Chapter 2
First Encounters
After a night's sleep, Harry had pretty much forgotten whatever he'd gone to bed sulking about and was in good spirits when they arrive by floo at Diagon Alley. He even managed to pronounce the place clearly this time. The sun was blisteringly hot, yet again. Around their group, the street was heaving with students and their parents and guardians, all shopping for the start of the term.
Unsurprisingly, a fair few familiar faces stood out amongst the crowd, given the last minute nature of the Hogwarts letters given out to returning eighth years. Harry and Ron were practically bowled over by Padma and Parvati Patil, who snagged them both in a pincer move before excitedly telling them they'd be seeing them in a few weeks and disappearing as quickly as they'd appeared.
Hermione looked nonplussed at this exchange, though she did raise an eyebrow at Ron's bemused expression. Across the street, Dean Thomas waved and gave them a thumbs up.
"'Arry!" boomed a voice from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, which Harry saw was now being run by a young man who must surely be Florean's son. Hagrid emerged clutching a towering five-scoop cone covered in raspberry sauce, which had already started to melt down his knuckles.
"Hagrid!" they chorused.
"Reckoned I'd catch you lot 'ere. "
After the usual round of hugs (Ron was left gasping with his hands on his knees while Hermione patted his back sympathetically) they decided to split off with Hagrid for a bit while Molly and Arthur headed to Gringotts with Ginny.
George and Lee left to open Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for the day - George tended to open the shop at ten and close around six or seven. As he put it, there was no way he was getting up for a nine o'clock opening time. Not now, not ever. Over his dead body. Then he'd cackle, bitterly.
Over the summer, Ron had been helping him out a bit as well, though obviously not today. He'd taken quite a liking to inventing wizarding games and puzzles, and had even helped George start a new product line of mechanical mice that sang Quidditch anthems if you wound the pegs on their backs in the right way.
They decided to pick up their robes at Madame Malkin's first. On the way, Hagrid was full of stories about the Hogwarts restoration project. Huge areas of the castle had been destroyed and it'd taken an army of Ministry officials and volunteers to rectify the damage.
"There's still plenty tah do, af'er all tha'," he said. "I'd steer clear 'f the left wing o' the dungeons, mind. Weird stuff goin' on round the greenhouses - plants huv a life o' there own and they've uh, mounted a resistance 'gainst the pruning team. An' 'alf the roof's caved in on the Astronomy tower."
Hermione groaned. "Oh a do hope they fix that soon. I'm taking Astronomy."
"Anyway, nuff abou' Hogwarts. How's the love life, eh? Gettin' on are we?"
It was Ron's turn to groan.
"It's ah... uh... Hagrid, d'you mind?"
The half-giant chuckled into his beard. "Alrigh', tha' good is it? An' 'Arry? How's you and the young Weasley lass?"
They'd levelled with the shop door at the stage and Harry pretended not to hear as he bustled through the door. He was not, repeat not about to tell Hagrid the reason that he and Ginny had split up. In fact, he hadn't even told Ron. To be fair, Ron might be one of the last people on the planet he'd tell. He knew Hermione had managed to wrestle the information out of Ginny though, but she'd been sworn to silence. He could only hope it would stay that way.
Madame Malkin's eyes widened as he entered the fabric-bedecked shop. She pinned a fold of fabric in place in the mannequin and hurried forward.
"For some reason I wasn't expecting you, Mister Harry Potter. Figured you would be living the celebrity life now or some such, I'm sure."
Harry felt his smile was forced, but he persevered. "Nope! One more year of Hogwarts. Need to get my N.E.W.T.s and well, didn't get much of a chance to go to class last year what with everything."
"Oh of course not! Very good."
The others piled in behind him. She sized them up with an appraising eye. "I suppose you'll all want school robes as well, is it? Dress robes, too?"
"I'm not sure we'll need them-" Hermione started.
Hagrid grunted and said, "Actually... we thought we migh' have a wee bash at the end o' the year roun' Christmas time. Don' have to get them now, but if yer wantin' to migh' be an idea. Was on yer letter. Celebrate the vict'ry, let your hair down an' tha'."
Harry shuddered. Not another Yule Ball. Not again. And he couldn't exactly ask Ginny to go. So just to add to the fact that he'd have another year's worth of lessons to cram for (he wasn't sure he could remember half of anything he'd learned in sixth year), there was the small problem of finding a date. His history with girls being anything to go by, he was headed for yet another disastrous series of mortifying events.
Hermione, on the other hand, perked up at this news. "That sounds rather wonderful, actually."
