Squib Summer
A Harry Potter fan-fic
Chapter One: The Boy Who Was Followed
By Ozma and Jelsemium
The Music Store, 'Musically Inclined,' was created by Jill Weber
(Jelsemium). The Tattered Cover Bookstore is actually in Denver,
Colorado. All recognizable characters were created by J. K. Rowling
The less recognizable humans aren't based on anyone in particular. The
less recognizable creatures are loosely based on folklore and mythology
The spell's presence was powerful and subtle. It was unlike anything I'd
felt before; a deep musical note that seemed to resonate through the
smoke-filled taproom of the Leaky Cauldron.
I looked up, startled, to discover that no one else seemed to have
sensed it. The murmurs of conversation all around me did not cease. Even
Mrs. Norris, curled up asleep on my lap, did not stir.
Feeling like a fool, I gazed into the depths of my drink. I'd ordered a
gillywater. Being around all the Muggle-repelling spells in London was
enough to make me feel a bit ill, without getting drunk into the
bargain.
"Enjoy London," the Headmaster had said, yesterday evening when he'd put
me on the Knight Bus. "I may be gone before you return, but Hagrid will
still be at the Castle for the next three days. After that, it's not
likely that you will have another chance to get away for a while."
"I don't need to get away," I'd grumbled.
That was a lie, and Dumbledore knew it. The Professors had all left
Hogwarts for the summer, headed for points unknown. I knew nothing about
what tasks lay in store for them, and I knew better than to ask. I was
especially worried about Minerva. Very recently the lovely Professor had
become more than a dear friend to me.
Unable to do anything to help her or anyone else, I had gone grimly
about my summer chores, as best as I could.
How could I be anything but grim at the prospect of cleaning up after a
beast the size of Fluffy? And then, there was my redecorating project in
Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But I didn't want to think about that…
"A change of scene will do you good," Dumbledore had said, firmly. Then
he'd given me a few days off to take care of some long-neglected
business in Diagon Alley.
The Headmaster is usually right about most things. But, at the moment,
the scenery in the Leaky Cauldron was a bit too "changed" for my
comfort. There was most definitely a Sphinx curled, regally lion-like,
in front of the bar. She was surveying the room through long, almond
shaped eyes, while she sipped at a drink.
And my nose told me of the Harpy, even before I spied the gleam of
brassy wings in a shadowy corner. At least she wasn't flying about,
putting people off their breakfasts. Quite the opposite, really; she'd
put some effort into making herself tidy, enough so that the harpy-
stench wasn't too offensive to the other beings in the taproom.
Nevertheless, everyone was giving that corner a wide berth.
And surely, that fey creature who'd just drifted into the taproom,
surrounded by a haze of faint light, was a Banshee! What in Merlin's
name was the Leaky Cauldron coming to?
But, when the unknown spell began to ring inside the very hollows of my
bones, I forgot about the Sphinx, the Harpy and the Banshee. Moving
slowly, almost against my will, I stood, picking up Mrs. Norris. My cat
made a small, indignant sound when I interrupted her nap. With her
cradled in my arms, I moved towards the door leading into Muggle-London.
Odd, that this potent spell was coming from the Muggle-side, not from
Diagon Alley. If I'd had any sense, I wouldn't have gone to investigate.
Perhaps I've been spending too much time around Gryffindors lately, it's
my only excuse. Of course Minerva would have gone to investigate. She's
brave. She wouldn't sit, staring into her gillywater, waiting for the
feeling to go away.
I stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and the spell's power made me
stagger. A woman seemed to be one of its focal points. A thin, blonde
woman. The spell swirled around her without truly touching her. Near the
woman was a very fat blond boy. He provided another focal point for the
spell. The corona of ancient magic around the pair of them was so strong
that I couldn't tell if they were wizarding folk or Muggles.
Their party had a third member. He trailed behind the other two, dressed
in clothing that I could tell was shabby despite my unfamiliarity with
Muggle fashion.
It took me a moment to recognize him.
