Chapter 10 – The Switcheroo
Author's Note: We've reached the 10-chapter mark! And to compensate for the last short chapter, this chapter is longer than usual! Most parts are taken from the Chamber of Secrets book.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its universe.
Life at the Weasley Den in Devon was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!"
The House Elf flittered around the house, helping Molly with her chores, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What
Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's, however, wasn't the talking mirror or the house elf: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like him.
Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry and Andrew to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.
"Fascinating!" he would say as Andrew talked him through using a telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic."
Some days later, Ron told his friends that Ginny's birthday was in two days. Between Harry, Neville and Andrew, they decided to give some of the Hogwarts basic items as presents. Andrew had sent Odin with a letter to his parents asking for some money for a full Potions set and the Potions book. Neville decided to chip in with the Herbology and Charms book with some money that his Gran gave him to splurge, additional to the money to buy his school utilities, while Harry bought the History and Transfiguration books with some extra cash he had. Between all three and Ron, they also planned to buy her a nice diary on Andrew's suggestion.
"Girls her age do need her privacy and where to confide her stuff." Andrew said knowingly, while Ron, Neville and Harry glanced at each other with confused faces.
His father's answer came late in the evening and it was quick and positive. In a leather pouch, he sent enough galleons to buy the asked items and a bit more extra. His mother also attached a Flourish and Blotts owl order with his father's missive.
"You mum does think ahead." Ronald said, awed.
"Well, I had to get the brains from somewhere, eh?" Andrew answered grinning.
They filled the owl order and sent Odin once more. The package would hopefully come on Ginny's birthday.
Two days later…
Ginny's sleep was interrupted by a soft knock at her door. She woke up groggily from her bed. Then she heard the door creak open slightly.
"Ginny, good morning to you!" Molly entered with a big smile on her face. "Happy birthday! You finally turned eleven!" The Weasley matriarch hugged her youngest tightly. She submission-tapped her mother's shoulder and noticed that Ginny was being squashed and let go.
"Gee, mum, you nearly left me out of air. You really seem overenthusiastic." she said grinning.
"Well, it is kinda hard to have my youngest baby girl going to Hogwarts. It's sad for me to see the nest being empty…" Molly sniffled.
"Don't worry. Perce, Fred, George, Ron and I will be back soon. We will come after term ends." Ginny said, patting her mother's shoulder. Molly smiled endearingly at her daughter and stood up from her bed.
"Change from your pajamas. The others are already waiting for you." Molly left the room and Ginny proceeded to change her clothes and brush her hair a bit, to shake off the bed head.
She exited her room and she found the living room decorated for her birthday. The twins popped from either side of the entrance to the living room.
"Happy birthday, little Ginnykins!" the twins chorused.
Behind them were Percy pestering Ron for some unknown reason and Neville speaking with her childhood friend Luna Lovegood. She had straggly, shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Her parents were a bit further away, sitting on the shortest sofa. Harry and Andrew weren't in the living room, for some reason.
She sat at the designated chair next to the table and some presents from her family and from Luna. Neville approached Ginny and whispered to her ear.
"Andy and Harry are waiting for your presents outside."
Ginny's mind reeled and wondered what they were waiting for. Luna sat next to her and chatted amicably about random stuff (mostly her weird beings and her hunts with her father) when he suddenly heard Andrew's muffled shout.
"Fred, George! Harry and I need a hand here!"
The twins exited the living room and the house and after much struggle, between the four, they brought a big box wrapped as a present. Ginny's eyes went big!
"W-wh-what's all this?" Ginny asked in surprise.
"That, my dear Ginevra, is my present, mixed with Neville's, Ron's and Harry's." Andrew told her eagerly.
"Go on and open it." Harry nudged her, making her blush intensely.
Ginny opened the box carefully, peeling the wrapping paper meticulously. Fred and George appeared next to her.
"Gin, you're being too slow." Fred exclaimed.
"We're gonna help!" George continued.
Between the three they unwrapped the present and opened the box. Ginny's eyes opened wider than before.
She saw a couple of books, a pewter cauldron, the other items she needed for school and lots of her favorite candy. Molly and Arthur approached their daughter and they also were surprised at what they were seeing.
"Oh kids, you shouldn't have done all of this!" Arthur said. Molly was in tears of joy.
"It is no problem, Mr. Weasley. After all, Ginny DOES need all of this." Andrew said proudly.
