The next couple of weeks at the Burrow were absolutely wonderful.
Mrs. Weasley soon forgave Ron and the twins—and I, to a certain extent—for our little stunt to rescue Harry. Seeing as there were no long-lasting repercussions, she was back to her normal cheery self in no time.
Our activities were a mixture of some chores and a lot of Quidditch. While Percy didn't play, the remainder of the Weasley children did, and somehow Ginny and I managed to convince him to be our referee. Harry was certainly doing his best to tell me all about the teamwork strategies Oliver Wood preferred, hoping that it would give me a leg up during the tryouts. It was a lot to remember at first, but thanks to my intensive Quidditch background, I was able to catch on quickly.
Ginny and I continued to talk about Hogwarts, and how some of the professors were. I warned her off the bat about Professors Snape and Binns, and to never slack off around Professor McGonagall—she actually began taking notes, she was so eager to learn all she could about Hogwarts.
Two and a half weeks after I had arrived at the Burrow, our Hogwarts letters came in: including mine and Harry's. We all eagerly tore them open to see what new supplies we needed… but what I saw made me purse my lips in confusion.
It was a list of Gilderoy Lockhart books.
"Ermm…" I started to say, but Fred seized my letter before I could finish my train of thought.
Outraged, he exclaimed, "You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too! The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan—bet it's a witch."
This last was said with a pointed look at his mother, who looked as if she was trying not to look at him in turn.
"That lot won't come cheap," sighed George. "Lockhart's books are expensive…"
"Well, we'll manage," replied Mrs. Weasley. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."
Harry grinned and looked in Ginny's direction. "Oh great, so you are starting Hogwarts this year!"
Despite all the time Ginny had spent around Harry by this point, she still flushed horribly when being addressed by him… and then she plopped her elbow in the butter dish.
Before anyone could say anything else, Blumiere swept into the room with a mighty hoot. He held out his little leg, which had a scroll attached to it. I pet my tiny owl on the head—he hooted again and leaned into my hand—before giving him a tiny slice of sausage and letting him fly wherever he wished.
I already knew that this letter was from Robbie:
Hey Belle, I'm glad to hear you and your friends have been enjoying your time at the Burrow. If I'm right, you've gotten your Hogwarts letters by now. Mind meeting me sometime next week to get your new supplies? I'd love to see you again before you head off for school. Let me know as soon as you can. Much love, Robbie.
"Looks like my brother wants to meet me for Diagon Alley shopping," I said aloud, a grin on my face. As nice as it was to hang with Harry and Ron for a third of the summer, I already missed my brother. "Anyone have a day in mind?"
"How about Wednesday?" offered Ron with a shrug. "Hermione's letter suggested that. I can write back to her real quick to confirm."
"Well that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then too," decreed Mrs. Weasley, a cheery smile on her face. Ron and I shared a nod as we wrote our individual letters—and that was that.
The next Wednesday came around quickly, and on that day, Mrs. Weasley woke us all up early. While Ron was less than pleased, Ginny and I were hardly bothered—I was ready to see Robbie again, and she was ecstatic to begin her Hogwarts shopping.
After a rushed breakfast of toast and honey, all the Weasleys gathered Harry and myself around their fireplace. Mrs. Weasley grabbed a ceramic pot from atop the mantle and held it out to Harry expectantly.
"Erm—what am I supposed to do?" my friend asked.
Ron gasped and slapped a hand to his forehead as he recalled, "He's never traveled by Floo Powder. Sorry, Harry, I forgot."
"Never?" asked Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
"I went on the Underground—"
But Harry didn't get any farther than that before Mr. Weasley began bombarding him with questions about the Muggles' railroad and their everyday lives.
Exasperated, Mrs. Weasley huffed, "Not now, Arthur. Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before…"
"He'll be all right, Mother," Percy pompously proclaimed. "Harry, watch me first."
Percy stepped forward and took a small pinch of the green glittering powder out of the flowerpot. When he threw it into the fire, it turned a violent shade of lime-green. He then stepped in the fire and shouted loud and clear: "Diagon Alley!"
The flames whooshed around him, swallowing his body and transporting him off. Once he was gone, I looked back to Harry for his reaction; he looked incredibly uncertain.
"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, nodding as Harry hesitantly reached into the pot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate!"
