This chapter is basically just that one trip to Diagon Alley in canon. It was longer (and had more povs) but I am trying not to just spill everything at once. And also keep my chapters to a reasonable length. Up to you to decide who exactly in this chapter qualifies as a sycophant.
For those of you paying attention you can pretty much identify the exact moment towards the end of this chapter that Emma figures out that the Dursleys are abusive and decides that something needs to be done about it.
In this chapter (and also at the end of the last one actually) there's some conversation in Welsh. Rather than faffing about with hovertext or linked translations, I'm simply putting any relevant speech in bold when it's from the pov of a character that understands it and make it clear that there is some conversation taking place that the pov character can't understand when the perspective is from someone who doesn't. So assume anything in speech marks that's written in bold in this chapter is said in Welsh.
Going forward I'll continue doing this any time there's a conversation between two characters in a language other than English and attempt to make it clear in text which language they are speaking.
Parts of this chapter pull fairly heavily on chapter 4 of the book and the Chamber of Secrets film, whereas other parts kind of chuck bits of canon out of the window because they bothered me or because they don't fit in with what I want/need to happen. Some parts of canon have been yeeted offscreen and may or may not come up later.
Trigger Warning: references to Harry's canonically abusive treatment by the Dursleys in the section starting '13:01'. Minor references to canon-typical Death Eater behaviour in sections containing Lucius Malfoy.
19th August 10:10 – Borgin & Burkes, Knockturn Alley
Draco looked around curiously – he'd never been allowed in Knockturn Alley before – his mother had forbidden him from setting foot in it. But it was okay – he had permission; he was with his father.
The alley was very narrow – he'd nearly been bumped into three times even though the crowds were too small to really be able to claim the name. It was dark in the alley and only dimly lit – perhaps the inhabitants liked it better that way – Theo had told him once that vampires lived in Knockturn Alley, but Draco was fairly certain that he'd been winding him up. A shop to his left was advertising nasty-looking shrunken heads, and a little further down was a window display with a labelled array of colourful poisonous candles – although what anyone could possibly want with those he didn't know. Unless you were Madam Marina Zabini perhaps – poisonous candles sounded like something she would enjoy owning. A distant clicking sound had him peering further down the alley still, and he saw a large cage that held either very large spiders or very small Acromantula. Draco shuddered – he wasn't sure which of those would be worse. Acromantula ate people but large spiders were very creepy and there was no Dobby or Mipsy here to get rid of them if he asked. Not to mention what the scowling witch poking something red and dripping through the bars would do to someone that tried to use magic on her merchandise.
"Draco!" his father said, the hand he had on his shoulder squeezing slightly, "We're here."
'Here' was a grimy looking shop across from the shrunken head window display, that looked nearly twice as large as its neighbours with two, slightly dirty, lattice glass windows on one side of the door, and a larger window with a gold 'Borgin & Burkes' written across it in a loopy curling font on the other. The door itself was wooden and unassuming, with a semi-circular lattice window above it.
Draco saw something move through the window out of the corner of his eye and tried to lean over to look through one of the panes, but his father used the grip on his shoulder to steer him through the door before he could.
A clanging sound echoed through the shop and Draco glanced up to see a fist sized bronze bell hanging in mid-air and swinging back and forth on an invisible string as several clangs echoed through the shop.
His father stepped past him, casting a lazy look around, before crossing to the counter and ringing the bell by the till.
There was a pause, and Draco took advantage and took his own look around and found several interesting-looking things, like a shrunken hand, a glass eye that appeared to be staring at him, a bloody looking pack of cards, and theatre masks that radiated hostility and appeared to be leering at him from where they hung on the walls; he moved to pick up the glass eye, but before he could touch it, his father said, "Touch nothing, Draco."
Draco resisted the urge to snatch his hand back and instead turned to look at his father in disbelief, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."
In fact, his father had promised him that he would buy Draco an object of his choice, provided he did not tell his mother what his father was doing with his morning, which Draco thought was a little stupid, given his mother's penchant for knowing everything. Besides, she normally let father get away with things she disagreed with as long as he wasn't stupid about it, so there was no reason to hide whatever it was he was doing in this grotty shop.
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," his father said, drumming his fingers on the counter.
This was news to Draco, who wasn't even on the House Team to be able to make use of a racing broom.
"What's the use of that if I'm not on the House Team?" he said, somewhat sulkily. He wanted to be the Slytherin Seeker badly but knew that with Higgs going into his sixth year his best chance would be to try and make reserve so that he could take his place in a couple of years when he finished school. Theoretically he could try out for Chaser because Flint made a point to rotate out the Chasers playing in a match so that both the primary and reserve players could play, and hopefully throw off the opposing team with new dynamics, so if Draco made reserve, then he was practically guaranteed to play in at least one match a year. And Draco could probably manage it too – Aunt Edda was always telling him that he had a talent for Chasing. But Draco wanted to be a Seeker.
He scowled and bent down to examine a shelf of skulls – glaring at them like they would blink and look away if he stared hard enough.
"Well perhaps if – ah, Mr Borgin," Draco's father quickly cut himself off as the less distinguished of the shop owners appeared behind the counter.
Draco concealed his slight sneer at the man's appearance – slicking his greasy hair back like it made him look smarter and wearing the most oily smile – by moving to look at the bell jar covering some kind of stuffed bird whose eyes seemed to follow him. There was no label, but Draco fancied that it was somehow still alive.
He kept an ear on his father's conversation as he moved on to the next display.
"Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," Mr Borgin said, with a distinct slimy, suck-up tone to his voice, "Delighted – and young Master Malfoy, too – charmed. How may I be of assistance?"
That was something that Draco would like to know – his father had avoided the question every time Draco had tried to ask him – something he had only noticed after the fact.
Mr Borgin continued speaking, unaware of Draco's annoyed thoughts, "I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced-"
"I'm not buying today, Mr Borgin, but selling." Draco's father interrupted him, and Draco froze in front of a display of opaque glass vials with stoppers in the shape of various human organs if he remembered his mother's basic anatomy lessons correctly. Selling? Was Draco's mother aware that his father was selling family possessions or was he doing so without consulting her?
"Selling?" Mr Borgin sounded rather dismayed at the prospect and Draco suppressed his amusement, still worried about whether or not his mother knew and whether she would be upset with Draco if she found out that he knew.
