Ch. 3
Harry woke up with a start, not hearing the sounds of the early morning for the pain bursting inside his head, permeating mainly from his famous scar though it seemed to engulf his whole skull. It was remarkable that he managed to keep quiet through the episode as grown men (such as a certain muggle we will call V.D. ...) would have screamed for their mothers at a fraction of it. The reason for this particular malady was that Voldemort had another torture and murder spree somewhere in Brazil and Harry had dreamt it more vividly than ever before. Harry deduced it was Brazil because he was able to understand that the screaming wizards and muggles were speaking in Portuguese... that, and there seemed to be a large river near the township complete with anacondas all coming to Voldemort's side. The sights were indescribably horrid and disgusting and Harry did his best to forget as much of the nightmare as he could. The sounds of muggle children screaming as their bones melted at the behest of a single word and blast from the new Voldemort's gaunt hand was perhaps the worst single memory Harry had ever experienced.
Harry wrote down the notes of the memory on a bit of parchment he had lying next to his bed for just such an occassion, and rolled it up to send with Hedwig to Dumbledore at a more sane time of the day, as it was still before 6 am.
From the summer after his 5th year, he had been keeping some parchment, ink, and a quill handy in order for him to jot down notes from his dreams on Dumbledore and Sirius' suggestion. Back then, Voldemort wasn't as cunning and subtle... rather, he was somewhat rabid in his pursuit of his fiendish goals, which in turn caused Harry to have several dreams sometimes in one night. After the 6th year and until the incident with abyss, the Dark Lord had been surprisingly (and somewhat frighteningly) quiet, and Harry hadn't had too many Voldemort induced nightmares. Of course, this may have been an act of Merlin, whom Harry suspected was acting as a guardian to block out all but the most terrible of nightmares.
Harry was relieved for the small blessing that Ron wasn't lying in his neighboring bed so early in the morning and wasn't there to see the tears that were starting to stream down his cheeks and the blood from his lips, where he had bit down to keep his cries in check. Feeling his glasses on the dresser table, he put them and stumbled out of bed, surprisingly groggy even after the experience. Part of the reason was that he was exhausted from the welcoming he received the night before, which involved exchanging many stories and mugs of butterbeer (homemade, of course) late into the night.
The morning was not getting off to a good start for Harry as he climbed out of his bed at the Weasley's place. The trip from his former -- 'that's a wonderful term', Harry thought to himself while mouthing the word 'former' -- home was rather uneventful. A series of grunts were emitted from Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and Petunia had not bothered to be at home.
Harry had walked into Mr. Weasley's shiny black ministry car with his shrunken mohagany trunk in one pocket of his oversized windbreaker, and his wand in his other, not trusting it to be too far away from his hand. Not even looking behind him once, Harry had climbed into the passenger seat of the car and drove off, possibly unnoticed by all except for a certain feline-o-phile who was peering out of her window. Harry mentally forgave the Dursley's for their vile deeds to him in the past. He promised to himself that he wouldn't hold anything against them for past actions, as they were still family and had given him a home for many years. Harry mused over how he was greeted affectionately by the always warm and kind Molly Weasely two weeks ago and pretty much the whole family. It felt good to be back to what he considered in his heart to be a warm home with the closest thing to a real family he had ever had.
Snapping out of his reverie, Harry trudged downstairs glumly trying to think happy thoughts, like being Seeker, and even considered using an unauthorized charm to alleviate his depression. He sighed as he remembered the case where Bolga the Bountiful had used that charm on herself and had unfortunately gotten addicted to its effects. The end result was quite disturbing and tragic, involving a lot of pet bunnies being crushed from being petted too often and too vigorously and dazed cats stumbling drunkenly out of her cabin after being dressed up in disgustingly cute outfits, out in the wilderness. No one knew quite what was going on over there but Bolga never came out, so say her old friends, and had decorated all of her belongings with yellow "sunshine" ribbons or pink "happy-time" ribbons, or even a mixture of the two. Needless to say, she lost her friends somewhat rapidly soon after and, well, that's a story for another time. Harry shook his head and yawned, wondering why and how he had remembered that obscure story Professor Flitwick had told the class when they were learning the charm last year, which was meant only for extreme feelings of depression at near suicide levels.
Harry made sure he was fully composed and calm as he walked down the final steps of the stairs approaching the dining table where half of the Weasley household were already dressed and eating breakfast.
'Good morning Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George', Harry said in a just-woke-up-and-still-tired sort of voice. 'Odd to see you up so early Ron', he said taking an empty seat at the table.
For the past few years he had spent in the house, he had been used to waking up late (around 9 a.m. or so) and had always found Ron gone. But now, at nearly 6 in the morning this summer, it was really a surprise to see how early his best friend had taken to getting up, which was so atypical for him. Even at school it was a daunting trial to wake the redhead up before 8 am.
Fred answered the implied question when Ron just ignored the statement, saying "Our little Ronnikins has been up at the crack of dawn every morning this summer".
George, rising up to take his and Fred's dishes into the sink, continued the line of thought saying, "and dear Mum won't let us be, insisting that we should also should get up bright and early to make the most of our day".
Fred jumped back in, concluding the joint statement with an emphatic 'she obviously doesn't appreciate young inventor-slash-entrepreneurs such as ourselves need our rest in order work at optimal efficiency', in mock seriousness.
Mrs. Weasely just 'humphed' and didn't even turn around at the weak jibe. Even Harry had to snort at this performance, as it seemed below par for the two tricksters. In truth, Harry had privately been expecting some funny drama and theatrics out of the two in the morning, as he had come to expect of them, but it was early in the morning so that would explain it. In his heart, Harry knew the truth of the matter was that the dark times upon them had taken its toll on even the most carefree of hearts, and this was living proof.
"Why did you wake up so-," Ron started, but he was abruptly cut off by Mrs. Weasley who had noticed Harry's expression when he was walking down the stairs and his bloodshot eyes, and didn't want to aggravate the situation any more than it already was.
"We're going to Diagon Alley today Harry," Mrs. Weasely said crisply, before Harry could ask about Ron's summer work and all that, which was mentioned in Hermione's letter but had completely skipped his mind.
It was the last day before school starts, and they had put off shopping till the last possible moment. The past weeks were spent in traditional, though a bit strained, "fun-in-the-sun" activities. Along with the twins, two of the dream team had pretty much lazed around the house, caused mischief with the lawn gnomes and some grumpy muggle neighbors, and played much quiddich. Not so much as an iota of real work was done, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Weasley who had expected Harry to be a lot more work oriented as he was Head Boy.
"What time did Percy and Mr. Weasley come home?" Harry asked. The two resident Ministry officials were working very diligently and ferociously on the defense of the magical (and muggle, although inconspicuously) nation by setting up wards. Stirrings of trouble abroad also had the Ministry and community nervous, and Britain was working on plans to send Aurors abroad to aid the natives. Minster Malfoy of course opposed this plan and created many barriers in the way of Arthur and others for the policy. As a consequence, the two Ministry Weasleys were bogged down with insane amounts of paper work and bureaucracy to get anything accomplished.
