-looking goblin behind it. "We need to open an account for Mr. Evans."

The goblin scrutinized Edward with sharp, calculating eyes before nodding in acknowledgment. A few scrolls were brought forth, and a quill hovered nearby, ready to transcribe the necessary information.

"Your full name, please," the goblin demanded.

"Edward Alexander Evans," Edward replied, reciting the name he found on his acceptance letter.

The goblin began the process, scrolls and quills appearing as if by magic. As the transaction unfolded, Professor McGonagall, ever vigilant, seized an opportunity to delve into a matter that had been on her mind. "While we're here, I'd like to inquire about any magical relatives Mr. Evans might have. Is there a way to check?"

The goblin, with a skeptical glance, nodded reluctantly. "Very well, but these tests are not always conclusive."

Edward watched as the goblin retrieved an ancient-looking tome from a locked compartment. The pages appeared blank, but as the goblin touched the quill to the parchment, an ethereal script began to materialize.

To everyone's surprise, the script wavered and flickered, displaying a strange luminescence. The goblin's brow furrowed, and a murmur of uncertainty escaped its lips.

"This is unusual," the goblin muttered, casting a perplexed glance at the script. "The magic here is... wavering, as if resisting the connection."

Professor McGonagall leaned in, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "What does that mean?"

The goblin hesitated, a rare uncertainty in its voice. "It means, Deputy Headmistress, that the magical connections for Mr. Evans are unclear. The family registry is unable to provide a definitive answer. There may be something unusual in his magical heritage."

Edward's eyes widened, a mixture of confusion and intrigue filling him. The goblin continued to scrutinize the script, its expression a blend of skepticism and doubt.

"I cannot say with certainty whether there are magical relatives or not," the goblin finally admitted, its usual air of authority wavering.

Professor McGonagall exchanged a glance with Edward, a subtle tension hanging in the air. The uncertainty surrounding his magical heritage only added to the mysteries that seemed to surround him.

With the bank account now established, they left Gringotts, the enchantment of Diagon Alley unfolding before them once more.

XXXXX

The door to Flourish and Blotts swung open, ushering Edward Evans into the enchanting haven of magical books. Professor McGonagall accompanied him, a guide through this labyrinth of knowledge. The air hummed with the scent of aged parchment and the crackling energy of spell-bound volumes.

The sight of shelves teetering under the weight of centuries-old tomes and the murmurs of enchanted texts captivated Edward. It was a symphony of whispers and rustling pages, beckoning him to explore the magical realm of literature. Professor McGonagall, ever composed, steered him toward the required textbooks for his first year at Hogwarts.

"These are the essential ones," she explained, her finger tracing the titles. "You'll be spending quite a bit of time with these."

Edward nodded, fingers trailing over the spines. His mind, however, was divided between the intriguing titles and the practical consideration of cost. The robe purchase at Madam Malkin's still echoed in his mind, a reminder of the need for financial prudence.

As he began to gather the required books, Professor McGonagall observed his choices with a discerning eye. The edges of some volumes showed signs of wear, evidence of his decision to opt for the more affordable editions.

"You're choosing the lower-priced editions," she remarked, a faint furrow in her brow.

Edward met her gaze, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Yes, Professor. Trying to save money where I can."

A moment of silent understanding passed between them. Edward's practicality, born from a life that had taught him the value of each Galleon, was not lost on Professor McGonagall. It was a sentiment she respected, an unspoken acknowledgment of the financial responsibilities some students carried.

Their next destination was the Hogwarts library, a vast expanse of towering shelves and whispered enchantments. Edward, wide-eyed and eager, wandered through the aisles, the possibilities of knowledge stretching before him like a magical tapestry.

Professor McGonagall, with a list of supplementary books, approached him. She explained their relevance to a well-rounded magical education, and Edward, appreciative of her guidance, added them to his growing stack. Each volume seemed to hold its own promise, a key to unlocking the mysteries of the magical world.

At the counter, Edward laid out his chosen books, a mixture of required texts and recommended readings. The clerk, with a friendly smile, tallied up the cost, and Edward felt a twinge of apprehension. He knew the limitations of his budget, but Professor McGonagall's presence by his side offered silent encouragement.

