Chapter Two

Trading in Fame

(from Hermione's perspective)

Hermione Granger was the happiest she could ever remember being.

As it turned out, Hermione's Aunt took quite a liking to Harry. It had been an oddly good coincidence when they'd arrived to the inn just past dinner.

Hermione had immediately set off to introduce Harry to her Aunt.

Hermione's Aunt, Elisa, had been in the midst of washing up the dinner dishes when they'd found her. Hermione introduced her Aunt, moving over to lend a hand with the dishes, and started to chatter about Harry (obviously only about things that would fit with their deception). Used to the demands of the Dursleys, Harry had automatically grabbed a drying towel and pitched in. Elisa had been startled a moment, and told Harry he certainly didn't need to help. With a charming grin, Harry'd said it was no problem, and simply asked where the glasses went. An inns' worth of clean dishes later, Elisa was nearly ready to adopt him.

In the process of all this, Harry and herself had managed to carefully weave a story about his life that was at least half-true, and gained her sympathy. Apparently, or so the two youths said, Harry's parents could not afford to send him to a good school. Harry's grandmother was somewhat ill, and was old enough that she needed some help around the house. In exchange for Harry's help, his grandmother had agreed to take care of his schooling expenses, but it had been left to Harry to get to her home near London on his own. The teens told Elisa that Harry was due there in time for the start of school, but that it would take him nearly that long to walk, and he hadn't enough money for a train. Elisa immediately offered him free room and meals for help with the dishes. Even further, if he wished to stay on for the next four weeks, and do a few odd jobs, she would pay him a small stipend, and buy his ticket to London herself.

Which meant that if he stayed, he'd get to where he needed to go in plenty of time, and by train. Harry couldn't believe his luck. He was going to Wizarding School, he had a nice, Dursley-free place to stay for the next four weeks, and he had cash in his pocket that had no purpose other than his own entertainment. Plenty of cash. Now all he had to do was learn a bit more about wizards. Harry felt he'd lost out on an entire lifetime of knowledge that most of the students, brought up as wizards, would surely carry with them into school.

Hermione agreed with him, and they determined that, together, they'd learn as much as they could before they got there. Which meant, first of all, getting school supplies.

Hermione's parents hadn't yet taken her to Diagon Alley, but she'd been there twice already without them. The first time, the witch who worked at the library had taken her. It had been necessary, when Hermione'd first stumbled upon the wizarding section, to prove that she wasn't going crazy.

The library-witch had flooed them both to the Ministry of Magic sub-offices in Diagon Alley, where things had been sorted out. The ministry office-wizard had given them an appointment card, and they'd spent the intervening half-hour on a quick tour (which, of course, culminated in a visit to Flourish and Blotts). Upon returning to the Ministry office, it had been decided that Hermione would not be obliviated, and would be given access to the wizarding books at the library, provided she keep entirely secret her status as a witch. They had, however, forbidden her from using the library floo, at least until she turned eleven. Hermione was also given instructions to drop back by the office when she turned eleven, to arrange for someone to explain things to her parents.

The day after Hermione turned eleven was her second visit. She'd gotten money from her grandparents for her birthday, and known exactly where she'd spend it. She'd asked the library-witch to go with her again, and it had taken very little persuasion for the woman to agree to an outing. The first stop had been Gringotts, to change money, then Olivander's. Finding a wand had been quick and painless; when Olivander brought the boxes out, Hermione had /known/ which one was right, and plucked a box from halfway down the stack. She'd waved the wand, glowing nearly as much as the silver sparks that she made, and paid the old shopkeeper, barely even noticing.

Less than five minutes later, they were on their way to Flourish and Blotts, where Hermione had gotten a whole stack of books, on everything from "101 Useful Household Charms" to "Be the Better Student: a Student's Guide to High Achievement".

The trip had, of course, included their second visit to the ministry.

The receptionist had given Hermione a form to fill out, and then informed her that a team would be by her parents' house that evening to introduce them to the wizarding world. With a bit of a conspiritorial grin, she had also told Hermione that, for the rest of the summer, she was allowed to experiment with any bits of first-year magic she would like to attempt, provided she did so in private. Hermione was also warned that this would be the only time she would be allowed to use magic outside of school until she completed her education. The receptionist had then winked at her, and showed her a neat color-change charm that was easy to manage, that Hermione might like to try for her parents.

Hermione, of course, had gotten it on her first try.

