With hands firmly entrenched in the pockets of his muggle jeans, Harry Potter kicked away a small stone that lay by his feet and continued down the street. The shops that surrounded him significantly diminished in splendor and upkeep as he walked this way. The prime real estate of Diagon alley was found near the entrance to Muggle London. Brightly colored signs and friendly salesmen greeted the newcomers on that end of the street. Harry used to like it there. He remembered when magic was just a toy to him. Something that set him apart from his dreadful relatives. He remembered the utter awe he experienced when Hagrid led him through the wall and into the alley.
But now he knew better.
Magic wasn't a toy, it was a weapon. Magic had taken away his Godfather. As Harry turned the corner onto Knockturn Alley his scowl lessened. Here was a place that did not lie. The shops here did not try to mask their true intentions with glitz and color. Magic was dangerous and Knockturn Alley was dangerous. Everything just felt right here. Ron was concerned about Harry's newfound appreciation of the seedier areas of Magical Britain. He thought Harry was turning dark. Hermione had said that Harry was just wallowing in his depression, eschewing pleasure and comfort for melancholy. Harry knew she was right, but just couldn't seem to make himself care.
Harry's steps quickened as he passed Borgin and Burkes, that place was just a tad too malicious. Spending a little less than an hour blindly following Knockturn alley's twists and turns Harry noticed a shop he had never seen before. The only sign he could see was one that said open hanging above the doorway. His curiosity getting the better of him, Harry made his way inside.
The store was immaculate, incredibly odd for Knockturn alley. There was not a speck of dust in sight, and the air smelled faintly of lavender. The walls were lined with bookshelves, all filled to capacity. There were several other display cases neatly arranged throughout the room, and all held interesting items. Despite this wealth of paraphenalia, Harry only had eyes for one thing. A small pedestal stood in the room's center, calling out to him. As he neared, Harry saw that a box sat upon it.
Opening the box, Harry was rewarded with a small shriveled paw. It looked oddly human, five fingered and long, but it was covered in brittle black fur. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be the paw of a monkey. A voice suddenly boomed out, saying, "Are you interested in the monkey's paw, lad?"
"Uh...it's kind of ugly. Does it do anything?", responded Harry to the shopkeeper who had appeared behind him.
"Do anything? My boy, this paw has the power to grant wishes! Anything your heart desires can be made real with this paw!"
Under normal circumstances, Harry would be suspicious about such a find. He knew he should just leave it and get in touch with Hermione. At his most daring he would pocket it, bringing it directly to his friends. But for some reason, the only thing he could think of was Sirius. This monkey's paw might actually bring him back. "I'll take it!" shouted Harry, clutching the paw mightily. Harry then summoned all of his pain, longing, and rage.
Turn to Chapter 27