Chapter 5: Minerva's Big Day: The Bookshop
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any affiliated trademarks. If I did, I would give them to Terry Pratchett, Neil Stephenson, Eliezer Yudkowsky, Tom Holt & Iain M Banks and say 'make something out of this, please'. Nor do I own any other material you may recognise from other sources. Of course, what you don't recognise may be mine, but may also belong to someone you never heard of. There, I think that covers it. Enjoy.
A/N: Okay, so the results are in for the idea of writing a sequel now. There were a few no's, one very vehement no (politely answered, mind you), a few yeses and a maybe. Pfeil's maybe decided it. I won't be writing that sequel, i'm afraid. I will, however, be working on one for future writing. But hey, you can always look forward to more of this, you know. And now, onwards!
'House elves are one of the few magical species known to have been purposefully created by wizards. They came into being following Thelonious The Mad's research into magically enhanced cleaning equipment-' Hermione just shook her head as she leafed through the strange book. What she'd seen of the books on offer in the magical world so far had both thrilled and exasperated her. How an entire culture could be simultaneously brilliant enough to have close to a million books for sale in the one bookshop yet be stupid enough not to include even a chapter summary for her textbooks was beyond her. Then again, she was in a world that had somehow created a whole new species when researching how to build the magical version of a vacuum cleaner. If she were sentimental, that fact alone would make her want to cry and tear off the shackles of the poor, downtrodden, three foot nothing magical maids.
She replaced 'House elves-why it ISN'T slavery' on its shelf and turned her attention back to the task at hand. The section on wizarding culture was tiny compared to the other subjects on offer, barely breaching a thousand tomes. And yet, it was supposed to cover everything anyone wanted to find out about the wizarding world. There were tomes on recent history, political ideologies, wizarding economy (Harry'd laughed at 'The goblins; banking from Hell'), common law, wizarding traditions, family histories... the sheer scope of information contained in this one section alone was staggering. And yet, there was nothing really useful to a beginner. It was almost like everyone had been too eager to address just one aspect of Magical Britain in-depth and had completely forgotten to write a book that would allow those not blessed with massive amounts of inherited knowledge to actually find out what they needed to. But at least there was something useful there.
The section containing all the magical books written on wizarding math was, to put it kindly, mediocre. For a young girl already bravely storming the shores of calculus, arithmancy and magical geometry were almost too easy. They considered Numerology an actual mathematically valid field! The numbers were guesswork, for crying out loud! Mom had been particularly scathing when delving into the advanced arithmantic principles section, muttering about how gormless one had to be to settle for matrix-based statistical forecasting when dealing with spells. There was almost nothing written down on the physics behind the Force. Hermione could tell there were rules to how 'magic' was supposed to work, she'd seen them in action and interacted with the Force often enough to recognise what kind of reaction a particular action would provoke. How could they expect people to actually use arithmancy to predict what effect a 'spell' will have if they have no theoretical reference point to base that prediction on? All they're doing is modelling the spell's outcome without providing information on how to model its origins.
Questions like where the Force comes from, how it interacts with various types of conduits, what variables affect the Force, none of these questions were answered in any of the books she'd picked up. The best reference she'd found was a 17th-century 'how-to' guide for spell-crafting and curse-breaking procedures, and even then it amounted to 'magic comes from thingy, is stored by whatsit and is somehow channelled from point A to point B'. The few physics books on display were all university textbooks dating back 20 years and all buried in the references section for a subject called 'muggle studies'.
Harry and Mom were in agreement with her; normal science books, though inaccurate if the existence of the Force is taken at face value, were better for the more advanced contents available. At the very least she could advance the field of arithmancy immeasurably if she were to apply some of the fuzzier math to spells analysis.
She signalled Mom that she was ready to move on and go through a new section, the books she wanted about wizarding culture and traditions weighing heavily in the basket she was clutching. She moved over to check on her Apprentice.
