Author's Note: Ok, this is seriously my bad. This chapter owned me for weeks. Despite starting with a 2/3 of the finished product and having the ending in a notebook, I couldn't do a thing with it for days on end. This ending is not my original ending, because honestly this is long enough and I'm tired of it. James's original disappearance in QQS took on a whole new challenge after I realized he wasn't just in the next aisle signing autographs! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the first part of their Diagon Alley Afternoon and I would love some feedback! And, just for the record, all canon HP content belongs to JK Rowling. Thank you.
I reappear next to a lamppost on the ever familiar Charring Cross Road, directly in front of the famous Leaky Cauldron. As usual, the Muggles ignore both the building and our group that's just appeared out of thin air, so we in turn ignore them. I suppose that's the key to the Statute of Secrecy or whatever; if you ignore the Muggles, they'll ignore you and thus… the wizarding world won't get found out, or something as moronically simple as all that. A bright London sun beats down upon us and I briskly follow my cousins and brother into the modest pub, wondering what sort of reception we'll get today.
The Leaky is currently brimming with the early lunch crowd, mostly witches and wizards that have unshackled themselves from their desks at the Ministry or Daily Prophet for a brief respite. This volume helps us preserve our anonymity a fraction longer than usual and I follow Hugo and Roxy as closely as possible, as they weave single file through tables and diners alike behind Albus. By the time we pass the bar however, I can already hear people starting to whisper and point in our direction.
"Wasn't that Al Potter? You know, the editor of 5W Magazine?" some young wizard asks his girlfriend as I push by. It's hard to get around them as they're sharing a stool, with her legs sticking out into the aisle.
"Would make sense!" says the witch enthusiastically, as she twists her neck around to catch a glimpse of my brother's darting figure, "James Potter and Fred Weasley just walked through here ten minutes ago. Maybe he's meeting them somewhere." I roll my eyes incredulously.
"Yea that's right!" shouts a middle-aged wizard to their left, "James Potter just gave me an autograph. There's a bloke who really responds to his fans!" Cue me fake hurling, as he continues, "My wife also swears she just saw Louis Weasley sneak past here with one of his sisters. She'd know, as she loves his work. They came through the kitchens! I wonder where they're all going."
If only he knew, I think sarcastically, before scampering away at a near run to catch up with the others. Albus moves pretty damn fast in these situations, I have to say. Practice definitely makes perfect. Of course, it really makes sense that he hurries right now, seeing as he's finally being recognized left and right by Leaky patrons. Most of these people can, at the very least, pick a decent Harry Potter look-a-like out of a crowd. And that's not even including the other 16-35 year-olds around here, who are actually recognizing him because they buy the majority of his magazines every month.
This magazine is the main reason my brother's so popular these days, it isn't simply being Dad's son any more. I knew his wearing a newsboy cap and sunglasses (to hide his noticeable green eyes) weren't going to fool anyone long enough. Al actually flirted with the idea of taking Polyjuice Potion today. In the end though, he decided he didn't fancy being stuck looking like some random bloke any longer than it took to walk through the pub. While my second oldest brother doesn't bask in his celebrity like James, he is comfortable with it enough to go out in most public situations without it bothering him. That being said, I wouldn't be surprised if he winds up signing a few autographs pretty soon. He's got a kind, patient nature with people that way. I mean, I've seen James sign plenty autographs before too. But, I don't know why, it just makes me feel like he's trying too hard to be important. Merlin, I'm probably being super biased. Anyway, it's just a feeling I get. Hey, it's not like someone's been asking for my autograph lately so I can test my own way of handling it. Maybe I would be like James and not Al.
True to form, Albus stops before we reach the back door to the walled courtyard and jots his name on the few pieces of parchment thrust in his direction. He also whips off his sunglasses and smiles candidly for some pictures, before politely holding up a hand and ducking for the door. I think they must've caught me in the background in a few shots, as is the usual when I'm out with either of my brothers now. Hope they got my good side then, I consider, as we approach the entrance to Diagon Alley.
We don't have to bother with tapping the bricks on the wall (good thing, as I've never gotten the combination straight in 17+ years on this planet), as a group of older wizards are already handling it. Incidentally, I've always wondered how random witches and wizards, who are in town visiting, figure it out. Do they just floo into the Ministry? Does, Hannah Abbott (a friend of my Dad's, who owns the Leaky) tell them? If they haven't got family around here, how do they know?
As usual though, it's a topic for another day. Following the short queue that's present, we pass into the Alley and the gateway seals itself behind me. It's always intimidated me a bit when that happens, like a tiny shiver of claustrophobia creeping into my head. Walking along behind Rox and Hugo, I try to scope out our destination: Madame Pointer's Wedding Emporium. Dom told me it's a decent sized shop, painted off white with lavender trim, not five minutes walk into the Alley.
Albus strolls beside me, with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, nodding smartly at random passersby who wave at him. I ignore these people easily and focus on my task. One of us has to find the place and it certainly won't be the boys, what with Hugh's unobservant streak and Al's polite catering to his readers distracting him. The only reason Roxy tends to miss things too (and don't tell her I said this), is because she walks so bloody fast. Honestly, no one's brain could possibly process all the stimuli around here at her traveling speed. Mind you it'd probably still be impossible if you were crawling along, as there's that much to see. Finally though I get lucky, spotting Madame Pointer's two doors away from the Magical Menagerie. That reminds me, got to remember that ruddy Crup food for Quiver later or Mum will surely start harping about the World Cup again. I wonder how I could innocently remind her I'm of age and can technically do whatever I please within the law.
