Ch 36:- Shopping

Grimmauld Place was about as welcoming as a penitent's cell in a monastery. It wasn't cold, or even dusty, the lights were burning and a fire was flickering in the study fireplace, but to Harry it had an air of suffocating closeness that the cheerfulness of Moody and Lupin couldn't disperse.

They tried, but the knowledge that he had to stay within these walls, except when someone accompanied him, smothered their attempts at jollity.

Eventually they gave up.

'Right, Harry.' grunted Moody. 'I'll be off. Remus is on duty till tomorrow night, then I'll be back. – Alright Remus?'

'No problem, Madeye, but don't be late. I've got my potion but I still want to be a long way from here by full moon!'

Moody nodded curtly. 'Understood. I'll be here.'

He looked closely at Harry.

'Sorry Harry, relaxing security is one thing, abandoning it completely is quite another and we certainly can't do that.'

Harry looked glumly at them both.

'Some holiday this is going to be! Pity I couldn't have stayed at Hogwarts.'

Moody nodded slowly.

'Yeah. I remember holidays like this myself. I wished I could have been at Hogwarts too.'

Harry was too amazed at Moody's admission to say anything before the Professor clumped to the door and let himself out. Harry caught a glimpse of another member of the order, possibly Dedalus Diggle standing outside and heard a snatch of conversation about sentry duty before the door closed.

So, he was being watched from outside the house as well.

- o -

After a meal expertly prepared by Dobby, Harry and Lupin retired to the study. Lupin had a sheaf of papers which he arranged on the table and began to read through. Harry browsed across the library shelves, taking down and returning a book here, studying a title there. He found the extra books he'd taken to School at the beginning of term and put them back on the shelves, except for the tomes referring to Legilimens and to Dementors. He felt those might reward study.

As his eyes roamed the bookshelves Harry noticed one book slightly proud of the others in the row, on one of the higher shelves. He reached up to push it fully home then stopped, as a flood of memories he had been trying desperately to forget tumbled from his brain. That was the book he had been helping Dora to put back on the shelf.

He looked round the room; the settee, the table, the armchair, all held a memory. He could almost see them.

Harry excused himself to Lupin on the grounds of tiredness and went up to his bedroom. Dobby had warmed the room for his arrival, but there was still a chill in the air - or was it in Harry's heart?

There were memories of the past in that room too.

- o -

Harry spent the next three days mainly reading. Curled up by the fire with a book, just as he remembered wishing he could when he apparated back from the Ministry only a month or so ago.

By the end of the second day it had lost its charm.

By the end of the third day Harry was beginning to consider ways to get out of Grimmauld place for at least a while.

Lupin hadn't returned, as expected. Full moon had arrived and Harry spent part of the next night freezing himself to the bone, standing on the roof and looking at the stars and moon through the omnioculars he'd had since the quidditch world cup over two years before.

He didn't remember packing the omnioculars before he left Privet Drive last summer, but they'd been squashed up in a pair of old jeans he'd left at Grimmauld Place since he didn't have to take all his things to Hogwarts anymore. He'd been quite amazed as they fell out whilst he was rummaging in the drawer.

By the fourth day Harry was suddenly desperate. That morning, he'd found something wrapped up in his clothes from Hogwarts. - Ginny's Christmas present.

Harry was more furious than amazed at finding something else wrapped in his clothing. He could have sworn he'd put Ginny's present in the bag he'd given to Ron with the presents for the Weasley family (and Tonks) in. The present was only small, but he'd spent ages choosing it from the Christmas catalogue Hermione had lent him and several anxious days waiting for it to be delivered by mail order owl along with several other presents. Ron wouldn't notice there was one missing or would notice and wonder a bit, but Ginny would just think Harry was angry with her and hadn't bothered to buy her a present.

Harry supposed he could give it to Hedwig to take but there was no guarantee that Ginny wouldn't be around when his owl arrived at the Burrow, which would spoil the surprise; and who should he tell Hedwig to find anyway? Ron would be best, but he might be over with Hermione or even over at the joke shop with Fred and George.

Fred and George, fixers extraordinaire.

Of course.

