Chapter 2: Evil Uncle Lucius

Harry stepped in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace: Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harry realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.

"Your Quidditch team?" asked Harry.

"The Chudley Cannons," answered said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."

Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. Ron's magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun.

Harry stepped over a pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out of the tiny window. In the field far below he could see a gang of gnomes sneaking one by one back through the Weasleys' hedge. Then he turned to look at Ron, who was watching him almost nervously, as though waiting for his opinion.

"It's a bit small," said Ron quickly, "Not like that room you had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning…"

But Harry, grinning widely, said, "This is the best house I've ever been in."

Ron's ears went pink.

Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!" The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's, however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like him.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of his socks and tried to force him to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard him with questions about life with Muggles, asking him 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 of getting along without magic."

Maybe Arthur just did that because Harry was The Boy Who Lived. John never got such treatment after all. Especially, since his father was a muggle. Speaking of John, he had been spending most of the time pacing in his room that used to be a closet, but had received treatment to be bigger on the inside. Harry hadn't had the time to ask why though. At least, that's what Harry tells himself.

Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had arrived at the Burrow. He and Ron went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.

"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink, "Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry… doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas. John also arrived in the room, this time wearing his clothes.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.

Second-year students will require:
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
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

John's expression grew from "meh" to "pissed-the-fuck-off." He instinctively moved to grab his wand to incinerate all their lists, but as the books were required by the school he stopped himself and proceeded to bang his head on the table. Much to Molly's chagrin.

"Why are you banging your head on the table, John?" Arthur asked concerned. However, the answer was evident when 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."

"Oh," Arthur mouthed understandingly as Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick 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.

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry, because just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."

"Canoodling with your girlfriend, were you?" John leered as he stopped banging his head which had grown redder that the reddest red known to man.

"John!" Molly exclaimed unhappy at John's remark to Percy. However, her unhappiness was replaced with concern as she saw the color on his forehead. If she were to look down at the table, there'd be a dent the size of John's forehead.

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster… at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally… he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to 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 causing John to snort in laughter so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:

"'Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,'"

"'I hope everything went alright and that Harry is okay and that you and John didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, 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.'"

John widened his eyes as Molly glared at John after hearing what Ron read from Hermione's letter. John knew how terrifying Molly was when she was pissed off, and that's why he used an astral projection instead of going in person. He didn't even consider that Hermione would write back to Ron including him in her letter. He gulped as he looked away guiltily.

"'I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'… How can she be?" continued 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 and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table, "What're you all up to today?"

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George 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. John was unable to go with them however, as Molly had held him back for an overdue shouting session.

They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead they threw apples for one another to catch. Even though John had used his muggle-magic to return the brooms to the condition they were when they were brand spanking new, the Weasleys and Harry took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.

Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's puzzled look, "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harry had never met either of them, but knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.

"What I don't understand is why John has been spending so much time in his closet," Harry said.

"He received a letter the day we went to get you," Ron explained.

"Refused to share it with us," the Fred frowned.

"Said we'd muck it up just be being there!" George complained.

"Muck what up?" Harry asked confused.

"An exorcism," sighed the twins in unison.

"The letter indicated it was urgent," Ron said after a minute of silence between them, "however, his earliest convenience is Christmas."

"So he's trying to determine if he should skip the first day or wait till Christmas?" Harry concluded.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "Not the only problem though."

"What else is there?" Harry asked.

"The bloke who requested his services is currently residing in the French Embassy," Ron said, "and as John's neither a british diplomat or French he doesn't know how he'll get it."

"What about your dad?" Harry frowned.

"I asked him that too," Ron sighed, "he just rejected it."

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George changing the subject, "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything…"

Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had money; you couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; he didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold.

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, 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 him the flowerpot.

Harry stared at them all watching him.

"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"I went on the Underground…" Harry began.

"Really?" interrupted 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…"

"He'll be alright Molly," John interrupted as he produced a bag and pulled something out of it. This was the same bag that contained the floo powder that he used to talk with Ron, Harry, and the others the night that Fluffy was revealed to Chas, Ron, Hermione, and Harry.

"Just watch me," John said as he stepped into the bare fireplace, "Oh, and uh, I might be a bit late."

"You're going to go do it now?" Ron asked.

"No," John said shaking his head knowing what ron was asking, "Don't have the room number. I just have to make a pit stop. I'll be there soon enough though."

"You're going to go get your lighter!" Harry said in realization.

"No," John said, "your bloody house is too well supervised, besides your pratt of an uncle would probably end up knocking me out and tying me up so that I'd still be there for when the coppers arrive."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, "You're probably right."

"Where are you heading then?" Fred asked.

John just smirked before he threw down the dust and vanished in a whoosh of emerald flames.

"So that's what floo powder is," Harry said remembering his first year when John had poked his head out of the Gryffindor common room's fireplace, "What exactly is it?"