"I think Dad got back around 2 or 3 in the morning," Fred answered grimly. "Percy came at 11, and told us that Dad had to do some more work for the International Auror Aid Plan (IAAP)."
"That man..." Mrs. Weasley began softly, trailing off with a sigh. She supported Arthur, and his work, but that didn't mean she had to support his insane hours!
"Personally, I think it's a good thing Percy spends so much time at work," George said.
"Yeah, with him gone all day, at least we don't have to listen to his constant complaining about the bureaucracy that prevents the "wise" Minister Malfoy from passing the IAAP plan his department (Department of International Cooperatrion) was pushing.
"Boys! Thats enough out of you!"
"Mother, you know that he is blinded by his love for the Ministry and his work!" Fred prodded persistently.
George continued his twin, "He is even to turn a blind eye on everything that the Order of Phoenix accomplished citing that it was a 'minor mistake' on the part of the Ministry!"
"If our great and glorious Deatheater Minister of Magic announced that there was no threat of a rising Voldemort, Percy would believe it in a heartbeat!" Fred passionately concluded.
"You have no idea about how hard Percy has been working Fred and George Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley almost screamed, turning around and glaring at her two antagonizing sons. "He comes home and cries for the sake of the magical world every night! Did you know he leaves for work before I even wake up?! He doesn't eat well, doesn't sleep well and devotes his life for the sake of the people and fear of the Dark Lord. Haven't you noticed the bags under his eyes? The only reason he comes home at all is because Ginny made him promise and on top of that, Arthur forces him to! You do not say things about people you cannot hope to understand!" quite red in the face at this point.
The twins sat back in stunned silence, digesting the new information about Percy. They knew Percy was a little more tired looking and gaunt than usual, but had paid it little heed. Now they hung their heads in shame and whispered apologies to their mum.
Ron exhaled a long breath that he didn't know he had been holding as Mrs Weasley turned away from the twins. And Harry looked up from his plate, feeling guilty for turning the conversation to this topic.
Mrs. Weasley sighed, and said, "Boys, I know you didn't mean it and I'm sorry I snapped at you. Now go up there and change! Today is going to be a busy day. So many things to do, so many things to buy..."
Fred and George nodded their heads as one and jogged up the stairs intent on avoiding their mother's gaze because of their own guilt over their attack on Percy. However, Harry had to cover his smile when he heard one of the two mutter, "Scary..shes more ferocious than a hundred lawn gnomes".
Harry quickly gulped down his pumpkin juice, thanking Mrs. Weasley for another delicious meal (she even made breakfast spectacular) and went upstairs to put on some decent clothes. There seemed to be a certain electricity in the air as he bounded up the stairs that was perceptable to Harry and made him suddenly feel alert. They were gonna meet Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron and everything, but there was something else tugging at Harry's instinct. Something related to the legacy of Merlin was going to go down he suspected... Or maybe he shouldn't have had that fourth sausage link Mrs. Weasley forced onto his plate...
All alone at the table now, Ron muttered "How about those Cannons...", relieving the tension from the drama that had just passed for himself and his mum, who laughed at the words, and finished his juice and followed everyone up the stairs to finish getting ready for the trip ahead.
*****
*****
Diagon Alley was filled with hustle and bustle, as was typical these days. Just last year Deatheaters had attacked the center of wizard commerce but the economy rebounded nicely since the Dark Lord and his minions were unable to penetrate Gringotts, which was paramount in ensuring the financial stability in Britain's magical community. The goblins, along with the dragons and other esoteric creatures kept to defend the hidden wealth, launched a fabulous and still memorable counter-offensive that drove the Deatheaters out of Diagon and even Knockturn alley, where some local shopkeepers actually came out to fight against the Dark Lord, apparently agitated about the "desecration of the dark side". There was much damage to the shops, but the good (or those acting good as in the case of Lucius Malfoy and other socially prominent Deatheaters), all contributed with money and effort to restore the alley back to its former glory, with the exception of it being open only on specific "market days", instead of all the time.
It was this environment of underlying tension, but determined, quiet strength present in the faces and mannerisms of the people that greeted Harry, Ron, Fred and George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George looked around somewhat eagerly for a location for their shop. Because of the war with Voldemort, the two "mad geniuses", as Ron had once dubbed them, were working on inventions that would lead to catching the Dark Lords minions. Officially, they were third class Aurors, but they mostly contributed by finding clever and original ways to manipulate objects to accomplish feats that would help capture Deatheaters. A few years ago they had come up with crazy but helpful inventions like the Deatheater-special Dungbomb, which was used on large masses of hooded and covered Deatheaters. The special quality of the bomb was that a red dye would permeate through any material and go straight to the skin of any with the dark mark. This was done with the assistance of Professor Snapes dark mark, much to the latter's reluctance. The red dye went all over the skin in all parts of the body and magically glowed, so it was hard to mask with make up or ordinary charms. Another benefit was that it lasted for at least one or two months before it got weak and dispersed. This was extremely helpful in detecting undercover Deatheater spies in ordinary wizard society, and had earned the twins an Order of Merlin, third class award each, although it wasn't very well known to the public so as not target the family by Deatheaters. However, they could now afford to take a break from the dangerous ministry work because Deatheater activity in Great Britain had surprisingly declined the past summer, which was almost worse than having them attack every week in some semblance of a pattern to some.
Harry and the Weasleys headed off to Gringotts, the International renowned Wizarding Bank, first off to collect money to cover the school supplies, and several extra treats as well.
Security at the great bank was tight, more than any of them had seen before. Goblin Special Forces complete with armor designed to repulse basic level hexes and curses and large gruesome looking cutlasses stood at the foot of the stairs looking menacing, glaring at pedestrians who dared to look twice at them. As the small party reached the bank, a middle aged and scarred Goblin screened them for traces of dark magic with a special bone-shaped detector.
Finishing ten minutes later, he finally, and grudgingly, grunted "You may pass", and the other guard Goblins stepped aside to let them enter.
"Whoa...", Ginny gasped, echoed soon after by her brothers. If security outside was tight, inside it was simply awesome in its magnitude. There were two ogres with four goblin "supervisors" standing on one side, and on the other there was a semi-tamed (as none can really be tame) dragon. The party shuffled through slowly, daunted by the fearsome creatures around them. Harry and the Weasleys split up with Harry going to find a banker to take him to his vault and the Weasleys going to theirs. Fred and George had a seperate account, and they were unsuccessfully trying to convince Mrs. Weasley to use their money. Unfortunately being a Weasley entailed being stubborn, even when dealing with her own children so she refused emphatically.
"Can I help you?" an old Goblin asked Harry in a guttural voice.
"Take me to the Potters vault", Harry responded, handing the old Goblin his key. As he was by himself this time, Harry decided he would try to investigate his large vault and see if there were any possessions or heirlooms his parents, or other ancestors, left for him. Secretly, he was hoping to find the staff of Merlin, but he dared not to get his hopes up.
