It's a new chappie! Oh, and thank you, my glorious reviewers!
Black Rose: I don't know how I got the italics in. And I'm using Word! *casts incendio on the screen* It doesn't work all the time. Just look at Hermione's letter in the first chapter! Can characters leave their paintings? Hmm. Ya gotta keep readin'!
kateydidnt: Just wait and see!
Baroness Jumping Rain; Sidda: Fun name!
Lord REls-chan
t.a.g.: Harry will have to decide. I'm just writing his actions. Yes, Severus is fascinating, isn't he? In the books he's just another hateable (is that a word?) character, but when I read fanfics about him I became an addict. *blushes*
Someone reading: You'll figure it out. I promise.
Sati: Thankx.
Thank you, Thank you! I love praise! But can anyone figure out why my spell-check tries to screw up my work every time? It's getting old!
Oh, and for those who say I don't sound British, I'm not. I've never been to the UK. So there are going to be minor grammatical issues . . . I'm sorry if this offends you in any way.
By the by . . . sorry for taking so long with this. I'm lazy! ^_^
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, don't you think I'd be getting paid for this fanfic? Sheesh . . .
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"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me . . ." Harry sang to himself as he walked. "Happy birthday dear me-e, happy birthday to meeeeeeeee." That morning, Professor McGonagall had sent him his yearly letter, envelope and all. Why she didn't just hand him a list of supplies baffled him. It just seemed like a waste of parchment.
Harry had remained awake the previous evening. He had wanted to continue his tradition of opening his birthday presents just after midnight. As a result, he was a little tipsy the following day.
Ron had sent Pig with an orb that flashed different colors at random intervals. Apparently, such items were all the rage in the wizarding world. Also, the accompanying letter described in great detail the lengths Mrs. Weasley was willing to take in order for Harry to spend in the Burrow.
The twins, Fred and George Weasley, had sent samples of their latest pranks, along with a letter asking for ideas and concepts for their new "Lightning" line of products. Harry didn't intend to send Errol anywhere for the next week or so.
Hermoine, being Hermione, sent a book on bizarre jinxes and hexes, along with the textbook she had borrowed. Harry had grinned at the reminder of all the curses and hexes he had researched the previous year for the tournament.
Harry had finally gone to sleep at around one that morning. Now he was in front of the office door. He took a deep breath, knocked, and entered.
"Thank you for coming, Mr. Potter. The floo powder is on the mantle." McGonagall nodded sternly at the fireplace and returned to whatever was on her desk. The fire was burning merrily, causing the room to become stiflingly hot. Harry took a quick look around her office. The walls were wooden, and there were moving photos of graduated students all along the walls. If the sheer number of pictures were any indication, she had been teaching for about fifty years. The furniture looked foreboding.
Harry stuffed his fingers into the indicated container on the mantle, took out a pinch of floo powder, and tossed it into the flames. "Diagon Alley!"
Harry stepped into the fireplace and shut his eyes. His previous experiences with floo powder had been rather unpleasant, and he preferred not to watch random fireplaces sweep by. The trip was quite sickening enough as it was.
Harry was suddenly spit out of a fireplace. He had arrived at Diagon Alley. He stumbled quickly out of the way in case someone else was about to floo to the same fireplace. Once out of range, Harry dusted himself off, wiped his glasses, and jogged his way through the crowd to get to Gringotts, the wizarding bank. He would need more wizarding gold in order to purchase all of his supplies.
He had missed the sight of Diagon Alley. There were venders selling their wares, and shoppers choosing from among them. Harry distinctly heard one wizard shout out, "Pig feathers, ten for a knut!"
On his way, he passed two students from his year. Justin Finch-Fletchley was entering the apothecary, probably to refill his potions making kit. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, was searching for his missing toad in front of the pet shop, Magical Menagerie. Harry trotted by before he could be roped into helping with the search.
