What is going on in Dumbledore's head?

“I will NOT be moving to England,” I shouted. This was utterly ridiculous. How could they do this to me? After living in Australia almost my whole life, they now wanted me to tag along to a completely different country, leaving all my friends and my school! What type of sane parents even wanted that for their child? Oh, I knew that answer: my parents.

I stepped into the fireplace hesitantly and took a pinch of Floo powder from an urn on the mantelpiece. I hated travelling by Floo. Screwing my eyes shut, I dropped the powder into the fireplace, and immediately, green flames started to lick up my robes, billowing smoke upwards. Coughing and spluttering, I stammered, “Number sixteen, Bry-brytlee P-place!”

It was one of the most fascinating places I had ever seen. Lining the street were shops of various shapes, colours and sizes, and the cobbled pathway was crowded with chattering people. It was quite noisy; the sound of all the bargaining, the whining of little children, and the screeching of animals were all mingled together, forming a deep buzzing sound like a swarm of angry bees. There were shops for cauldrons, shops for potion ingredients, pet shops, clothes shops - everything.