Harry Potter and the Malevolent Affections
Chapter Six - Strange Cafe
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, the characters and places featured in the books are the creations of JK Rowling. This is a non-profit work of fiction.
Hermione stood on the platform; her feet just behind the white line that ran along the edge. It was early and a subtle chill was in the air despite the sunshine. Below her the rails hummed quietly. The only other people waiting for her train seemed to be impassive men and women in business suites, most of their faces were hidden behind newspapers or cups of corporate coffee. She felt inappropriate - her mother had insisted that she ware something pretty and as a result she was painfully visible against the grey station in a long black skirt and red top. The humming of the rails increased and the train rolled into the station, with a hiss the doors slid open and everyone pilled on, ignoring everyone else.
In a daze Harry watched the Dursley's prepare for their holiday. Every now and then they'd send him to fetch or carry something, which he did without question. Dudley barged past him but he didn't really notice, he just allowed himself to be pushed sharply to the left and stayed there. He had the strangest of feelings, it was like something was missing or that he'd forgotten something - but whatever it was felt so important that he couldn't possibly have left it elsewhere. It was almost as though he'd woken up without breathing but had carried on living. Outside of his thoughts he heard the sound of metal clinking upon metal. He looked up; his uncle was double checking the last of the anti-Harry locks before leaving. Confident in the fastenings strength Vernon turned to face him.
"Right, we're off - try not to have any fun. The rules are stuck where you can see them." Harry looked around, on the back of every locked door was a sheet of paper detailing an extensive list of 'do's and don'ts' - mostly don'ts. Dreamily he walked to the nearest window and watched as the Dursley's departed on their journey, caravan in tow. Something significant was happening he realised, something he'd been looking forward to. He supposed he should be happy but he couldn't shake the bleak feelings drifting around in his mind.
The rhythmic sound of the wheels on the track annoyed Hermione as she sipped from her polystyrene cup. The outside world bled past the window in a blur as the train sped onwards. But in her opinion it wasn't speeding fast enough. She was beginning to wonder why, exactly, she was heading to London to find out about a danger that may or may not exist. She was feeling anxious, anxious to get everything over and done with so that she could go back to her normal summer.
She knocked her boots together; they were stout sensible boots in a shade of dull green. They really didn't suit the skirt but it didn't matter. They suited her perfectly, no matter what her family may think. They were comfortable, practical and reliable - there were also metal caps inside the toes in case anyone should care to disagree. This was how she lived her life, through small acts of rebellion - nothing important - certainly nothing worth writing about, just tiny little things that kept her sane through all the studying and good grades. Harry for instance, she didn't believe for a minute that the school celebrity would take anything other than a platonic interest in someone like her… but sometimes she could think small thoughts that said otherwise. The train carried on, the repetitiveness of its droning engines lulling her into a light sleep.
Her eyes flickered open slowly, somewhere in the cabin a phone was ringing, it took her a few moments to realise that it was hers. She pressed the answer button.
"Hello? Yeah… Honestly mum I'm fine… I know your just checking… No I'm still on the train… Well it's probably a little late or something. I'll phone you later - bye." She looked out of the window, thankful that she hadn't slept past her stop. The train rolled into Kings Cross gently. The doors hissed and she scrambled out of her seat and exited the cabin onto the crowded platform.
Harry sat on the stairs feeling lost. He was hungry but hadn't got himself anything to eat, he was confident he could open the lock and get into the kitchen but something stopped him from doing anything that constructive.
"Hello little bird." Abigail materialised a couple of stairs down from him, she leant forward bringing her face inches from his. "How are you today?" He blinked slowly, trying to put his feelings into words. "I'm…" Suddenly a dumb grin appeared across his face, he felt something shoot through his veins - it was like knocking back a shot of raw whisky. "Very well thank you." Abigail's lips thinned into a cruel smile, he kept on grinning like a fool.
"All these locks and bolts are making the place look ugly…" Harry stared at his feet, feeling gloomy again.
"Sorry…" He mumbled.
"Don't be." His head shot back up and vacant happiness returned to his eyes. "Just get rid of them for me." Slowly he nodded.
Hermione squeezed through the crowds with a dogged determination. She'd told her father that she knew exactly where she was going before he'd agreed to get her the tickets, it had been a lie. She had a rough idea of where the Leaky Cauldron was, but in a city that changed by the hour having 'rough ideas' was seldom useful. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar doorway. She darted across the road and pushed through the nondescript entrance. The Leaky Cauldron sprawled out almost exactly as she remembered it. Even the strange assortment of patrons looked familiar - as though none of them had gone home since her last visit. Trying not to stare she made her way awkwardly amongst the chairs and tables towards the alley's enchanted entrance. She wished fervently, as she half-tripped over the feet of a hooded woman, that she had some of the courage and ease that Harry seemed to posses in places like this.
At that moment Harry was kneeling awkwardly against his living room door pulling and cajoling the heavy lock that bound it shut. It seemed that his uncle had foreseen Harry's attempts at amateur lock-smithery and had brought combination locks rather than the key kind. He paused for a moment absently sucking his cut and bruised fingers.
"Having trouble?" Abigail stood watching him with swanlike dignity.
"They're screwed on tight… but I'll manage." Harry returned to his chore, digging his fingertips into the hard metal edges.
"Stop a moment and eat… you must be hungry."
"No, no I can manage. You asked me to do something so I'll do it."
