While I felt like it was kind of good news that we'd confirmed that there were only a couple dozen Death Eaters who would go on missions, the reality of a terrorist group proving they were willing to actually unleash terror profoundly affected the wizarding population of Britain. Coupling teleportation with a proven willingness to cast Unforgivables and produce nearly-unquenchable fire meant that those few terrorists could strike at anyone at any time they were in public.
Maybe I shouldn't have given an accurate description of what had happened to muckraking journalist and frenemy Rita Skeeter: she hadn't misrepresented anything I actually said, but used her exaggerated writing style to really make it clear how close the campsite had been to tragedy. It was central to her argument to explain to everyone just how hard it was to contain and extinguish fiendfyre. When the defensive strategy for an entire population is, "Get Dumbledore, or hope some other powerful wizard can get a suppression ward up in time," that makes people nervous.
Diagon Alley, in particular, was the focus of this worry. While the Ministry had made it a priority to put strong anti-fiendfyre wards up in the magical shopping districts, it was anyone's guess how well they'd work in practice (it wasn't like you could safely test them). So, when the Weasleys and their friends scheduled their pre-school shopping trip, I wound up tagging along as extra security.
"You've got your staff, good," Molly Weasley observed as she led her clan like little ducklings through the wall between the alley and the Leaky Cauldron, where Mathilda and I were waiting to meet them. "Everything else to hand?"
"Mum, leave off," George argued.
"Harry's always ready for battle," grinned Fred.
"It doesn't hurt to check," she argued with the two who were currently her oldest sons present. Percy and Penny had to work, and Charlie and Bill had gone back to their international jobs after the World Cup. "You two are in charge of the youngest. Don't make me regret it!"
"Mum," Ron whined, "I'm almost 15!"
Hermione just rolled her eyes and told him, "We're all staying together anyway." The rest of their year-group friends hadn't made it for the trip, but Hermione had basically become one of the Weasleys over the previous couple of summers. If her and Ron's romantic tension wound up working out, that would probably become permanent. Clearly Molly saw it, but I wondered if Hermione and Ron would be the last to realize that they were basically betrothed already.
"It's fine, Luna and I will be chaperoned by Forge and Gred," Ginny allowed. "You two can stay with Mum, Mathilda, and Harry." The youngest Weasley clearly recognized the opportunity to go off with her fun brothers.
"No, Hermione's right," Molly corrected. "We'll just all stick together. Don't anyone wander off. Shout if you see anything suspicious. Gringotts first!"
For all that it seemed like a big procession, our party of nine was fairly tame for a Weasley shopping trip. Without Percy there to thwart, Fred and George weren't too much trouble; since Mathilda and I were actually amused by their antics, they didn't get the negative attention that they truly craved from their big brother. Nonetheless, Molly took only Ginny into the depths of the bank to help her with the money, while we waited in the lobby. Mathilda got her cash from her parents, Hermione just had to walk over to a teller to exchange muggle pounds for galleons, and I didn't have enough money to justify a bank account, really.
Well, I was feeling a little flush, since the royalties from The Prince's Potions had come in early. This would be the first year that it was the recommended textbook for NEWT students, and I'd already given copies to Fred and George as their early Christmas presents. I still felt a little guilty that I was getting paid a pretty reasonable income from just transcribing the work of deceased potions prodigy Severus Snape. The wizarding world needed to be dragged into at least the 19th century as far as intellectual property laws went.
I accompanied Hermione over to the teller line while Mathilda and the twins kept watch on Ron and Luna. "How's the summer going?" I asked.
"Great!" she smiled. "My parents had a dental conference, so I spent August at the Burrow. It's been really fun to see how wizards live when they're not at school. Molly has been teaching me and Ginny some useful charms for the home that they don't teach at school. Though I still don't think it's fair that that kind of thing gets around the Trace."
Personally glad to be well-quit of having my magic monitored by the Ministry, I nodded, "The more I've looked into it, the more impressed I am that the Trace works at all. If it could work through wards and with multiple other wizards in proximity, I'd be really impressed. But I bet Molly has the house wards set up to alert her when the twins do magic they're not supposed to."
"She does," Hermione acknowledged. "I think she's worried about how she's going to keep track of them when they turn 17 in April."
"I'll just have to make sure they have enough homework to keep them busy through spring break, at least," I grinned.
"Is it weird, that you're basically going to be a professor this year?" she asked, as we took another step up in the line. There was, of course, only one line for all the muggleborn who wanted to exchange money.
I considered it, and said, "It probably would have been, if I hadn't already been doing it some last year. I basically see it as a chance to get back onto campus to see 'Thilda more often. And you guys, of course."
"So you might not do it once she graduates?" she asked, with a slightly worried smile. "Only, I was kind of relying on your help in my OWL year…"
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, my jedi apprentice," I grinned back at her. I was vaguely aware that the Star Wars comics had another word for apprentices, but I couldn't remember what it was.
"I just don't want to have to learn from you as a force ghost," she giggled.
