Notes: Apologies for both the delay in posting this section as well as how short it is, especially as I left the last chapter on a bit of a cliff-hanger. I had been working on it sporadically as I studied for some professional recertification exams over the last two months, but nearly three weeks ago, we had another serious family health crisis. Since I had already been sitting on this for more than a month, and knowing my focus will naturally be elsewhere for a bit, I decided to go ahead and share what I had, even though it's only about 4k words. I very much appreciate your kind words and patience as we navigate through this. I am pretty hopeful about having another chapter up before the end of the year, but one thing 2021 has taught me very thoroughly is that sometimes Fate has plans that contradict our own. Finally, no political statements one way or another are intended in the glimpses of the electioneering provided below; it is just fanfiction.

Disclaimer and Acknowledgements: I don't own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. Some descriptions of Diagon Alley were inspired by the shopping scenes in Books 1-3 as well as a few fan-devised maps of the district hanging around on the internet, such as ithildins' Diagon Alley Map on Deviant Art. Also, the campaign slogans that appear below are influenced by, and in some cases drawn directly from, election messaging used by various British and American political parties starting in the 1960s through today.

This chapter is dedicated to new readers, those who have followed and favorited this story, as well as to mwinter1, wolf970, Lulu, Hank1967, Greg, cirque, Deanna Halliwell, iceey, firebord-fenix, Anon19740, Ermac18, cirque, slinky gustavo, Fireandy, iiNeo, BndtLkBckm, sryamgangwal63, Hedwig68, cccarie, Rabbids, Gabilian, and guests for their comments on chapter 23.

~Previously..."Breaking the stunned silence in the shop, Harry decided to announce his presence, "It sounds like I missed a lot while I was at the bank."~

7 August 1998 - 10:32am- Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, Diagon Alley, London

Harry raised an eyebrow as he approached the sandy-haired wizard and his girlfriend, "Weasel, Neville... really?"

"About that..." the Longbottom Heir began sheepishly.

"It might have been my influence," Millicent admitted, striving for a repentant look and failing spectacularly.

The bespectacled wizard shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Slytherins. "What happened?" he finally asked. "It seemed to have been a fairly intense disagreement."

"Ron was in a foul mood when he arrived, and you know how... thoughtless he can be when he's in a temper," Neville explained, choosing his words carefully.

Never one for treading delicately, no matter her cunning, Millicent burst in, "He was incredibly rude to Daphne and me."

Harry reflexively turned toward the fitting area at the mention of the brunette, catching his first glimpse of her father, who appeared to be considering a purchase from Madam Malkin's Fall cloak collection. Refocusing his attention on the couple before him, Harry studiously ignored the smirk gracing the tall witch's face at his rather obvious distraction. Merlin help him.

"He said he had been trying to reach you for a few days and seemed hurt that you hadn't sent him an owl or returned his floo calls," Neville revealed reluctantly. Hermione had spent years lecturing her friends about how childhood abuse and neglect often led to chronic self-blame, and Harry's tendency to feel responsible for everything, including events well beyond his control, was not a secret to any of them.

Almost on cue, Harry flushed guiltily, remembering the sliver of relief he had felt at the prospect of having a little separation and independence at the Academy. And, while he knew most of that had been due to his fears for Ron, given the potential for collateral damage from Dumbledore's machinations; the deeper implications still left a bad taste in his mouth. The fact that he had been hiding at the cottage in Wales for the last few days, deliberately out of touch since his appointment with Mr. Lam and utterly without regard for how that might impact anyone else, only compounded the feeling. It seemed obvious to him now that Ron would want to talk about their respective Academy squads, especially since they hadn't been assigned to the same one, but it hadn't even registered as a consideration at the time. He was honest enough with himself to admit that he had not been a particularly good friend over the last week, and Ron was, predictably, lashing out.

