Harry strolled into Hogsmeade. The place was bustling with wizards and witches. Nervously, he tried to flatten his fringe over his forehead, but he reckoned too many people had seen photos of him anyway.
Hogsmeade was cheery, but somehow, the laughter had a layer of fear overlaid. Harry could understand; Voldemort was loose and angry, and there was no telling when he and his followers would pop out of the snow like so many flesh-eating zombies.
Harry kept staring down. Fortunately, it being nearly Christmas, no one paid much attention to a boy, coat zipped up to the chin and staring fiercely at the floor, much attention.
Harry wondered where to go first. Well, he knew what he was going to get Hermione, anyway. He'd seen an advert for them in the Prophet.
He slipped into the bookshop opposite from Dervish & Banges, and sighed as he encountered the pleasant heat of the warmly-lit shop. The shop smelled musty and old... but approachable. It didn't have quiet the same busyness as, say, Flourish & Blottes.
The bookshelves leaned at crooked angles. In fact, as Harry took a closer look, they were not merely crooked; the bookshelves themselves did not go up in a straight line there were strange twists in the walls. He saw one bookshelf that was positively X-shaped. However, they seemed friendly as opposed to menacing. The shop was small, by wizarding standards; he could see to the end of it. The high ceilings, half cast in shadow, were comforting. They eased the sense of claustrophobia.
Looking up, he opened his mouth in amazement. Where the bookcase ended, another began, and there was an extremely rickety-looking balcony to that one, with an extremely rickety-looking ladder. All the bookcases, except for the ones in the centre of the floor, were many-tiered. Harry got the feeling that there was more knowledge in here than anyone could ever suppose...
The place was empty; all Hogwarts students were away, and not many people bought others books for Christmas in a magical community. For a start, Dervish and Banges was just down the road, and since the Weasley twins had opened their own shop...
He ran a hand though his hair, noticed what he was doing and hastily flattened it down. He approached the small desk near the door and rapped on it apprehensively.
A small man with a fringe of white hair and milk-bottle glasses opened a door behind the desk and stared at him curiously. Harry was forcibly reminded of Professor Trelawney.
"Can I help you, young sir?"
"I'm - I'm looking for a Magically Expandable Notebook?"
"Ah, you want one of those new Maexans, I presume."
"Yes."
"You're in luck. I've a few left. If you could just wait a minute..."
The old man bustled back into the door he had appeared from. Harry took another look around, and this time spotted the large, faded orange rug on the floor. His gaze travelling further, he spotted a huge fireplace. In fact, it was so big, he wondered how he had missed it. Surrounding it were three black couches.
He heard footsteps approaching and the man came back, wheeling a tall metal trolley with a cardboard box on it. He lifted out three notebooks. Each appeared to be about forty pages thick. They were smaller than sketchpad paper but bigger than an excercise book. The first was a medium shade of brown, with ripples of copper and gold where the light hit it. Harry thought immediately of Hermione's hair, and knew which one he was getting. He looked at the second; it was a deep, rich red with fancy gold trimming that seemed entirely too pompous. Harry smiled slightly at that.
The third was black. Not matt black. Not even jet black. It was completely void of colour, but imagination caught the tails of light playing across it and turned them into angels, winged creatures... or of demons, and eerie flames.
Harry picked up the gold-brown one, and opened it. It did not change, but it became obvious that the book did not hold forty pages. More like five hundred. Harry nodded his approval, but his eyes strayed to the black one.
"I'll take this one," he said, hefting the brown volume.
"Excellent choice, young sir. It's funny, really, but I can't seem to get rid of that black one. I think it's because it's a little bit eerie. People seem to think it's jinxed. Ah, well..."
llllllllll
As Harry walked from the bookshop he checked his mental list. Hermione: check, Ron... what could he get Ron? And, as always in life, his mind drifted back to his world.
He had been right, in a way, when he thought that people were focused on their own existence... he just never noticed when he was, as well.
llllllllll
Harry had got just about everything; his last present had been for Ginny: an ornamental dragonfly with jade wings that flapped when you said its name.
