"Right, I've got to go to Madam Malkin's for a new fitting," Marlene announced. "I've slimmed down a little this summer, so I'll be needing a smaller skirt."
"Anyone else need a new uniform?" Lily asked the others.
"No, not really," Mary said. "Though I'd like see if she's got any new dress robes, so I'll come with you, Mar."
"I've broken my quill and I seem to have lost the new bottle of ink I had," Alice said, glancing at a list written on a bit of parchment. "Also, I need owl snacks."
"Good thinking. I need cat food," Lily noted. "So we'll go to Magical Menagerie, yeah?"
"Well, I wanted to get Colour-Change Ink at Scribbulus Writing Implements," Frank said. "Shall I get your stuff too, Alice?"
"Bridget, you want to come along with us?" Lily offered as Alice handed Frank her list.
Bridget was about to agree (she wanted to pet a few of the Puffskeins sold at the Menagerie), but stopped short. This, she realised, was the opportunity she'd been waiting for; the perfect moment to sneak off to Borgin and Burkes without raising any suspicion.
"No, actually," she said.
"Yeah, I know, smells bad in there," Marlene cut in. "Come along with us, we'll pick you something out too."
"Thanks, but my uniform still fits, and anyway I need ..." She said the first thing that came to mind. "Scales. So I'll just head off to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment."
"Yeah, all right," Marlene replied, already starting to pull Mary away. "As my friends in France say, we'll rendez-vous at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour!"
So each group set off in opposite directions, quickly dispersing in the crowd. Bridget started for the magical equipment store, but then made a quick left and hurried to a less reputable area.
The chipped and peeling sign reading 'Knockturn Alley' greeted her, and she ducked her head as she entered the ominously darker street. The shops there were not so much fascinating as they were disturbing, with items on display ranging from mildly terrifying to downright revolting (some of which included actual human body parts). The shoppers seemed to change with the street; their expressions gloomier, appearances slightly more sinister. The atmosphere was certainly not a cheery one, and Bridget – listing this as the creepiest place she had ever been – decided, then and there, never to visit again. Passing a woman with an exceptionally nasty scowl (but a very tasteful robe), Bridget finally arrived at her destination.
Borgin and Burkes was no more inviting than the rest of the shops, painted a deep dark green, like poison. But given that there were no spleens encased in jars in the shop window, she decided it could have been worse, and pushed the door open. Upon entering, she was nearly decapitated by sharp, rust-covered instruments hanging from the ceiling.
"Watch it!" a voice yelled as Bridget dodged a cleaver swinging her way. "Those are antiques!"
"Sorry!" Bridget immediately said, although she wasn't sure why she was the one apologising for nearly getting her head cut off.
"Agh, I'll have to move them." Her eyes finally settled on the man speaking in the dimly lit shop. "Fourth customer this week. Count yourself lucky, young missy! The last one got his nose hacked off!"
"Encouraging start," Bridget thought to herself as she walked up to the counter. "Are you Mr Borgin?" she asked.
"I am," the shopkeeper replied. "What'll it be?"
"I'm here to pick up an order," she said, looking at a few items through the glass counter top.
They were seemingly ordinary things (disregarding the one rodent skull); a telescope, a pack of cards, and gold-rimmed circular glasses. Bridget wondered what kind of Dark Magic each possessed.
"Do you have anything for Mr Durant?" she inquired.
"Now look here, you think I give my customers' orders out willy-nilly?" Borgin demanded crossly. "I'll need some confirmation that Mr Durant really sent you."
She hadn't thought of that.
"I'm his daughter!"
"Yeah, nice try," Borgin snorted and stepped away from the register. "Go on, out with you!"
He shoved her in the back and began escorting her to the door.
"I'm serious!" Bridget insisted as she pressed her heels against the hardwood floor, making it harder for Borgin to push her further. "Didn't he tell you he was sending me?"
"Must've conveniently slipped his mind!" Borgin grunted, kicking her feet forward.
She couldn't believe she was about to fail. All she had to do was get one package! And she couldn't even do that. Her dad had been so proud of her, giving her the family ring, entrusting her with—
Oh, she was so bloody thick.
"Wait! Wait!" Bridget cried, pulling the ring off her hand. "Can't you stop for a minute?!"
Borgin obliged reluctantly and demanded, "What now?"
Bridget held up the heirloom in triumph. "That is my family's ring! Same as the one you've been working on! It's got our crest and everything. See?"
