Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and orderly; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time she looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it said, "That top isn't doing you any favors, dear." The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever it felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What Harry found the most unusual about life at the Weasleys', however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: it was the fact that everybody there seemed to like her.
Mrs. Weasley seemed to be trying extra hard to make her feel better, feeding her fourth helpings at every meal, and fussing over her ever-tangled hair. Mr. Weasley liked to have Harry sit next to him so that he could bombard her with questions about life with muggles, asking her to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.
"Fascinating," he would say as Harry talked him through using a telephone. "Ingenious, really, how many ways muggles have found to get along without magic."
About a week after Harry had arrived at the Burrow, Hogwarts finally sent a letter. She and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. Ginny was too absorbed in a drawing to notice, but as soon as she did, she accidentally knocked her forgotten porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed to be very prone to knocking things over. She dove under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Following the leads of the others there, Harry pretended not to notice.
"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "The enchantments they use to address these are incredible -- can't wrap my head around them. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.
Harry couldn't help but smile at how her letter was addressed:
Ms. H. Potter
Chudley Cannons Themed Bedroom
The Burrow
Ottery St Catchpole
Devon
For a few minutes, there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told her to catch the Hogwarts Express from platform ten-and-a-half at King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of items required for the coming school year.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
Second-year students will require:
Official Hogwarts Uniform with House Crest
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
43 Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wandering with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
All books from year one
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
Fred, who had finished his own list peered over at Harry's.
"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan -- bet it's a witch."
At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive. . . ."
"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."
"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny.
"Er -- um -- yeah," Ginny stammered, but only Harry seemed interested. Just then, Ron's elder brother Percy walked in.
"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."
He sat down at the only remaining chair but nearly leaped out of it when what looked like a molting, grey feather duster slammed into the window.
"Errol!" said Ron, running over and taking what Harry realized was an owl when she noticed its breathing inside. "Finally," he said, extracting a letter from under its wing. "He's got Hermione's answer. I wrote her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it aloud:
"'Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,
I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get her out, Ron, because that would get Harry in trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is alright, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off.
I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course' -- How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation! -- 'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?
Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.'"
"Well that fits in nicely, we can go all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley starting to clear the table. "What are you all up to today?"
Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high.
They wouldn't be able to use real quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead, their plan was to throw apples for one another to catch. They also wanted to take turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outpaced by passing butterflies.
Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. Ginny didn't have her own broom, but she insisted on joining and was even willing to use Ron's if it meant they let her.
"She might leave her room more if she had her own broom," Fred said sadly, watching Ginny zip around on Harry's broom
"She's the best flyer here, but we don't have the galleons for another," George commented, as he tossed apples for her.
"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said Fred.
"Five sets of Lockhart books!" George exclaimed.
"And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything. . . ." Fred finished.
Harry didn't say anything. She felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that her family saved for her. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that she had money; she was fairly certain you couldn't use galleons, sickles, or knuts in muggle shops. She was certain that if there was a way to exchange galleons and pounds, she didn't know of it.
Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches, they pulled on their coats, and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today. . . . Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"
And she offered her the flowerpot.
Harry stared at them all watching her.
"W-what am I supposed to do?" she stammered.
"He's never traveled by floo powder," said Ron suddenly, then winced. "Sorry -- She's never --"
"Never?" said Mrs. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
"I went on the Underground --?"
"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly --"
"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before --"
"She'll be alright, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first."
He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.
With a roar, the fire turned an emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouting, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.
"If only we had a larger fireplace," Mr. Weasley sighed. "Then someone could go with you."
"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hands into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate. . . ."
"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.
"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, the Ministry really needs to make a more organized system, but as long as you've spoken clearly --"
"She'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to floo powder too.
"But dear, if she got lost, how would we ever explain to her aunt and uncle?"
"They wouldn't mind," Harry assured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that --"
"Well . . . all right . . . you go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, as you get in the fire, say where you're going."
"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.
"And don't let your eyes shut," Ginny added. "The soot stings, but --"
"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace."
"But don't panic and get out too early," Said Mrs. Wealsey. "Wait until you see Fred and George."
Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a bit of floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. She took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fore felt like a warm breeze -- she couldn't help but be reminded of the bluebell flames Hermione used many times her first year; she opened her mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.