A bell tinkles faintly in the distance, as we walk into the shop and look around curiously. None of us have been here before. For Vic and Ted's wedding, Aunt Fleur called in a friend from France to do all the measurements and tailoring. I suppose that's not in Uncle Percy's budget for Moll's big day though. The shop has two large, frosted glass windows with displays in them, one a realistic floating mannequin of a groom in stately black dress robes. The other shows a bride: she's dressed in a multi-layer, cream-colored gown and wearing a glittering tiara.
"I've heard about this place!" Rox suddenly says in my ear, "Supposedly, if you stare at her long enough, (she means the faux bride) you see yourself in her place all done up to walk down the aisle at your own wedding. Apparently, if you've met your true love already you also see a vision of him standing at the altar." That's some story, I think incredulously. I catch Hugh's eyes widening as he listens in, he totally believes it. Albus however simply scoffs and rolls his eyes, before walking over to the reception desk. A skinny, pleasant looking witch that I hadn't noticed at first is sitting there with a telephone and a large ledger.
"Rubbish Rox!" I snort derisively, "Who fed you that bit of horseshit?" My cousin scowls at me defensively. She's always been a bit of a romantic. As if I'd honestly have a premonition of mine and Damian's wedding if I stared at that mannequin? Yea freaking right. I say this to Rox and she decides to play devil's advocate on me.
"But you see… that's the mystery of it. What if you looked and you didn't see Damian? What if you saw a faceless stranger, thus symbolizing you hadn't found the right soul mate yet? That maybe your boyfriend you were happy with, wasn't the one? Or worse still, what if you saw someone you already knew but weren't dating? Who you had never considered dating? Or, who was dating someone else and you couldn't have them? Wouldn't that be terribly tragic and awful?" rambles my best friend.
That's it. I really, really want to know who fed her this idea, because it's now annoying me. My patience today with getting relationship advice is already seriously thin. In the name of Merlin, there are no stupid magical mannequins just floating around this world that can tell me how my love life is going to turn out. Hell, that'd be even more hypocritical than my stupid brother, who was trying to do something eerily similar. But, at least James hasn't pretended he can actually predict the future with certainty, instead of just being an interfering git. Or…at least he hasn't yet. I wouldn't put it past him to try though. I ask her again where this, for lack of a better word, rumor, came from. "Laney," she says simply.
Ah, Laney. That explains it. Laney Du Pres is our dorm mate and fellow Gryffindor seventh year back at Hogwarts. The petite brunette is… how to put this kindly… a wild child. I don't think she's ever seen a party she didn't like and the same also goes for boys. Laney likes them older than her normally (she once had a crush on Albus, but it never panned out), and is a fall in and out of love in-a-second romantic. I have no doubts she's considered marrying all her boyfriends at some point.
Incidentally, she also has a twin brother named Ollie who briefly dated Roxy. It was one of those brief, awkward, destined to fail romances that happened back in our 4th year. You know, the type that includes a couple of Hogsmeade weekend dates and some adorably cute walks around the Black Lake complete with hand holding and the occasional quick kiss? He was Rox's first official boyfriend (not counting this Ravenclaw she snogged behind the greenhouses a few times in 3rd year) and to this day is still very sweet and innocent.
But alas, that was the trouble. Roxanne eventually wanted a little bit more romance and excitement in her love life and poor Ollie just wasn't capable of it. So they split up and remained friendly. I don't even think he took the whole thing personally because, at the heart of it, Oliver's one of those Gryffindors who you wonder why he wasn't sorted into Hufflepuff instead. Not that that's a diss or anything. I'm sure the same thing was said about Professor Longbottom once or twice. And look what he did to Voldemort's snake in the end. He's a right hero. No, truth be told, I really have a soft spot for Ollie and so does Rox. His twin on the other hand, is crazy. She's always worth having a couple rounds of firewhiskey with, but borderline delusional about some things. My case and point, this absurd mannequin myth she's supporting.
"Was Laney drunk when she told you this?" I ask my cousin, "Because I wouldn't put it past her to have made the whole thing up on a whim." Rox smiles in spite herself, much as the romantic in her would like to defend Laney's idea to the death, my joke is kind of funny (and probably very true).
"She said she heard it from a cousin," says Roxy, shrugging half-heartedly. I catch her giving the female mannequin a wistful glance. "Wonder what'd show about me and Tristan…he means a lot to me," she murmurs, half to herself. Tristan Galloway is her boyfriend and one of Al's best friends. He has dark, almost black hair, rare amber-colored eyes and works in the Department of Magical Games & Sports, Quidditch division, at the Ministry. They've been dating for just over 14 months.
"Look and you shall find all the answers you seek!" I say grandly, my voice dripping with sarcasm and doubt.
Hugo snorts in amusement at my tone, probably trying to make up for appearing gullible before. Rox gives me a slightly scathing look and shakes her head. I kind of get the feeling that, believing the myth like she does, she's actually afraid to stare at it. Maybe afraid the vision wouldn't show Tristan waiting at the end of the aisle for her. That maybe, they aren't a perfect match. Unfortunately, I just think the whole thing is stupid, which has probably resulted in my taking this teasing of my best friend too far. She's starting to look vaguely depressed about the whole thing.
"What's a matter Rox?" I ask seriously, as Albus calls the three of us over. Instead of answering though, my cousin just shakes her head and shrugs moodily. As we walk behind a new Madame Pointer's employee (a slightly dumpy witch in robes of mauve) down a cozy carpeted hallway towards the back of the shop, I'm pretty miffed. It isn't like Roxy to be so serious and quiet about something, especially right after I've teased her about it. Normally she'd be fighting back, hitting me or arguing or whatever. Hugo just gives us both a leave-me-out-of-it look and splits off to join Albus and the other boys in a fitting room marked: 'Wizards Only'.