"Once he learned that you and I had been placed on the same team, it escalated quickly. It was like he'd lost his mind; that's what you walked into." Rubbing the back of his neck, Neville looked away, "I know I shouldn't have baited him, Harry, but after all his snide insinuations... I didn't even try to stop myself. He's just been such an arse about the Academy this whole year, that I guess I felt compelled to tell him about himself." He offered a wry smile, "It was honestly quite cathartic. Still, I am sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," the raven haired wizard chided gently.

"No, I suppose you're right," Neville acknowledged, though it chafed a little.

Harry ran his hand though his already messy locks and sighed, "It's normal to try and cling to the familiar when everything around you is in transition, isn't it?"

"Are you comparing yourself to a security blanket? Because, really, Harry, 'The-Man-Who-Was-A-Wubby' doesn't have quite the same ring to it as your other titles.

Harry chucked lightly, "Maybe in a way. Look, I'm not trying to make excuses for him or anything, but change is hard, and he's never dealt with it particularly gracefully."

"I have always admired your gift for understatement," Daphne declared, swallowing the habitual honorific in deference to Harry's oft-stated preferences and trying her best to keep it casual as she hopped down from the seamstress' stool to join the group. She had, naturally, been eavesdropping on the entire exchange and had barely refrained from marching over to Potter to make him repeat her mantra about not being responsible for anyone else's nonsense. Thankfully, she had resisted the urge. After all, Madam Malkin was unlikely to appreciate the disruption of her fitting, and it wouldn't do to discuss such a thing in public anyway; which was to say nothing of how her father might react. No, it was far better to save that conversation for later.

"Daphne!" She very nearly blushed when those ridiculously green eyes focused solely on her, his delight at her company plain to see. Such an open display of honest affection put her briefly off her stride. Harry was so different from most of the wizards she interacted with socially. This was largely refreshing, of course, but at times also a bit unnerving. Ever the hero, he gestured to the garment bag she was holding, expertly pushing them through the awkward moment. "Let's see then," he prompted.

Refusing to be flustered and grateful for the distraction, she obliged his request. With a flourish, she unzipped her bag to reveal several sets of sleek maroon robes with the distinctive white stripes of a first-year auror cadet along their sleeves, shoulder to wrist. Then, in a fit of playfulness, she produced a black beret from the depths of the bag and perched it on her head with an exaggerated salute and a smile. "So," she asked the others, turning is a circle to model the head cover, "what do you think?"

"Very fetching," Millie pronounced immediately.

"It looks nice on you, but Harry and I are going to look ridiculous," Neville lamented.

"Oy, Longbottom, speak for yourself," Harry teased, though Merlin only knew how he was going to keep the thing on his head given the uncooperative bird's nest he called hair.

Still smiling, this time at the boys' antics, Daphne removed the cap and stowed it with her uniforms before handing the package off to her father. Sebastian accepted it with grace, as he had been under no illusions that his role on this trip wouldn't end up being more sherpa than chaperone. "Flourish and Blotts, next?" she proposed.

"Sounds like a plan."

Once everyone had finalized their purchases, the party of six offered their respects to the proprietress before exiting her shop and heading west along the winding, cobbled street toward their next destination. For various reasons, all of which were connected to Voldemort in one way or another, today was the first time in just over two years that Harry had visited London's magical commercial district in person. As his eyes took in the throngs of shoppers and exotic wares along the main thoroughfare, a tension in his chest that he hadn't even been aware still existed melted away. Here was tangible proof of not only the resilience of the magical world but also its new-found peace. It seemed that despite the recent terror campaign conducted by Tom Riddle and his followers, Diagon Alley remained as fascinating and busy as ever.

Evidence of the upcoming Wizengamot election was everywhere! Some truly impressive charm work as well as a showmanship reminiscent of the displays Harry had observed at the 1994 Quidditch World Cup could be found in the variety of colourful posters and flashing signs that blanketed most storefronts.

The flower vendor at the intersection with Horizont Alley was a clear supporter of Master Herbologist Tildon Toots, with banners sporting the WWN sensation's bearded visage and conspicuously green thumbs calling out to passers-by, "Let's grow it together!" along with other signs cheerfully proclaiming his campaign slogan: 'Planting the Seeds for a Better Tomorrow.' Harry was reminded fondly of the over-the-top lion hat Luna would often wear to Gryffindor's matches at Hogwarts. Wizards definitely didn't do this kind of thing by halves.

