Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Another chapter! How lovely. Harry's
experiencing the Wizarding world for the first time! To the
delightful reviewer, who so charmingly asked me when Hermione was
going to enter the story, I can only assume they have read the
original HP books, and should therefore already know when Hermione
will enter. This said, perhaps you should take interest in other
characters besides Hermione. I had no idea she had such a cult
following! I'm more a fan of Blaise Zabini – I'm too scared to
write one about him though, in case I wreck him for myself! Oh and
ps. This chapter was a little boring to write, I want him to hurry up
and get to Hogwarts! Should be on the train next chapter though.
White Water- I shall try and fulfil your request in the
future!
Thankyou to Jargon and Loatroll as well for their reviews! Made me smile!
After an impressive hole creating episode, which put Harry in mind of that time on Back to the future when…anyway, back to the point, they walked through a hole in a brick wall and appeared in a street Harry was sure it was physically impossible to fit in the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron.
'Diagon Alley!' Dumbledore exclaimed happily, and Harry, mishearing him, thought he said Diagonally and attempted to place himself at an angle diagonal to the floor. Needless to say, this was a failed venture, and Harry collapsed painfully onto the ground, his cloak defying the laws of gravity and drifting gently down after him.
'Ruddy cloak,' Harry grumbled, getting up and studiously avoiding eye contact with Dumbledore, who was looking at him strangely.
'Alright there Harry?' the old man questioned. Harry grunted in response, before setting off after Dumbledore into the bustling street. There were people everywhere, waving pickles animals in the air; some waving wands and creating large bangs, revealing coloured clouds of smoke, which drifted through the streets, occasionally merging with people, whose skin changed dramatically through a spectrum of colours, before ending in a distinctly unattractive shade of burgundy. Harry repressed a shudder, and vowed to avoid all clouds of smoke. He had no time to look closely at anything else however, as Dumbledore, despite his old age, appeared to possess an agility and speed that Harry himself struggled to keep up with.
Panting slightly, Harry put his head between his legs as they arrived outside a large, white, marble building. Definitely the first solid-looking structure Harry had ever seen. Finally catching his breath, Harry stood up, to find Dumbledore staring at him, eyes twinkling even more so then usual.
'I believe you Harry, are the rotten egg.' It took Harry approximately 32 seconds to figure out what Dumbledore was referring to (his short term memory being notoriously bad).
'Oh,' he finally exclaimed, having figured it out, 'this is Gringotts?' Dumbledore beamed, and clapped his hands excitedly.
'Oh Bravo Harry,' he said, in a manner which suggested Harry had just discovered a cure for Dragon Pox.
'Er, thanks,' Harry replied, feeling slightly belittled though unsure why, 'are we going inside?'
Dumbledore chose to answer this question by starting up the marble stairs, and Harry followed. He was once again, so busy trying to keep up with the old man, that he didn't even have time to read the pretty poem above the doorway. Scowling heavily at the missed opportunity, Harry took in the vaulted ceiling, and spacious entrance. Creatures at tellers sat against the walls, and Harry did a double, triple and quadruple take, before figuring out that they were goblins.
'Cool,' he said appreciatively, his mind immediately taking him on a dungeons and dragons type fantasy where he flew around on a Pegasus blasting Goblins left, right and centre. Then he seemed to realise that he was in some sort of bank, evidently run by the goblins, and his fantasies disintegrated in a pile of ash.
'Why are we here?' Harry asked Dumbledore, as the man made his way towards a teller.
'You need to get some money Harry, and I, need to pick something up.' Harry vaguely remembered something about a key, and so didn't press the subject. Banks were so boring, Harry hated them. He only hoped they wouldn't be too long. Even though there were Goblins here, it was highly unlikely that this transaction would be any more interesting then normal banks.
Fifteen minutes, and a rollercoaster ride later, Harry had completely revised his opinion of Gringotts. It was the best bank he'd ever been to. Dumbledore, and their Goblin Guide Griphook (affectionately nicknamed 'Triple G' by Harry), had been somewhat surprised by Harry's reaction to the brake-neck speed and sharp turns of the ride to his vault. He'd thrown his hands up in the air and started yelling something about a rollercoaster and both aged-wizard and goblin had found it strangely disconcerting. The cart came to a stop outside the Potter vault, and Harry leapt out,
'That was awesome Triple G!' Griphook frowned at the total mutilation of his name, but said nothing, instead walking forward to open the vault with a tiny golden key Dumbledore had presented him with, while Harry leapt around, examining the other vault doors that stretched out in a long line next to his own.