"I'm telling you to eat something." Her eyes narrowed and suddenly she was far more like a vulture than a swan, her head bent low and her shoulders hunched in annoyance. He stopped straining against the metal. "I brought you some more cake Harry… and a little wine." A silver platter appeared in her hands which she set daintily by his side. "It'll help you build up some strength." With all the trust of a child towards its mother he drained the narrow wine glass of its dark red contents, as the thick concoction rolled down his throat new found power seemed to fan through his limbs. He returned to the lock and pulled it easily from the heavy door. Abigail smiled at him happily; he was going to prove very useful; especially with the aid of a few more potions and baubles.
Diagon Alley dazzled in the sun. The cobbles gleamed gently and the windows shone. It lifted Hermione's spirits no end. She walked slowly down the street peering at the different shop displays. Harry was a matter of urgency but there was no point in dashing to the first bookshop she saw, that wasn't logical. Flourish & Blotts, she supposed, would be a good place to start - it did stock all the Hogwarts approved books.
It was cool and calm amongst the shelves of texts, as she walked in she caught the faint smell of coffee, tea leaves and paper. She liked this shop but everything seemed to carry a hefty price. The first book that caught her attention 'The Practical Compendium of Common-or-Garden Hauntings' was as thick as her forearm and cost more than all she had spent all last year. She looked at it longingly and moved along the isle. The next book 'Grandma Gripe's Guide to Ghost's' wasn't as big, or as expensive as the first one but it was still far too much for her price range. She was about to flick through the gilded pages but a sign on the window caught her eye - 'He who reads buys!' Sighing she walked back into the street.
Two hours and thirty minutes later she was still looking and getting increasingly fed up. There didn't seem to be a shop in the place that would sell her what she wanted at a reasonable price. She was beginning to expect a price hike due to Voldemort's return. Many shops were advertising home protection kits that contained little more than a few spells she'd learnt in her second year. A chill breeze caught the side of her face. She looked up and found herself staring into the grim confines of Knockturn Alley. The winding street seemed to be empty apart from a few moth-eaten sandwich boards, advertising sinister and complicated dealings. Hermione had heard that you could get a lot of things in Knockturn Alley, almost anything you wanted. But she'd also heard that it was one of the most evil places in Wizarding Britain. Taking a shaky breath she stepped forwards, half expecting to be struck by lightening. Behind her she could hear the bustle of Diagon, only a few meters away - surly it wouldn't hurt just to take a quick look? After all, she wasn't about to fall for some Faustian deal. Cautiously she went a little further.
The more she walked the more she wanted to turn back but she fought her instincts and carried on. The windows facing the dirty street tiles didn't shine invitingly, she had to squint to see behind the grime and more often than not she wished she hadn't. Shrunken heads, twisted plants and all manner of odd paper parcels were skulking in the displays. She rounded a corner nervously and came face to face with a small café, it was an awkward and slopping place decked out in black and dark red panelling. At first she thought it was odd that such a place existed surrounded by the rest of the alley, but the more she looked the more she felt that this building could match the rest of the place's evils put together. Finally her courage left her and she turned to leave.
"Now, wait just a minute there missy." A strong hand grabbed her shoulder tightly. She spun to face its owner. A tall wizard looked down at her, his long white hair slicked backwards against his head and trailing down his shoulders. He wore a black suit with a large golden pocket watch in one pocket attached to jingling chain. Thin framed glasses were balanced on his face magnifying his sparkling, kindly eyes.
"Professor Dumble…" He held a long finger to his lips silencing her.
"Now, I'm not sure about any professor but I am sure that you shouldn't be running around a place like this, surly I am." The strange man spoke with an accent she'd only heard on the old cowboy films her father sometimes watched.
"Sorry, but I was looking for something - it's important." Dumbledore, she was almost certain it was him, looked at her quizzically.
"Well if it'll get you out of this Alley faster then I guess I'm obliged to help you." They took seats at one of the ornate but rusting green tables outside the strange café. After a few moments a goblin in a dirty apron brought them cups of a strong black drink - she guessed it was coffee but didn't drink it. "So, what's your trouble?" Pseudo-Dumbledore drained his cracked white mug after speaking. She thought for a moment, whatever she said would need to be phrased carefully.
"I have a friend, who has a bit of a problem with a ghost. He's quite well known amongst the right people."
"So you thought you'd have a root through London and see if you could dig up something on his problem?" She nodded. "Well you've come to the right place ma'am I happen to be a bit of an expert on ghosts and the like. Why only last week I dealt with a fellow who'd been mesmerized by some kind of poltergeist - seem to be a lot more about lately."
"So you'd be able to give me some advice?" He smiled in a gentlemanly way and pulled a white glove from his pocket.
"I worry about you young folks, always rushing to find adventure of some sort." He pressed the glove into her hands. "I picked up this little trinket a while back now, never got any use out of it but the guy who gave it me swore by it - of course he was as crazy as they come. Maybe it'll help keep you a little safer against all your ghosties and demons." He was patronising her she realised, suddenly she felt a good deal less safe.
"So… I suppose you saved the person who had the poltergeist?" She began to edge off her seat.
"Hell no! I have no patience for people who get so tangled in the unnatural that they can't see there feet. He pulled a wand on me the moment I tried to deal with his little friend so I blew his head clean off." The man rolled his own head back and laughed, exposing rows of rotten, uneven black teeth. Whoever he was he certainly wasn't the headmaster. Knocking the chair over behind her she ran for the safety of Diagon and its clean cobble stones, the fake cowboy laughter still ringing in her ears.