I've made a few very small changes to most of the previous chapters. They don't affect the plot in any way – I mostly just changed some sentences that I thought were awkward, words that were used too often in close proximity, etc. I did change the name "Doctor Bigelow" to "Healer Bigelow" because I believe that the term "healer" was used prior to Order of the Phoenix. If it wasn't, oh well.
The next chapter is in the works. I would dearly love to write a song for the Sorting Hat; I might be able to pull it off even though I've never been very good at writing poetry. I probably won't be able to crank out the chapters like I used to; I just don't have that kind of time and leisure right now, but I am making steady progress. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to keep going. In the meantime, here's a good long chapter for you all. Enjoy!
Chapter Ten: In Diagon AlleyHarry, Ron, and Hermione woke up one day to find that the return to Hogwarts was nearly upon them. They were sitting in the breakfast room nibbling on hot sausages when a large, tawny owl swooped through the open window. It dropped one fat, creamy envelope each on Harry, Ron, and Hermione's laps and soared out again.
"So soon," Ron sighed.
"Finally!" Hermione exclaimed, seizing her envelope in both hands.
Harry and Ron turned to look at her. Ron's nose was crinkled as if it had detected a particularly foul odor. "Come on, Hermione," he said. "School's not that exciting, even for -"
But Hermione had already opened her letter and turned it upside down, letting a shiny gold badge fall into her lap. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I'd been hoping…" Her face shone with pride and delight.
Harry looked at the badge with raised eyebrows. "A prefect," he said. "Well, that's no surprise. Everyone figured you were a shoo-in." With everything that had happened since the third task last year, the selection of prefects had completely slipped his mind.
"Don't you want to see if either of you got one?" Hermione cried. She gestured impatiently at their envelopes.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Not really," he said, "but you certainly do." He made a show of turning his envelope over and over, shaking and sniffing it, until Hermione cried "Ron!" in exasperation. Ron laughed, picked up a knife from the table, and neatly sliced the letter open. "No badge for me," he said, drawing out the paper inside. "How about you, Harry?"
Harry took the knife, wondering if he might have actually been named prefect. He slit open the envelope, reached inside… and pulled out a letter. That was all.
"It's not me, either," said Harry, trying to hide his disappointment. I've faced down Voldemort three times, he thought, feeling more than a little bitter. Does Dumbledore think I'm not good enough to be a prefect?
"What?" said Ron, frowning. "But that just leaves Dean, Seamus, and Neville. I mean, out of the five of us, I was sure it would be you."
"Guess not," said Harry, trying to sound cheerful. From the look Ron gave him, he could tell that he hadn't fooled anyone.
"I'm sure Dumbledore has his own reasons for choosing prefects," Hermione said gently. "Not being selected isn't a reflection on anyone."
"Sure it is," said Harry dully.
"Morning," said Bellaton as he strode into the breakfast room. "Aaah, smells wonderful!" He caught sight of Harry's face and paused. "Bad sausage, Harry?"
"We received out letters from Hogwarts," Hermione said.
"I see," said Bellaton. He took a seat at the table next to Hermione and reached for the teapot. "Congratulations, Hermione. And you two, don't let it get you down. All students secretly hope for that badge to show up in their letter, but very few get it. Besides, Dumbledore chooses who he chooses for his own reasons. Pass the sugar, would you, Ron?"
"Well, who is the other Gryffindor prefect?" said Ron eagerly as he reached for the sugar bowl. Harry's ears pricked up in spite of himself.
Bellaton snorted. "I'll never tell. You'll just have to wait and find out for yourselves." He frowned at Harry. "Really, now, don't worry about it. I doubt Dumbledore had an easy time choosing between you five. You're all fine young men, from what I hear."
Harry's face flushed, his bitter feelings replaced by shame. A little voice inside his head was speaking up: But you do think you deserve it more than they do, don't you? After all, who was it that faced Voldemort three times? Think you're better than they are, Harry Potter? Harry quashed the voice. He unfolded his thick parchment, seeking something else to think about.
Hermione had begun scanning the booklist as well. "Ooooh, this sounds interesting: A History of Magical Conflict by Warren Pease. It doesn't sound like our usual history books. And here's another one – Flummoxing the Fiendish by Constance Pavison. Ron, when is your father coming to take us to Diagon Alley?" she asked eagerly.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, do you know the meaning of the word 'vacation'? We're going to have all year to get through those books!"