"Powder that you throw into a lit fireplace or a bare one," Molly said wide-eyed that John hadn't said a word when he vanished, "How did he do that? Nobody is capable of travelling with floo powder without saying their destination?"

"No idea," the twins said with a look indicating that they were going to persuade John to teach them that trick no matter the cost.

"Okay Harry," Fred said as he walked up and took a pinch of the glittering powder, "watch how I do it."

He then turned to the flame which had changed color to a normal orange-y color for some reason nobody knew or cared to figure out at the moment. He stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand 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, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly-"

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder, too.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her grimly, "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, when you get into the fire, say where you're going-"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.

"And your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley, "The soot-"

"Don't fidget," said Ron, "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace-"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed.

It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast, the roaring in his ears was deafening, he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick. Something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning. Now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face, squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond. His bacon sandwiches were churning inside him. He closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then…"

He fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of his glasses snap.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" exclaimed a familiar Liverpudlian voice.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, Harry got gingerly to his feet, holding his broken glasses up to his eyes. He saw John Constantine standing there looking at him with a shocked and annoyed expression. Wherever they were, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop, but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

"I could ask you the same John," Harry replied as he wiped the dust from his wizard robes.

"Just hurry out of here!" John hissed as Harry looked around the room at all the various items.

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.

Harry agreed with John entirely. The sooner he got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass, and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

"Over here!" John hissed at Harry from next to a cabinet.

When Harry heard John he turned around, and hurried over to the cabinet that John had opened. As soon as he got inside, John shut the door and an audible click could be heard.

"Don't worry mate," John said through the door, "I'll unlock it once you're free."

Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop. John had fortunately found a place to hide. However, the place he found more than likely wouldn't be safe for long. Specifically, because he hid where he could keep an eye on the Malfoy's.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray 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 bad-tempered, "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous… famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…"

"Shut your scaly mouth!" John shouted as he stepped out from his hiding place and aimed his wand at Draco, "Or I'll shut it for you."

"Constantine!" snarled Draco as he too pulled out his wand.

"Draco," Lucius chided, "put your wand away. We don't kill family after all."

"He's no family of mine," Draco sneered, "He's just a half-blood that has allied himself with Potter and that mud-"

"Avis!" John yelled resulting in a flock of birds flying straight at Draco forcing him to cower as the birds began pecking at him.

"Dad!" Draco cried out as he curled into a ball to protect his important parts.

"Priori Incantatem," Lucius said after a minute of looking down on Draco in disappointment. Suddenly, the birds disappeared allowing Draco to stand up.

"You'll pay for that!" Draco seethed towards John, "My father will-"

"I will do nothing," Lucius interrupted, "now, go wait outside Draco. I don't need you causing anymore unneeded fights between family."

"You're being a lot more reasonable towards me than normal, Lucius," John said narrowing his eyes at his uncle.

"I have a message for you," Lucius said turning his cold gaze on John, "Its from the Minister for Magic."

"What message is that?" John asked not really caring.

"I have no idea," Lucius admitted unhappily as he pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket of his cloak, "he said to give this to you today."

John slowly held out his hand for the envelope, but when he failed to grab hold of it as Lucius dropped it on purpose he didn't bend over to pick it up. As Lucius had intended to kick John to the ground for using that spell on Draco he frowned internally. Instead, he merely pointed his wand at join and an arrow fired out of it and straight into his leg. The pain forced John to his knees as he went to pull it out.

"Ever attack my son again," Lucius threatened as he kicked John to the floor and pressed his foot down into the wound causing the portion of the arrow inside of John to press against his wound at the same times as the portions outside of his wound, "and I won't let the mere fact that you're my sister's son stop me from ending your life."

He then removed his foot from John's wound and turned his attention to the counter.

"Ah," Lucius said as if nothing happened, "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 to see you're as ruthless as ever," Mr. Borgin added as he looked down on the bleeding form of John, "What'd he do?"

"That's none of your concern," Lucius said stiffly, "I am here for business, not pleasantries."

"Fine with me," Borgin shrugged as he didn't care one way or the other, "How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced…"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," interrupted 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 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 while John's rage just increased but he didn't do anything since he knew Lucius currently had the upper hand.

"and as you see, Lucius was saying, "certain of these poisons might make it appear-"

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see…"

They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as John continued bleeding out on the floor as he began crawling nearer and nearer to his 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 to Date.

"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. He then turned around and stepped on John as he walked towards the exit.

"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 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. John waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, muttered the unlocking spell which he aimed at the cabinet. Harry then slipped out of the cabinet, helped John to his feet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.

"Looks like I'm going to have to come back at some point later," John muttered as the blood loss began getting to him.

Clutching his broken glasses to his face, Harry stared around. Theu had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one they'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching them from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off, trying to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of here.

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him they were in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as Harry had never heard of such a place. He supposed he hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what to do.

"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making him jump.

