**Ok, new chapter finally up.... some smart, keen-eyed observer (::wink::)
has informed me that they have absolutely no idea what Charlotte looks
like. ::smacks forehead:: dur hur, oops, guess i forgot that TINY
detail.... i'm such a ditz like that sometimes.... apologies! sorry for not
updating for so long, but this chap is really long, so.....enjoy.... :P**
After visiting my new vault and withdrawing an assortment of coins, we headed out of the bank to do our actual shopping. Not quite over the shock of the Dr. Seuss-type characters walking around, I stared, almost to the point of rudeness. But I wasn't the only one staring. One old witch actually came up, plucked at my baseball-style t-shirt, and walked off muttering something about "young hooligans, turning over to the Muggle society." Harry leaned on a brick wall, laughing. I scowled, looking down at my clothes. I walked up beside him, looking at my reflection in a plate glass window of some shop.
"What's wrong with it?" I said, mock-serious. I patted my dark chestnut brown hair pretentiously. I had put it into a flippy upside-down bun, front parted way over on the left side and swept across my forehead in an edgy Audrey Hepburn likeness. I had, as usual, eyes lined in black, lids covered in a dark brown-bronze color, but not much else. Eye make-up was customarily the only thing I wore. I was wearing my favorite shirt, three quarter black sleeves and collar, with white down to the hips. As my eyes traveled lower, I saw my second-favorite pair of jeans: six-month old, light blue, straight-legged Calvin Kleins, cuffed at the bottom. And basically the only shoes I ever wore, black and white Converse tennis. I wrinkled my nose at my reflection, crinkling the surprisingly dark blue eyes surrounded by black, and turned back to Harry. He was grinning at me, the image of the tiny bent old woman giving me fashion tips still in his head. Now, there was another person with startling looks. Jet-black hair, sticking up in all directions, with bright emerald green eyes peering out from the long bangs. He was also extremely tall, standing three inches taller than my own five foot eight. His clothes were baggy, and he was quite self-conscious about them, despite my efforts in trying to convince him that all the guys in America wore baggy clothes. He had told me all his clothes had once belonged to Dudley, making me lean even more toward the belief that the Dursleys were absolutely horrible people. He was wearing a large black t-shirt, baggy dark blue jeans, and some offbrand sneakers. The girls would have gone wild for this guy at home, I thought wryly. Harry clapped his hands together.
"Well, what's first on your list?" he asked, walking over to me. I dug the piece of paper out of my pocket and inspected it. I stuffed it back in my pocket, making a face.
"New robes," I said distastefully, glancing at Harry. "I know it'll be extremely boring, so if you want you can just show me the shop and go get some of your stuff." He shook his head.
"No, I've got to get some too," he said, ducking his head. "Getting a bit drafty around the ankles, you know?" I giggled and waved my hand.
"Lead the way, then," I said, and followed him down the cobbled street.
The tiny bell jingled merrily as we entered. Unlike I thought it would be from the drawn curtains, the clothing shop was cheerily lit and welcoming. The witch that bustled up to us was pleasantly plump, and helpful.
"Ah, in need of some new school robes, are you?" she asked us kindly. Harry and I looked at each other, then nodded affirmatively. "Well, then, you've come to the right place, haven't you! Come with me, then," she said, then winked. I grinned at Harry and followed her to a separate room. There were two stools that I recognized to be standing platforms, and mirrors on all the walls. She pointed to the middle of the room. "Take your shoes off, each of you, and stand on those, please," she said, and waddled out again. I flipped off my shoes and wiggled my toes, covered by bright red socks with white stripes. Harry laughed and took off his as well, sitting down on the square platform. I sat on the opposite one and looked around. This room, too, was lit by tall lanterns with candles in them. I turned to Harry curiously.
"They really don't have electricity here?" I asked, looking at him. "I mean, we didn't either, at school, but everywhere else..." I trailed off, and he nodded.