Borgin scrutinised the band she presented in her palm. "Mind if I examine it?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" she groaned. "Fine, go ahead! Knock yourself out."
Pulling out a pair of pince-nez and settling them on his crooked nose, Borgin narrowed his eyes and peered through the lenses. After tapping his wand twice against the ring, he seemed satisfied.
"Everything seems in order, Miss," he said, handing her the ring back.
Bridget noted the change in his demeanour peevishly, the new-found humility and slight bow of his head replacing his suspicion and animosity.
"Sorry for the trouble," Borgin went on. "But you can see how I couldn't just give you your father's order without proof."
Well, she supposed she could understand. "Yeah, no worries," she replied as he disappeared in the back of the shop.
"Here we are!" he announced, opening up a box identical to the one her own ring had been in. "Good as new, and the enhancement works perfectly!"
Bridget looked up dubiously. "You sure?"
"Yes, the secret compartment is completely untraceable, as is anything that should be inside it," Borgin assured her.
"Right, thank you," Bridget said and pulled out her bag of Galleons.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Durant." Borgin gave her a obsequious smile.
As she exited the shop and started down the street, she took out her brother's ring and began fiddling with it. She put it on her finger and it shrank to her size. Just to be sure, she tried pushing the head of the ring where the crest was engraved. It didn't budge.
She brought it closer and softly murmured her family motto. "Dura et triumpha."
The head of the ring suddenly popped up and proved to be hinged, opening like a tiny hatch. It revealed a slim cavity that stretched into darkness, much deeper than it should have been possible. Bridget carefully prodded her finger inside, finding that she could fit the tip of it in. She smiled. So the password and the Extension Charm worked.
Not properly looking where she was going, she suddenly collided with something for the second time that day.
"Oi, watch it – Blimey, it's you, Bridget!"
Quickly shoving the ring into her pocket, Bridget looked up to the supposed acquaintance. Striking grey eyes greeted her, and a mischievous grin that had gotten her into far too much trouble as a child grew even wider as the person it belonged to held out a hand.
"Oh, sorry! I didn't even recognise you, not having seen you in so long," Bridget teased, taking the offered hand.
Sirius Black stood in front of her in all his annoyingly-handsome glory, trying (and failing) to look innocent. "Yeah, sorry I haven't been in touch. It slipped my mind, to tell you the truth, what with all that James and I were up to."
Bridget dismissed it with a laugh. "Well, since you were having fun, I guess I can forgive you." She gave him a sympathetic look. "And how are things at home?"
Sirius shrugged, looking away. "Standard," he said. "Gets a bit worse every year. Thinking about leaving, honestly."
He said it nonchalantly, as if bored. But Bridget could tell from the way he didn't meet her eyes that it bothered him, even if only a little. She decided not to press the subject further.
"So how was your summer with the Potters?" she asked instead. "You went to their place near the seaside, yeah?"
"It was brilliant," Sirius said smugly. "James' parents let us do whatever we wanted – But hang on, we'll catch up in a minute. I want to know what you're doing in Knockturn Alley."
Bridget froze for a moment, having had completely forgotten where they were. "I... got lost."
"The big sign at the beginning of the street didn't give you any help?"
"Har har, you're so witty."
"I do my best."
Bridget crossed her arms. "And what are you doing here?"
"I've got nothing to hide, mate," Sirius said, putting his hands out as if to prove his point. "I was here to buy a neat little box with a particularly entertaining hex." He pulled out the aforementioned object and brandished it in front of her.
"By hex, you mean curse?"
"Well, nothing overly harmful," he conceded with a shrug. "Just for a special few back at Hogwarts."
"Are the others here too?" Bridget asked.
"Of course. Peter saw a few shrunken heads in a shop window and got sick. James and Remus took him to the Leaky Cauldron to calm down." Bridget grimaced in sympathy as he went on, "And are the girls here?"
"Yeah, all of us. Oh, plus Frank," she said. "I'm on my way to the Leaky Cauldron actually. We're meeting there."
"Well, I've gotten all I came here for," Sirius said. "Lead the way, then."
The two walked out of the dark alley, and re-entered the other more colourful street. They passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, with both of them stopping to glance at the new broomstick levitating in the shop window, its ridiculous price advertised in bright gilded letters beside it.
"You get a chance to play any Quidditch?" Sirius asked as their eyes traced the broom's handle. "Over the summer, I mean."
