Author's Notes: Well, this story is still not really a priority, but this chapter has been complete for a really long time, and since I've finally returned and posted again for my other story, I figure I may as well go ahead and put this one up. I have no idea when I'll update this story again, though, so sorry to disappoint if you're more interested in this one than The Other Dursley Son.

Edit: I tacked a little bit onto the end of this chapter, as it didn't feel like it presented the OC I put in here in quite the way I wanted it to, and it did kind of feel like an abrupt cut off.

Chapter 2

Harry awoke a few hours later with a sense of freedom that he had never felt before. He could do pretty much anything he wanted. Even within the bounds of his promise to Fudge, it was more than he really even knew what to do with. After taking a shower, he headed downstairs to see about getting some breakfast.

He found Tom behind the bar, attending to some patrons, and was grateful that the man chose not to call him by name, thus keeping his identity secret for the meantime. He quietly informed him, however, that 'their mutual friend' had already arranged to put Harry's room and board on his own tab.

"That really won't be necessary, Tom," Harry told him, "I can pay my own fare."

The barman looked as though he might argue but instead merely replied, "If you insist, that shouldn't be any problem."

As he ate his eggs and bacon, from a table in the corner Harry watched and listened interestedly as the other patrons went about their business, discussing everything from the hum-drum of their own daily lives to the latest articles in Transfiguration Today. The most widely discussed topic, however, was the escape and search for Sirius Black.

"It must've been some dark, secret magic he used to escape," said one middle-aged wizard, "Everyone knows he was in deep with You-Know-Who; he must have taught him some tricks."

"Then why did he wait so long to do it?" argued a handsome younger warlock with dark blond hair that Harry guessed was probably in his mid-thirties. "It's been nigh on twelve years now since he was tossed in Azkaban, and you know as well as I do that anyone who stays in that place for any length of time loses their minds with those things guarding them." He shook his head, "No, I say he had to have had some kind of help." He paused for a moment to glance around the table at his listeners, clearly holding their attention. "No one has ever escaped from Azkaban before, but if he could get help from someone at the ministry, someone with access to the prison with the right inside information . . ."

"Who would help the man?" asked a witch with a Scottish accent. "And why? Azkaban isn't exactly accessible to just anyone."

"Not all of You-Know-Who's followers went to Azkaban," the warlock said darkly. "Many pleaded that they were under the influence of the Imperius curse, and who's to say who was telling the truth? Those that were cleared were still disgraced, of course . . . for a time. But in the past few years, some of them have risen their way back up through the ranks at the Ministry, especially during the time since Mad-Eye Moody retired."

Harry listened to the warlock's argument with interest. He really had no idea who this Mad-Eye person was or why some chuckled at the reference to his retirement, but he assumed that the Imperius curse that the man referred to must be some means of magical coercion. He thought to himself that he would have asked Hermione if she were only present.

Harry finished the last bites of his breakfast and retreated back to his room.

He decided that he would go to Gringotts first thing to get however much money he would need for his room and board here at the Leaky Cauldron, not to mention his schoolbooks, ink, parchment, apothecary supplies and other equipment, as well as a new set of school robes, as the ones he had were now several inches too short in the arm and leg.

Grabbing what remained of his money pouch from his room as well as his school list and the key to his Gringotts vault, Harry made his way back down the stairs to ask Tom how much it would cost to spend the whole summer here at the Leaky Cauldron.

Afterwords, he went out the door to the back yard where he found the third brick from the left above the trashbin, which he tapped with his wand, opening the archway into Diagon Alley.

The Alley was every bit as wondrous as always. The cobbled street was filled with the activity of witches and wizards of every age, going about their business buying all their magical supplies.

"It's a lunascope, old boy—no more messing around with moon charts see?" Harry heard one wizard telling another as he passed them by.

The shops themselves were spectacular, their windows displaying some of the items sold within. Strange plants were hanging inside the windows of one of the apothecaries, caged owls were displayed at the magical pet shop, The Magical Menagerie, and a fine set dress robes were on display on a moving manequin in the window at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occaisions.

After weaving his way through the crowd, Harry found himself outside the tallest building in Diagon Alley. He climbed his way up the marble steps to the burnished bronze set of doors where a goblin in a scarlet and gold uniform bowed him inside. He approached one of the many goblins behind the long counter inside the grand marble hall, and presented the key to his vault.