"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," Draco's father said, taking a roll of parchment out of his pocket, Draco surreptitiously stared at it from the corner of his eye, pretending to move on and examine a coil of rope – although he had no idea why the shop would be selling rope of all things – still listening avidly, "I have a few – ah – items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…"
What items? Draco's mind raced as Mr Borgin adjusted his pince-nez and began reading the list. It seemed to be a fairly long list. Draco moved on to stare at a ghostly ship in a grimy glass bottle as his thoughts tumbled over themselves and he started to feel anxious. What can father possibly be trying to get rid of? Why is he trying to get rid of them? Draco knew that there were a few family heirlooms of dubious nature that probably wouldn't be looked at kindly by the Ministry – but every pureblood family had a few of those and the Ministry let them be as long as they didn't use them for anything of an illegal nature. Has father been hiding illegal objects in the Manor? Does mother know?
Draco's spiral of increasing anxiety was interrupted by Mr Borgin, and he quickly moved on so that he wasn't loitering.
"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?" Mr Borgin said, in that slimy tone of voice that was so clearly sucking up to Draco's father rather than any actual honest respect.
"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumours about a new Muggle Protection Act – no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it – and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear-"
Draco felt himself grow cold at the implications of what his father was saying. His insult to the Weasleys was nothing new – he knew what his father thought of the family even though his mother had reminded him just last week that they were an old and powerful magical family, and – unlike practically every other family in existence – had never produced a squib, and as such they were deserving of at least the bare minimum of respect afforded to any family with a heritage seat on the Wizengamot – whether they were decried as blood-traitors or not. His mother liked to remind him that the definition of what a blood traitor was shifted every few generations and he shouldn't hang too heavily on it. After all, pure blood was pure blood, regardless of personal feelings surrounding the individuals. But the implications of his father saying the Ministry was meddling was terrifying. Because either the Ministry was starting a crusade against the old families which could very easily turn nasty, or his father was hiding something very illegal in the Manor that he didn't want anyone to know about. Draco wasn't sure which of those scenarios was more worrying.
"I understand, sir, of course," Mr Borgin reassured his father that of course he was siding with him on this, "Let me see…"
In order to try and derail the conversation and get his mind off the horrifying idea that his father might not be the upstanding citizen he presented himself as, Draco pointed at the first object in reach and said loudly, "Can I have that?"
"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" Mr Borgin abandoned his father and the list and scurried over to Draco, who belatedly realised that he was pointing at an ugly withered hand, "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder!" Draco tilted his head in interest, ugly it might be – but that sounded useful, especially if the girls were going to insist on more midnight escapades like they had last year, "Best friend to thieves and plunderers!" Mr Borgin turned to Draco's father while Draco re-examined the hand in a new light, "Your son has fine taste, sir."
"I hope," Draco's father said icily, "My son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin."
Draco immediately straightened and turned towards his father, familiar enough with that tone of voice to know that that wasn't the end of it.
Mr Borgin rushed to reassure his customer whilst Draco regarded his father warily, hoping that this wouldn't go too badly, "No offence, sir, no offence meant-"
"Though if his school marks don't pick up," Draco's father continued, as though Mr Borgin hadn't spoken, and if possible, his voice was colder still, "That may indeed be all he is fit for."
Draco resisted the urge to shrink under the criticism and instead somehow found the bravery to object, "My marks aren't that bad! I'm the second best in our entire year, and Hermione Granger only beat me by about twelve marks in total!"
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no magical family beat you in every exam," his father snapped at him.
Draco bit his tongue to resist the urge to retort that he'd actually beaten her in potions, charms, and astronomy, and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Granger, except her irritating tendency to enable Potter and Weasley's worst qualities and the way she would sometimes try to lecture him and Emma on subjects they were already intimately familiar with on account of growing up in the magical world.
He grit his teeth as Mr Borgin decided to chime in with his suck-up, slimy, greasy attitude, "It's the same all over. Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere-"
"Not with me," Draco's father said, nostrils flaring in a way that suggested he was coming close to the end of his temper.
"No, sir, nor with me, sir," Mr Borgin bowed deeply to Draco's father, and Draco resisted the urge to scoff. He'd be grovelling next. What kind of wizard had so little dignity? The mudbl- muggleborns in his year had more spine than Mr Borgin!
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," Draco's father said rather shortly, "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today."
Draco moved on to another glass case, this one containing an assortment of rings and earrings decorated with a variety of jewels. What business did his father have elsewhere? His mother had said that they were in Diagon Alley today so that they could buy Draco's school things. The only reason that they were coming today rather than last weekend was because his father had absolutely insisted that he wanted to come along, and he'd been busy the last few days. Although what he had been doing, Draco didn't know. Is mum aware of this business that father has?
He kept quiet, thoughts racing as he kept moving along the rows of objects, barely paying any attention to what he was looking at whilst his father haggled with Mr Borgin at the counter. He knew that his father was wrong about Granger. But he wouldn't listen! And of course, it was increasingly obvious that he couldn't introduce his parents to Emma. His mother would at least be polite because she was Draco's friend, but if his father found out about her views on blood purity and muggles then he would probably try to forbid Draco from being friends with her – and Draco could not let that happen.
He frowned at a magnificent opal necklace out on display. It wasn't covered but a card propped up against it read: Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed – Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date. That wasn't at all ominous. He noticed that it neglected to mention how many wixen lives it had claimed – if it was in Borgin & Burkes then it was a good bet that the number was at least one. It was kind of irresponsible to just leave it out where someone could easily touch it if they weren't being careful or if they couldn't read English. It was like the shop owners were asking for someone to touch it. But that was ridiculous – if it killed someone then the Aurors would get involved and there were definitely illegal objects for sale here – the human bones at least could not possibly be legal – so why would the shop owners risk an investigation being opened?
He turned away from the rather creepy looking necklace and came face-to-door with a large black cabinet whose door was slightly ajar. He cocked his head in interest – unlike the vast majority of other things in the shop, it wasn't labelled, and it also wasn't closed properly…
Draco stepped forward to grab the handle, but before he could touch it, his father interrupted, "Done," he said from where he was still standing imperiously at the counter, "Come, Draco!"
Draco turned away, mentally grumbling, whilst ensuring that his discontent was not visible on his face. He was so going to be complaining to his mother about this.
"Good day to you, Mr Borgin, I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods." His father said, guiding Draco to the door.