Hagrid whispered conspiratorially, "An now yer of age, they've said there'll be drink for the eighth years. Can be havin' you fight a war fir us an' not let ye enjoy a nip or two."
Undeterred by this news, Ron was looking downcast.
"Do I have to learn how to dance?" he moaned. Harry glanced at him, gratefully. At least he wasn't the only one dreading another evening of awkward socialising. He did have a thought, though.
"OK, then yes, school robes for all of us - and dress robes, too. For me and Ron."
Madame Malkin nodded and turned to the rows of black Hogwarts robes on the rack.
Ron's jaw gaped. "No you can't, Harry. It's too expensive, and I don't need them."
"Yes you bloody do," Harry laughed. "I don't remember your robes from the wedding being in any kind of good nick after traipsing through the woods and being crammed in a sack for months.
"And not to mention you have Hermione to impress with how handsome you'd look in a proper set of dress robes." He waggled his eyebrows.
"H-handsome?"
Hermione joined in. "Oh yes Ronald, this is your opportunity to sweep me off my feet," she teased.
"That's it settled then!" Harry punched Ron lightly on the arm. "Let's turn you into a dapper Dan."
"A - what?"
"I'll come back for my robes in a bit. I think I'll go pick up a new set of quills. Meet you at Flourish and Blotts in an hour!" Hermione waved and disappeared. Hagrid chuckled and settled himself on the bench by the window. He'd been told by the proprietor to keep his half eaten ice cream as far as possible away from the merchandise.
Madame Malkin fussed over them for a bit, sizing their robes and drawing up the hem for Harry's. He was about half a foot shorter than Ron, and it seemed set to stay that way, much to his chagrin. In the end, for his dress robes Harry chose a simple set of black robes with a black corduroy strip down the trouser legs, and a silver and black patterned silk lining on the cloak and collar. He told Ron to pick whatever he liked. Madame Malkin took pity on his lost expression and in the end practically shoved the boy into the dressing area with a teetering bundle of options stacked so high he was bent double backwards, and from one angle looked as if he was a walking laundry pile on legs with a carrot-orange top poking out the other end.
When Ron emerged in a purple number festooned with peacock feathers, it took Harry at least a full minute to catch his breath he was laughing so hard.
"And here I thought this was the one," Ron said, cocking his hip and grinning. He twirled and blew a kiss over his shoulder before rolling his eyes and closing the curtain again.
While Ron was trying on the next outfit, Harry counted out the coins to pay for his stuff. He had plenty for Ron's dress robes and the books and things he needed to get, and then some left over. Was there anything else he needed? He ran through the list.
"Thinkin' of gettin' another owl?" Hagrid asked, wiping his hands on a yellow handkerchief covered in repeating daisies.
Ouch. That stung a bit. Images of Hedwig's white wings, soaring, crossed his mind. Then that night: the flash of green. He never even got to say goodbye.
Hagrid caught sight of his expression before he could tell his face to shut up.
"Sorry, don' mean tah' pry. A sore subject. Ah should've never brought it up. It's jus'. She was a beaut she wis, jus' - a familiar's impor'ant, you know? Gives you somethin' tae look after. An' really it's the animals that look after us, like my Fluffy and Norbert an Fang, o' course, an' even the Blast-ended Skrewts..." Hagrid blew his nose into the daisies, making the pattern race to the hem of the handkerchief like blown dandelion seeds. "What ah'd've done without 'em I don't know."
"Um. Yeah. I might get something. Maybe not an owl this time?"
"Thas good, 'Arry. Thas a good idea."
Just then, the door chimed. Harry glanced round to see who had come in only to freeze, sweat springing to his palms.
"Malfoy," he practically barked. Shit.
To be fair, Draco Malfoy looked equally pleased to see him. That was to say, not at all. Except... except instead of the usual sneer, insult and general, well, Malfoyness, this time he just stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes as if he were in pain, nodded, opened his eyelids, and looked around for Madame Malkin.
She was nowhere to be seen. Malfoy edged slightly to the left, away from Hagrid and Harry's bench. He craned his neck, as if that would help.
Harry gulped. It was the first time he's seen Malfoy since his trial. This is not normal. This is anything BUT normal. I can hardly call out Draco Malfoy for being a slimy, traitorous, bullying, evil git in the middle of a shop, where he's allowed to be for fuck's sake. How can he just be standing there like that? Like nothing over the last year even happened. Hell, the last seven years. What the actual-
"Ta-da!" Ron cried, sweeping open the red velvet curtain.
Oh. Fuuuuuck.