Harry's banker stepped out from behind the counter and said, "Follow me", as he led Harry to the trademark Gringotts carts, though with another security wizard in tow.
Harry followed the heavily wrinkled humanoid down to the cart area and stepped into the cart. Harry braced himself as the cart jettisoned from the docking place where the carts were kept seemingly haphazardly.
"Whooooooaa", Harry gasped from the exhilaration coming from the ride down into the depths of a random seeming tunnel. Harry was thrilled at the ride this time, having overcome his initial trepidations from the first few times he had taken the carts down to the vaults, and now was eagerly looking around for any of the dragons that were supposed to be guarding the wizard gold hidden in the various vaults that he passed by.
"Here's your vault, Mister Potter", the old goat of a Goblin rasped to Harry. Harry opened the circular door with his key, and stepped inside the vault, which automatically was lit up by magic. He looked in appreciation at amount of wealth lying before him not only in the form of sacks upon sacks of galleons, sickles, and knuts, but also in the form of jewel encrusted goblets and a beautiful golden harp that he was sure was magical. Maybe that was because the little angel figurine on the top of it was smiling at Harry and winking.
The vault was about the size of the Dursley's living room, which is to say that it wasn't especially super sized; it was still grand and impressive for a room dedicated to one family's wealth. Harry walked on top of heaps of galleons, inspecting various trinkets along the way that were on shelves or scattered among the coins, such as a little golden dragon that flew in small languid circles and a book in dark midnight blue binding entitled simple charms. As much as he valued Ron and Hermione, he would never give anyone any of his heirlooms, though feeling guilty at this thought, he took out an extra twenty galleons for presents for their respective birthday presents.
Harry continued down the line of items on a shelf admiring many of the little treasures but afraid to touch any of them. Harry was afraid of damaging any of the objects (or get damaged himself by them) by physically handling them so he simply looked at them, etching them in his memory so he would have something pleasant to think about after waking up from his nightmares, or to produce a Patronus. A golden chain was at end of the line of items on the northern wall of the room, with beautiful sparkling blue gem the size of a dime on its end. Harry found himself attracted to the amulet for some inexplicable reason, and unconsciously stretched out his hand to reach it. As his hand approached the chain, the jewel on the end started to glow, becoming radiant and sending blue sparks to his hand while his hand emitted white sparks that seemed to fit perfectly with the blue of the jewel. Continuing entranced, and perhaps still unaware of his own actions, Harry took hold of the chain and placed it around his neck.
Harry suddenly felt a tingling down this spine that bordered on both ecstasy and pain, similar to what Dudley described feeling when he stuck his fork into the electric socket. Harry began to see black spots in his vision, but he focused on the feeling and eventually regained his concentration. As he was about to take off the chain having finally achieved mental awareness, the sensation stopped and Harry was at peace again, only a heaviness in breathing and sweaty palms reminding him that it wasn't all in his imagination.
The chain seemed to lighten his spirits and made Harry feel somehow more complete. He held the amulet, which was no longer reacting to his body, in his hand and considered taking off the chain and putting it back on the shelf where he found it, but instead he tucked the jewel underneath his shirt. Harry took a relatively small sack of wizard money, enough to purchase supplies for school and for some 'extracurricular activities', that happened to involve a ferret and his two ape companions.
With his money bag safely put into the folds of his robes and the blue jewel amulet resting against the skin of his chest, Harry strolled out of his ancestral vault closing the door behind him and stepping into the Gringotts cart, eager to get back above ground.
*****
*****
Harry emerged from the Bank to find a very irate Ron Weasley standing outside by himself, impatiently waiting for one of his best friends to come out from the building.
"What took you so bloody long Harry?!" Ron snapped at his friend, as soon as Harry had reached 'snapping distance' from him. "Lets go to the Leaky Cauldron. We are already 15 minutes late for our meeting with Hermione. Mum and Ginny went ahead with Fred and George to meet up with and to assure her that we would be showing up. Honestly Harry... did the cart break down on you or something? My brother Bill told me a story once about how -
"Ron," Harry interceded calmly as they walked down the Alley amid the countless hurried pedestrians, "you're babbling."
Ron stopped in mid-sentence and also in his tracks, his mouth imitating a fish's remarkably. He recovered hurried along to catch up with Harry, clearly embarrassed as given evidence by his red ears. "Right. Um. Sorry about that mate," he said, as the pair walked briskly to the Leaky Cauldron.
Upon arriving, the two boys saw the rest of the distinctive red-headed family huddled around a table with a single brown puffy haired head with them. They made their way through the crowd of patrons, who were ill tempered about being bumped into by the large red haired teenager, but wisely didn't say anything as, again, he was a very large boy. Harry followed calmly behind his friend, apologizing for spilled drinks and hurt feelings that the victims of Ron's haste were grumbling about.
"Hi Mum", Ron said, approaching the table at last. "Hi Mio-- Hermione". 'Mione had been Ron's nickname for his one time girlfriend for the past year or so, but he didn't feel comfortable saying it right then in front of his family, and with what had happened between the two.
Hermione was uncharacteristically meek, and actually lowered her head slightly at Ron's cool and strained greeting. "Hi Ron," she managed and quickly occupied herself with a sip of her drink.
Harry joined up with the crowd at last, after picking up the last chair that Ron had unconsciously tipped over on his journey through the inn-cum-tavern-cum-restaurant. "Hi Hermione," Harry said in a quiet collected voice, that the Weasley family had come be familiar with over the past two weeks, very different from the Harry of years past.
Hermione, still not looking up towards her two best friends, responded "Hello Harry.
"Come along now children," Mrs. Weasley abruptly said. "Why don't you and Harry get something to drink along with Hermione, Ron" Mrs. Weasley commanded more than asked. "We'll see you dears at Madam Malkin's shop when you are good and ready."
"Yes Mum," Ginny and the twins chorused as they quickly slid out of the booth and slid away, following their mother outside into the warm sunshine of Diagon Alley. Hermione lifted her head quickly at this with a frantic gleam in her eye, but then sighed and focused her attention to the table in front of her.
Harry nudged Ron into the booth on the side opposite to Hermione and then took a seat next to him. Harry snickered internally as he observed Ron's attention never waver from Hermione. Harry then choked back another chuckle when he saw that Hermiones eyes were focused on her drinking glass, which somehow she had charmed to reflect Ron's face into it.
Harry amusedly said, "I need to go get something... from somewhere. I'll meet you guys at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor when you're finished," and he quickly slid and left Ron and Hermione both glaring at his back as he made his escape.
Ron and Hermione both turned back to face each other at the same time looking at each other in the eyes, and then turned away simultaneously, both blushing and quickly looking back down.