"The only things we didn't buy were the Defense books since the letters haven't been sent yet, the school robes –" Harry said until Andrew interrupted rudely.
"Oh right! Mum said that Ginny has an appointment next Wednesday for the robes."
Harry, Neville and Ron rolled their eyes at their older friend.
"– as I was saying before I got rudely interrupted, the Defense books, the robes, the school trunk and her wand are the only thing that we didn't buy. But we do have one more present for her."
Harry brought from his back a rectangular present and gave tit o Ginny, who was red as a scalding hot boiler because of the proximity of Harry. She nervously opened the package and she saw a leather-covered book."
"It's a diary. Andrew told me of a bookstore near where we live that's run by a retired Muggleborn witch and Ron and I bought it for you. I know it's not much but…"
Ginny's body went on automatic and hugged Harry out of the blue and when she noticed what she was doing, squeaked like a trodden mouse and ran to her room, slamming the door shut. Everyone just stopped and laughed at the youngest Weasley's antics.
Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about half a week after Ginny's birthday. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.
"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry, Andrew, Neville and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you three are here, — doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.
For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.
SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry's.
"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it's a witch."
At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."
"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up the remainder of Ginny's things secondhand."
She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.
"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."
He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster — at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.
"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally — he's got Hermione's answer!"
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:
"Dear Ron, (and Harry, Andrew and Neville if you're there),
I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course —"
"How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation!"
"At least she has the right idea." Andrew replied. Ron glared at him in disgust.
"— and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can.
Love from Hermione."
"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"
Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go to the backyard to play Quidditch, while Andrew and Neville stayed put. Andrew liked playing Quidditch but since Neville was accident-prone, he decided to stay with his friend.
It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the neighboring residences, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high. They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the tree line. Instead, they threw apples for one another to catch. They took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.
Five minutes later they were marching out of the shed, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.
"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; ten O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."
"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's puzzled look. "Bill also managed to receive ten. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."
Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harry had never met either of them, but knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.
"How many O.W.L.s can someone have?" asked Neville, curious.
"The norm is from 7 to 8, 9 or 10 of you're an overachiever, like Perce or Bill." Fred answered.
"There is the rare case that you can select all twelve classes. But who could handle the basic seven plus five electives?" George continued.
"They must be bloody mad to do that." Ron concluded.
The six of them sat silently.
"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs the rest of the things we didn't buy her…"
Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had money; you couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.
In Malfoy Manor on a Wednesday morning…
Draco was sitting by his desk, writing on Tom's diary.
"Today father and I are going to Diagon Alley. I just got the letter for next year's books."
Interesting. Any changes?
"There's a ton of books by that pompous fool Gilderoy Lockhart this year. Dad was slightly annoyed at the selection of the teacher but he hasn't told me yet who it was."
I don't know who that Lockhart fool is. Besides that, what else are you doing?
"Just refill some of the potions ingredients and pester dad for a broomstick."
Very well.
A knock was heard on Draco's bedroom. Then he heard his father from behind the door.
"Draco, we're leaving soon. I hope you are prepared."
"Father's ready to leave."
Okay. Take me with you, just in case the House Elves come to clean your room.
"Sure will, Tom. I'll write to you later."
At that same time…
Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"
And she offered him the flowerpot.
Harry stared at them all watching him.
"I…I…" he stammered.
"He's never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."
"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
"I went on the Underground — "
"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly — "
"They're called escalators, Mr. Weasley –" started Andrew.
"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley, brusquely interrupting Andrew. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before — "
"I've seen people use it, but I haven't…"
"He'll be all right, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first."
He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.
With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.
"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate..."
"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.
"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly…"
"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder, too.
"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"
"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that — "
"Well... all right... you go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going — "
"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.
"And your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley. "The soot —
"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace — "
"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."
Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry went to grab the Floo Powder when Andrew cleared his throat.
"I'll go with Harry, for security measures." said the Ravenclaw, patting his friend's shoulder. Harry felt relieved and he then took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and both stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.
"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed. Andrew looked at Harry alarmingly, when suddenly the flames turned emerald green and vanished.
It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain. Harry seemed to be spinning very fast — the roaring in his ears was deafening — he bear-hugged Andrew to cling on to something safe — he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick — something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning — now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face — squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond — his bacon sandwiches were churning inside him — he closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then —
He fell, face forward, onto cold stone, Andrew next to him and felt the bridge of his glasses snap under his friend's weight.
Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, and helped Andrew up. The Ravenclaw cleaned himself of the soot and picked up his broken glasses up to his eyes. They were quite alone, but where he was, he had no idea.
All they could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop — but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.
"I don't like the feeling of this place, Harry…" Andrew said slightly scared.
A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.
"The sooner we get out of here, the better." Harry said in a whisper to Andrew, with his nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth.
Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass — and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.
Harry stopped cold, pushed Andrew back and looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. They were in a tight fit since Andrew's bulk was taking most of the space. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.
The man who followed could only be Draco's father.
He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."
Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.
"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. He had 'special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor'." He said in a childish, mocking voice.
Andrew and Harry had to suppress a giggle. Draco was acting like a little kid crossed with a gossipy teenager.
"He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead..."
Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.
"...everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick —"
"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son.
"Harry, I think that Drakey boy has a deeply unaccepted crush towards you." Andrew whispered very low on Harry's ear and suppressed a chuckle.
"And I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regards him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — ah, Mr. Borgin."
"Borgin? Oh no, I think I know where we are right now…" Andrew whispered, nervousness creeping in his voice.
"Where are we, Andy?" Harry whispered.
"Borgin and Burkes: one of the shops specializing on Dark Arts in Knockturn Alley!" Andrew gulped after answering to Harry.
A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted — and young Master Malfoy, too — charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced —"
"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.
Andrew's ears perked at that sentence and he squinted his eyes in suspicion.
"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.
"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call..."
Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.
"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"
Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.
"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —"
Harry felt a hot surge of anger.
"— and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear — "
"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see..."
"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."
"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant!"
"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for…"
"I've TOLD you that it's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, like that Hermione Granger — "
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.
"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.
"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere —
"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.
"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today — "
They started to haggle. Harry and Andrew watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.
Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward — he stretched out his hand for the handle —
"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco
Harry wiped his forehead on his sleeve as Draco turned away.
"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. Ill expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."
The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.
"Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor..."
Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.
Clutching his broken glasses to his face, Harry stared around. He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching them from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, trying to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of here.
An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles confirmed them that they were in Knockturn Alley. He supposed he hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what to do.
"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making Harry jump.
An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails.
She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.
"We're fine, thanks," Andrew said. "We're just — "
"HARRY! ANDREW! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"
Harry's heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.
"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief.
"We were lost — Harry misspoke while using Floo powder — "
Hagrid seized Harry and Andrew by the scruff of their necks and pulled them away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance — Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered him right into Diagon Alley.
"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. Hagrid went to clean Andrew but he decided to quickwipe himself.
"Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno — dodgy place, yeh two — don' want no one ter see yeh down there — "
"I realized that," said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost!
"What were you doing down there, anyway?" Andrew interjected suspiciously.
"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own?"
"Andrew, Neville and I are staying with the Weasleys but we got separated,"
Harry explained. "I've got to go and find them. ..."
They set off together down the street.
"How come yeh never wrote back ter me?" said Hagrid as Harry jogged alongside him (they had to take three steps to every stride of Hagrid's enormous boots). Harry explained all about Dobby, the Dursleys, the Ministry and the Rivers.
"Lousy Muggles," growled Hagrid. "If I'd've known — "
"Harry! Andy! Over here!"
Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. Andrew blushed when he saw her and greeted her nervously.
"What happened to your glasses, Harry? Hello, Hagrid — Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again — Are you coming into Gringotts, you two?"
"As soon as we've found the Weasleys," said Andrew.
"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.
Harry and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Neville and Mr. Weasley.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far..." He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic — she's coming now — "
"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.
"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.
"Excellent." said Fred and George together.
"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.
"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid.
Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.
"Oh, Harry, Andrew — oh, my dears — you could have been anywhere — "
Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.
"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!"). "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.
"Guess who we saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron, Neville and Hermione as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."
"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.
"No, he was selling — "
"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."
"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew — "
"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indignantly.
"Don't worry, Mr. Weasley, I'll tell Dad and you two can get him pinned. He should be around today." said Andrew smirking.
"Oh, I will tell Anthony…" Arthur said but he didn't finish the sentence because he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.
"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly.
"We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.
"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.