*******
This was worse than Harry imagined. Not only were they in London, they'd
halted just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry could almost smell the
butterbeer from where he stood outside the music shop. Truthfully, it
wasn't even a cool drink he was longing for, although he was feeling
parched. It was the congenial atmosphere. He knew that, at the very
least, Tom the bartender would be at hand.
Harry was almost to the point where he'd take the Potions dungeons,
Snape and all, to listening to his cousin whine any more. Dudley had
stopped in front of the record shop and had started badgering Petunia
for a new CD, and a new CD player to go with it. Dudley had broken his
third or fourth CD player just two days ago when he'd had a tantrum
about going to this wedding of Vernon's boss.
Petunia was on the verge of giving in when she noticed Harry staring
longingly in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. She glanced in that
direction, then scowled because she saw nothing there. Normally, she'd
assume that her freak of a nephew was just staring into space, but there
was something in his expression that told her that he was seeing
something dear to him. Something she couldn't see. Which meant that it
was part of the freak world. "Come along, now," she snarled, hauling at
both boys' arms.
Dudley shot Harry a dirty look. "You always spoil everything," he
whined. "I was that close to a new CD Player!" He held up his pudgy
thumb and forefinger.
Harry snorted. "Well, if you didn't go around destroying your things,
you wouldn't need to replace them so often," he said.
Petunia gave him a dirty look, but refrained from hitting him in public.
Dragging two recalcitrant teen-aged boys through the muggy heat of a
busy London morning would be enough to try the patience of a saint, or a
Hufflepuff. Petunia Dursley was neither. Things got worse as Petunia
began to notice the odd looks that Potter was getting from passer-by.
Typically, she blamed Potter for his shabby appearance, although she
knew full well that he was wearing the best clothing that he'd been
given.
When one of the onlookers actually made a comment, Petunia snapped. "I
can't do a thing with this brat. You're welcome to take him, see if you
can do a better job of making him behave."
*******
That caught her attention. Abandoned children fell into the Grey
Stalker's purview. Though she had to admit, if only to herself, that her
definition of 'abandoned' children probably wouldn't match that of their
parents. She defined any argument between such a parent and such a child
as 'abandonment.' It gave her a far wider choice of prey, for it was the
rare child indeed who never argued with his or her parents. However,
this offer, coming voluntarily from the boy's guardian, most definitely
put this tasty morsel within her reach.
*******
When I saw The Boy Who Lived, all the pieces fell into place. I'd heard
the Headmaster speak of an ancient magic that would protect Harry when
he was in the care of his family. The woman and the boy… they must be
Potter's Muggle relations. The ones that no one at Hogwarts seemed to
think very highly of! Was the family so poor that they had to dress
Potter like a beggar? But the aunt and the cousin had been dressed well
enough, in their strange Muggle way. It was a puzzle…
By the time I'd collected my wits, Potter, the woman and the boy were
out of my sight, hidden among the crowd of people on the street. They
were getting further away, but I could still feel the power that bound
the three of them. It would be easy enough for me to follow, if I chose.
Mrs. Norris jumped lightly down from my arms. Taking a few steps in the
direction that Potter and his family had gone, she looked back at me and
gave a loud mew.
"Is it necessary go after him, my sweet?" I asked her. "He's with his
family after all. It's none of our concern, really. Between his own
magic and that protective spell around all of them, nothing harmful
should be able to touch him."
Mrs. Norris flicked an ear at me in an impatient way and headed down the
street, a small grey panther slinking through a forest of legs.
"Very well…" I sighed. Mrs. Norris' opinions on such matters are not to
be dismissed lightly. I followed her, pushing my way past staring
Muggles. Some were snickering. Others wore expressions of concern and
pity.
I glared. It wasn't as if I was doing anything unusual. I was merely
speaking to my cat, not juggling purple balls of flame! Didn't Muggles
ever talk to their cats?
Potter and his relations were getting further away. Mrs. Norris moves
much faster than I do. Keeping her in sight wasn't easy. London was so
hot, so many people, so many noisy, wretched cars…
I'd just followed Mrs. Norris across a busy thoroughfare (both of us
escaped being struck by moving vehicles, in my case by inches) when I
was assaulted by a sudden wave of foul magic.