Tomorrow? Thursdays were the day that his mother's circle of pureblood ladies had their morning tea together and she'd probably be gone most of the day. That's convenient if father doesn't want mum to find out about this. Draco resolved to complain about how his father had ignored him and wouldn't let him buy anything as soon as possible. He couldn't lie to his mother.
. . .
10:42 – Diagon Alley
Megan Jones ignored her cousins bickering behind her as her Wncwl Dai struggled to separate them and instead obediently followed her Anti Ffion, who was making sure to hold on to Angharad so that she didn't get lost.
"Anything you need that's not on your list?" Anti Ffion asked her, "Bronwen needs a full set of equipment, so we'll be getting the books last, but your Mam didn't tell me whether you needed anything else – potions ingredients? Or stationary perhaps?"
Megan thought for a moment, "Can I get a notebook?" she asked, "I really struggled with everything being in English last year, and I nearly failed the year because of it. I want to ask a couple of people if they could help me with it – and having a separate notebook just for English practice would really help with that."
Anti Ffion nodded almost before she'd finished talking, "Of course – we can have a look in Scribbulus's when we go to stock up on parchment."
Megan bit her lip, "Actually, Anti Ffion, I heard that there was a shop in Marjinny Alley that sold muggle-style notebooks that would point out errors in what you've written. I know it's a bit expensive, but I brought my pocket money and Mam said if there's something I want to buy that's a bit more expensive than what I can afford then she'll pay you back and I'll get less pocket money for a little while."
Anti Ffion tilted her head to the side for a moment, "That sounds reasonable – your Wncwl Dai and I speak pretty good English by now," she added in a lower voice with a slight smirk and Megan suppressed a giggle at her oblique reference to the fact that Anti Ffion hadn't spoken Welsh at home with her parents and had instead first started to learn it from an old lady that lived in her village that had been an activist with Cymdeithas yr Iaith and told the best stories in the community. Her Anti Ffion hadn't become fluent in the language until she'd met Wncwl Dai in her fifth year at Hogwarts and he'd encouraged her. "We can help you find a notebook that will help with your English and check your written Welsh as well."
"Diolch, Anti," Megan said, "Where are we going to start?"
"Marjinny Alley has good basic school supplies as well," Anti Ffion said thoughtfully, "And even though the apothecary down there is hardly the best, I've heard good things about the shop that sells specialised astronomy equipment, and apparently there's a pretty good garden centre down there too. Dai, my love!" she called back over her shoulder, "We're going to start in Marjinny Alley – they've got good stationary stuff – we can work our way back up both alleys to Flourish and Blotts."
Wncwl Dai had apparently finally managed to separate Huw and Bronwen, although precisely what they'd been arguing about Megan didn't know and didn't particularly care about, and quickly caught up with his wife and nieces, "That sounds good to me, if it starts to get late or we run into any problems we can split up and one of us can take Bronwen to get her wand while the other herds the rest of the children through the rest of the shopping."
"We can meet back up at Gringotts before we go home if we split up," Anti Ffion said, "Now let's go!"
. . .
10:56 – Gringotts
"-a match for Lucius Malfoy?" someone said indignantly, and Neville looked up in time to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione entering the main hall of Gringotts with several Weasleys that Neville recognised at least in passing and three more that he hadn't seen before but that were very clearly Ron's parents and the little sister that he sometimes complained about and sometimes complained about missing.
The man that was presumably Mr Weasley got distracted by a muggle couple standing nervously by the counter, and Neville took advantage of the distraction to grab the attention of his housemates, "Hermione! Ron! Harry!"
"Neville!" Hermione said, beaming, running over to him and flinging her arms around him, "How've you been? Did you get my last letter? You look-"
Hermione's rapid-fire questions were interrupted by his Gran clearing her throat and Neville pre-emptively winced.
"And you are?" she asked imperiously.
"…Hermione Granger, ma'am." Hermione said, more meekly than Neville had ever heard her talk.
"She's the really smart friend I was telling you about, Gran," he said hurriedly, "And this is Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter," he added, gesturing to them both as they came within grabbing distance.
His Gran looked down her nose at them before sighing, "I suppose you'd like to spend time with them now that they're here?" she said without really asking.
"Yes please, Gran, if that's ok."
She hmphed, "I don't see why not. You two," she said to Hermione and Ron sharply, "Where are your parents?"
Ron pointed out where his parents were still talking to Hermione's.
"I see, I'll talk to them about whether you can tag along with them for a couple of hours, Neville, but I expect you to meet me at the Leaky Cauldron by no later than two o'clock if they say yes. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Gran." Neville said, ducking his head, "Thank you." He added when she didn't move.
She nodded and swept off towards the Weasleys and Grangers.
"Wow." Ron said, "I thought you were exaggerating, but you really weren't."
Neville shrugged, "That's just Gran."
. . .
11:44 – Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour
"-and of course Arthur – being Arthur, said-"
"Morgana! Mordred! Kara!" Niamh called across the street, before weaving her way through the crowds and making her way over to where they were sitting.
"-not that." Morgana said, before turning to Niamh and waving.
Gwen hummed, sticking another spoonful of Raspberry Vanilla and Green Tea ice cream into her mouth. "I love Arthur, really I do, but sometimes the man can be so thick and the rate at which he sticks his foot in his mouth without Merlin there to remove it is unbelievable."
"Well if even his wife thinks so…" Kara drawled, licking the last of her mixed fruits ice cream off her spoon.
"Ugh, stop it, all of you." Mordred complained, "Cut him some slack. Its hard being a teenager."
"Hear, hear." Said Niamh, dropping into the last chair at the table. "I can't wait to be done with puberty." She made to grab the last of Morgana's lemon and blackberry ice cream, before she noticed Gwen. "Hello." She said cautiously.
Gwen suppressed her amusement and smiled at the other girl – being very familiar with her from Morgana and Mordred's stories. "Hello," she said kindly, "You must be Niamh – I'm Gwen. I'm Morgana's best and oldest friend. Been putting up with her for literal lifetimes."
Niamh nodded, before her eyes widened and Gwen could see the pieces clicking into place and the younger girl putting together that she had once been Queen Guinevere of Camelot.
"Niamh!" A pale woman with brown hair and the same eyes as the girl in question came up behind her, "Don't just run off like that!"
"Sorry, Mum." Niamh muttered, before perking up, "This is Morgana, Mordred, Kara, and Gwen." She said, pointing to each of them in turn, "Everyone, this is my mum, Elaine."
