He gets on the bike, puts on his own helmet, accelerates—

—and the motorcycle starts slowly going up into the air.

Magic is awesome. "This is really cool."

He beams at her, and accelerates more. Soon they're high enough they could probably be confused with birds, but somehow it's not cold up there.

Magic is awesome. "So Hagrid, I teleported by accident once, is that something people can learn to do on purpose?"

"Aye, it's called Apparition. Yeh can learn that after yeh turn seventeen."

"That seems like a long time from now but ok. Can magical people talk to animals? I can only talk to snakes."

If they were on the road he might have crashed his motorcycle. "Yeh can what?"

"Talk to snakes. Is that ability uncommon?"

He's momentarily speechless. "Aye, that's... that's Dark Magic."

"Why is that? What makes magic dark?"

"It's... well, I dunno the theory, but... Dark wizards do that." Pause. "You-Know-Who could."

"That doesn't seem like a very principled reason."

He frowns. "Dunno what that means."

"I mean that things don't become bad because bad people do them. People are bad because they do bad things."

He shudders. "Jus' don't do it, okay?"

"Alright." She has no intention of following this arbitrary rule but Hagrid doesn't seem likely to be convinced and she needs to know more.

He nods, and continues driving.

Sarah distracts herself with looking out at the landscape. She's never flown before. It's fun.

It soon becomes obvious they're making their way to London.

Well that's interesting. Maybe whatever stopped people from noticing a flying motorcycle also stops people from noticing Diagon Alley?

Probably! They start making their way back down as they get closer to the city proper and no one seems to notice them landing.

Magic, it's pretty neat.

They haven't landed anywhere too crowded, though, and after Hagrid finds a place to park his motorcycle he starts looking for the underground station.

Sarah will also look around. She spots one first and points it out.

In they go—Hagrid complaining loudly about the size of pretty much everything—and then they're in the undeground car. Hagrid draws a newspaper from his coat—the Daily Prophet—and starts reading it.