Another goblin came and led him through one of the many doors off the hall, where they proceeded down a narrow stone passageway lit by flaming torches. They eventually came to a small set of railway tracks in the floor, the goblin whistled and a cart came flying up the tracks to take them.

Harry and the goblin climbed in, and the cart took off again through the labarinth of passageways deep underground. They finally came to Harry's vault, and he pulled out several handfuls of coins out of the different piles of silver and gold, stuffing them into his pouch. When he was done, the goblin took him back up to the bank.

He went to Madam Malkin's first where he was greeted by Madam Malkin herself, a squat, smiling witch all dressed in aquamarine today. "New sets of robes, dear?" she asked him.

"Yes, ma'am. Please," Harry replied politely.

"Well, just come right on over here," she told him kindly. "Another young lad's getting his robes done right now too." She brought him in, put a long set of robes that she could pin up at the appropriate lengths over his head, and stood him up on a stool next to another boy.

Harry recognized him as being a couple of years ahead of him in Hogwarts. He was pretty sure he was a Hufflepuff, but he didn't know his name. He was outrageously handsome, Harry thought, with neatly combed brown hair, and gray eyes. Another witch was fitting him for his robes, apparently one of Madam Malkin's employees.

"Hello," the boy said with a warm smile.

"Hello," Harry said, smiling back politely, going a little pink in the cheeks at being adressed by this good-looking boy.

"You're Harry Potter, right?"

"Yes," Harry replied, losing some of his embarrassment but hoping he didn't sound overly irritated. Everyone always asked him that.

"You're the Seeker for the Gryffindor team," the boy went on, "You're pretty good."

"Thanks," Harry said, relieved that he didn't ask to see his scar. "Er—I'm sorry, but I don't think I know your name."

"Cedric Diggory," Cedric introduced himself. "I've played Chaser for Hufflepuff in the past, but I might take the Seeker spot this year since our last one graduated. I'll have to see how the trials go for each position—I made Captain this year, you see."

"I guess we'll be rivals then," Harry told him with a grin.

"I suppose we will," he grinned back, revealing what Harry was sure were the cutest dimples he'd ever seen in his life.

Harry hoped he wasn't blushing too heavily. "A poof, as well as a freak," he imagined his Uncle Vernon's voice. He pushed the thought out of his mind. Who cares what Uncle Vernon thinks. "Honestly, Harry, I don't know if we can stay friends if you're a poof," he imagined Ron's voice in his head. Harry knew that homosexuality was significantly more accepted in the Wizarding world. He remembered seeing a pair of upper year boys snogging in a corridor once in first year, and no one had seemed to pay any attention. Still, he worried how his friends might react.

"You're all finished," the witch that was pinning up Cedric's robes said. He stepped down from the stool, and she pulled the pinned up robes off of him, taking them to a back room to make his set of school robes.

"What's your favorite team?" the older boy asked him, while he was waiting.

Pulling his thoughts, back into the present conversation, Harry hesitated before replying, "Probably the Chudley Cannons." Since he didn't really know the actual British teams all that well, he figured it'd be safest to just choose Ron's favorite team.

"Nice," Cedric said beaming. "I'm a Magpies fan myself."

Harry smiled, trying to think of something to say. He didn't really follow professional Quidditch all too closely, and the most he knew about the Magpies was that they were from somewhere in Scotland.

"So you'll be in third year, this year, right?" the Hufflepuff said, filling the silence, as Madam Malkin continued pinning up Harry's robes.

"Yeah."

"What electives are you taking?"

"Well, I didn't really know what to take," Harry replied honestly, "so I just took the same classes as my friend Ron. I'll be in Care of Magical Creatures and Divination."

"Care of Magical Creatures is always a really great class to take, but Divination is kind of worthless when you're looking for a job," Cedric told him. "If you have the gift for it, I suppose it could come in handy, and I think I heard it's helpful if you're trying to get a job in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry—but overall, it's not really worth the time and effort."

Hearing these words, Harry was feeling kind of stupid. "What classes did you take?"

"Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and the Study of Ancient Runes," Cedric said. "Muggle Studies is interesting some of the time, but mostly I took it because it looks really good on your resume if you're trying to get a job in the Ministry; so many witches and wizards that didn't grow up around muggles know nothing about them and how to interract with them, you know. It's actually a pretty easy class, but it wouldn't do you any good—you were already raised by muggles, right?"

Harry nodded his confirmation, and the Hufflepuff boy continued, "Ancient Runes, on the other hand—while fascinating—is not really my best subject. It's kind of a boring class—for me, at least. I wish I'd taken Arithmancy instead."

