Chapter Twelve: Diagon Alley
Summary: Twelfth chapter. Thirty-seven to go. That about sums it up.
When Harry came down to breakfast the next morning Sirius was already seated at the table while Arabella stood in front of the stove frying a pan of eggs. Harry walked over and stared down at the pan for a second.
"See something you don't recognize?" She asked with a smile.
"Looking in the right place." Sirius muttered from behind his edition of the Daily Prophet.
Arabella pointed a threatening spatula at him. "I heard you quite clearly, Sirius Black!" She stated harshly. "And no one is forcing you to eat at my table."
Sirius looked up, hopeful. "Does that mean I can leave then?"
"Sit!" Arabella snapped at him.
"But you said..."
"Sit!" She stated again.
Sirius sunk back in his chair and hid back behind the paper again.
Arabella turned a kind smile to Harry. "Now, what is it, Dear?"
"How come you always cook like a muggle, Arabella?" Harry asked. "Why don't you use magic?"
"Oh yes. Please." Came a plea from behind the paper.
Arabella turned an annoyed stare at the paper, then casually took out her wand and, pointing it at the paper, mutter a few words. Harry saw a small spark flare at the bottom of the paper.
"I like to cook, Dear," Arabella replied, prompting Harry's attention away from the small tongue of fire that was eagerly eating its way about the bottom edge of the paper. "And magic just seems to take something out of it for me."
A small shriek directed Harry's attention back to the table. Sirius had just leapt from his chair and was slapping his palm over the charred bottom corner of the Daily Prophet against the tabletop.
"Now," Arabella continued, taking no apparent notice of the commotion on the other side of the kitchen, "what would you like, Dear?"
"Eggs and toast is fine," Harry said cautiously.
Sirius had reseated himself by the time Harry took his seat at the table.
"Oh," said Sirius, looking up as Arabella placed a glass of juice in front of Harry. "This came for you this morning." He handed Harry a large envelope. "Likely your school list for this year. A bit early. But I guess they wanted to make sure you got it."
Harry opened the letter. Sure enough, it contained a list of his books and the supplies he would need for the coming school year.
"Seems to get longer every year." Harry commented, looking over the list.
"That's because your getting into much more advanced magic, Harry," Arabella commented as she placed a plate of eggs on the table in front of him. "Potions especially will be getting a great deal more complicated. Why, by my fifth year, I wasn't mixing up a single one that had less than twelve ingredients. And that was for the most basic ones."
Harry felt his appetite wane at the mention of his least favorite class. "So how am I suppose to get to Diagon Alley this time?" He asked to distract himself from the thought.
"We'll be taking you next week." Arabella replied.
"We?"
"Sirius and I. Or more likely, I'll be coming along with Snuffles. I need to do some shopping and we can get your school supplies at the same time. Save the rush later."
Harry cast a concerned look at the paper Sirius still sat behind. "But....isn't that kind of dangerous for Sirius? What if a ministry member is there....or Dementors?"
"It's unlikely any of them would look twice at a woman on an outing with her son and their pet dog, Harry. Hardly noteworthy stuff there."
Harry paused slightly at the description, thinking it over in his mind. He'd never been put in that context before. Of course, he was used to being referred to as 'James and Lily's son'. But those references were always made in either hushed whispers or in a tone that bordered on reverence from the speaker. Arabella had made it sound so...normal. A woman and her son. Harry felt a strange feeling settle on him as he visualized the scene in his mind. And it was one that he liked a great deal.
A pair of fingers snapping in his face brought him back to the present.
"Harry?" Arabella said, staring at him with concern. "Are you all right?"
Harry stared at her with a blank sort of expression. "What? Oh, sorry. Just thinking."
Arabella favored him with one of her kind, knowing smiles. To Harry it seemed as if at times Arabella knew exactly what was going on in his mind.
"So," she said. "It's all settled then. We'll head out for London next Thursday at nine to get your school supplies."
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The first part of the week past fairly uneventfully. Harry divided his time between practicing his flying in the large, tree enclosed field he and Sirius had found outside of town and trying to finish up his school work before the start of the school year. All in all things couldn't have pasted for more normal in the small, cozy household.
Harry simply bask in the feeling. He was sure this was as close as he was likely to ever get to having a family of his own. And the idea suited him just fine.
The early evening, right after dinner, rapidly took it's place as Harry's favorite time of the day. It usually centered around the three of them settling into Arabella's comfortable livingroom in front of the television. Sirius most often sat in one corner of the couch, with his arms wrapped lightly about Arabella, who sat cozied up against him. For Harry's part he usually started the evening sitting next to Arabella, which as the evening wore on, more often ended with him laying with his head in her lap, where he was peacefully lulled to sleep as she stroked his hair. Life, in Harry's opinion, was perfect.
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For the first time since he had started at Hogwart's, Harry was not completely enthusiastic about the ritualistic trip to Diagon Alley. Sirius looked the least thrilled of the trio the morning they set off for the Leaky Caldron as, in his dog form, Arabella fastened a large collar to his neck. In sympathy she let it hang a bit lose.
Sirius transformed once more back into a man before they left. He fingered the collar carefully as Arabella slipped on her coat.
"You know," he said disdainfully, "if I were younger this might almost be considered fun."
"Just be a good dog, Sirius." Arabella commented. "Don't get into any trouble in Diagon Alley."
Sirius sighed quietly to himself and reverted to his dog form. Arabella had consented to not using a leash if Sirius agreed to stay close to them and not go wandering off by himself.