By the end of that afternoon, she'd tried it on everything from her fingernails to a glass of water. The librarian had found it quite amusing. So much so, in fact, that she taught Hermione a charm to make things flash in different colors. It was a bit more complicated, and Hermione had been unable to quite manage it. The effect she did get, however (a gradual change from one color to another) was equally satisfying.

That, however, was months ago. Today was /Harry's/ eleventh birthday, and Hermione intended for Harry to have /his/ wand and supplies, as well. Harry, on the other hand, felt more than awkward about going into a world where he would be hero-worshipped. Especially with the way he looked, in his cousins' beat-up castoffs. But Hermione was not to be deterred.

Making sparing use of Harry's cash, Hermione bought him some well-fitting jeans and a tee-shirt at a second-hand store, along with a plain cap to cover his hair and scar. She repaired his glasses with a tap of her wand, and declared him disguised. After all, no one in the wizarding world would actually know what he /looked/ like, aside from the scar.


(Harry's VP)

Harry wasn't worried, not really. Hermione's explanation of Floo powder was careful and precise, as was her wont. By the time they reached the Library, Harry was quite confident that he could manage it. At least now he knew why the fireplace at the library, the one in the wizarding book section, had been so large. Throwing the powder into the flames, Harry shouted his destination clearly. He began to spin around, slowly at first, then faster and faster, seeing glimpses of living rooms and streets and countless other places. He was feeling entirely nauseous, and so closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Harry wasn't seeing anything at all. And then, he was seeing flashing fireplaces again, except that he knew there was something different, he knew he hadn't opened his eyes. Like it was a movie, playing in his mind, or as though he were caught in a dream. He saw himself flying out of a fireplace, then looking around in a dark, somewhat eerie room.

He stood, looking about, the dimly lit room appearing to him as though through cracked glasses, and the floor seemed further away than last he'd seen. He had the sensation that what he was seeing wasn't really there, that it was a dream, or a vision, or a memory. He was moving, and acting, but he had no control over what he was doing. He saw himself running to hide from something, and started getting worried.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it ended, and he saw the flickering grates again, slowing in their spinning.

He came to a stop at a cheery looking side-street, seemingly made up of fireplaces on opposite-facing walls. He stepped away, and looked around him. On the opposite wall, men, women, and children were queing up to use the fireplaces, presumably to leave. Flashes of greenish light to his right and left signaled the arrival of other witches and wizards.

To the right, at the end of the street, were small, odd-looking fireplaces situated halfway up the wall. There were benches in front of them, and one man was kneeling on one of these with his head in the flames. It had to be the oddest thing Harry had ever seen. He was just about to ask someone about it, when someone spoke from behind him.

"They're for talking through. If you put just your head in, then that's all that gets sent to the other side - and you can converse with whomever's at the other end." Of course, it was Hermione. For a moment, Harry stopped to wonder at how well Hermione retained information, even about mundane things.

However, it was only for a moment; they had much to do. The sooner they got done and got out of here, the less of a chance Harry had of being discovered for who he was.

With a determined air, they set off down the street side-by-side. Their first stop was Gringott's. The goblins refused to take him to his vault without his key, but were perfectly happy to give Harry a magical sort of student credit card, which would work only on supplies that were school-related. The goblin explained that they could not purchase any unnecessarily gaudy supplies, or any games or quidditch supplies. They would, however, be able to purchase things that were not specifically on the list; anything that was academic in nature would be accepted. Harry and Hermione grinned at each other; they might just empty the bookstore.

Dashing back out of the bank, card in hand, the two fairly flew to the bookstore. Harry, however, put out a hand, and stopped Hermione before either of them went in. He realized the foolishness of such a decision. If they went there first, they would never manage to leave. He literally had to drag Hermione away, her gaze still focused on the window-display of Flourish and Blotts. They were nearly halfway down the street before she grudgingly turned to follow him towards the Apothecary.

They made short work of grabbing the necessary ingredients, the scales, and the cauldrons. The checkout was simple; everything they purchased was exactly as was requested on their lists. Then it was Hermione dragging Harry along the street; excited as he was at the prospect of a new wardrobe, Harry was afraid he would be discovered. He doubted they'd let him try on new clothes with his disguise in place.

Hermione's strength of will won out again, and Harry shortly found himself standing on a stool beside another boy, who was also being measured for robes. Harry'd never been fitted for anything before, and was feeling somewhat unnerved. Contrary to Harry's somewhat timid bearing in the awkward situation, the other boy stood as though he'd done this a thousand times. Come to that, the other boy stood as though he owned the store.