Before Harry could stop him, Ron launched himself across the room, fists flying. Malfoy yelped as the red-headed tornado pummelled into him and they both crashed into a rack of first-year robes, scattering them to the ground and entangling both boys in a maelstrom of robes, hangers and bent metal poles. Ron didn't let up for a second in raining his bare fists down on Malfoy's arms, which he was using to cover his head.
"What in the name of GODRIC!" yelled Madame Malkin as she shot out of the back room.
Harry winced and ran towards the tussling pair. He dragged at Ron's collar, not caring as the stitches popped and ripped with the effort of hauling the larger boy off. He was practically screaming in Ron's ear, but his best friend was blind with fury, still swinging at the air even as Harry, with an almighty effort, hurled him back onto his arse with a thud.
"Thas ENOUGH!" Hagrid bellowed, hefting Ron to his feet from behind. Unfortunately he'd stepped in the edge of Ron's cloak as he did so, causing the entire thing, which Harry had already weakened at the seams, to rip in half as he lifted Ron by the armpits. Ron was left, dangling from Hagrid's great paws, in the shirt, waistcoat and trousers, which Harry noticed were torn on one knee as well.
"Oop, sorry 'bout tha'."
"Absolutely out of order!" Madame Malkin was shrieking. She waved her wand, practically poking Harry up the nose with it. "I don't care WHO you think you are. I will have none of this violence in my store. You will pay for your purchases and the damage, and get out!"
Harry held up his hands defensively and nodded. He turned to where Draco Malfoy was sprawled. His lip was burst. And there were signs of a real shiner emerging around his left eye. His normally perfect blonde hair was in total disarray - it was longer than Harry had ever seen him wear it, making him look even more like his father than he did before. He was shaking.
Unthinking, Harry offered him a hand. Malfoy stared at it for a second before baring bloody teeth in a false smile, batting it away and struggling to his feet himself. He slicked back his hair with both hands, wiped his lip and stalked out the door without a word.
In fact, he hadn't said a single word the entire time.
Ron eyes were flashing with anger. His grazed fists shook at his sides. Strands of his hair had escaped from their tie and dangled infront of his eyes, reminding Harry, for a moment, of Sirius Black. Through gritted teeth he finally managed to speak. His voice was low, choked with rage.
"Hagrid. Put me down, please."
"Yah won' go chasin' after 'im, will yah?"
"No."
"Alrigh'."
Hagrid plunked Ron back on his feet. The dress robes, which were a crushed velvet green with a white shirt, were ruined. Shame as they would have looked rather nice if the cloak part weren't ripped entirely in two pieces.
"I'm not going to be able to manage this, Harry." Ron shook his head like a dog. He splayed his fingers, opening and closing them as the feeling of bruised knuckles reached the bit of his brain that could feel pain. "A whole year without killing the git? I won't make it."
Harry sighed. "You'll make it. We just need to ignore him. Come on, let's get out of here."
He ended up buying the dress robes. Maybe someone at Hogwarts or Molly or something could fix them. Madame Malkin wasn't going to let Ron try on any more after that display, so he was a bit stuck either way.
Malfoy hadn't done much damage in return - he hadn't had the chance - but Ron still looked a bit worse for wear by the time they caught up with Hermione outside the bookshop. Of course, she noticed something was up right away.
"Why, Ronald," she said, peering up at his thunderous face from beneath two knitted eyebrows. "Why - pray tell - do you look as if you've been dragged through a hedge backwards. What exactly happened?"
"Got in a fight."
Hermione's eyes widened. She looked appalled. "With Harry?"
Harry grimaced. "Not me. Malfoy turned up. I couldn't stop him - your boyfriend's pretty fast when he wants to be."
She nodded, understanding dawning.
"Saw red, 'Mione." Ron's face was morphing into an abashed, if resolute, expression.
"Yes, well. I hope that got it out your system because I don't think we'll be allowed to just run up an punch every Slytherin we see once we get to Hogwarts, no matter our history. I mean, obviously we shouldn't be doing that anyway..."
Harry considered their options. He put an arm around Ron's neck. "We can pull a few harmless pranks though, I reckon."
Ron's face lit up. "You reckon?"
Harry nodded.
"I've got to get to George's, he's got some wicked stuff that'd be perfect," Ron said, perking up a bit.
"Great plan!" Harry clapped Ron on the back.
The pair chatted excitedly about the boundless opportunities for pranks the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had to offer, and the fact that without some dark plot or other to keep them occupied, there would be plenty of chances to put together some elaborate and humiliating tricks to sate at least something of their desire for revenge. It was silly, but Harry could see the conversation taking the edge off Ron's temper, so he encouraged him. Even Hermione cottoned on and joined in, suggesting a combination of the jelly legs jinx and a well-placed cream pie.
