It was a bright, sunny day at Diagon Alley, the ideal time for shopping. Wizards and witches skipped down the lanes swinging large bags from their hands, smiles stretched across their shinning face. Voices filled the air with a pleasant sensation of a secure atmosphere. Children goggled at the new creations in the store windows and then frolicked off to their parents to tell them what wonderful things Diagon Alley held. It was always hectic, and the shopkeepers wouldn't have it any other way. They found delight in showing customers the new arrivals, saying 'Just came in, top quality! Here is the only place you'll find it!' and cheerfully waved the customers out the door, whether they bought something or not. Not one magical being would turn down a chance to stroll down the streets of Diagon Alley- it was a free place, full of laughter and elation. It was also famous.
It was like Christmas all year. You know how you get that warm feeling inside when you walk through a department store or market with the Christmas carols filling your ears and the beautification of the red and green decorations? Or the time when you watch the first snowfall of the year with a dreamy through your window? That is the feeling now if you were there. The laughter, singing and just the overall sensation made you all blissful inside and out. It was immensely hard to explain; if you ask one what it is like in Diagon Alley, they would go misty eyed and not say a thing for several minutes. That's how extraordinary it is there.
But, you know, Diagon Alley was not always overflowing with freedom. There was a dreadful period once upon a time until it ended about three years ago. No longer were there deaths in the streets, howls of pain in the night and nowadays, you can live in your home without it being set alight. Yes, life was terrific for those who survived then in this day and age.
The magical world celebrated the thirty first of July with thankful hearts and this part of London was the most eager to do so. And, wouldn't you know it, it is July the thirty first in Diagon Alley at this very moment. Streamers were dangling off every sign, every building and shop, every lamppost or doorway of one colour: green. No, it wasn't Saint Patrick's Day, but most believe it is something more. And if you think the green balloons in the air are for a birthday party, you're wide of the mark.
Everyone of magical ancestry knew about this big day. How could you not? But, Chester Churner, a small youngster that was on his way to The Three Broomsticks with his mother, didn't know what all the hustle and bustle was about. Why on earth was everyone wearing green rosettes and stick-on lightning bolts?
"Mum?" asked young Chester as his mum returned with two mugs of Butterbeer, "Why is it such a big day? I don't understand."
His mum smiled warmly down at her son as he sipped some of his drink. He managed to get a good amount down his front then in his mouth by not taking his curious eyes off his parent.
"Oh, Chester, can I take you anywhere?" asked Mrs. Churner, but she was smiling. She took a handkerchief from her purse, reached across the table and tried to clean the mess off. Chester giggled.
"No, mum, don't. I'm clean already!" he squeaked, shoving her hand away. She shook her head and tucked what was left of the piece of cloth back into her purse.
"Mum, you didn't answer me," said Chester eagerly, "Why is today so special? We must have run into a thousand people with Firebolts. They went out of style ages ago!" his mother's smile grew wider, "What do you know that I don't?"
"Well, you'd learn all about it when you get to school," snapped Mrs. Churner, "They didn't build Hogwarts for lolly-gaggling around, Chester."
"Mum!" cried Chester in his high voice. She laughed.
"Well, Chester, July thirty first is a famous date for an event that happened three years ago," Mrs Churner explained to her wide eyed son, "It is something none of us will forget… well, Muggles, naturally, would, because they don't know in the first place."
"Get to the point, Mum, I'm dying!" squealed Chester with a voice that was muted by the surrounding people, but Mrs. Churner, being the caring, loving mother she was, heard him perfectly.
"Okay," she started again, "Well, today is someone's nineteenth birthday. They did something we're all thankful for. That's why everyone celebrates their birth"
Chester could handle the pressure. He got excited over things such as this, and his mother knew this. She loved teasing him.
"I know, I'm getting there," smiled Mrs, Churner, "Do you remember the rebellions three years ago? Do you know who caused them?"
Chester shook his head vigorously.
"Do you know why people are wearing green today?"
Chester shook his head again.
"Do you think you can wait until your first day of school?"
Chester shook his head, stopped, and grinned.
"No, come on!" he said restlessly, "Spill the beans!"
A bartender who had happened to be walking past their table laughed and patted Chester's head. He was wearing a green bowler hat over his sleek, dark hair. He walked off with a tray of beverages, still chuckling to himself.
"He's wearing green too!" said Chester, "Come on, Mum! I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."
Mrs. Churner watched her small son lean over on the table secretively, his eyes as big as dinner plates. My, she cherished him. He was all she had, and she wouldn't keep anything from him. For the sake of wizards, this was too big not to tell him!