Hermione lifted her chin. "Honestly, Ron, if you would spend some time actually reading your texts I'm sure you'd find them quite fascinating."
"I read enough," said Ron defensively. "There's more to life than just books."
Harry was not at all in the mood to listen to his friends bicker. He recognized the frosty glint in Hermione's eye and spoke up before she could retort. "Yeah, Ron, when is your dad coming?"
It was Bellaton who answered. "Today, in an hour or two," he said. "You'll come back here afterwards to spend the last few days before term starts, and then he'll come back to take you to King's Cross. No one besides your families knows you're staying here, and we'd like to keep it that way. Please remember not to speak of it while in Diagon Alley – the walls have ears."
"What do you take us for, a couple of first-years?" Ron said. "You sound like Mad-Eye Moody."
Bellaton laughed. "I hope I'm not as paranoid as that. Still, keep it in mind. You've never even heard of me or Celeste yet."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were ready and waiting by the time Mr. Weasley appeared in the fireplace. "Morning, everyone," he said, stepping out of it. "Hullo, son! Good heavens, have you grown? Been behaving yourself?" he asked brightly.
"Daaaaad," Ron said through gritted teeth.
"All right, all right, I suppose I can leave the mothering to Molly," said Mr. Weasley. He gave Ron's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Well! Are we all ready to go?"
Both teachers entered the breakfast room, clad in traveling cloaks. "We are now," said Bellaton, exchanging a hearty handshake with Mr. Weasley.
"You're coming with us?" said Hermione, looking confused. "After all that 'we've never met before' talk?"
"We're going ahead of you," said Professor Thornby. "Diagon Alley is not a safe place for any of you anymore. Don't worry, we're not going to be hiding in corners. We'll be scouting around, buying things, but nearby in case you need us."
It's starting, thought Harry, his mood sinking again. Under surveillance wherever I go. Professor Thornby caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile. It didn't make him feel any better.
"We're heading to the Burrow to meet up with everyone else," said Mr. Weasley. "You go first, Ron."
Ron took a handful of Floo powder from the bag that Bellaton proffered and threw it into the fire. The flames roared up, green and cool, and Ron walked across the hearth. "The Burrow!" he said loudly, and vanished. Hermione followed, and then it was Harry's turn.
When the world stopped spinning, Harry found himself in the large fireplace in the kitchen at the Burrow. Fred, George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley were all there waiting; Mrs. Weasley was fussing over Ron.
"Why, Ron, I do believe you've grown! Oh, dear, your hair needs cutting." She reached for his head, and Ron ducked. "Mum, I'm fifteen," he groaned. Fred and George's snickers of "Ickle Ronniekins" were clearly audible.
"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when she saw Harry exiting the fireplace. "Oh, welcome back!" She bustled over to him and caught him up in a hug. Over her shoulder, Harry saw Ron roll his eyes. "You look a bit peaky. Have they been feeding you well? Perhaps we should have some lunch before we go."
"Careful, Mum, you squeeze him any harder and he'll pop," said Fred, grinning at Harry.
"Yeah, we'll want to keep him around, he's dead useful for lots of things. Like beating the trousers off the Slytherins at Quidditch," said George.
"Defeating legions of dark wizards," Fred added.
"Taking abuse from Snape so the rest of us don't have to…"
"Saving damsels from giant snakes…ouch!" Fred yelped as Ginny trod on his foot.
Mrs. Weasley released Harry and smiled at him, her eyes bright. "I'm glad you're looking so well," she said, her voice inaudible to anyone but Harry because Fred and George were still listing his many qualities. Harry looked around at the twins and Ginny, and then he remembered that none of them knew about the poisoning.
There was a rushing sound behind them, and Mr. Weasley stepped out of the fireplace. "Are we all ready to go?" he said. "Time is wasting away."
There was a chorus of "Yes, Dad"s from the Weasley children.
"Right, then. Molly, would you go first? I could use a minute to recover." Mr. Weasley eyed the fireplace a bit queasily.
Mrs. Weasley obliged, and the others began to follow her one by one. In moments Harry was emerging from a large fireplace in what looked like a storeroom. It was full of crates and boxes, some of which were dusty and others that looked as if they had been recently emptied. The room was dimly lit by sunlight filtering in through two windows; through them, storefronts and people were clearly visible. When everyone had arrived, they filed out the front door and Harry saw that they were standing across the street from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, right in the middle of Diagon Alley.