- o -

Alastor Moody hadn't been having a tremendous time either. With Lupin missing, he was stuck in Grimmauld Place, trying to work on the curriculum and timetable for the next two terms. Normally he treated Harry as a bit of a nuisance to be borne stoically, but when Harry had hurried downstairs clutching Ginny's present and almost pleading to be allowed to visit Diagon Alley, he'd surprisingly agreed immediately

'Alright.' he growled. 'For a short while only, and just to that den of insanity those two reprobates call a shop!'

Harry wondered for a few seconds about Moody's rapid acquiescence, but a phrase about gift horses came back to him and he put his questions to the back of his mind. The thought that Moody was probably as keen to get out as he was helped to dull Harry's inquisitiveness even more.

- o -

That afternoon, Moody had several hurried conversations with a succession of Order members who turned up at the door, then told Harry to be ready to leave in five minutes.

Outside the house, under a grey sky, Moody muttered about using the underground then stumped off. He kept up a cracking pace for some one with a wooden leg, a pace so rapid that Harry suspected the leg had to be crawling with magical power.

Harry was reduced to almost running to keep up. He'd started out cold, in the brisk northwest wind that swirled through the streets, but by the time they'd reached the underground station, he was sweating freely.

Various members of the order were noticeable as they passed, standing looking in shop windows, tying laces, reading newspapers (one was reading the paper upside down), and in one enterprising case pretending to be a human statue, complete with begging cap and sign; a bizarre sight in Trafalgar Square but unearthly in Islington.

More bizarre still was the fact that they all appeared more than once during the journey.

Moody had no trouble with the underground ticket system, surprisingly having a good supply of muggle cash and an obvious familiarity with the system.

On the train, there was no problem with overcrowding. Faced with a heavily scarred man with a bizarre wandering eye, a claw footed wooden leg that occasionally flexed its claws, wild hair and even wilder clothes, they tended to find the opposite end of the carriage of tremendous interest.

- o -

The Leaky Cauldron was almost empty when they pushed open the door from the muggle street. Tom, the innkeeper wasn't in evidence, the bar being manned by a surly looking female with a hint of pointed ears in her abundant black hair; even Doris Crockford was missing from her customary seat by the bar. This was no surprise to Harry, having seen Doris at least twice during the journey from Grimmauld Place; she'd been the human statue. Moody bundled Harry through the pub and into Diagon Alley, dragged him to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes then shoved him through the door and closed it behind them.

The shop was full. The Alley itself had been fairly crowded with people muffled against the cold, but it was obvious that the joke shop was doing a roaring trade. Harry could see Fred and George up to their eyes in serving customers, whilst trying to ensure that nothing went missing - and nothing exploded before being paid for.

Fred caught Harry's eye and raised his own to the heavens. He mimed for Harry to go into the back of the shop, then returned his attention to a customer who, for some reason, wanted to purchase a dozen boxes of indoor fireworks.

Harry eased himself between the customers and the racks and shelves of everything from a joke eraser (which made everything permanent) to the latest self powered zombie golem (which stood quietly in a corner until activated by a word or phrase, then started lurching round the room trying to dismember the guests. Apparently the most frequent activation phrase was "My, isn't it getting late!" followed closely by "Don't you lot have homes to go to?")

Harry and Moody pushed through the door to the back part of the shop, expecting to have to wait for quite a while till one of the twins was able to get free to talk to them. Closing time seemed a good bet.

They didn't have to wait long to find someone to talk to though.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting in the back office with his feet on the desk, drinking tea.

It was a toss up between the three of them as to who was more surprised. Dumbledore choked on his tea and struggled to get his feet off the desk whilst trying to cough at least one lung up. Harry's mouth dropped open at the sight, and he stammered a bemused "P – P – Prof – fessor?"

Moody stopped dead and turned his magical eye on Dumbledore before breaking out into a gale of rusty sounding laughter.

'Brilliant, Weasley. Absolutely brilliant!' he chuckled eventually, leaving Harry even more confused than before.

'Where did your brothers get a sample of the headmaster's hair?'

The figure of Dumbledore finally managed to control his coughing. 'I dunno, Professor. Wish they hadn't tried their latest fancy dress spell out on me though. I've got to go home like this and mum's going to kill me!'

It looked like the Headmaster, - but it sounded like Ron Weasley.

