Chapter 3: Ars Notoria

The atmosphere inside number four, Privet Drive had reached new levels of uneasiness by noon. Uncle Vernon pretended to calmly read the paper (which he held upside-down) and jumped at every noise, while Dudley had huddled himself in a corner of the kitchen and was stuffing himself madly with what Aunt Petunia had termed "comfort food", and for once he didn't look like he was enjoying himself very much. Aunt Petunia had also drawn all the curtains to prevent the neighbours from looking in on any abnormality that might occur, which only served to irritate the Dursleys even more now that the house was also hot and stuffy. It didn't help that Harry didn't know how Mr. Weasley would be travelling this time, even though Harry had assured them they wouldn't be arriving by Floo Powder and that the twins would most probably not be allowed to tag along. At ten minutes to three, Harry dragged his heavy trunk down the stairs, not wanting to test the Dursleys' patience too much.

He spent the next ten minutes sitting on his trunk (he wasn't allowed to sit on the couch) watching Uncle Vernon's moustache twitch nervously in time with the second hand on the huge grandfather clock in the living room.

Four…three…two…one…

A muffled howl of terror was heard coming from the kitchen.

"Dudleydums!" Aunt Petunia cried out, standing up to rescue her precious son from whatever evil freak that had come for Harry, but before she could enter the kitchen, Dudley nearly flattened his scrawny mother by rushing out suddenly, squealing and gibbering piteously.

"You!" Uncle Vernon barked, shoving Harry in front of him. "See what's in there."

Harry sighed and nodded apprehensively, making his way slowly towards the kitchen, which was unnervingly quiet. Surely Mr. Weasley or any other adult wizard would have made his entrance by now. He felt his left pocket for his wand and cautiously peeked into the kitchen.

It was completely empty. The only thing out of place in the absurdly neat kitchen was Dudley's stack of snacks in the corner that he had trampled on in his hurry to get out, and now all scattered over the newly-cleaned floor.

"Well?" Uncle Vernon hissed from behind him.

"Doesn't seem to be—"

Then something collided into him and hugged him so tightly he was sure he was going to die from suffocation.

"Ouf…what the…I can't breathe…"

Harry found himself looking down at the familiar the pencil-shaped nose, large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls.

"Dobby?" Harry choked out in amazement as the elf finally let go of him.

The house-elf was wearing a white baby bonnet for a hat, on which he had fastened a number of shiny badges that seemed to have been polished with care. He was wearing odd socks as usual, one of which Harry recognised as the horrid-looking mustard yellow ones Harry had received from the Dursleys long ago that had once belonged to Uncle Vernon.  The other was a brilliant flashing neon green with bright pink polka-dots that turned purple when Dobby moved. There was also a black bow tie fastened loosely around his small neck, perhaps in attempt to look more presentable.

"Dobby has come to take Harry Potter to Diagon Alley!" the little elf informed him cheerfully. "Professor Dumbledore is afraid bad Dark Wizards will try to harm Harry Potter, so Dobby is here to make sure Harry Potter is safe."

Harry frowned a little, remembering Dobby's attempts to "keep Harry Potter safe" in his second year. But before he could say anything, he was dragged forcibly backwards by the collar into the living room by Uncle Vernon.

"What is that...that thing?!" Uncle Vernon yelled, his eyes bulging out of his head in fear and anger. "AND WHY IS IT WEARING MY SOCKS?"

Harry winced at the volume.

"Harry Potter gave them to Dobby, sir!" the house-elf answered with seemingly infallible enthusiasm as it hopped down from the kitchen table, totally paying no attention to the way Uncle Vernon had backed away hurriedly with a look of abject horror fixed on his face.

"Uh Dobby, maybe we should just…go now." Harry suggested as he watched the Dursleys cower into the furthest corner, their eyes wide with fright at the sight of the tiny ridiculously-dressed creature jumping about in front of them.

Dobby nodded and took hold of Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage, now empty since she had already flown to the Burrow in the morning.

"How are we getting there?" Harry asked curiously.

"Dobby will magic Harry Potter there."

"But the Improper Use Of Magic Office…"

"Professor Dumbledore has informed the Ministry wizards." Dobby reassured him.

"Harry Potter may want to close his eyes." Dobby said, offering Harry his free hand.