"The right what?" asked Harry. His eyes were still on the fireplace, which was back to normal.
"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly—"
"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," Mr. Weasley reassured, reaching for some Floo powder as well. He stepped into the fireplace and followed Percy's footsteps, whisking off for Diagon Alley after his son.
Mrs. Weasley sighed a little apprehensively and said, "You go on after Arthur. Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going…"
"Keep your elbows tucked in," Ron piped up.
"Yes, and keep your eyes shut," I added.
"Don't fidget," interrupted Ron, "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace—"
"But don't panic and get out too early, wait until you see Arthur or Percy," Mrs. Weasley finally concluded.
At the end of our list of advice, poor Harry looked quite overwhelmed. But clenching his jaw, he resolutely took a pinch of Floo powder and walked into the fireplace. As soon as he looked at all of us, however, that short burst of fortitude evaporated. Harry coughed, and announced, "D-Diagonalley."
The lime-green flames erupted from the fireplace and swept him off.
I exchanged looks with the Weasleys. Harry hadn't spoken very clearly… there was a distinct possibility that he wouldn't be in Diagon Alley like we hoped…
"Well Belle, dear, how about you next?" offered Mrs. Weasley, but I could see the sparkle of worry in her eyes.
Knowing that we would find him soon, I exhaled softly and took my own pinch of Floo powder. I stepped into the fireplace and threw the powder down—but just as I did so, I heard the twins shout, "Oh, no!"
A repulsive smell hit the air—not as disgusting as a troll, but still quite revolting. Fred and George were attempting to scoop up all their non-activated Dungbombs. It looked like one of their bags had just broken, and they had all spilled out over the floor, one of them going off—
"Diagonalley!" was all I could manage to wheeze, the smell was so horrible.
As soon as the flames consumed me, I knew I wasn't going to Diagon Alley. The same thing that happened to Harry happened to me; if I was lucky, at the end of the whirling journey, I'd be able to find him.
I was unceremoniously deposited in a dark, dingy shop. The fireplace spat me out on my back, knocking the wind out of me with an, "OOF!" Groaning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes to rid myself of the soot only to look at my hands and see that they were dirty too.
"Bloody hell," I found myself muttering as I struggled to get up.
I looked around my surroundings; this was not a place anyone would want to be found in. There were rusty spiked instruments dangling from hooks. A disgusting rotted hand was cushioned on top of a pillow, holding a candle that was not lit—and it looked as if it was for sale. Next to it was something that looked like a glass eye. The whole place was dirty, and the chill that crept upon my back told me these objects were for dark purposes.
"And who are you?" sneered an oily voice.
My eyes went wide and I stumbled backward into what looked like an iron maiden—standing a few feet off to my left was a greasy looking man with an odd hunch to his back… and next to him was Draco Malfoy and his father.
Before I could even say anything, Draco stepped forward and exclaimed, "What are you doing here, Skylar?"
Mouth agape, I gestured helplessly to the fireplace. Rather worried with the situation I found myself in, I could only stammer, "Floo powder… Dungbomb—couldn't pronounce clearly…"
"You know this person, Draco?" asked his father, narrowing his eyes at me. He had long, pale-blond hair the same shade as his children's—I noticed Lizzie wasn't present—and the same grey eyes. He held a staff in his right hand; it had a silver serpent-head at the tip.
"This is Belle," Draco explained, looking confused as he approached me. "I believe I've told you about her."
"Multiple times…" his father responded, his gaze loosening slightly. He stared into my recently-dirtied face for a while before curtly saying, "Pleasure, Belle. I do believe your brother works in the Ministry?"
Uncertain why this was relevant, I hesitantly nodded and replied, "He's been in the Ministry for five years now."
"Very good, very good," remarked the elder Malfoy, leisurely leaning on his cane. "Well, Miss Skylar, I believe you should return to your brother. Draco."
Draco's father jerked his head in my direction. My frenemy blinked and suddenly realized that was his job. He waved his hand, gesturing me to follow.
As I followed Draco out of the shop, I looked around. I couldn't help but feel like Harry was here somewhere, perhaps hiding—out of the corner of my eye, I saw a slight shift of movement. Sure enough, Harry was following us, taking refuge in the shadows that the dark shop provided. He shot me a small nod and, knowing that he would be able to follow us back to the others, offered me a smile.