Ron cleared his throat and said, "Err, Hermione. I'm really sorry for neglecting you this summer, and I hope we can still work out our relationship...". Ron trailed off seeing a glimmer of a tear in Hermiones eye, and immediately looked back down and sighed, about to start anew.
"OH Ron!" Hermione exclaimed looking back up, rather fiercely, startling Ron in the process. "I'm so sorry for being such a git. I hope you would still be" Hermione paused, and then not quite as ferociously said, "my boyfriend."
"No hard feelings then?" Ron asked her hopefully. His reinstated girlfriend shook her head intensely, causing Ron to give a mighty grin. "Well then, this is for you 'Mione," he said pulling out a jewelry box from inside the folds of his robes...
*****
*****
Half an hour later found Ron and Hermione staring at each other over a shared cup of poppin berry ice cream and a very exasperated Harry was sitting off to the side, thoroughly excluded and exasperated.
"I'm going to Madam Malkins now," Harry said, suddenly rising from his seat. "We've kept your mum waiting long enough as it is.... Ron? Hermione?"
Unfortunately for Harry, there seemed to be a spell around the two that his words couldn't penetrate which left him feeling very abused and neglected.
Harry punched Ron on the shoulder lightly to no effect. Seeing as more force was required, and also because of his frustration at being ignored, Harry reared up and unleashed a powerful blow to Ron's unsuspecting shoulder, knocking the red headed boy to the ground.
"Harry!" Hermione yelled, as she got up quickly and went to Ron's side. "There was no need for that at all!" She picked up Ron and helped him dust of his crumpled and dirty robes.
Ron was still dazed from Hermione's proximity and the force of the blow, so he had nothing to say.
Harry snorted at this and repeated, "I'm going to Madam Malkin's now." He smiled irritatingly, and continued, "don't you think we've spent enough time... talking. Everyone must be quite curious as to what we've been doing all this time, and I just might tell them!
Hermione and Ron both blushed at this and quietly muttered "okay, okay" and followed Harry to the shop, where everyone else had been fitted. Hermione already had gotten her robes, and Mrs. Weasley had taken the liberty of purchasing robes for Ron and Harry from approximate measurements, which were very accurate as she had five boys before Ron.
"Hey Ron, how do you fancy we take a look at the brooms now, before we head back? I want to check if there are any new mods for the Firebolt released," Harry asked his friend.
One of the lesser known but more spectacular features of the Firebolt were that there were some slots available so the broom could later be customized with new features that the company released later. The apparatus was quite ingenious, involving taking out a very small bolt of wood and replacing it with a charmed bolt designated to have a special feature for the broom. To prevent tampering, and to maintain a monopoly, the Firebolt manufacturers had a specially designed magical signature so that only their charmed bolts could be used in the broom.
"Sure!" Ron said enthusiastically, eager to do anything involving brooms, and more importantly quiddich. "Lemme go an' ask Mum."
Just as Ron turned around, a chill swept through Diagon Alley reminiscent of a cold Feburary storm, which was odd because it was the start of August and by all accounts the weather should have been warm and nice consistently.
Ginny turned and shivered pulling her red summer robes close around her and huddled closer to her mum and Hermione, who had elected to forego the pleasures of seeing the latest in quiddich equipment.
Suddenly, a shadow emerged, started from the north side of the alley and expanding southward covering every inch of the alley. Everywhere the shadow touched a bit of frost appeared and people caught in there keeled over and seemed to open their mouths in silent screams of fear, with tears flowing freely from even the oldest of Wizards.
Harry looked up to the source of the shadow and saw the most awesome and terrible single sight he had ever observed in his short but eventful life. Above Diagon Alley flew a white dragon with shimmering bright scales adorning every part of its beautiful body. As the dragon flapped its great wings, artic-cold winds buffeted the helpless crowds beneath it. The extraordinary aspect of this dragon was that it was extremely large, even by standards of dragons. Harry recalled his experiences with Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback, and noted with alarm that it would take at the very least six dragons of that already grand size to fit into the torso of the dragon currently above him, not even counting the long neck and the large maw of the creature. This dragon could have had two dragons the size of the one guarding Gringotts for breakfast. As the great white dragon flew over him, casting the dark shadow over him and his friends, Harry alone remained standing as the others immediately fell to the ground along with others in the alley. Only Ron showed some resistance and while he was forced to his knees, but did not look afraid. Instead, he appeared fierce and angry at the creature that dared to do this to him.
"My God," croaked Mrs. Weasley, her eyes wide and terrified. Her face was almost as pale as the leathery wings of the creature above them, as to match the pallor on the faces of her children, which provided an eerie image because of their sharply contrasting red hair.
Harry looked back up to the Great White above him, coming to the realization that the crowd around him was falling victim to dragonfear. Dragonfear was a power that all dragons possessed, but no dragons had the power to truly terrify people into such a state according what Harry recalled of Hagrid's lecture on the magical creatures. The dragons he was familiar with, like the Common Welsh Green, the Norwegian Ridgeback, the Swedish Short-Snout, and the Chinese Fireball used the power to frighten rabbits and other small prey that they hunted into a docile paralyzed state so they could be easier to pick off, but they could never elicit such a response on life bigger than the size of a deer. This dragon radiated not only dragonfear and coldness, but also Harry could sense a wrongness and evil aura about the creature, as if it was fully aware of its actions and consciously enjoyed the humans' misery.
Harry shivered, but not because of fear of the dragon or the coldness it produced. He shivered because of the realization that the dragon wasn't from this world. 'It must be a creature of the Abyss and is going to the service of its master, Lord Voldemort.'
Turning away from the quiddich store, Harry coolly marched to Flourish and Blotts without having anyone pay attention to him as he needed to pick up something that his friends didn't need to know about, and this was as good an opportunity as he would get. He picked up his textbooks and an extra text on the art of dueling and fighting the dark arts, appropriately titled Dueling and Otherwise Fighting the Dark Arts, Advanced Edition from a dazzled and disoriented clerk, who had some small protection from the dragonfear from being inside of the building. Harry decided to wait inside for his friends rather than see them in their undignified positions. 'I wouldn't want them to see me if I were like this,' flowed Harry's train of thought.
Ten minutes later Ron staggered in, still a little pale, to find Harry calmly waiting by the entrance of the store. He gave the excuse that fear of the dragon made him go inside, although the Great White had very little effect on Harry other than the surprise at seeing such a unique and singularly malicious creature. Eventually, the rest of the family came in. Not mentioning his extra text, he and the rest made their way to the Leaky Cauldron very quietly as young children that were most affected by the dragon were groggily being awoken by their concerned parents.
Harry trudged up to his room, saying good night to his companions, who were all in a dazed and anti-social state, and settled in for a long night, sure to be filled with dreams of terrible things. Feeling the urge, Harry conjured up an illusion of a sugarplum that pranced gaily around his head, for the purpose giving his head not-to-subtle hints to what he wanted to be dreaming of that night. Harry lay down and prayed that the sugarplum treatment worked, and managed to fall asleep right away with a small trickle of drool coming from his mouth.