Bridget shook her head as she narrowed her eyes at the offending price tag. "You know Lily's not too fond of Quidditch. We did loads of other fun stuff, though. You ever been to see a Muggle film?"
"Once or twice with James to see what it was all about." Sirius huffed a short laugh. "I forgot you spent the summer with Lily."
"Yeah, I've been staying at her house for three weeks," Bridget said. "You wanna go in? Have a quick look around?" She stuck a thumb out in the direction of the shop entrance.
He nodded and held the door open for her. "So, your parents are all right with you staying at a Muggle house?" he asked as they looked at a few displayed Quidditch robes.
Bridget gave him a wry look. "They're not over the moon obviously. But Mum's okay with it. You know she's always been more liberal. Dad's slightly less so, but I assume he allows it as long as I don't go around London professing my love for wizard-Muggle equality." She snorted, picking up a Quaffle and tossing it between her hands. "It's ridiculous, really. As if the prejudice against them is justified."
"So they support Voldemort, then?"
The blunt way he asked – coupled with You-Know-Who's name – actually startled her.
"Don't say that!" she said in an angry hiss.
"What? 'Voldemort' or that they support him?" Sirius asked, completely at ease with saying that word aloud.
"Both!" She dragged him away from a couple watching them dubiously.
"What, are you scared of the name too?" he laughed, if mockingly or endearingly, she couldn't tell at the moment.
Slightly irate, she ignored him and instead grabbed a Quidditch magazine off of a nearby rack. She began listing through it, hoping that he understood the discussion was over.
"Just sounds to me," Sirius went on, apparently oblivious, "that your dad thinks along the same lines as Death Eaters, is all. I mean, from what I know about him."
Bridget spun around and glared up at him (he was a good few centimetres taller, and it fuelled her anger). "I'm not going to talk about this now. Here, of all places." She made sure to channel her irritation into her tone. "And, no. My parents don't support him."
Then, with a sense of finality, she turned her back to him, looked down at the magazine in her hands, and didn't say another word.
"Bridget?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder to see what was so interesting. "Oi, are you mad at me?"
No response.
"C'mon, Bridge, talk to me." If he thought using the nickname would help, he had better think again.
Determinedly ignoring his calls, she kept on reading until he took the magazine out of her hands – a shame, because she was just getting to an interesting quiz, 'So You Think You Know Quidditch?'
"What, is it something I said –" he began.
"Funnily enough," she interrupted him, snatching the magazine back, "the fact that you keep suggesting my parents support a manic mass-murderer somewhat offends me."
Sirius' expression softened, his lips forming a slight 'o' shape as he realised what he did wrong.
"Mate, look, I'm sorry," he said.
Bridget gave him one more glare for good measure. "'S all right," she said grudgingly, turning to put back the magazine. "I know you didn't mean it."
"No, listen." He pulled her around to face him fully. "I didn't think – I meant –" He stopped himself with a groan. "I didn't think you'd mind –"
"Didn't think I'd mind –"
"Not like that! I – just listen," Sirius said firmly. "I misspoke, alright? I'm so used to criticising my own parents for their beliefs that I forgot you didn't feel the same – about your parents, I mean, not their beliefs," he added quickly, seeing her open her mouth to argue again. "I'm sorry for accusing your dad, really, I am. I said it thoughtlessly. S'pose I forgot it could sound rotten to someone who actually likes their parents."
Bridget couldn't help the snort that escaped her. "Yeah, well..."
"I didn't mean to upset you," he insisted. "Promise."
Her smile widened, now turning apologetic. "I know you didn't."
She hadn't realised he'd been holding her hand until he cleared his throat and let it go.
"So we're good, then?" he clarified.
"'Course."
"Good, 'cause I think we better get going and meet the others."
When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, they found it filled with more customers than it had been earlier. Lunch hour had arrived, and the pub was serving several cheerful groups of witches and wizards, all gathered around wooden tables. The clinking of bottles and plates, and the buzz of lively chatter floated from all corners, giving the pub a certain cosiness.
As they stepped in from the chilly courtyard, a voice cried out to them, "Oi, Sirius!"
Bridget and Sirius both looked to where two arms were sticking out of the crowd, waving and gesticulating. James Potter's grinning face appeared momentarily when the wizard sitting at the table in front of him shifted due to swinging his mug around emphatically (and spilling its contents in the process) as he spoke to his companion jovially.
"Took you long enough," James said as they drew nearer. "I assume you're the reason he's late?"