There was a familiar loud crack, and Harry had the strange sensation of having his body split up into tiny particles and being picked up by a whirlwind of magic. The air around him crackled with a strangely familiar electrical feeling he couldn't put his finger on, yet it wasn't as disorientating as travelling by Floo Powder or Portkey. He couldn't have opened his eyes even if he had wanted to—he wasn't even sure he had eyes at all. For a moment he panicked, then he felt a weird tickling sensation like he was reforming into a solid body and the tight grip of Dobby's bony long-fingered hand in his…then his feet hit firm ground and he heard a soft thud that must have been his trunk.

Harry opened his eyes tentatively and found himself in the gloomy but comforting darkness of The Leaky Cauldron.

"Harry Potter is back in Diagon Alley!" Dobby proclaimed happily.

*~*~~*~**~*~*~~*

It took some time finding Hermione and Ron in the crowd, but soon the Gryffindor trio were happily shopping for school supplies in the familiar long cobbled street lined with hundreds of wizarding shops and admiring the newest broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies, the Meteorite 250, a sleek-handled broom reputed to be a hot favourite among the European National Quidditch teams. Despite his joy at being able to hang out with his friends again, Harry was suddenly very grateful that Professor McGonagall had done his shopping for him the previous year. If some of the people on the street were looking at him strangely now, Harry didn't want to know what they might have done to him last year, immediately after Cedric's death and the Rita Skeeter articles. More than once he heard someone whisper "parselmouth" as he passed, and though having less people coming up to him wanting to shake his hand or ogle at his scar was a great improvement, he didn't like the way they were pointing at him behind his back and crossing the street to avoid him either.

"Oh come on 'Mione, we've got almost two hours before we meet mom back at the Leaky Cauldron!"

"But it's not safe!" Hermione protested. "The three of us are hardly a match for anyone or anything that might come for Harry."

"Like any of those Death Eaters would be caught dead in muggle London." Ron snorted. "Anyway they're probably all still licking their wounds after that battle."

"I really need new glasses." Harry agreed. "And you said you've never heard of a spell that could change the degree of my lenses."

"I might be able to find it in the library. Or we could get Professor McGonagall to do it for you when we get back to Hogwarts..."

"'Mione...just this once?" Ron pleaded, eager to have a look at the weird and wonderful world of muggles.

"Oh alright…but only for as long as needed." Hermione relented.

After Harry had changed for some muggle money at Gringotts, Hermione and Ron changed out of their robes and slipped out of The Leaky Cauldron into muggle London.

It was all as Harry remembered when Hagrid had first brought him to Diagon Alley so many years ago…when he had only been eleven and Voldemort had been thought gone for good, and being seen in the company of Harry Potter hadn't been life-threatening. Here the books didn't bite if they weren't stroked properly and there were bicycles instead of broomsticks displayed in the shop windows. Just ordinary streets full of ordinary people, where no one would double back to take a second look at the scrawny dark haired teen with thick spectacles and green eyes.

"My dad usually gets his glasses done here," Hermione told them, pointing to a big brightly-lit shop just around the corner.

He was shown a wide array of spectacle frames by a very talkative young man while Hermione popped into the bookshop next door and Ron went off to explore the air-conditioning system.

"Play sports?"

"Yeah." Harry mumbled.

"Football? You're certainly too short for basketball."

"Something like that." 

"Then maybe you should try contact lenses. It's more convenient, plus you'll have all the girls sitting up and taking notice of you." The man promised, winking at him. Which was really the last thing Harry needed, even if it was from Cho. Harry ended up choosing the pair that looked most like his old pair.

"We've got more than half an hour to kill before my new glasses will be ready."

"So what do we do now?" Ron asked as he put his arm around Hermione.

"Let's go to the British Museum." Hermione suggested eagerly.

"And just why are we going to some musty museum? I want to see other muggle stuff, like this weird air cooling thing." Ron said.

"The British Museum is having an exhibition of what is supposed to be the original copy of the Ars Notoria." Hermione said, excitedly pointing at a banner across the road.

"The what?" Harry asked.

"It's the first book of magic ever written." Hermione explained impatiently. "Professor Binns mentioned it in class two years ago!"

"You actually remember what he said? I wasn't even listening!" Ron snorted.

"What would a book on magic be doing in a muggle museum?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't really have any real magic," Hermione explained.

"Then why do we have to see this thing?"

"It's an important source of information to show muggle attitude towards magic!"