Harry woke up with a start, not hearing the sounds of the early morning for the pain bursting inside his head, permeating mainly from his famous scar though it seemed to engulf his whole skull. It was remarkable that he managed to keep quiet through the episode as grown men (such as a certain muggle we will call V.D. ...) would have screamed for their mothers at a fraction of it. The reason for this particular malady was that Voldemort had another torture and murder spree somewhere in Brazil and Harry had dreamt it more vividly than ever before. Harry deduced it was Brazil because he was able to understand that the screaming wizards and muggles were speaking in Portuguese... that, and there seemed to be a large river near the township complete with anacondas all coming to Voldemort's side. The sights were indescribably horrid and disgusting and Harry did his best to forget as much of the nightmare as he could. The sounds of muggle children screaming as their bones melted at the behest of a single word and blast from the new Voldemort's gaunt hand was perhaps the worst single memory Harry had ever experienced.
Harry wrote down the notes of the memory on a bit of parchment he had lying next to his bed for just such an occassion, and rolled it up to send with Hedwig to Dumbledore at a more sane time of the day, as it was still before 6 am.
From the summer after his 5th year, he had been keeping some parchment, ink, and a quill handy in order for him to jot down notes from his dreams on Dumbledore and Sirius' suggestion. Back then, Voldemort wasn't as cunning and subtle... rather, he was somewhat rabid in his pursuit of his fiendish goals, which in turn caused Harry to have several dreams sometimes in one night. After the 6th year and until the incident with abyss, the Dark Lord had been surprisingly (and somewhat frighteningly) quiet, and Harry hadn't had too many Voldemort induced nightmares. Of course, this may have been an act of Merlin, whom Harry suspected was acting as a guardian to block out all but the most terrible of nightmares.
Harry was relieved for the small blessing that Ron wasn't lying in his neighboring bed so early in the morning and wasn't there to see the tears that were starting to stream down his cheeks and the blood from his lips, where he had bit down to keep his cries in check. Feeling his glasses on the dresser table, he put them and stumbled out of bed, surprisingly groggy even after the experience. Part of the reason was that he was exhausted from the welcoming he received the night before, which involved exchanging many stories and mugs of butterbeer (homemade, of course) late into the night.
The morning was not getting off to a good start for Harry as he climbed out of his bed at the Weasley's place. The trip from his former -- 'that's a wonderful term', Harry thought to himself while mouthing the word 'former' -- home was rather uneventful. A series of grunts were emitted from Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and Petunia had not bothered to be at home.
Harry had walked into Mr. Weasley's shiny black ministry car with his shrunken mohagany trunk in one pocket of his oversized windbreaker, and his wand in his other, not trusting it to be too far away from his hand. Not even looking behind him once, Harry had climbed into the passenger seat of the car and drove off, possibly unnoticed by all except for a certain feline-o-phile who was peering out of her window. Harry mentally forgave the Dursley's for their vile deeds to him in the past. He promised to himself that he wouldn't hold anything against them for past actions, as they were still family and had given him a home for many years. Harry mused over how he was greeted affectionately by the always warm and kind Molly Weasely two weeks ago and pretty much the whole family. It felt good to be back to what he considered in his heart to be a warm home with the closest thing to a real family he had ever had.
Snapping out of his reverie, Harry trudged downstairs glumly trying to think happy thoughts, like being Seeker, and even considered using an unauthorized charm to alleviate his depression. He sighed as he remembered the case where Bolga the Bountiful had used that charm on herself and had unfortunately gotten addicted to its effects. The end result was quite disturbing and tragic, involving a lot of pet bunnies being crushed from being petted too often and too vigorously and dazed cats stumbling drunkenly out of her cabin after being dressed up in disgustingly cute outfits, out in the wilderness. No one knew quite what was going on over there but Bolga never came out, so say her old friends, and had decorated all of her belongings with yellow "sunshine" ribbons or pink "happy-time" ribbons, or even a mixture of the two. Needless to say, she lost her friends somewhat rapidly soon after and, well, that's a story for another time. Harry shook his head and yawned, wondering why and how he had remembered that obscure story Professor Flitwick had told the class when they were learning the charm last year, which was meant only for extreme feelings of depression at near suicide levels.
Harry made sure he was fully composed and calm as he walked down the final steps of the stairs approaching the dining table where half of the Weasley household were already dressed and eating breakfast.
'Good morning Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George', Harry said in a just-woke-up-and-still-tired sort of voice. 'Odd to see you up so early Ron', he said taking an empty seat at the table.
For the past few years he had spent in the house, he had been used to waking up late (around 9 a.m. or so) and had always found Ron gone. But now, at nearly 6 in the morning this summer, it was really a surprise to see how early his best friend had taken to getting up, which was so atypical for him. Even at school it was a daunting trial to wake the redhead up before 8 am.
Fred answered the implied question when Ron just ignored the statement, saying "Our little Ronnikins has been up at the crack of dawn every morning this summer".
George, rising up to take his and Fred's dishes into the sink, continued the line of thought saying, "and dear Mum won't let us be, insisting that we should also should get up bright and early to make the most of our day".
Fred jumped back in, concluding the joint statement with an emphatic 'she obviously doesn't appreciate young inventor-slash-entrepreneurs such as ourselves need our rest in order work at optimal efficiency', in mock seriousness.
Mrs. Weasely just 'humphed' and didn't even turn around at the weak jibe. Even Harry had to snort at this performance, as it seemed below par for the two tricksters. In truth, Harry had privately been expecting some funny drama and theatrics out of the two in the morning, as he had come to expect of them, but it was early in the morning so that would explain it. In his heart, Harry knew the truth of the matter was that the dark times upon them had taken its toll on even the most carefree of hearts, and this was living proof.
"Why did you wake up so-," Ron started, but he was abruptly cut off by Mrs. Weasley who had noticed Harry's expression when he was walking down the stairs and his bloodshot eyes, and didn't want to aggravate the situation any more than it already was.
"We're going to Diagon Alley today Harry," Mrs. Weasely said crisply, before Harry could ask about Ron's summer work and all that, which was mentioned in Hermione's letter but had completely skipped his mind.
It was the last day before school starts, and they had put off shopping till the last possible moment. The past weeks were spent in traditional, though a bit strained, "fun-in-the-sun" activities. Along with the twins, two of the dream team had pretty much lazed around the house, caused mischief with the lawn gnomes and some grumpy muggle neighbors, and played much quiddich. Not so much as an iota of real work was done, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Weasley who had expected Harry to be a lot more work oriented as he was Head Boy.
"What time did Percy and Mr. Weasley come home?" Harry asked. The two resident Ministry officials were working very diligently and ferociously on the defense of the magical (and muggle, although inconspicuously) nation by setting up wards. Stirrings of trouble abroad also had the Ministry and community nervous, and Britain was working on plans to send Aurors abroad to aid the natives. Minster Malfoy of course opposed this plan and created many barriers in the way of Arthur and others for the policy. As a consequence, the two Ministry Weasleys were bogged down with insane amounts of paper work and bureaucracy to get anything accomplished.