"Oh, yes, I've heard a lot about most of you, although I'm afraid not all of you." She said, looking at Gwen out of the corner of her eye as she smiled at the rest of the table.
Gwen rolled up the purple sleeves of her robes slightly, smiling at Niamh's mother, "Oh, I didn't go to Hogwarts, Ms Rowan, I'm just here because Morgana and I have been best friends since we were little."
"I see… of course."
Niamh rolled her eyes, "Can I do my shop with them? Mordred and Kara need their books too and I know that you wanted to go to Wiseacre's and that one publisher. And you can get loads done if you're not just following me around." Niamh beamed up at her mother, pouting slightly, and Gwen marvelled at how her mother hesitated, before crumbling to her daughter's will.
"Fine. But you're to stay in Diagon Alley the whole time – no detours to Knockturn or Marjinny or any other side alley. And I don't want you going into muggle London – understood."
"Yes, Mum. I promise." Niamh said solemnly.
"Good, here's some money for your books – and also for ice cream or sweets," Elaine said, smiling at the mostly finished collection of dishes on the table, "And I want to see you back at the Leaky Cauldron by one-thirty so that we can get some lunch – okay?"
"Okay." Niamh said, tucking the purse into her pocket and smiling at her mum, "I will."
Elaine kissed her daughter on the head, "Have fun, I love you, see you later."
"I love you too, bye, Mum." Niamh said waving at her, and Elaine laughed and took the hint to re-join the crowds bustling through Diagon Alley.
. . .
12:19 – Diagon Alley
Draco walked out of Slug & Jiggers, ignoring the cold shoulder his mother was giving his father, only to almost literally bump into Emma, who was walking backwards and chattering away in a language that was distinctly not English.
"Em!" A tall, pretty girl with a solid build, a round face, and hair just slightly more brown that it was blonde, maybe about twenty or so, and presumably who Emma had been talking to, cried out. She said something in a scolding tone in what sounded like the same language that Emma had been talking earlier, before turning to Draco, "I'm so sorry about my cousin, she should have been looking where she was going. Are you ok?" her voice had the same slightly rolling accent as Emma's, and at her words, Emma let out a sound of annoyance before turning to Draco and lighting up when she realised it was him.
"Draco!" before Draco could decide how to respond, the Gryffindor girl flung herself at him and he stumbled, nearly falling over trying to catch her. "How have you been? Did you have a good summer? Are you buying your schoolbooks today too? Oh! Did you hear that Harry's staying with Ron now and about Neville's uncle?" Emma started bombarding him with questions, not even pausing for breath, "My aunt's been really busy all summer and has been to the Ministry or meeting with people a bunch. Also, Uncle Caleb has a new person on his apprenticeship program and she's really nice! Bit oblivious though. Oh! Have you met my cousin? This is my cousin, Aislinn."
"Em!" The same girl as before said, adding something in that not-English language and sounding exasperated. She turned to Draco, "You must be the famous Draco Malfoy, I've heard quite a lot about you. I'm Aislinn, please forgive Em, she's just excited to see you again."
"No, I know. She was a bit like this after the Winter Hols too." He said, prying Emma off him with some difficulty, "I'm Draco, like you already guessed," he added. He didn't say that she was rather more normal than he had been expecting, given that the only things that he knew about Emma's family that weren't based on rumours were that she had been raised by her aunt who made a habit of travelling and ending up in sticky situations and that she had a cousin that invented explosives and for some reason thought that it was a good idea to give those explosives to Emma when she asked.
His mother cleared her throat behind him, "Draco, dear, who's your friend?"
Emma perked up and before he could stop her, she bounded up to his mother and beamed at her, "Hello! You must be Draco's mother, Mrs Malfoy – he complained about missing you a lot and said that you know everything. I'm Emma Ambrosius! It's really nice to meet you."
"Hello, Miss Ambrosius, I've heard a lot about you too – Draco speaks very highly of you. This is my husband, Lucius, and please, call me Narcissa."
"Really? Thanks!" Draco suppressed a groan as Emma started chattering at his mother, sure that any second now she'd say something to offend her.
Emma's cousin – Aislinn, he remembered – laughed slightly and stuck her hands in the pockets of the leather jacket she was wearing over her red patterned robes, clearly waiting for the younger girl to take a breath. Draco could do nothing but watch nervously as his mother's smile grew wider and his father's eyebrow crawled up his forehead, his disbelieving thoughts practically written on his face to anyone that knew him well.
Emma paused for breath, and before she could continue Aislinn stepped forward and interrupted her with a smoothness that spoke of long practice, "Mrs Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, it's very nice to meet you – I'm Emma's maternal cousin, and sadly responsible for her today. Aislinn Belova," she said, removing her hands from her pockets and inclining her head in greeting, "I truly wasn't expecting to have the opportunity to meet you."
Draco frowned. I thought the Ambrosius line was matrilineal and passed the name down through the female line? Then he registered her words and put them together with 'Emma thinks blood purity politics are stupid' and got 'Her cousin is probably not a pureblood and doesn't care for my family's politics but doesn't want to appear rude so she's being as truthful as possible without ever saying anything to indicate that she wanted to meet anyone at all related to the Malfoys'.
"Belova?" his father asked sharply, "I don't recognise that name."
Aislinn laughed lightly, "You were expecting Ambrosius?" Emma subtly moved away from Draco's mother and closer to her cousin, whilst Aislinn continued without bothering to wait for an answer, "While it's true that our family is predominantly matrilineal, that's only unanimously applied to the main line – us side branches tend to have different surnames for a variety of reasons, and of course, the situation is only complicated by the fact that my brother and I aren't actually blood-siblings and were both adopted back into the main line anyway."
"Really?" said Draco's mother politely – quicker to recover than his father, thankfully, "I had no idea – admittedly I know relatively little about the Ambrosius family – but it's always wonderful to learn new things, and I can't say I don't find the topic interesting."
"Do I need to worry about that conversation?" Draco asked Emma in a low voice, moving closer to her.
"Nah! Ash's good about manners and she knows how to talk to purebloods that believe in the same, uh, politics, as your parents." Emma said, completely disregarding the fact that despite her reassuring words she was watching her cousin interact with his mother like a hawk.
"Right." Draco said slowly, before shooting a glance at where his father was in earshot and swiftly deciding to change the subject, "How's your Uncle? You mentioned he had a new apprentice?"
