You're a protagonist Harry
Chapter 06 – The other alley
…
"So, this is Knockturn Alley."
"What an appropriate name," Harry marveled. "Love the ambiance."
Where Diagon Alley glinted and sparkled with magical whimsy, Knockturn Alley looked like the sort of place you'd find Jack the ripper hanging around on a Friday night.
There was a sort of tangible gloom hanging over the place and the buildings all seemed to curve in as they rose, shrouding any weak ray of light bold enough to come near and lucky enough not to have been shanked on arrival.
"Not that I lay claim to any expertise," said Harry, "but do you really think we're going to find dog treats 'here'."
"Sure," said Abner, unperturbed by the atmosphere. One might even say he was, above it, eh, eh… "It's just a low rent district. You'd be surprised what you can find."
"I'm sure you're right," the place looked like it could be full of surprises. The trick was going to be surviving them.
He was only a 'bad boy' on Privet Drive. In real life he was quick to jump and kinda squishy.
He was also unarmed, save for his new wand which he did not know how to use so when Abner strolled fearlessly into Knockturn Alley, Harry was quick to follow. There were advantages in staying near the biggest, toughest looking guy in the street.
Like being a less obvious target and having a big, angry wall of meat to hide behind.
"So where is this shop?" Harry asked, detecting a notable lack of signage on the buildings they passed, or at least readable signage.
"Toward the end and down the left fork," he repeated.
"Huh? A fork. Wonder how long this alley is?"
Diagon Alley had been a good walk form one end to the other and had seemed much shorter due to the endless variety of things to gawp at. Knockturn Alley gave the feeling it was gawping at you, or Harry anyway. Maybe it was Abner.
Immediately the trip felt like it was taking much longer, and his rubbernecking here was not done out of curiosity but a desire to survive. If his eyes were to be believed, it was all for naught.
"Where is everybody?"
"Probably at work," said Abner. "People don't live in a low rent district for no reason."
Made sense, "And we're sure there are shops down here."
"We've already passed five," he said, "and there's another."
The building to which his attention was directed looked little different than the ones on either side. This was something of a practical illusion. The grime of years covering the big window made it look like a part of the wall and the placard on the door was so tarnished as to be unreadable.
"Don't advertise very well, do they?"
"Some businesses don't want to advertise where just anyone can see it, if you get my meaning."
"Questionable products," Harry ventured, "questionable legality."
Abner nodded, licking his thumb and rubbing some of the tarnish away. "Hmm. Apothecary. That's not it."
The next two proved equally unhelpful; a shop cluttered full of random…things, most of a very questionable nature (the question being, what the heck is it) and a shop with an actual sign over the door. Faded and cracked but still visibly bearing a pair of crossed daggers carved on it.
"Weapon shop," Abner surmised, "or maybe a dueling shop."
"Is dueling legal?" he was almost certain some teacher or other had told him at one point about a ban on dueling.
"It's a sport, mostly."
What 'mostly' meant he was left to guess when their search was suddenly interrupted.
"Look out! Gang way! Coming through!"
She appeared out of nowhere, running pell mell down the street with a small sack thrown over her shoulder. Long in the limb, she was not especially tall but there was a density to the girl with the mop of brown hair, as Harry learned when she plowed straight through him without so much as a "Sorry," in passing.
"You okay there?" Abner inquired of the newest bit of roadkill.
"… ow."
"Hm. Yeah, you're okay."
More or less. It wasn't the hardest he'd ever been hit, though probably the hardest he'd been hit by a girl.
"Ey! Come back here! Ey!"
The old man appeared much slower than the girl, waving his wand about uselessly as he panted and puffed and ran not terribly fast.
"Ey—you—you seen—girl come—by here?"
Abner looked down at Harry, smirking ever so slightly, "You 'see' a girl run through here Harry?"
"I wouldn't say see," Harry mused philosophically from the ground, "more like felt," and it felt like he should have the shoe print on his chest to prove it.
"Eh! Ta heck with it. Miserable brat," the old man grumbled and began to walk away.
"Say, since we're asking questions, you wouldn't know where we could find a pet store around here?" Abner inquired all nonchalant.
The old man was not fooled and was automatically suspicious, "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. What's it too ya?"
"Uh, we're looking for one."
"What fur?"
"To buy dog treats."
"What kinda dog treats?"
"Big ones."
"How big?"
"This big."
"Huh, that's pretty big."
Using the black giant's hands as a form of measuring stick could make anything look big, Harry thought… but that was pretty big.
