/12.36pm, Leaky Cauldron

The clatter of cutlery and voices filled the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday afternoon. Behind the counter, Tom the barkeeper was twisting a cup and towel together as he spoke to a customer. The gruff old wizard before him gestured with his spoon, calling enthusiastically between gulps of pea soup.

"Holyheads don't stand a chance in Azkaban against Puddlemere this weekend!" he cried, sending green slush onto the unsuspecting witch to his left. "Sorry, love." Tom rolled his eyes and began cleaning a new goblet. "Listen Tommy," the wizard implored, leaning across the counter, "I'd wager fifty galleons-"

"You mean the fifty you owe me for rent and meals?"

"-that Johnson takes the snitch in the first half hour, and sends the Harpies back to Wales with their tails between their legs!" he cried, clapping his fist to the bench emphatically.

Tom nodded obligingly and turned to restore the polished goblets to their shelves.

"Afternoon, Tom," came a pleasant voice, "your silverware is impeccable as ever."

Tom circled to see a tall, handsome young lad walking from the entrance. He smiled kindly to the barkeeper, pulling his collar as he strode.

"Ah, Mr Pendrige," Tom nodded, moving to shake the boy's hand. "What can I get for you today, sir?"

"I'm alright for the moment thank you, Tom; simply passing through."

Tom dipped his head once more, letting the lad's hand drop. "Getting your school supplies I presume?"

"You presume correct," he confirmed, "Have a good day, Tom."

"You too, Mr Pendrige."

The young man gave a polite nod, turned on his heels and continued through the bar.

"Hmpf," the gruff wizard grunted from behind his empty bowl. "How come I don't get service like that?" he demanded.

"Because," Tom said, taking his towel from the counter, "unlike you, he has enough coin to pay for his services."

/12.42pm, Broomstix

"Puddlemere, obviously."

"Are you kidding? Harpies, without a doubt."

"You're a git, have you seen Johnson? The kid's a star."

"Yeah, but your precious Puddles can't chase to save their lives!"

"Doesn't matter, the snitch'll be ours in the first ten minutes, and your points won't even count."

"Not if your little Johnson comes anywhere near our beaters! Everyone knows the Holyheads handle their bats as well as their brooms!"

"So, they're rubbish, is basically what you're saying."

"Shove off, Matherson!"

"Make me, Clarke."

"Boys!" the shopkeeper barked, slamming the broom he had been mending onto the counter. "Kindly keep it down, or find your way out!"

"Sorry, Sir," the pair muttered in unison, watching their feet.

"That's alright," the man said, gathering the scattered tail-twigs and resuming his restoration. "But the blond one's right," he spoke, "Harpies don't stand a chance."

"Ha!"

"Shove off, Matherson!"

"Make me, Clarke."

/12.49pm, Madam Malkin's Robes

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, dear. Hold still now."

The little boy teetered on the stool with his arms outstretched as Madam Malkin worked pins about his waist. His mouth was pressed tight as he focused on not moving.

"You're doing well, Adam. Just a few more pins." His older sister said encouragingly. She sat in the plush arm chair by the door, her nose buried in a thick book.

"There we go," Madam Malkin smiled, straightening to examine her handiwork, "All done." She pulled her wand from her coat and gave it a small wave. The pins melted into the fabric, joining the robes perfectly.

Adam exhaled, letting his arms drop as he stepped down from the stool. Outside, a large white creature caught his attention.

As his sister made to pay for his new robes, he hurried to the window and peered intently out, hoping to sight the doglike figure once more. With his nose pressed to the glass, he held his breath to avoid fogging his vision.

There it was, slinking around the corner. Almost the same height as he was, its fur a shock of white.

"Thank you very much, dear," Madam Malkin said to the girl, "Have a good year at Hogwarts, Adam," she called to the little boy.

"Say thank you to Madam Malkin, Adam," his sister instructed, turning to look at her brother. But he was no longer there. "Adam!"

The door was wide open, the excited babble of the street spilt into the shop. The girl picked her book up from the chair, and with a final 'thank you' over her shoulder to the seamstress, she too was out the door.

"Adam!" she called through the crowd of witches and wizards. "Adam!" she sighted his small brown head bobbing around the corner by Flourish and Blotts. He was standing by the large white creature, his hand held out as though to pat its head. The girl faltered for a moment, absorbing the sheer size of the animal, and the danger that her little brother was in. "Adam!" she shouted frantically, racing towards him. "Adam, stand back! Get away from there!"

Witches and Wizards in passing turned their heads to the commotion. She ran hastily to his side and snatched his hand in hers, dragging him away.

"What on earth were you thinking?" she demanded, "Never do that to me, ever again! Do you hear me, Adam, never!"

Adam had dropped his head respectfully, but was watching the creature from the corner of his eye. "Sorry, Piper," he said in a small voice.

"That's right. You have no idea what that beast is capable of, he could have ripped your hand off in one bite."

She was shaking Adam by the shoulders, but his gaze was still on the white animal. It was sitting on its haunches, watching them patiently, its head cocked slightly to one side.

Piper turned to look at the beast, firmly holding Adam to her side. It was the creature's eyes that caught her attention. They were a brilliant blue, large and wolfish. It just seemed to sit there, as clean and still as any domestic pet she had experienced. Her grip on Adam slackened somewhat.

"Where do you think he came from?" Adam asked, twisting his head to get a better look.

"I don't know," Piper answered, glancing up and down the street. "I bet he belongs to someone."

As the pair began straining their necks in search of its owner, the door of Flourish and Blotts opened. With a slight tinkle of the door chime, a girl exited, carrying her height in school texts. With her face hidden behind the stack of books, neither Piper nor Adam suspected her as the wolf's master. However, as she neared the beast, it rose from its still seated position, and began trailing after her.

"There!" cried Adam, his finger pointing after the girl with all the books. He wriggled out of Piper's clutch, and began racing once more after the white animal.