Emma didn't waste a moment before latching on to the topic in glee, possibly having noted exactly what he was trying to do, but equally likely just wanting to talk about her summer.
Without really discussing it, the group began to head to Flourish & Blotts, and Draco was startled out of the story that Emma was telling him about a 'Sunny' (who was either a cat or some kind of bird, he wasn't really sure, and it was equally possible that they were just an incredibly odd person) by two older boys about her cousin's age accosting the group.
"Belova! What're you up to? Are you even supposed to be here?"
"Aislinn, hey! How are you doing?"
Aislinn, distracted from the conversation that she was having with his mother, looked around and lit up, "Hey, babes!" she all but abandoned Draco's mother to hug the shorter boy, before dragging the taller boy down to smack a kiss on his cheek. "I had no idea you two would be in Diagon today! I thought you were job-hunting?"
Draco dared to sneak a glance at his parents to see his mother looking rather shocked at the exuberant display and his father looking as appalled as he'd ever seen him in public. Emma, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear about the whole thing and Draco mentally groaned and resigned himself to a lecture when he got home.
After a brief conversation, the two boys were introduced as Aislinn's former co-prefect Diego Caplan, and their friend Jae Kim, who – surprise, surprise – turned out to have been a Gryffindor of the Weasley Twins' ilk. Caplan apologised for interrupting, ignoring his friend who was whispering something to Aislinn, and the two decided to join them in going to Flourish & Blotts. It turned out that the three of them had a friend that worked there and was on shift today.
Of course, all of Draco's mental complaints and half-formed comments flew out of his head when he spotted the crowd outside the shop.
"Oh, damn!" Aislinn groaned in what sounded like self-recrimination, "Audrey mentioned there was a thing at the shop today and it would be really busy, and I completely forgot!"
"A thing?" Draco's father asked sardonically, raising an eyebrow at her choice of words.
His disdain seemed to fly right over her head as Aislinn glanced over at him, before moving to push through the crowd, "Yeah, some sort of book signing with that peacock Lockhart. Ugh!"
"Not a fan, I take it?" Draco's mother asked, the slight twitch of her mouth giving away the fact that she was apparently amused by the whole thing.
Aislinn shot her a deadpan stare, "Not in the least, and it's disappointing to discover that I am in fact in the minority when it comes to that." She gestured emphatically towards the crowds they were trying to get through.
"Oi! Dragon-boy!" a familiar voice shouted, and Draco gave into the urge to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment before turning to see the one-and-only Niamh Rowan shoving her way through the crowd towards him, followed by the usual suspects and another girl in purple robes that he didn't recognise.
At the same time he caught a vaguely familiar looking girl that he could have sworn was a Hufflepuff in their year, quietly saying hello to Emma, before rapidly speaking in that same language from earlier – the one that he hadn't recognised.
It was chaos for a moment in the middle of the crowd whilst everyone exchanged greetings and introductions and two adults and several other children who resembled the girl that was definitely the same Hufflepuff that Emma sometimes sat with at breakfast also came out of the crowd and needed to be introduced, and they too seemed to prefer to speak in the other language.
The Hufflepuff girl turned out to be called Megan Jones and Draco honestly thought she was entirely forgettable, but she and Emma seemed to be reasonably close, although that may just be the language barrier. Aislinn was happily speaking to her family in the same language, who had been introduced as Megan's aunt, uncle, cousins and younger sister; Draco's mother was talking to Pendragon about her apparent internship in the Ministry, and he recognised genuine interest in her manner; and the girl that Draco hadn't recognised (who had been introduced by Pendragon as "my best friend Gwen") was making stilted, if polite, conversation with his father, and he really wasn't sure who looked more uncomfortable with the situation.
He tried to subtly push them into Flourish & Blotts and the wink that Aislinn shot him in a break in her conversation told him that she at least had noticed. There was another delay as Pendragon apparently recognised her as the former Hufflepuff prefect that she'd done something with, but after a couple of minutes the whole group seemed to get the hint and started to make their way into the shop properly, with Dowling loudly complaining about the crowds the whole time to get them to move.
. . .
12:28 – Flourish & Blotts
Merlin managed to get through the crowd and most of the queue with Draco, Megan, and Niamh in tow just in time to see Harry trying to squirm out of the hold of the one and only Gilderoy Lockhart, who threw an arm over his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.
Merlin valiantly resisted the urge to just hex him on principle. What kind of utter arse forced a twelve-year-old they didn't know into a situation that they were clearly uncomfortable with? The fraud was completely ignoring him as well, he just wanted to look good.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the over-pampered peacock said loudly, waving for quiet until the noise died down (far too quickly for Merlin's liking), "What an extraordinary moment this is!"
Merlin mentally snorted. Extraordinary. Right.
"The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!"
"Oh please, no!" Niamh said behind her, and Merlin wondered what she knew that gave her an insight into what was coming next. She didn't have to look to know that Draco had pulled a face, and Megan was hovering nervously on her other side, as far away from Draco as she could get, no matter that Merlin had reassured her at least a dozen times that he was basically harmless.
"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I will be happy to present to him now, free of charge-" Lockhart was apparently still going and the crowd applauded him, meanwhile Merlin could see just how thrilled Harry was by the whole situation, "-he had no idea," Lockhart gave Harry a shake that made his glasses slip dangerously low and Merlin resisted the urge to turn his hair into seaweed, "That he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The crowd burst into claps and cheers and Merlin and her friends stood in stunned silence for a moment before Draco, in a hollow, deadpan voice, said: "You have got to be kidding me. Him?"
Niamh groaned and leaned her face into Draco's conveniently located shoulder – something that she probably wouldn't be able to do for much longer given how much she'd grown since June, "Kill me now. I will not survive a year under Lockhart."
Megan whimpered slightly, before she said, in a quiet, slightly desperate voice, "Maybe he won't be that bad? Surely this is just something he's doing for the crowd?"
Merlin finally managed to break out of her surprise, "I take it back," she said in disgust, "He's going to be worse than Quirrell."
Niamh snorted, "Ok, I wouldn't go that far. Quirrell had a supposed-to-be-dead Dark Lord on the back of his head and tried to kill at least one student. He might be awful, but I doubt he's going to be worse. I mean that's a terribly low bar. He'd have trip over it to fail."