"Well, Chester, a boy was enrolled to your school long ago," she started, "He was famous, and everyone knew his name at the time. We still do! You knew that record at Hogwarts? The one where a first year was the youngest student to be put on a Quidditch team? Well, this boy set this record. And it still stands today," she reached out to smoothed her sons untidy hair with her fingers, "He taught the world that you didn't need to be a pure blood to do brilliant things. He smartened everyone up, I'd say."
Chester was hanging on her every word. Mrs. Churner continued.
"Well, there was a name that everyone feared so much that they dared not speak it. This man- or thing- spread fear across the world for years, until this boy, who was only a baby at the time, ruined him and lived with no injures but a cut on his forehead. He couldn't avenge his parents, who died at wand point… my, he hated that more than anything. Many insulted him for being an orphan…
"This boy and this man met many times after that, and each time the boy managed to get away alive, at least. Oh, did he ever have a horrible time with him! He'd appear in front of him on his way to class and all his friends would vanish. He wrecked his life, this man, until his graduation.
"Well, Chester, this boy was fed up with all the deaths and torture that he decided to end it all the next time they would meet. And, you know what? He did. He finally avenged his parents and friend's deaths one night when he sent this man to Azkaban. He's still there, rotting away, I hope.
"Now, listen close, Chester… you were asking why everyone's wearing green? Well, green was this boy's eye colour. Anyone who knew him would tell about his so bright eyes. He was known for his eyes and recognized for his scar. This is why we celebrate his birthday; if he weren't born, we'd be under the dark arts in some prison. He made us free from the Dark Lord, the worst of all time. His name was Lord Voldemort. Nobody's afraid to speak of it today since the boy came 'round and proved Voldemort wasn't all high and mighty as we thought he was."
Chester paid no attention to the hurly-burly around him, if they were serving drinks or chatting.
"What's his name?" squeaked Chester eagerly, not able to contain his curiosity, "You know, the name of the one with the green eyes?"
Mrs. Churner's smile became wider as she remembered the boy who put this world straight.
"I'll tell you, as long as you remember and tell about him to your own kids," Chester made a face. She laughed, "Okay, maybe not, but remember him for your life's worth… his name was Harry James Potter."
Now Chester understood everything… eventually. He put his brain to work until he remembered every little detail. The more and more he thought, the more and more his mind trailed off to something else. His rosy face became solemn, a look that wasn't very often greeted into his expression
"Mum," said Chester quietly, "Do you think dad was alive when Harry Potter was here? D'you think he met him?"
Mrs. Churner frowned. Her son looked strangely absent at that moment. She enjoyed him much better when he was in high spirits. They never really spook of Mr. Churner that often; it was a very touchy subject for them both.
"Yes, he was alive then," she answered, "But I don't think he met Harry at some point. Maybe you'll meet him. He used to go to this very pub when he was at school. He even bought his school supplies here in London!"
She didn't mention that Harry Potter hadn't been seen in years. It seemed to cheer Chester up a bit; the corners of his tiny mouth were twitching.
"That's more like it," said Mrs. Churner, "Are you finished your Butterbeer? All right, it's getting a bit busy here. I'll get the check."
She was about to stand until someone came from the throng of customers at the resister and set the bill on the table.
"Oh, thank you for saving me the trouble," she said as she fished through her purse for change, "It's really busy in here-"
She found the right amount of change and held out her hand for the man to take it. He didn't move.
"It's been paid for," said the voice that must have came from the man, "You need to get out of here. It's getting to the afternoon rush."
"T-thank you-"
Mrs. Churner stopped and her breath caught in her throat when she looked up. Maybe she was hallucinating? Perhaps a dream? She had to blink a few times to make sure what she saw was indeed what was in front of her, for under the dark hooded cloak was two bright green eyes starring right back at her. It couldn't possibly be…
"Have a good time at Hogwarts, all right?" said the man was he bent down to met Chester's eyes, "I did."
A few strands of black hair fell into his eyes. He pushed them away to reveal-
'The scar' thought Mrs. Churner, 'it is real. Just like lightning…'
The man stood, clapped Chester on the shoulder and turned to flash his boyish grin at Mrs. Churner. He winked.
"That was him, isn't it?" asked Chester as his eyes never removed from the man striding back into the crowd. He disappeared with a blink. Mrs. Churner couldn't answer for a moment. She found her voice after what seemed like hours for Chester.
"It sure was."