The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin- driven carts that sped along minature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys' vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag.
While exiting to the main lobby of the bank, one of the goblin tellers stopped the Weasley clan.
"Excuse me, Mr. Arthur Weasley?" the goblin said.
"Yes, it's me. Excuse me, but is there something wrong, respected goblin?" Arthur replied.
"Not at all, just that the goblin accountant for your vault received a letter from a N. Flamel which said that with the transfer of the ownership of the house from him to Mr. Potter and then, on Mr. Potter's wish, to your family, you also have two more vaults signed off to your name."
The eyes of everyone present nearly popped out of their sockets and Molly fainted. After finishing all the paperwork and extracting a bit more of money, they left the bank/
Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to Madam Malkin's Robe shop for the appointment. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.
Harry, Ron, Neville, Andrew and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in their pockets were clamoring to be spent, so they bought four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, while Andrew bought his own, slightly smaller vanilla ice cream with caramel and nuts for himself ("Mum wants me to lay off the sweets for some while", Andy said while sighing), which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet- Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power.
"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating. ..."
"Go away," Percy snapped.
"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out... He wants to be Minister of Magic..." Ron told the quartet in an undertone as they left Percy to it.
An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
Will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.
"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies... Don't push, there... mind the books, now..."
Helping out the wizard was none other than…
"Dad!" Andrew exclaimed. Anthony smiled at his son's shout and hugged him tightly.
"Hey there, kiddo. How are you faring at the Weasleys?" he asked curiously, while he directed the kids inside.
"We're doing okay. How's Mum and Tony?"
"They're okay. Mum misses you a lot. She can't wait to see you soon."
Harry, Ron, Andrew, Neville and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. Meanwhile, the Ravenclaw vanished to get his copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3, Numerology and Grammatica, Runes - A Beginner's Guide and the Intermediate Transfiguration and sneaked up the line to where Harry, Hermione, Neville and the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."
Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.
A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.
"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet!"
"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.
Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Andrew, then Ron — and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"
The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.
"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."
When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!
"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge — " The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new school trunk, holding her diary clutched to her chest.
"You have these," Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the trunk. "I'll buy my own — "
They moved to a less crowded part of the shop and Ginny bumped into someone, making the books and her diary fall from her hands. When she bent down, she noticed who she bumped into.
"Well well, look who it is: the Weasley youngest brat. Watch where you're going, blood-traitor" He clutched a black book and placed it under his arm. Then he smirked when he saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Andrew. "Ah, if it's none other than Potty, Weasle-bee, the Mudblood, the Squib and the usurper. Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He turned around and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy.
"Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny. She was glaring at Malfoy.
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.
"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the trunk, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.
"Well, at least you aren't the one whining to Daddy that a muggle born whipped your pale, Slytherin arse to next week on the class rankings." Andrew stepped in front of the group. Hermione slapped Andrew on the arm for talking like that. Draco's face changed into a loathing one.
"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. Mr. Rivers was just behind them. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley and Anthony Rivers."
It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.
"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly. Anthony openly glared at Lucius.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"
He reached into Ginny's trunk and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, an old, battered copy of Potions Basics – The Full Encyclopedia, which it was recommended by Andrew to help her on her first year.
"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny.
"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr. Rivers said. "Or do you want a reminder from twelve years ago, Lucius?"
"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you two keep... and I thought your families could sink no lower — "
There was a thud of wood as Ginny's trunk went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads. Mr. Rivers also entered the brawl to hit Malfoy. There was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please — please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all —
"Break it up, there, gents, break it up — "
Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's Potions book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.
"Here, girl — take your book — " Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.
"Yeh two should've ignored him," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that — no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter — bad blood, that's what it is — come on now — let's get outta here."
The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury. Janice appeared from Madam Malkin's entrance across from Flourish and Blotts, hearing the shouts.
"Molly, what just happened?" Janice inquired.
"Our husbands were brawling like common street rats with Lucius Malfoy, that's what!" Molly told her.
"A fine example to set for your children, both of you... brawling in public!" shouted Janice at both Arthur and Anthony, with her wand brandished at her husband.
"What Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought — " Molly shouted.
"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report — said it was all publicity — "
But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, Neville, Andrew, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Weasley Den using Floo powder. They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.
Harry took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket before helping himself to Floo powder. It definitely wasn't his favorite way to travel.