Megan let out a quiet whine and Merlin squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I'll help you with him as well as with your English." She promised the other girl, before turning to the other two, "Are you sure about that?" she asked, before pointedly turning to look at where the peacock was smiling and waving at everyone he came into eye contact with, and women and men of all ages were swooning – there really was no accounting for taste.
Draco groaned and Niamh grimaced. "I can be optimistic?" she offered.
"I think optimistic will be the least of what we need." Megan said slowly, in her thick accent, "He will be difficult in lessons. I know it."
Niamh turned to speak to Megan, but Merlin dropped her hand, abandoning them both, and went after Draco sharpish since he was headed straight towards Harry with a sneer and even though she knew he probably wouldn't mean anything by it, after that Harry was unlikely to take anything he had to say well.
Sure enough, Merlin caught up in time to see Harry start to bristle in response to Draco's acerbic "Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
Merlin sighed, Draco was apparently in a slightly worse mood than she'd thought if he was going straight for the famous card rather than mocking him for trying to run away from Lockhart, or calling him clumsy, or taunting him for his dress sense.
"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" a small, freckled, red-headed girl said, glaring at Draco. This must be Ron's sister.
Merlin stepped forward to diffuse the situation, since bad mood or not, she was almost certain that Draco didn't mean it cruelly, not after the end of last term, but before she could, Draco had a drawling retort ready.
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!"
Ron's sister – Merlin was fairly sure her name was Ginny – went scarlet and as if summoned by the mere thought of him, Ron appeared out of the crowd with Neville and Hermione in tow, clutching stacks of books, the majority of which appeared to be written by Lockhart, and slightly red-faced from the exertion of fighting their way through the crowds that were still flocking to the stupid peacock.
"Oh. It's you." Ron said, not sounding particularly pleased, but at least not hostile.
Merlin took advantage of the gap in the conversation to try and diffuse the situation, "Draco's joking – mostly – he doesn't mean anything by it," she told Ginny Weasley, "It's just how he and Harry are."
"Um, no." Draco immediately contradicted her, "That's not true at all."
"Oh, please," Niamh said, appearing out of the crowd with Megan, who immediately came to stand by Merlin, "You say that like any of us are going to believe you after you went white as a sheet back in June when you saw how badly Harry was injured."
Draco lifted his chin and attempted (badly) to look down his nose at his taller housemate, "Maybe he's just fun to mock, and I was worried I'd have to find somebody else to make fun of."
Ginny was looking back and forth in confusion whilst Merlin greeted her housemates and Megan shyly said 'hello'.
Ron snorted at the stare down still going on between the two Slytherins and Harry just sighed and turned to Ginny, "Thank you for defending me, but Draco's mostly okay and not nearly as bad as he sometimes comes across. He just thinks Gryffindors are ridiculous."
Ginny went redder, if that was at all possible, and looked down and mumbled something, and from the look of glee on Draco's face, he too had noticed her crush on Harry.
Ron frowned at them and immediately dropped his books into the cauldron she was carrying, blocking her from view from a moment, and Merlin suppressed the urge to look at Draco and giggle.
"Ron!" a thin, balding man with red hair and spectacles, who could be none other than the famous Arthur Weasley struggled over to them, followed closely by the twins, who for once were not wearing mischievous smirks that promised inevitable troublemaking, "What are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley."
It was with an impending sense of foreboding that Merlin turned towards Draco, and there, standing behind him, with a hand on his shoulder, sneering in a way that promised nothing good would come from this encounter, was Lucius Malfoy.
Merlin hoped that Aislinn was still near Draco's mother and sent a mental plea for help in her direction – under no illusions that Draco's father would listen to the twelve-year-old friend of his son.
"Lucius," Mr Weasley said, nodding at the other coldly.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr Malfoy said, and Merlin's blood ran cold – if he'd discovered what she and Amelia were doing then things could go very bad, very quickly – but before she could do more than have a moment of panic, he continued, and Merlin could feel her pulse calming, "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?"
Draco's father reached into the cauldron that Ginny was carrying – that looked like it had two or three sets of schoolbooks in it – and extracted an old, battered, and well-used copy of what looked like A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. It must have belonged to Ginny since everyone else present already had a copy if they needed one and Merlin resisted the urge to snatch it back out of his hand. Megan grabbed her wrist, and Merlin twisted her arm so that they were holding hands instead, and squeezed in reassurance, before moving slightly in front of the timid girl.
"Obviously not," Mr Malfoy drawled, still mocking the Weasley family, and unlike his son, it was not meant good-naturedly. "Dear me, what's the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
Mr Weasley flushed darker than either of his children had and Merlin had to bite her tongue to stop herself from retorting and burning the bridge that her friendship with Draco had created – interfering now would most likely only make things more difficult for him at home.
"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Mr Weasley said darkly, not taking his eyes off the other.
"Clearly," said Mr Malfoy, who's pale eyes had strayed towards two adults standing nearby and watching apprehensively – from the family resemblance, Merlin assumed they were probably Hermione's parents, which meant they were non-magical – something that Mr Malfoy had obviously picked up on – she shifted her weight slightly, prepared to interfere and damn the consequences if Mr Malfoy actually had the audacity to do something so publicly. "The company you keep, Weasley…" Mr Malfoy said, with an almost mocking smile, "And I thought your family could sink no lower-"
Anything else that he was going to say was cut off when Mr Weasley threw himself at him, sending Ginny's cauldron flying with a thud of metal and knocking Mr Malfoy backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; one of the twins yelled "Get him, Dad!"; a shriek of "No, Arthur, no!" came from Mrs Weasley, who had apparently been drawn by the noise; Narcissa was also apparently close enough to see the chaos and said "Lucius!" in a tone of voice that was closer to a shout than Merlin had thought her capable of; the crowd stampeded as far away from the fistfight as they could, only managing to add to the chaos as yet more shelves got knocked over; and finally, Aislinn appeared out of the crowd, along with her friends, Morgana, Gwen, Mordred, and Kara. The latter three stayed back, Gwen clearly drawing on her memories of Camelot to try and calm the crowd back into some semblance of order and Mordred sending subtle shield spells at the edges of the crowd to try and corral them away from causing any more damage. Morgana and Aislinn, on the other hand, immediately waded into the conflict, gently pushing the agitated children and wives of the two men in question out of the way before more forcibly attempting to intervene in the fight. In less than a minute and with help from Diego, Jae, and a little magic, they'd managed to pull the two men apart, each being restrained by Diego and Jae, respectively. Mr Weasley had a cut lip, and Mr Malfoy looked like he'd caught quite a nasty hit to the eye by something with a sharp corner.