"I know, it is kind of weird at first," he said, kicking at the floor. "I suppose it's because it's too magical around here. Not to say your people are any less than the English," he said hurredly. I grinned wryly. "But...I don't know. I couldn't imagine these people with all the modern technology in their lives. It's a bit like the old fashioned-ness is a part of them, you know?" I nodded.
"It does seem like American witches and wizards have lost their spirit," I commented, probing my shoe with my big toe. I remembered the teenaged witches around the Block, our 'Diagon Alley', how they chattered away on cell phones just like it was the mall. I told Harry as much, and he looked scandalized.
"If you tried to talk on a phone while even walking past the outside of the Leaky Cauldron, it would go haywire," he said disapprovingly. I shrugged.
"I like it better here," I said quietly. "It's more quiet, and the people are more genuine. Everything in America is fake, or processed. It's no fun," I added. Harry started to answer, but the old witch was back, black cloth draped over her left arm and a big sewing basket in her right. She set all this down on a table in the corner and smiled.
"All right, up on the stools," she said, clapping her hands. We complied quickly and she started measuring us with deft hands. After she was done, she wrote the numbers on a sheet of parchment. She took this and excused herself once more. Harry cleared his throat.
"So, ah, you've seen my family," he said, making conversation. "Tell me what yours is like." I wrinkled my nose.
"Well, I never knew my dad," I began. Harry made a sympathetic sound. "He died before I was born. And my mom died when I was about four, so I don't really remember her. I've lived with my stepfather since then. I don't know why my mom married him. He's nice, I guess, but completely distant. He treats me as though he would a pet. He gives me money to buy clothes and school things, and thinks that's all I need. I've never gone wanting, in the way of material things," I corrected myself. "But, I've never really gotten close to anyone. You're probably the closest friend I've ever had, in fact," I told him. I shot a sidelong glance at him, hoping I didn't seem like a snobby rich kid. He nodded understandingly.
"I do have money," he said bluntly. "But, well, you saw the family. Never a kind word from Petunia, Vernon, or Dudley Dursley." So, he was in the same position I was. Not quite. "If it weren't for my two friends, and Sirius, I'd not be able to handle it." I looked at the floor, and there was an awkward silence. "So! tell me about your school, in, Massachusetts, was it?" he said, changing the subject. I was grateful, and proceeded to tell him all about it.
Newly purchased black robes for school, wrapped up in brown paper parcels, were tucked firmly under our arms as we continued down Diagon Alley.
"What next?" asked Harry methodically. I pulled the list out of my pocket briefly, then pushed it back in with my index finger.
"Books, writing stuff, you know, paper, quills, and stuff, and I thought maybe I could get a pet," I told him, trying not to let the excitement into my voice. "And, you know, I thought we'd just look around." He nodded.
"Right, let's see," he said thoughtfully. "The book store is right over there, and Flourish and Blotts, that's the place to get writing things, is two stores down. And there's a pet store right across from that Quidditch shop." Harry turned to me suddenly. "Do you play Quidditch at all?" he asked, an odd gleam in his eye. I shook my head, and his face fell slightly.
"I've never really watched a game, or picked up a broomstick, or played it," I replied, and he seemed to cheer up at that. He winked at me.
"I'll teach you about it, when we get to school," he said seriously. I nodded, grinning at him. "My friends, my godfather, and Quidditch, have helped me survive the Dursleys," he said, and I laughed.
"Come on, clown," I said jokingly. "We can goof around after the serious work is done." He led me down the street to a bookstore with piles and piles of books on display in the window. I walked in and was greeted by the smell of paper. A rather hassled-looking man stood behind the counter, and walked, irritated, over to us.
"School books?" he asked bluntly. We nodded, afraid to cross him anymore than he already was. "What year," he said gruffly.
"Fifth," Harry and I said in unison. He disappeared into a back room and reappeared with two piles of books. He dropped them rather carelessly on the counter, and punched a few numbers into the old cash register. Harry stepped up boldly to the counter, his moneybag clenched tightly in his hand.