"Got the idea off a 'funniest clips' show." She winked at Harry.
Hagrid spent the whole time pretending not to hear anything.
By the time Molly and Ginny caught up with them, Ron was cheerful again. They'd quickly healed his hands so no-one would notice evidence of the altercation.
Hagrid sighed with relief at the sight of them. Harry got the distinct impression he was glad to hand off care of the three of them to another sensible adult. They were all of age, of course, but he could see why Hagrid still figured they needed supervising. The half-giant squeezed them into a breathless embrace once more before ambling away with a "cheerio."
They whizzed round Flourish and Blotts in record time - the queues just seemed to melt away in front of them, for some reason - and after stopping at the Weasleys' joke shop, they were headed back in the direction of the ice cream parlour to catch the floo home. Only then did Harry remember his conversation with Hagrid. The one before the Malfoy Incident.
"Um, I wonder. Could we go to The Magical Menagerie?"
"Of course dear," Molly replied. "Thinking of anything in particular?"
"Not sure. Just. I can't get an owl. Not yet anyway."
Tears welled in he eyes. "Oh no of course not, love. Yes, let's have a little look then. Pick out something that speaks to you."
They bundled in. The place was mostly empty of people, but stuffed to the brim with all manner of creatures. Harry deliberately didn't turn his head as a dopey looking barn owl with sad eyes hooted at him. He went over to the far wall and started perusing the terrariums and cages. He paused at a rather sweet looking tabby kitten, thought of Crookshanks and moved on. A rat didn't seem like a great idea either. He'd spend the whole time paranoid it'd turn into a Death Eater.
"What about a toad?" Hermione offered.
"I hardly think Harry wants a toad, 'Mione." Ron said.
She huffed. "Right, well perhaps a different sort of bird? A raven or-"
"No. No birds." Harry shook his head so fast his glasses slipped down his nose. He pushed them up with his finger. "I just want something small really. Easy to take care of. Doesn't need a lot of feeding..."
His eyes were drawn to a long, low tank in the corner. He crouched down. The label read:
FOR SALE. Hog Nose. Female. Twenty-five inches but will grow to approx. forty-five inches in two to three years. Super Arctic Western Morph. Pre-owned. Ask about our discount, today!
"What's in there, Harry?" Ginny asked.
"Not sure..." Harry said peering into the gloom. There. Two jet black eyes looked back at him, unblinking. A snake. It had a flat, upturned nose - ah, Hog Nose, that made sense - and was ivory coloured with irregular grey and black splotches spaced out along its body. For a snake, it looked pretty darned cute. And it reminded him of someone or something familiar, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Hello," Harry said, quietly.
"You ssspeak." The snake edged forward from the hollow log where it had been resting.
"Yep. What's your name?"
"Hmm. My old mistressss called me Miss Piggy."
Harry snorted.
"Oh dear..."
"I alssso went by-" Here the snake hissed a string of unintelligible sounds, even to Harry's Parseltongue-attuned ear "-among my brood mates."
"Would you mind if I gave you a different name? That is if you'd like to come with me? I think me and my friends would struggle to remember your birth name."
"Come with you? Yesss, I'd like that very much. Thisss place is full of creaturesss that hoot and howl all night. I have not resssted well in sssome time."
"Brilliant." Harry stayed crouching for a moment, thinking. Then he marched over to the shopkeeper. He was a stooped man in a green apron.
"I'd like to take that one please." he pointed. "How much?"
"Will sir be requiring her enclosure and a package of care equipment such as basking lamp, pinkie mice and other such items?"
"Yes, please."
"Then that would come to, ah, let's see, forty two galleons and seven sickles."
He pulled a handful of coins out of his leather pouch. He had enough. Just. The shopkeep pocketed the money and set about dragging the vivarium out of the corner, as well as bagging up various bits and pieces, including a pack of frozen mice. Harry was glad he had experience feeding such things to Hedwig, though the sight of their little pink bodies still made him feel a little ill. By this time Ron, Hermione and the others had all gathered round the enclosure to take a look at Harry's new familiar.
"What you gonna call her?" Ginny enquired.
"Severina. Sev. Sevvy?"
Hermione's lip twitched. "Interesting choice."
"Yeah. Interesting's a word for it," Ron said, wryly. "If it escapes in the night and I find it in my bed I'm going to dangle you upside-down out the North tower in your underwear, mate."
"What?" Harry shrugged and glanced at Mrs Weasley. "Molly said to pick something that speaks to me."