At first the stench of Darkness was indistinguishable from the reek of a
large metal container full of rubbish, standing in a shadowy alley
between grubby brick buildings. By the time I realized the danger, it
was already too late to defend myself.
Small hands, callused and strong, had seized my right arm in a grip as
unbreakable as an iron manacle. I was swung forward, striking my head
against the corner of one of the brick buildings.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the alley. Choking on
the combined stink of garbage and Dark magic, I became aware that
someone or something was gripping my shoulders and sniffing at me.
"Easy prey, this one, no need to waste my dart here. And there's some
magic in him…," a sibilant, female voice hissed. The creature was
breathing in my face. Her breath was even worse than Fluffy's.
"But, how to get at it?" The voice was filled with frustration. "He's a
tough, old nut. Too hard to crack his shell! And the meal would be a
meager one, hardly worth the time and effort. The boy will be sweeter
meat. A succulent feast…!"Now, I could hear the foul thing licking her
lips.
Could there be any doubt which boy she was referring to? Potter has a
highly-developed gift for attracting trouble in every possible form.
Merlin's Beard… couldn't he even walk down a street? Professor Snape
swears up and down that Potter does this sort of thing on purpose. I
have come to believe that the boy doesn't mean to attract danger, he
can't help it, any more than poor Neville can help the fact that he's
clumsy.
"You can't have the boy…" I gasped, struggling to open my eyes. When I
succeeded, my dubious reward was the sight of what appeared to be a
small, swarthy, dark haired woman. She was dressed in shabby grey robes.
I didn't think that she was a Death Eater, or one of the Dark Lord's
minions. The Darkness that surrounded her was different, far more
ancient and terribly hungry.
She gave me an evil smile that seemed to contain far too many teeth.
"Who's going to stop me then? You, Broken Wizard? Whatever small magic
you have is locked away from you."
With a cackling laugh, she let my head drop to the pavement. The pain
was like an explosion of Filibuster Fireworks in my skull.
*******
Clothes shopping is boring at the best of times, not that Harry was
really familiar with it. His experience with buying clothes had been
limited to walking into Madam Malkins', getting his robes hemmed and
then going off to get ice cream. Buying dress robes (please, no Yule
Ball next year!) might have been different, but Mrs. Weasley had done
that chore for him.
Buying clothes for Dudley went beyond boring. Harry found himself
wishing to be back in History of Magic. At least there he could put his
head down and go to sleep. Here he had to stay awake and guard Aunt
Petunia's purse and all the purchases. There was exactly one package in
there for him, his new underwear. He'd asked for some in front of too
many witnesses for Aunt Petunia to say 'no'. He'd pay for it later, he
knew, but he wasn't about to pass up a chance for some decent fitting
under things.
Dudley wasn't helping matters any. His constant whining was finally
getting on even his doting mother's nerves. "That was the last fitting,
Duddy-kins," she cooed. "Now we can have a nice tea before going home."
"I want a hamburger," whined Dudley.
Harry actually sympathized. He had never been to any of Aunt Petunia's
teas, of course, but having cleaned up after them, he'd noticed that the
food seemed to consist of undersized sandwiches and little-bitty cakes
too small to even taste. He'd rather have a hamburger, too. Not that he
was going to get either tea or burger, he sighed to himself.
He was startled out of his reverie when Aunt Petunia scooped the
packages out of his arms. "We're going inside for a final fitting.
There's a good restaurant in there that serves tea. Stay here and I'll
bring you the leftovers."
Leftovers? From a meal of Dudley's? Harry sighed, but Petunia just
glared at him. "If you're not here when we come out, you'll have to make
your own way home. I'm not putting myself out over a brat like you."
Harry sighed again as Petunia and Dudley disappeared into the shop's
cool interior. He considered slipping back to the Leaky Cauldron, he
didn't have any money on him, or even his Gringott's key, but he bet
that Tom would give him credit. He got up and looked around, then gave
up. All the different errands had him so turned around that he had no
idea which way the Leaky Cauldron was from here. He slumped onto a bench
and tried to remember the name of the stores that flanked the wizarding
tavern.
"Are you all right, dear?"