"You're doing well, Mr. Evans," she assured him, a subtle nod reinforcing her words. "Investing in knowledge is never a wasted expense."

Edward took a deep breath, conscious of the Galleons slipping away. The total at the counter seemed daunting, and for a moment, he hesitated. But a glance from Professor McGonagall, supportive and understanding, urged him forward.

Two additional books caught his eye—an advanced guide to alchemy and a comprehensive study on transfiguration, both recommended by Professor McGonagall. Their spines held the promise of deeper insights and a broader understanding of magical arts.

As the transaction concluded, Edward felt a swirl of emotions. Gratitude for Professor McGonagall's guidance, determination to make the most of this investment, and a twinge of uncertainty about his finances. He turned to her with sincerity.

"Thank you, Professor," he expressed, his voice carrying genuine appreciation. "I wouldn't have known where to start without your help."

A genuine smile graced Professor McGonagall's usually composed features. "It's my pleasure to guide a student with such promising potential. Now, Mr. Evans, your journey at Hogwarts has officially begun. Make the most of it."

Edward nodded, a profound sense of gratitude settling within him. As they left Flourish and Blotts, the weight of the books in his arms felt both substantial and symbolic—a tangible representation of the knowledge and adventures that lay ahead.

XXXXX

The sun dipped below the horizon as Edward Evans and Professor McGonagall made their way back to Rosewood Orphanage. The vibrant hues of Diagon Alley gradually faded into the shadows, replaced by the subtle glow of street lamps. The stack of books in Edward's arms felt weighty, their presence a reminder of the magical world he was about to step into.

As they reached the entrance of the orphanage, Professor McGonagall turned to Edward with a thoughtful expression. "Mr. Evans, there's something important I need to share with you. The Trace, a magical charm that monitors underage wizards, is activated after the Sorting Ceremony at Hogwarts. Until then, you are technically free to use magic. However, exercise caution, and only do so when necessary."

Edward's eyes widened at the revelation. The idea that he could use magic, even if limited, outside of Hogwarts was both intriguing and empowering. He absorbed the information, his mind already racing with the possibilities.

"Thank you, Professor," he expressed sincerely, a newfound understanding dawning in his gaze.

Professor McGonagall nodded, her eyes revealing a touch of assurance. "Remember, magic is a tool, and like any tool, it should be used responsibly. Now, I'll bid you goodnight. Hogwarts awaits you, Mr. Evans."

As she stepped away, leaving Edward standing at the entrance, he felt a surge of gratitude for the knowledge she had imparted. The weight of the books seemed to transform into a source of inspiration. With a glance around to ensure no one was watching, he raised his wandless hand and closed the door with a subtle, yet distinctly magical, motion.

A mysterious smile played on Edward's lips as he stood alone in the quiet entranceway of the orphanage. The magical world had revealed itself in glimpses and whispers, and now, armed with knowledge and the promise of Hogwarts, he felt a subtle shift within himself.

As he ascended the stairs to his room, the stack of books cradled in his arms, Edward couldn't help but feel a spark of anticipation. The enchanted world was calling to him, and with each step, the mundane seemed to blur into the magical. The mysteries of his magical journey were unfolding, and Rosewood Orphanage, though familiar, felt different under the veil of newfound knowledge.

Edward entered his room, the books settling onto his desk. The warm glow of magic lingered in the air. With a contemplative gaze, he whispered a quiet "Lumos," and the room was bathed in a soft, enchanting light. 

Edward's gaze lingered on the glowing wand. The enchantment in the air lingered, and a quiet resolve settled within him. The promise of magic, the allure of the unexplored, and the imminent arrival of his Hogwarts journey sparked a determination. With a sense of purpose, he murmured, "Nox," extinguishing the light.

The room fell into darkness, but Edward's mind was ablaze with possibilities. He couldn't help but think about the upcoming days, the Sorting Hat, the first lessons at Hogwarts. With a secretive smile, he made a silent promise to himself—to practice, to learn, and to wield his wand with increasing mastery. The subtle hum of magic seemed to echo his resolve, and as he closed his eyes, Edward imagined himself practicing every minute until the day Hogwarts would welcome him into its mystical embrace.