"Eight galleons and four sickles, each, please," said the cashier, speaking a bit more kindly than before. Harry and I quickly counted out the amount and gave it to the man. He gave us a tiny smile and wrapped up the books with lightning speed. I flashed him a toothy grin, hoping to encourage him. He smiled back.
"Have a nice day," said Harry, grinning too. The man tipped his head slightly.
"You too," he said, obviously in a much better mood than before. "And have a fun time at school." We said good-bye and left.
Harry and I walked more slowly across the street. Our purchases were beginning to get heavy. We hobbled into the store called Flourish and Blotts and set it all gratefully on a table next to the door. An old, kind- looking man looked up when we came in, and smiled.
"Here for school supplies?" he asked, raising a furry white eyebrow. I smiled charmingly.
"How does everyone know that?" I asked jokingly. The old man gave me a smile, showing teeth in surprisingly good condition.
"Ah, just a feeling," he replied, winking at me. "One moment, I'll get the year's supply deal, for each of you." He disappeared through a door. I looked around the tiny shop. There were posters up on the wall, showing the type of strokes each style of quill made, and different colored inks. The old man returned, carrying two already wrapped packages of presumably a school year's supply parchment, quills, and ink. Harry and I each paid for it, and were out the door within five minutes.
"Why are you so nice to people?" he asked suddenly, as we walked toward the pet store. I started at the unexpected inquiry. "I mean, you don't have to be so, I don't know, cheerful, but you are. You try to make those people feel special, and you don't even know them," he said, looking curiously at me. I blushed.
"Oh! well, I, um, I don't know," I sputtered. "I hadn't really thought about it before," I said, faintly surprised. I thought of the man in the bookstore. "The guy wasn't looking too happy, so I smiled at him. I just figured it would make him feel better," I ended lamely, not knowing how to explain. "It just seemed like the nice thing to do." The subject was dropped and we were silent until we reached Eyelops Owl Emporium. Harry held the door open gentlemanly; I ducked my head in thanks and entered the store. Upon doing so, my nose was greeted by a number of different scents, most of them of the less pleasant aspects of the animals' anatomies.
I nodded politely at the black-haired, greasy-looking witch at the counter and proceeded to browse through all the interesting pets. There were a variety of things that I had never seen before, most of them looking a bit dangerous, but I made a beeline for the owl section. There were all sorts of species: barn owls, eagle owls, even tiny owls that could fit in the palm of your hand. I was particularly drawn to a dark one in the corner. It was a deep sooty black, speckled white like pepper around its beak and eyes, and some on its stomach, but everything else was black. I glided up to the cage, eyes locked with the honey-colored ones. I tore my eyes away from the gorgeous bird and forced myself to look at the price tag. Sooty Owl, Male, 75 Galleons, it sparkled tauntingly at me. My jaw dropped. I dug through my change purse, heart sinking. I came up with 74 galleons, 7 sickles, and 3 knuts. Not enough, I thought sorrowfully. I had never before taken advantage of my stepfather's wealth. In fact, I had shied away from it, trying not to spend money that I didn't need to. This was the first thing I could remember that I wanted bad enough to spend his "tainted" money on. I put my hand up to the brass cage and smiled sadly at the somber eyes.
"Sorry, bud," I whispered. I let my hand fall, feeling defeated. Suddenly, Harry came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. He shoved five shiny gold galleons into my hand and grinned at me. I stared from his face, to the cold coins pressed into my hands, and back to him again. The green eyes sparkled kindly at me. I felt tears well up and started to say something, but he stopped me.
"You've been the ideal friend this past summer," he said, holding my hand firmly to keep the money from falling out of it. "And it's the least I could do." I tried to argue, but he interrupted again. "Just get me a good Christmas present, hey?" I stared for a few more moments, then tightened my fingers around the cool metals. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed whole-heartedly.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"You are welcome," came his muffled voice. He chuckled. "As nice as this hug is, you're kind of choking me...?" I let go and laughed shakily, facing him. He was still smiling. "Well?" he said jokingly. "Are you going to buy this guy or not?" I nodded and he followed me up to the cash register.