The witch points me and Rox in the direction of the one marked 'Witches Only' across the hall and then disappears back the way we came in. I sigh as Roxy ducks in ahead of me and blows off talking about what's gotten to her. I don't reckon I should be apologizing or anything, (it's not like I insulted her directly, unless she's taken to feeling for the mannequin or something) so I just let it go for now. I'll just buy her a drink at lunch later and she can either 'fess up or bury her feelings deeper, whatever suits her.
Walking into the fitting room is oddly reminiscent of walking into my kitchen earlier this morning, except in here people are half-naked. On one wall is a row of changing stalls, separated by partitions and closed in the front by heavy, opaque purple curtains. No doubt if you were a more modest bride or bridesmaid, the idea would be that you could change behind them in relative privacy. Thing is, this bunch of Weasleys aren't modest or shy. Dom is currently walking around in her black bra and panties holding up two dresses appraisingly. Lucy meanwhile, is wearing a third dress and checking herself out in one the room's many full length mirrors. Rose is standing near her, in just a t-shirt that comes down to her mid-thigh, critically observing a seamstress witch while she sticks pins in my cousin Molly. My soon-to-be- married cousin is modeling, what I assume, is her gown. Tucked in the corner of the room, looking sorely out of place is a pram. Sitting inside it, looking wide-eyed at the chaos surrounding him, is my second cousin, baby Adrian Peter Lupin.
He is Teddy and Victoire's 1 and ½ year old son and has inherited his mother's silver-blonde hair and his father's natural (when he's not changing them) brown eyes. Apparently in this case, at least in the first battle, when veela genes meet those of a Metamorphagus, the veela wins out. Adrian cannot change his appearance like this father and grand-mother are/were able to. Of course, it's not certain he'll never be able to, as the genes do lay dormant inside of him, but all past knowledge of the gift indicates he would have done so by now. Ted and his mother were both known to have started changing within a few days of their birth. Regardless of all that, he's still a really cute bugger. I mean, so what if he can't make his hair match these ugly-ass curtains? All of us love him to death, but I currently wonder if he's being scarred for life by witnessing this family event.
"Hey Vic!" I holler, looking around to find my oldest cousin, "I think your scarring your kid."
The pretty blonde suddenly appears, wrenching back the curtains of one of the stalls and sticking her head out. "Tut Lily, do not be so dramatic!" scolds the imperious 25-year-old, "He is fine, better in here than in the boys fitting room with Ted and the others. They are way too rambunctious." It's hard to disagree with that statement. I shudder to think of what sort of tomfoolery is going on in there.
"Alright well, you'll be singing a different tune if his Auntie Dom accidentally flashes him as she struts around nearly naked right now," I say, shrugging and walking over to the pram to say hello to him.
Vic thinks this over for a sec and then predictably shouts at her sister to at least put a shirt on if she's going to walk around. Dom pretends not to hear, as she makes Lucy walk back and forth and spin in one of the potential bridesmaid dresses. It's some sort of shiny, silky material in a vibrant shade of green (sort of reminds me of freshly mown grass on a Quidditch pitch), with a full hooplike skirt from the waist down to the floor. The top is more fitted, with a brocade of flowers bordering the under bust. Its color and conical shape honestly say to me one thing: Christmas tree. It's almost like Luce is wearing an evergreen, only a few shades lighter than normal. Judging by the skeptical look on Dominique's face, she's thinking along the same lines as I am.
"Not exactly flattering," I pipe up, jerking my head at the dress and picking Adrian out of his pram, "But if it was a little darker… at least it wouldn't clash with our red hair." Molly, Lucy, Roxanne, Rose and I all inherited the Weasley family red hair. Not that Moll has to worry about hers in this case, she's wearing white. I have it darker than the others, redder with slight brown highlights instead of orange. More like my grandmother Lily's and less like my mum's I guess. In my arms, Adrian grabs a loose strand of it, wraps it around his baby fist and pulls. Impish little devil isn't he? I scowl and tug it free.
"Maybe if the green was darker it'd be better," murmurs Lucy, agreeing with me and thoughtfully picking the skirt up off the ground to examine it. Dom pantomimes sticking her finger down her throat and gagging, while fervently shaking her head no. I guess she considers this one a lost cause, no matter what color it is. I snicker and Adrian squeals at his Aunt's silly gestures.
"What if it was more form fitting on the bottom? I mean it's not like any of us are fat," Luce adds, looking around at all of us. I knew I could always count on her to be subtle. Not. However, we still all adamantly agree with her and Dom goes back to assessing the two dresses she was carrying earlier. Lucy flounces into her stall to take the, as she just referred to it, 'stupid thing' off. I roll my eyes heavily and shoot Rox (who's silently leaning against her stall's partition) a look. At this rate, it's going to be a long afternoon. I bet the boys are already nearly finished. There's nothing to critique about plain black dress robes after all. Maybe, I could get Al to go to the bank for me. The goblins might bust his balls a bit, but if I give him my vault key it should be alright.
"What do you think Adee? Should cousin Lily make cousin Albie run an errand for her, because Auntie Dom is picky about dresses and this is going to take forever?" I ask the baby gurgling in my arms. Adrian responds by babbling incoherently and again grabbing my hair. It's kind of his thing with me. This time he takes the hair, opens his palm and offers it back to me, his eyes wide and proud. "Oh! Thanks buddy!" I say, pretending to be grateful as I sweep the hair back into its normal position.