"D-Dia-gon A-Alley," she coughed.
It felt as though she was being sucked down a giant drain. She seemed to be spinning very fast -- the roaring in her ears was deafening -- she tried to keep her eyes open, but the whirl of green flames made her feel sick -- something hard knocked her elbow and she tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning -- now it felt as though cold hands were slapping her face -- squinting through her glasses she saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond -- her bacon sandwiches were churning inside her -- she closed her eyes again, wishing it would stop, and then . . .
She fell, face forward, onto cold stone, and felt the bridge of her glasses snap.
Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, she gingerly got to her feet, holding her broken glasses up to her eyes. She was quite alone, but where she was, she had no idea. All she could tell was she was in what looked like a dimly lit wizard's shop -- but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.
A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.
The sooner she got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the ground, Harry made her way swiftly toward the door, but before she'd got halfway to it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass -- and one of them was the last person Harry wanted to meet when she was covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.
Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to her left; she shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.
The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale pointed face and identical cold, grey eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."
Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.
"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and badtempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He just has to be good too, stupid famous Potter . . . famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead . . ."
Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.
" . . . everyone thinks he's so smart, with his stupid hair, and stupid eyes -- A-and his scar and his broomstick -- "
"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that it is not -- proper -- to seem too obsessed with someone of the same gender, you wouldn't want to be mistaken for one of those nasty quee -- ah, Mr. Borgin."
A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted -- and young Master Malfoy, too -- charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and a very reasonably priced --"
"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.
"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.
"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few -- ah -- items at home that might embarrass me if the ministry were to call. . . ."
Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez glasses to his nose and looked down the list.
"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"
Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.
"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act -- no doubt that flea-bitten, muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it --"
Harry felt a hot surge of anger.
"-- and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear --"
"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see . . ."
"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend to thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."
"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant --"
"Though, if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for --"
"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "It's hard to focus with Potter around -- er -- he's just too easy to demean I can't resist. Not to mention the fact the teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger --"
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy
"Ha!" said Harry under her breath, pleased to see Draco looking both ashamed and angry; what else could that red face mean?
"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere --"
"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.
"No, sir, not with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today --"
They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to her hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed -- Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners. Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward -- he stretched out his hand for the handle --
"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come Draco --"
Harry whipped her forehead on her sleeve as Draco turned away.
"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."
The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.
"Good day to yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor. . . ."
Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as she could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.
Clutching her broken glasses to her face, Harry stared around. She had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one she'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching her from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, trying to her glasses on straight and hoping against hope she'd be able to find a way out of here.
An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told her she was in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help as Harry had never heard of such a place. Were those the same two wizards from before slowly approaching from either side? Trying to stay calm, she tried to plan a path of escape.
"Not lost are you, young lass?" one of the wizards said. At least she passed.
He might have been handsome if weren't for the dirt and grime that covered him from his thin hair to his ratty boots. Harry couldn't tell how much of a fight he'd pose if it came to it, he wore too many layers of torn faded clothes.
"We'd be happy to help if you gave us a little something in return," said the other wizard.
"HARRY!" cried a familiar voice, as the two men crumpled to the ground. "What d'yeh thnk yer doin' down here?"
Hagrid was whipping his massive hands clean after using them to knock out both of the men. Hagrid's beetle-black glared at the down forms over his great bristling beard.
"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief. "I was lost -- Floo powder --"
Hagrid seized Harry up into a hug far too tight for her, then almost dragged her out of the long twisting alleyway, into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance -- Gringotts Bank. "Yer a mess!" said Hagrid worriedly, brushing soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked her into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Yeh can' go wanderin' 'round Knockturn Alley, yeh hear? S'not a safe place teh be."
"I realized that," said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush her off again. "I told you, I was lost -- what were you doing down the, anyway?"
"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own, are yeh?"
"I'm staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," Harry explained. "I've got to go find them. . . ."
They set off together down the street.
"How come yeh never wrote back ter me?" said Hagrid as Harry jogged alongside him (she had to take three steps to every one step of his). Harry explained all about Dobby and his odd warning.
"Tha' elf did it all his own," Hagrid said. "Wizards can' make 'em mess with other wizards tha' way. It'd breach the magically binding contract with the Ministry."
