After the Defeat
Chapter three
Diagon Alley
About a week later, Harry and his children were on their way to Diagon Alley. Harry was slightly nervous, worrying that someone might recognise him, but as he looked in the mirror that morning, he felt reassured: he looked completely different than the seventeen-year-old Harry Potter had done at the time of the Defeat.
He had no scar, for one thing; it had disappeared when Voldemort had died; and his hair wasn't as untidy as it used to be. The fact that he had wanted it to look different after he'd left the wizarding world might have played a role here; that might have been the reason it didn't grow back overnight like it used to when he was a boy at the Dursleys'. So he had been able to cut it short for the first time in years. Then he'd put a permanent lightening charm on it – Hermione had been good at that sort of thing, but she wasn't there to help anymore – but he had still managed to make it an inconspicuous dirty fair colour.
So he looked rather unlike his former self; his glasses, too, were different; they were ordinary, rectangular muggle glasses. And he was wearing muggle clothing, as usual. Only his eyes were the same, and they, of course, might give him away – his mother's eyes, which had been the key in the defeat of Voldemort.
Old Tom at The Leaky Cauldron didn't recognise him, however, and Harry was relieved and disappointed at the same time. What would he have done if it had been revealed that the famous Harry Potter wasn't dead after all? In a way, he longed for that to happen. That was the one thing he hadn't told his children that day when he told them about the Magical World: who he really was. He was slightly worried that they might find out by accident, but there it was, he just couldn't face telling them: it would be too traumatic.
John and Lily were awe-struck at the sight of Diagon Alley. They went around to the different shops, getting all the things on John's list, and Harry wasn't recognised anywhere, except perhaps by the goblins at Gringott's, but they wouldn't tell. At Flourish & Blott's, he bought some books for himself: "Recent Developments in the Magical World: A History of the Time After the Defeat" by Plato Pendragon, and "Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived – And Died" by none other than Rita Skeeter, who, of course, was no longer threatened by Hermione's knowledge that she was an unregistered animagus.
As he looked around a little more, he was surprised to discover that Gilderoy Lockhart had published yet another book. Then his eyes fell upon a title that made him shiver. "The Life And Crimes of Severus Snape: The Man Who Betrayed Albus Dumbledore". On the cover, there was a photograph showing the cold, sneering face of his most hated teacher. Snape looked as if he were sulking; he left the picture frequently, only coming back now and then to have a look at what was going on in the shop. How Harry had hated Snape even before the betrayal; and then, afterwards, his loathing of the man had increased beyond anything he'd ever have thought possible. He hesitated, but then he couldn't resist buying the book. He put it into his bag, quickly, both to avoid looking at it himself, and also to make sure that John and Lily didn't see it.
When it was time to get John's wand, Harry thought that it would not be wise for him to go into the shop; Mr Ollivander was one of the persons most likely to recognise Harry and he didn't want that. So he took Lily with him to buy John a pet he could take with him to Hogwarts. He thought of Hedwig, longingly, for the first time in years; when he had faked his own death, he had told her to go to Luna Lovegood and stay there, since Luna was the only surviving friend of his who didn't have an owl: Ron had left Pigwidgeon in Neville's care shortly before he died, and Percy had discarded Hermes for being disloyal to the Ministry, so he had gone to stay with the Weasley twins. And none of the others who had been close to Harry were still alive.
Lily desperately wanted to get John a cat, but Harry was adamant: he was to have an owl, nothing else. At the mention of a cat, Harry wondered, fleetingly, what had happened to Crookshanks. He quickly pushed the thought away, however, paying for the beautiful, black eagle-owl he had chosen for John, taking no heed whatsoever of the wishes that Lily expressed so ardently.
'You can have a cat when you get your letter,' he told Lily as they left the shop, going over to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where Harry bought them three strawberry and peanut butter ice creams.
'What if I don't get a letter?' Lily said fretfully. 'What if I'm not magic?' Harry looked at her thoughtfully, thinking back, remembering what she had been like as a small child. He realised, now, that – deep down – he'd known all along that both his children were magic. They had done so many strange things that could not be explained in any other way; only he himself had acted like a true muggle, making up explanations for their behaviour.
'You are,' he said reassuringly. 'Don't worry, Lily, I know you are.'