Adee grins enthusiastically, but I reluctantly have to put him back in the pram as Dom yells at me and throws a navy blue dress at my head. Apparently, in her opinion, these dresses won't try themselves on. Pity I think, snatching the garment off the carpet and closing myself into a stall resignedly. I can't help wondering, wasn't Molly supposed to have had a dress in mind for us when we got here? Then again, she probably did and then Dom or her sister said they didn't like it. I knew this wasn't going to be a simple in and out thing. Well here goes nothing. I quickly slip on the dress and walk out to be judged.
Over an hour later, I'm standing in front of a full length mirror, getting inspected from every angle by what I've dubbed 'The Panel'. First there's Molly, the bride herself, who holds the power of final decision. Then Dom, the self-dubbed fashion 'expert' of the group, who's arguably the most critical and lastly Lucy, the maid of honor (a.k.a Head Bridesmaid), who thinks anything that falls kind of in her jurisdiction is up to her. Rose (who can't help being bossy) and Victoire (who won't ever let anyone forget she's the oldest) have also weaseled their way into the discussion. Seeing as Rox (who's standing next me in dress option B) and I are the youngest, we got stuck as the models. Truthfully, it's getting to the point where I feel like I'm supposed to be seen and not heard, like some child in the Victorian Era. I'm again wearing the navy dress I tried on earlier and Rox is wearing a black one with an embroidered top and spaghetti straps. These are supposed to be our top two choices and it's taking forever to agree on one over the other.
"I still say black is an inappropriate color, no matter how well it goes with everyone's hair," insists Rose dismissively, "I mean it's a ruddy wedding not a funeral. Plus, the boys will already be wearing black." This is main sticking point about the black one, even though it is pretty. Dom is simply in love with it. She would have no qualms putting it on her own bridesmaids one day. No matter what's decided in the end here, I have a feeling she's going to buy it, have it slightly altered and wear it as an evening dress.
"But the blue is very somber looking too," bemuses Vic, "This is after all, supposed to be a spring wedding. It's a pity we can't find a more vibrant color." Sorry reds, purples, pinks and yellows don't coordinate with our hair like they do yours and Dom's princess, I think dully. Lucy suddenly points out that early March isn't exactly known for warm weather and that it may still be practically wintery. It's good to know we're at the point where we even start debating the seasons. I slouch tiredly against the wall. I've been walking around modeling this one for the last fifteen minutes at least and I need a break from standing and twirling. Immediate remonstrations rain down on me from the panel, as they demand I stand up straight once more.
"But you've already seen every bloody inch of the thing!" I pout, "Put it on someone else instead. We all know Rox and I aren't the tallest here, Rose is. It'll look different on her." Rose scrunches up her face and assures me that the seamstress witch took her measurements, so there's no need for her try it on as well. She's just being bloody lazy, I think spitefully.
"Well, I like the navy color. And I like almost everything else about this one, except its sleeveless and has a bow stuck on the side," I announce, with the air of someone making their final decision.
Roxy, who also looks fed up with modeling, backs up my choice, suggesting we just sever the stupid bows off if we have too, before adding that she especially likes the crisscross pattern on the back of it. Dominique says she prefers the more open back on the black one but agrees whole-heartedly about the stupid bow, grudgingly deciding she's alright with the navy dress without it. Vic is still put off by the muted color, but she and Rose are in my corner about having some sort of sleeves or straps. Lucy also puts her stamp of approval on it, sleeveless or not and finally it's up to Molly. If that sounded confusing, it's because it was.
At this stage my quiet, engaged cousin asks Madame Pointer herself if the dress can be altered for straps and if the bow can be easily removed. The older looking woman emphatically assures her anything is possible. Personally, I get the feeling she's just overjoyed to have a Weasley ordering from her shop and that's why their being so patient and accommodating with us. Hearing exactly the words she wanted to, Molly finally decides on the navy bridesmaid dress. When all is said and done, it will have the crisscross back, spaghetti straps, no bow and the form-fitted bottoms that will end slightly below the knee. Thank freaking Merlin that's over I think, as I change back into my regular clothes. It's just after two now and the boys are probably waiting for us to have lunch. Or, we'll simply have to hex them senseless if they haven't.
As we leave the cool shop, we're immediately taken aback by how warm it's become outside in the direct sunlight. Victoire automatically adjusts the sun visor on Adrian's pram so that he is well shielded and we spread out to look for the boys in the surrounding shops. The search however proves futile, causing us to reconvene outside Madame Pointer's after about 15 minutes, wondering what to do now.
Rose is visibly annoyed. She is somehow under the impression that, because she suggested they stay close they would've listened to her. Dom suggests we just go off and leave them and eat on our own, but Rose promptly comes up with an idea and shuts her down. It's definitely a control thing, in case you were curious. Rose must be in control or she thinks the proverbial ship (the afternoon in this case) will sink into chaos (anarchy too I suppose) around her. My cousin quickly performs the same clever wand work I saw Albus do in the kitchen this morning and I catch a brief flash of silver as her otter Patronus goes gamboling off down the Alley.
As we start walking slowly in its wake, I can't help but feel a jealous twinge. My ruddy Patronus can't send messages just yet, as I just managed to conjure one for the first time during spring term. For your information, she appears as a tigress and a scary looking one at that. If you knew Rose's mum's Patronus was also an otter, you'd probably be under the impression that hers is a bit of a cop out from whatever bits inside her formulate the thing. I did at first, until I realized something. First off, it is not entirely uncommon for that to happen, take for instance my father and his father before him. Both have/had stag Patronuses. My grandfather was even a stag Animagus (talented git, wish I could manage to be an Animagus). And second, it just plain makes sense. Otters are clever, a bit complicated perhaps, and also resourceful. There are probably some other otter-like qualities I'm overlooking (don't judge my memory, it's not like I have one for a pet or anything), but the point is, Rose is all those things.