"Everyone meet back here in two hours!" called Mr. Weasley as Ginny spotted one of her Gryffindor friends and dashed off, waving goodbye.
Fred and George walked quickly in the other direction, but as they passed Harry each twin whispered something in his ear.
"Funding nascent joke shops…"
"Surviving deadly poison…"
Harry jerked his head around in shock, watching the twins' receding backs. Ron and Hermione looked curiously at him, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not seem to have noticed.
"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, looking a bit uncomfortable. "You'll be all right on your own?"
"Mum," said Ron, exasperated.
"You know what I'm talking about, Ronald," she said, going a bit red in the face but still keeping her voice low. "You all need to be very careful."
"They'll be fine, Molly," said Mr. Weasley reassuringly. "You three just keep your eyes open and your wits about you. There's probably nothing to worry about here but now is the time to be cautious."
Harry decided that while he did like Mrs. Weasley very much, he definitely preferred Mr. Weasley's way of treating them all. He, Ron, and Hermione indicated that they would be careful. Mrs. Weasley seemed satisfied, and they parted ways.
"What did Fred and George say to you?" asked Ron as soon as his parents were out of earshot. "You looked like you'd been goosed."
"They know I was poisoned," said Harry.
"What? How?" exclaimed Ron. "They're not supposed to know that."
Unlike Ron, Hermione didn't seem surprised. "This is Fred and George we're talking about," she said matter-of-factly. "They probably eavesdropped on your parents."
"Well, if they know, Ginny knows," said Ron sagely.
Harry shrugged. "I don't really care. I didn't see a reason to keep it from them in the first place. So where are we going first?"
Hermione made a plea for Flourish and Blotts. "It's my favorite store," she said. "And I can't wait to have a look at our new textbooks for Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic!"
Ron made a face. "How about we save the best for last?"
"You're not fooling anyone," Hermione chided. "Think of it as getting it out of the way, then."
"Oh, come on! I heard there's a new Comet out this year, nothing on your Firebolt of course, Harry, but definitely worth a look." Ron looked at Harry expectantly. Harry, however, refused to get in the middle of what he knew all too well was another budding argument between his friends, and in the end Hermione won out.
The bookshop was crowded with students, parents, and harried-looking employees carrying stacks of books balanced precariously in their arms. The three of them began making their way through the crowd toward the back of the shop. Harry bumped into a witch who had her back turned to them. "Sorry," he said as the witch turned to look at him; her eyes grew as wide as saucers and she backed up, pulling her robes with her. Other people had noticed them now; a low murmur began to follow them through the shop. Patrons turned to stare and mothers in their path drew their children protectively closer to their bodies.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally reached the back of the shop. They hurried into a row of bookshelves to screen themselves from the staring eyes of the other shoppers. Harry's stomach had sunk about as far as it could go.
"What was that about?" wondered Ron. "You'd think that catching a sight of Harry Potter in public wouldn't be quite so novel anymore."
Hermione was shaking her head. "I don't think that's it, but whatever's going on, it can't be good."
"Did you see that witch? She pulled back as if I had something catching," said Harry glumly.
Suddenly, a soft voice interrupted them. "Harry? Ron?" Neville Longbottom's round face peeked around the corner of the nearest bookshelf.
"Neville!" said Harry with unfeigned happiness.
Neville ducked around the corner. "Hi," he said. "I saw that, Harry. Wow, I never realized how many people were influenced by the Daily Prophet."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?" she asked.
"Haven't you seen today's edition?" said Neville, looking confused. "I thought you had a subscription."
"I did," said Hermione, "but I forgot to renew it this summer."
"I'd pick one up if I were you," said Neville. "There were murders in Sussex last night. I can't remember who it was, but it's the Killing Curse what did them in, and this morning the Minister of Magic issued statements about…" He gulped. "About You-Know-Who."
"About how he doesn't exist, so it couldn't have been him, I'll bet," said Ron darkly.
"Something like that. Anyway… everyone's talking."
Harry understood. "Everyone knows what happened at the end of last term."
"They just don't know whether to believe you or not," said Neville astutely.
"More like they don't know whether to believe Dumbledore," said Hermione.
"I told the truth. Why won't they listen?" said Harry angrily. "This is just the beginning. Voldemort is going to keep on killing, and the Ministry is just going to turn a blind eye!"