"Oh, so the warnings true?"
"That'd be a different matter. We can't be sure --"
"Harry! Harry! Over here!"
Harry looked up and saw Hermione standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.
"What happened to your glasses?" She asked. "Hello, Hagrid -- Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again -- Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"
"As soon as I've found the Weasleys," said Harry.
"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.
Harry and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley
"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted, "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far. . . ." He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic -- she's coming now --"
"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.
"In the common room, first-year," Harry joked, as Hagrid grimly said "Knockturn Alley."
"Excellent!" said Fred and George, ignoring her joke.
"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.
"You don't want to be," Harry stated.
Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny trying to get out of the grasp of the other and run ahead.
"Oh, Harry -- oh, my dear -- you could have been anywhere --"
Gasping for breath, she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.
"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!"). "See you at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.
"By the way, Ron, your Mum's right," Harry said as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "The only good part of there was Malfoy getting berated by his father in Borgin and Burks.
"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.
"No, he was selling --"
"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucious Malfoy for something. . . ."
"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew --"
"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley indignantly, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.
"But you're muggles!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got the? Oh, you're changing muggle money. Molly look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.
"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.
The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weassleys' vault, but felt dreadful when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached her vault. She tried to block the contents from view as she hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag.
Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to Olivander's. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in Harry's pocket was clamoring to be spent, so she bought three large ice creams, which they licked and slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Canon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of lopsided scales and old cloaks covered in various stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power.
"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating. . . ."
"Go away," Percy snapped.
"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out. . . . He wants to be Minister of Magic . . ." Ron told the girls in an undertone as they left Percy to it.
An hour lantern they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows
GILDEROY Lockhart
Will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
Today 12:30 PM to 4:30 PM
"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying "Calmly, please, ladies. . . . Don't push, there . . . mind the books, now. . . ."
The three of them squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, and snuck up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute. . . ."
Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. Harry was sure two of them were actively competing against each other for the better smile. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; not a single golden wavy hair out of place.
A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.
"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet --"
"Bid deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.
Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron -- and then he saw Harry. She blushed as Lockhart stared at her. She supposed he was quite handsome.
Gilderoy continued signing books and smiling for photos as Harry got her books and struggled back through the crowd. She met Ginny waiting by the door, and let Ginny pull them all into her cauldron. Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley joined them too and all together they went a few shops down to Madam Malkins.
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was filled with mannequins that changed poses, and truthfully, robes for all occasions. Harry was surprised to learn of swim robes.
Madam Malkin came over to Ginny and Mrs. Weasley and asked, "Hogwarts, sweetie?" and guided them to the back of the shop.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were unsure of what to do. So Harry decided to wander and browse. It turned out that 'Casual Robes' were fairly common, and were quite similar to muggle clothing, just a few decades out of date, and the 'Dress Robes' were quite gorgeous, at least for women, which was all she was looking at.
"I can't were the boy's uniform, I'm not a boy." Came a voice from around the rack Harry was looking at.
"Well, I doubt you want the girl's uniform." an attendant said.
"Of course not, I'm not a girl either." said the voice Harry now recognized as Flix.
"Then the boy's uniform is what you'll wear?"
"Flix!" Harry shouted as she almost tackled them to the ground. "I've missed you! Sorry about not responding to your letters, it's a long story involving a house-elf and imminent doom."
"Excusing me, miss, but I was in the middle of helping this young man." the tall, slender aid said.
"Oh," Harry said. "I don't see a young man here though, just my friend, who has clearly stated they are a witcher."
Flix failed to suppress laughter.
"I'd be willing to help find this elusive boy, though, if you help me get my robes."
"Don't be ridiculous. Witchers are just a silly fad that was brought from the muggles. Same as those transes. Now, please miss, let me do my job."
"And if I told you --" Harry started.
"Don't," Flix whispered in her ear. "It'll just get us in trouble."
"Okay, Ma'am. I'll drop it," Harry sighed. "Still though, my friends, Ron and Hermione, and I might be a bit easier to help than Flix. Maybe you can think about how to help them while you help us."
"As you wish," huffed the woman.
Harry went back to where Ron and Hermione were waiting, the woman following behind her.