"I'd like to buy that owl, right there, please," I told the old hag. She hauled herself off of the stool behind the counter, groaning, and started to hobble over to the owl section. I saw that it was a very labored process, and stopped her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see that you were, - well, ah, I'll just bring it up to the register, won't I?" I ended, returning the grateful smile. I bounded over to the owl about to belong to me and removed it from the brass rack. I carried it carefully back to the hag and set it on the counter. She tapped a few keys on an ancient cash register and it crashed open.
"You'll want something to keep the beak sharpened, I think?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded happily. She pointed to a shelf full of them and I chose one in the shape of Elvis's head. "You can feed him table scraps, you know, so there's no need to buy extra food." I nodded and flopped the chunk of wood down on the counter. She rang up the items.
"78 galleons and 5 sickles, please," said the witch with a smile, showing the absence of more than a few important teeth. I smiled back and dumped the money into her hands. I dropped the extra back into Harry's hands and he shoved the coins chinking into his baggy pocket. She handed me the piece of wood.
"Would you like to put it in?" she asked. I nodded again and took the Elvis sharpener. I opened the cage slowly, eyes locked with the owl's. I put my hand by itself in first. I saw the feathers stiffen and paused, making a soothing noise. My hand finally reached the shiny softness and I stroked his back gleefully. He ruffled his feathers blissfully and made a cooing sound. I took my hand out, grabbed the chunk of wood, and stuck it on one of the bars. I gave him one last pat and closed the cage again. I watched for a few moments as he poked curiously at the intrusion, then bit it comfortably. I grinned at Harry, positively glowing, and threw my arms around him once more.
"Thank you so much!" I said, squeaking a little. He laughed and disentangled himself from my grasp.
"Come on, let's go celebrate," he said, gathering up his stuff once more. I did the same, struggling with the bulk of the cage. Seeing me struggle in trying to gather up the last two of my bags, he came over and picked them up. I moved to take them from him, but he held them away. I made a face.
"You've already helped me tons already," I argued. "No more helping!" He grinned and shook his head.
"Just go," he ordered. I obeyed, trudging out onto the sidewalk. I let him catch up and he led us to an ice cream shop with an outdoor patio. I followed him through the gate and set the cage and bags down, panting. I sank into a chair and fanned myself emphatically. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I'll just go order us some milkshakes, shall I?" he said. I knew he was waiting for me to protest, and I fell for it. I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted me. I tried again.
"But-," I tried again.
"No," he said. I gave an agitated sigh, but had to hide a smile. What is this, an Austin Powers movie? I thought amusedly. He turned around abruptly and marched through the doorway. Mule, I told him in my mind. He just had to win, didn't he? I closed my eyes and enjoyed the small breeze playing across my face. I opened them again to the sound of my new pet poking at the bars. He looked at me somberly.
"Hey, dude, are you hungry?" I asked, leaning forward slightly. As though he understood me, he cocked his head to one side, almost teasingly. I grinned and started to say something, but Harry was back. He set an enormous mug on the table, and I raised an eyebrow. He grinned.
"Oh, chocolate," he said. "Most definitely chocolate." I shrugged and took a big swig through the provided straw. Cold, creamy chocolate ice cream filled my mouth, and I closed my eyes in bliss.
"Mmm," I said through the mouthful. "Ish gud." Harry snickered and I opened my eyes. He took a gulp of his own and sat down. We both were silent for a while, enjoying the rare sunny day and listening to each other slurp.
"Harry!" someone yelled loudly behind me. I jumped, spilling some of my shake on the table. Harry snorted, but quieted at my glare. He peered around me and his face lit up. He stood up abruptly, almost knocking over his own drink, and practically leaped over the small gate surrounding the patio. I turned around to see a small crowd of redheaded people, accompanied by a pretty girl with bushy brown hair. Harry took turns hugging everyone, then remembered me and turned around. He waved emphatically at me, face glowing. I grinned at stood up, preparing myself to meet my first real British wizards.
