Professor McGonagall felt like her head was about to explode. What was supposed to be an introduction to the magical world turned into a barrage of news that completely shocked her.

Although the most normal thing in her situation would be to distrust John's words, a part of her knew that much of what he said was true. That report, both in its writing style, its structuring, its arguments, its sources of information, and its length, was so well written that it was hard to believe that someone had created it just out of boredom.

Under John's indifferent gaze, he tucked said report away in his robe, planning to give it to Dumbledore when he returned to corroborate the suspicious points of their conversation.

"Well, moving on to other topics, in addition to giving you an induction class to the magical world, I have to take you to buy your school supplies, but I suppose the first part we can ignore, so if I may, may I put my hand on your shoulder? I'll use the apparition spell to move us to the place where we'll buy your school supplies."

"Okay."

John let Professor McGonagall put her hand on his shoulder, watching as she waved her wand, after which they appeared in front of an old-fashioned designer bar in very poor condition if you came to compare it to the businesses on either side of it. 

"Professor, leaving aside that bringing a child into a bar is in terrible taste, I have a feeling that if I open the door, there will appear before me an old west-style saloon with a short, jolly waiter, who attends to a group of bandits and ruffians who, upon seeing us, will direct their gazes towards us, planning how to mug us."

"I have to commend your overflowing imagination, Mr. Carter."

"If I had an overflowing imagination, I might have imagined that you brought me here for the purpose of selling me to a group of bandits."

"I think I'd better go in."

"Professor, one last thing, I don't understand the reason why we have to go into a bar to buy my school supplies, because of the list, I don't think a bar can sell me all this stuff."

"The Leaky Cauldron serves as the entrance to Diagon Alley, the place where we will buy all your school supplies."

"I understand; I for one have no difficulty accepting that, but I know that racism reigns in the magical world at a brutal level, wouldn't it be better for children from human families to gain access from somewhere else? That way, situations where a drunken racist wizard indiscriminately attacks a human being can be avoided."

"Situations like that have never..." she paused, "I'll take your idea into consideration, though also, you don't have to worry too much, every Hogwarts professor is a highly qualified wizard," she paused again, "save for a few exceptions."

After listening to her, John walked straight in, only to turn around and look at Professor McGonagall with a disappointed look on his face.

"A few days ago, I hired a guy named Mundungus Fletcher. His dirty, poor, scruffy, ugly and pitiful appearance made me realize that magic wasn't as wonderful as it was portrayed in books. Now that this bar has reinforced any prejudices I had, what can I expect from a magical world that doesn't have such simple incantations as cleaning or washing? Or, at the very least, the concept of hygiene."

At a nearby table, a guy who was eating choked nervously as he heard him.

"Kid! What are you trying to say!" said the bartender angrily, who came out from behind the bar holding a bucket of waste in his hand.

"Tom, take it easy, he's a freshman. Mr. Carter, excuse yourself."

John ignored Professor McGonagall's words.

"Mundungus, it's been a long time, remember me, I'm the guy who bought you an owl."

Mundungus felt like crying at the sound of John's voice, so he stood up and bowed awkwardly.

"As your excellency believes, it is impossible to forget your magnificence; from the first moment I saw you, I felt that—"

"Hold it right there, I'm not one you can win over with simple flattery, I just want you to give me a way to contact you in case I require your services."

"No, no, not as you think, I am unworthy to serve you, but should you ever need it, simply send a letter with your owl, and it will know where I am."

"I see, goodbye."

After saying that, John went in the direction of Professor McGonagall who was no longer with the bartender but with a thin, sickly-looking man with a shy attitude.

"Mr. Carter, what you said was rather rude, not because your background is high level, it doesn't mean you have to look down on others, go apologize and then come back."

John was stunned by Professor McGonagall's attitude, so he unconsciously nodded and went to the bartender, who gave him a couple of sweets after apologizing.

"How did you meet Mundungus?" asked Professor McGonagall when John returned.

"I needed an owl and asked someone to get me a wizard, he was the lucky one who was caught."

"I understand, though I recommend you don't make too many friends with him, he tends to take advantage of even his own allies. By the way, let me introduce you, this is Professor Quirinus Quirrell, in charge of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts classes in the next school year."

"A pleasure Professor Quirinus, John Carter at your service."

"Hello, a pleasure John," stammered Professor Quirrell.

John felt his heart clench with fear at said professor. Though it was a fleeting moment, he could feel the immense murderous intent this one directed at him—a murderous intent created by the murder of thousands of lives. Anger coursed through his body, but, still, he remained calm, until he discovered that, if said murderous intent came from the slaughter of mages or humans, he would not intervene, of course, unless this professor did not strike first.

"Quirinus, we have to go, we are a little late and have a long journey to complete, see you at Hogwarts, see you later."

At that moment, the door to the bar opened, and a huge figure walked in, followed by a couple of children.