Thinking about it, as I lazily window shop outside the junk shop with Lucy, the oddest Patronus I've ever seen belongs to my friend Ethan. His is a woodpecker. The Muggleborn was the first in our D.A.D.A class to form a corporeal one, which was no surprise seeing as he's the smartest kid in our year. It's a downright hilarious sight to see him summon it up really, as it even appears to be boring away at an invisible tree after it takes form. Ethan Barclay is a serious bloke and very stubborn… or to make it sound a bit more flattering, very persistent. He could well be named this year's Head Boy in a few short weeks and I'll admit he's bloody well earned it if that's the case. I know Damian has a good shot at the badge too, but I flat refuse to root for one getting it over the other. Whatever happens, I support them both.
"Hey Daydreamer, where are you right now?" asks Luce, grinning and shoving me playfully. Ha-ha. It's not my fault seeing my cousin's Patronus got me thinking about eight other things until I zoned out completely. Ok, maybe I do have a tendency to go off in my own head space a lot. I just think too much is all.
I try to assure her I'm totally in the present, but the 22-year-old gives me a skeptical look. "Oh yea, did you see those garish old dress robes on the mannequin in the corner then? What color were they?" she quizzes me teasingly.
Errr…I don't know… pink? I guess pink. Luce just shakes her head at me and smirks. Yep, I'm totally busted.
"Nope, they were yellow, sunshine yellow! Who would wear those once, let alone buy them used?" she wonders incredulously, "Anyway lets go. It looks like the guys' answer has arrived."
We turn and walk across the street to where Rose, Dom, Vic and Roxy are loitering in front of the window of a small fashion boutique. I arrive just in time, Luce on my heels, to see Al's kingfisher evaporate into thin air. Adrian babbles disappointedly and points at the spot where it had just been, before his mother whips one of his toys out of her bag and hands it to him. I catch the young boy scowling at the stuffed puppy in his hand. It seems he liked the Patronus better. Smart kid, after all the Patronus moves and talks and the puppy doesn't.
"So where are they?" I ask curiously.
Rose rolls her eyes, "Where else, but Quality Quidditch Supplies? And, not only that, but they want us to meet them over there, the lazy oafs. We really ought to have guessed."
Wow she's right, big surprise, would've never expected them to end up there. Obsessed much aren't they? Reluctantly, we set off for the sporting goods shop as a group. Those blokes are lucky it's only a few minutes away or we would have insisted they come to us. I personally can't believe James would spend part of his day off in Quality Quidditch Supplies. First off, it's kind of like taking your work home with you. And second, it's not like he doesn't get all the stuff that store sells free, from either the Arrows or his stupid sponsors. Lastly though (and this might very well explain why James would go there spontaneously), I consider how easily he'd be recognized by fans there. It's like if the Weird Sisters stopped by a musical instrument shop just for kicks. The hell if I can really still read my brother's motives, but I gather I'm not too far off base.
Upon finally zeroing in on the shop, Dom motors ahead of the rest of us impatiently, striding across the cobbles with undeniable purpose. "I'm bleeding starving!" she huffs loudly and dramatically, flinging one of the heavy glass double doors back on its hinges and entering ahead of us, "We're extracting them in 10 minutes or less… or I'm going to crush some skulls." She glares menacingly and I catch a glimpse of a doddering, old sales wizard shirking out of her way. Wincing, I follow her inside. I pass a display of toy brooms for children and start looking for the male members of my family. Dom has disappeared down the aisles in no time.
Soon, I'm easily distracted by a sales rack of new all-weather Quidditch goggles. They are impervious to snow, rain, monsoon (suppose that's not considered normal rain then?), hail, sun glare, fog and high winds. Ooh… could I seriously use a new pair, or two. The ones I have now are basically a worn out piece of rubbish at this point. The impervious charm is wearing off, the strap has broken and been mended a dozen times…etc. I wonder if I can find my size. They're 4 Galleons? Not cheap certainly, but probably worth it. I'm investigating if they have my size, when Dom suddenly reappears to grab my wrist and drag me away.
"Oh Merlin's saggy everything, no you don't Lily-pad. You stop to get goggles and then, all of a sudden, oh you need new arm guards or new gloves. That'll lead to you wanting to look at new shin pads to match or whatever and then it's suddenly 3:30 and we still haven't eaten lunch. Get them later!" hisses my scary, blonde cousin. Yikes, she came out of nowhere.
"But Dommy, I really do need those goggles. I can't keep using the same shitty ones I have now… even in pickup games. What if it rains and all of sudden I can't even score on Hugo because I can't see the ruddy hoops?" I whine. Dominque is unrelenting. We breeze past an aisle filled with all sorts of broom care products. That reminds me, I think I need some diamond-hard handle polish for my Smoke Streamer 7. But Dom still has me by the arm and I can't go back. That's right, did you catch that? I'm currently riding James's old broom that he got for being made prefect and Quidditch captain five years ago. It was so super exclusive then, that it's still very respectable right now. It's served me well the last two years, ever since James hit the pros, upgraded and gave it to me.