Harry burst out laughing.

'Ron?' he managed after a while. 'I thought you'd have learned after the orangu-tango business!'

Ron sat down heavily. 'Yeah, you'd have thought so wouldn't you.' he mumbled into his beard.

Moody sat down on a packing case and stuck his wooden leg out in front of him.

'So, how long will this take to wear off then, Weasley?' he asked conversationally.

'About another three hours!' groaned Ron.

'Hmmm.' mused Moody. 'Could be inconvenient, that.'

Ron nodded. 'Yeah. Mum will go Ape.'

'Or Orangutan?' smirked Harry.

'I wasn't thinking of your mother.' muttered Moody very quietly – so quietly that Ron and Harry didn't notice. They were too busy discussing Fred and Georges' inventiveness.

'Polyjuice potion only works for an hour! How did they get it to last so long?' asked Harry, in an awed voice.

Ron shrugged. 'They used lots of little pills; some of them melt at different times, they sort of keep the dose up – '

'That is awesome! They should be working for the Ministry.'

Ron laughed. 'It wouldn't pay nearly as well.'

- o -

Talk eventually got round to how the holidays had gone so far.

'I was bored after two days!' grumbled Harry.

'I was bored after 2 hours, mate!' countered Ron. 'The Burrow's like a concentration camp. No talking, singing or ball games allowed. Curfew at seven O'clock and no music!'

'Why?' asked Harry.

'Ginny, of course. Mum's decided her punishment was too light and decided to clamp down on her till Christmas!'

'What?'

'Yeah. And since I'm there, I've got to suffer too - for not stopping her! I told you I'd get blamed!'

There was a bit of a disturbance out in the shop; George was talking to someone loudly, but the noise died down almost immediately. Ron and Harry shrugged and continued. Moody smiled slightly.

'It took Fred and George pleading for my help in the shop to get Mum to allow me to come here with Dad every day.' exclaimed Ron.

Harry grinned at the thought of Fred and George begging. 'How much did that cost you, then?'

'An arm and a leg, mate.'

Harry suddenly realised that Moody's wooden leg was right between them.

'You could have phrased that a bit better, Ron' he muttered.

'What? – er – Oh! – yeah!' he looked contrite. 'Sorry Professor!'

Moody just grunted.

Harry decided it was a good time to change the subject.

'When's Hermione coming over?'

Ron sighed. 'Not till the day after Christmas, unless she can persuade her parents to bring her over Christmas Day evening.'

'Is that likely?'

Ron sighed again. 'No. Ginny's a bit miffed about it too, she's got no one to plot with.'

'So – er – how is Ginny then?' Harry asked diffidently. 'How's she been dealing with your mum's regime?'

'She's been seething actually. But she's managed to keep it in so far.'

Harry sighed. 'It was a good hex, Ron. I'm glad I saw it. It was almost worth the punishment.'

'Ginny doesn't think so!'

There was another slight disturbance outside the door, which drifted open allowing the sounds of the shop to penetrate the room.

'Er –actually, Ron, talking of Ginny,' Harry said, 'could you add this to the Christmas present pile at The Burrow?'

Ron looked at the tiny package in Harry's hand.'

'Yep, no problem mate.' he said cheerfully, making to take the package. He stopped with his hand in midair, as a deep voice said;

'That may not be necessary Mr. Weasley'

Ron and Harry looked towards the door and both their jaws dropped.

There was another Albus Dumbledore standing there.

Ron recovered first. 'Ha!' He chortled. 'Okay which of you is it? Fred? - George?'

Two voices answered from behind the second Dumbledore.

'It's not us, Ron!'

Ron stopped laughing very suddenly, his face changing from laughter to abject horror.

'Professor?' he whimpered.

The second Dumbledore was silently regarding his doppelganger with a blank expression. 'Remarkable!' he suddenly exclaimed, 'Quite remarkable!' He waved his hand and muttered something inaudible, whereupon Ron suddenly appeared before them, dressed in jeans and jersey.

'Erm, - Sorry Professor.' he muttered almost inaudibly. 'It was just one of Fred and Georges jokes.'

There was a gulping sound from behind Dumbledore as Fred and George rapidly backed out of the room. Dumbledore glanced behind him at the closing door then smiled briefly and waved his hand again.

