“Paying with muggle money, huh?
Well, even though exchanging it later is a bit of a hassle, it should be fine.
The rulebook doesn’t strictly forbid using pounds,” Stan said in a breezy tone, eyeing the banknotes in Shiro’s hand.
“Er…
let me calculate how many pounds eight Sickles would be…
damn this arithmetic!
You should know that what I hate most is this bloody mathematical conversion.”
Currency conversion in the wizarding world was notoriously infuriating.
Usually, one Golden Galleon equaled seventeen Silver Sickles, or 493 Bronze Knuts.
If converted to British muggle currency, a single Galleon required roughly five pounds.
Shiro didn’t possess a huge sum of pounds, and exchanging all of it would net him fewer than thirty Galleons.
However, now that he had obtained the strength of his parallel selves from other worlds, making money would no longer be as arduous as it used to be.
“No need to calculate.
It’s roughly 2.35 pounds.
Here is two pounds and fifty pence.
Consider the change a tip for your hard work.”
Seeing Stan counting on his fingers with great difficulty–looking as though he might take off his shoes to include his toes next–9]Shiro immediately thrust the pre-calculated amount into his hands, rescuing the conductor from a sea of mathematics.
“Sometimes I really envy young wizards who grow up with muggles.
You lot are always much better at certain things than those of us who’ve lived in the wizarding world our whole lives,” Stan muttered, leading Shiro into the bus.
Unlike a normal bus, the interior of the Knight Bus had no seats whatsoever.
Instead, it was filled with brass-framed beds, leaving only a narrow aisle wide enough for a single person to walk through.
At the moment, every single bed was empty.
It was hard to tell whether business was just slow tonight or if the other passengers had gone up to the top two floors to rest.
“Just pick any bed you like and rest.
We don’t have any other guests down here right now anyway.”
Stan then pointed toward the bespectacled old driver at the front.
“And this is our driver, Ernie Prang.
Although his driving skills are honestly nothing to write home about, you can’t deny that his speed is absolutely unquestionable.”
Ernie turned around to glare at Stan in disapproval, then looked at Shiro, nodding with a genial smile like a perfectly ordinary elderly man.
“Next stop, the Leaky Cauldron!” Ernie barked.
With that high shout, Ernie slammed the accelerator, accelerating to maximum speed right from the start.
A tremendous inertia hit Shiro, forcing even someone of his enhanced physical capabilities to grab a nearby bedpost to stabilize himself.
Shiro turned his head to look out the window.
The scenery outside blurred past in rapid flashes.
Without casting a dynamic vision-enhancing charm on oneself, even a wizard would find it difficult to perceive the external world clearly at this velocity.
Shiro, however, could vividly track the bus as it zigged and zagged down the streets.
It felt as though it could crash into the structures lining the road at any second.
Yet, whenever the bus encountered pedestrians, lampposts, or any other obstacles, the objects would actively move aside to make way, snapping back to their original positions the instant the vehicle sped past.
*How fascinating.
Is this spatial magic at work?* Shiro thought.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, the walls on both sides of the bus rapidly compressed toward the center, flattening Shiro along with the vehicle into a stick-figure-like state.
The elongated bus slipped directly through the narrow gap between two oncoming cars, snapping back to its original shape an instant later.
Within just two or three minutes, the bus ground to a halt.
“The Leaky Cauldron, we’re here,” Ernie announced, pulling a sandwich out from a basket in front of the steering wheel and taking a massive bite to make the most of this brief rest.
Shiro stepped off the bus feeling slightly light-headed.
Stan, standing right by the door, immediately said, “We hope the Knight Bus has been of service to you.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the vehicle and the conductor vanished simultaneously from Shiro’s perception.
“Even my body experiences slight discomfort from that spatial distortion.
I wonder how normal wizards with ordinary physical constitutions manage to bear staying inside that bus for extended trips.”
Shiro shook his head.
Once the dizziness subsided, he shifted his gaze toward his destination: The Leaky Cauldron.
He was deeply intrigued by the spatial manipulation demonstrated by the Knight Bus.
However, as an uninitiated wizard who didn’t know a single spell yet, trying to study advanced spatial magic right away was nothing short of a pipedream.
It would be like trying to build a manned spacecraft before even mastering first-grade primary school math.
The Leaky Cauldron didn’t resemble a modern bar at all; it looked more like a centuries-old tavern frequented by outlaws.
It was dark, cramped, and shabby, with a crooked wooden sign hanging over the door that read “The Leaky Cauldron” in English script.
Sandwiched right between a large bookshop and a record store, the pub failed to catch the attention of a single muggle walking by.
Just like the Knight Bus, this pub was protected by a similar muggle-repelling charm.
Without wizarding blood, muggles could neither perceive nor approach the establishment.
While a muggle might occasionally wander in by mistake, the Ministry of Magic would swiftly step in to wipe any memory pertaining to the pub.
Before Harry Potter entered Hogwarts, the Ministry maintained an exceptionally tight grip on the Statute of Secrecy.
*Ding-ling.*
Shiro pushed open the door.
At this hour of the night, the Leaky Cauldron was quiet compared to its daytime bustle.
Only a scattered few individuals sat in the cramped pub, drinking silently.
As Shiro walked in, several startled glances landed on him.
It was clear they hadn’t expected a young wizard to show up at the Leaky Cauldron in the dead of night.
Unlike family-friendly pubs like the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, the Leaky Cauldron hosted a mixed crowd, and dark wizards weren’t a rare sight here.
A wizard sitting in a corner, his head completely hidden beneath a heavy hood, eyed Shiro using his peripheral vision.
A strange, sinister green light flashed intermittently across his pupils.
*I sense a disgusting gaze.
Someone in here actually wants to make a move on me.*
Shiro scanned the entire pub, attempting to pinpoint the wizard harboring malice toward him.
He rested his right hand near his waist, ready to summon his Zanpakutō to battle at a moment’s notice.
With his current strength, he had no reason to fear any wizard in a head-on confrontation, save for the first Dark Lord, Gellert Grindelwald, and the Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore.
Wizards in the world of Harry Potter suffered from a massive disadvantage when casting magic: they needed a wand and had to vocalize corresponding incantations.
Their skill activation speed was agonizingly slow.
By utilizing the speed of *Shunpo*, Shiro could easily cut down a wizard of this world before they could finish uttering a spell.
“My dear child, coming to the Leaky Cauldron at this hour…
did you have a fight with your family?
Is there anything I can do for you?”
Just as Shiro braced himself for combat, an elderly wizard with a balding head that resembled a wrinkled walnut suddenly materialized behind the counter.
*Consider yourself lucky to keep your life for now,* Shiro thought.
The hooded wizard lowered his eyes, slowly slipping the wand he had been on the verge of drawing back into the folds of his robes.