An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.

"We're fine, thanks," he said. "we're just-"

"HARRY! JOHN! What d'yeh two think yer doin' down there?"

Harry's heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.

"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief, "I was lost… Floo powder…"

Hagrid seized Harry by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance… Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered him right into Diagon Alley.

"Yer both a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing remnant soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary, "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno… dodgy place, Harry… don' want no one ter see either of yeh down there…"

"I realized that," said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost… what were you doing down there, anyway?"

"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent," growled Hagrid. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yeh two not on yer own?"

"I'm staying with the Weasleys and John's living with them currently, but we got separated," Harry explained. "I've got to go and find them…"

"'Kay then," Hagrid said as he laid john on the ground, "Firs' we gotta remove this arro' from 'is leg. Happen ta have a clean cloth on yeh?"

"No…" Harry said as he looked at what Hagrid was doing.

"Very well then," Hagrid sighed as he picked John up, "Maybe we can find someone who can."

They set off together down the street.

"How come yeh never wrote back ter me?" said Hagrid as Harry jogged alongside him (he had to take three steps to every stride of Hagrid's enormous boots). Harry explained all about Dobby and the Dursleys.

"Lousy Muggles," growled Hagrid. "If I'd've known-"

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger 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?" Hermione said, " Hello, Hagrid…"

"What happened to john?" Hermione asked in concern as she finally noticed John and his condition.

"Draco's dad sort of…" Harry said unsure how to explain it, "shot an arrow into John's leg from his wand."

"Ruttin' bastards," growled Hagrid, "attackin' their own family like tha'. They make the Dursleys look like Fluffy."

"That is a horrid comparison," Harry and Hermione stated in unison.

"Not to me," Hagrid said.

"Lay him on the ground," Hermione said changing the subject.

"What're yeh gonna do?" Hagrid asked as he did so.

"Remove the arrow and I'll show you," Hermione responded.

As soon as Hagrid removed the arrow, Hermione aimed her wand at the wound as she prepared to do a spell.

"Anapneo," Hermione said and a second later john's oozing wound began healing up. Eventually, the only evidence of him getting shot in the leg was holes in the back and front of his pants and blood that had had hardened the fabric. Hermione decided to do another spell and repaired john's pants as well.

"Oh," Hermione said as she stood up, "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 as he continued, "Molly's frantic… she's coming now…"

Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.

"Excellent!" said Fred and George together.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

"You wouldn't last a day," John groaned as he slowly got up to his feet.

"What happened to you?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"My uncle shot my leg with a magic arrow," John said grimly, "nearly bled to death too. Who…"

John trailed off as he looked at the people near him till he saw Hermione.

"Of course," John said, "It had to be you."

now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.

"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 yer at Hogwarts!"

And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.

"Why'd your uncle put an arrow in you?" Hermione asked.

"I sort of…" John said a little self-conscious as Mrs. Weasley watching the conversation, "sent a flock of magical birds to peck at Draco…"

"Cool," the twins said in unison.

"Not cool," Hermione and Mrs. Weasley said in unison as well, "you could've seriously hurt him."

"Well the wanker deserved it," John defended himself, "He almost used the derogatory word specifically designed to insult muggle-borns."

"That little-" Mrs. Weasley said angrily, "That whole family is nothing but rotten monsters! The lot of them!"

"Uh mum," Ron said as he pointed a thumb at John.

"Oh," Molly said her expression softening, "present company excluded of course."

"Let's just go get what we need from Gringotts," Mr. Weasley said changing the subject, "and then finally get the shopping done with."

"Oh," John said remembering something as they headed towards the bank, "Arthur. You probably should know that my uncle was at Borgin and Burke's."

"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 Lucius Malfoy for something…"

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "As we know already 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.

"Here we go," John groaned. He was honestly getting tired of Arthur's obession with anything muggle-related.

"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly, "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? 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, John, 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 miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasleys' vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, 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 his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag. John on the other hand, didn't bother to hide how much money he had. After John's vault opened everyone, including Harry, dropped their jaws as they saw that the vault was big enough to hold the entire Hogwarts Express inside and it was filled to the brim. They stayed that way as John grabbed some of his riches and placed them in some bags.

"What?" John asked innocently after he returned to the cart.

"I hate you," the twins said in unison.

"How… when…" Ron stammered.

"Exorcising demons from prominent wizards pays very well," John shrugged, "one of them even tried to give his daughter's hand to me in marriage. I said no. Besides, I don't use my money all that much."

"Why not?" Harry asked confused.

"I'm going to need it to buy my own island one day," John shrugged.

"Why would you do that?!" Ron exclaimed.

"Dragons," John said bluntly, "where else can I have one? Use your head."

"That's right…" Harry said remembering, "he did say that he always wanted to have a dragon."

I figured why not make John extremely rich. he is the star of this fanfiction series i'm doing and the star is always richer than his friends.