Draco held the door to the shop open for me. When we stepped outside, I couldn't help but cringe.
The awaiting alleyway was just as dim and chilling as the shop I'd exited from. Wizards with dark cloaks and masks roamed the street, and the faces I could see had dark gleams in their eyes that made me uncomfortable.
"Take my arm," Draco muttered out of the corner of his mouth. I shot him a look with a raised eyebrow—he sighed and added, "They won't bother you if they know you're with me."
Figuring that I'd rather walk arm-in-arm with Draco Malfoy than be interrogated by some shady stranger, I did as he asked. Satisfied, he began to walk forward.
For better or worse, Draco was right. I noticed a lot of people leering at me as we walked past; I couldn't help but worry about Harry, who didn't have Draco's protection right now. Every now and then I tried to glance back to see him, and only a few times was I able to lock eyes with him.
"How was your summer?"
The question was so sudden I was almost sure I had imagined it. My eyes flew back to Draco, who for once was actually looking at me.
"It was… fine," I answered, admittedly surprised that he would ask. "My brother and I had a lot of fun with flying and just relaxing. You?"
"Fine," he replied. "Lizzie's been playing a lot of pranks on me, though. Kind of annoying honestly."
I didn't know much about Elizabeth Malfoy, except for that she got on Fred and George's nerves often with the pranks she pulled. I couldn't help but laugh a little at Malfoy's response, though.
He exhaled through his nose; I wasn't sure if that was a huff of annoyance or a restrained chuckle. I wouldn't find out—he then asked, "You bringing a broom this year? I remember you're a fan of Quidditch."
"Trying out for the team, actually. I'm really excited."
"Really? Neat. Me too."
Although our conversation was a little awkward, it was still a nice distraction from our surroundings. Not to mention it made the three minute walk that much faster, and before I knew it, Draco had walked me back to Diagon Alley.
Noting that I was out of the sketchy place, I breathed a quick sigh of relief. Malfoy's lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile but felt like he shouldn't. I finally removed my arm from his and shrugged while looking at him.
"Guess I'll be seeing you later. Thanks for the help," I said, giving him half of a smile.
He nodded and replied, "Yeah. See you later, Skylar." And then he was off.
The moment that he went back to the sketchy place—a sign above its entrance read "Knockturn Alley"—Harry reappeared by my side, his glasses broken and slightly askew and soot on his face.
"Let's never do that again," he remarked simply, moving to rid himself of the soot that covered his face and robes.
I laughed at that and proceeded to help him. His hair was so thick it was hard to get all the soot out of it—he ended up shaking his head like a dog would after a bath, which only served to get the soot on me.
He shot me a cheesy grin seeing that, which only prompted me to punch him in the arm. Figuring that we had done as good of a job as we could have, we turned around only to see Mrs. Weasley hustling towards us, her arms extended and a relieved grin on her face. Behind her was Robbie, who was shaking his head amusedly.
"Oh, Harry, Belle—my dears—you could have been anywhere!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. She proceeded to swat what little soot remained off of our robes, a very motherly expression on her face.
"Malfoy was able to help me get out of… there," I replied, pointing in the direction of Knockturn Alley. "And Harry followed us."
"Damn good thing you were able to find a friend then," Robbie exclaimed. He gestured for Harry to give him his glasses, which my friend did so, and Robbie fixed then with a tap of his wand.
With a light chuckle, I responded, "I don't know if friend is the appropriate word honestly, but you're right."
Robbie wasted no time in greeting me with a tight hug. I couldn't help but laugh as he picked me up and spun me around once, the way that he did whenever I'd come home from school.
"You know I'm not going to be able to do that in a couple years, right? You're getting taller."
I made a mockingly pouty expression at him, which just made him snort. With that, we walked towards the other Weasleys—I noticed that Hermione and her parents were standing next to them too, waving wildly.
As soon as we made it over to them, Hermione threw her arms around me and exclaimed, "Belle, so good to see you! We're heading to Flourish and Blotts, are you coming with us?"
"Of course!" I replied, and then we were on our way to the bookshop.