"Guilty," Bridget admitted and accepted his hug. She smiled over James' shoulder to the boy next to him. "Hello, Remus. Nice tan."
"Yeah, I joined these two at the beach for a few days," Remus said. "My mum thought it'd do me good."
"She's doing okay now, yeah?" Bridget asked, giving a wave to Peter, who smiled back. "Hi, Peter."
"She's fine, thanks," Remus assured her (though, curiously, looked down and rubbed the back of his neck).
"Oh, James." Sirius elbowed his best friend. "She's been at Lily's for half the summer."
"Really?" James raised a sly eyebrow, lacing his fingers in front of him. "And how is dear Evans? Has she mentioned me?"
"Well, she'll be coming here any minute, so you can ask her yourself, you bloody five-year-old," Bridget said. "Hang on, I'm going to get myself a Butterbeer."
"Don't be ridiculous," James cut in. "You're surrounded by four gentlemen. Peter, go and get one, will you?"
"I've got two legs myself," Bridget insisted as Sirius pulled her back down.
"Nah, 's all right, I'm going," Peter said.
"Thanks, Peter," Bridget added as he passed her. "So, go on. Tell me all the things you've been up to. I bet you two are especially excited to gloat." She grinned at James and Sirius.
"Well, we did do a few brilliant things," Sirius admitted with a grin that suggested they were anything but 'few'.
The two of them took turns narrating their adventures, with Remus supplying helpful comments and thinly-veiled sarcastic remarks. One story that was particularly interesting was about a broken-down Muggle motorcycle they had found and were currently trying to fix up with magic. So far, they'd managed to blow up the exhaust pipe twice and make the engine roar so loudly it popped eardrums. But Sirius was confident they could get it to work – "We're two very exceptional wizards," he said (very self-assuredly, it might be added). "We'll get it right soon enough." He even hoped to make it fly eventually.
It was around this time that the rest of their friends began arriving. Frank showed up first, claiming that the reason it took him ages to come was because he went looking for Bridget at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment (Sirius laughed while Bridget coughed and muttered about getting lost). Then came Marlene and Mary, a bag in each one's hand and very satisfied smiles on their faces. The last were Alice and Lily, the former waving excitedly and the latter giving an outright groan. Nevertheless, she plastered on a polite smile when greeting James.
"Potter." She addressed him last. At least she was trying to get along for the time being.
"Have a nice summer, Evans?" James wanted to know with a grin.
"Very nice, up until this moment."
Bridget always found it amusing how Lily was the most kind-hearted person she knew, and yet, when faced with James, all her sense of civility was abandoned.
"I was meaning to ask you, Lily," Remus said before James could open his mouth again. "Did you get the prefect badge?"
"'Course she did!" Marlene couldn't help exclaiming. "Who else would it've been?"
"I did," Lily said, smiling big. "And the boy's badge? It's you, yeah?" she asked hopefully.
Remus nodded with a laugh.
"We're all very proud," James interjected.
"Didn't expect it, actually," Remus admitted with a grin to his friends.
"Yeah, well, the rest of us did," Sirius said.
"You were always the good one among this lot," Frank said teasingly, quirking his eyebrows at James and Sirius.
"Us?" James inquired innocently, with a hand to his chest.
Sirius even feigned a gasp. "I'll have you know, we're always trying to be on our very best behaviour."
"'Trying' being the key word," Mary stage-whispered.
Laughter followed and there were collective demands for lunch to be ordered. Later, while passing around each other's meals, the topics of discussion hopped from recent summer anecdotes to the excitement of their return to school. They laughed loudly at jokes (mostly told by James), and slapped away hands trying to steal their chips (mostly attempted by Sirius). Alice and Frank were cajoled into sharing the details of their holiday together, and Remus was forced to retell an embarrassing story about a girl at the beach he was urged into talking to by James and Sirius.
Another round of Butterbeers arrived, and James raised his bottle. "A toast to –" He lowered his arm as he faltered. "Hang on, what are we toasting to?"
"Never being serious," Sirius said. "'S my motto, you know."
"Bit ironic when applied to you," Bridget noted.
"How about to another year at Hogwarts?" Alice offered.
"Yeah, the most stressful," Marlene said. "What with the O.W.L.s coming up."
James raised his bottle once more. "All right, yeah. To another distressing year at Hogwarts!" He paused for a split second. "And to never being serious," he added quickly, the afterthought greeted with laughs and cheers. "Right, I've got to go to Madam Malkin's for a new fitting," Marlene announced. "I've slimmed down a little this summer, so I'll be needing a smaller skirt."
