"Lotsa stuff was muggles! Gets some folks right mad, that."

He nods. That makes sense. Uncle Vernon would probably throw out all the clocks in the house if he found out they were invented by wizards.

They continue walking through the little town, and passersby stare a lot at Hagrid as they do, both due to the fact that he's twice as tall as anyone else and due to comments like those.

Hagrid doesn't seem to mind, so that's okay.

He doesn't! He's very cheerful about everything.

Soon they teach the station. There's a train to London in five minutes' time and Hagrid, who doesn't understand "Muggle money," gives the bills to Victor so he can buy their tickets.

Victor understands Muggle money well enough to accomplish this task! He is very polite to the ticket vendor.

People stare more than ever on the train. Hagrid takes up two seats and sits knitting what looks like a canary-yellow circus tent. 

Going places with Hagrid is an experience.

It's not bad, though.

"Have yeh seen yer list o' school materials?" he asks at some point.

"Yes. It was in the letter. I brought it along."

"Good, good. We'll be goin' to Gringotts, the bank, and gettin' yer money there ter buy everythin' at Diagon Alley."

Nod nod.

Eventually they arrive in London, and while Hagrid clearly has a destination in mind, he does not have an easy time getting there the ordinary way, what with ticket barriers and such.

Victor looks for opportunities to be helpful.

There will be several of those, and he will complain loudly about the Underground seats being too small and the trains too slow.

Victor can be a little bit helpful there too. He can be comforting at least.

Hagrid is so huge that he parts the crowd easily. They pass bookshops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looks as if it could sell you a magic wand. This is just an ordinary street full of ordinary people.

"This is it," he says eventually, however, coming to a halt in front of a tiny, grubby-looking pub. "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It's unremarkable to the point that the people hurrying by don't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they can't see the Leaky Cauldron at all.

That is not unremarkable at all.

Hagrid steers Victor inside. For a famous place, it's very dark and shabby. A few old women are sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them is smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat's talking to the old bartender, who's quite bald and looks like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stops when they walk in. Everyone seems to know Hagrid; they wave and smile at him, and the bartender reaches for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," says Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Victor's shoulder.

Victor tries to look unimportant. He's been appreciating how travelling with Hagrid makes people overlook him and he does not want that state of affairs to come to an end.

Too bad.

"Good Lord," says the bartender, peering at Victor, "is this—can this be—?" The Leaky Cauldron suddenly goes completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispers the old bartender, "Victor Evans... what an honor." He hurries out from behind the bar, rushes toward Victor and seizes his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Evans, welcome back."

He freezes.

What does he do, what does he do -

For lack of a better idea, he hesitantly shakes the man's hand. "Thank you," he says very quietly.

Everyone is looking at him. The old woman with the pipe's puffing on it without realizing it has gone out. Hagrid's beaming.

Then there's a great scraping of chairs and the next moment everyone in the Leaky Cauldron wants to shake hands with him.

Okay. He can do that.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Evans, can't believe I’m meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Evans, I’m just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand—I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Evans, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle," says a man... who once a long time ago bowed to Victor in a shop.