"Harry..." The boy turned around to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She looked at the book he was clutching in his hands. Great Wizarding events of the twentieth century. She smiled at him. "Good book, then?" Wordlessly, he handed her the book, finger firmly placed on a page near the back. She skimmed the title at the top of the page, her expression quizzical. "The end of the 'Blood' War- the legend of The Boy Who Lived..." Which is when her gaze took in the black & white picture underneath the introductory paragraph. A couple was smiling, a young toddler held up between the two. That was another oddity she'd come across, magical pictures in books were animated to display a ten second loop. The Force weaves were simple, yet incredibly complex in their interactions with each other and she'd yet to actually try and think about how one worked in-depth. In this picture, the parents mouthed something that looked like 'smile' or 'cheese', grinned like lunatics at the picture and then hauled the toddler into the air. The man looked incredibly familiar to her. After the loop started again, she shifted her gaze to the caption underneath the photo and gasped.
James Potter, 20, Harry Potter, 1, Lily Evans-Potter, 20, picture taken at Hogwarts class of 1977 reunion, Hogsmeade, August 1980 (last known family picture).
She went back to skimming the page.
'September to October 1981 marked the bloodiest phase of the Wizarding War. The estimated casualties over that two month period was higher than the combined total of the previous six months of intensive campaigning by Ministry forces against the terrorist organisation known colloquially as Death Eaters. Three major battles took places during this period, namely the Dunhill raid, the Knight Bus Depot ambush and the fourteenth Hogsmeade massacre. Total wizarding casualties are estimated at around the two and a half thousand mark, with over one thousand seven hundred wizarding civilians caught in the crossfire. Of these, approximately five hundred remains were identified as being under the age of ten, though at the time of publication only around two hundred have been positively identified as children of wizarding descent. Ministry and Death Eater casualties are considered to be at parity. By the end of October 1981, the ministry was no longer technically able to enforce martial law across the British Isles.'
'With a total force of four hundred hit wizards and one hundred and fifty Aurors able to dispense their duties by September the first 1981, the total number of combat-capable wizards had been halved since the official start of hostilities on January 17th 1979. By November the first, that number had been halved again. No longer able to pursue their primary responsibility, it is unlikely that the Ministry of Magic would have survived the winter season. Therefore, the reactions following the events of Halloween 1981 are perfectly understandable in hindsight.'
'The Dark Lord he-who-must-not-be-named (name redacted by Ministry classifications board) attacked a small cottage on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow, Wales. The actual events within the House remain a mystery to this day. What is known, however, is that the attack cost the lives of James Potter, age 21, Lily Evans-Potter, age 21 and the Dark Lord, age unknown. The sole survivor was one Harry James Potter, aged one and a half (appr.) who, after medical examination following the attack, was found to have survived the killing curse. A one year old child had saved Wizarding Britain from a new Dark Age. The news was greeted with much euphoria and breaches of the Statute of Secrecy (see appendix for references on the so-called Celebration Trials), though the follow-up investigation revealed no significant reason for the survival of the child. Following the Longbottom Manor Raid on November second 1981, Harry James Potter, now known as the Boy Who Lived, disappeared. It is as yet unknown as to whether or not he has survived to enjoy the peace his sacrifice and the sacrifice of his parents brought to Wizarding Britain.'
"This is the first time i've seen a picture of them, you know". She looked into his green eyes, filled with pain she had never seen in those orbs. "He-he looks so much like me..." Was all he got out before she hugged him. Mom turned around, wondering what all the fuss was about. After receiving a questioning glance, Hermione handed the book over to her. She gasped as she read the page, eyes watering as she looked at the crying form buried in her daughter's shoulder. He pulled away. "I'm sorry." He sniffed "I seem to have ruined your outfit."
She smiled at him. "Oh Harry, it's okay." Her friend nodded at her and smiled back. "Now come on, this place still has loads more stuff we need to check out." They found McGonnagall near the end of the section, still dabbing at her eyes as they drew up to her. Clearly, she'd been keeping an eye on them. "You look awfully tired, Professor. Are you okay?"
Minerva just nodded at her. "Yes, yes. It's just these allergies acting up, you know" she sniffed "terrible time for 'em, ye ken." Hermione just nodded at her, not missing the sad look she threw towards Harry when he wasn't looking her way. The old woman smiled "Now then, anything else you want to have a look at, young lady?"