Harry returned his attention to the seamswitch as she clucked her tongue at his appearance. "Take off the hat, young man."

Harry shot a panicked look in Hermione's direction, but she was off glancing through the racks of robes. He flinched, but did as she asked. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice anything off, and simply took the hat and proceeded to measure him. The boy beside Harry, however, was a different story.

A soft gasp alerted Harry to the fact that he'd been recognized. "Aren't you-"

Harry looked up quickly, and shot the boy a pleading look. The boy clamped his mouth shut, eyes slightly wide, and seemed to consider for a moment. Visibly gaining control of himself, he nodded. Harry relaxed.

The boy got a plotting look in his eye "My parents are off gathering my school supplies for me, would you like to go for an ice cream after this" the boy asked. He looked pointedly at Harry, and flicked his eyes in the direction of Harry's scar, before focusing on him once more.

Harry understood, the boy was demanding to speak to him in exchange for silence about Harry's identity. Harry once again sought Hermione with his eyes, but she had moved off even further in the store.

Misinterpreting Harry's glance, the boy amended "Your friend may come, as well."

Harry simply nodded.

The boy grinned. "The name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He said, offering Harry his hand. Draco smirked, knowing full well the awkward situation he'd placed Harry in.

"I'm James" Harry responded, using his middle name, with a slight smile at the other boy's antics. He reached out, and grasped Draco's hand.

Draco gave Harry a surprised, appraising glance, as though he hadn't thought Harry capable of the small deception. Harry had replied smoothly, having expected the necessity of an alias, and Draco had obviously expected him to at least stutter. Draco smiled, slyly.

They shook hands.

Harry felt a sense of satisfaction at having surprised the boy, but there was something else as well. The odd, familiar sensation Harry felt around Hermione was present again, though it was slightly different. It confused Harry, but, considering the surprises of the last few days, he supposed it might just be "magic". Perhaps, it was telling him that this boy could be as good a friend to him as Hermione seemed to be. Harry hoped so.

"That's you done, dear"

Hermione, by this time, came over. Harry was aware that she hadn't gotten robes on her first trip, and motioned her in the direction of the stool. Hermione frowned.

"I haven't the money on me, for this. And, while I didn't mind you buying the potions supplies, I won't have you buying my robes as well."

Harry snorted. "Hermione, just get the robes. It's not like I'll notice the difference, and you'll save yourself a trip."

Hermione grinned "You really think we won't be back before the end of summer?"

By this time, Draco was done as well. "Har- er, James." Hermione looked at him sharply, and Draco cleared his throat at the slip up, before continuing. "The ice cream, then?" and then added, so that only Harry could hear "And you might want to put that hat back on."

"Ice cream, Harry?" Hermione questioned, curious as to what was going on.

"Yes." Harry stated firmly, answering both questions.


Five minutes later found the three youths seated around a table, picking over menus to decide on ice-creams. Harry caught Draco looking at him for the third time, and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Draco looked back, apprehensively "Why did you fake your death?" he finally blurted out.

Harry was shocked, to say the least "Death? What do you mean? I didn't fake my death!"

"But it's been all over the papers. How you lived with these horrid muggles, who didn't want you getting your letter, and how they kept you locked up and treated you horribly all your life. How they dumped you on some rock in the middle of an ocean during a storm, just to keep you from it, and how you tragically flung yourself off it just to be rid of them, before getting the chance to discover who you really were."

Harry could only laugh. "That story's a bit embellished. Not that it wouldn't have been worth it, but I didn't die, nor did I know anyone thought I was dead."

Harry then told his story, from the moment he'd seen the boat bashing against the little island, up to the present, Draco hanging on his every word.

"I guess that's it. I'd still be stuck in that town, though, if it weren't for Hermione." Harry glanced affectionately at his friend.

A strange look came over Draco's face. "Harry. I – look, this is going to sound weird, and I suppose it's a bit personal, but – do you hate the muggles, for what they did?"

"The muggles? Those particular ones, I suppose, though hate might be a bit strong for it. All muggles? No."

"Why not?" Draco asked.

"Well, because… they're human, too. You know? Just like us. I can't blame all of them for what one did. And… I know plenty of them who are nice enough."

Draco was silent, contemplative. His gaze went unfocused for a moment. Then, he seemed to come to a decision, and stood. "I have to go, now, my parents will be looking for me soon. But… I'd like to meet you again. Tomorrow, perhaps? I could floo to wherever you are, my parents won't mind, I'll just tell them I'm visiting a friend."