"I think Dad got back around 2 or 3 in the morning," Fred answered grimly. "Percy came at 11, and told us that Dad had to do some more work for the International Auror Aid Plan (IAAP)."
"That man..." Mrs. Weasley began softly, trailing off with a sigh. She supported Arthur, and his work, but that didn't mean she had to support his insane hours!
"Personally, I think it's a good thing Percy spends so much time at work," George said.
"Yeah, with him gone all day, at least we don't have to listen to his constant complaining about the bureaucracy that prevents the "wise" Minister Malfoy from passing the IAAP plan his department (Department of International Cooperatrion) was pushing.
"Boys! Thats enough out of you!"
"Mother, you know that he is blinded by his love for the Ministry and his work!" Fred prodded persistently.
George continued his twin, "He is even to turn a blind eye on everything that the Order of Phoenix accomplished citing that it was a 'minor mistake' on the part of the Ministry!"
"If our great and glorious Deatheater Minister of Magic announced that there was no threat of a rising Voldemort, Percy would believe it in a heartbeat!" Fred passionately concluded.
"You have no idea about how hard Percy has been working Fred and George Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley almost screamed, turning around and glaring at her two antagonizing sons. "He comes home and cries for the sake of the magical world every night! Did you know he leaves for work before I even wake up?! He doesn't eat well, doesn't sleep well and devotes his life for the sake of the people and fear of the Dark Lord. Haven't you noticed the bags under his eyes? The only reason he comes home at all is because Ginny made him promise and on top of that, Arthur forces him to! You do not say things about people you cannot hope to understand!" quite red in the face at this point.
The twins sat back in stunned silence, digesting the new information about Percy. They knew Percy was a little more tired looking and gaunt than usual, but had paid it little heed. Now they hung their heads in shame and whispered apologies to their mum.
Ron exhaled a long breath that he didn't know he had been holding as Mrs Weasley turned away from the twins. And Harry looked up from his plate, feeling guilty for turning the conversation to this topic.
Mrs. Weasley sighed, and said, "Boys, I know you didn't mean it and I'm sorry I snapped at you. Now go up there and change! Today is going to be a busy day. So many things to do, so many things to buy..."
Fred and George nodded their heads as one and jogged up the stairs intent on avoiding their mother's gaze because of their own guilt over their attack on Percy. However, Harry had to cover his smile when he heard one of the two mutter, "Scary..shes more ferocious than a hundred lawn gnomes".
Harry quickly gulped down his pumpkin juice, thanking Mrs. Weasley for another delicious meal (she even made breakfast spectacular) and went upstairs to put on some decent clothes. There seemed to be a certain electricity in the air as he bounded up the stairs that was perceptable to Harry and made him suddenly feel alert. They were gonna meet Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron and everything, but there was something else tugging at Harry's instinct. Something related to the legacy of Merlin was going to go down he suspected... Or maybe he shouldn't have had that fourth sausage link Mrs. Weasley forced onto his plate...
All alone at the table now, Ron muttered "How about those Cannons...", relieving the tension from the drama that had just passed for himself and his mum, who laughed at the words, and finished his juice and followed everyone up the stairs to finish getting ready for the trip ahead.
*****
*****
Diagon Alley was filled with hustle and bustle, as was typical these days. Just last year Deatheaters had attacked the center of wizard commerce but the economy rebounded nicely since the Dark Lord and his minions were unable to penetrate Gringotts, which was paramount in ensuring the financial stability in Britain's magical community. The goblins, along with the dragons and other esoteric creatures kept to defend the hidden wealth, launched a fabulous and still memorable counter-offensive that drove the Deatheaters out of Diagon and even Knockturn alley, where some local shopkeepers actually came out to fight against the Dark Lord, apparently agitated about the "desecration of the dark side". There was much damage to the shops, but the good (or those acting good as in the case of Lucius Malfoy and other socially prominent Deatheaters), all contributed with money and effort to restore the alley back to its former glory, with the exception of it being open only on specific "market days", instead of all the time.
It was this environment of underlying tension, but determined, quiet strength present in the faces and mannerisms of the people that greeted Harry, Ron, Fred and George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George looked around somewhat eagerly for a location for their shop. Because of the war with Voldemort, the two "mad geniuses", as Ron had once dubbed them, were working on inventions that would lead to catching the Dark Lords minions. Officially, they were third class Aurors, but they mostly contributed by finding clever and original ways to manipulate objects to accomplish feats that would help capture Deatheaters. A few years ago they had come up with crazy but helpful inventions like the Deatheater-special Dungbomb, which was used on large masses of hooded and covered Deatheaters. The special quality of the bomb was that a red dye would permeate through any material and go straight to the skin of any with the dark mark. This was done with the assistance of Professor Snapes dark mark, much to the latter's reluctance. The red dye went all over the skin in all parts of the body and magically glowed, so it was hard to mask with make up or ordinary charms. Another benefit was that it lasted for at least one or two months before it got weak and dispersed. This was extremely helpful in detecting undercover Deatheater spies in ordinary wizard society, and had earned the twins an Order of Merlin, third class award each, although it wasn't very well known to the public so as not target the family by Deatheaters. However, they could now afford to take a break from the dangerous ministry work because Deatheater activity in Great Britain had surprisingly declined the past summer, which was almost worse than having them attack every week in some semblance of a pattern to some.
Harry and the Weasleys headed off to Gringotts, the International renowned Wizarding Bank, first off to collect money to cover the school supplies, and several extra treats as well.
Security at the great bank was tight, more than any of them had seen before. Goblin Special Forces complete with armor designed to repulse basic level hexes and curses and large gruesome looking cutlasses stood at the foot of the stairs looking menacing, glaring at pedestrians who dared to look twice at them. As the small party reached the bank, a middle aged and scarred Goblin screened them for traces of dark magic with a special bone-shaped detector.
Finishing ten minutes later, he finally, and grudgingly, grunted "You may pass", and the other guard Goblins stepped aside to let them enter.
"Whoa...", Ginny gasped, echoed soon after by her brothers. If security outside was tight, inside it was simply awesome in its magnitude. There were two ogres with four goblin "supervisors" standing on one side, and on the other there was a semi-tamed (as none can really be tame) dragon. The party shuffled through slowly, daunted by the fearsome creatures around them. Harry and the Weasleys split up with Harry going to find a banker to take him to his vault and the Weasleys going to theirs. Fred and George had a seperate account, and they were unsuccessfully trying to convince Mrs. Weasley to use their money. Unfortunately being a Weasley entailed being stubborn, even when dealing with her own children so she refused emphatically.
"Can I help you?" an old Goblin asked Harry in a guttural voice.
"Take me to the Potters vault", Harry responded, handing the old Goblin his key. As he was by himself this time, Harry decided he would try to investigate his large vault and see if there were any possessions or heirlooms his parents, or other ancestors, left for him. Secretly, he was hoping to find the staff of Merlin, but he dared not to get his hopes up.