Once there, I saw a sign that said something about Gilderoy Lockhart being at the store in person to sign copies of his own books. I raised an eyebrow at this notice, but Hermione squealed excitedly and hissed, "We can actually meet him! I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"
There was, however, a very long line of young and middle-age witches crowding around the store. At the very front was a wearied looking wizard declaring, "Calmly, please, ladies… Don't push, there… mind the books, now…"
We somehow managed to budge around all the people and get inside the store. Once there, we grabbed our necessary books and snaked through to where Mrs. Weasley was eagerly standing. I could've sworn she smoothed her hair as she said, "Oh, there you are, good. We'll be able to see him in a minute…"
"OW!"
Someone had shoved me into the side of a table—it was a short, squat man with a large camera. He was pushing his way through the crowd to get a good angle on Lockhart—as he did this, he trod on Ron's foot. He didn't seem very apologetic, however, as he exclaimed, "Out of the way, there, this is for the Daily Prophet."
"Big deal," muttered Ron as he massaged his foot.
Lockhart heard him and looked up. He saw Ron—his eyes fell upon me—and then he saw Harry.
He leapt up, almost knocking over the stack of books to his right. The crowd instantly grew silent as Lockhart yelled, "It can't be Harry Potter?!"
Before Harry could even move, Lockhart grabbed hold of his arm and hauled him up to the front. The cameras snapped wildly despite Harry's attempts to move back to my side; when the flashes finally died down, he sneakily tried to sidle away, but Lockhart threw an arm around Harry's shoulders to stop him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart announced cheekily, "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—he had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more. He and his schoolmates 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 Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Harry, appalled, found himself bombarded by a stack of Lockhart books. He was barely able to walk back towards us, they were so heavy. With a look of disgust, he dumped the texts into Ginny's cauldron and muttered, "Here, you have these—I'll buy my own—"
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?"
We turned to find Draco standing on a staircase above us, smirking with cold satisfaction and a glaze in his eyes.
"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" retorted Ginny, stepping in front of Harry. We were all surprised; she'd hardly even spoken in front of Harry before, but now she was defending him.
Draco looked gleefully from Ginny to Harry and cried, "Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!"
Ginny turned as red as her hair—a bit peeved that he was picking on my new friend, I crossed my arms and exclaimed, "Can't we wait until reaching Hogwarts to go at each other's throats again?"
Malfoy snorted, as if he found my suggestion amusing, as Ron and Hermione made their way over. Seeing who it was, Ron scoffed and muttered, "Oh, it's you. Bet you're surprised to see Harry here."
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," Draco retorted. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
Ron gaped furiously and dropped his books into Ginny's cauldron; she winced under the added weight. He started towards Draco, who looked perfectly at ease, but before anyone could intervene, we heard, "Ah, Mr. Malfoy."
Over popped Robbie, whose face had taken on his charming work smile. When I looked back in Draco's direction, I suddenly realized his father had materialized behind him.
Malfoy senior smiled thinly and lightly bowed his head. "Mr. Skylar. I don't recall the last time we've crossed paths at the Ministry. Has your office been… properly staffed with all these raids?"
"We seem to be faring well enough," replied Robbie, securing his tie. That was his nervous tick. It would seem Mr. Malfoy was either important or intimidating enough to make my brother anxious… or both. "And yourself?"
"Quite well, quite well. This is your little sister, yes?"
Robbie placed a hand on my shoulder, although his grip was tight as he answered, "Indeed! And these are your children? I've heard stories from Belle about her and Draco tackling Transfiguration together."
Mr. Malfoy chuckled and was about to answer, but then another voice exclaimed, "Ron! What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well… Arthur Weasley…"
"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said, as if the word had a revolting taste.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy said coolly, looking Mr. Weasley up and down. He glanced at the books in Ginny's cauldron—she was shaking from the effort to keep them aloft. "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?"
He reached into Ginny's cauldron and picked up a tattered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
Mr. Malfoy sneered. "Obviously not," he answered himself, throwing the book back into the cauldron. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of a wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
I liked Mr. Malfoy less and less—although his son was nice to me occasionally, Lucius Malfoy didn't seem nice to anybody.
Mr. Weasley's face turned as red as his children's—Fred and George arrived and glared at Lucius with hatred. But with a forced calmness, Mr. Weasley retorted, "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."
"Clearly," was the silky response. His eyes darted from Mr. Weasley to Ron, to me, to Hermione—and then to her parents, who were standing behind us. "The company you keep, Weasley," Malfoy whispered menacingly. "And I thought your family could sink no lower…"
Books flew in the air, a table was upended, and a few people yelped as they were pushed aside—utter chaos erupted in the bookshop as Mr. Weasley had finally had enough and thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy.
