"Diagon Alley." Stan Shunpike fluffed his Daily Prophet, giving a lazy salute to Harry.
The royal purple bus skidded to a halt, Harry a bit disoriented from such a ride as he stepped down.
"Thanks." He got off the Knight Bus, turning to see the psychotic piece of machinery blast off.
Turning, he faced the rickety iron bolted door that led into the pub all British wizards knew as The Leaky Cauldron. A junction for those tired and those in meeting. Where wizards and witches could encounter one another to greet like old friends, discussing and gossiping over a small brandy or a full course meal.
Somehow, it all felt aloof to Harry as he walked past a Siamese warlock. Passing through the crowds of witches, wizards and strange beings, he made it to the stairwell when a huge blob of maroon and fire red crashed into him. Tumbling down the stairs, Harry was looking straight into Ron's face.
"Oh, geez, sorry, Harry." Standing up quickly and dusting himself off, he helped Harry to his feet.
"I dunno what happened to me when suddenly-" Identical laughter could be heard from behind Ron.
Wheeling around, he glowered at his twin brothers, Fred and George.
"Invisible Trip Wire." Commented George.
"Got it at Junko's Jokeshop last year." Fred chimed in.
"Bloody hell, use it somewhere where someone's not likely to break their neck!" Ron sat bitterly at them as he rubbed the back of his own neck.
Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the whole ordeal. Smiling, he patted Ron on the shoulder.
"Thanks for inviting me; the Dursleys' place was making me suffocate."
"Better than to hear you were prisoner again." Both chuckled and walked out into Diagon Alley, Ron talking about Percy's adventures in Norway.
Harry's eyes gazed from shop to shop, paying attention half the time to Ron as he stared into the shop windows. He needed new robes; the ones he had were a bit tight in the nooks. Through the dense crowds of bustling shoppers, some clad in deep pine green cloaks wandered the streets. Bodyguards, sent from the Ministry itself to watch over Harry. He noticed this but kept quiet as they walked on into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
The short, plump lady was dressed from mauve to cornflower now sincethe last time he saw her.
"Blimey, has it been six years since I measured your robes?" He nodded sheepishly and smiled.
"Yeah, it has been." She chortled as she told harry to stand on the stool.
"Get you all fixed up in a jiffy, I just need to finish a new customer."
He clambered onto the stool, not realizing how tall he had gotten in six years as a soft voice spoke beside him.
"Ohayo." He jumped and nearly fell off his stool.
Looking to his right, he stared into deep, garnet eyes. Dark hazel hair halloed around such gems, a soft smile on her face.
"Lo siento, did I scare you?" He blinked; he recognized her accent as American.
"W-Was that Japanese and Spanish you just spoke?" She nodded.
"Here." She bent down, her body curving gracefully as she offered a hand to him.
He politely refused but struggled to get back up due to the bedspread he was wearing at the moment. She chuckled softly, the mere trace of her voice wavering like a lark's morning cry. Harry wondered if she was a Veela at all.
She helped him back onto his stool, bowing in apology.
"I apologize for startling you; I was merely interested by your name and face." Ron rolled his eyes.
"Here is comes." He muttered, harry looking back to the girl.
"You would happen to be Harry Potter, no doubt. Many boys from my last school boasted they were better but I paid them no mind." She bowed once more, placing Harry in a state of bewilderment how she could assume body languages of both genders so fluidly, "It is quite the honor to meet you in person, though, it is understood a certain girl in your common house said many rumors of you were present at your school. In a way, I envy you." Malkin was pinning her robes up, the wrinkles in the cloth defining slender hips and waist.
"There you go, dearie; 16 Sickles, if you please." She pulled out a leather pouch, an emblem of a flaming dragon's head sewn onto the flap as she removed the silver coins.
Hopping down from the stool in a flutter of her coffee hazel hair, she turned on her foot and smiled.
"Tah." Accepting her robes, she walked out, the door closing gently behind her.
Harry continued to stare as Ron held a sour look.
"Oh, come off it, Harry. She's one of those American girls who always flirts with men."
"Somehow, Ron…" Harry continued to glance out the window as though trying to look for her, "I don't think she is."
----
Throughout the day, they shopped for their school items. And throughout the day, Harry couldn't stop looking for the girl. She was like a shapeshifter, the backs of witches looked like her but when they turned around, their faces were far from hers. Ron slowly grew irked from Harry's unconscious desperation and finally snapped him back to reality when they stood outside Flourish and Blotts.
"Come on, Harry. I've been dying to get the new edition of Chudley Cannons' Biographies." Nodding in contentment, he followed.
Into Ron's worst nightmare.
"Thank you. Per chance, are there any books on seals?"
"Yes, over in the left section of the shop, miss."
"Arigatou gozaimasu." She placed her hands together, bowing slightly to the shopkeeper as she suddenly bumped into Harry.
Books fell out of her satchel, some shrieking in protest while others rattled and flapped.
"Oh geez, I'm so sorry-" Harry looked up and lost his tongue.
It was the girl he had met in Madam Malkin's over an hour ago. She was busy stroking the spine of a cranky book, soothing it as it relaxed. She slipped it back into her satchel, reaching for a blue one as Harry's hand touched the same. Both exploded in apologies; Ron merely rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Gathering the rest of her books, he helped her to her feet as she thanked him, a feather quill rolled out, Harry reaching down to grab it. He picked it up slowly, studying it briefly.
It was a pair of long, wavy black and red feathers, the grouping in the lines unlike any bird he had seen. Both were bound tightly together in a gold casing as the edge for writing was carved to look like a fang.
"Thank you for helping me."
He assured no thanks was needed, but couldn't help as the burgundy plague spread out and attacked his cheeks. She chuckled softly, a hand covering her mouth in an eloquent manner before she strode to the door. She placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning into his ear as she walked out.
"If I hadn't known better, I'd say you were following me." Harry's cheeks could match his aunt's rose garden.
She walked out, a sly smirk on her face before vanishing into the crowd again.
"Harry?" He blinked.
"Harry." He looked down and jumped, seeing Hermione burst from no where.
"Oh, Hermione!" She smiled and chuckled, happy to see Harry again.
Reunited, the trio headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, where Hermione and Ron's parents awaited them.
----
Their rooms were beside each other; 10, 11 and 12. Ron and Harry were next to each other and had found a convenient hole in the wall to talk through. Ron's mother was on the prowl to catch children out of bed (the last time she wasn't, there was a hard time explaining the fizzy goo in Fred and George's room).
"Sixth year already."
"Yeah, I know. One more year then into the wizarding world itself."
Ron heard Harry go quiet.
"You all right, Harry?"
The shuffling of feet could be heard and the creaking of a doorknob. Quickly, harry flew back into bed, pretending to be asleep. Mrs. Weasley poked her head in, and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, closed the door and went back to bed. Harry gingerly stepped out and back to the hole.
"I dunno, Ron. I can't get that American teenager out of my head." He heard a ragged sigh come from the other side.
"What is it with you, Harry? She's just a girl, worse, she's American."
"So?"
"Americans have a reputation for being the flirty type."
"And you don't think we have British prostitutes on Muggle streets?"
He heard Ron trying to shut himself up from the forceful chuckles.
"I just mean that they're dangerous, mate."
"Oh Ron, please, what's the difference between an American and a Brit? Honestly."
The clock chimed midnight.
"Right. I'm off. See you on the train, Ron."
"You too, Harry. And forget about the girl. What are the chances we're gonna see her again anyway?"