"Anyone else need a new uniform?" Lily asked the others.
"No, not really," Mary said. "Though I'd like see if she's got any new dress robes, so I'll come with you, Mar."
"I've broken my quill and I seem to have lost the new bottle of ink I had," Alice said, glancing at a list written on a bit of parchment. "Also, I need owl snacks."
"Good thinking. I need cat food," Lily noted. "So we'll go to Magical Menagerie, yeah?"
"Well, I wanted to get Colour-Change Ink at Scribbulus Writing Implements," Frank said. "Shall I get your stuff too, Alice?"
"Bridget, you want to come along with us?" Lily offered as Alice handed Frank her list.
Bridget was about to agree (she wanted to pet a few of the Puffskeins sold at the Menagerie), but stopped short. This, she realised, was the opportunity she'd been waiting for; the perfect moment to sneak off to Borgin and Burkes without raising any suspicion.
"No, actually," she said.
"Yeah, I know, smells bad in there," Marlene cut in. "Come along with us, we'll pick you something out too."
"Thanks, but my uniform still fits, and anyway I need ..." She said the first thing that came to mind. "Scales. So I'll just head off to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment."
"Yeah, all right," Marlene replied, already starting to pull Mary away. "As my friends in France say, we'll rendez-vous at the Leaky Cauldron in an hour!"
So each group set off in opposite directions, quickly dispersing in the crowd. Bridget started for the magical equipment store, but then made a quick left and hurried to a less reputable area.
The chipped and peeling sign reading 'Knockturn Alley' greeted her, and she ducked her head as she entered the ominously darker street. The shops there were not so much fascinating as they were disturbing, with items on display ranging from mildly terrifying to downright revolting (some of which included actual human body parts). The shoppers seemed to change with the street; their expressions gloomier, appearances slightly more sinister. The atmosphere was certainly not a cheery one, and Bridget – listing this as the creepiest place she had ever been – decided, then and there, never to visit again. Passing a woman with an exceptionally nasty scowl (but a very tasteful robe), Bridget finally arrived at her destination.
Borgin and Burkes was no more inviting than the rest of the shops, painted a deep dark green, like poison. But given that there were no spleens encased in jars in the shop window, she decided it could have been worse, and pushed the door open. Upon entering, she was nearly decapitated by sharp, rust-covered instruments hanging from the ceiling.
"Watch it!" a voice yelled as Bridget dodged a cleaver swinging her way. "Those are antiques!"
"Sorry!" Bridget immediately said, although she wasn't sure why she was the one apologising for nearly getting her head cut off.
"Agh, I'll have to move them." Her eyes finally settled on the man speaking in the dimly lit shop. "Fourth customer this week. Count yourself lucky, young missy! The last one got his nose hacked off!"
"Encouraging start," Bridget thought to herself as she walked up to the counter. "Are you Mr Borgin?" she asked.
"I am," the shopkeeper replied. "What'll it be?"
"I'm here to pick up an order," she said, looking at a few items through the glass counter top.
They were seemingly ordinary things (disregarding the one rodent skull); a telescope, a pack of cards, and gold-rimmed circular glasses. Bridget wondered what kind of Dark Magic each possessed.
"Do you have anything for Mr Durant?" she inquired.
"Now look here, you think I give my customers' orders out willy-nilly?" Borgin demanded crossly. "I'll need some confirmation that Mr Durant really sent you."
She hadn't thought of that.
"I'm his daughter!"
"Yeah, nice try," Borgin snorted and stepped away from the register. "Go on, out with you!"
He shoved her in the back and began escorting her to the door.
"I'm serious!" Bridget insisted as she pressed her heels against the hardwood floor, making it harder for Borgin to push her further. "Didn't he tell you he was sending me?"
"Must've conveniently slipped his mind!" Borgin grunted, kicking her feet forward.
She couldn't believe she was about to fail. All she had to do was get one package! And she couldn't even do that. Her dad had been so proud of her, giving her the family ring, entrusting her with—
Oh, she was so bloody thick.
"Wait! Wait!" Bridget cried, pulling the ring off her hand. "Can't you stop for a minute?!"
Borgin obliged reluctantly and demanded, "What now?"
Bridget held up the heirloom in triumph. "That is my family's ring! Same as the one you've been working on! It's got our crest and everything. See?"