Harry looked up to see a small, swarthy dark haired woman dressed in a
shapeless grey pantsuit.
"You seemed a bit lost," the woman continued. There was something
strange about her mouth. It reminded him somehow of some wild Japanese
movie he'd caught Dudley watching once, where the actors words didn't
synchronize with the lip movements.
A lifetime of being told not to talk to strangers combined with recent
events to make him feel a trifle wary, if not outright paranoid. So
Harry answered cautiously. "Erm, no, ma'am, I was just trying to
remember the name of a record shop that we just passed. It was right
next to a bookstore, too," Harry thought that was safe enough. All the
lessons in manners he'd gotten from his Aunt actually agreed with his
first year DADA classes… keep a civil tongue in your head when spoken
to.
"Do you mean the ones that flank the Leaky Cauldron?"
Harry's eyes went wide. Then her dark eyes flickered to his forehead and
he realized she knew who he was. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, shifting his
weight uneasily.
"The music store is called Musically Inclined. It's as Muggle as they
come. The bookstore is called The Tattered Cover. You can find a great
many Muggle works there, and a great many more Wizarding books in there.
The proprietors were there long before Diagon Alley was closed to
Muggles."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Harry said politely. He gave her his best 'I have no
idea what McGonagall is talking about, so I hope she doesn't call on me'
look."
Would you like directions, Mr. Potter?" the woman sounded happy. For
some reason, Harry didn't share her emotion. What he wanted was for his
aunt and cousin to come out of the store so they could head for home.
Even more, he wanted Dumbledore or Hagrid to show up. Even Snape would
have been welcome at this point.
"No thank you," Harry said. "I was just wondering."
"Not thinking of how good some of Tom's shepherd's pie would taste right
now?"
Now that she mentioned it, Harry's thoughts drifted that way. His
stomach growled. "Thank you, but I have to wait until my Aunt Petunia
gets back."
"Such an obedient child," she said that like it was an advantage to her.
"Where is your family?"
"Having tea," Harry said, growing more uneasy by the moment.
"And you didn't want any," the woman said firmly. "I don't blame you.
Little cucumber sandwiches never did much for me." She paused and her
mouth twisted up into a little smile. One that showed no teeth. Harry
was having doubts about which species she belonged to.
"I have a suggestion, young Potter," The woman turned and pointed to a
fish and chips shop with a walkup window. "The owner of that shop is a
kindly woman with a great many grandchildren. She loathes to see
children go hungry. If you offer to lend a hand tidying up the place,
she would be happy to give you a bite to eat."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Harry said.
"You are quite welcome, Mr. Potter," the woman(?) inclined her head and
walked away.
Harry watched after her until she disappeared into the crowd. He looked
over at the fish and chips shop wistfully. He had no idea how long Aunt
Petunia and Dudley would be, and he hadn't eaten since yesterday
evening. And all he'd had then was diet food.
He decided that it couldn't hurt to ask.
It took a while to get to the front of the line, apparently they were a
popular eating place. When he got to the front of the line, he spoke to
a sweet faced woman that didn't look old enough to be anybody's
grandmother. But when he told her that he was waiting for his relatives,
but had forgotten his lunch money, she suggested the same solution as
the grey woman had.
"We're awfully busy, sweetie. If I can get you to clear off the tables,
then I don't have to send one of my cooks out there to clean up. That
will help me out tremendously. When you finish, come around to the back
door and I'll give you a bite."
When Harry finished the clean up, he looked around. The line at the
front of the counter had thinned out considerably. The sweet faced woman
smiled at him and pointed to an alley that presumably lead to the back
door. Harry nodded. He looked back towards Beau Brummels. Still no sign
of his aunt or Dudley. He estimated that he'd only been working for half
an hour or so. He could get his food and bring it back to where Aunt
Petunia had left him. The set up seemed almost too good, but he couldn't
see any flaw in the plan. So he went around to the back.
*******
The fish and chips woman, who was as kindly as she looked, wondered why
the boy never came for his food. Probably ran into the relatives he'd
been waiting for, she decided. She never thought to search the alley.
After all, there had been no unusual noises from there.
To Be Continued...