"If you gentlemen are quite done," a vaguely familiar witch in shop assistant's robes said, and the boys both released the men and stepped back, Aislinn and Morgana both still slightly between the two like they thought eye-contact would reignite the fight.
Lucius Malfoy straightened, fiddled with his robes for a moment like he was trying to get the contamination of Mr Weasley off of them and thrust the old transfiguration book that he was still holding at Ginny, eyes glittering with ill-concealed malice, "Here, girl – take your book – it's the best your father can give you-"
Ginny caught it badly and fumbled for a moment, Mr Malfoy beckoned to Draco, like he was ready to sweep out of the shop, but Narcissa moved in between them and shot her husband a disdainful, piercing stare.
"Gentlemen, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the shop assistant said firmly, nodding at Aislinn and the boys slightly in thanks, "Please also leave any merchandise you may be carrying behind."
Mrs Weasley looked fair to bristling with rage at her husband's behaviour and Mrs Malfoy was clearly not much happier. The men both straightened their robes, and without glancing at each other, both left the shop, in varying degrees of anger. Their wives exchanged a brief, silent look of commiseration over their husband's stupidity, before checking on their respective charges and then turning to the assistant.
"I'm terribly sorry about all of this," Mrs Malfoy said to the beleaguered shop assistant, "Please allow me to pay for the damages, and also for the Weasley party's books."
"Mrs Malfoy," Mrs Weasley said, "I couldn't possibly accept-"
"No, no I insist." Mrs Malfoy said firmly. "I have absolutely no doubt that Lucius is the one that caused that fight, and he really should know better than to behave that way in public. Besides, it's not as though our family cannot afford the expense, and perhaps it will teach him to be less careless and reckless with his actions in future."
Mrs Weasley paused for a moment, looked down briefly, and sighed, "Thank you very much for your generosity, Mrs Malfoy."
The assistant looked back and forth between the two matriarchs for a moment, unsure of how to react, but Aislinn caught her eye and tipped her head slightly.
"If you're sure, Mrs Malfoy," The shop assistant said, flicking her wand at the books still scattered over the floor, and causing them to organise themselves into neater piles.
"I am." She said, smiling placidly.
Merlin caught Draco's eye and he widened his eyes at her and then rolled them slightly. She had to suppress a smile and couldn't help but think that both men would be on the receiving ends of their wives' displeasure later.
. . .
13:01
Harry waited nervously with the others for Mrs Malfoy to pay for their books – he still wasn't entirely sure how that had happened – and kept half an ear on the conversation that Malfoy – the youngest Malfoy – was having with Hermione. Something to do with books and accuracy if he was hearing right.
"Hi, Harry." Emma said from next to him, and he nearly jumped out of skin, not having noticed her approach at all. She had a girl in tow that he vaguely recognised from lessons – her name was Jensen or Jones or Johnson or something like that – and thought might be one of her Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw friends.
"Hello, Emma. You scared me."
"Sorry. But I wasn't sneaking."
"I know. I was just-" Harry looked around for inspiration for an explanation that wasn't eavesdropping and suspiciously staring at Malfoy's mother, saw Lockhart coming vaguely their way again and seized the idea "-hoping that Lockhart won't be as bad as he seems."
Emma laughed and the girl next to her – Johnson maybe? – giggled nervously, "I doubt it. But on the plus side at least you won't be subjected to that alone," she gestured subtly but emphatically in Lockhart's general direction, and Harry grimaced.
Before he could form a reply, the tall, solid girl that had intervened in the fight alongside the former Head Girl came up to them and said something that sounded like gibberish to Emma.
Emma responded back in the same manner and Harry belatedly realised they were speaking in another language, her friend – Jones? – added something with a smile, before ducking her head at the response.
"What language is that?" Niamh asked from behind him, and Harry had to suppress the urge to spook like a startled horse.
"Welsh." The three girls replied in tandem, before looking at each other and giggling.
Niamh came to stand beside him and looked back and forth between the three with interest as they resumed their conversation – all rolling r's, and guttural sounds, and soft sh's – and by the time Mrs Malfoy and Mrs Weasley came back over to where they were all standing, the girls had seemed to agree on something.
"Hwyl!" Emma's friend – he was pretty sure her name wasn't Jensen, but he wasn't sure – said waving slightly to the other two before turning and shyly waving at the rest of the group and disappearing into the crowd.
Emma caught him looking after her in confusion, "Megan had to go and find her aunt and uncle – we'll see her on the train," she explained, which didn't actually help with the confusion at all, but before he could say so, he was distracted by the twins coming over and sweeping them all up to leave.
Niamh took a step out of their path, "I've got to go," she said, apologetically, "I told my Mum I'd be back at the Leaky by one-thirty and I'm rapidly running out of time. I'll see you in September!" she added, darting forwards and giving them all quick hugs, "And thank you so much for buying my books, Mrs Malfoy, you really didn't have to."
"Nonsense." Mrs Malfoy said, a polite smile on her face, "Besides, Draco has had nothing but good things to say about you, Miss Rowan."
Niamh smiled at her broadly, before turning to smirk at Draco, "Really?"
"Shut up. I thought you were leaving?" he said, avoiding looking at her.
"Draco!" Mrs Malfoy scolded lowly.
"Love you too, Dragon-boy! Bye, everyone!" Niamh called and darted off before any of them could respond.
Mrs Malfoy chuckled before speaking quietly to Mrs Weasley, who immediately began to chivvy everyone out of the shop – Emma, the tall girl, Malfoy, and his mother, included.
Fred and George, never ones to let opportunity pass them by, immediately took advantage of the sudden gap in conversation and began regaling everyone with the tale of their daring rescue of Harry.
He stared at the ground and felt his face grow hot, thankful that his darker skin meant that he didn't blush obviously the way that Ron did.
"They put bars on your window and locked you in?" Emma said to him lowly, with a strange sort of emphasis under her disbelief, "How did you eat? Or wash? Or go to the toilet?"
Harry pulled his sleeves down over his hands nervously, "I mean they let me out once a day. And they had a cat-flap that they put food through…" he trailed off when Emma's expression closed over, "What?" he asked.
She shot him a smile that he was positive was fake, "Nothing."