Chapter three
Diagon Alley
About a week later, Harry and his children were on their way to Diagon Alley. Harry was slightly nervous, worrying that someone might recognise him, but as he looked in the mirror that morning, he felt reassured: he looked completely different than the seventeen-year-old Harry Potter had done at the time of the Defeat.
He had no scar, for one thing; it had disappeared when Voldemort had died; and his hair wasn't as untidy as it used to be. The fact that he had wanted it to look different after he'd left the wizarding world might have played a role here; that might have been the reason it didn't grow back overnight like it used to when he was a boy at the Dursleys'. So he had been able to cut it short for the first time in years. Then he'd put a permanent lightening charm on it – Hermione had been good at that sort of thing, but she wasn't there to help anymore – but he had still managed to make it an inconspicuous dirty fair colour.
So he looked rather unlike his former self; his glasses, too, were different; they were ordinary, rectangular muggle glasses. And he was wearing muggle clothing, as usual. Only his eyes were the same, and they, of course, might give him away – his mother's eyes, which had been the key in the defeat of Voldemort.
Old Tom at The Leaky Cauldron didn't recognise him, however, and Harry was relieved and disappointed at the same time. What would he have done if it had been revealed that the famous Harry Potter wasn't dead after all? In a way, he longed for that to happen. That was the one thing he hadn't told his children that day when he told them about the Magical World: who he really was. He was slightly worried that they might find out by accident, but there it was, he just couldn't face telling them: it would be too traumatic.
John and Lily were awe-struck at the sight of Diagon Alley. They went around to the different shops, getting all the things on John's list, and Harry wasn't recognised anywhere, except perhaps by the goblins at Gringott's, but they wouldn't tell. At Flourish & Blott's, he bought some books for himself: "Recent Developments in the Magical World: A History of the Time After the Defeat" by Plato Pendragon, and "Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived – And Died" by none other than Rita Skeeter, who, of course, was no longer threatened by Hermione's knowledge that she was an unregistered animagus.
As he looked around a little more, he was surprised to discover that Gilderoy Lockhart had published yet another book. Then his eyes fell upon a title that made him shiver. "The Life And Crimes of Severus Snape: The Man Who Betrayed Albus Dumbledore". On the cover, there was a photograph showing the cold, sneering face of his most hated teacher. Snape looked as if he were sulking; he left the picture frequently, only coming back now and then to have a look at what was going on in the shop. How Harry had hated Snape even before the betrayal; and then, afterwards, his loathing of the man had increased beyond anything he'd ever have thought possible. He hesitated, but then he couldn't resist buying the book. He put it into his bag, quickly, both to avoid looking at it himself, and also to make sure that John and Lily didn't see it.
When it was time to get John's wand, Harry thought that it would not be wise for him to go into the shop; Mr Ollivander was one of the persons most likely to recognise Harry and he didn't want that. So he took Lily with him to buy John a pet he could take with him to Hogwarts. He thought of Hedwig, longingly, for the first time in years; when he had faked his own death, he had told her to go to Luna Lovegood and stay there, since Luna was the only surviving friend of his who didn't have an owl: Ron had left Pigwidgeon in Neville's care shortly before he died, and Percy had discarded Hermes for being disloyal to the Ministry, so he had gone to stay with the Weasley twins. And none of the others who had been close to Harry were still alive.
Lily desperately wanted to get John a cat, but Harry was adamant: he was to have an owl, nothing else. At the mention of a cat, Harry wondered, fleetingly, what had happened to Crookshanks. He quickly pushed the thought away, however, paying for the beautiful, black eagle-owl he had chosen for John, taking no heed whatsoever of the wishes that Lily expressed so ardently.
'You can have a cat when you get your letter,' he told Lily as they left the shop, going over to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where Harry bought them three strawberry and peanut butter ice creams.
'What if I don't get a letter?' Lily said fretfully. 'What if I'm not magic?' Harry looked at her thoughtfully, thinking back, remembering what she had been like as a small child. He realised, now, that – deep down – he'd known all along that both his children were magic. They had done so many strange things that could not be explained in any other way; only he himself had acted like a true muggle, making up explanations for their behaviour.
'You are,' he said reassuringly. 'Don't worry, Lily, I know you are.'