In contrast, Quality Quidditch Supplies, the next shop on Diagon's north side, didn't appear to favor any particular candidate. Rather, each of the six nominees had been allotted a single 18" x 24" space in the store's main display window. Harry spotted a poster showcasing the Neutral party's security candidate first, 'Give a hoot and vote for Boot,' before catching a glimpse of Mr. Weasley's smiling face, as the balding red head waved and the words: 'For the Many Not the Few' and 'Freedom, Justice, Honesty' cycled underneath in Gryffindor red and gold. Next in line was the real estate mogul, whose campaign messaging was surprisingly understated, considering the tasteless and ego-centric predilections rampant in his business advertising. Only three words adorned his solid green poster, its simple, silver-leaf lettering glistening in the sunlight: 'Prestige. Prosperity. Pridgeon.' It was the last sign in the row bearing Avigdor Chang's motto: 'Magic is Might,' however, that brought Harry to a halt and his earlier optimism crashing down. Frowning, Daphne paused beside him, her attention apparently also drawn to the Traditionalist candidate's political statement. "Make the Wizarding World Great Again," she read, scoffing, "Ridiculous."

Harry catalogued his companions' reactions to the campaign messaging - Andi's pursed lips and Neville's scowl - before stumbling as he passed through what he realized could only be a powerful, goblin-made warding field. Was it part of the protections on one of the shops? The sensation wasn't quite like what he had experienced in the bank, but it was still disconcerting. He nodded vaguely to reassure Daphne that he was fine, still distracted by the magic hanging thickly in the air around them.

Recognizing that the schema shared certain characteristics with other mentally-focused wards, like notice-me-nots and muggle-repelling, the former Gryffindor suddenly looked across the street, turning toward what he was now certain had to be the source of the disturbance, only to do a double-take when a bookseller he had never noticed before seemed to materialize out of thin air. The dark, nearly windowless building was nestled between the Daily Prophet's main office and another rather ominous shop evidently called 'Broomstixxx,' situated at the end of a flagpole lot that was so long only the owl perch engraved with the name of the establishment could be seen from the main road. "What's this, er...'Wizzhard Books over the way?" the bespectacled wizard asked his companions, squinting in the distance to read the sign. "I don't remember seeing it before...Do you think they'll carry any of our text books?"

Everyone froze, and an uncomfortable silence descended on the group. How to handle this delicately? Another moment passed before Neville, bless him, took the reins, once again demonstrating why he had been sorted into the house of the brave. "No, Harry. They...uh cater to a fairly niche market." Despite her best efforts, her boyfriend's careful response and straight-faced delivery sent Millicent into a fit of uncontrolled laughter.

Rolling her eyes at the spectacle, Daphne was quick to assure Harry that Millie's amusement wasn't at his expense. "It's an adult bookstore, Potter, and some people," the pretty brunette shot a pointed look at her former housemate, leaving no doubt as to whom she was referring, "remain at the mercy of their juvenile sense of humor well into adulthood." With a haughty sigh, she continued, "One can only hope she will eventually grow out of it."

Since departing from the clothiers, Sebastian Greengrass and Andromeda Tonks had remained far enough from their respective charges to give them a modicum of privacy, but close enough to dispatch any potential threat as well as grasp the crux of their current conversation. Deciding he was uniquely suited to bringing this matter to a close without further embarrassment, or hilarity, as the case may be, the blond man increased his stride until he fell in step with his daughter and the still-perplexed Potter lord. "The shop is protected by an age-based perception ward," he explained, quietly. "Now that you're of age, you can see it in all its prurient glory."

Harry nodded in understanding, slightly disgruntled about the fact that even after seven years in the magical world he routinely encountered situations that made him feel like an ignorant first year.

