AN: Hello everyone and welcome back for another magical year at Hogwarts - whoops, nope that's from A Very Potter Musical. But I do wish you welcome and hope you'll enjoy this week's chapter. Special thanks to KyuubiNoPuma for the review, I love you! (:
Chapter 21
In hindsight, it had been almost ridiculously easy to find the Leaky Cauldron. No, scratch that: it had been ridiculously easy to find the Leaky Cauldron.
After walking down the first road she had seen – the Charing Cross Road – in the direction of the city centre, she had literally happened upon the small pub in less than five minutes. That was not to say, however, that she had actually entered the Leaky Cauldron in five minutes.
Standing in front of the building, it had quickly become clear to Daisy that Muggles couldn't see the place. As would probably be the case on any other day in London, the city was packed with people, yet none of them seemed to give the shady pub even a second glance – or for that matter; even a first. Daisy, although she could see the place, whole-heartedly agreed with them.
The outside of the store was dark and shabby looking and for the first few minutes that she stood there, Daisy actually doubted whether she was at the right address. After she had established that this was, in fact, the renowned Leaky Cauldron, she spent the next minutes doubting whether she wanted to go in.
It wasn't before a mother and daughter, clearly having also come from Charing Cross, passed her and went inside, that she hesitantly followed.
The inside of the pub wasn't much better than the exterior. Yet again, dark and shabby looking. The tables looked like they hadn't been cleaned in ages and some of the pub's visitors looked very much the same. When one of the inhabitants stroked a snake that was casually hung over his shoulders, Daisy unconsciously took a step closer to the mother and daughter.
Opening a door, the older woman stepped out in a small courtyard at the back of the building, where apart from a few boxes and empty crates, wasn't much to see. Before Daisy could turn back to the tavern, however, the woman whipped out her wand and, seemingly randomly, tapped some of the bricks in the wall. Now, the two females both looked expectantly at the wall, which Daisy decided to mimic. But then it happened.
'Holy f..-' Daisy exclaimed as suddenly the wall started morphing and she stepped back in surprise.
The mother and daughter payed her no attention, instead casually linking arms as they passed under what was now a stone arch, leaving Daisy standing alone in the courtyard.
It took her all of two minutes to process what was going on. Then, as she had come to the conclusion that, yes, this woman had just opened a gate with her wand and, yes, behind the gate was Diagon Alley, she stepped out on the street.
Immediately, she was attacked by new smells, sights and sounds and her head spun with all fascinating things around her. Before her curiosity would run away with her, she stopped in front of one of the first shops on the road: Flourish and Blotts – a bookshop. If she was to start shopping for her Christmas presents somewhere, this seemed to be a good place.
As she had been sitting in the train, she had made a list of all the people that she'd wanted to buy presents for – which, in all honesty, weren't many – and had tried to come up with things to give them. Hermione had certainly been the easiest and so, it didn't take Daisy long to locate the section with books about magical creatures. Skimming the shelves for anything useful, she finally stopped as she found something promising. She grabbed the brown, leather bound book from the shelve and turned it around to look at the front. A History of House Elves.
'Perfect.' And it was. Since the brunette was completely taken with her new cause, S.P.I.T., it was a most suitable present. Add to that Hermione's undying thirst for knowledge and love for books and the book was sure to be received well.
On her way to the cash register Daisy came upon a pile of books titled 'Monsters and Mysteries of Great Britain' and decided on it as a good Christmas gift for her Bulgarian friend. Who knew, she might put a picture of herself somewhere between the pages.
Back out on the street, her two books securely wrapped and tucked away, she continued on the cobble road. Her next stop was at the Quality Quidditch Supplies, which – as the name already implies – sold Quidditch Supplies. Stepping inside of the small shop, Daisy felt strangely out of place. Like how you feel when you go to a soccer store when you yourself don't play soccer. Add to that the fact that you barely know what soccer is and you get the level of awkwardness that Daisy was experiencing at that particular moment.
'Can I help you?'
Looking up, she noticed that the shopkeeper had come out from behind the counter and now stood in front of her. He was all that you expected to find in a sports store: big, burly and only a little too masculine, looking at her as if he knew just as well as she did that she didn't belong there.
'Actually,' she began, the word sounding closer to a squeal than an actual human voice. She cleared her throat and straightened her back, trying again. 'Actually, I was looking for some things for ehm a broom.'
'Ah,' he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 'Buying Christmas presents for a friend, eh?'
What possessed her to say the next, Daisy wasn't sure. Perhaps it was the way his eyes twinkled as if realising he'd been right: she didn't belong there. Perhaps it was the way he sounded only a little bit too triumphant about that fact. 'Actually, it's for me. For my broom.'
The surprised look was almost worth the lie. That was until he had recovered and nodded. 'I see. What kind of broom is it? Of course, I can't really help you if I don't know what kind of material we're dealing with.'
It was a lie and she knew it. He was testing her, knowing just as well as she did that she didn't own a broom. He had, however, underestimated her if he thought she would fall so easily. 'A Firebolt. Must say it's quite an improvement to my old Nimbus 2000, but the handle's been getting a little rough from all the matches.' The lie came smoothly and easily and for once, Daisy was glad that Harry and Ron seemed unable to talk about anything else than Quidditch. Looking at the shopkeeper through her eyelashes, she noticed he was now looking at her with something close to respect.
'A Firebolt, you say.' He nodded approvingly, then moved to another part of the shop. 'I think I have just what you need for that handle of yours. Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish,' he held up the small container. 'A bit pricy, but it will last you a long time.'
She accepted the container in silence, not wishing to dig her hole any deeper than it already was.
'Was there anything else you needed?'
Thinking back on her Christmas list, she nodded. 'I'm looking for some Chudley Cannons merchandise as well.'
His newfound respect vanished as easily as snow on a summer day and he let out thunderous laugh. 'Chudley Cannons? They couldn't even win a match if their opponents would all be replaced by orange snails!'
'It's for a friend,' she said, defensively.
'Well, tell your friend that he'd better find himself another team to support.' He walked away and, not knowing what else to do, Daisy followed him. 'Anyways, I don't know why we still keep this stuff, though I must say the Cannons have one of the most dedicated fan clubs of all English and Irish teams. And that says something, especially given how ridiculously bad they are.'
Deciding to simply smile and agree, Daisy picked out a poster of all of the players flying mid-game and walked to the counter. Hopefully now, it would be over.
'You said you played, right?'
It took her a moment to catch on. 'Yes, I do. Only school games, though.'
'Everyone's got to start somewhere, right? Look at that Bulgarian boy, Viktor Krum. He's still in school and he's already world-famous.'
Daisy chuckled. 'I'm no Viktor Krum, though.' And that was the truth – for perhaps the first time in their entire conversation.
Handing her her things, he leaned forward, looking thoughtful. 'Tell you what. Me and some friends usually play a friendly match of Quidditch on our free evenings – if we have enough people, that is. Why don't you join us tonight, show us what you got.'
'That's really friendly of you, but I can't.' Once again, the truth. She couldn't play Quidditch. Heck, she couldn't even ride a broomstick. 'I am going out of town. I am sorry.'
'That's okay. Just look me up whenever you have the time. I would really like to see that Firebolt in action.'
'I will.' And that.. well, that wasn't the truth.
AN: For everyone who noticed: Yes, I know Hermione's cause is called S.P.E.W., not S.P.I.T.. This, however, is from Daisy's point of view and she - probably like most others - messes up the name. Although she doesn't understand house elf slavery as a Muggleborn and thinks it's ridiculous as well, she's not such a fanatic as Hermione.