Borgin scrutinised the band she presented in her palm. "Mind if I examine it?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" she groaned. "Fine, go ahead! Knock yourself out."
Pulling out a pair of pince-nez and settling them on his crooked nose, Borgin narrowed his eyes and peered through the lenses. After tapping his wand twice against the ring, he seemed satisfied.
"Everything seems in order, Miss," he said, handing her the ring back.
Bridget noted the change in his demeanour peevishly, the new-found humility and slight bow of his head replacing his suspicion and animosity.
"Sorry for the trouble," Borgin went on. "But you can see how I couldn't just give you your father's order without proof."
Well, she supposed she could understand. "Yeah, no worries," she replied as he disappeared in the back of the shop.
"Here we are!" he announced, opening up a box identical to the one her own ring had been in. "Good as new, and the enhancement works perfectly!"
Bridget looked up dubiously. "You sure?"
"Yes, the secret compartment is completely untraceable, as is anything that should be inside it," Borgin assured her.
"Right, thank you," Bridget said and pulled out her bag of Galleons.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Durant." Borgin gave her a obsequious smile.
As she exited the shop and started down the street, she took out her brother's ring and began fiddling with it. She put it on her finger and it shrank to her size. Just to be sure, she tried pushing the head of the ring where the crest was engraved. It didn't budge.
She brought it closer and softly murmured her family motto. "Dura et triumpha."
The head of the ring suddenly popped up and proved to be hinged, opening like a tiny hatch. It revealed a slim cavity that stretched into darkness, much deeper than it should have been possible. Bridget carefully prodded her finger inside, finding that she could fit the tip of it in. She smiled. So the password and the Extension Charm worked.
Not properly looking where she was going, she suddenly collided with something for the second time that day.
"Oi, watch it – Blimey, it's you, Bridget!"
Quickly shoving the ring into her pocket, Bridget looked up to the supposed acquaintance. Striking grey eyes greeted her, and a mischievous grin that had gotten her into far too much trouble as a child grew even wider as the person it belonged to held out a hand.
"Oh, sorry! I didn't even recognise you, not having seen you in so long," Bridget teased, taking the offered hand.
Sirius Black stood in front of her in all his annoyingly-handsome glory, trying (and failing) to look innocent. "Yeah, sorry I haven't been in touch. It slipped my mind, to tell you the truth, what with all that James and I were up to."
Bridget dismissed it with a laugh. "Well, since you were having fun, I guess I can forgive you." She gave him a sympathetic look. "And how are things at home?"
Sirius shrugged, looking away. "Standard," he said. "Gets a bit worse every year. Thinking about leaving, honestly."
He said it nonchalantly, as if bored. But Bridget could tell from the way he didn't meet her eyes that it bothered him, even if only a little. She decided not to press the subject further.
"So how was your summer with the Potters?" she asked instead. "You went to their place near the seaside, yeah?"
"It was brilliant," Sirius said smugly. "James' parents let us do whatever we wanted – But hang on, we'll catch up in a minute. I want to know what you're doing in Knockturn Alley."
Bridget froze for a moment, having had completely forgotten where they were. "I... got lost."
"The big sign at the beginning of the street didn't give you any help?"
"Har har, you're so witty."
"I do my best."
Bridget crossed her arms. "And what are you doing here?"
"I've got nothing to hide, mate," Sirius said, putting his hands out as if to prove his point. "I was here to buy a neat little box with a particularly entertaining hex." He pulled out the aforementioned object and brandished it in front of her.
"By hex, you mean curse?"
"Well, nothing overly harmful," he conceded with a shrug. "Just for a special few back at Hogwarts."
"Are the others here too?" Bridget asked.
"Of course. Peter saw a few shrunken heads in a shop window and got sick. James and Remus took him to the Leaky Cauldron to calm down." Bridget grimaced in sympathy as he went on, "And are the girls here?"
"Yeah, all of us. Oh, plus Frank," she said. "I'm on my way to the Leaky Cauldron actually. We're meeting there."
"Well, I've gotten all I came here for," Sirius said. "Lead the way, then."
The two walked out of the dark alley, and re-entered the other more colourful street. They passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, with both of them stopping to glance at the new broomstick levitating in the shop window, its ridiculous price advertised in bright gilded letters beside it.
"You get a chance to play any Quidditch?" Sirius asked as their eyes traced the broom's handle. "Over the summer, I mean."