Noticing the boy's lightly furrowed brows, Sebastian quipped dryly, "Truly, between the risqué club and entertainment and the Prophet headquarters, that whole section of the Alley is a regular den of iniquity." Greengrass' effort was rewarded with a brief smile. Mission accomplished.

Like most of the other shops on the Alley, Flourish and Blotts had replaced their usual display of gold-embossed spell books out front with election materials. 'Prosperity, not Austerity!' one sign could be heard proclaiming from down the street, 'Moving Magical Britain Forward,' blared another. Crowded next to these were posters touting, 'Strong, Stable Leadership Standing up for Magical Britain,' and declaring this to be a 'Time for Common Sense.' Still other advertisements warned people, 'Don't just hope for a better life, vote for one!' With its aggressively bright shades of red, blue, and green and cacophony of movement and sound, it was almost like walking by a tropical bird enclosure at a zoo.

As they approached the booksellers, King Ragnuk's earlier words about his heretofore latent magical affinity were suddenly at the forefront of his mind. For, in contrast to the blunt-force magicks he had encountered up the road, the wards that tickled Harry's skin as the group crossed the familiar threshold of Flourish and Blotts were warm, and dare he say... welcoming; delicate and precise. In fact, he somehow knew instinctively from the burst of citrus and sunshine that had emanated from the friendly shop-owner when he had ushered them inside that Mr. Flourish had laid them himself.

Still lost in thought and marveling at the bizarre knowledge he would evidently be privy to going forward, Harry failed to notice the increasingly concerned looks being directed his way by the others or the fact that Daphne had discreetly tightened her grip on his arm. Fortunately, the sound of the door closing behind them jolted him into the present. Looking around, it struck Harry, as ever, that this was no Waterstones, no matter the whimsical atmosphere the muggle chain attempted to cultivate in its multitude of High Street locations. Here, shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather, books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk, books full of peculiar symbols, and a few with seemingly nothing in them at all.

"Alright there, Harry?" Neville inquired, keeping his tone light despite his worry.

"I'm fine," the other wizard replied, looking his friend directly in the eye to convey the silent promise that more would be shared at a later time.

Apprehension soothed by Longbottom's smile, Daphne tossed her dark hair over her shoulder with a deliberate flick and took charge of the shopping expedition.

"Lists out, everyone," she ordered, watching as the boys immediately followed her instruction. Practically beaming as Harry helpfully cast a duplication spell on his parchment and handed copies to Mrs. Tonks, Millie, and her father without being prompted, she was certain that with the extra assistance they would be out of the store in no time, despite the number of books they required. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Daphne saw the knowing smile her patriarch shared with Andromeda. Rude. She would be dealing with him later.

Brushing aside her annoyance, she rattled off the assignments like a seasoned commander, "Harry, you and Andi should see about what we all need for the Basic Magical Combat course. Neville, why don't you and Millie get our books for Basic Potions and Concealment and Disguise, and Daddy and I will grab the material for History of the Dark Arts, since Professor Wellington's reading list takes up nearly 10 inches of parchment on its own. Naturally, if you have anything recommended for your specialization or independent studies, you should pick those up for yourselves as well." Satisfied that everyone understood what to do, she concluded, "Let's try and meet by the till in half-an-hour."

Being more than passingly familiar with his daughter's...quirks, particularly when it came to various retail activities, he wasn't surprised to see Daphne take point, so to speak. He was, however, intrigued, and admittedly rather pleased, by the fact that the others - especially Lord Potter- had so readily followed her lead, as he felt mutual respect and equality were very important in any partnership, be it professional or romantic. Noting that his eldest appeared to be debating how many copies of the optional text, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, to place in her charmed shopping basket, he consulted his list and set about collecting three copies each of Viridian's Jinxes, Hexes, and Curses through the Ages; Merovingian Magick; and The Inheritance of Rome: A History of European Magic 400-1000. He saw that she had opted for two and was now tossing copies of The Burgundian Code and Magic and Religion of the Ancient Near East in with them. He knew Agnes would be thrilled, and he was honestly looking forward to the opportunity to peruse a few of these himself.

