The morning after had been a blur.  Yeri slept across the back seat, insisting that she take Seulgi shopping for supplies first thing in the morning.  Her father had pulled Seulgi aside by the sleeve and harshly whispered in her ear.  She grimaced at the smell of smoke lingering on his beard.  “Take care of Yerim, y’hear?”  In the moment Seulgi obediently nodded, she felt him press a dirty cloth-like bag into the palm of her sweaty hands.  When she looked back up, his expression was softer, though she was half sure it was just the moonlight smoothening out the detest in his face.  “Use this to buy your wand.  Make me proud, runt.”

    Seulgi slept that night with a sense of contentment she hadn’t felt since Taeyeon’s presence in her life.

    Yeri awoke with a sharp squeal, toppling over onto Seulgi, who had been sleeping on the bed of the car below her.  Seulgi groaned at the contact, “What gives, squirt?”  

    The latter was unfazed and grabbed her by the shoulders, “C’mon!  We gotta get to Diagon Alley!  I can’t wait to get you your wand and teach you some basics!”

    Professor McGonagall had left for Hogwarts with unanswered questions.  Taeyeon and Tiffany were still nowhere to be found, and it stung Seulgi’s heart every time she realized her aunt was still possibly alive.  The night she left had been a strange one.  Seulgi was used to Taeyeon and Tiffany’s strange, late-night exhibitions.  They often left in the dead of night, and came back at the crack of dawn to hug young Seulgi to sleep.  They took care of her in her parents’ absence.  They loved her, and she truly loved them too.  That night had been different; it changed everything.  She should have been suspicious of the tears in Tiffany’s eyes, or the unusual stiffness of Taeyeon, who stoically watched Tiffany fuss over little nothings.  They never came back to hug Seulgi to sleep.

    Before the Professor disappeared (“apparated” is what Yeri had called it), she advised Yeri to tutor Seulgi through the first year of her studies up until the beginning of the school year, where she would be tutored by upperclassmen.  The young girl excitedly took on the honors, immediately rambling about the spells they would be learning and the potions they would concoct.  Anxiety rushed to the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Kim as they quickly hushed their daughter, reassuring the doubtful Professor that any spells and potions would be conjured in the safety of their home.  Seulgi smiled at the memory.  When she glanced at Yeri who was vigorously brushing her teeth along with her in the gas station sink, a wave of relief washed over her:  it really wasn’t a dream.

    “Bye, Heechul!”  Seulgi shouted to the station’s owner, who threw a nonchalant wave back at her.

    The duo mounted their boards and took off for London.  The ride had been the same:  Yeri messed around and tried to dance on her board, while Seulgi laughed from afar and attempted to scare the latter by getting a little too close.  By the time they had reached the grey streets of London, the sun was high in the sky and squeezed sweat through the pores of their skin.  Yeri led her to a familiar platform, and Seulgi spotted the infamous sign that read PADDINGTON STATION.  

    Seulgi hurriedly looked around.  There!  A cloak!  And in the opposite direction, there was a man in a green robe!  She reached out to grab Yeri’s shoulder, pointing at the strangely dressed individuals amongst the crowd of grey, “They’re wizards, aren’t they?”

    “Yeah, they are.  The more daring ones, I’d say.  Walking around in their robes and waving their wands about -- wait, that guy isn’t, I have no idea why he’s wearing that.”

    “I saw them last time we came.”

    “Try seeing them every day,” Yeri muttered before they came to a stop.  Seulgi lifted her gaze to meet a grimey small pub.  Yeri looked back to beam at her, “Here we are!  The famous  Leaky Cauldron.”

    “This is the place I saw last time,” Seulgi said under her breath. Her eyes lingered on the “L” that flickered on and off.  She had a peculiar feeling about this place.

    Yeri nodded, “That’s how I suspected you were a wizard.  Muggles can’t see this place.  Not even my mum can.”

    “Muggles?”

    “It’s what we call non-wizarding folk,” Yeri explained, “now come on!”

    Seulgi glanced back at the crowd before the doors shut behind them.  Between the bright record shop and the colorful bookstore, she realized Yeri was right: nobody seemed to take any notice of them or the pub.  Once the doors shut, Seulgi had a hard time adjusting to the dimly lit atmosphere.  For a famous place, it sure was grimey and creepy.  Once she could make out Yeri’s excited face in front of her, she looked around.  There were old women in the corner, smoking out of long, thin pipes.  A man up at the bar downed a glass of a glowing orange liquid before grunting for another.  The low buzz of chatting lulled Seulgi’s senses.

    “Hey, no time to sleep now!” Yeri snapped, “Follow me!”

    Yeri stopped for a moment to greet the bartender, whose name was Tom.  He looked something like a bald, gummy so