To Muggles, the oldest pub in London might be the White Hart on Drury Lane, the Angel on Bermondsey Wall, or the Lamb & Flag on Rose Street.
But for wizards, the Leaky Cauldron holds that title, predating the other three by a long shot.
This pub also served another function.
Every year on September 1st, the start of the Hogwarts term, the pub was packed to the rafters.
Why? Because British wizards were either notoriously old-fashioned or just liked making things difficult for themselves.
Despite having the convenient Floo Network, there was no direct Floo connection to Platform 9¾.
Unless your family was loaded and owned a house near King's Cross Station (or in the surrounding Muggle neighborhoods), the average wizarding family had limited options.
If they didn't want to ride the nauseating Knight Bus and didn't own an enchanted car, their only choice was to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road.
From there, they had to take a Muggle taxi or train to King's Cross Station.
Then, they would walk straight through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 to reach the Hogwarts Express.
Basil was a victim of this tradition.
At the crack of dawn, he got up.
Pushing his trolley, with his snowy owl Fanta in tow, he stepped into the green flames of his fireplace.
Of course, for safety, he kept his Portkey back in the Entry Room.
He had walked a full mile out of the cave entrance to the redwood tree, climbed the long ladder to the treehouse, and used the fireplace there.
So, when Tom the barman was wiping a glass and chatting with a small man in a top hat, he suddenly saw the fireplace roar with green flames.
Out stepped a blonde boy with a droopy face and dead, tired eyes.
Tom recognized the boy instantly.
Little Basil, who used to visit Diagon Alley often with his grandmother before she passed.
The boy who used to be full of sunshine and smiles now looked like this.
Tom wiped a tear from his eye with a dirty rag.
He hurried out from behind the bar, ran over to Basil, and grabbed his hand.
"My boy, are you alright? You're heading to the station today, right? I'll take you!"
Basil was confused. Before he could even refuse, the bald, walnut-faced old man turned to the small man in the top hat.
"Diggle! Watch the shop for a bit. I need to take this child to the station!"
Ten minutes later.
Basil stood on Platform 9¾, his arms full of snacks and his pockets heavier by 7 Galleons, still looking confused.
Old Tom had given too much; Basil couldn't refuse.
He had already planned his route perfectly—take the train from Paddington, get off at King's Cross.
He was going to camp out at the station to intercept Harry Potter and become his "First Friend"!
He wanted to earn Gems and figure out how to get the [Harry Potter Echo] through the "Making Friends" mechanic.
But...
"Wait, so I'm not broke anymore?"
The purchasing power of a Galleon was immense.
These 7 Galleons alone could cover his basic living expenses (food, oil, rice) for a year if spent wisely.
"No! Gilderoy Lockhart!"
"That old fraud!" Basil narrowed his eyes, his internal monologue filled with murderous intent.
Lockhart's books were expensive, and the school list required seven of them!
If things went according to the plot, Basil's already struggling household finances would be devastated.
In his mind, a new line appeared on his "To-Do List for First Year":
[Expose Gilderoy Lockhart as a Fraud!]
After all, he didn't need to maintain the plot.
The more the timeline deviated, the more Gems he earned!
"Speaking of Gems... if I meet more people now, will my Gem income increase?"
"And does this count as 'Making Friends'?"
He checked the time. It was only 10:00 AM.
The train wouldn't leave for another hour.
"Step right up! Don't miss out!"
"Are you tossing and turning at night, worried about entering a strange magical world?"
"Are you feeling anxious about leaving your parents?"
"Are you worried you'll fail the entrance exam and get sent home?"
Harry Potter felt an inexplicable kinship with the blonde boy in the crowd.
Every word the boy spoke seemed to hit right at his insecurities.
Plus, Harry felt like he owed his smooth arrival at the platform to this boy.
Let's rewind 10 minutes.
10:30 AM. London, King's Cross Station.
The Dursleys were in a rush to get to the hospital to remove the pig's tail from Dudley's rear end.
After a few mocking comments, they dumped Harry between platforms 9 and 10.
Just as he was about to ask a guard for help, a group of people passed behind him.
A few snippets of conversation floated into his ears.
"Pity George isn't here... Platform 9¾ is lively right now... relative of Finn Granger, the Potioneers Society President..."
Harry spun around. The speaker was a black boy with dreadlocks, talking to four other boys.
They were all pushing trunks.
One by one, they walked through the barrier and vanished before his eyes.
So, Harry copied them and ran at the barrier...
And found himself on Platform 9¾, exactly as his ticket said.
There, he saw a crowd surrounding a blonde boy, looking at him as if he were a savior.
The boy had a strange, intimidating aura, yet he also seemed incredibly approachable.
This aura caused several older students, who initially wanted to interrupt him, to subconsciously stop in their tracks.
"My friends, you don't need to worry about any of that!"
"Because I—AM—HERE!"
"And since I am here, the skies over Hogwarts will be clear!"
"I present to you: Recommended Reading Lists for Years 1-7!"
From the crowd, a girl with bushy brown hair and large front teeth stepped forward.
"I'll take one. How much?"
The blonde boy pulled out a sheet of parchment.
"One Sickle, my friend!"
The blonde boy continued his pitch.
"The Relationship Map of Key Figures in the Ministry of Magic!"
Behind Harry, a voice rang out.
"I'll take that!"
Harry turned around abruptly. It was a tall, thin boy with red hair.
The boy strode away from his family towards the blonde salesman.
"I hope you're not playing any tricks. I'm a Prefect!"
The blonde boy nodded and pulled out another sheet of parchment.
"Of course, my friend! Honest business, fair prices! Two Sickles!"
Harry watched, dumbstruck.
Especially as he noticed the blonde boy's pockets getting bulgingly full.
Harry's stomach gave a strange twitch.
Are all wizard kids this impressive?
Was my acceptance to Hogwarts a mistake?
Should I go to a wizarding preschool for a year first?
Harry's thoughts were spiraling until a voice next to his ear snapped him back to reality.
"Pretty enviable, right? Who knew you could make money like that!"
Harry turned. The speaker was another red-headed boy—tall, thin, with big hands, big feet, a long nose, and a face full of freckles.
If Harry remembered correctly, this was the brother of the "Prefect" guy.
The freckled boy was staring straight at the blonde boy's pocket with longing in his eyes.
"I can't believe someone managed to get money out of Percy."
"Yeah," Harry nodded.
A smile crept onto his face unknowingly.
Making a new friend... this was definitely a good start.
This unknown magical world, this Hogwarts... it was going to be great.
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