Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. The all belong to J. K. Rowling. But you knew that already.

Author's Note: Thanks again to Yolanda for the beta and to the wonderful folks who have reviewed. For those of you who are totally sick of the Burrow and ready for Hogwarts, I promise, the next chapter begins the school year. Teaser for that chapter: If you're concerned about the plausibility of three Prefects from the same House in the same year, Chapter Seven will, I hope, lay those concerns to rest. For now, though, on to Chapter Six!

Chapter Six: To Diagon Alley

By the next morning, Harry had snapped out of his gloom and back into his usual state of worried-but-coping. He was anticipating the trip to Diagon Alley with a mixture of excitement, curiosity, and trepidation. Though he'd have been embarrassed to admit it, he found shopping for school supplies really fun. Also, he was very interested to see if the everyday routines of the wizarding world had changed at all or if, instead, everything was going along just as it normally did. He was a little apprehensive about being in so public a place, but he managed to shelve that concern.

Breakfast was not quite as lively as usual, as it was taking place an hour before it normally did; Mrs. Weasley wanted to get an early start on the shopping, for she was meeting a friend lunch and wanted to Floo back fairly soon afterward. The biggest event at breakfast was the arrival of three Hogwarts owls for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They opened their letters to great curiosity from Ginny and the twins. It was unusual for Hogwarts letters to come to some, rather than all, of them.

"Prefect letters," Harry said, giving his a quick skim.

"Top-secret," Ron added. "We have to memorise them and then eat them so that they can't fall into unauthorised hands."

"You shouldn't have told them that, Ron," Harry said, playing along. "Now Hermione and I are duty-bound to kill you for giving away secrets."

"Honestly, you two are too ridiculous for words. Here, you can read mine." Hermione handed her letter to Ginny, who read it aloud:

Dear Miss Granger,

We are very pleased to receive your acceptance of the position of Hogwarts Prefect. Enclosed is your badge and a list your fellow Prefects. You are expected to wear the badge at all times that you are on duty, beginning when you board the Hogwarts Express.

There will be a meeting of the Prefects in the front car of the Hogwarts Express. This car is reserved for Prefects ONLY. At this meeting, you will be told more about your duties.

Again, congratulations on becoming a Prefect. We trust that you will be a credit to the position.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry skimmed the list of names quickly. Then he read it again more closely, thinking that their had to be some mistake. There wasn't. A great balloon of happiness swelled in his chest. "You know whose name isn't on that list?" he asked, feeling his face split into a wide grin. When Ron and Hermione didn't answer, he informed them, "Malfoy. Slytherin Prefects for our year are Blaise Zabini, Queenie Greengrass, and Tracey Davis."

The table erupted into happy cheers. Malfoy was just as nasty to the Weasleys as he was to Harry, so news of his being passed over for any honour was music to their collective ears.

Mrs. Weasley finally interrupted their gloating to tell them to hurry. "I want everyone down here and ready to Floo in ten minutes," she told them in her I-mean-business tone. "And don't forget your lists and your money."

The Weasley boys scattered to gather their lists and their money. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, who had brought their lists and money when they came to breakfast, lingered over their tea while Mrs. Weasley bemoaned her sons' lack of foresight. "I wonder if those boys would think to bring their heads if they weren't attached," she grumbled, but she didn't actually sound angry. Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley enjoyed lamenting her children's failures, and he suspected that, if they were perfect and she had nothing to nag them about, she'd have been miserable.

The three Weasley boys arrived back in the kitchen, and Mrs. Weasley herded them toward the fireplace. Before they could start Flooing, Harry said, "One thing, before we go." All attention turned to him, and he continued, "If we run into Malfoy today, we're ignoring him, okay? No matter what he says, we're not responding to him. We're not speaking to him. We're pretending he doesn't exist." In response to the surprised looks from the twins, he added, "Hermione and Ron and I were talking about it. It's the way we've decided to deal with him at school this year to keep him from getting us into trouble. Will you all do it, too? We think it'll make him madder than anything else we could do." Ginny quickly agreed. The twins looked a little disappointed—Harry suspected that they'd been planning to try out some Weasley's Wizard Wheeze prototypes on Malfoy at the slightest provocation—but they assented as well.