After visiting my new vault and withdrawing an assortment of coins, we headed out of the bank to do our actual shopping. Not quite over the shock of the Dr. Seuss-type characters walking around, I stared, almost to the point of rudeness. But I wasn't the only one staring. One old witch actually came up, plucked at my baseball-style t-shirt, and walked off muttering something about "young hooligans, turning over to the Muggle society." Harry leaned on a brick wall, laughing. I scowled, looking down at my clothes. I walked up beside him, looking at my reflection in a plate glass window of some shop.
"What's wrong with it?" I said, mock-serious. I patted my dark chestnut brown hair pretentiously. I had put it into a flippy upside-down bun, front parted way over on the left side and swept across my forehead in an edgy Audrey Hepburn likeness. I had, as usual, eyes lined in black, lids covered in a dark brown-bronze color, but not much else. Eye make-up was customarily the only thing I wore. I was wearing my favorite shirt, three quarter black sleeves and collar, with white down to the hips. As my eyes traveled lower, I saw my second-favorite pair of jeans: six-month old, light blue, straight-legged Calvin Kleins, cuffed at the bottom. And basically the only shoes I ever wore, black and white Converse tennis. I wrinkled my nose at my reflection, crinkling the surprisingly dark blue eyes surrounded by black, and turned back to Harry. He was grinning at me, the image of the tiny bent old woman giving me fashion tips still in his head. Now, there was another person with startling looks. Jet-black hair, sticking up in all directions, with bright emerald green eyes peering out from the long bangs. He was also extremely tall, standing three inches taller than my own five foot eight. His clothes were baggy, and he was quite self-conscious about them, despite my efforts in trying to convince him that all the guys in America wore baggy clothes. He had told me all his clothes had once belonged to Dudley, making me lean even more toward the belief that the Dursleys were absolutely horrible people. He was wearing a large black t-shirt, baggy dark blue jeans, and some offbrand sneakers. The girls would have gone wild for this guy at home, I thought wryly. Harry clapped his hands together.
"Well, what's first on your list?" he asked, walking over to me. I dug the piece of paper out of my pocket and inspected it. I stuffed it back in my pocket, making a face.
"New robes," I said distastefully, glancing at Harry. "I know it'll be extremely boring, so if you want you can just show me the shop and go get some of your stuff." He shook his head.
"No, I've got to get some too," he said, ducking his head. "Getting a bit drafty around the ankles, you know?" I giggled and waved my hand.
"Lead the way, then," I said, and followed him down the cobbled street.
The tiny bell jingled merrily as we entered. Unlike I thought it would be from the drawn curtains, the clothing shop was cheerily lit and welcoming. The witch that bustled up to us was pleasantly plump, and helpful.
"Ah, in need of some new school robes, are you?" she asked us kindly. Harry and I looked at each other, then nodded affirmatively. "Well, then, you've come to the right place, haven't you! Come with me, then," she said, then winked. I grinned at Harry and followed her to a separate room. There were two stools that I recognized to be standing platforms, and mirrors on all the walls. She pointed to the middle of the room. "Take your shoes off, each of you, and stand on those, please," she said, and waddled out again. I flipped off my shoes and wiggled my toes, covered by bright red socks with white stripes. Harry laughed and took off his as well, sitting down on the square platform. I sat on the opposite one and looked around. This room, too, was lit by tall lanterns with candles in them. I turned to Harry curiously.
"They really don't have electricity here?" I asked, looking at him. "I mean, we didn't either, at school, but everywhere else..." I trailed off, and he nodded.
"I know, it is kind of weird at first," he said, kicking at the floor. "I suppose it's because it's too magical around here. Not to say your people are any less than the English," he said hurredly. I grinned wryly. "But...I don't know. I couldn't imagine these people with all the modern technology in their lives. It's a bit like the old fashioned-ness is a part of them, you know?" I nodded.