Studying the parchment again, he hypothesized, "The Viking text is probably going to be in the ancient runes section."

"That makes sense. Could you get that one?" Sebastian inclined his head, distracted, and his daughter seized the moment she had been waiting for. "It's just...I am fairly certain that they keep Godelot's Magick Moste Evile and the one about the Black Arts behind the counter. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to ask Urion Flourish for a book on demonology and necromancy, do you?" The blue eyes they shared reflected her apparent amusement at the situation.

"But it's perfectly acceptable for you to purchase such a thing?" he inquired with a frown, failing to see the humor.

"I plan to have Lord Potter accompany me to the register, you see." He raised a blond eyebrow at her, and she gave an uncharacteristic shrug. "Everyone knows that he is attending the Auror Academy this year, and I doubt anyone would dare accuse the Man-Who-Conquered of not-so-secretly conspiring to practice unsavory magicks in his basement, even if that weren't the case," she joked. Abruptly catching on to the fact that he was truly concerned for her, she continued more seriously, "Father, with such heavily regulated texts, you know the Head Auror or the Ministry must provide a list of authorized buyers, and there is surely a whole process, likely involving a blood quill, to guarantee anyone seeking one of these volumes is exactly who they are claiming to be. I mean, Flourish and Blotts is the only bookseller with a license to carry those texts in all of England, they have to have an effective system for distributing controlled material."

"Your reasoning is sound, dear," he conceded.

"Of course it is," she responded, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. "Now, the Runes section is back there, I believe, and Harry and Mrs. Tonks should be just a couple of aisles over that way," she informed him, gesturing to her right. "I'll meet you at the front of the store in a few minutes, then, shall I?"

Having already gathered The Art of Magical War by Sun Tzu and Battle Magic by Pierce for the group, Harry and Andromeda scoured the shelves for the Auror Spell Compendium and the book about magical combat techniques. "I don't see them anywhere," the chatelaine for House Black complained. "The authors go directly from D'Mello to Duncan... there is no Dougherty! I am going to ask someone. Will you be okay over here?"

"I might actually take a quick look back there," Harry told her, trying to play it cool.

She turned in confusion and spotted the corner devoted to fortune-telling. Shooting him an appraising look and then an approving smile that he didn't quite know how to take, she vowed to return shortly.

Making his way self-consciously to the small table at the back of the shop, Harry was hoping to find something useful about scrying before anyone saw him. Unfortunately, his initial search yielded little, though he couldn't help but note that many of the divination standbys that had been present in this section in the summer before his third year remained in circulation, including the thick, black leather-bound book on Death Omens and the crowd favorite, Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul, that Ron and Seamus had always found hysterically funny.

Harry had just put the rather odd book back on its stand when a droll voice announced from behind him, "I understand they have specialized healers for that sort of thing, My Lord."

He whipped his head around, cheeks aflame, "Daphne," he said, tone half acknowledgement, half accusation.

"My apologies for startling you," she offered demurely, though the gleeful mirth dancing in her eyes suggested she was anything but. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No," he admitted, reluctant to go into further detail, "But I am sure the Potter library will have something I can use." Eager to change the subject, he asked, "What about you? Did you manage to locate all of the history books?"

"Nearly," she revealed, clearly still amused at his discomfort. "Which is actually the reason I came looking for you. Given the nature of their content, I thought it best to have reinforcements. I would hate for anyone to jump to the wrong conclusions."

Thinking back to the book list, Harry nodded. He could definitely see her point; a few of those texts had seemed quite dark. "Lead the way," he agreed, offering her a slight bow.

Now fighting a blush of her own, she casually linked her arm through his and headed to the front of the store. After all, they still needed to shop for potions supplies and meet up with everyone for lunch by 1pm, there was no time to waste!

Up Next: Harry and company run into a new teammate while shopping for their supplies, Lavender sorts her man, Sebastian and Andi come to an understanding, and Daphne is introduced to something new at the Tonks' residence. Meanwhile, the Goblins may or may not be up to something.