The snow was swirling and he estimated he had another hour until Dumbledore got really pissed off at him.
Ducking his head, he stepped into a mildly populated tea-shop and rubbed his forehead, trying to appear tired. He was, in fact, trying to hide his scar.
Seating himself at a table, a waitress appeared and took his order. She paid him no attention, and Harry paid her none in return.
He stared out of the window; he had landed himself a small table in the corner of the shop, right next to the glass.
Harry rubbed his face tiredly, for real this time, and stared at the swirling flakes. It was about five o' clock, and already getting dark.
Still... no worries. The café was warm, pleasant and friendly. Voldemort wouldn't try anything so near the castle, surely...
Harry felt a twinge of unease, but it was nothing like the stab of certainty he felt when Voldemort was about to strike.
Harry took another sip of his drink, and glanced around the café properly for the first time.
The walls were painted a warm and comfortable orange. The tables were a light polished wood, as was the floor and the counter. The windows were tall sheets of glass, smooth and unmarred - Harry assumed they were magically protected.
The light was pleasantly dimmed, and was cast by lamps on the walls, in the shape of half-moons (assuming that a half moon had only the upper half missing). The walls were quite low, and the ceiling was oak-beamed.
Harry hadn't caught the name of the café on the way in, but it was painted above the counter, on the wall: The Lull Spirit
Someone had evidently taken pains with this. The wall was lush with painted plant life and waterfalls, high mountains and low green valleys. The text itself was in a curling, peaceful script that flowed and became part of the background. Harry eyed it appreciatively; it was work well done and something the café ought to be proud of.
Harry grinned into his hot chocolate as he drained the contents of the cup. Paying for it and leaving a tip, he headed back towards the castle.
He entered the Great Hall as quietly as he could and snuck up the stairs. He was sure Dumbledore knew he was back, and managed to make it to the dungeons as silently as possibly using a couple of hidden routes, even though it meant it took him longer to get to the dungeons themselves.
He entered the main room and brushed his hair back. Snape was nowhere to be seen. Good; him being around would probably complicate things just a little bit. That was similar to saying that a hurricane was 'a bit of a light breeze'.
He walked across the rug, and entered his bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could.
espergirl04: Sweet. Interesting take on it... er... you have me worried, now. You have no idea how close Snape came to killing Harry and in a little while, the roles will be reversed... watch this space...
ShadowedHand: I am (I cry bitter tears of loss) nearing the end of the fiction on my computer at home... I've a little way to go yet, but I can see the end. And it's not going to be what you expect, I can tell you.
Bekqua: 'Dramatic and Angsty'... well, dramatic is right... and I loooooove reviews no matter the length. Please keep 'em coming!
starinthedark11: you have to love that chair. I;'s my favourite invention.
Severus' Wife: Hello. I hope you're not too swamped over with work... I have exams coming up so I can totally sympathise.
emilym.47: Hey! Thanks so much! I'm glad you can understand my Harry.
Dark Phoenix In Flight: Oo. Long name. Thanks for reviewing!
Shada Bay: Thanks! I don't think that the Marauders' era will ever fade until Lupin is dead (God forbid). Pettigrew gave up his right as a Marauder, the slimy, stinking...
Shadowface: Yay!
leggylover03: Snape? Love? Snigger... how ironic.
J Black: 'J Black'? Is this a reference to the great Jack Black of Tenacious D and many movies? Or are you the real deal? Anyway, thanking you very muching! P.s: I am looking for someone to co-write the next chappie (if there is one) of When Shrinks and Hogwarts Collide. Any good at funystuff?
Mrs. Tom Riddle: Please tell me you are not attracted to Tom Riddle... nevermind. I do not intend to turn Snape sappy. I intend to have him panic, suffer and have some stress he doesn't need... but not make him sappy. He is my favourite character, and I owe it to him.
A. Person: I love you in a totally non-gay way!!! I mean, totally. No kidding.
Please, everyone accept my apologies for not updating like, forever. My computer... access to the internet... time... exams... etc. I love you all. Trust me on this. Don't leave me!