Once in Diagon Alley, the first order of business was to visit Gringotts.
The first stop on the rollercoaster ride through the maze of tunnels was Harry's vault, where he took out a small sack full of money to buy his supplies. The next stop was a good five or six minutes more through the maze of tunnels. When the cart stopped, Arabella got out with Snuffles, who waited patiently while Arabella opened the door. When the door opened, Harry craned his neck around the frame to see inside. He nearly fell out of the cart. If Harry's own vault was stacked with the money left to him by his parents, this one was down-right stuffed with galleons, sickles, and knuts. Arabella seemed to take no notice of the vast treasure as she calmly loaded a few handfuls of coins onto a small bag and, closing the door after Snuffles, returned to the cart.
Once the cart started to move again, Harry leaned over to his godmother.
"I never dreamed you had that kind of money, Arabella." Harry whispered in a tone that bordered on awe.
Arabella turned to him. "What, Dear?"
"That vault. I never knew you had that kind of money."
Arabella laughed slightly. "Oh, no." She replied. "That vault isn't mine, Harry."
"Not yours?" Harry asked, thinking things over. "But then whose..." But Harry stopped suddenly as he turned to the large, black dog next to him. "Noooo. You're kidding?"
Snuffles thumped his tail happily.
Once they reached the street again, Arabella gave Snuffles collar a yank as she leaned down next to him. "Now you remember what I said." She warned him. "No running off. Remember why we're here."
Snuffles barked loudly at her, then fell into step beside Harry as Arabella led them off down the street.
The morning was spent as a pleasant combination of sightseeing and shopping. Arabella wisely had them put off any actual purchases until the afternoon so they didn't have to carry heavy packages about with them all day. Although she had made the suggestion that Snuffles could double as a pack-animal, which earned her a threatening growl.
As the afternoon wore on they stopped for lunch before finishing up the day with buying a few things Arabella had seen while they window shopped and buying Harry's school supplies. Even Sirius had managed to corner Arabella into promising to make a few clothing purchases for him by standing in front of displays and barking until he got her attention. However, a loud and very strange argument had erupted over a particular leather jacket Sirius had apparently taken a great liking to, but which Arabella refused to even consider.
"I'm not buying that!" She stated to a barking Snuffles. "You'll look like an over grown teenager in it."
Apparently Snuffles had decided that, following in the trend of small children, the louder he got the more likely Arabella was to give in and buy him the jacket. In the end, the whole scene ended rather badly with Arabella and Snuffles being escorted out of the shop and Arabella being told to better control her dog.
Harry had wisely decided to wait outside, and now stood with a very disgruntled looking Snuffles in the shade of a shop while Arabella went across the street to look at some cooking spices she had seen that morning. She had blatantly told Snuffles he wasn't allowed to follow her into any more shops and he would have to stay outside from then on. Harry had amicably agreed to keep his godfather company while Arabella shopped.
"Look at the bright side," Harry commented as they watched for Arabella to come out of the shop. "Maybe someone'll get it for you for Christmas."
The black dog gave Harry a friendly shove with his nose and glanced up at him.
"No! Not me." Harry stated, gesturing toward the shop. "I meant Arabella." He added, grinning down at Snuffles. "I honestly think she really likes you, Snuffles."
The dog stared up at Harry, then turned back to the shop with a thoughtful gaze.
After a few more minutes, Harry took to scanning the crowds of people to see if he recognized anyone. Since it was still a good while before the start of the school year, there weren't a lot of Hogwarts students about. At least none that Harry recognized.. But suddenly, over the heads of a group of chattering girls, Harry thought he saw a bright red head of hair going around a nearby corner. Harry glanced quickly down at Snuffles, who still looked deep in thought as he stared fixedly at the shop across the street. The alleyway wasn't but a few feet down the street. He could check out if the person was Ron and be back before Snuffles even knew he was gone.
With one more quick look at Snuffles, Harry silently eased to the side and then hurried off down the street. As he turned the corner, he saw the red haired boy disappear into a shop near the end of the alleyway.
'What's he doing down there?' Harry wondered as he hurried down the narrow alleyway. But he didn't give it too much thought, as eager as he was to see Ron after so long and do some quick catching up before Arabella and Snuffles caught up with him.
At the end of the alleyway was a small shop which struck Harry as sort of an odds and ends shop. Pushing the door open he quickly looked about and wandered a few feet at a time deeper into the shop. The shelves were stacked with various statues, ornaments, books, and a variety thing Harry didn't even recognize.
An elderly man with white hair came bustling out of the back.
"Yes, yes," he chattered happily. "Coming. Coming." He stopped in front of Harry. "Something I can help you find today?" The white haired, old wizard asked.
"I'm looking for a red haired boy who came into your shop." Harry replied. "About my age. Came in just ahead of me."
"Oh." The old man looked disappointed. "Yes, yes. He left out the back."
"Out the back?"
"Yes, yes,. It connects back to the main street, you see."
"Oh." Harry replied, heading for the back of the shop. "All right then. Thank you."
Harry ran for the back door, determined to catch up with Ron. He pushed open the door and headed down the stairs in the back of the building when he stopped abruptly half way down them.
Standing in the alleyway before him were no less than ten Deatheaters. Standing in front of them, swinging a red wig off his fingers, was none other than Peter Pettigrew.
"Oh, honestly," Pettigrew stated in disgust, "that was just too easy."