Bridget shook her head as she narrowed her eyes at the offending price tag. "You know Lily's not too fond of Quidditch. We did loads of other fun stuff, though. You ever been to see a Muggle film?"
"Once or twice with James to see what it was all about." Sirius huffed a short laugh. "I forgot you spent the summer with Lily."
"Yeah, I've been staying at her house for three weeks," Bridget said. "You wanna go in? Have a quick look around?" She stuck a thumb out in the direction of the shop entrance.
He nodded and held the door open for her. "So, your parents are all right with you staying at a Muggle house?" he asked as they looked at a few displayed Quidditch robes.
Bridget gave him a wry look. "They're not over the moon obviously. But Mum's okay with it. You know she's always been more liberal. Dad's slightly less so, but I assume he allows it as long as I don't go around London professing my love for wizard-Muggle equality." She snorted, picking up a Quaffle and tossing it between her hands. "It's ridiculous, really. As if the prejudice against them is justified."
"So they support Voldemort, then?"
The blunt way he asked – coupled with You-Know-Who's name – actually startled her.
"Don't say that!" she said in an angry hiss.
"What? 'Voldemort' or that they support him?" Sirius asked, completely at ease with saying that word aloud.
"Both!" She dragged him away from a couple watching them dubiously.
"What, are you scared of the name too?" he laughed, if mockingly or endearingly, she couldn't tell at the moment.
Slightly irate, she ignored him and instead grabbed a Quidditch magazine off of a nearby rack. She began listing through it, hoping that he understood the discussion was over.
"Just sounds to me," Sirius went on, apparently oblivious, "that your dad thinks along the same lines as Death Eaters, is all. I mean, from what I know about him."
Bridget spun around and glared up at him (he was a good few centimetres taller, and it fuelled her anger). "I'm not going to talk about this now. Here, of all places." She made sure to channel her irritation into her tone. "And, no. My parents don't support him."
Then, with a sense of finality, she turned her back to him, looked down at the magazine in her hands, and didn't say another word.
"Bridget?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder to see what was so interesting. "Oi, are you mad at me?"
No response.
"C'mon, Bridge, talk to me." If he thought using the nickname would help, he had better think again.
Determinedly ignoring his calls, she kept on reading until he took the magazine out of her hands – a shame, because she was just getting to an interesting quiz, 'So You Think You Know Quidditch?'
"What, is it something I said –" he began.
"Funnily enough," she interrupted him, snatching the magazine back, "the fact that you keep suggesting my parents support a manic mass-murderer somewhat offends me."
Sirius' expression softened, his lips forming a slight 'o' shape as he realised what he did wrong.
"Mate, look, I'm sorry," he said.
Bridget gave him one more glare for good measure. "'S all right," she said grudgingly, turning to put back the magazine. "I know you didn't mean it."
"No, listen." He pulled her around to face him fully. "I didn't think – I meant –" He stopped himself with a groan. "I didn't think you'd mind –"
"Didn't think I'd mind –"
"Not like that! I – just listen," Sirius said firmly. "I misspoke, alright? I'm so used to criticising my own parents for their beliefs that I forgot you didn't feel the same – about your parents, I mean, not their beliefs," he added quickly, seeing her open her mouth to argue again. "I'm sorry for accusing your dad, really, I am. I said it thoughtlessly. S'pose I forgot it could sound rotten to someone who actually likes their parents."
Bridget couldn't help the snort that escaped her. "Yeah, well..."
"I didn't mean to upset you," he insisted. "Promise."
Her smile widened, now turning apologetic. "I know you didn't."
She hadn't realised he'd been holding her hand until he cleared his throat and let it go.
"So we're good, then?" he clarified.
"'Course."
"Good, 'cause I think we better get going and meet the others."
When they reached the Leaky Cauldron, they found it filled with more customers than it had been earlier. Lunch hour had arrived, and the pub was serving several cheerful groups of witches and wizards, all gathered around wooden tables. The clinking of bottles and plates, and the buzz of lively chatter floated from all corners, giving the pub a certain cosiness.
As they stepped in from the chilly courtyard, a voice cried out to them, "Oi, Sirius!"
Bridget and Sirius both looked to where two arms were sticking out of the crowd, waving and gesticulating. James Potter's grinning face appeared momentarily when the wizard sitting at the table in front of him shifted due to swinging his mug around emphatically (and spilling its contents in the process) as he spoke to his companion jovially.
"Took you long enough," James said as they drew nearer. "I assume you're the reason he's late?"