"You dropped History of Magic in favour of Herbology last year," Harry reminded her.

In the previous term they had been asked to choose at least four subjects they wanted to study at an Advanced Level for their N.E.W.T.s. Naturally, Potions and Divination had been dropped quickly without further consideration for both boys, but Hermione, on the other hand, had spent hours agonising and fussing about having to drop anything, since they were only allowed a maximum of seven subjects.

"Oh come on, it's only a few streets away!" Hermione said, looking at Ron pleadingly.

"Says the girl who didn't want us to even step out here." Harry teased.

"But this is educational!"

"Oh okay." Ron gave in reluctantly. "And stop grinning like that!" He playfully shoved Harry, which only made his friend's grin widen even further.

They would have gotten to the museum sooner, but although Ron often expressed embarrassment at Mr. Weasley's fascination with muggle contraptions, they had practically had to drag him away from the electronic stores along Tottenham Court Road.

The museum grounds were large and spacious, though of course it wasn't nearly as spectacular as Hogwarts. They wandered into the large exhibition hall, kept cool and dry to minimise damage on the artefacts. In the middle was an old tattered looking book in glass case, and there were various amulets, goblets and books displayed along the walls as well.

"Not much to look at, is it?" Ron said dryly, looking at the yellowed and fragile looking parchment of the Ars Notoria.

"Let's go over there," Harry suggested, leaving Hermione to read the historical notes.

The two boys browsed idly among the display cases, not really paying attention to what was inside since they all sort of looked the same to them—tarnished metal pieces with some squiggly lines etched in, occasionally set with a gem or a piece of bone or some beast's tooth.

This is kind of nice after all, Harry thought, just enjoying the quiet of the room and the late evening sunlight streaming in through the high windows, his best friend beside him in companionable silence. Suddenly, Harry felt an odd tingling sensation. Puzzled and slightly worried, he slowed down his pace. His scar still felt okay at the moment, but…The feeling intensified slowly, until he finally stopped in front of one of the cases holding a goblet-like thing. It seemed to be made of gold, slightly tarnished and with an oddly-shaped depression on one side of the cup that looked as if someone had thrown a rock at it and dented it. There were also carvings round the sides which Harry recognised as Runes.

"'The Chalice of Morgan Le Fay.'" Harry squinted and leant closer to read the card.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as she came up to them.

"There's something about this chalice," Harry muttered.

But before she could ask him anything else, Ron turned towards the two of them and signalled urgently.

"That man over there! That's Arnold Peasegood—he got transferred to the Magical Artefacts Office recently."

"He's an Oblivator, isn't he?" Hermione asked, remembering Mr. Weasley's introduction from the Quidditch World Cup.

"What's he doing here?"

The Oblivator looked up at the sound of the Gryffindors' not-so-subtle whispers in the hushed exhibition hall. There was a flicker of recognisation on his face as he made his way towards them.

"You'd be Arthur Weasley's youngest son, eh?" he said as he glanced at the red hair and freckles.

Then he performed the double take Harry was heartily sick of seeing people do.

"And Harry Potter!"

"Hello Mr. Peasegood." Harry said as he attempted to smile politely.

"Yes, hello…" the Oblivator said distractedly. "Are you kids supposed to be here on your own?"

"Uh…well, we wanted to have a look at the Ars Notoria." Hermione explained. "For History of Magic."

"I see…well, best be getting yourselves back to Diagon Alley now." He told them with a pointed look.

"Goodbye Mr. Peasegood." Hermione agreed politely, pushing the two boys in front of her out of the entrance, only letting go of them when they were out of the museum.

"Now what was that all about?" Ron asked in puzzlement.

[A/N: There! I've finally finished this chapter. =) It took so long because I was being anal-retentive. *LOL*

The Ars Notoria is also known as the Notory Art of Solomon, said to be knowledge passed down from God himself. It covers stuff such as "divine revelation" and "the art of memory", and is really more about Science than magic.

Since it's not mentioned in canon, I'm assuming that The Leaky Cauldron should be somewhere near King's Cross Station, so I chose to put it somewhere in the vicinity of Oxford Street (looked like an interesting street to me). Anyway they needed a car to get from The Leaky Cauldron to King's Cross, so it's probably not too near. I don't live in London and I've never been to London, so all this stuff about the streets is from maps and photographs. If there are any mistakes or better suggestions, please tell me.]