Harry's banker stepped out from behind the counter and said, "Follow me", as he led Harry to the trademark Gringotts carts, though with another security wizard in tow.
Harry followed the heavily wrinkled humanoid down to the cart area and stepped into the cart. Harry braced himself as the cart jettisoned from the docking place where the carts were kept seemingly haphazardly.
"Whooooooaa", Harry gasped from the exhilaration coming from the ride down into the depths of a random seeming tunnel. Harry was thrilled at the ride this time, having overcome his initial trepidations from the first few times he had taken the carts down to the vaults, and now was eagerly looking around for any of the dragons that were supposed to be guarding the wizard gold hidden in the various vaults that he passed by.
"Here's your vault, Mister Potter", the old goat of a Goblin rasped to Harry. Harry opened the circular door with his key, and stepped inside the vault, which automatically was lit up by magic. He looked in appreciation at amount of wealth lying before him not only in the form of sacks upon sacks of galleons, sickles, and knuts, but also in the form of jewel encrusted goblets and a beautiful golden harp that he was sure was magical. Maybe that was because the little angel figurine on the top of it was smiling at Harry and winking.
The vault was about the size of the Dursley's living room, which is to say that it wasn't especially super sized; it was still grand and impressive for a room dedicated to one family's wealth. Harry walked on top of heaps of galleons, inspecting various trinkets along the way that were on shelves or scattered among the coins, such as a little golden dragon that flew in small languid circles and a book in dark midnight blue binding entitled simple charms. As much as he valued Ron and Hermione, he would never give anyone any of his heirlooms, though feeling guilty at this thought, he took out an extra twenty galleons for presents for their respective birthday presents.
Harry continued down the line of items on a shelf admiring many of the little treasures but afraid to touch any of them. Harry was afraid of damaging any of the objects (or get damaged himself by them) by physically handling them so he simply looked at them, etching them in his memory so he would have something pleasant to think about after waking up from his nightmares, or to produce a Patronus. A golden chain was at end of the line of items on the northern wall of the room, with beautiful sparkling blue gem the size of a dime on its end. Harry found himself attracted to the amulet for some inexplicable reason, and unconsciously stretched out his hand to reach it. As his hand approached the chain, the jewel on the end started to glow, becoming radiant and sending blue sparks to his hand while his hand emitted white sparks that seemed to fit perfectly with the blue of the jewel. Continuing entranced, and perhaps still unaware of his own actions, Harry took hold of the chain and placed it around his neck.
Harry suddenly felt a tingling down this spine that bordered on both ecstasy and pain, similar to what Dudley described feeling when he stuck his fork into the electric socket. Harry began to see black spots in his vision, but he focused on the feeling and eventually regained his concentration. As he was about to take off the chain having finally achieved mental awareness, the sensation stopped and Harry was at peace again, only a heaviness in breathing and sweaty palms reminding him that it wasn't all in his imagination.
The chain seemed to lighten his spirits and made Harry feel somehow more complete. He held the amulet, which was no longer reacting to his body, in his hand and considered taking off the chain and putting it back on the shelf where he found it, but instead he tucked the jewel underneath his shirt. Harry took a relatively small sack of wizard money, enough to purchase supplies for school and for some 'extracurricular activities', that happened to involve a ferret and his two ape companions.
With his money bag safely put into the folds of his robes and the blue jewel amulet resting against the skin of his chest, Harry strolled out of his ancestral vault closing the door behind him and stepping into the Gringotts cart, eager to get back above ground.
*****
*****
Harry emerged from the Bank to find a very irate Ron Weasley standing outside by himself, impatiently waiting for one of his best friends to come out from the building.
"What took you so bloody long Harry?!" Ron snapped at his friend, as soon as Harry had reached 'snapping distance' from him. "Lets go to the Leaky Cauldron. We are already 15 minutes late for our meeting with Hermione. Mum and Ginny went ahead with Fred and George to meet up with and to assure her that we would be showing up. Honestly Harry... did the cart break down on you or something? My brother Bill told me a story once about how -
"Ron," Harry interceded calmly as they walked down the Alley amid the countless hurried pedestrians, "you're babbling."
Ron stopped in mid-sentence and also in his tracks, his mouth imitating a fish's remarkably. He recovered hurried along to catch up with Harry, clearly embarrassed as given evidence by his red ears. "Right. Um. Sorry about that mate," he said, as the pair walked briskly to the Leaky Cauldron.
Upon arriving, the two boys saw the rest of the distinctive red-headed family huddled around a table with a single brown puffy haired head with them. They made their way through the crowd of patrons, who were ill tempered about being bumped into by the large red haired teenager, but wisely didn't say anything as, again, he was a very large boy. Harry followed calmly behind his friend, apologizing for spilled drinks and hurt feelings that the victims of Ron's haste were grumbling about.
"Hi Mum", Ron said, approaching the table at last. "Hi Mio-- Hermione". 'Mione had been Ron's nickname for his one time girlfriend for the past year or so, but he didn't feel comfortable saying it right then in front of his family, and with what had happened between the two.
Hermione was uncharacteristically meek, and actually lowered her head slightly at Ron's cool and strained greeting. "Hi Ron," she managed and quickly occupied herself with a sip of her drink.
Harry joined up with the crowd at last, after picking up the last chair that Ron had unconsciously tipped over on his journey through the inn-cum-tavern-cum-restaurant. "Hi Hermione," Harry said in a quiet collected voice, that the Weasley family had come be familiar with over the past two weeks, very different from the Harry of years past.
Hermione, still not looking up towards her two best friends, responded "Hello Harry.
"Come along now children," Mrs. Weasley abruptly said. "Why don't you and Harry get something to drink along with Hermione, Ron" Mrs. Weasley commanded more than asked. "We'll see you dears at Madam Malkin's shop when you are good and ready."
"Yes Mum," Ginny and the twins chorused as they quickly slid out of the booth and slid away, following their mother outside into the warm sunshine of Diagon Alley. Hermione lifted her head quickly at this with a frantic gleam in her eye, but then sighed and focused her attention to the table in front of her.
Harry nudged Ron into the booth on the side opposite to Hermione and then took a seat next to him. Harry snickered internally as he observed Ron's attention never waver from Hermione. Harry then choked back another chuckle when he saw that Hermiones eyes were focused on her drinking glass, which somehow she had charmed to reflect Ron's face into it.
Harry amusedly said, "I need to go get something... from somewhere. I'll meet you guys at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor when you're finished," and he quickly slid and left Ron and Hermione both glaring at his back as he made his escape.
Ron and Hermione both turned back to face each other at the same time looking at each other in the eyes, and then turned away simultaneously, both blushing and quickly looking back down.
Ron cleared his throat and said, "Err, Hermione. I'm really sorry for neglecting you this summer, and I hope we can still work out our relationship...". Ron trailed off seeing a glimmer of a tear in Hermiones eye, and immediately looked back down and sighed, about to start anew.