In case you're wondering, I would still be in a strop with him right now even if he gave me 50 Smoke Streamer 7's. Anyway, even though I certainly can't complain about its performance, the idea of taking the air this season on my older brother's old ride again is becoming tiresome (infinitely more so because I hate him). I'm thinking I want a new broom. Maybe if I finally get Quidditch captain in a few weeks (we won't discuss why I wasn't named to the post last year after Al graduated), Mum and Dad will consider the purchase. I mean if you think about it in terms of fair, they really should be ok with it, seeing as they bought brooms for Albus and wonder-boy James because they attained captainship. I'll have to start keeping my eyes peeled for something I like.
"There they are!" says Roxy suddenly, coming up next to us and pointing to a group of all wizards, ten feet away. Louis, Fred, Albus, Hugo and (to my delight) Teddy are all crowded around the Quality Quidditch Supplies wind tunnel demonstration chamber in the back of the shop. Instinctively, I notice James is nowhere to be found.
"C'mon then you tossers!" declares Dom loudly, walking up behind them, "Aren't you about ready to eat a hippogriff? I know I am." The guys chose to live dangerously and ignore her.
Over their shoulders I see a young blonde boy (so clearly not my oldest brother) in the wind chamber, testing a brand new broom model called The Javelin. It's supposed to be the fastest, straightest, truest-flying racing broom ever made, according to the advertisements I've seen. It's not really suited for Quidditch though. It's for street flying races, which are growing in popularity by the day. Pure speed brooms, like The Javelin, have little or no creature comforts to speak of. Supposedly, their harder on the ass then any broomstick made after 1820 when the Cushioning Charm was first invented. The manufacturers think they can get away with that because you don't spend hours at a time on them like you do playing Quidditch. Hell, if it wasn't mandated by the bylaws handed down by the Department of Magical Games & Sports, I doubt they'd even have Braking Charms incorporated in them. That all said, it goes over 210 miles per hour, to the delight of young male wizards everywhere. Most of which, would indeed take a giant splinter in their ass to go that fast. I'm not sure I feel quite the same, although I'd probably just like to have at least one or two goes on it for curiosities sake.
Next to the colorful ad and a small rack of Javelins, is a display for another new broom model: The Razor. Although it sounds simple, and a bit similar to its display neighbor, The Razor is more of a traditional Quidditch broom, all jacked up. Its sharp, pinpoint turns (where it gets it moniker from) are the best since the old Firebolt series, it reaches speeds of around 185 with a firm tailwind and it's got excellent balance. Come to think of it, it may very well be my next broom. Rumor also has it, that both the English and Scottish National Squad's Chasers will be using them in the World Cup final next weekend.
"C'mon!" hisses Dom again, (I'm surprised she's still this calm) tugging at both Louis and Fred's t-shirts emphatically, "I want to eat lunch and down a couple shots of firewhiskey. Dress shopping for weddings should be in the Cursebreaker Torture Training Modules. Another hour and I'd have mentally cracked. Where's Jimmy for Merlin's sakes?"
They ignore her again and continue to gape at The Javelin in action. I kind of doubt they are actually hearing her over the sounds of their own adrenaline rushing in their ears. I look nervously around the shop and so does Rox. There are a lot of witnesses around here, too many for Dom to safely commit murder.
"You reckon if we all pooled our Galleons, we could buy two and races them every day for the duration of the summer?" opines Fred, his dark blue eyes wide. I snort incredulously. He's a quality International Beater, why would he want a street-racing broom? Suddenly, I notice that Vic, Rose, Molly and Lucy have caught up at last. From his pram, Adee also ogles The Javelin in awe. Ah, they start so young with that broom envy.
"Honestly mate," says Teddy to Fred, "You're a big time professional now. Can't you damn well afford two of these no problem? In Godric's name, I wish I had the Galleons to get one all to myself." I catch Victoire's eyes narrow and she places her hands on her hips. Ted doesn't know what's coming.
"Theodore Remus Lupin!" barks the part-veela angrily, "If you ever so much as mount a broomstick that goes that fast, I will have you beheaded and thrown into a fiery abyss." Yikes, as if the beheading part wouldn't be a painful death enough? I've never outright asked him, but I'd bet galleons Nearly-Headless Nick didn't enjoy his very much.
Her husband jumps a foot, turns around and grins sheepishly. "Sorry, Rie love," he says, changing his hair to match hers on a whim, "I wouldn't actually get one. On an Auror's salary how could I?" Teddy gives her the puppy dog eyes and Vic softens a little. The reason they're such an effective weapon for him is because he actually changes them to a dog's doleful, extra-large eyes.
"Hmmph, just because you can't buy one, doesn't mean you'll never find an opportunity to ride one!" she chides, "Say one of these clowns ever gets one, you'd be unable to control yourself. Then, one wrong turn on this death machine and splat! I'm a widow and your kids are half-way to orphan!" Vic waves her arms and gestures at herself and Adrian.
Merlin, I hope she's not warming herself up for a full-on lecture/fight. Quality Quidditch Supplies will probably ban us for a year if she does. Our family's been known to resort to dueling at a moment's notice. Trying to catch Ted's eye, I suddenly notice his posture has stiffened and his eyebrows are raised questioningly as he gazes at his wife.
My oldest cousin has reddened considerably and suddenly makes a small noise of surprise before shaking her head no at him. "I'm sorry love, that's not what that meant," she says. Ted sighs and nods carefully while raking a hand through hair. That's his go-to distracted tic. So, I'm clearly missing something from this exchange. Not what she meant about what? I notice Rox and Lucy sharing bewildered looks of their own.
"What do you mean kids?" interjects Dom helpfully (at least someone seems to be reading Ted/Vic code), "As in, more than one…" Her blue eyes are flitting suspiciously between the married couple.