Harry entered Gringotts and worked his way to the counter. "I would like to make a withdrawal."
The goblin didn't look impressed. "Name."
"Harry Potter."
"Key."
Harry handed over the key to his vault. The goblin inspected it minutely. "Everything seems in order." He handed the key to a second goblin. "Longhand will take you to your vault."
Longhand was a medium sized goblin with few identifying features about him, although he did have rather long fingers.
Longhand gave a mocking bow, and gestured for Harry to follow. They got into a cart, and traveled deep under the bank. Harry always enjoyed this part of the Gringotts experience. He loved the roller coaster feel of the almost out of control cart, and the stalagmites and stalactites were quite breathtaking—when they weren't going to decapitate him. By the time the cart came to a stop, Harry was grinning like mad.
Longhand opened the vault, exposing its contents. There were piles of gold galleons, stacks of silver sickles, and mountains of copper knuts. A small fortune was held within the vault. Harry strode in and filled his moneybag with an appropriate amount, keeping in mind that it had to last. After all, he had to make it through graduation before he could even think of getting a job.
The return trip was just as exciting and enjoyable as the first. Harry got out of the cart, waved farewell to Longhand, and left the bank on quivering legs. 'Maybe I don't like the rides . . .'
First, he went to Madam Malkins for a set of new school robes. Harry had grown a bit over the past year, although he was far from tall. He entered the shop.
"Hogwarts, dear?" A frazzled looking woman pulled Harry onto a stand and took his measurements so she could prepare his order. As she finished, a pair of Slytherins entered the shop. He sped through paying for his new robes and left before Crabbe and Goyle could really notice of his presence. Just because they were immensely stupid was no reason to take chances. Their fathers were Deatheaters, and could arrive at any moment.
That would not be pleasant.
Despite many common rumors, Harry did not have a death wish. He was perfectly happy being alive, and planned on staying that way.
Next, Harry went to the apothecary to refill his potions supplies, much as Finch-Fletchley had done earlier. He made sure to purchase a double amount of squirrel tongue. He had looked through the list of potions they would be making that year, and squirrel tongue had shown up on ingredient lists repeatedly.
After filling his potions kit, Harry entered Flourish and Blots. Upon taking out his list, he saw he needed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five, Mystic Standards, and Fireflies and Demons: A Text on Practical Defense. He blinked. It seemed that his Divinations professor, Trelawney, felt the need for a new textbook. He shrugged it off, remembering that they had more or less finished the last one.
'Fireflies and Demons . . .' He wondered who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was going to be that year. They had already had a two-faced man, a moron, a werewolf, and a Deatheater. Harry hoped for a normal year, with a reasonably normal set of professors. He shook his head as he gathered the textbooks, acknowledging the fact that his life was anything but normal.
"Hey, Harry!"
Harry froze, then turned his head cautiously, hoping that he had mistaken the voice. "Hello, Collin."
"Whatcha doin'? Do you know who's the new Defense professor? I hope whoever it is will be as good as Professor Moody. Does You-Know-Who know you're here? Does Dumbledore? Can I take your picture?" This was said in a rush, and it took Harry a moment to decipher the last question. Of course, by then Collin Creevy had already taken the shot. "Thanks, Harry!"
"Hey, Collin! Where are ya'?"
"Right here, Dennis!" he shouted back.
Harry snuck away while Collin told his brother about the picture he had taken of the Boy-Who-Lived. Now paying more attention to those around him, Harry paid for his textbooks and left the store.
A man and a boy, both blond, entered the store.
Upon his return to Hogwarts, Harry sighed in relief. He got away from the Creevy brothers with only a single photo taken of him. Now he just had to get his things to his dorm.
With a second sigh, he hefted his bags, and strode through the building towards the portrait of the Fat Lady.
The one who had watched him arrive back at the school got up, stretched, and slunk further into the castle.
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Has anyone else noticed how oblivious Harry is in this story?