A Harry Potter fan-fic
Chapter One: The Boy Who Was Followed
By Ozma and Jelsemium
The Music Store, 'Musically Inclined,' was created by Jill Weber
(Jelsemium). The Tattered Cover Bookstore is actually in Denver,
Colorado. All recognizable characters were created by J. K. Rowling
The less recognizable humans aren't based on anyone in particular. The
less recognizable creatures are loosely based on folklore and mythology
The spell's presence was powerful and subtle. It was unlike anything I'd
felt before; a deep musical note that seemed to resonate through the
smoke-filled taproom of the Leaky Cauldron.
I looked up, startled, to discover that no one else seemed to have
sensed it. The murmurs of conversation all around me did not cease. Even
Mrs. Norris, curled up asleep on my lap, did not stir.
Feeling like a fool, I gazed into the depths of my drink. I'd ordered a
gillywater. Being around all the Muggle-repelling spells in London was
enough to make me feel a bit ill, without getting drunk into the
bargain.
"Enjoy London," the Headmaster had said, yesterday evening when he'd put
me on the Knight Bus. "I may be gone before you return, but Hagrid will
still be at the Castle for the next three days. After that, it's not
likely that you will have another chance to get away for a while."
"I don't need to get away," I'd grumbled.
That was a lie, and Dumbledore knew it. The Professors had all left
Hogwarts for the summer, headed for points unknown. I knew nothing about
what tasks lay in store for them, and I knew better than to ask. I was
especially worried about Minerva. Very recently the lovely Professor had
become more than a dear friend to me.
Unable to do anything to help her or anyone else, I had gone grimly
about my summer chores, as best as I could.
How could I be anything but grim at the prospect of cleaning up after a
beast the size of Fluffy? And then, there was my redecorating project in
Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But I didn't want to think about that…
"A change of scene will do you good," Dumbledore had said, firmly. Then
he'd given me a few days off to take care of some long-neglected
business in Diagon Alley.
The Headmaster is usually right about most things. But, at the moment,
the scenery in the Leaky Cauldron was a bit too "changed" for my
comfort. There was most definitely a Sphinx curled, regally lion-like,
in front of the bar. She was surveying the room through long, almond
shaped eyes, while she sipped at a drink.
And my nose told me of the Harpy, even before I spied the gleam of
brassy wings in a shadowy corner. At least she wasn't flying about,
putting people off their breakfasts. Quite the opposite, really; she'd
put some effort into making herself tidy, enough so that the harpy-
stench wasn't too offensive to the other beings in the taproom.
Nevertheless, everyone was giving that corner a wide berth.
And surely, that fey creature who'd just drifted into the taproom,
surrounded by a haze of faint light, was a Banshee! What in Merlin's
name was the Leaky Cauldron coming to?
But, when the unknown spell began to ring inside the very hollows of my
bones, I forgot about the Sphinx, the Harpy and the Banshee. Moving
slowly, almost against my will, I stood, picking up Mrs. Norris. My cat
made a small, indignant sound when I interrupted her nap. With her
cradled in my arms, I moved towards the door leading into Muggle-London.
Odd, that this potent spell was coming from the Muggle-side, not from
Diagon Alley. If I'd had any sense, I wouldn't have gone to investigate.
Perhaps I've been spending too much time around Gryffindors lately, it's
my only excuse. Of course Minerva would have gone to investigate. She's
brave. She wouldn't sit, staring into her gillywater, waiting for the
feeling to go away.
I stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and the spell's power made me
stagger. A woman seemed to be one of its focal points. A thin, blonde
woman. The spell swirled around her without truly touching her. Near the
woman was a very fat blond boy. He provided another focal point for the
spell. The corona of ancient magic around the pair of them was so strong
that I couldn't tell if they were wizarding folk or Muggles.
Their party had a third member. He trailed behind the other two, dressed
in clothing that I could tell was shabby despite my unfamiliarity with
Muggle fashion.
It took me a moment to recognize him.