"Victoire!" hisses Rose quietly, so as not to be heard in the next aisle, "Are you telling us you're pregnant!?" That's Rose for you, never one to flinch from getting straight to the heart of the matter, even in a public establishment. The expressions on all of the boy's faces are a hilarious mix of shocked realization and impatience, as they wait for the part-veela's answer. I mean, they've even stopped watching the Javelin.
Before I can even begin to assess my own feelings on the subject, Vic walks over to Teddy and they immediately put their heads together. After a few moments of whispering and nodding at each other, the couple turns to face us all. My cousin already looks perfectly composed again, but that's hardly surprising. Victoire Weasley was practically born with her limitless poise. Teddy rakes a hand through his hair again and I notice its gone flaming red. He's more prone to changing when he's emotional. He clears his throat and puts his arm around Vic's shoulders.
"No Rose, Victoire is not pregnant," he says with a sigh and a glance at his wife, "But that doesn't mean we aren't trying. We've both agreed that, with me finally out of Auror training and well-established and Vic's promotion having taken effect that we're in a good place, both mentally and financially. So now, hopefully, we can give Adee a baby brother or sister." Ted punctuates this announcement by swooping down and kissing Vic on the cheek.
Victoire shares a smile with him, before interjecting, "We don't want there to be too big of a gap between our children. The more time they share at Hogwarts together the better." She walks over to the pram and picks up Adrian, who's started babbling loudly as a result of all this strained silence around him. Poor kid, he literally has no idea what's going on.
"Well than why'd you say kids just now?" asks Fred curiously. A bunch of us roll our eyes at him and just like that… the awkward tension is broken. Teddy walks over and lightly cuffs the confused wizard in the back of the head.
"It was just a slip of the tongue Freddy!" says Vic impatiently, "I meant hypothetical future kids. One day Teddy and I will have more than one kid and God forbid I have to raise them on my own because you bunch of nutters are too reckless in your hobbies." She bounces Adrian a few more times and hands him to Ted. The Metamorphagus playfully does a couple changes to please the kid (monkey ears and pig snouts) before settling the now happy youngster back in his pram. Freddy simply shrugs and goes to turn back to the wind chamber.
"Oh no you don't!" cries Dom, leaping forward and getting in front of him. Clearly, now that prospect of having a new niece or nephew on the way is off the table, she's decided to return to her original goal of getting the boys out of this shop. "Broom envy is a shameful waste of your time Fred Weasley!" Dom lectures, "Especially when you must be positively famished. We all know that breakfast at Aunt Ginny's isn't even enough to hold your appetite more than a few hours."
"Yeah, you do have a point there cuz," agrees Freddy readily, "But we can't leave yet. We have to wait for Jimmy to get back. Plus, I stopped at one of my Dad's Dragon-Roasted Nut machines on the way over here, so I'm alright for the moment."
"What? You mean he's not even here?" says Dom incredulously. The hyped-up blonde is unable to stop herself from looking around in circles for him nonetheless. A growl of frustration escapes from her lithe frame as she paces like an agitated cat. What? I'm just being honest. She looks ready to pounce.
"Yeah," pipes up Louis, "Said he needed to run an urgent errand not long after we got here. That was over an hour ago though …and he wouldn't say what it was." Merlin, that's not suspicious James, secret errands that you won't even tell your family about.
"Where is he Al?" asks Rose, rounding on my other brother pointedly. We all can't help but stare at Albus, who aside from Freddy and Trev (who isn't here), knows James better than anyone. The bewildered expression on bespectacled wizard's face however, is not encouraging.
"I don't know," says Albus sheepishly, his ears reddening with embarrassment. I suppose that is embarrassing, having no clue about the details of your own sibling's personal life when a large group of people are expecting you too. Although, I have to admit, I'm surprised at Rose. She ought to know better. Al and James really haven't spoken much in months. So how would he know? The others, I could understand their not being up-to-date on Potter sibling drama. But Rose, her and Al are too close for that. My brother pulls back his cap and scratches his head before turning to Ted for support.
"Don't look at me!" says the oldest member of our group, raising his hands helplessly, "That kid hasn't let me in on the juicy details in months. The title of foster big bro is apparently counting for less and less these days." He winces and sticks his hands in the pockets of his shorts, thumbs jutting out of the belt loops as usual. Ugh, ring up another person getting a raw deal from this egomaniac version of James S. Potter.
"Not with me Teddy," I blurt out earnestly.
"Yeah, or with me," says Albus, quickly catching my drift, "You'll always be family to us Ted."
"Well, that's good to know!" he says smiling, "Seeing as it's been official for a few years now." He's teasing, but I can tell he's grateful for the support. If it wasn't for us lot (Weasley and Potters combined) Teddy Lupin wouldn't have much of a family. All that's left, biologically speaking, is his Gran Andromeda (his mum's mum), and she's getting on in years.
"See!" Dom suddenly hollers (loud enough that customers in the next aisle turn their heads), "He's even a dick to Ted now. Why are we waiting for him exactly? I say we split." She then turns to Fred adding, "If you bloody well want to send him a Patronus that's up to you."
"Now I never said it like-" starts the easy-going Metamorphmagus. But he suddenly gets cut off mid-objection.
"Oi!" yells a jovial baritone voice from down the far end of the aisle, "What'd I miss?" Sure enough, you speak of the devil and he appears. Even though I don't want to acknowledge him, I've always been curious to fault. So as my brother strides towards us, I notice a few obvious things. His hair is sticking up more than usual, his polo shirt is rumpled and mis-buttoned and he's missing a sock. James comes to a stop in the middle of our gaping group with a cocky smile plastered on his face and pocketing his sunglasses. Merlin, he's so oblivious.