Madam Malkin had Harry step off the stool and took his robes from him, telling him that it would take a few minutes for her to put the robes together. There was a jingle at the door and a middle-aged man stepped inside.

"Hey, Dad," Cedric said. "I think she's almost done making up my robes."

Madam Malkin's assistant chose that moment to reappear, stepping out of the back room with three freshly made sets of Hogwarts robes. Cedric's father paid the woman, and turned to head back outside.

Before leaving, Cedric came back up to Harry and shook his hand. "It was nice talking to you, Harry," he said, and with that, he followed his dad out of the shop.

It didn't take long for Harry Madam Malkin to finish Harry's robes up too. She came out and handed them to him and he paid her for them. She also recommended a good second-hand robes shop where he could get rid of his old ones if they were still in good condition. He thanked her, and headed on his way down the cobbled street to do the rest of his shopping.

Harry went into Flourish and Blotts to buy his books. As soon as he walked in the front door, the mannager hurried toward him, asking, "Hogwarts? Come to buy your new books?"

"Yes," he replied. "I need—"

"Out of the way," the manager said impatiently as he drew on a pair of thick, heavy gloves, grabbed a large, knobly walking stick, and proceeded toward a large cage of angry books labeled: The Monster Book of Monsters.

"Hang on," Harry told him quickly. "I've already got my copy of that book." He'd gotten it as a birthday present from Hagrid.

"Have you?" the manager said, a look of enormous relief spread across his face. "Thank heavens for that. I've already been bitten five times this morning. . . . Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Well," Harry began, looking down his booklist, "I'll need Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky—"

"Ah," said the manager, "Starting Divination, are you?" He stripped off his gloves and led Harry to a corner in the back of the shop that was devoted to fortune-telling.

"Here you are," the manager said as he pulled a thick, black-bound book from one of the shelves. "Unfogging the Future. Excellent guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods—palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails—"

Harry was only half listening. His eyes had fallen to a display on a small table amongst which was a book entitled: Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming.

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," the manager told him lightly, once he saw what Harry was looking at. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."

But Harry continued looking at the front cover of the book, which showed a black dog, as large as a bear with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar . . .

"Anything else?" the manager asked as he pressed Unfogging the Future into Harry's hands.

"Yes," Harry said, tearing his eyes away from the dog's and dazedly consulting his booklist. "Er—I need Intermediate Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three."

Less than ten minutes later, Harry emerged from Flourish and Blotts with all his things in hand and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, somewhat pensive on the way back.

He couldn't help but wonder, could that black dog he'd seen back on Magnolia Crescent have been a death omen? No, he decided. He had been such a friendly animal—not frightening in the least. And the poor skinny thing wasn't near as big as the monstrosity on the cover of that book. He remembered the words of the manager, "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere." The whole thing was probably just in his head.

Once he got back to the Leaky Cauldron, he hauled all his things up the stairs to his room. When he passed the door to the room adjascent to his, he noticed it was wide open, and Harry saw Cedric sitting inside with his father and the younger warlock that he had listened to during his breakfast.

Harry entered his own room—which he saw had been tidied up while he was shopping out in Diagon Alley—and left his door slightly ajar as he quietly put his things away. It occured to him that he shouldn't really be eavesdropping, but he argued with himself that if they didn't want eavesdropped on, they should have closed the door. Besides, he was curious to know more about Cedric.

"So what are you doing back in Britain, brother?" the voice of Cedric's dad asked. "Get tired of New Zealand already?"

"Well, Amos, I'm here as a favor to Amelia," came the Warlock's reply. "She wants to make use of the fact that my reputation here in England has been permanently tarnished by those articles the Skeeter woman wrote. None of it was true, of course, but after she'd spread the word that I was dealing in illegal trade-goods, it made business here hard for me, which, as you know, was why I had to leave."

"Why could she possibly need someone of a tarnished reputation, Uncle Levi?" Cedric asked curiously.

"She wants me to watch the comings and goings in Knockturn Alley, and see if I can hear any word about Sirius Black," replied the warlock, aparently called Levi. "For now, she just wants me to pose as a potential buyer for some Welsh Green eggs if I can find some."

"Be careful, Levi," Amos said, "The door's open."

"Oh!" Levi's voice exclaimed, "I didn't see that." Harry heard the door click shut.