Harry stood as well, considering Draco a moment; that same odd feeling was there, as though trying to tell him something. "That sounds good. I'll be working in the morning, though. How about in the evening? The floo address is 'Hopkins Memorial Library'."

"At six, then? And Harry – look, I know you don't know me, but, trust me. Just wait, at least until after we talk tomorrow, to tell anyone you're not dead." Draco asked.

They shook on it, and Draco left down the street. Harry plopped back into his seat, and looked at Hermione. "There's far more going on there than he let on."

"I just hope he explains more, tomorrow." Hermione said.

Harry sighed. "I hope so too, Hermione." He reached in his pocket, and grabbed a tips' worth of coins. "Let's get going, we still have to get to Olivander's before we go to Flourish and Blott's"

"Harry, are you sure that's a good idea?" Hermione asked. "He said not to let on who you are, and I'm inclined to trust him. The bookstore, I think we can get away with; it should be busy enough this time of year. But in Olivader's, you have to be measured for you wand… it's too much risk."

Harry grinned "You just want to go to the bookstore."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, but then grinned sheepishly "Maybe."

"We'll have to come back anyways, for your robes." Harry returned, laughing. He stood, and offered Hermione his hand. "Shall we?"

"We shall" Hermione said, and they set off down the street.

Not two shops away, however, Harry paused. "I wonder if that would count as "practical" he said.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"That, the book-bag" Harry responded "It's charmed, with six "separate" compartments for books. Look, there're six flaps on the top, and under each one is a different inside to the bag." Harry attempted to explain it.

"I don't know, but I'd imagine that would count for practical. That's an awfully efficient organizing system." Then she spotted the price tag. "Oh. Perhaps not. No harm in asking, though."

A sales clerk appeared, as though summoned by their questions regarding the expensive purchase. "Something I can help you with, today?" she asked.

"Yes." Harry said. "I was interested in this bag. But I have a student card, that will only let me make practical purchases. Would this be allowed, do you know?"

The clerk frowned. "I don't know, let me go ask, I'll be right back."

She returned a minute later, smiling brightly. "If you get two of them, and promise me your parents won't be making you bring them back, my manager says he'll get it through. Normally, though, he says it's not allowed."

Harry got the feeling that whatever the manager intended to do to "get it through" wasn't entirely above-board. It was not, however, to his advantage to question the girl or her boss, so he kept his mouth shut, and nodded.

"Would you like any additional charms on them?" The sales girl asked. "We can put those on the student card, as well."

"Er," Harry responded "What else can be done to them?"

"Well, first, you can pick a color." She pulled out a huge chart, of colors, fabrics, and stitching styles. "Any of these here come standard, and these here are rip-proof. Then there're charms for weightlessness, for keeping anyone out without a password, for keeping ink from spilling, no matter how it's placed in the bag. You can also have your name embroidered, or have one or more of the compartments enlarged."

The sales girl continued for ages, going on and on about features. Half an hour later, Harry and Hermione emerged with two bags with a reasonable number of charms on them. They weren't weightless, as that was far too expensive, but they were charmed to weigh about a tenth the contents' weight. One compartment was expanded to about six feet by four feet by three feet high, large enough for a person lying down, or for whatever equipment they could possibly need to carry.

The bags were resistant to almost any spell, were unbreakable, and were password-protected. Harry had chosen a bag in black, and Hermione in charcoal grey, as those were the only colors either liked that wouldn't be partial to a particular house. The compartments were each lined with a different color, as to better tell them apart in a quick glance.

All in all, they were happy with their purchases, but both felt a bit guilty at the amount of money they'd spent. They shared a sheepish grin, and made for Flourish and Blott's, silently agreeing to be more reasonable in their book purchases than they'd originally intended.

Unfortunately, both realized, they now had the perfect means to carry home more books than they otherwise would have. They laughed at each other as they approached the counter, tottering piles of books in hand. The purchase was far from reasonable. They each filled four compartments in their bags, and found themselves quite glad for the weight-reducing charm, as they meandered back in the direction of the floo fireplaces.

A quick, disorienting travel-by-fire later, they landed back in the library. They exited, and found themselves outside on the sort of end-of-summer evening that fills you with energy, and hope for the future. Grinning, they took off, racing for the inn, reveling in the feeling of youth and friendship.