Disclaimer - See the first chapter, Lazy.

Chapter 6

Harold looked around. There were so many shops selling so many amazing things that hadn't even been touched upon in the books. Everywhere he looked, there were wizards and witches milling around discussing the latest Manic Merlin concert that they were going to or their new dress robes that they were going to wear to some unpronounceable, unspellable state function. After he had observed the scene around him, Harry led him away to Gringott's.
"Why is there a random fireplace in the middle of Diagon Alley?" he asked.
"So that people who cannot apparate can still get to the centre of Diagon Alley without having to go to the Leaky Cauldron. Some people feel a little bit uneasy there. It's nowhere near as cozy as in the books. You're lucky if you get out of there with all your limbs. I lost a finger."
He showed Harold a healed stump where his finger should have been.
"How on earth did you manage that?" Harold asked.
"Long story."
They passed a hairdresser. Harold looked in, curious. There blonde haired individual who was giving a young which a perm matched a familiar description.
"Oh my gosh! Is that Lockhart? I thought he was in St Mungo's!"
"Erm, no. He didn't really lose his memory. He isn't good enough at memory charms to. He legged it when me and Ron went down to the Chamber and then started work as a hairdresser. Stupid git."
Harold couldn't think of anything to say to that.
They arrived at the huge white bank with tiny goblins at the door. They bowed low to the pair as they strode in through the entrance. The interior was exactly as Harold had imagined it. There were goblins weighing jewels on specially enchanted scales that spoke the weight to the as many decimal places as they could until you yelled at them to shut up. There was a lot of goblins yells filling the room. They joined a queue behind an old, stooping witch who had antlers poking out of her head. She was attempting to change about 6369 knuts into galleons, and it was taking a while to count them, so this left Harold and Harry with a long time to talk.
"So, what actually happened in book number seven? And how long ago did it happen? Why are you teaching when you wanted to be an auror?"
"It all happened last year. I can't give you the exact details - I have no idea what J. K. Rowling is going to change. There is Voldemort's downfall, though. But there are still the Death Eaters everywhere - and they are absolutely livid. That's why I'm still in Hogwarts. In case they try to do me in."
"I see. But aren't we all in danger? Won't they try and gat a new leader?"
"No one as terrible as him. No way. But we must still remain vigilant and watchful none the less."
"As well you might, deary!" croaked the voice of the old woman in front of them, turning to stare at them with her ultra violet pupil.
"Always watching! Always!" Her voice rose to a shriek and she was bundled out with a jingling of coins by the goblins. Harry and Harold stepped forward in the queue and hastily changed their money.
"Who on earth was that? She sounded like a banshee!"
"There is a reason for that. By the look of her she was a banshee crossed with a mentally ill reindeer. You get used to them when you have been in the wizarding world for a while believe me."
The exited the building and walked purposefully in the opposite direction to the banshee crossed reindeer.
"Right. What do we need to get you? Obviously a wand and some robes. Then maybe a few books on defensive magic. There isn't really much else. Unless you want a broom? I could teach you to fly if you want."
"That would be incredible. I would love that, thanks."
"Right, well, boring stuff first. Robes."
They entered the shop. Harry greeted the young, pretty, redheaded witch at the counter.
"Hey Gin, darling. Teachers robes for Harold here. Have you heard about him?"
"Of course I have. Lupin told me. I saved a pair especially for him." She started rummaging around the back of the shop.
"Here, see if these fit." She said kindly to Harold, who took them and went into the small cubical indicated to try them on. He was a bit confused as to how to put them on at first but he soon worked it out. They were a perfect size for him so he got out his money in order to pay for them.
"Right," said Harry, "Books next." He pecked Ginny on the cheek and the left the shop in order to buy the books.
They later left the book store with two large, leather bound books on the Defence Against the Dark Arts and set of for the broom store.
"How come Ginny's working in the robes place? I thought she would still be in school."
"She is. She just has a part time holiday job there. You know her parents can't afford to give her much."
They entered High Flier, the broom shop. Harold thoroughly enjoyed looking at all the brooms and he took a while to decide which one to go for. He couldn't afford a Firebolt, but he went for a Sweeper 459 that Harry recommended. Harry picked up a copy of Which Broomstick, which he promised to lend to Harold when he had finished. They then had one more thing left to buy: a wand.
They entered Ollivander's wand shop and were greeted by the very old, frail face that Harold had imagined so many times. Harry explained that he was, in fact, a muggle, but he was doing a Kwickspell course and had special circumstances and so needed a wand. Ollivander agreed that although he did not usually agree with selling wands to muggles he would this time.
"Although," he said, "It may be hard to find a good match. The wand chooses the - er - man."
He started to rifle through many boxes. and thrusting them in his direction. Harold tried waving them around but none did anything. This didn't seem to put Ollivander off.
"Of course they won't do anything spectacular. But I still can't see ... hmm. Maybe this one. Strange wands go to the strangest of owners, don't they Mister Potter?"
He pulled out a wand. Harold felt slightly alarmed.
"Hazel, 10 5/6 inches, Dragon Heartstring. A bit on the stiff side."
Harold took it. He waved it, rather foolishly, admitidly, but the wand ignored such feelings. Sparks cascaded out the end of it in as many hues as the rainbow and then some. As the illuminated the small, dingy shop they highlighted Ollivanders surprised face.
"Curious, curious," said old Ollivander, shaking his head.
"Sorry, but what is curious?" asked Harold.
"That same dragon's heartstring was also used in another wand, only one. That wand's brother belongs to no other than Fenrir Greyback, who slaughtered more muggles than Voldemort himself."