One by one, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley Apparated a few moments later; Harry knew that she had put out the fire as soon as the last of her brood had left The Burrow.

"All right. First stop, Gringotts," Mrs. Weasley said. "We'll need money." The group followed her out of The Leaky Cauldron to the lot behind it. She tapped the appropriate brick with her wand, and the entrance to Diagon Alley opened. They all walked through and strolled toward the impressive edifice of the wizarding bank.

No matter how many times he came to Diagon Alley, Harry was always amazed by it. The bustle, the noise, the sheer quantity of things never failed to impress him. He examined his fellow shoppers carefully for any sign of change since the last time that he had come here. It seemed mostly the same; perhaps the people were a little more watchful, and perhaps the glances that, as one of the most famous people in the wizarding world, Harry never failed to attract were a little more suspicious—for which suspicion, he knew, he had Rita Skeeter and her poison-pen articles in the Daily Prophet to thank—but, on the whole, not much had changed. Harry wasn't sure if he was glad about that or not.

One thing was different; it was raining. Harry had never been it Diagon Alley in the rain before. He hadn't even realised that it did rain in Diagon Alley. That was silly, he knew; of course it had to rain, or the place would be a desert. Mrs. Weasley cast Umbrella Charms on them all—they could have cast them themselves, but, since they weren't supposed to use magic, so she insisted on doing it for them—and they arrived at Gringotts as dry as if it were a sunny day. A pair of goblins ushered them into the large entrance hall. There was a queue waiting for the goblin carts that took customers to the vaults.

"We won't all fit in one cart," George observed.

"Well, I don't need to go," Hermione said. "I just need to go to the main desk and change some Muggle money." Ginny offered to go with her, and Mrs. Weasley sent Fred and George with the girls. She, Harry, and Ron took a spot in the queue.

The line moved quickly—goblins were paragons of efficiency—and soon Harry, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley were rocketing along in the goblin cart. They went first to the Weasleys' vault. When he glanced in, Harry was thrilled to see that it had a fair amount of money, much more than it had contained the last time that he'd seen it. Ron's mouth dropped in surprise.

"Mum?" he asked. "Where did all that money come from?"

"Well, your father would hardly be doing all that work without extra pay, now, would he?" She answered. "He's been getting three Department Head salaries, plus overtime. So no second-hand robes this year."

Ron would probably never know it, but he wouldn't have had second-hand robes this year even without this sudden windfall. When Harry had given the twins his Tri-Wizard Tournament winnings, he had asked them to use part of it to buy Ron some new dress robes to replace the much-hated maroon ones that his mother had gotten for him the year before. Harry grinned to himself, thinking that the twins could use that portion of the money to make more Seeker's Scourges now that Mr. Weasley was starting to be paid (almost) what he worth. The Weasleys hadn't been destitute, but, with so many children still in school, they'd never had much extra money. It would be nice for Ron to have something other than hand-me-downs and things from the second-hand store, and it would probably be even nicer for his mother to be able to buy new things for him.

Despite the sudden infusion of money into the Weasley vault, Harry was still a little embarrassed when they arrived at his own. His parents had left him a staggering amount of money, and one of the first big surprises he'd had upon entering the wizarding world was the discovery that he had sole possession of a small fortune. Unlike Draco Malfoy, who flaunted his wealth every chance he had, Harry had always lived quite modestly; his early deprivation at the Dursleys' hands hadn't really accustomed him to spending much money. He quickly filled his money pouch, and the goblin cart careened back up to the lobby.

"Now, we need to go to Madame Malkins, the apothecary's, the parchment store, and Flourish and Blotts," Mrs. Weasley said to the reconvened group as they left the bank. "We should save Flourish and Blotts for last so that we don't have to carry all those books around all day."

"I also need to go to Magical Menagerie," Ron said. "Need some owl treats for my stupid puffball."

"And I need to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies," said Fred. I'm running low on polish."

"And we need to check out the competition at Gambol and Japes," George finished, grinning wickedly.