Unable to hear the remainder of the conversation, he busied himself putting his new things into his trunk before heading down the stairs to have lunch. He was immediately overwealmed by how many people were down there, however—if the place had been busy during breakfast time, then business was absolutely booming in the pub at right that moment. The Leaky Cauldron was so full of people that it really didn't look like he'd be able to get a table right now.

When Tom saw him, he came over and said, "If you don't mind, Harry, you might want to eat up in your room if you want lunch right now. We're kind of busy, and you probably want to keep a low profile."

Harry nodded and Tom went to the back and brought him out a plate piled with ham and mashed potatoes. "Be careful with that going up the stairs," the barkeep told him.

Harry finished his meal quickly, as he was rather hungry and brought the plate back down. When he went back up, he immediately saw that the door to the room next to his was open again, Cedric and his father standing just outside it, apparently readying themselves to leave.

"No, no, Levi," Amos was saying. "We've eaten already, I'm afraid."

"Ah well, it's great seening you again brother," Levi replied. "It's really been far too long."

Seeing Harry as he walked by, Cedric immediately said, "Hello again!"

"Hi, Cedric," Harry said, feeling himself blush again as he hurried into his room. Harry listened to him outside the door.

"Friend of yours, Ced?" Levi asked his nephew.

"I know him from school," Cedric replied simply, and Harry was thankful that he'd had the discretion to not tell them his name. All it would take is the rumor that he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and he would never get another moment's peace.

"You're coming to dinner tomorrow evening—Angie insists," Amos told his brother, his voice fading as they walked further down the hall.

Harry sat in his bed as he thought about what he'd heard. Cedric's Uncle Levi was evidently a very interesting character. He wondered what he could have done to ruin his reputation like he was talking about.

With the whole rest of the day spread out before him, Harry took the time to wonder what he would do next. . . .

xXx

During the following weeks, Harry explored almost every shop in Diagon Alley. One of which, called Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, he visited just about every day. Florean Fortescue himself had recognized him but promised not to mention to anyone who he was, for which Harry was quite grateful.

Fortescue served him free sundaes every half-hour he was there and even went so far as to help his young customer with the History of Magic essay he'd been assigned over the summer, proving himself very knowledgeable about medieval witch-burnings.

"Well, Harry, you're by far my most loyal customer," the older wizard would tell him.

"Well, that's not surprising considering how much free ice cream you give me every day," Harry would laugh.

Apart from the ice cream shop, there was another store that Harry found himself returning to every day. It all started a week after he'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. He was walking down the cobbled street after having visited a joke shop that he was sure Fred and George would have loved, when he came upon a broom shop, which Harry could see—after looking through the display window—had a rather sizable crowd gathered within.

Harry stepped inside to see what all the commotion was about, and overheard, "Just come out—prototype—"

After squeezing his way through the crowd, he found a newly erected podium, on which was the most magnificent broom he'd ever seen in his life. A sign next to it read:

THE FIREBOLT

This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a stream-lined, supreme handle of ash, treated with a diamond-hard polish and hand-numbered with its own registration number. Each individually selected birch twig in the broomtail has been honed to aerodynamic perfection, giving the Firebolt unsurpassable balance and pinpoint precision. The Firebolt has an acceleration of 150 miles per hour in 10 seconds and incorperates an unbreakable braking charm. Price on request.

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeeked one boy, younger than Harry, swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish Internationional Side's just put in an order for seven of these beauties!" the shop's proprietor enthusiastically told the crowd. "And they're favorites for the World Cup!"

Harry was sorely tempted by the new broom, but he didn't like the sound of Price on request. He was sure he would have enough gold to cover it in his vault in Gringotts, but it wouldn't do to be wasteful with his money when he had a perfectly good broom in his Nimbus Two Thousand, upon which, he reminded himself, he had never lost a Quidditch match. He never asked for the price but returned every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt.

A few days later, Harry ran into Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas at the broom shop; the day after that, he saw Neville Longbottom outside of Flourish and Blotts, being told off by his grandmother for having misplaced his school list. As the start of term grew closer and closer, Harry saw many of his other classmates as well, but not Ron and Hermione.

One evening though, as he was walking through the Alley, back to the Leaky Cauldron, he came across a sight that stopped him in his tracks. There, standing in front of him, was standing a great, skinny black dog, and Harry was sure that it was the same one that he'd seen that night on Magnolia Crescent.

"Hey there, boy!" Harry called, but the beast ran off down the cobbled street. Harry followed until it turned down Knockturn Alley. "What are you doing down there?" he thought aloud to himself.