"I found help," Harry told them, interrupting a spat that seemed to be about the best way to find her. A realization struck Harry and she quickly turned to face the woman. "I'm sorry, I never asked your name."
"I'm Amelia Ledezma, here to help when Madam Malkin cannot."
"Don't wander off like that, Mum was worried sick last time. Imagine how she'd feel if it happened when she was supposed to be watching you." Ron said.
"No need to berate her, she's fine," Hermione said. "Besides, we need to get our uniforms."
"I was just over there," Ms. Ledezma said to Harry. "Why didn't you say so?"
Harry just shrugged.
They spent the next hour getting their uniforms. Ginny finished much faster than the rest, only really needing the basic robes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, on the other hand, required multiple sets of identical outfits each.
Ron tried his best to find reasons why he couldn't wear it, but only managed to escape from having to wear the sweater of the winter robes. Hermione somehow spent ten minutes picking between two skirts, despite them being exactly the same.
Then came Harry's turn. She was already in the changing room, to check she had the right size when she realized she was about to wear actual women's robes. She felt her heart race and her hands get clammy. Would she look ridiculous? Would Ms. Ledezma rip it off her, saying she had to wear the boy's uniform?
"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked through the door.
"Er, yeah, I just . . ." Harry trailed off, her eyes never leaving the uniform.
Harry hear the door open and close behind her, as someone slipped inside. A hand interlocked with her own. She looked over at her bushy-haired friend, who was giving her a warm smile.
"Are -- are you allowed in here?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Hermione said, as though it should be obvious. "We're all girls here, aren't we?"
Hermione stayed with Harry as she tried on the uniform. Sure, she turned around while Harry changed, as Harry asked, but she stayed nonetheless.
Harry relished the feeling of the soft leggings, never having worn anything like it before. She also enjoyed wearing the flowy skirt, despite taking a few minutes to figure out which way to wear it. Finally, she was finished donning her uniform.
"Wow," said a voice. Harry wasn't sure if she or Hermione said it.
"You look wonderful, Harry," said Hermione, as she hugged Harry tightly.
When Harry looked into the mirror, she had to agree. Her glasses looked good as new (which, thanks to Mr. Weasley, they were), and the red she added to her bangs flowed down over her shoulder, and the pop of color it gave balanced out the dark and gray colors of the uniform. Then she noticed the ratty old trainers she was supposed to wear.
"I need new shoes," Harry said before she even realized she said it.
"There's got to be a place somewhere here in Diagon Alley," said Hermione. "We can go find it after here."
Harry felt a flutter in her stomach and a smile on her face.
"Any help needed in -- oh, I see you two have it handled." Madam Malkin said, seeing Harry and Hermione, who were still hugging.
Harry stepped away and blushed, while Hermione softly giggled.
Harry quickly got the rest of her sets of her uniform, but couldn't quite get herself to take off her skirt, or leggings. In the end, she simply left while wearing them. This decision had almost immediate consequences.
She just about physically ran into Draco Malfoy as she was walking out the door.
"Oi! Watch it!" Draco shouted. "Do you know who -- Potter?"
"Malfoy," Harry said coldly.
Malfoy looked Harry up and down a few times before saying, "What are you wearing?"
"They're called clothes, Malfoy," Hermione said. "You'd think you'd know that."
Malfoy turned red, and seemed about to shout at them, but was stopped by Mr. Malfoy putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Now, now, Draco," Mr. Malfoy drawled. "They're here for the same reason as you." Mr. Malfoy looked down at the second-hand robes in Ginny's cauldron. "Even if they can't get the same -- quality -- as we will."
Mrs. Weasley was clearly unhappy with that statement but said and did nothing except pull ginny closer to her.
"May I?" said Mr. Malfoy, already reaching into Ginny's cauldron. He pulled out Ginny's robes and inspected them. "As I thought," he said, placing them back into her cauldron.
Mr. Malfoy steered Malfoy into Madam Malkin's but didn't stop Malfoy from slamming his shoulder into Rons. Harry couldn't help but laugh at how Ron didn't react at all, but Malfoy rubbed his shoulder.
The rest of their trip through Diagon Alley went perfectly well, even when Mr. Weasley tried to find a way to spend more time interrogating Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
Harry was certainly looking forward to this year at Hogwarts.