Both of the children brightened at the prospect. "Fiction!" They said at practically the same time. The two adults chuckled at that.
The group's trek through the magical creatures section had been... interesting. It was hard to consider it boring, at the very least. The massive rack of shelves they passed through boasted titles such as 'Dragons! And how to avoid them', 'Arrakian Worms and their quirks', 'Scamander's guide on how to not get eaten' and 'Nundus; terrors of the Serengeti', after all. And if that weren't enough, there were always the odd books that tried to jump into the baskets, nip at prising fingers and ambush unsuspecting hat-wearers. Minerva had, after much deliberation and being slobbered on by a book on the care of Crup puppies, decided to put her foot down and shooed the three rubbernecks through at top speed. Though the encyclopaedia of Dark creatures defending its territory definitely helped in increasing their browsing speed a fair bit, it still took them five minutes to reach the Fiction section. The two adults left them to their own devices, handing both of them maps and telling them to meet them at the counter in half an hour.
Hermione and Harry entered the section on children's fiction cautiously, the bruises given to them by the Bicorn compendium having left them a bit weary of approaching shelves they weren't completely familiar with. Hermione just browsed the titles, slightly disappointed at what she found. Not one science fiction book in sight, anywhere. After fifteen minutes of browsing up and down shelves, leafing through promising titles and gawking at strange covers, there wasn't a single mention on space travel, other worlds or even underwater adventures.
There was, however, a remarkably wide selection of what would have passed for science fiction back in the days of Jules Verne; tales of mad Muggle scientists, airships, heroic wizards rescuing damsels from crude-looking bunkers, most of them boasting magical gadgets that had been in use in the normal world for decades. Hermione wondered why steam engines seemed such a fantastic idea to the children of wizarding Britain. Didn't they know that such technology had been out of use since the end of the second world war? Why did they consider locomotives such a radical idea?
Harry, on the other hand, was having a different problem altogether. Almost every third book they came across boasted titles such as 'Harry Potter and the Sons of Morgana', 'the Boy-Who-Lived and the revenge of the muggle savages' or 'Harry and the Demented Dragon Farm'. He was confused. Just where did they get these stories from? Why did they use his name in such a weird manner? And Dragons? He had never even seen a Dragon in real life, not that he'd say no to being able to see one up close. In his opinion, they were the next best thing to dinosaurs and, therefore, the Coolest Thing Ever. And here was a book describing how he'd slaughtered hundreds of the beasts at age five. What did they think he was, a monster? The most heroic thing he'd done at that age was finish cleaning the flower beds in under two hours, not kill innocent creatures for some badly defined reason! "Hermione."
The girl turned around to look at her study partner. "Yes?"
"I think it's time to formulate a hypothesis about the wizarding world."
She looked over at him, genuinely curious. "And? What is your hypothesis, oh studious one?" He looked her in the eye, mirth dancing in both their eyes.
"They're mad. All of them. The wizarding world is insane." Hermione smiled and dropped into a stance of mock thoughtfulness, stroking her chin with her thumb and gesturing for him to continue. "I mean, first there was all that fuss at Ollivander's, this weird shopping district, the bank... you have to admit, they're not really all there up there, are they?" She chuckled, not really able to keep up the pretense any longer.
"Alright, young one. Good points, you have." she said, clearly enjoying her little Yoda-ism for the day. "But every hypothesis needs a counter hypothesis, an opposite if you will, for it to be testable. And the counter hypothesis is-" dramatic pose "-that these wizards are the sane ones, and that we're the mad people!" Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. Trust Hermione to come up with something so blatantly untrue. "But now" she said, expression mock thoughtful once again "we need to test it."
Wordlessly, Harry handed her a book titled 'Harry Potter and the beings from Australia'. It had a picture of a muscle-bound ten year old, clutching a bloody sword and standing on top a pile of things with teeth. "Look at this. I seem to be into leather pants, humungous swords and 'buxom' wenches." Hermione's grin threatened to take her head off. "I don't know whether I am being flattered or insulted here. I think I will have to look up what buxom means to figure it out. And wenches. Say, do you know what wenches are, Hermione?" She couldn't help it, she really couldn't. Laughter. Floor rolling. Harry's work was done. "So, insane. Valid hypothesis?" She nodded. "Oh yes, definitely" He smiled at his bushy-haired friend and companion, indicating her to take the lead in scouting out other book shelves.