*******
This was worse than Harry imagined. Not only were they in London, they'd
halted just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Harry could almost smell the
butterbeer from where he stood outside the music shop. Truthfully, it
wasn't even a cool drink he was longing for, although he was feeling
parched. It was the congenial atmosphere. He knew that, at the very
least, Tom the bartender would be at hand.
Harry was almost to the point where he'd take the Potions dungeons,
Snape and all, to listening to his cousin whine any more. Dudley had
stopped in front of the record shop and had started badgering Petunia
for a new CD, and a new CD player to go with it. Dudley had broken his
third or fourth CD player just two days ago when he'd had a tantrum
about going to this wedding of Vernon's boss.
Petunia was on the verge of giving in when she noticed Harry staring
longingly in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. She glanced in that
direction, then scowled because she saw nothing there. Normally, she'd
assume that her freak of a nephew was just staring into space, but there
was something in his expression that told her that he was seeing
something dear to him. Something she couldn't see. Which meant that it
was part of the freak world. "Come along, now," she snarled, hauling at
both boys' arms.
Dudley shot Harry a dirty look. "You always spoil everything," he
whined. "I was that close to a new CD Player!" He held up his pudgy
thumb and forefinger.
Harry snorted. "Well, if you didn't go around destroying your things,
you wouldn't need to replace them so often," he said.
Petunia gave him a dirty look, but refrained from hitting him in public.
Dragging two recalcitrant teen-aged boys through the muggy heat of a
busy London morning would be enough to try the patience of a saint, or a
Hufflepuff. Petunia Dursley was neither. Things got worse as Petunia
began to notice the odd looks that Potter was getting from passer-by.
Typically, she blamed Potter for his shabby appearance, although she
knew full well that he was wearing the best clothing that he'd been
given.
When one of the onlookers actually made a comment, Petunia snapped. "I
can't do a thing with this brat. You're welcome to take him, see if you
can do a better job of making him behave."
*******
That caught her attention. Abandoned children fell into the Grey
Stalker's purview. Though she had to admit, if only to herself, that her
definition of 'abandoned' children probably wouldn't match that of their
parents. She defined any argument between such a parent and such a child
as 'abandonment.' It gave her a far wider choice of prey, for it was the
rare child indeed who never argued with his or her parents. However,
this offer, coming voluntarily from the boy's guardian, most definitely
put this tasty morsel within her reach.
*******
When I saw The Boy Who Lived, all the pieces fell into place. I'd heard
the Headmaster speak of an ancient magic that would protect Harry when
he was in the care of his family. The woman and the boy… they must be
Potter's Muggle relations. The ones that no one at Hogwarts seemed to
think very highly of! Was the family so poor that they had to dress
Potter like a beggar? But the aunt and the cousin had been dressed well
enough, in their strange Muggle way. It was a puzzle…
By the time I'd collected my wits, Potter, the woman and the boy were
out of my sight, hidden among the crowd of people on the street. They
were getting further away, but I could still feel the power that bound
the three of them. It would be easy enough for me to follow, if I chose.
Mrs. Norris jumped lightly down from my arms. Taking a few steps in the
direction that Potter and his family had gone, she looked back at me and
gave a loud mew.
"Is it necessary go after him, my sweet?" I asked her. "He's with his
family after all. It's none of our concern, really. Between his own
magic and that protective spell around all of them, nothing harmful
should be able to touch him."
Mrs. Norris flicked an ear at me in an impatient way and headed down the
street, a small grey panther slinking through a forest of legs.
"Very well…" I sighed. Mrs. Norris' opinions on such matters are not to
be dismissed lightly. I followed her, pushing my way past staring
Muggles. Some were snickering. Others wore expressions of concern and
pity.
I glared. It wasn't as if I was doing anything unusual. I was merely
speaking to my cat, not juggling purple balls of flame! Didn't Muggles
ever talk to their cats?
Potter and his relations were getting further away. Mrs. Norris moves
much faster than I do. Keeping her in sight wasn't easy. London was so
hot, so many people, so many noisy, wretched cars…
I'd just followed Mrs. Norris across a busy thoroughfare (both of us
escaped being struck by moving vehicles, in my case by inches) when I
was assaulted by a sudden wave of foul magic.