"It does seem like American witches and wizards have lost their spirit," I commented, probing my shoe with my big toe. I remembered the teenaged witches around the Block, our 'Diagon Alley', how they chattered away on cell phones just like it was the mall. I told Harry as much, and he looked scandalized.
"If you tried to talk on a phone while even walking past the outside of the Leaky Cauldron, it would go haywire," he said disapprovingly. I shrugged.
"I like it better here," I said quietly. "It's more quiet, and the people are more genuine. Everything in America is fake, or processed. It's no fun," I added. Harry started to answer, but the old witch was back, black cloth draped over her left arm and a big sewing basket in her right. She set all this down on a table in the corner and smiled.
"All right, up on the stools," she said, clapping her hands. We complied quickly and she started measuring us with deft hands. After she was done, she wrote the numbers on a sheet of parchment. She took this and excused herself once more. Harry cleared his throat.
"So, ah, you've seen my family," he said, making conversation. "Tell me what yours is like." I wrinkled my nose.
"Well, I never knew my dad," I began. Harry made a sympathetic sound. "He died before I was born. And my mom died when I was about four, so I don't really remember her. I've lived with my stepfather since then. I don't know why my mom married him. He's nice, I guess, but completely distant. He treats me as though he would a pet. He gives me money to buy clothes and school things, and thinks that's all I need. I've never gone wanting, in the way of material things," I corrected myself. "But, I've never really gotten close to anyone. You're probably the closest friend I've ever had, in fact," I told him. I shot a sidelong glance at him, hoping I didn't seem like a snobby rich kid. He nodded understandingly.
"I do have money," he said bluntly. "But, well, you saw the family. Never a kind word from Petunia, Vernon, or Dudley Dursley." So, he was in the same position I was. Not quite. "If it weren't for my two friends, and Sirius, I'd not be able to handle it." I looked at the floor, and there was an awkward silence. "So! tell me about your school, in, Massachusetts, was it?" he said, changing the subject. I was grateful, and proceeded to tell him all about it.
Newly purchased black robes for school, wrapped up in brown paper parcels, were tucked firmly under our arms as we continued down Diagon Alley.
"What next?" asked Harry methodically. I pulled the list out of my pocket briefly, then pushed it back in with my index finger.
"Books, writing stuff, you know, paper, quills, and stuff, and I thought maybe I could get a pet," I told him, trying not to let the excitement into my voice. "And, you know, I thought we'd just look around." He nodded.
"Right, let's see," he said thoughtfully. "The book store is right over there, and Flourish and Blotts, that's the place to get writing things, is two stores down. And there's a pet store right across from that Quidditch shop." Harry turned to me suddenly. "Do you play Quidditch at all?" he asked, an odd gleam in his eye. I shook my head, and his face fell slightly.
"I've never really watched a game, or picked up a broomstick, or played it," I replied, and he seemed to cheer up at that. He winked at me.
"I'll teach you about it, when we get to school," he said seriously. I nodded, grinning at him. "My friends, my godfather, and Quidditch, have helped me survive the Dursleys," he said, and I laughed.
"Come on, clown," I said jokingly. "We can goof around after the serious work is done." He led me down the street to a bookstore with piles and piles of books on display in the window. I walked in and was greeted by the smell of paper. A rather hassled-looking man stood behind the counter, and walked, irritated, over to us.
"School books?" he asked bluntly. We nodded, afraid to cross him anymore than he already was. "What year," he said gruffly.
"Fifth," Harry and I said in unison. He disappeared into a back room and reappeared with two piles of books. He dropped them rather carelessly on the counter, and punched a few numbers into the old cash register. Harry stepped up boldly to the counter, his moneybag clenched tightly in his hand.
"Eight galleons and four sickles, each, please," said the cashier, speaking a bit more kindly than before. Harry and I quickly counted out the amount and gave it to the man. He gave us a tiny smile and wrapped up the books with lightning speed. I flashed him a toothy grin, hoping to encourage him. He smiled back.