"Errm, excuse me?" Harry whirled around, surprise at being blindsided written on his face. The offender recoiled under the stare, wondering whether it was a good idea to approach these two. It was a child around Harry's age, pudgy build, brown hair and a disposition that clearly said that he desperately wanted to be anywhere but in front of the worryingly intense gaze the kid with the worn clothing and ridiculous hat was subjecting him to. "I-I'm lost. Can you help me? I'm looking for the Potions and Alchemy section". Harry's gaze softened at that. No doubt this was a fellow new-comer, oddly dressed to blend in with the crazies. "Hermione, can you please come here for a second?" Harry called over to the browsing brunette. She sighed, put the book down and came over, expression demanding an explanation. "This kid is looking for the Potions section."
She looked over at the squirming pre-teen, questions running through her head. Why didn't he ask an adult? Why was he in the Fiction section when academic subjects were generally on the other side of the store? What is his name? Time to find out... She smiled at the shy boy. "Hello" she said, noting the abashed look her smile elicited. "Correct me if i'm wrong, but your name wouldn't be Rincewind, by any chance, would it?" Harry shot her an angry gaze, a frustrated 'Hermioneee, behave' escaping his mouth. "What? He certainly looks like a Rincewind to me." She said, fake smile growing wider at his exasperated growl.
The younger boy looked at her questioningly. "Rincewind? No, my name's Neville-Neville Longbottom." He said, a nervous smile breaking through the worried frown he'd sported seconds ago. "Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand. Hermione shook it, a mumbled 'likewise' accompanying the gesture. Harry followed up with the same procedure. "My grand-uncle always says to shake hands when you first meet muggle-borns. Says it's polite." Harry and Hermione exchanged significant looks. This was the first 'wizarding' child the two had actually had time to talk to. In other words, he'd just volunteered to be their test-bed.
"Huh" Hermione said. "I was sure that you were from the normal world, like us." The Longbottom kid bristled at the statement before calming himself and smiling at her. "Why" he asked "would you believe that?".
Harry cut in. "Oh, it's just that we would expect a wizard-born to know their way around here better than we do. Not to mention that a wizard-born would know where to find-" he said, brandishing a colourful-looking piece of paper "- a map. Hence why we took you for one of us back there."
"No, I mean -" he said, clearly struggling with expressing himself correctly. "- why would you think us wizards weren't normal? I mean, we're people too, you know?" oh, he was getting into his stride now. "And I don't get out a lot, which is why I get lost in bookshops. But why do you think we're not normal?"
The two looked at the flustered boy confronting them in the middle of a section on magical sports. "Well Neville," Hermione said "This is all so new to us, you know. Nothing we've seen so far is really normal from where we come from. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me..."
Neville snorted at that, any shyness gone from his features. Harry decided to step in. "Look Neville, we really didn't mean to come across as rude back there, but this is the first time we've set foot in the magical world. And you're the first wizarding child to actually take the time to approach us. From your perspective, we might as well be tourists from France or some other foreign country."
Hermione nodded, though she clearly needed to explain the concept of foreign to her Apprentice in more detail later on. "That's right. Not to mention that Diagon Alley is a bit... eccentric, shall we say? I mean, you have the odd-looking buildings-"
"-the full-size pyramid perched on the roof back there-"
"-the floating mimes-"
"-that odd man selling yellow and purple sausages-"
"-the hags selling body parts in broad daylight-"
"-the cat juggler-"
"-not to mention the organ 'donation'-" she said, air quoting for good measure "-store-"
"-that shop selling flying broomsticks-"
"- the cauldron shop selling solid gold cauldrons-"
"-Needless to say, it's a bit much for us. Nothing like what we expected, you know. And this" Harry said, indicating the store in general and 'Quidditch through the ages' in particular. "Is filled with things we've never even heard of! I mean, it's great, but we need time to get used to it."