Mrs. Weasley made an impatient noise. "I am not wasting my time in joke shops," she said firmly. "If you two have to indulge in such silliness, you can do it while I'm at lunch. Now, who needs pet supplies?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione raised their hands. Harry nearly laughed at how instinctive hand-raising was to students, even in the summertime. "And who wants to go to the Quidditch store?" All hands but Hermione's raised. Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Okay. Why don't I go get your Potions ingredients and your parchment and quills; I know none of you will be sad to miss a trip to the apothecary's or the parchment shop. Fred, since you actually have something to buy at the Quidditch store, you and George go ahead there. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, you go to Magical Menagerie, and then meet the twins at the Quidditch store. Ginny, you go with whichever group you prefer. I'll meet you at Madame Malkin's in half an hour." She turned and headed toward the apothecary's.

Harry stood, staring after her, feeling a little shell-shocked. Mrs. Weasley's organisational efficiency was a bit disorienting.

"You heard her, troops. Move out!" Fred barked. In his normal tone, he added, "Ginny, you coming with us or going with them?"

"I'd better go with them to make sure Ron gets the treats that Pigwidgeon likes," Ginny replied. Fred, George, and Ron rolled their eyes—none of them could understand Ginny's fondness for Ron's owl—and the two groups dispersed to their chosen locations.

At Magical Menagerie, Harry and Ron bought owl treats for their pets, and Hermione bought some catnip for Crookshanks. That business done, they hurried to join the twins at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

When they arrived there, Fred had already purchased his broomstick polish, and he and George were now checking out the new broom models. Harry noticed that the Firebolt was still the featured display item; even two years after its introduction, no other line had been able to produce a broomstick to rival it. The new Cleansweeps were nice, though—not Firebolts, of course, but snazzy nonetheless. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were quickly involved in a heated debate over the relative merits of different brooms. Harry stood a little apart, watching them and thinking. Hermione, noticing that he seemed quiet, asked if he were all right.

"I'm fine," he answered. "Just getting an idea. Not a very important idea, but …. Anyway, I'll tell you later; it's time to meet Mrs. Weasley." He and Hermione tore the Weasleys away, though their debate continued all the way to the robe shop.

Madame Malkin's was surprisingly quiet; Harry thought that they must have hit a slow period. The lack of other customers meant that Madame Malkin and her assistants were free to lavish their attention on Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. All six were soon equipped with new everyday robes—necessary because they had all grown over the summer. "Now, how about dress robes?" the proprietress asked.

"Yes, those were on the list," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Mine from last year are fine," George said. "They were a little long, so they fit now." Fred added that his old ones were fine, too.

"No. You're all getting new ones," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. She didn't add that, now that they had enough money, her children were going to have the best robes whether they wanted them or not, but the point was clear, and none of her children bothered to argue. Not with her, anyway; instead, they argued with one another over the robes in which each would look best. Fred and George kept pointing out maroon fabrics to Ron, who hated maroon, and pink robes to Ginny, with whose hair pink robes would have clashed horribly. They also suggested some scandalously skimpy styles to Hermione, who, to Harry's surprise, giggled helplessly instead of fuming. Ron, his face purple, glared at his older brothers, who wisely decided to concentrate on their own robes for now.

When the dust from the whirlwind that a shopping expedition with the Weasleys always was had settled, everyone had new robes. George's were navy and Fred's a deep plum, and they would have been surprisingly conservative if not for the gold fireworks that burst across them; according to the saleswitch, the fireworks would burst in time with music at parties. Hermione's were a coppery brown, bringing out highlights in her hair, and they were styled much like her blue ones last year; Harry thought they were very nice. After brief skirmishes with his mother ("Yes, Mum, I know the brown ones match my eyes, but they make my freckles stand out.") and the twins ("'Silly?' You've got ruddy fireworks on yours; don't talk to me about 'silly.'), Ron had ended up with dark, forest-green robes with a small pattern that looked, at first glance, like copper-colored paisleys but that proved, on closer inspection, to be chess men.