"Guilty," Bridget admitted and accepted his hug. She smiled over James' shoulder to the boy next to him. "Hello, Remus. Nice tan."
"Yeah, I joined these two at the beach for a few days," Remus said. "My mum thought it'd do me good."
"She's doing okay now, yeah?" Bridget asked, giving a wave to Peter, who smiled back. "Hi, Peter."
"She's fine, thanks," Remus assured her (though, curiously, looked down and rubbed the back of his neck).
"Oh, James." Sirius elbowed his best friend. "She's been at Lily's for half the summer."
"Really?" James raised a sly eyebrow, lacing his fingers in front of him. "And how is dear Evans? Has she mentioned me?"
"Well, she'll be coming here any minute, so you can ask her yourself, you bloody five-year-old," Bridget said. "Hang on, I'm going to get myself a Butterbeer."
"Don't be ridiculous," James cut in. "You're surrounded by four gentlemen. Peter, go and get one, will you?"
"I've got two legs myself," Bridget insisted as Sirius pulled her back down.
"Nah, 's all right, I'm going," Peter said.
"Thanks, Peter," Bridget added as he passed her. "So, go on. Tell me all the things you've been up to. I bet you two are especially excited to gloat." She grinned at James and Sirius.
"Well, we did do a few brilliant things," Sirius admitted with a grin that suggested they were anything but 'few'.
The two of them took turns narrating their adventures, with Remus supplying helpful comments and thinly-veiled sarcastic remarks. One story that was particularly interesting was about a broken-down Muggle motorcycle they had found and were currently trying to fix up with magic. So far, they'd managed to blow up the exhaust pipe twice and make the engine roar so loudly it popped eardrums. But Sirius was confident they could get it to work – "We're two very exceptional wizards," he said (very self-assuredly, it might be added). "We'll get it right soon enough." He even hoped to make it fly eventually.
It was around this time that the rest of their friends began arriving. Frank showed up first, claiming that the reason it took him ages to come was because he went looking for Bridget at Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment (Sirius laughed while Bridget coughed and muttered about getting lost). Then came Marlene and Mary, a bag in each one's hand and very satisfied smiles on their faces. The last were Alice and Lily, the former waving excitedly and the latter giving an outright groan. Nevertheless, she plastered on a polite smile when greeting James.
"Potter." She addressed him last. At least she was trying to get along for the time being.
"Have a nice summer, Evans?" James wanted to know with a grin.
"Very nice, up until this moment."
Bridget always found it amusing how Lily was the most kind-hearted person she knew, and yet, when faced with James, all her sense of civility was abandoned.
"I was meaning to ask you, Lily," Remus said before James could open his mouth again. "Did you get the prefect badge?"
"'Course she did!" Marlene couldn't help exclaiming. "Who else would it've been?"
"I did," Lily said, smiling big. "And the boy's badge? It's you, yeah?" she asked hopefully.
Remus nodded with a laugh.
"We're all very proud," James interjected.
"Didn't expect it, actually," Remus admitted with a grin to his friends.
"Yeah, well, the rest of us did," Sirius said.
"You were always the good one among this lot," Frank said teasingly, quirking his eyebrows at James and Sirius.
"Us?" James inquired innocently, with a hand to his chest.
Sirius even feigned a gasp. "I'll have you know, we're always trying to be on our very best behaviour."
"'Trying' being the key word," Mary stage-whispered.
Laughter followed and there were collective demands for lunch to be ordered. Later, while passing around each other's meals, the topics of discussion hopped from recent summer anecdotes to the excitement of their return to school. They laughed loudly at jokes (mostly told by James), and slapped away hands trying to steal their chips (mostly attempted by Sirius). Alice and Frank were cajoled into sharing the details of their holiday together, and Remus was forced to retell an embarrassing story about a girl at the beach he was urged into talking to by James and Sirius.
Another round of Butterbeers arrived, and James raised his bottle. "A toast to –" He lowered his arm as he faltered. "Hang on, what are we toasting to?"
"Never being serious," Sirius said. "'S my motto, you know."
"Bit ironic when applied to you," Bridget noted.
"How about to another year at Hogwarts?" Alice offered.
"Yeah, the most stressful," Marlene said. "What with the O.W.L.s coming up."
James raised his bottle once more. "All right, yeah. To another distressing year at Hogwarts!" He paused for a split second. "And to never being serious," he added quickly, the afterthought greeted with laughs and cheers.
