Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, sadly (otherwise I would be a billionaire by now, sigh). J.K. Rowling owns all the characters (except maybe a few) and parts of the plot.
Chapter 5 – The Golden Key
Neville displayed a keen interest in the mysterious witch who had quite possibly saved Dean's life, but Dean, grateful for the defences around his house and the witch for fighting the ministry official, did not feel the same urgent curiosity to ponder over the woman's identity. Instead he spent the next few days worrying about his family.
When he was introduced to Mrs Longbottom, who although old was strong and quite forceful, Dean wondered how he could have ever mistaken the witch as Neville's grandmother. She had moved with a certain fluidity which could only be attributed to youth.
Though Dean was constantly entertained by Mrs Longbottom's eccentric but delicious cooking and Neville's interesting but lethal collection of plants in the backyard, he gradually grew more homesick and his yearning to be able to return to Hogwarts grew stronger as well as his desire to see Seamus again. Being locked up in a house all day, albeit with a good companion, was giving way to immense boredom and was certainly not how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
"I'm sorry Dean, gran said it'd be safer if you stayed indoors," said Neville, five days after Dean had arrived and Neville had realised his grandmother forgot to get him his muggle studies books which had become a compulsory subject.
"But I haven't seen the sun since five days ago!" said Dean, whose temper had worsened.
"Yeah, when there were dementors standing right around the corner! No, I'm not risking it, besides the fact that gran will kill me. I can get my books from Diagon Alley myself."
"Please Neville, just take me with you before I die of boredom."
"Trust me, there will be death eaters there, you'll die anyway."
"Exactly, then let me go, I don't think death eaters will be on the lookout for muggle-born boys specifically anyway."
"No, but it's part of their job, and with school beginning in five days, they've bound to increase their numbers in case Harry turns up."
"As if Harry's going to go shopping at Diagon Alley."
"Still, they need every chance they've got."
"No, I'm not listening to you, you know I can't stay in your house forever, I'm going with you no matter what you say. Besides, where is your gran anyway?"
Neville avoided Dean's face, "She's probably sleeping in."
"No she's not, I heard her leave this morning."
Neville, whose face was flushed and looked furious said, "Oh alright, she's gone to visit a friend."
"Good, then no one will know that I left."
"No one said you were going to leave!"
A short silence followed, and Dean resigned, Neville was right of course, it would be utterly stupid to walk into the midst of Death Eaters right now. There was something, though, perhaps in the defeated expression of Dean, but suddenly, before Dean could talk, Neville stuck his head under his bed and struggled for a good five minutes, stretching his arm to reach something buried just out of his reach. Afterwards he dragged something out of the darkness, his face a bit flustered, and handed it to Dean.
It was a silvery grey fabric which felt cool and slippery to touch. In some areas it was more worn and so there were patches where the fabric was thinning and there were places where the weaving of the fabric had loosened to produce small holes. Despite its tatty state it somehow looked quite durable and strong.
"It's an invisibility cloak, used to my dad's," mumbled Neville.
"Wow, are you going to lend it to me?"
"Yes."
"Thought you said I was going to be killed by Death Eaters."
"And if you do then I will hold you entirely responsible."
"Good, I'll take my chances."
"You sure? As far as I'm concerned, dying of boredom sounds much less painful than being murdered."
"Have you ever been bored for so long in your life?"
"Oh shut up Dean, before it becomes offensive," warned Neville, who was beginning to smile, "is my house really that bad?"
Dean decided it was a rhetorical question, he pulled the cloak over himself, which proved to be quite a nice fit, covering his whole body and leaving bit resting on the floor. He walked outside into the empty hall and stood in front of the mirror which hung between the doors of the guest room and the lounge room. Though he was expecting it, it was still quite starting to see no reflection of him in the mirror. Neville followed after him and examined Dean carefully.
"Hmm, the fabric has thinned and loosened so that some of your hair sticks through it, looks a bit suspicious, but I suppose you wouldn't see it unless you were looking for it. And…" Neville surveyed Dean, making him rotate every now and then, "you can see a bit of your jeans here, but it's very faint, I guess it'll pass."
Dean took another look at the mirror and could not find anything that Neville had just pointed out.
"Come on then, I'd rather have this quick and over and done with," said Neville dragging Dean's arm so that they were at the door.
"How are we getting there?"
"Well, I've never apparated to Diagon Alley without gran, and I don't want to appear in the middle of Death Eaters if it goes wrong…"
"We can apparate to the Leaky Cauldron first if you want to be safer, that's how I get there."
"That sounds good, though I've never tried it before, are you sure it's safe?"
"Just trust me," sighed Dean, he draped the cloak over Neville as well, "just in case," he added.
Dean envisioned the Leaky Cauldron in his mind, and with a crack they were gone.
-
"Good lord! What was that?" cried the shop owner who ran to the shop front to find out what had made the deafening 'crack' a few seconds ago.
"Oops," whispered Dean, as he realised where they were.
"Whose there?" asked the shop owner.
The walls of the small bookshop were covered from ceiling to floor with book shelves laden with all sorts of books. There was also a table in the middle of the shop which also supported numerous books, some stacked in piles, others propped up. Dean had accidentally apparated them to the bookshop next to the Leaky Cauldron.
Without making any more sounds, the two of them tiptoed lightly out onto the street, leaving the shop owner looking quite dazed.
The streets were filled with people but none of them seemed to pay any attention to the shabby pub wedged against a book store and a record shop. Dean and Neville made their way into the pub, sometimes receiving curious glances from passers-by when they pushed past them. The interior of the setting was none the more glamorous and indeed had had better days. It was much emptier since the last time Dean had been there and the atmosphere was soaked in a strong sense of melancholy.