Ginny's new robes were silvery-grey and just a little iridescent. As he had waited and watched the alterations witch working at them, Harry had noticed that he liked the way the light caught them when she moved, and he'd reckoned they'd look really nice when she danced. Wondering where that thought had come from, had had quickly walked away to the desk to pay for his own new robes—robes by which he was simultaneously thrilled and disconcerted. Their dominant color was scarlet, and they were trimmed in gold braid and fringe, almost like a Muggle military uniform, and had a gold lion embroidered on the back. These were robes for a Gryffindor, and they made Harry feel ten feet tall and curse-proof. The Harry who had gazed back from the changing-room mirror looked bigger, stronger, more sure of himself. He wasn't quite sure what to think of that Harry, and he was distinctly unsettled by the way all conversation suddenly stopped when that Harry entered the room, but he had gotten the robes anyway, and the group had headed off to buy schoolbooks.

Flourish and Blotts was terrifically crowded; Harry supposed that all the people who hadn't been in Madame Malkin's were here. Harry finished gathering all the books he needed, and he was about to join the check-out queue when Ron pulled him into an empty aisle. He looked worried, and Harry felt himself tense; when he heard what Ron was actually worrying about, he nearly laughed in relief.

"Hermione's birthday is in a few weeks."

Hiding his amusement, Harry said, "Yeah. So?"

"So, what are we getting her?" Ron sounded amazed at Harry's obtuseness. "We're right here in the bookstore; what better place to start looking?"

Now Harry was really struggling not to grin. When he was sure he could keep the smile out of his voice, he said, "I don't think a book is the best idea this year. Not from you, anyway."

"What do you mean, not from me?" Ron replied, his voice dangerous.

"Well, she did seem to think it was rather, erm, important for you to realise that she's a girl. Books are kind of, well, not really girly." He shrugged and watched Ron's ears turn pink.

"What do you get for a girl?" Ron looked utterly perplexed.

Harry shrugged again. "Ask Ginny. She's a girl; she should know."

"Well, what are you getting her?"

"A book." Harry showed Ron Practical Magic: Everyday Magic for Muggle-Born Witches and Wizards. "You know, she's always saying she feels kind of behind since she didn't grow up seeing magic done every day. Well, this tells about those everyday spells—cooking, and cleaning, and organising and things—that they don't teach at Hogwarts."

Ron looked even more perplexed. "But you just said not to get her a book!"

Harry finally allowed himself the wicked grin that he had been holding in reserve. "I said for you not to get her a book. She doesn't care if I don't seem to notice she's a girl."

Harry practically raced out of the aisle; he wanted to get back in the open before Ron figured out what he meant. He noticed Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan looking at this year's Divination textbooks, so he stopped to talk to them. They claimed to be having pretty good summers, though Harry noticed that both were a little more watchful than usual. Hermione joined them as soon as she spotted them. She was thrilled to see that Dean was buying How To Survive the OWLs While Still Managing to Eat and Sleep at Least Five Days Out of Seven. She examined their other purchases, noticed the Divination books, and was just getting started on her speech about how useless Professor Trelawney's class was when Seamus's formidable mother arrived to tell the boys to hurry up because she had found the perfect dress robes for them both. Seamus and Dean resignedly followed her to check out, and Harry and Hermione went to look for the Weasleys. They quickly found Fred and George in the "Magical Jokes and Tricks" section. Harry and Hermione managed to drag them away, and they found Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley just in time to join them at the back of the checkout queue. The line moved very slowly, but they finally got to pay for their purchases. Mrs. Weasley was just in time for her lunch at the Leaky Cauldron; she instructed her young charges to meet her there in precisely one hour.

"Where to now?" Harry asked.

They decided on lunch. The twins didn't want to go to the Leaky Cauldron—"We can't eat where Mum's eating; it would ruin our images!"—so they went to Florian Fortesceau's ice cream shop. Florian sold sandwiches now, in addition to ice cream, and, as he had an indoor dining area, he was doing a booming business with shoppers who wanted a break from the rain. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys couldn't find a table for six, so they settled for a table for four with two extra chairs squeezed in. They didn't have to stay so crowded for long, for Fred and George wolfed down their lunches as fast as they could in order to have more time at the joke shop. The other four ate more slowly and stayed for dessert; Harry had developed quite a taste for Florian's ice cream when he had stayed in Diagon Alley for a few weeks the summer before his third year. He was just telling Ginny about the way Florian at helped him with his History of Magic essay when a familiar, drawling voice interrupted.