Draco watched coolly—Lizzie came up beside him during the fray. They both seemed amused by what was transpiring in front of them—Harry, Hermione, Robbie, and I were standing aghast, unsure of what to do, and Ron, Fred, and George were all shouting, "Get him, Dad!" while Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, was screaming, "No, Arthur, no!"
Finally, we heard a familiar gruff voice exclaim, "Break it up, there, gents—break it up."
Hagrid pulled apart Mr.'s Weasley and Malfoy, their glares ten times more malicious than before, if that was even possible. It was Mr. Malfoy who broke the silence by snapping, "Come, children—we have better things to do with our time."
The three of them whisked out of the shop and didn't look back.
"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," Hagrid said as the Malfoys retreated. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. Bad blood, that's what it is. Come on now, let's get outta here."
On the way out, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and I all took great care not to walk beside Mrs. Weasley; she was positively fuming.
"A fine example to set for your children… brawling in public, what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought…"
"He was pleased," exclaimed Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into the report—said it was all publicity."
The remainder of the shopping was fun; Robbie gestured me over to the Quidditch Supplies store and pointed out the new Nimbus 2001 model. My mouth dropped open; it was just as sleek and shiny as the Nimbus 2000, but jet black.
"That looks awesome," I exclaimed, leaning forward as close as I could without pressing my face to the glass.
Robbie stretched dramatically and announced, "Well, you know I just got a raise at the Ministry… if you do happen to make the Quidditch team, Viktor and I might send you a present."
"Get out," I laughed, shoving him with my shoulder. "You don't need to send me anything. I've got a great Cleansweap 8 at home."
My brother just wiggled his eyebrows, and then we moved on.
But there was something that was bothering me. His reaction to running into Lucius Malfoy was still on my mind—and unable to hold back the question, I asked, "Robbie, who is Mr. Malfoy really?"
Robbie sighed and looked at me sideways. He looked around, as if checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping, and then murmured, "Lucius Malfoy is one of the most influential people within the Ministry of Magic. He is wealthy and powerful enough to… convince… departments to accommodate him and assist in his work, not to mention he's often found at the Minister's side. He is not someone to cross—and seeing Mr. Weasley so blatantly do that only makes me respect him more."
"So all those times Draco said he'd tell his father about things that happen in Hogwarts…"
My brother coughed—it took me a moment to realize that sound was disguising a laugh.
"Lucius Malfoy is a school governor for Hogwarts, that is true, but there's little he can actually do. Dumbledore is still Headmaster; and far above Malfoy's influence. As long as he remains in charge, Lucius can't do much, despite his children's threats."
I nodded pensively, figuring that this information may or may not be useful to Harry and Ron and Hermione…
"Do me a favor though, Belle. Be very careful around him and his children. Lucius has taken down people he dislikes easily—and if this Draco wants to make your life miserable, he may be able to do so."
My throat felt tight. I had rather been hoping that perhaps Malfoy and I could have been friends at some point… but I simply nodded to comfort my brother.
With that settled, we moved to get the last of my things. We required an alembic for Potions and a new textbook for Transfiguration. Fortunately there wasn't much else, and we were able to leave the crowded Diagon Alley quickly.
When we got back into the Leaky Cauldron, we said our farewells to Hermione and her parents and that we'd meet them at King's Cross in a couple weeks. Then we took some more Floo Powder back to the Burrow—I couldn't say I liked that kind of travel anymore.
Hi guys, it's me again. :) So I'm going to be honest: I wasn't planning on updating this story anymore, but I still got the occasional notification that people were still following and interested in the story? So I'm going to try and keep updating it for you! In another spirit of honesty: this is probably my most self-indulgent fic that I've written ahaha, so I just want you guys to be aware of that.
I've been considering rewriting this in third person as well instead of first person, too. It's been an agonizing decision lol. I think I'm going to keep it in first person? But I might add a few scenes and rewrite certain parts in substitution. Idk. If you guys have anything you'd like to see or think would be a good idea, please let me know! I've been in a bit of hiatus with this project, but I've written so far ahead it shouldn't impact a renewed update schedule :D
Thanks for reading, you guys. I hope you have a good day! Please take care of yourselves as well!