At first the stench of Darkness was indistinguishable from the reek of a
large metal container full of rubbish, standing in a shadowy alley
between grubby brick buildings. By the time I realized the danger, it
was already too late to defend myself.
Small hands, callused and strong, had seized my right arm in a grip as
unbreakable as an iron manacle. I was swung forward, striking my head
against the corner of one of the brick buildings.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the alley. Choking on
the combined stink of garbage and Dark magic, I became aware that
someone or something was gripping my shoulders and sniffing at me.
"Easy prey, this one, no need to waste my dart here. And there's some
magic in him…," a sibilant, female voice hissed. The creature was
breathing in my face. Her breath was even worse than Fluffy's.
"But, how to get at it?" The voice was filled with frustration. "He's a
tough, old nut. Too hard to crack his shell! And the meal would be a
meager one, hardly worth the time and effort. The boy will be sweeter
meat. A succulent feast…!"Now, I could hear the foul thing licking her
lips.
Could there be any doubt which boy she was referring to? Potter has a
highly-developed gift for attracting trouble in every possible form.
Merlin's Beard… couldn't he even walk down a street? Professor Snape
swears up and down that Potter does this sort of thing on purpose. I
have come to believe that the boy doesn't mean to attract danger, he
can't help it, any more than poor Neville can help the fact that he's
clumsy.
"You can't have the boy…" I gasped, struggling to open my eyes. When I
succeeded, my dubious reward was the sight of what appeared to be a
small, swarthy, dark haired woman. She was dressed in shabby grey robes.
I didn't think that she was a Death Eater, or one of the Dark Lord's
minions. The Darkness that surrounded her was different, far more
ancient and terribly hungry.
She gave me an evil smile that seemed to contain far too many teeth.
"Who's going to stop me then? You, Broken Wizard? Whatever small magic
you have is locked away from you."
With a cackling laugh, she let my head drop to the pavement. The pain
was like an explosion of Filibuster Fireworks in my skull.
*******
Clothes shopping is boring at the best of times, not that Harry was
really familiar with it. His experience with buying clothes had been
limited to walking into Madam Malkins', getting his robes hemmed and
then going off to get ice cream. Buying dress robes (please, no Yule
Ball next year!) might have been different, but Mrs. Weasley had done
that chore for him.
Buying clothes for Dudley went beyond boring. Harry found himself
wishing to be back in History of Magic. At least there he could put his
head down and go to sleep. Here he had to stay awake and guard Aunt
Petunia's purse and all the purchases. There was exactly one package in
there for him, his new underwear. He'd asked for some in front of too
many witnesses for Aunt Petunia to say 'no'. He'd pay for it later, he
knew, but he wasn't about to pass up a chance for some decent fitting
under things.
Dudley wasn't helping matters any. His constant whining was finally
getting on even his doting mother's nerves. "That was the last fitting,
Duddy-kins," she cooed. "Now we can have a nice tea before going home."
"I want a hamburger," whined Dudley.
Harry actually sympathized. He had never been to any of Aunt Petunia's
teas, of course, but having cleaned up after them, he'd noticed that the
food seemed to consist of undersized sandwiches and little-bitty cakes
too small to even taste. He'd rather have a hamburger, too. Not that he
was going to get either tea or burger, he sighed to himself.
He was startled out of his reverie when Aunt Petunia scooped the
packages out of his arms. "We're going inside for a final fitting.
There's a good restaurant in there that serves tea. Stay here and I'll
bring you the leftovers."
Leftovers? From a meal of Dudley's? Harry sighed, but Petunia just
glared at him. "If you're not here when we come out, you'll have to make
your own way home. I'm not putting myself out over a brat like you."
Harry sighed again as Petunia and Dudley disappeared into the shop's
cool interior. He considered slipping back to the Leaky Cauldron, he
didn't have any money on him, or even his Gringott's key, but he bet
that Tom would give him credit. He got up and looked around, then gave
up. All the different errands had him so turned around that he had no
idea which way the Leaky Cauldron was from here. He slumped onto a bench
and tried to remember the name of the stores that flanked the wizarding
tavern.
"Are you all right, dear?"