'I wouldn't touch them Harry,' Dumbledore cautioned, and Harry drew back his hand from where he was about to run a finger over a delicate looking engraving. Then his own vault door opened, and Harry was shocked into stillness.
'Wow,' he finally managed, as piles and piles of shiny coins glittered back at him, 'that is…a lot.'
'Yes Harry, your parents were quite wealthy at the time of their death. Now, it has all been left to you.' Dumbledore smiled beguilingly, but Harry hardly saw him, at the sight of all this money, thousands of possibilities had raced through his head. At the forefront of his mind was a palace, made entirely out of marzipan and ice cream, Harry's stomach grumbled at the thought, and it took Dumbledore shaking him roughly by the arm to jolt him out of his fantasy.
'Sorry sir, got a bit carried away there,' Harry mumbled as he scooped coins into the large bag the man had offered him.
Back out in the fresh air, Dumbledore pulled out a list of parchment, which on closer inspection, was revealed to contain the list of first year books. Marching off, Harry was once again forced to practically run after him, trying to make it look like he wasn't actually running, Harry ended up skipping, his large hop-steps drawing surprised looks from passer-bys.
Books, potion ingredients, cauldrons, a pet owl later and a wand later (that scenario had been slightly disturbing, Harry having found out his wand was distantly related to Voldemort's – family reunions would be a bitch), Harry and Dumbledore were heading towards Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions, where he would get the black robes which constituted the Hogwarts uniform. Harry, having taken quite a fancy to the cloak he was wearing, had also vowed to buy some more of them. After all, he could most definitely afford it. The door made a loud tinkling noise as they entered, and a cloud of perfumed smoke issued from the door knob. Harry, remembering his initial experiences with said smoke, immediately dodged out of the way. Dumbledore was not as quick though, and his robes immediately disintegrated, falling to his feet in a shower of dusty particles. Harry blanched, and hid his face in his hands, while Dumbledore calmly took in his new attire.
'How fortune I have just entered a robe shop,' the man commented dryly, before conjuring himself a lurid bright purple robe pattered with yellow stars.
While all this had taken place, a woman had come into the front room. She was middle-aged and stately looking and Harry guessed at a glance that this was Madame Malkin.
'Hogwarts dear?' she asked distractedly, batting away a manic looking tape measure which seemed to be forming a noose around her neck.
'Hello there Professor Dumbledore,' she said warmly, having only just spied him, 'finally succumbed to the urge to actually purchase a pair of robes?' She raised her wand warningly, and the tape measure recoiled, slinking back under the front desk, with an air of someone settling in for a good sulk. Dumbledore smiled at the witch, conjuring a frayed and tattered rope, tying it around his waist with a flourish.
'No no, just taking young Harry to get his school robes, nothing beats home made clothes.' Madam Malkin shook her head, before turning her attention to Harry, her eyes performed the familiar flick to his forehead, before her mouth dropped open in a comical 'O' of surprise,
'Well, if it isn't Harry Potter,' she breathed, before snapping out of herself and ushering him into the next room, placing him upon a pedestal (Harry smirked at the irony), and summoning the sulking measuring tape, who began reluctantly taking his measurements.
Finding the concept of a measuring tape sulking a little too strange to handle at the present time (which was strange when considering Harry's past company had included a sexually frustrated cupboard and a demented mirror), Harry turned his attention to the other occupants of the room. Aside from Madam Malkin and himself (Dumbledore had gone to retrieve his parcel from Gringotts – Harry hadn't understood why he couldn't have done it while they were initially there), there was only one other person. A blonde haired boy, who looked about Harry's age was standing deadly still, a half-pinned robe adorning his person.
As if sensing Harry's eyes on him, the boy turned and Green eyes met grey, the blonde gazing coolly at him, before opening his mouth to speak,
'Are you new to Hogwarts this year, my name's Draco Malfoy? I'm just getting my robes done; it's taking an inanely long time.' The boy rolled his eyes, expectantly looking to Harry, no doubt for a charming echo of his previous sentiments. Harry refrained from pointing out that it was rather obvious what the boy was doing here, he didn't want to make enemies before he even got to school, he'd had enough going to school with Dudley. Harry smiled fondly in memory of the time he'd 'accidently' let the class tarantula out of its cage and into the hair of the girl Dudley fancied (in the sense that he would occasionally put mud down her pants). Smiling cheerfully at Draco Harry nodded in affirmation of what the boy had said,
'Yeah, you'd reckon they'd be quicker, what using magic and all. Nice to meet you, I'm Harry Potter.'
