"Now then." Professor Weasley arranged her robes around her, settling into the seat across from him. "I expect you have questions. Most Muggleborn students do. Ask them, though I can't promise to answer everything. Some things are better learned through experience."
Rowan had a thousand questions. He forced himself to focus on the practical ones.
"You mentioned a stipend. Twelve Galleons. How much is that in pounds sterling?"
Professor Weasley's lips twitched. "Practical first, as I suspected. The exchange rate fluctuates, but at present, one Galleon is worth approximately twelve shillings. A bit over half a pound. Your stipend equals about seven pounds."
Seven pounds. Rowan did the mathematics quickly. That would keep a working-class family fed for months, but given what he'd need for an entire year of magical education, it might prove tight. His ninety-three pounds, though, would convert to roughly a hundred and fifty Galleons.
A fortune.
"And my own money? Can it be converted?"
"Of course. Gringotts Bank handles such transactions. There's a fee, naturally, but it's manageable." Professor Weasley studied him with those sharp eyes. "You've saved money, then? That's unusual for a child in your circumstances."
"I've worked since I was six. First as a scavenger in the mills, then I began writing. The Times pays well for good copy."
This time Professor Weasley did smile. Genuine approval. "Enterprising. Ravenclaw, I suspect, though the Hat will make the final determination. You'll do well at Hogwarts, Mr. Ashcroft, provided you can navigate the social complexities."
"You mean there's prejudice against Muggleborns?"
The question hung in the air. Professor Weasley's expression grew somber.
"You're direct. Yes, that's precisely what I mean." She leaned forward slightly. "The magical world is not so different from the Muggle one in that regard. Those with old family names and inherited wealth often look down upon those without. As a Muggleborn, you'll face skepticism, suspicion, and in some cases outright hostility."
She paused, making sure he was listening.
"But you should know that Hogwarts does not tolerate discrimination based on blood status. Headmistress Mole is quite firm on that point. As am I."
"What about outside Hogwarts?"
"Outside Hogwarts, the world is more complicated." Professor Weasley sighed. "I won't lie to you, Mr. Ashcroft. Muggleborns must work twice as hard to earn half the respect. But it can be done. I've seen many students of Muggle parentage go on to remarkable careers. Your blood doesn't determine your worth, regardless of what certain pure-blood families might claim."
Rowan absorbed this, cataloging it alongside what he remembered from his previous life. The prejudice against Muggleborns. "Mudbloods," the worst would call them. It was endemic to magical society. It wouldn't change easily.
But he'd faced hardship before. Survived the orphanage, the mills, the grinding poverty of Victorian London. He could survive magical Britain's class system too.
The carriage rattled through the streets. Rowan watched through the window as the buildings changed from cramped tenements to elegant townhouses, as crowds shifted from factory workers to well-dressed ladies and gentlemen. London was a city of stark contrasts. Unimaginable wealth existing mere streets away from desperate poverty.
"Tell me," Professor Weasley said, "what do you know of magic? Have you read anything? Heard stories?"
Rowan considered his answer carefully. He couldn't reveal too much.
"Folk tales, mostly. Stories of witches and wizards, magical creatures, enchanted objects. I always thought them fantasies." He met her eyes. "Are they real? All of them?"
"Some are. Others are exaggerations or complete fabrications. Dragons are quite real, for instance, as are unicorns and phoenixes. But you won't find witches riding broomsticks to steal children."
"Can wizards turn people into toads?"
"With sufficient skill and the proper incantation, yes. But it's not casual, and it's certainly not legal." Professor Weasley's expression turned stern. "Magic is a tool, Mr. Ashcroft. Like any tool, it can be used for good or ill. At Hogwarts, you'll learn to use it responsibly."
She began listing subjects. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Astronomy, History of Magic. Each one sounded fascinating. Each one represented knowledge Rowan desperately wanted.
"How does it work?" he asked. "Magic, I mean. Is it something inside us, or something we draw from the world?"
"Both, in a way." Professor Weasley settled back in her seat, clearly pleased by the question. "Magic is an inherent ability, yes. Something you're born with. But it's also a skill that must be trained and refined. Raw magical power without knowledge is useless at best, dangerous at worst. That's why we have Hogwarts."
The carriage turned onto a street Rowan didn't recognize. The buildings here looked older, more cramped together. Professor Weasley pulled out her wand again.
"We're nearly there. Diagon Alley lies just beyond that pub, the Leaky Cauldron. Can you see it?"
Rowan peered through the window. There was a dingy-looking pub sandwiched between a bookshop and a haberdashery, so thoroughly unremarkable that his eyes seemed to slide right past it.
"Barely," he admitted.
"That's the magic at work. Most Muggles can't see it at all." The carriage stopped, and Professor Weasley opened the door. "Come along. We have considerable shopping to accomplish."