That reminded me, and I dropped my voice, "Did you get a chance to experiment with the ring?" I'd given her one of the Deathly Hallows that we'd gotten away with during Voldemort's rebirth ritual. A stone that could summon shades of the dead that wanted to talk you into going back with them wasn't really safe in the hands of anyone that had loved ones they longed to be with.
She gave a slight huff, and admitted, "A little, with Professor McGonagall. She locked it up for me at school, so it would be safe. I don't think it does what the legends say." She dropped her voice as well, so the people waiting in line near us wouldn't overhear. "I could only call up wizards, and only ones I'd met before. And they didn't seem to know anything I didn't already know that I could prove. We tried Professor Quirrell, and he couldn't really even explain why he'd, you know." She shook her head. "I don't know if I'm not powerful enough, or doing something wrong, or…"
"Or it isn't as good as promised. It's just a trap," I finished. In legend, it had pretty much been explicitly designed to drive its wielder to suicide, for thwarting Death in the first place.
"That was my worry, yes," she acknowledged.
"I guess, keep trying. Sorry it's not going to put you in touch with Einstein or anything." That complicated things for me. There were people at the castle that had known Regulus Black, but if all the stone could do was call up phantoms that were ultimately designed to try to convince you to kill yourself, it wouldn't help us find where he'd hidden the horcrux he stole.
On the other hand, I preferred a world where a single magical artifact couldn't rip souls from their eternal rewards to answer petty questions (and, also, disprove a whole host of religions that assumed your spirit would be reincarnated or otherwise not indefinitely available for conversation).
We finally got to the front of the line and Hermione got her money changed at an exorbitant transaction fee. "Does it cost that much every time?" I asked as we walked back to the Weasleys.
"Since first year," she nodded.
"You know… I get paid in a weird mix of pounds and galleons, and Remus doesn't really care what we pay him in for rent. Maybe I should start changing money for my friends," I thought out loud. But not too loud: the goblins probably didn't appreciate that kind of talk.
"I could certainly start mentioning it to the muggleborn at school," Hermione agreed, appreciating a potential way to avoid goblin usury.
As we walked back up on the group, Luna was explaining to Mathilda, "The magazine is doing so much better now that so many theories about the fae have proven true. Daddy is thinking about expanding coverage. I know you're planning to go into the Ministry, but… we could probably use some more creatures experts on staff."
"What do you think, Harry?" Mathilda asked me. "Mathilda Grimblehawk: In Search of the Snorkack?"
"Maybe a pen name?" I suggested. "Respected magizoologist by day, secret reporter on the dangerous creatures they don't want to tell you about by night."
She nodded, "Makes sense. But you don't think 'Thilda Dresden' will be good enough?" I must have blanched because she grinned, "Your face!"
"He'll be ready eventually," Hermione grinned, and Luna nodded. Fred, George, and Ron wisely kept their input out of it.
"I'm keeping my last name anyway," Mathilda shrugged. "But the pen name's not a bad idea. Maybe something classy. Something they'll never associate with Grimblehawk. I've always liked Rodriguez."
"You'd need more of a tan to pull off being Spanish," Hermione mused.
Before they'd finished working out a first name for Mathilda's secret reporter identity, Molly and Ginny returned with the money from their own vault, and we headed out to do shopping. It was going pretty well until Ron, consulting his school supplies list, asked, "Why do we need dress robes this year?"
"Us, too," Fred confirmed.
Ginny looked at her own list and asked, "Why don't I need dress robes, if the boys need them?"
Mathilda's eyes were wide as she consulted her list, "Wait, I need them too. School dance!?"
"Could be," Molly allowed, probably also in on the not-so-secret tournament, of which this was likely some feature. "Ronald, you're growing so fast, I think we should look over at Gaberlunzie's for something that will fit you."
I was familiar with that shop from the last summer, when Percy and I had basically gone into every store in Diagon Alley, bored there for a week. It was basically a thrift shop, if you were being polite. It was not going to improve Ron's hatred of always getting secondhand things. It would be especially embarrassing if he had his first big date with Hermione in a ratty tux. I glanced up at Mathilda and saw she'd come to the same conclusion. She suggested, "Harry, you can take the boys. Molly and I will see if we can find something for Ginny and Luna? Maybe they'll get asked."
Molly Weasley distracted and drawn off, I told Ron, "I already got Fred and George their early Christmas present. I can't really get you something Malfoy fancy, but we can probably do better than the thrift store, yeah?"
"Thanks, Harry," he told me, as we passed Gaberlunzie's Garments on the way to Gladrags, and he saw the kind of thing that shop put in the window. There was some elaborate robe that looked like a moth-eaten purple curtain with lace hanging up there.
Of course, when I noticed how much the dress robes cost, I started to seriously wonder if I could salvage the set I'd gotten the previous year for my own use. With some more mending and cleaning charms, you'd probably barely be able to tell that I'd been beaten to a pulp by vampires and a possessed animagus. Right?