Harry looked up to see a small, swarthy dark haired woman dressed in a
shapeless grey pantsuit.
"You seemed a bit lost," the woman continued. There was something
strange about her mouth. It reminded him somehow of some wild Japanese
movie he'd caught Dudley watching once, where the actors words didn't
synchronize with the lip movements.
A lifetime of being told not to talk to strangers combined with recent
events to make him feel a trifle wary, if not outright paranoid. So
Harry answered cautiously. "Erm, no, ma'am, I was just trying to
remember the name of a record shop that we just passed. It was right
next to a bookstore, too," Harry thought that was safe enough. All the
lessons in manners he'd gotten from his Aunt actually agreed with his
first year DADA classes… keep a civil tongue in your head when spoken
to.
"Do you mean the ones that flank the Leaky Cauldron?"
Harry's eyes went wide. Then her dark eyes flickered to his forehead and
he realized she knew who he was. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, shifting his
weight uneasily.
"The music store is called Musically Inclined. It's as Muggle as they
come. The bookstore is called The Tattered Cover. You can find a great
many Muggle works there, and a great many more Wizarding books in there.
The proprietors were there long before Diagon Alley was closed to
Muggles."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Harry said politely. He gave her his best 'I have no
idea what McGonagall is talking about, so I hope she doesn't call on me'
look."
Would you like directions, Mr. Potter?" the woman sounded happy. For
some reason, Harry didn't share her emotion. What he wanted was for his
aunt and cousin to come out of the store so they could head for home.
Even more, he wanted Dumbledore or Hagrid to show up. Even Snape would
have been welcome at this point.
"No thank you," Harry said. "I was just wondering."
"Not thinking of how good some of Tom's shepherd's pie would taste right
now?"
Now that she mentioned it, Harry's thoughts drifted that way. His
stomach growled. "Thank you, but I have to wait until my Aunt Petunia
gets back."
"Such an obedient child," she said that like it was an advantage to her.
"Where is your family?"
"Having tea," Harry said, growing more uneasy by the moment.
"And you didn't want any," the woman said firmly. "I don't blame you.
Little cucumber sandwiches never did much for me." She paused and her
mouth twisted up into a little smile. One that showed no teeth. Harry
was having doubts about which species she belonged to.
"I have a suggestion, young Potter," The woman turned and pointed to a
fish and chips shop with a walkup window. "The owner of that shop is a
kindly woman with a great many grandchildren. She loathes to see
children go hungry. If you offer to lend a hand tidying up the place,
she would be happy to give you a bite to eat."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Harry said.
"You are quite welcome, Mr. Potter," the woman(?) inclined her head and
walked away.
Harry watched after her until she disappeared into the crowd. He looked
over at the fish and chips shop wistfully. He had no idea how long Aunt
Petunia and Dudley would be, and he hadn't eaten since yesterday
evening. And all he'd had then was diet food.
He decided that it couldn't hurt to ask.
It took a while to get to the front of the line, apparently they were a
popular eating place. When he got to the front of the line, he spoke to
a sweet faced woman that didn't look old enough to be anybody's
grandmother. But when he told her that he was waiting for his relatives,
but had forgotten his lunch money, she suggested the same solution as
the grey woman had.
"We're awfully busy, sweetie. If I can get you to clear off the tables,
then I don't have to send one of my cooks out there to clean up. That
will help me out tremendously. When you finish, come around to the back
door and I'll give you a bite."
When Harry finished the clean up, he looked around. The line at the
front of the counter had thinned out considerably. The sweet faced woman
smiled at him and pointed to an alley that presumably lead to the back
door. Harry nodded. He looked back towards Beau Brummels. Still no sign
of his aunt or Dudley. He estimated that he'd only been working for half
an hour or so. He could get his food and bring it back to where Aunt
Petunia had left him. The set up seemed almost too good, but he couldn't
see any flaw in the plan. So he went around to the back.
*******
The fish and chips woman, who was as kindly as she looked, wondered why
the boy never came for his food. Probably ran into the relatives he'd
been waiting for, she decided. She never thought to search the alley.
After all, there had been no unusual noises from there.
To Be Continued...