"Ah, I understand." Neville said, clearly not understanding very well. "Is it like when I go to the muggle world and see that metal slug ferry underground, the massive brooms flying above and that cathedral-looking building with the giant clock out front?" Hermione, twitching to correct the boy, reined in her innate desire for accuracy and just nodded at him. "Then I do understand." The boy said. "Your normal is not my normal, right?" Both heads nodded as the trio started walking again. "And it will probably become normal to you over time, right?" Again, the nods came. "Then don't worry about it. Once we finish Hogwarts, all this will be normal to you too."
Harry, privately disagreeing with that statement, merely asked. "Why would that be? And how do you know that we are going to Hogwarts? We only found out a few hours ago" though it felt like a lifetime ago "so how did you know?"
Neville just smiled shyly at the two while Harry pulled Hermione away from the history of submarine hockey section. "Well, you wouldn't be here unless you or one of your relatives went to Hogwarts, not to mention that you are both carrying complete sets of Hogwarts books" he said, indicating the baskets the two were lugging around. "and you are trying to talk to me in a friendly manner. Though, between you and me, you need to work harder on that. As for this being normal-" Neville said, in the haughty aristocratic drawl his grandmother had coached him on for years "-let's just say that you haven't seen anything yet." The trio walked in silence, Harry and Hermione contemplating what their little window into the wizarding world was telling them and Neville being in awe at the daring he'd displayed in front of the two muggleborn.
Harry looked at the section they'd stopped in front of, cross-referencing the shelf number with the map in his hands. "Aaand here we are!" He said, waving a hand in direction of the books. "Potions, Alchemy and... Chemistry, surprisingly. Here-" he handed the map over to their first wizarding acquaintance "-Hermione's got a spare one, and the nice lady at the counter can give you one if you need it, okay?" Longbottom smiled at them, mouthing a quick thank you before looking at the shelves. "I guess this is goodbye until next year, then."
Neville just shifted guiltily, a sad look on his face. "Yeah, next year... Say, I didn't catch your names back there." The two exchanged a look that made the pudgy kid in front of them a tad nervous again, all previous bravado gone at the sly grins that stretched across their faces. The girl went first. "My name" she said, striking a pose for effect "is Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you."
The boy stepped forward. "And I" he said, lifting the brim of his fedora to display a scar just above his right eyelid. Neville gasped. The scar. It was the scar! "Am Harry Potter. See you later, Neville Longbottom. Until we meet again..." And at that, the two strange children sauntered away, laughing at poor Neville's reaction.
"What?" The pudgy boy repeated to himself over and over again, a dumbfounded looking lodged so deeply on his face it might as well be paying rent. "What?"
"Had fun, you two?" Sarah asked, smiling at her two mischievous charges. The way those two were grinning... Minerva was scanning the store, looking like she was trying to determine which parts of it were currently on fire. She herself was itching to ask just what the two had done to merit such a devious-looking smirk, but she did not really want to know anymore. She sighed. Those two had been more trouble in the past few hours than they'd been in the past four years.
"Oh yes. It was... educational" Harry said, the uncharacteristic smirk and attitude telling her that yes, she really didn't want to know at this point. "Did you know that I was a celebrity in wizarding Britain? That fiction section was... interesting." Hermione's grin merely widened.
"Oh dear God." Minerva muttered to herself, though not quietly enough that Sarah missed it. "Just what have I done?" Sarah couldn't help but sympathise with the poor Professor. If this was what a couple of hours would do to little Harry, normally polite and self-effacing to a fault, she was very glad indeed that she wasn't there to witness what he would be like during his Hogwarts years. Though, looking at Hermione, she wondered which of the two Hellions was more likely to introduce Wizarding Britain to the wonders of atomic warfare.