Whatever scathing retort Draco had been going to make about Harry's apparent ignorance about magic died on his tongue as soon as Harry introduced himself. He seemed in Harry's opinion, like he had just been his by a bolt of lightning. His eyes had brightened and his carefully slicked back hair looked a little less – slicked. Yes, Harry had a way with description. Laughing at his own internal joke (something he did quite often), Harry was jolted back to the present by Draco speaking again,
'Harry Potter?' Draco was interested; there was no doubt about it. 'It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.' Draco smiled and most probably would have extended a hand for Harry to shake, except for the fact that he was covered in pins and it would no doubt have been a very painful experience. Harry was saved from having to respond by Madam Malkin bustling in and handing him a bag of clothes.
'There you go Mr Potter, that'll be 42 Galleons.' Harry paid and left, waving goodbye to Draco, his hand neatly snapping from side-to-side, in imitation of the Queen's wave.
Dumbledore was waiting outside the shop smoking a pipe. Something which Harry found incredibly strange, not least of all due to the fact that Dumbledore's pipe was shaped like a child's bootie. He wisely chose not to comment. Dumbledore waved cheerily, expelling large amounts of lurid green smoke as he did so. Harry was so preoccupied with Dumbledore's new smoking habit, he forgot to dodge, and was immediately covered by the smoke. He had just time to utter one single expletive, before the world tipped itself upside down. Harry shut his eyes.
When he opened them, he was looking directly into Dumbledore's crotch. With a shriek, he tried to run away, only to crash into the sign hanging from a pole outside Madam Malkin's. There was only one strange thing about this; the sign was at least six foot into the air. Harry shrieked again, as the realisation that he was walking upside down on what was clearly thin air, yet his body seemed convinced it was the ground. While Harry had been shrieking and careening into signs, Dumbledore had wandered over, still smoking his bootie-pipe.
'Ah yes,' he said intelligently, and Harry ceased his shrieks, 'it seems as if the smoke has polarised the gravitational force. You are in effect, for the moment, anti-gravitised.'
Harry stared at him in silence, shocked.
'How long will I be like this for?!' he cried, upon regaining the power of speech.
'I'm not quite sure,' Dumbledore responded, 'at a guess I would suggest no more then twenty-four hours.'
'Twenty-four hours?!'
'Ah yes Harry, your hearing is excellent!' Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, and Harry was seized with the urge to ram his bootie-pipe up his – anyway Harry, back to the issue at hand.
'How will I cope until then?' Harry asked frustrated at the man's seeming lack of caring.
'You'll be fine on the train tomorrow, though until then I suspect you'll have to go back to the Leaky Cauldron and remain in your room, until I send someone to put you on the train tomorrow.' Dumbledore continued smiling, but Harry was not fooled – crafty man! it was clearly a tactic to make sure Harry didn't wander around tonight. Bollocks. Foiled again, Harry thought to himself, conveniently forgetting that in order to be 'foiled again'; he needed to be foiled a first time.
'Let's get you back to the Leaky Cauldron,' Dumbledore was saying, and Harry was forced to obey. Mainly because Dumbledore had conjured and fastened a dog lead around his neck – it being the closest part of him to the man. Harry couldn't help but feel slightly belittled, as he was led through Diagon Alley, people stopped to stare, and Harry took comfort in the fact that him being upside down would probably stop people figuring out who he was.
They arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron and Dumbledore led Harry up to his room, before removing the lead, bidding Harry farewell and shutting the door. Harry was left to his own, upside down self. Walking across the ceiling, Harry spied a note lying on his bed, squinting, Harry found he was just able to discern the words,
Harry, please hang my cloak in the cupboard. – Tom.
Crap. The cupboard. Harry groaned in frustration, before removing the cloak. Oh well, may as well get it over with.
Walking upside down into a cupboard was not an easy experience, but Harry owed Tom for the fainting incident, so he was going to hang up that cloak. He was only halfway in, when the cupboard, perhaps acting on some very sensitive Harry radar, spoke up,
'Ah, what's this then, a new position? I don't mind, just so long as you're in me!' Harry groaned, but wisely did not respond, not that he had much energy to, it was very hard to walk on the ceiling, namely because there were lots of bars and coat hangers. Harry tripped over a bunch, and they jingled noisily. The cupboard emitted a loud moan,
'Oh baby, that feels good.'
This was entirely too much for Harry. He squeaked loudly, threw the cloak on the nearest coat hanger and fled, slamming the cupboard door behind him with a loud bang. Pulling the bed clothes off the bed and onto the makeshift one he had created on the roof, Harry wrapped himself up and vowed not to come out before morning.