The pair made their way silently to the walled courtyard at the back, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds. Dean slipped the cloak off Neville, whose face had gone pale.
"What's wrong?" asked Dean.
"There was a death eater in there, Dolohov, I remembered him from the Department of Mysteries," whispered Neville, "I knew this was a bad idea from the start, I shouldn't have let you come with me."
"Well I'm not going back now," replied Dean firmly.
Neville looked up at him, "Alright, but I'm not going to let you enter Diagon Alley."
"What?! But that's what I came for!" retorted Dean.
"I know," said Neville, whose voice was rising beyond a whisper now, "but what if there are more death eaters in there? No, I'm not going to take any more risks, you're going to wait for me inside the Leaky Cauldron, ok?" There was a new found authority in Neville's voice and Dean, with a sigh, realised that he was right, knowing that he was just metres away from a death eater was not a comforting thought.
"Fine," said Dean, defeated by logic and reasoning. He turned to re-enter the pub.
"Wait, how do I get to Diagon Alley from here?" asked Neville.
Dean took out his wand from his jean pocket and tapped the wall with his wand, a hole began to wriggle and grow larger from the point of contact, and soon there was a gateway large enough for entry into the wizarding world beyond.
"Take care," whispered Neville, as he stepped through and Dean entered the pub glumly once again.
When he walked into the pub again, the only patrons he saw were a group of ladies chatting solemnly in the corner of the pub furthest away from him. There was no sign of any death eater, or man, for that matter.
Dean sat at the table furthest away from the counter and the group of ladies and sat in quiet reflection. Not long after however, Dean saw a man enter the pub, he was wearing a full length black robe and his head was hidden beneath a hood which hung well below his forehead, shadowing his eyes. A few strands of tan coloured hair were all that was visible beneath the hood. The man walked in wobbly long strides and reached the counter. As Dean's eyes followed him, he discovered a figure that he hadn't noticed before, hunched on the far side of the counter and hidden in the shadows. This man's face was long, pale and gaunt. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair, this was possibly the death eater Neville had mentioned.
As if hearing his thoughts, Dolohov looked up from his drink and for a minute seemed to stare right where Dean was sitting. A moment later, he got up from his seat and walked towards Dean's table. Dean froze and forced himself to take small, light breaths to reduce any sound he emitted, however, his heart was threatening to leap out and the sound of every beat echoed in his ears. Dolohov was two tables away from Dean's seat when suddenly the man with the tan coloured hair was standing beside Dean and took the seat opposite him. It seemed that he had only taken one long stride from the counter to the table. Dolohov, annoyed, took a seat at the table nearest to him and resumed an expression of detachment.
Dean kept a lookout on Dolohov from the corner of his eye, however the death eater was rather unperturbed and after a while left the pub. Whatever had made him approach Dean's table did not seem to be Dean.
The man who was now seated opposite Dean spent a long time looking through Dean, and Dean had the unpleasant feeling that the man could see him. He wondered if it was his hair or the patch of jeans that gave him away. Nonetheless, it felt like a long time and there was a possibility that the man now sitting across him was a death eater as well. With a shock Dean realised that perhaps that was why Dolohov had left. Maybe they were keeping watch on every aspect of Diagon Alley and Dolohov's shift had ended.
But the man finished three drinks and with his long wobbly strides, left the pub without a sound. Oddly enough, he had spent the entire time looking at Dean, or the chair where he sat. Dean's gaze followed the man once again, but his eye got caught on something shiny which was resting on the seat that the man had occupied. It was a tiny golden key.
Dean looked at the pub entrance, but there was no more sight of the man. Instead, he picked up the key and held it in his hand, concealing it beneath his cloak. The metal against his hand was cool, Dean turned it over and began a scrutiny of the key but before he got far, he heard footsteps behind him. The key was stuffed quickly in his pocket.
Neville was clutching some books in his hands and gave Dean a peculiar gaze. He moved his head, indicating that they should leave, however he directed this to the left of Dean which looked amusing, but the novelty of the moment soon passed. As Dean got up from his seat, he put one hand on Neville's shoulder to show where he was and they exited the pub without a word.
Outside where the streets were noisier and bits of conversation floated in the atmosphere, Dean asked Neville how he'd known where he was.
"Well it was the furthest one from the counter and the ladies, I thought it would be the most ideal seat." Said Neville, Dean nodded, knowing that Neville couldn't see him.
"Did Dolohov do anything?"
"No, he left after a while."
"Good."
"Do you need all those books for Muggle Studies?" asked Dean, referring to the pile of books Neville was carrying with some difficulty.
"No, most of them are to do with herbology, I got a bit carried away, that's why I was late," said Neville, blushing slightly.
"You weren't late," reassured Dean, who could relate Neville's passion with his idolization of the West Ham football team.
They walked till they turned a corner into a deserted alleyway. Dean draped the cloak over Neville and together, they apparated.
-
When they returned home it was a relief that Mrs Longbottom had not gotten back yet. Neville set about reading his new books in the lounge room, while Dean, complaining that he was tired, said he was going back to sleep as it was still the morning. When he closed the door to Neville's room, Dean folded the cloak and placed it next to Neville's bed, then he took out the key.
It was one of those old-fashioned keys, the ones that appear in fairytales and stories, not the ones in the modern muggle-world. Dean knew it had to have something to do with the wizarding world, but there were many items that had locks. He had come to the conclusion that the man had left it purposely behind. It was placed in the exact centre of the seat where it was in clear view of Dean, and Dean had not seen anything drop or fall from the man's body when he got up.
Though Dean hadn't given much thought to past events, the protective enchantments, the witch and now the golden key were mysteries that were beginning to frustrate him as he lay on the mattress in a position of relative tranquility.