The others all flinched. "Shhh!" hissed Ron. "We don't need any more attention!"
"Well, I believe you, Harry," said Neville.
Harry looked at Neville, completely taken by surprise by this statement. His heart lifted a little. "Well… thanks," he said.
"Anyone who knows you would be stupid not to," said Neville. He turned to look around the corner of the bookshelf, and a flash of gold showed from within a fold of his cloak.
"Wait a minute…" Harry reached forward and pulled back the fabric. The other Gryffindor prefect badge was pinned to the underside of Neville's cloak.
Ron's mouth fell open. Hermione gasped with delight and clapped her hands. "Oh, Neville! Congratulations!"
Neville turned scarlet. "I… I didn't really want anyone else to see. No one's going to believe it's me," he stammered.
"Good for you, mate," said Ron, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Yeah, well done," said Harry. He was surprised to find that he meant every word.
Neville was clearly trying not to smile. "I never expected this," he said. "No one did. Gran was so happy, she smiled all day." He looked tenderly at the golden badge before tucking it back under his cloak. "You're the other Gryffindor prefect, aren't you?" he asked Hermione.
"Well, yes," she answered, her cheeks going pink.
"Saw that coming a mile away, did you?" said Ron.
They were interrupted by the sound of a rather severe voice calling Neville's name. "That's my gran," said Neville, going a bit pale. "I'd better go. Sorry," he said.
"Go on, we'll see you on the train," said Harry.
They gave Neville a few minutes to slip away, then stepped back out into the crowd. They found their schoolbooks as quickly as possible and waited in line to pay. Hermione picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet from a stack by the counter, and they left Flourish and Blotts followed by the eyes of half the people in the shop.
Harry drew a breath of relief as soon as they were out. It wasn't quite so bad on the street; a few witches and wizards shot curious glances his way as they passed, but most people were too absorbed in their shopping to notice him. Harry sincerely hoped that every store wouldn't be like Flourish and Blotts.
They decided to finish their shopping before diving into the paper. "What's done is done. The story's not going anywhere," said Hermione. They bought replacement supplies for Potions, went to Eyelops Owl Emporium for owl treats, and bought new quills, inkbottles, and parchment. They stopped by Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the new Comet that was on display in the window, but Harry didn't stay because before long, more students were looking at him than at the broomstick. Their last stop was Madam Malkins' Robes for All Occasions where they were fitted for new school robes; all three of them had grown considerably in the past year, especially Ron, who explained that even his mother had seen the need for him to have new clothes at last.
It was a relief to return to Florean Fortescue's. Harry, Ron, and Hermione each bought a large dish of ice cream from Mr. Fortescue himself, a wizard with a jolly face who treated them more pleasantly than anyone else had that day. Juggling their parcels with their frosty dishes, they retreated to a table in the corner of the parlor where Hermione finally brought out the Daily Prophet.
The cover bore the headline SLAYING IN SUSSEX and two photographs, one of a smiling witch and wizard and the other of Cornelius Fudge. They all leaned in over the paper, the better to look at the photographs and the article.
Frederick and Helen McDougal were found dead this morning at their home in Sussex. Healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries arrived on the scene only to say that there was nothing to be done for the victims, neither of which had a mark on them. Anthony Trimble, a close friend of the McDougals, made the gruesome discovery. Mr. Trimble was overcome by grief and was unavailable for comment.
Healer Dixon, who specializes in the treatment of wounds inflicted by spells, was at the scene and attempted to shed some light on the nature of the McDougals' attacker. "It appears that the Killing Curse was the cause of death," said Healer Dixon. "However, we are looking at all possibilities before we produce a final diagnosis. Whatever the cause, we certainly have a case of foul play."
Aurors who inspected the house found no signs of forced entry. "It is most likely that the McDougals opened the door to a visitor who proceeded to enter their home and murder them," said Alexander Purcell, a senior Auror with the Ministry of Magic.
Minister Cornelius Fudge was quick to issue a statement after the discovery of the deaths. "I know that many people are going to be quick to associate the Killing Curse with You-Know-Who, especially given the recent unsubstantiated comments of well-known but misguided persons," said Minister Fudge, in an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet. "However, I can personally assure the magical community that the events of fifteen years ago are not repeating themselves. I would not have witches and wizards living in fear when there is simply no need to do so. Our Aurors will, of course, be doing everything possible to apprehend the perpetrator of this horrible crime."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped reading and looked at each other in amazement. "Well, when it came to making comments about me, Fudge was rather nicer than I expected," said Harry.