"Funny. Only one guy I know buys dog treats that big," the old man said with slightly less hostility but an increase in inquisitive curiosity.
"He wouldn't happened to be name Hagrid, would he?" Harry asked.
Apparently 'Hagrid' was the secret word. The old mans suspicion melted away and he was instantly all smiles.
"You boys know Hagrid?"
"Ee's me cousin," said Abner.
"Yes, yes I can see it now. It's the height. Should have tipped me off."
Come to find out, the old man owned the very pet shop they were looking for, proving, in Harry's mind, Fate had a sense of humor. Of course, Destiny could have told you that, she could have told you a lot of things about Fate. And if you listened to Fate, she would have told you not to listen to a thing Destiny had to say, so how's that for a conundrum?
In any event, after peeling Harry off the street, the trio made the short trip down the alley to the pet store, and Harry was once again taken by the whimsy of magic. The inside of the pet shop was nothing like Diagon Alley, but it was full of such an array of strange and interesting creatures, once again he found his teenage cynicism failing him, and he boggled at everything.
"So, how many were you wanting then?"
"Hagrid said something about the 'big' bag. I'm guessing you probably know what that means?"
The old man chuckled, waving his wand at a brown bag about the size of a sack of rice.
"That's the 'big' bag," Harry wondered aloud, maybe a bit too loud, but the old shopkeep just chuckled.
"The bags bigger on the inside lad. You ain't never heard a magic before?"
"Sorta," he said noncommittally, losing interest in the bag when the lid of a container sitting on the counter began to move.
"Whatchu, Muggle-born then. Not that I got no problem wit that type mind you jus, odd seeing one down Knockturn."
"I don't know what that is," said Harry, barely listening to the old man, far more interested with the creature slowly rising from the big clay pot.
It had three heads, all three flicking their tongues as they raised the lid and came out into the world.
"Ah, I see your admiring the Runespoor," the old man observed, putting on his salesman.
"Runespoor, is that what it's called?" Harry was too engrossed in the three headed snake to notice he was being pitched.
"Aye, had him a fair while now. Used to sell a lot of snakes back in the day, back when, you know who was running around."
"I do?" he didn't think he did.
"I mean, you know, the dark lord."
Harry just stared blankly so the shopkeep turned to Abner. "Don't look at me. I'm from the states. You wanna talk about dark lords you're gonna have to be more specific."
But he didn't want to be more specific, even thinking it seemed to cause him discomfort. Gesturing them in close, he whispered in a hoarse and frightened voice, "Voldemort."
"Voldemort," Harry repeated without the appropriate fear and was harshly shushed for it.
"Aye, him, he who must not be named so don't you go repeating it."
Something fell into place at the mention of 'he who must not be named'. But it didn't look like the shopkeep was all to keen on the subject, so he let it go for the time being.
"So, was this guy a leftover from, back in the day," Harry asked conversationally.
"This one, nah. He's a recent acquisition. Got a fella looking to purchase, so I'm afraid he's not for sale lessen you can beat what the other bloke's offerin."
He probably could, Harry thought, but as cool as a three-headed snake was, he wasn't sure he'd like to have one as a pet. This one seemed to be a bit of a malcontent anyway.
"Do they always complain like this?" he asked.
The old man looked at him quizzically, "Whatchu mean?"
"Well, do they always argue with each other? The middle head says its too cold, the one on the right says the middle head is just being sensitive and the one on the left is wondering if it could get away with eating the middle head."
The shopkeep looked at him, the kind of look that questions one's sanity, have you just grown another head sir or madam, is it crooning Bing Crosby? The snake wasn't spared the look either, but it already had three heads and not a crooner among'em.
A rattle and a shriek drew their attention from more uncomfortable topics, "Ah, not her again. Oy! You stop that!"
The shopkeep trotted over to a large birdcage, and because everything was interesting, Harry followed to see what was causing all the racket. "Whoa!" well worth the trot. "Is that a griffin?"
The small creature in the cage had a white eagle like head with short brown wings all attached to a lithe feline body.
"Not quite but close," the shopkeep said, "This is a griffinette," he explained. "They're a pygmy sort of griffin found only on one small island of the Greek Archipelago."
"Wicked!"
The shopkeep laughed, "Aye, they are a bit. Not as rare as that may sound. Breeders have been playing with them for over a century since they were discovered. They're harder to find outside of Greece, but not that hard. Had this one for a while. Bit of a pest she is, ain't ya!" he said, banging against the cage, earning an angry hiss from the creature within.
"How big do they get?" Harry asked, marveling at the little amalgam beast.