A deadening of the sounds in the room suggested a silencing spell was now in action.

'Now then,' the Professor said to himself. 'Where was I? - Ah yes.' He turned to Harry. 'As I was saying Harry, there will be no need for Ronald to take this item to The Burrow. I had hoped to find you at Grimmauld Place to tell you; unless something untoward happens, you will be able to take it there yourself, on Christmas Eve.'

A warm glow permeated Harry's heart, immediately followed by a sudden churning of excitement through his insides. He was going! Christmas was going to be fun after all!

'That's absolutely tremendous Professor!' he enthused. 'Thank you. Did you go to Grimmauld Place?'

The Headmaster nodded. 'Dobby was kind enough to inform me of your excursion and I have not visited a shop of this nature fro many years. I am pleased to note that Fred and George have made a success of it.'

Ron was smiling widely. 'Yay, Harry! It's going to be so good to have you there!' a look of puzzlement replaced the smile. 'Why does Harry have to wait till Christmas Eve, Professor?'

A ghost of a grin flickered across the Headmaster's face.

'Are you expecting Harry to share in your sister's punishment?' he asked.

Ron hesitated. 'Oh, yeah, that.' he muttered, then he spoke up again.

I have to, why shouldn't Harry!'

The Headmaster had obviously been planning for the eventuality of Harry going to the Burrow, as he began to issue instructions to Harry and Moody as soon as Harry's burst of mock outrage at Ron's comment had subsided.

'Alastor, could you please take Harry over to The Burrow on the afternoon of Christmas Eve?'

Moody nodded agreement. 'What d'you want me to do then, Albus?'

Dumbledore stood in thought for a few seconds.

'You'd better wait at The Burrow till the rest of the family get there, then get back to the Leaky cauldron and wait to collect Harry after the New Year.' The Professor hesitated. 'I take it Christmas at the Leaky cauldron will be to your taste?'

Moody's lopsided face screwed itself into a grin.

'Yeah' he growled. 'I reckon I can handle that. All expenses paid?'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'I think the Ministry funds can stretch so far'

'Ministry?'

'Of course, however it might be unwise to state that you are on Ministry business.'

'Got it, Albus.'

The Headmaster turned to Harry once more. 'Harry, I think you can stay at the Burrow until the New Year, although I shall be reassessing the situation as information continues to reach me. Make sure you take all your protection requirements and tell Dobby where you are going and that he is to maintain the apparation area in the study totally clear. You may need a fast exit.'

Harry nodded slightly wildly.

'Good.' continued the headmaster. 'Ronald, would you please inform your parents when you return home, and please do not discuss this with anyone else whatsoever.'

'Anyone?' Ron looked more than a little puzzled.

'Anyone, Ronald. Not even your brothers and sister.'

Ron nodded unhappily. 'Okay Professor.' he mumbled. 'Er, by the way, what happens to the rest of us if we're attacked. Harry's alright, but what do we do?'

The Headmaster gave a reassuring smile. 'If Harry leaves, you should be in no further danger, Ronald.'

Ron didn't look reassured at all.

After a few more detailed instructions about timing and location, the Headmaster made ready to leave and removed the sound proofing charm.

'Have a good Christmas, all three of you,' he said 'and make sure you tell no one else, unless absolutely necessary.'

'Have a good Christmas, Professor,' said Harry in return. 'We'll be careful'

The Headmaster opened the door. 'Stay here till well after I leave, and Ronald?'

'Yes Professor?'

'Tell your mother I may be visiting during the festivities.'

Ron swallowed. 'Yes Professor.'

As soon as the door shut, Harry rounded on Moody.

'You knew the Headmaster was going to turn up, didn't you Professor!'

Moody grinned nastily.

'Yeah. He sent me a message earlier, before you started begging to come here. How else would Dobby have known where we were going, if I hadn't told him?'

- o -

Once the Headmaster had left the building, Ron began to regale Harry with the sort of games and other activities that were planned for Christmas and it was all too soon that Fred opened the door, to show an empty shop and the lights trimmed low for the night.

'What? closing time already?' muttered Moody.

'You fell asleep Professor!' said Harry.