She knew her daughter, oh yes. She hadn't missed how her and Harry got along, with Hermione helping Harry with his life and Harry waiting on her hand and foot in exchange. And right now, the calculating look she was giving the only friend Sarah had ever heard her making did not bode well for the future. Sarah could always count on Harry to rein her in when she was being rude, or bossy, or flinging her contempt at people that annoyed her in their face. And if worst came to worst, Harry would defend her, tooth and nail. If he stopped doing that... if he joined her... she started to get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Hogwarts was a bad idea for the two of them. But anyway-
"Find any good books, dears?" The lady manning the counter asked the two. She received to bulging baskets full of books, so full in fact that the expansion and featherlight charms were failing under the stress. "Oh my, why you two must really enjoy books then!" the elderly witch said enthusiastically. Sarah could practically hear the witch tallying what probably amounted to her weekly salary in books inside her head with a beatific expression. She processed the books, tapping her wand on a stone tablet bordered by runic symbols Sarah's University mates would have killed to get their hands on. Finally, after a few minutes' worth of tapping and pinging sounds, a mist rose from the tablet and formed themselves into a set of numbers above the counter. "Ah!" the lady intoned "That's 115 galleons and eleven sickles, gents! And some complimentary carry bags for the four of you." Harry wordlessly dipped his hands into the pouch, retrieved three sacks & eleven silver coins and handed them over to the pleased witch. "Thank you, young man. And please come again! If you ever need anything, ask for Alicia Pince, okay? I'd be glad to assist you." The group nodded their thanks and stepped into the afternoon sunshine.
Vapour from the excess heat of noon was rising off the pentagonal cobblestones, the smells of the Alley intermixing with the smell of gasoline coming from the road less than fifty metres behind the book store. The lunchtime crowds were thinning out and the various entertainers, thugs, hooligans and crazies that distracted the tourists and wizards going for a bite to eat were lounging around, enjoying their own break from the frenetic weirdness they produced in the alley. Sarah shifted the weight of the book bag around, idly gazing at the hovering mimes enjoying a quiet smoke outside a pink teashop of some kind. They hadn't bothered turning off whatever they used for hovering, as both them and the table they occupied were currently suspended three feet above ground while the owner of the store levitated their orders up to them. She shook herself, determined to keep an open mind despite all the weirdness she'd witnessed today, and caught up with the group.
"So what now?" Her daughter asked, looking tired from the day she'd had. In fact, she looked almost as tired as Sarah felt. Almost. Sarah eyed the list she had taken to carrying after Harry almost lost it outside the trunk shop, ticking off everything that her daughter needed to go to Hogwarts. Books, check. Wand, check. Clothes, check. Trunk- she looked over at Professor McGonnagall, who'd done the sensible thing and stashed her part of the book caravan inside a wood and leather box on wheels- check. Cauldron, check. Potions and magical gardening supplies, check. Broom- no, no broom for first years, so check. Sarah looked up, surprised. Everything they'd needed to buy was now bought. Their shopping trip was finally done with. She almost jumped with joy. Next year, no matter what, she was dragging Kyle with her. See how he enjoyed being bodily thrown down the bloody rabbit hole for a change.
"Now, my dear." Sarah said "It's time for your birthday." And there was much rejoicing. "Professor, do you want to stay and enjoy a piece of cake before going back to Hogwarts?" The witch smiled at her, nodding her head to indicate that yes, she really needed to relax before going back to her school. "Alright then. Hermione, can you and Harry Displace the two of us please? We're feeling a bit peaked right now."
The last she saw of Diagon Alley that year was her daughter's happy smile and clutching hand. "Love to Mum." And then she got squeezed through the fabric of time and space again. Wasn't magic fun?
Aftermath: The presents
Minerva was stretched out on the couch she'd passed out on earlier that day, her teacher's hat lying on the table while she tried to find an excuse for taking off the conical paper thing they'd replaced it with. She sighed as she reminded herself of what she was, took out her wand and transfigured it into something more presentable. Odd, the hat stayed conical. She must be more tired than she thought.
She eyed the two children sitting together, going back over the thoughts she'd had when meeting them. The girl was clearly very intelligent, observant and shrewd. The boy was as well, though he was also a lot more aware of what to say and how to say it. It was clear to her that those two were more than mere friends. They weren't quite brother and sister, but their relationship was far deeper than they let on. Minerva sighed. She shouldn't be surprised, she really shouldn't. They acted as if they were alone in the world, one having only eyes for the other. Idly, she wondered when they'd realise that they weren't just friends any more. Or if they already did realise this.