Dom steps forward smirking. Oh Gryffindor, this is going to be good. My cousin steps right up to James and grabs at his mussed up shirt. "Here cuz let me help you out…you must've left Madame Pointer's in such a rush you forgot a few buttons…" Dom starts fixing James's shirt as the confident smile slips off his face.
"Oh I…err yea…thanks Dom…you know these blokes, probably forgot to tell me 'bout them just for a laugh," he chuckles hesitantly, combing a nervous hand through his raven hair and waving his other fist at the guys.
"Mhmmmm," croons the blonde soothingly as she pauses to look him over. "There, all done with the buttons. You're still looking a bit rumpled though, but that's nothing a simple Ironing Spell can't fix. We can't have your fans seeing you all disheveled can we?" She pulls out her wand and twirls it expectantly.
"Ah well, if you insist," agrees James, and looking around at us all his grin returns. I have to hand it to Dominique here, she's really playing this well. My cousin could prey on/cater to a person's insecurities on a Knut. It must be a damn good asset for her at work. He opens his hands invitingly and waits for the spell.
Dominique grins pleasantly and waves her wand at his gold and scarlet striped polo. But instead of the wrinkles disappearing, an odd thing happens. The shirt starts wriggling and constricting before our eyes, almost as if invisible snakes were wrapping around his torso.
"What the…" yelps James, his hazel eyes going wide with shock. My brother alertly grabs for his collar, but he can't get much of a grip as it's already pressed tight to his skin. As I watch, his short sleeves dig into his shoulders a bit and his face starts to turn bright red.
"Merlin Dom!" mutters Luce, a bit alarmed, "Don't hurt him." A bunch of my cousins starting muttering in agreement, but something has me holding my tongue. Dom wouldn't hurt Jimmy for real, especially not in public like this. She's probably just shaking him up a bit, in true Cursebreaker style nonetheless. I have to admit, if I was James, I'd probably being crapping myself already.
"C'mon Dom enough!" gasps my brother in a panic, as he tries to move his hand back to his pocket in search of his own wand. Unfortunately, he's too constricted to do much else than leave them at his sides. James's tone has a few people staring our way, but it's not like their right on top of us. The kid from the wind tunnel has apparently cleared off ages ago.
"S'alright everyone," says Dom loudly, stepping right up James once more, "My friend here insisted on trying on the small Gryffindor replica polo and it's just a wee bit tight. There, there relax mate, I'll get you out. I told you, you ought to cut back on the Fortescue specials!" She pats him playfully in the stomach and the people go back to their shopping.
"Dominique enough!" hisses Vic dangerously when it is all clear, "You've nearly caused a scene!"
Dom rolls her slate blue eyes. "Ugh, I thought you lot wanted answers! Look at him. He's a ruddy mess. Bed hair, hurriedly put on clothes, missing sock…clearly his important 'errand' was him going off for some secret shag! Who was she Jimmy, that winner of yours Lucia? Or a desperate fan broad?" she asks menacingly.
"I don't know what you mean…" James tries to splutter, going another deeper shade of red in the process. Dom reaches out and punches him flush in the arm. He winces predictably and shuts up.
"No!" says Dom, suddenly as serious as I've ever seen her, "This is the end of the line little cuz. The lying and man-whoring stop right now. We're all Gryffindor's here and your family, so you can't take the coward's way out with us a second longer. Now, what they haven't realized is I'm not really hurting you yet, but that can change real fast. I can squeeze a couple more breaths out of you before you pass out… just like you've been squeezing the joy out of this group with your shite. First it's that performance at breakfast and now you keep us all waiting over a conquest? For the last time, who is she?"
I almost feel bad for my 20-year-old brother. He's locked in what acts like a Half-Body Bind in the middle of QQS, while we all wait for him to finally hold himself accountable for his questionable actions. I said almost. He did have this reality check coming.
James looks around and suddenly bows his head. "Alright fine…" he whispers, so low I have to step forward a couple paces from the fringe of the group, "I'm shagging Cassie Vetter, seeker of the Kenmare Kestrels and… and daughter of English National Coach Hugh Vetter."
Just like that, our Quidditch star has left us in an unpredictable stunned silence. There are only a couple of us here who don't know that name off the top of our heads and James has sportingly filled in the context for those few. Damn. I was truly just expecting it to be some random devoted fan, but this is much worse. Or… is it better? I'm not actually sure.
See, Cassie Vetter is 24 years-old and no question an elite Seeker. She's even going to the World Cup Final on her father's team. She sounds like a catch huh? But, the thing of it is, her father's team…is our team. James is on the standby list for this team. If anyone gets hurt between now and the first whistle against Scotland, the country's going to be screaming for him. It appears that James is practically sleeping his way to the World Cup. At least that's what the public will think if it ever gets out.
Dom recovers from her shock first. The blonde snorts and shakes her head incredulously and then after a wave of her wand, my brother falls back onto the carpet in a heap. He rubs his throat and gives us all a sheepish look. Dom starts walking away without even a backwards glance in his direction. "Let's please just get out of here?" he implores us, as Freddy helps dutifully helps him to his feet, "We can talk about this later."
"You're damn right we will," says Al quietly, as he shares a look with me and follows after Dom. Soon, we're all moving to exit Quality Quidditch Supplies and before long it's like someone's turned the volume back on. The boys, except Albus and Ted are all pressing James for details and most of the girls are shooting judging looks there way. I just press forward, my eyes on Al and Dom's leading figures, ignoring attempts from Rox to catch my eye. Merlin, why isn't anything ever what it seems with this family?