'I wasn't sleeping Potter, I was just resting my eyes!' Moody growled, getting to his feet.

'Of course you were, Professor.' agreed Fred, chuckling. 'Good job Dumbledore got rid of that spell, Ron. I was wondering just what we were going to tell Mum.'

He was followed into the back room by his brother.

'Well, that was one of the best days ever,' said George, happily. He looked round the room 'Hey, what are you all doing still here?' He yawned. 'My, isn't it getting late! – Don't you lot have homes to go to?'

There was a sudden series of crashes from the shop.

Fred looked at George

George looked at Fred

They both screamed.

'The Golems!'

- o -

It was late when Moody and Harry finally arrived back at Grimmauld Place. A breakdown on the Northern line had stranded them in a train for 20 minutes, during which time Moody had amused himself by staring at the other passengers and grinning. Despite the possibility of fines for improper use, nearly half the passengers had made use of the emergency door to the next carriage, before a lurch and a flickering of the lights announced the resumption of what passed for normal service.

Moody whistled happily all the way back from the underground station.

- o -

During the next few days, Harry tried desperately to keep his impatience under control.

He decided just what he wanted to take.

He packed it.

He unpacked it.

He read some of the book on the care and use of Dementors, apparently written by the Governor of Askaban almost a hundred years ago. The Governor had been a man of bizarre enthusiasms, none of which Harry shared, and the book was hard going. He didn't get far at all.

He packed his stuff again.

He unpacked it.

Moody snapped. Half an hour of swearing later, he grabbed Harry and hauled him out into the streets of North London, muttering under his breath about Bloody Teenagers.

'Right, we're going for a walk, Potter. Got it?' He snarled.

Harry got it.

Once more, members of the Order were visible, but not nearly as many as before - Harry decided it was the sudden and random nature of the excursion that prompted the reduction in numbers. It also meant that Moody tended to stop in doorways and look around fairly frequently – which turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

The ninth, or maybe tenth, shop doorway turned out to be for an antiques and bric a brac shop called, rather knowingly, 'The Skip'

The name seemed all too appropriate for the mounds of clutter, old furniture, cutlery, tools, electrical equipment, toys, books, clocks and general junk cluttering every shelf and most of the floor. Harry stared morosely through the dingy glass at the one area that had been sort of arranged to show off some of the less damaged instruments - clocks, cameras and stuff, wondering if he should get Mr Weasley a more expensive present. Arthur Weasley had lost out during Harry's present buying paroxysm. Lack of a suitable tools catalogue had led to Arthur receiving socks - again.

Moody was about to grab Harry's arm once more when his charge gasped in surprise. Almost hidden beneath a pile of old toasters, and absolutely filthy, was an egg shape formed of strips of metal that wound around each other with eye watering complexity.

Harry was inside the door before Moody could say 'Constant Vigilance!'

The shop itself was just as dirty and crowded as it had appeared through the window. There was no movement, so Harry cautiously eased his way over to the back of the display he had been looking at. He had no doubt, the object looked very like the one Ginny had activated at Grimmauld place.

Harry was about to touch the intertwined strips of metal at the top of the egg, when a hacking cough from the back of the shop brought his head round like a whiplash.

'Wot d'yer want then?' wheezed a voice.

Harry snatched his hand back, turned and peered into the gloom, finally discerning a vague shape wobbling closer.

The proprietor of the shop appeared to be a grossly fat man of indeterminate age, wearing several dirty jumpers, what had once been brown corduroy trousers, and paisley slippers. His hair was long dirty white and unkempt, and one eye wandered almost as much as Moody's, though it didn't appear to be magic in any way.

Harry swallowed convulsively, partly in fear, and partly to keep his lunch down in the face of the smell that was slowly permeating his consciousness.

'I – er - wanted to look at that – e-egg shaped metal t-thing in the w-window.' he stammered.

'Yeah? Wha's a kid like you wan' with somefink' like that then?' The man grinned. He appeared to have about half his teeth left, though none of them met. They looked like moss covered tombstones.

Harry said nothing.

'Well - awright.' muttered the man, almost to himself. He squeezed past Harry and plucked the egg out from under the toasters.