"Have a nice day," said Harry, grinning too. The man tipped his head slightly.
"You too," he said, obviously in a much better mood than before. "And have a fun time at school." We said good-bye and left.
Harry and I walked more slowly across the street. Our purchases were beginning to get heavy. We hobbled into the store called Flourish and Blotts and set it all gratefully on a table next to the door. An old, kind- looking man looked up when we came in, and smiled.
"Here for school supplies?" he asked, raising a furry white eyebrow. I smiled charmingly.
"How does everyone know that?" I asked jokingly. The old man gave me a smile, showing teeth in surprisingly good condition.
"Ah, just a feeling," he replied, winking at me. "One moment, I'll get the year's supply deal, for each of you." He disappeared through a door. I looked around the tiny shop. There were posters up on the wall, showing the type of strokes each style of quill made, and different colored inks. The old man returned, carrying two already wrapped packages of presumably a school year's supply parchment, quills, and ink. Harry and I each paid for it, and were out the door within five minutes.
"Why are you so nice to people?" he asked suddenly, as we walked toward the pet store. I started at the unexpected inquiry. "I mean, you don't have to be so, I don't know, cheerful, but you are. You try to make those people feel special, and you don't even know them," he said, looking curiously at me. I blushed.
"Oh! well, I, um, I don't know," I sputtered. "I hadn't really thought about it before," I said, faintly surprised. I thought of the man in the bookstore. "The guy wasn't looking too happy, so I smiled at him. I just figured it would make him feel better," I ended lamely, not knowing how to explain. "It just seemed like the nice thing to do." The subject was dropped and we were silent until we reached Eyelops Owl Emporium. Harry held the door open gentlemanly; I ducked my head in thanks and entered the store. Upon doing so, my nose was greeted by a number of different scents, most of them of the less pleasant aspects of the animals' anatomies.
I nodded politely at the black-haired, greasy-looking witch at the counter and proceeded to browse through all the interesting pets. There were a variety of things that I had never seen before, most of them looking a bit dangerous, but I made a beeline for the owl section. There were all sorts of species: barn owls, eagle owls, even tiny owls that could fit in the palm of your hand. I was particularly drawn to a dark one in the corner. It was a deep sooty black, speckled white like pepper around its beak and eyes, and some on its stomach, but everything else was black. I glided up to the cage, eyes locked with the honey-colored ones. I tore my eyes away from the gorgeous bird and forced myself to look at the price tag. Sooty Owl, Male, 75 Galleons, it sparkled tauntingly at me. My jaw dropped. I dug through my change purse, heart sinking. I came up with 74 galleons, 7 sickles, and 3 knuts. Not enough, I thought sorrowfully. I had never before taken advantage of my stepfather's wealth. In fact, I had shied away from it, trying not to spend money that I didn't need to. This was the first thing I could remember that I wanted bad enough to spend his "tainted" money on. I put my hand up to the brass cage and smiled sadly at the somber eyes.
"Sorry, bud," I whispered. I let my hand fall, feeling defeated. Suddenly, Harry came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. He shoved five shiny gold galleons into my hand and grinned at me. I stared from his face, to the cold coins pressed into my hands, and back to him again. The green eyes sparkled kindly at me. I felt tears well up and started to say something, but he stopped me.
"You've been the ideal friend this past summer," he said, holding my hand firmly to keep the money from falling out of it. "And it's the least I could do." I tried to argue, but he interrupted again. "Just get me a good Christmas present, hey?" I stared for a few more moments, then tightened my fingers around the cool metals. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed whole-heartedly.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"You are welcome," came his muffled voice. He chuckled. "As nice as this hug is, you're kind of choking me...?" I let go and laughed shakily, facing him. He was still smiling. "Well?" he said jokingly. "Are you going to buy this guy or not?" I nodded and he followed me up to the cash register.