Hermione was everything Minerva looked for in a student; studious, determined and a bit (okay, a lot) more stubborn than her peers. But she was also... prickly. She had a lot of her father in her, from the small amount of time Minerva had talked to the man. She didn't react to unexpected change that well, and took it out on Harry or on whatever aspect of the changes offended her. No, that wasn't quite right. She didn't like being scared of new things, and what Minerva had seen of the girl told the old witch that Hermione was scared of... something. Maybe not to do with the wizarding world, but it was definitely associated with it. As for her friend...
Harry Potter. It had been nine years since the day of the doorstep, as she'd come to call it. Nine years of worrying about the son of two of her most brilliant charges. How she'd allowed Dumbledore to do what he'd done, she honestly couldn't figure out. And, according to things Hermione and Sarah had let slip during their trip and the way Harry acted around people, she could tell that she'd made the wrong decision that day.
Death Eaters would only kill the boy. By the looks of things, those Muggles had come close to destroying him. She shuddered to think of what he had gone through, was still going through if Minerva had heard right.
And yet, here he was, all smiles and politeness. Laughing with Sarah and Hermione at Kyle's antics, drinking tea and eating biscuits like there was no tomorrow. If anything, the boy was a very good actor. She wondered how Severus would react when she told him that he was everything he'd look for in a Slytherin. And here he was, handing a muggleborn what looked like-
"Harry, where did you find those?" The young boy startled, a worried look crossing his face at her astonished tone. Hermione looked at him questioningly, a curious glint in her eye.
"Well, while Hermione was being fitted for a wand, I went to explore Ollivander's shop." He said thinking about how to broach the subject. "And there-there was this door..." And so he told them about the back of Ollivander's shop, the weird books, the amazing sights through the window, the jewels on display, those two watches, another Ollivander fitting a scary boy called Riddle with a wand like his own-
"Riddle?" the elderly witch asked, face paling at what the boy had just said. Was he saying-
"Yes, and he was scary! That look- his eyes..." Harry clamped up. "Anyway, so I ran out back to the front after that. And then Ollivander fitted me with a wand and there was that discussion... I forgot to pay him for these" indicating a stack of absolutely priceless artifacts casually offered to his best friend as a birthday gift. "But I will go back tomorrow and pay him! I swear, Professor I didn't mean to forget!"
The old witch forced a worried smile on her face. "Don't worry Harry. Ollivander wouldn't want payment for these if you tried. It seems that they've found their rightful owners."
Hermione looked down at the beautiful watch now adorning her left wrist, a calculating look on her face. "What do you mean, Professor?"
Minerva just shook her head. "Not my place to tell you, lass. Just... just take very good care of these, please. That watch alone is worth more money than Harry had in his vault." Now it was Hermione's turn to look astonished. She turned to her sheepish-looking friend and caught him in a bear hug, muffled 'thank yous' and 'best birthday present ever' reaching his befuddled ears.
Sarah and Kyle drifted back into the room, utterly oblivious to what had just transpired. Harry and Hermione completely forgot about the discussion, thanks to the placating power of cake. Minerva munched away, thoughts whirling around just why so many odd things seemed to happen around these two.
And, in the back of her mind, she knew that, no matter what the future held for those two, Minerva would be glad to help them get there. They would do great things. And Minerva swore to herself that she would try and keep the 'terrible' to a minimum, a feat her predecessor had badly failed at. She wondered if Sarah still had more of that cake...
A/N: Surprise Longbottom! Weren't expecting that, were you? For those wondering why Neville is a bit more forward than in canon, he isn't. It's just that the terrible duo pushed his buttons and had it been, say, Ron or Draco, it would have ended in a fist fight. Neville, being the shy introvert of the early series, is as passive as his pride allowed him to be with the two tourists bad-mouthing his country. And so concludes this arc, wonderful thing that it is. Up next, we have chapter six, featuring interludes and train rides! Stay tuned...