Mrs Malfoy and Mrs Weasley told them all to stay put in opposite tones that somehow had the exact same level of motherly command in them and split in opposite directions to where their husbands were standing. Poor Mr and Mrs Granger were left looking a bit lost surrounded by magical teenagers. The tall girl that had come along with Emma took pity on them and engaged them in conversation as Malfoy edged over and asked, "So is this typical of muggles then? Because Granger's parents don't seem like they lock her up. They kind of remind me of Pansy's parents, honestly. Just, you know, not magical."
"What? No!" Hermione said, from the other side of Malfoy, the twins having finished their story and having apparently decided to poke at Percy with Ginny giggling like a mad thing behind them.
Neville and Ron both shot her identical dubious looks.
"Look, you get nice muggles and awful muggles and everything in between. Harry's relatives are apparently just the awful sort." Emma said, thankfully having dropped the smile, "Hang on, is this why you never answered any of my letters?"
"No?" Harry said, confused. Which caused both Hermione and Neville to look at him in offense and made him realise that he'd never told them about Dobby. He glanced at where the tall girl was still talking to the Grangers and checked that neither the Weasley nor the Malfoy parents were on their way back.
"Aislinn will keep Hermione's parents occupied," Emma told him quietly, having seen where he was looking, "And both Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy are currently in the company of their very angry wives, so we'll hear them if they come back."
Harry nodded, "Alright then." He wet his lips, aware that this would probably sound a bit crazy but then again, they'd heard worse from him, "It was a house-elf-"
"A house-elf stole your post?" Draco said scornfully.
Emma elbowed him, "Let him finish!"
Harry cleared his throat and nodded a thank you, "A house-elf turned up in my room on my birthday and told me that I must not go back to Hogwarts because he'd heard of a plot to make terrible things happen there this year. I tried to question him about it but all he would say was that it wasn't Volde- You-Know-Who," he corrected, "I said there was no way I could stay, and he made a comment about my friends not writing to me. Which is how I figured out that he'd been stopping my letters. He said that he thought that if I thought my friends had forgotten me I might not want to go back. He kept insisting I had to say I wouldn't go back and when I refused, he used magic to get me in trouble with the Dursleys – it ruined Uncle Vernon's business deal and Aunt Petunia's violet pudding – that's how I ended up with bars on my window – I got a letter with a warning from the Ministry and everything! And after that the Dursleys knew I wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school. It meant that they had nothing to worry about if they locked me up."
Emma's face had darkened when he mentioned the Dursleys, but the others were more focused on Dobby.
"He said there was a plot?" Hermione frowned, "How did he find out?"
"How did he get you in trouble with the Ministry?" Neville asked, "House-elf magic isn't tracked the same way underage magic is – the Ministry shouldn't have been able to tell that anything had happened."
"He stole your letters?" Malfoy said incredulously, "And he thought that would work?"
"We reckon he lied about the plot and someone just sent him to stop Harry from going back to Hogwarts – like a joke or something." Ron told them, and Harry nodded.
Emma shook her head, "If he did magic that got detected – that's way past a joke – if someone sent him then it's basically illegal and they could get in serious trouble – no family old and rich enough to have a house-elf is going to be stupid enough to risk that."
"Emma's right." Malfoy said, "There's no way someone did this as a joke – not least because the main suspects are the Slytherins in our year, and basically all of them with enough clout to have a house-elf were at mine on the 31st."
"Besides, no wix our age is going to use You-Know-Who as a reason." Neville said, "I mean basically no one even knows the details of what happened back in June – Gran knows one of the Aurors that ended up on the scene and she told her that the whole thing's completely classified and no one who wasn't there knows more than that there was an attempted theft – which means as far as everyone else is concerned, You-Know-Who's still dead."
"They have a point." Hermione said, apologetically, "But I want to know how he found out about this plot."
"I would like to know how he managed to leave his family, warn Harry, and tell him all this." Draco said, "A house-elf that goes against his family like that sounds mad! It never happens! I mean, yeah, you get weirdos – my dad's got a weird house-elf – but to outright go against his family? You have to understand how crazy that sounds to someone raised around them!"
They had to shut up after that, because the Malfoys were coming back, but Malfoy's look promised that the discussion wasn't over.
Mr and Mrs Weasley waited until the Malfoys had made their quick goodbyes and apologies and left before coming back over, but by that point Emma and the tall girl – Aislinn – had said they'd take Neville back to meet his Gran at the Leaky, and the group was subdued at the reminder of the fight, so they all said their goodbyes after they made it back to The Leaky Cauldron. Harry joined the Weasleys at the fireplace to travel back to The Burrow using Floo powder. It was definitely not his favourite way to travel, and Harry took off his glasses and put them in his pocket where they'd be safe for the journey back before he grabbed a handful of powder.
. . .
In case you were wondering, no, Narcissa did not know precisely where her husband was taking her son, and she was not happy when she found out. Knockturn Alley is not an appropriate place to take a twelve year old.
"Diolch" means thank you in Welsh and "Anti" and "Wncwl" are the Welsh words for aunt and uncle respectively. "Hwyl" doesn't technically translate to "bye" in the same way that "schwmae" doesn't technically mean "hello" but that's how it's being used here.
Yes, I did in fact write the whole chapter before I realised that nearly everyone in Emma and Draco's group assumed that Gwen was magical when they met her outside the bookshop because she was introduced wearing robes and as Morgana's best friend. Which means that Lucius Malfoy had a perfectly civil conversation with a muggle without knowing it.
The Audrey that works in Flourish & Blotts mentioned is in fact my version of Audrey Weasley as I wrote her in my Percy/Audrey fic "On Rules" but the only things you really need to know about her are that she's a muggleborn Ravenclaw from Charlie's year and is particularly good friends with Charlie and Tulip (from the HPHM game) and is currently dating the latter. In this fic she's also fairly close with Aislinn for "I need Aislinn to have close friends from multiple Houses and it's easier to use characters I already have background for than to invent completely new ones" reasons.
How often and how heavily can I lean into the fact that Draco has a house elf "just like" Dobby (name not mentioned) and gosh he had no idea that there were other house-elves out there that are just as weird before it becomes ridiculous that a) Harry has never mentioned this house-elf's name to Draco and b) no one has figured out that the house-elf stalking Harry and Draco's dad's weird house elf, are in fact the same house-elf
Don't forget that I'm also on tumblr under the same name and always willing to chat.