"I'd like to buy that owl, right there, please," I told the old hag. She hauled herself off of the stool behind the counter, groaning, and started to hobble over to the owl section. I saw that it was a very labored process, and stopped her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't see that you were, - well, ah, I'll just bring it up to the register, won't I?" I ended, returning the grateful smile. I bounded over to the owl about to belong to me and removed it from the brass rack. I carried it carefully back to the hag and set it on the counter. She tapped a few keys on an ancient cash register and it crashed open.
"You'll want something to keep the beak sharpened, I think?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded happily. She pointed to a shelf full of them and I chose one in the shape of Elvis's head. "You can feed him table scraps, you know, so there's no need to buy extra food." I nodded and flopped the chunk of wood down on the counter. She rang up the items.
"78 galleons and 5 sickles, please," said the witch with a smile, showing the absence of more than a few important teeth. I smiled back and dumped the money into her hands. I dropped the extra back into Harry's hands and he shoved the coins chinking into his baggy pocket. She handed me the piece of wood.
"Would you like to put it in?" she asked. I nodded again and took the Elvis sharpener. I opened the cage slowly, eyes locked with the owl's. I put my hand by itself in first. I saw the feathers stiffen and paused, making a soothing noise. My hand finally reached the shiny softness and I stroked his back gleefully. He ruffled his feathers blissfully and made a cooing sound. I took my hand out, grabbed the chunk of wood, and stuck it on one of the bars. I gave him one last pat and closed the cage again. I watched for a few moments as he poked curiously at the intrusion, then bit it comfortably. I grinned at Harry, positively glowing, and threw my arms around him once more.
"Thank you so much!" I said, squeaking a little. He laughed and disentangled himself from my grasp.
"Come on, let's go celebrate," he said, gathering up his stuff once more. I did the same, struggling with the bulk of the cage. Seeing me struggle in trying to gather up the last two of my bags, he came over and picked them up. I moved to take them from him, but he held them away. I made a face.
"You've already helped me tons already," I argued. "No more helping!" He grinned and shook his head.
"Just go," he ordered. I obeyed, trudging out onto the sidewalk. I let him catch up and he led us to an ice cream shop with an outdoor patio. I followed him through the gate and set the cage and bags down, panting. I sank into a chair and fanned myself emphatically. Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I'll just go order us some milkshakes, shall I?" he said. I knew he was waiting for me to protest, and I fell for it. I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted me. I tried again.
"But-," I tried again.
"No," he said. I gave an agitated sigh, but had to hide a smile. What is this, an Austin Powers movie? I thought amusedly. He turned around abruptly and marched through the doorway. Mule, I told him in my mind. He just had to win, didn't he? I closed my eyes and enjoyed the small breeze playing across my face. I opened them again to the sound of my new pet poking at the bars. He looked at me somberly.
"Hey, dude, are you hungry?" I asked, leaning forward slightly. As though he understood me, he cocked his head to one side, almost teasingly. I grinned and started to say something, but Harry was back. He set an enormous mug on the table, and I raised an eyebrow. He grinned.
"Oh, chocolate," he said. "Most definitely chocolate." I shrugged and took a big swig through the provided straw. Cold, creamy chocolate ice cream filled my mouth, and I closed my eyes in bliss.
"Mmm," I said through the mouthful. "Ish gud." Harry snickered and I opened my eyes. He took a gulp of his own and sat down. We both were silent for a while, enjoying the rare sunny day and listening to each other slurp.
"Harry!" someone yelled loudly behind me. I jumped, spilling some of my shake on the table. Harry snorted, but quieted at my glare. He peered around me and his face lit up. He stood up abruptly, almost knocking over his own drink, and practically leaped over the small gate surrounding the patio. I turned around to see a small crowd of redheaded people, accompanied by a pretty girl with bushy brown hair. Harry took turns hugging everyone, then remembered me and turned around. He waved emphatically at me, face glowing. I grinned at stood up, preparing myself to meet my first real British wizards.