"Not too much bigger than she is. Maybe another six or eight inches. Bout as big as a medium sized dog," he said, banging the cage again only to snap his hand back when she tried to snap his finger off.
She released the bar almost instantly, brushing her beak like she'd just tasted something foul.
"She doesn't seem to like the cage," Harry observed.
"She shouldn't. It's made of lead. Griffinette hate the taste of lead. It's the only thing they won't eat."
"Really?"
"Oh yes," the shopkeep grinned. "Griffinette are rather like a Billy goat in that regard. Damn near nothing they won't eat. Probably their best and worst feature. You don't have to worry much what you feed a griffinette, and if you don't feed'em, their real good at feedin themselves. Problem is, they ain't picky. A bird is about as appetizing as a teapot to a griffinette. They'll chase a mouse as soon as chew on a boot. Don't make no difference to them."
"Whoa," what an appetite. "How much do they eat."
"Bout what you'd expect something that size would eat," he said vaguely. "And don't let the bird head fool ya. They're more cat than bird. Sleep most of the day if you let'em."
"Whatcha think Harry?" Abner asked after he stood there staring a while.
Cool! That's what he thought.
"Not a bad pet for a young wizard," the shopkeep offered. "Easy to feed. Pretty friendly once they get to know ya. Just got be careful not to leave anything you mind losing where they can get at it."
A minor drawback in the grand scheme, but did he really need a pet, want a pet, feel responsible enough for a pet. His misgivings became entirely moot when the little bird cat sat up in her cage, stared at him with those big doleful eyes and said "Prek."
Not being a teenage girl, Harry had never believed in the nonsense that is love at first sight. Still didn't. He'd been looking at her for several minutes before she gave him the look and he fell in love. Hardly first sight.
"Can't believe nobody else wanted you," Harry mused to his new pet that evening as they were finishing up dinner. "You're such a sweety."
Interesting isn't it how cute animals can turn even the most reasonable people into baby talking imbeciles. When you think about it, babies aren't really so different, except they grow up into the baby talking imbeciles.
"No regrets on that one then," said Abner, chuckling at the new pet owner.
"I only regretted the peacock quill a little," said Harry. His adventures in shopping had been fraught with excitement and danger and more useless crap than you could shake a wand at. He'd avoided most of it, but the peacock quill had been picked up early in the expedition. It was a learning mistake. "Still need to learn how to use one of those. Have wizards really never heard of ball point pens?"
"They're a bit behind the times," said Abner. "Most don't travel much on the muggle side like I do."
"Muggle, yeah. There's a word to learn." It sounded like an insult, or something a stumble down drunk might shout at a wall.
"Back home we call'em Mundane," said Abner. "Every country, every culture has their word for it. I think it reflects how they think about them, you know."
"Then British wizards don't think much of them," Harry surmised.
"Nope."
Harry allowed a sarcastic grin. The black giant was brutally honest, and, since he wouldn't be around much longer, it seemed like a perfect time to ask the question.
"Hey Abner, can I ask you something?" The big man shrugged. "You remember what that shopkeep was saying earlier, about the… 'dark lord' he whispered."
Abner chuckled, a low rumbling sound, "Yeah, I remember."
"You know anything about him? I feel like there's something important; I mean important to me specifically. That wand maker Ollivander made some allusions and the way everyone reacted when we came in here…"
"Wish I could help ya Harry," he said, "but all I know about this guy is what I've hear second or third hand. Wasn't over here back then. First met Hagrid when he came over to the states. I didn't come over here till after this, Voldewhatsit was gone. Heard it was quite the big deal though. Just sorta happened over night and his whole organization fell apart."
"Just, fell apart?"
"That's what I heard."
"Surprised none of his followers tried to declare themselves the dark lord."
Abner shrugged. "Cult of personality."
"Meaning the rest of them had no personality."
Abner snorted, then coughed, "Not while I'm eating kid."
Harry snorted a bit himself as the big man beat his chest to clear the shepherd's pie from his windpipe. "So, I guess you'll be off then, after this."
Abner nodded, "And you're all set up here for next week. Can't blame you, not wanting to back to those… people."
People. Yeah, that was probably the most polite thing to call them. "Still have to go back at the end of the school year, unless I can find something better."
"Always something better," the big man said. "And given where the bar is set, it shouldn't be that hard to clear."
"Well when you put it like that."
"Prek!"
The two humans chuckled at the input from the griffinette, "So, one week, then it's off to Hogwarts."
"Yep."
"Should be quite the ride I hear."
"Ride?"
"You know, on the train."
*Dramatic pause*
"Wait… what train?"