Chapter 2: Travel Essentials
Suffice to say, it was not nearly as surprising when the ground underneath Harry's feet turned into a pit this time. His scream was a lot more masculine.
However, he landed on his face again. Pity.
Harry smothered a curse and picked himself up from the floor the second time today. Somehow, instead of going back to Hogwarts, he had managed to land in another seedy place. Face first. Again.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Harry scanned his surroundings carefully to get an idea where the Plot Hole had led him. This time his wayward spell brought him to some sort of magical leather shop, judging by the pungent smell of raw dragon hide. Also, behind the counter, there was an elderly woman (who had to be at least as old as Dumbledore) in an fluffy mauve-coloured dress, a green pointy hat with a bejeweled Scarab beetle fixed at the wide-brimmed rim as decoration, a dead raccoon around her neck, and was currently petting a taxidermy black cat while reading a wizarding newspaper. If she were not a witch, she had to have a dead animal fetish or some other kinky habits Harry did not care to know about.
The stuffed (or Harry thought) black cat turned and meowed at him.
"Oh my, when did you get in here? I didn't hear the bell," said the elderly witch. She put the paper down on the counter and took off her reading glasses to give our hero a benign smile. "My ears are not working so well these days. Let me know if there is anything you need."
"Um, excuse me ma'am," Harry said apologetically, "I'm a little bit lost. Would you mind telling me where exactly I am?"
The old lady chuckled warmly at him. "You are at my shop, Sabrina's Leathery Sacs. Feel free to take a good look at my baggage."
Harry rapidly turned a nasty shade of green. He desperately hoped he was the one with a bad hearing problem. "No, thank you," He said quickly. He could've lived his whole life without being offered by a wrinkly old crone to show him her leathery sacs.
The woman gave our hero a disappointed look. "Are you sure? My shop is one of the oldest and most reputable around town. In fact, this is the only shop in Moscow where you can find magical baggage made from genuine dragon hide."
"No, really. Thank you. I have no money with me anyway… Hold on. Did you just say 'Moscow'?"
The old lady frowned at Harry's question and nodded. "Yes, of course."
"But we are talking in English."
"Of course we are. I was born and raised in Westbridge, Massachusetts."
Harry wanted to bang his head against something hard now. Maybe if he were to crack open his skull, some of his frustration could finally find release from the gaping, gory hole in his head. That witch had to be senile! "I thought we were in Russia now. Why did you speak English to me? You couldn't have known I was from England!"
"Just because I opened up a shop in Russia, it doesn't mean I must speak Russian. This is my shop, and I can speak any language I bloody want!" She exclaimed loudly, a little ticked off by Harry's attitude. "Now, if you are not going to vuy anything, you are velcome to leave my vonderful vaggage shop." She declared pompously with a mock Russian accent just to annoy Harry.
Harry felt bad. He did have a stressful day, but it was no excuse to behave like a complete twat to a stranger. "Look, I didn't mean to be a prick. I just… I just had a bad day. I'm leaving now. Sorry to bother you."
"Wait!"
Harry halted and turned back at the old lady with a stunned look. She had caught his cape with a trembling hand and prevented him from leaving. He was not aware people that old could move this fast. He could've sworn the wrinkly old crone just leaped over the counter with a war cry that rivaled Xena the Warrior Princess, tumbled across the length of the shop, and snatched a fist-full of his cape so fast she seemed but a blur.
"It can't be… Is this, is this genuine?" The old lady breathed in awe as she examined the black fur cape Harry got from Steve Sealclubber.
Harry just realized he forgot to return the cape Sealclubber lent him before he Plot Hole'd himself away from Antarctica. "I'm not sure what you are talking about. Someone lent me this cape in a souvenir shop in Antarctica. I should probably give it back to him next time I see him."
"It is genuine Manbearpig Seal fur found only in Antarctica! Sweet Bejesus! Whoever gave you this cape must have spent a fortune on it!" Sabrina the Century-old Witch squealed. She was so happy, she practically purred into the soft black fur as she rubbed her wrinkly cheeks against it.
Too bad Harry was still in it.
"Oh boy!" The old witch exclaimed excitedly when she felt that there was something hard poking at her face underneath the young man's black fur cape. Curious, she reached under the cape and grabbed a hold of Harry's thick, stiff wand that was half sticking out of his side pocket. "Is that a wand hanging off your hip or are you happy to see me?"
Harry did the only thing an average emo white kid could do in this situation – he shoved the old crone away from him and scrambled backward on all fours while sobbing for his mommy. As he huddled himself in a dusty corner of the shop, rocking back and forth while contemplating cutting himself, he vowed that he shall cast a memory charm on himself to wipe away the last five minutes of his tragic life as soon as he found out how.
He may never get an erection ever again.
Holding Harry's Boner Wand in one hand and his furry black cape in another (Harry had tossed the offending piece of clothing off himself during the struggle), the ancient witch giggled at the traumatized youth's antic. "Young people nowadays should really practice wand safety. Someone should teach you all about protection and accident prevention. You may poke someone's eye out if you leave it sticking out of your pants."
"Please stop… Kill me now… Have mercy…" Our hero sobbed pitifully.
"Tell you what, let me propose a trade." The old witch ignored Harry's mournful tears and took out a small leather pouch from the only glass display case in the shop. "I'll give you this pouch, the best and rarest item in my shop. In exchange, I get to keep this cape. You can use this bottomless, weightless, and multi-purpose magic pouch to store all your stuff, such as your wand. You would be hard pressed to find a wand holster big enough to accommodate your thick, long, meaty wand."
Harry kept on weeping. He did not need to hear her compliments on his wand's girth.
Sabrina the Century-old Witch continued, "Conveniently, this pouch comes with a leather belt, so you can wear this like a fanny pack." The elderly woman strapped the pouch on her waist and demonstrated to the near comatose young man how useful this magical baggage was. She flipped open the front flap of the pouch and dropped Harry's wand into it. "All you need to do is put your hand into the pouch, think of the item you want to retrieve, and you'll get it back." She thrust her hand into the pouch and groped for a moment before fishing out the wand. "See?"
Harry wailed in agony. The imagery of that dried up old crone grabbing the Disco Stick out of the pouch strapped in front of her crotch was enough to cause acute, physical pain.
The old lady went on and explained the background story of the magic pouch. "This pouch may seem small, but it's extremely useful. Because of its great storing capacity, this pouch is known as the Bag of Infinite Holding…" She paused and corrected herself, "Sorry, I mean, Vag of Infinite Holding. That's how they say it in Russian."
Harry may not know anything about the language, but he knew the old witch was doing that just to torment him.
"Bag of Infinite Holding." Harry repeated tonelessly.
"Yes. It's the Vag of Infinite Holding."
Harry sighed. His godfather died, he heard the prophecy, he lost his wand, he became the master of the legendary Boner Wand, and now he was about to become the proud owner of the Vag of Infinite Holding. Great. Just great. Can this day get any more tragic?
"Fine. The cape is yours. Just… stop talking."
Sabrina the Century-old Witch beamed wordlessly and handed him his stuff back.
Harry strapped on the belt and put his pink Boner in the leathery Vag. He wanted, no, needed to go back to Hogwarts now. He had a few people he needed to kill, like the Weasley twins for pulling this bloody prank, and that fraud of a Seer Trelawney.
Naturally, the Plot Hole decided to drop our hero anywhere else but Hogwarts.
A/N: So there you go, Vag of Infinite Holding. True story. There was one time, I was playing D&D with my friends…