Harry took it carefully, trying not to get any closer to the man than absolutely necessary. It was very like the one Ginny had found, though there were some differences in the shape and size. The way the strips evaded the eye when he looked hard at them was just the same though. He concentrated on not trying to make the thing work.

'Well?' grunted the proprietor.

'It's – er – very nice.' managed Harry.

'Nice. – Yeah. – Nice.' grunted the man.

'Where did you get it?' asked Harry.

The fat man glared belligerently at Harry. 'None o' your bizniss, kid.' he snarled. 'I duzn't ask yer where yer come from, an' yer duzn't ask me where I get's me stock! Goddit?'

'Er – yeah. Yeah – sorry!' gabbled Harry.

The man looked slightly mollified. 'Well – D'yer want it?'

'Er – yeah.' muttered Harry, 'How much?'

'Undred quid'

'What?'

'U 'eard'

Harry spluttered for a second or two. 'But I haven't got that much!'

The man narrowed his eyes. 'Ow much yer got then?'

'Well I haven't got any money on me but – '

'WOT!' The fat man erupted. 'Yer cum in 'ere and mess me abaht and yer ain't got no readies!'

Harry wilted under the onslaught of mock righteous anger and bad breath.

'My boss has money!' he gasped. 'Outside.'

'Yeah right!' snarled the man, grabbing the instrument - then he suddenly seemed to wilt as the door opened and Moody stumped into the shop with a frown on his scarred face.

The Professor approached the proprietor slowly, oozing menace.

'This individual giving you trouble Harry?' he growled, staring at the fat man with both eyes.

'Er – no, well, - yeah. Can I borrow some money, Professor?'

Moody took the instrument from the unresisting hands of the proprietor. 'For this?'

'Er – yeah.'

Moody stared even harder at the man. 'How much?'

The fat man's eyes flicked from side to side 'Undred.' he slurred.

Moody's remaining half an eyebrow rose a good half inch.

'Well – awright - fifty.'

Moody's magical eye began to look over the shop on its own.

'Firty?'

Moody said nothing.

'Bloody 'ell, twenty then! – an I ain't goin' lower!'

Moody remained silent, though his magical eye returned to regarding the man with almost palpable distaste.

The proprietor was getting desperate. 'An' 'e can 'ave that ole walkman!'

'And some discs?' asked Harry, dubiously. He'd seen Dudley with a walkman but never had a chance to own one. He knew they needed discs though.

'Yeah, and batteries too!' volunteered the sweating man.

'Harry?' queried Moody, glancing in his direction.

Harry nodded.

'Done then!' barked Moody. 'Give the boy the stuff!'

The proprietor of the shop feverishly dug batteries and discs out of a drawer and handed them and the walkman to Harry, whilst Moody cradled the metal egg. Harry shot out of the door in front of Moody, who turned on the threshold and snapped his fingers. A crisp twenty pound note appeared which was snatched by the fat man and inspected carefully.

By the time the man was satisfied, Moody was gone.

Moody and Harry walked back to Grimmauld place in companionable silence. Both were smiling. It seemed that getting one over the proprietor of the junk shop had restored Moody's spirits. 'Well spotted, Harry.' he muttered. 'Arthur should be pleased.'

Harry laughed. 'Yeah. It beats socks, anyway.' He sobered up. 'Was that counterfeit money?' he asked.

'Ha!' barked Moody. 'Why would I give the man a counterfeit note? - It's too easy to magic up real ones.'

- o -

It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve and the final reparations were complete. At last the time came to go.

Harry had packed for the last time. He'd given Dobby full instructions, twice, he'd let Hedwig out and told her to follow him to The Burrow and he'd checked all the wards and locking spells at least three times. He'd put his coat on, stuffed his wand in his pocket, grabbed his older Firebolt and was standing with Moody in the middle of the study, staring dubiously at a brass poker from beside the fireplace, that Moody swore Dumbledore had turned into a return portkey to The Burrow.

'Hold it then,' ordered Moody.

Harry obeyed – and he immediately felt it grab him by the navel as it dragged him into the next dimension.

As the Portkey carried him away from Grimmauld Place, Harry had a fleeting thought that suddenly jerked tears from his eyes – Sirius would have loved a Christmas at The Burrow.

- o -