"OH Ron!" Hermione exclaimed looking back up, rather fiercely, startling Ron in the process. "I'm so sorry for being such a git. I hope you would still be" Hermione paused, and then not quite as ferociously said, "my boyfriend."
"No hard feelings then?" Ron asked her hopefully. His reinstated girlfriend shook her head intensely, causing Ron to give a mighty grin. "Well then, this is for you 'Mione," he said pulling out a jewelry box from inside the folds of his robes...
*****
*****
Half an hour later found Ron and Hermione staring at each other over a shared cup of poppin berry ice cream and a very exasperated Harry was sitting off to the side, thoroughly excluded and exasperated.
"I'm going to Madam Malkins now," Harry said, suddenly rising from his seat. "We've kept your mum waiting long enough as it is.... Ron? Hermione?"
Unfortunately for Harry, there seemed to be a spell around the two that his words couldn't penetrate which left him feeling very abused and neglected.
Harry punched Ron on the shoulder lightly to no effect. Seeing as more force was required, and also because of his frustration at being ignored, Harry reared up and unleashed a powerful blow to Ron's unsuspecting shoulder, knocking the red headed boy to the ground.
"Harry!" Hermione yelled, as she got up quickly and went to Ron's side. "There was no need for that at all!" She picked up Ron and helped him dust of his crumpled and dirty robes.
Ron was still dazed from Hermione's proximity and the force of the blow, so he had nothing to say.
Harry snorted at this and repeated, "I'm going to Madam Malkin's now." He smiled irritatingly, and continued, "don't you think we've spent enough time... talking. Everyone must be quite curious as to what we've been doing all this time, and I just might tell them!
Hermione and Ron both blushed at this and quietly muttered "okay, okay" and followed Harry to the shop, where everyone else had been fitted. Hermione already had gotten her robes, and Mrs. Weasley had taken the liberty of purchasing robes for Ron and Harry from approximate measurements, which were very accurate as she had five boys before Ron.
"Hey Ron, how do you fancy we take a look at the brooms now, before we head back? I want to check if there are any new mods for the Firebolt released," Harry asked his friend.
One of the lesser known but more spectacular features of the Firebolt were that there were some slots available so the broom could later be customized with new features that the company released later. The apparatus was quite ingenious, involving taking out a very small bolt of wood and replacing it with a charmed bolt designated to have a special feature for the broom. To prevent tampering, and to maintain a monopoly, the Firebolt manufacturers had a specially designed magical signature so that only their charmed bolts could be used in the broom.
"Sure!" Ron said enthusiastically, eager to do anything involving brooms, and more importantly quiddich. "Lemme go an' ask Mum."
Just as Ron turned around, a chill swept through Diagon Alley reminiscent of a cold Feburary storm, which was odd because it was the start of August and by all accounts the weather should have been warm and nice consistently.
Ginny turned and shivered pulling her red summer robes close around her and huddled closer to her mum and Hermione, who had elected to forego the pleasures of seeing the latest in quiddich equipment.
Suddenly, a shadow emerged, started from the north side of the alley and expanding southward covering every inch of the alley. Everywhere the shadow touched a bit of frost appeared and people caught in there keeled over and seemed to open their mouths in silent screams of fear, with tears flowing freely from even the oldest of Wizards.
Harry looked up to the source of the shadow and saw the most awesome and terrible single sight he had ever observed in his short but eventful life. Above Diagon Alley flew a white dragon with shimmering bright scales adorning every part of its beautiful body. As the dragon flapped its great wings, artic-cold winds buffeted the helpless crowds beneath it. The extraordinary aspect of this dragon was that it was extremely large, even by standards of dragons. Harry recalled his experiences with Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback, and noted with alarm that it would take at the very least six dragons of that already grand size to fit into the torso of the dragon currently above him, not even counting the long neck and the large maw of the creature. This dragon could have had two dragons the size of the one guarding Gringotts for breakfast. As the great white dragon flew over him, casting the dark shadow over him and his friends, Harry alone remained standing as the others immediately fell to the ground along with others in the alley. Only Ron showed some resistance and while he was forced to his knees, but did not look afraid. Instead, he appeared fierce and angry at the creature that dared to do this to him.
"My God," croaked Mrs. Weasley, her eyes wide and terrified. Her face was almost as pale as the leathery wings of the creature above them, as to match the pallor on the faces of her children, which provided an eerie image because of their sharply contrasting red hair.
Harry looked back up to the Great White above him, coming to the realization that the crowd around him was falling victim to dragonfear. Dragonfear was a power that all dragons possessed, but no dragons had the power to truly terrify people into such a state according what Harry recalled of Hagrid's lecture on the magical creatures. The dragons he was familiar with, like the Common Welsh Green, the Norwegian Ridgeback, the Swedish Short-Snout, and the Chinese Fireball used the power to frighten rabbits and other small prey that they hunted into a docile paralyzed state so they could be easier to pick off, but they could never elicit such a response on life bigger than the size of a deer. This dragon radiated not only dragonfear and coldness, but also Harry could sense a wrongness and evil aura about the creature, as if it was fully aware of its actions and consciously enjoyed the humans' misery.
Harry shivered, but not because of fear of the dragon or the coldness it produced. He shivered because of the realization that the dragon wasn't from this world. 'It must be a creature of the Abyss and is going to the service of its master, Lord Voldemort.'
Turning away from the quiddich store, Harry coolly marched to Flourish and Blotts without having anyone pay attention to him as he needed to pick up something that his friends didn't need to know about, and this was as good an opportunity as he would get. He picked up his textbooks and an extra text on the art of dueling and fighting the dark arts, appropriately titled Dueling and Otherwise Fighting the Dark Arts, Advanced Edition from a dazzled and disoriented clerk, who had some small protection from the dragonfear from being inside of the building. Harry decided to wait inside for his friends rather than see them in their undignified positions. 'I wouldn't want them to see me if I were like this,' flowed Harry's train of thought.
Ten minutes later Ron staggered in, still a little pale, to find Harry calmly waiting by the entrance of the store. He gave the excuse that fear of the dragon made him go inside, although the Great White had very little effect on Harry other than the surprise at seeing such a unique and singularly malicious creature. Eventually, the rest of the family came in. Not mentioning his extra text, he and the rest made their way to the Leaky Cauldron very quietly as young children that were most affected by the dragon were groggily being awoken by their concerned parents.
Harry trudged up to his room, saying good night to his companions, who were all in a dazed and anti-social state, and settled in for a long night, sure to be filled with dreams of terrible things. Feeling the urge, Harry conjured up an illusion of a sugarplum that pranced gaily around his head, for the purpose giving his head not-to-subtle hints to what he wanted to be dreaming of that night. Harry lay down and prayed that the sugarplum treatment worked, and managed to fall asleep right away with a small trickle of drool coming from his mouth.