"Well, well, if it isn't Scarhead and his fan club. And the fan club's bigger. What happened, Potter, did you decide you needed another pauper to follow you around?"

Harry felt the familiar rush of anger, but he forced himself to smother it. He was ignoring Malfoy. He was ignoring him. Willing his voice to stay steady, he continued, as though he hadn't even heard Malfoy, "He really knows a lot about History of Magic; it's kind of a hobby of his. And he gave me free sundaes every half-hour. He's a nice fellow."

"Bet you wish you'd been around for that, don't you, Weasel?" Malfoy said. "Something free; you'd have thought you were in heaven."

Ron's neck was starting to flush, but he was managing not to respond to Malfoy's taunts. Ginny, seeing that Ron was in no condition to keep up the conversation, hopped in with, "Wish I'd had him around when I was working on my History of Magic this summer; it was goblin rebellions again. I thought I'd scream if I had to read one more word about Ogden the Odious."

"Maybe you'd like goblins better if you ever had occasion to be around any—like, say, in a bank," Malfoy said. "That's where they keep money—not that you'd know."

"It's a shame, really," Hermione said, placing a restraining hand on Ron's arm. "There are so many interesting things in the history of magic, and we never talk about any of those in class. It's all goblin rebellions and Warlock Conferences."

"I wish we could talk about Mudblood Purges; that would be interesting." Malfoy paused dramatically, then pretended to correct himself. "Oh, wait; those aren't really history. It was only three years ago that Weasel-girl…."

Harry saw tears form in Ginny's eyes, though she quickly blinked them away, and he felt his temper rise. How dare Malfoy taunt Ginny about the Chamber of Secrets when his own filthy father was responsible for that? He touched her foot with his under the table in what he hoped was a comforting way. Time to end this little discussion, he decided; people were starting to stare. Cutting the son off in mid-sentence, he called across the room to the father, "Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed as they met Harry's, but Harry knew that he wouldn't dare to do anything to him in such a public place. His voice, when he answered, was full of an entirely phony civility. "Why, Mr. Potter. How lovely to see you."

"Thank you, sir. I'm sorry to have to trouble you, but I wonder if you might be able to require your son to make himself less of a nuisance." Harry paused to let those words sink in, and he heard a few snickers from the surrounding tables; people might pay some measure of respect to the Malfoys' wealth and prestige, but that didn't mean that anyone was sorry to see them get taken down a few pegs. Harry continued, "I'd hate to have to report him to the manager for disturbing other customers, but that's what I'll be forced to do if he can't allow my friends and me to eat in peace."

Both of the Malfoys had turned pink with anger. "Draco! Come with me at once!" The younger Malfoy shot Harry a look of pure hatred as he hastened to his father's side. "Mr. Potter.…" Harry knew by the expression on Lucius Malfoy's face that he was about to say something nasty, but he suddenly realised that every eye in the room was on him. Harry watched his quick internal struggle as his desire to get the last word fought with his desire not to let his veneer of respectability crack. Respectability won in the end, and he finished his sentence with a slightly strangled-sounding, "…I'm terribly sorry that he was disturbing you. I'll see that it doesn't happen again."

"Thank you, sir; I'd appreciate that." Harry nodded politely to Mr. Malfoy, who practically dragged his son from the restaurant.

When the door closed behind them, the room, which had fallen silent during Harry's conversation, immediately buzzed with chatter. A proper-looking, elderly witch at the next table leaned over to Harry and said, "You handled that very well, dear. It's so nice to see young people who know how to use words instead of fists. So nice!"

Harry blushed and thanked the witch, who turned back to her sundae. He saw Hermione shoot a repressive look at Ron, who was clearly fighting a snicker. "Something funny, Ron?" he asked.

"Old Lucius looked like he was about to choke, having to say something civil to you. You really did handle him just right…." His mouth quirked at the corners, and he added, "…dear," and then dissolved in laughter

Hermione choked on her Pumpkin Juice Float, Ginny giggled, and even Harry had to chuckle. The four of them were still grinning when they left Florian's to meet Mrs. Weasley.