It occured to him to keep following, but the memory of his last experince in Knockturn alley at Borgin and Burkes was engough to dissuade him. Besides, he had made a promise to Fudge to keep to Diagon Alley.

But what kind of dog could have made it through the magical barrier in The Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley, not to mention the distance from Little Whinging to London? And why?

"Not thinking of taking a stroll down Knockturn Alley, are you?" came a voice from behind Harry, snapping him to attention. He immediately reached for his wand and whipped around to find the handsome face of Cedric's Uncle Levi.

"Whoa there!" he exclaimed with a laugh, raising his open palms. "No need for that! I surrender!"

Harry lowered his wand. "Mr. Diggory."

This elicited a raised eyebrow from the man momentarily, before his eyes flashed with recognition. "You're Cedric's little friend, aren't you? The one staying at the Leaky Cauldron in the room next to mine?"

"Yes," Harry replied simply.

"You've been keeping a very low profile."

Feeling a bit uncomfortable now, Harry tried to brush the man off. "Yes, thank you, and I'd like to continue doing so, so if you don't mind, I'll be heading back to the Leaky Cauldron now."

"I'd be happy to escort you back," Diggory offered. "It's getting dark, and we all know that there's a killer on the loose."

"If you must," Harry said. He didn't really know this man, beyond that he was rather outspoken sometimes in the tavern and that he was Cedric Diggory's Uncle, yet he didn't really feel put off by him. Letting the man merely escort him back to the Leaky Cauldron didn't seem like an outrageous proposition. He glanced back at Knockturn Alley, though the Black Dog was nowhere to be seen.

"Did you see that large black dog?" Harry decided to ask the Warlock.

"A black dog?" he replied curiously. "I didn't see him just now, but since you mention it, I have been seeing a strange black dog moving about in the Alley lately." He scoffed, "If I was a bit more superstitious, I'd be worried; he looks like the Grim."

"The Grim?" Harry asked, remembering the Book he'd seen at Flourish and Blott's: Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming.

"Oh, that's just a classic supposed—quote, unquote—'Death Omen,'" Diggory told him, making quotation marks with his fingers and confirming Harry's thoughts, connecting the name The Grim with that odd book. "It's perfect nonsense," The Warlock continued. "Do you know its owner or something?"

"Hmm?" Harry said, pulled out of his thoughts. "Oh no, it's just odd. I've been seeing him too, and I happened to see one that looks a lot like him right before I left home in Surrey a few weeks ago."

They arrived at the bar, and made their way up the stairs together to their rooms, which Harry found a bit awkward. "Well, goodnight, sir," Harry said to the man. "While not really necessary, your escort was appreciated."

"Goodnight, Potter," Diggory said to him.

It took a moment for the ramifications of his words to sink in, he quickly whipped around and opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, the warlock cut him off. "Your identity is safe with me," he said, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

"Did—"

"Cedric didn't tell me anything about you, but you mentioned that you were from Surrey, and I speak often with my cousin Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and you fit the descriptions. I've heard all about your exploits, this summer." The Warlock lifted an eyebrow.

Harry bristled a little indignantly, "It's not like I did it on purpose!"

"I gathered that," Diggory said, raising his hands defensively. "I just mean, that you caused quite a stir at the Ministry, when you disappeared. You know, not even Amelia was told where you're spending the remainder of your summer. I'd say it was foolish on the Minister's part, hiding you in plain sight, but a you seem to be quite discreet in keeping such a low profile for so many weeks, especially for someone so famous, at your rather young age."

"Well, thanks, I suppose," Harry said slowly, mildly irritated by the situation, and how smug the man seemed, apparently confident that he had him all figured out. "I'll appreciate your discretion, in keeping my identity to yourself."

"Of course, of course," the Warlock nodded. "I won't even tell Amelia," he paused, "at least until you've started your term. I'm afraid I won't be able to resist telling her. She'll find Fudge's hiding place most amusing."

Harry sighed, "Just so long as you don't tell any of the locals. I don't need them remembering me, if I need to use this place and lay low again."

"Not to worry, Potter," the man waved off his concerns, "Like I said before, I'm very capable of being discreet, when I need to be."

Author's Notes: There you have Chapter 2; I hope you enjoyed it. You can let me know what you think an a review if you want. If I get a lot more interest in this story than The Other Dursley Son, I'm fickle enough that it could persuade me to turn more focus onto this, and you never know when, where, or how inspiration is going to hit you.