"It is true that we can't just jump to the conclusion that You-Know-Who is behind it," said Hermione, who had lowered her voice to a whisper. "You don't have to be a Death Eater to use the Killing Curse."
"But Fudge doesn't want anyone to even think about You-Know-Who," said Ron, just as quietly.
Hermione sighed. "It's a more objective article than I've seen in the Daily Prophet for some time," she said. "But it doesn't really tell us anything other than the fact that a witch and wizard died mysteriously."
"It does do one more thing," said Harry darkly. "It gets people staring at me again."
Ron suddenly gave a little jerk, depositing a large dollop of boysenberry chip on the open paper. He was staring toward the ice cream counter with a look of revulsion on his face. Harry and Hermione looked up and immediately saw the cause: Draco Malfoy and his father were standing at the front of the shop, being helped by Mr. Fortescue, who seemed to have lost his usual ebullient expression.
They looked away quickly and turned back to the paper, as no one was in the mood for a confrontation. They heard Mr. Malfoy thank Mr. Fortescue coldly, and a moment later Mr. Weasley's cheerful voice called out from the doorway of the shop. "Ah, there you are –" He stopped in mid-sentence, staring at Lucius Malfoy with utter dislike, who looked scarcely less pleased than Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ginny were standing just inside the door, all momentarily frozen. Draco had spotted Harry and his friends and was sneering at them. The shop had gone very quiet; Mr. Fortescue began wringing his hands nervously.
Mr. Malfoy shifted his gaze to Harry, taking in the paper spread out on the table before him. Harry stared back at him, unaware that he had thrust his hand into his pocket and was gripping his wand as tightly as he could. Mr. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and looked away. He gripped his son's shoulder and began steering him out of the shop. "Come, Draco. We don't want to patronize an establishment frequented by this rabble."
Mr. Weasley said nothing, merely raising one eyebrow and stepping out of their way. Mr. Malfoy snarled silently at him, but Mr. Weasley was unreactive as they passed.
The moment the Malfoys were gone, the shop's patrons began to breathe again. Mr. Fortescue perked up instantly when Mr. Weasley walked up to the counter and ordered five large ice creams.
"Oh, I see you've heard the news," said Mr. Weasley as he came up with the rest of his family. "Terrible waste of good people."
"Did you know them, Dad?" asked George, dipping into his chocolate and peanut butter parfait.
"Not well," said Mr. Weasley. "They both worked at the Ministry. On countercurses, I believe."
All the underage witches and wizards at the table began looking at each other furtively. Harry could tell that they were all thinking what he was thinking: what countercurse were they working on? One for Avada Kedavra, perhaps? It certainly sounded like the kind of work Voldemort would want to put a stop to…
Mrs. Weasley eyed them all sharply. "Don't you go worrying about the McDougals, now," she said. "It's none of your concern."
"You would accuse us of meddling?" said Fred in an offended tone.
"I know what you're all thinking," said Mrs. Weasley dangerously. "You're my children, I know you. This is for adult witches and wizards to deal with, so you just leave it alone!"
Fred and George brightened. "Well, we'll be adults in less than a month, so –"
"You're still in school," interrupted Mrs. Weasley. Ron was shaking his head at the twins; Harry knew as well as Ron did that that tack would never have worked. "These are uncertain times," she continued, her face softening. "It's not as if no one's on the lookout, so leave it be and concentrate on your classes. I expect you both to get more N.E.W.T.s than you got O.W.L.s –"
"Who's on the lookout?" Ginny interrupted eagerly.
"That's enough," said Mr. Weasley quietly. The younger Weasleys' faces fell. "This is not the time or the place to be discussing this," he continued. "And even if we were at home, we wouldn't be discussing it there. Your mother's right, you've got to concentrate on school this year, you five most of all," he said, looking at everyone except Ginny. "O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s take a lot of preparation. Your teachers will force your noses to the grindstone if they're not there already."
Hermione's eyes sparkled eagerly, but Harry and Ron looked at each other dejectedly. The twins seemed to be mirroring their mood from across the table. Like the selection of the prefects, Harry had completely forgotten that this was O.W.L. year. Harry dug back into his melting dish of ice cream, but it didn't taste quite as sweet as it had before.