Pale in the Shadows
Part II Unfortunate Spell – Chapter 9 Diagon Alley
About: First impressions are meaningful.
Note: Sorry how long it took me to get this up! It's been a crazy time with training and work. Hope you enjoy this chapter and its extensive length.
NOTE ABOUT MAGICK: There are actually a few ways to spell 'magic' the most popular being with a 'c' at the end; however, the idea is that 'magic' refers to that of stage magicians through illusionary skill and 'magick' relates to spell work of the fantasy-nature (basically magick is the fictitious sort—though many neo-pagans also prefer to use this spelling to differentiate their magick from stage magic). For these reasons, I choose to spell it with a 'ck' at the end. Sorry if this bothers anyone, but thank you for taking an interest!
The sound of the motorcycle burned in Harry's ears as he shivered against the night's cold. Hagrid hadn't said a word to him since they had stepped outside and swung onto a dirt covered motorbike parked along Privet Drive. The passenger cart luckily had had a blanket tucked into it, which Harry had firmly wrapped up in before buckling himself in, though the boy couldn't help but wonder what it had once covered. There was a matt of strange black hair covering it and some obvious holes from something chewing it. At the rate I'm going, he thought numbly, it's probably a man-eating goat or something just as strange.
As the night wore on and the two made their way to London, Harry found himself trying to suffocate everything that roared in him. He didn't want to think about anything, just take each step that came. Breathing deep, he focused on locking away the frigid anger that threatened to explode from him. It pulsed as he mentally shut it away, deep in his heart; it was as though his emotions had grown a mind of their own, and with a promise, he felt the frustration and abyss of hatred flicker into the depths of his very soul as a door closed on it. It was exhausting and took every ounce of his concentration. Somehow he felt like he was physically combating everything—the abuse, the raw emotion, that night, and the truths he had yet to uncover. He didn't know how long it took him to firmly secure everything with a mental binding, some part of him realizing this strange encasement was probably more magick, but the boy suddenly found himself being shaken awake.
'Ye alright there, 'Arry?' Hagrid asked, his voice weary.
Blinking his eyes open, Harry glanced around to realize they had stopped in front of a dingy looking pawn store. 'Where are we?'
'We're at the Leaky Cauldron. It's a pub and hotel for wizards and the like to stop in for a spell,' he chortled at the latter, seemingly amused at the cold joke. 'Anyway, we kin stop 'ere for the night since the shops'll be closed until tomorrow mornin'. I just gotta message Dumbledore somethin' afore we settle in fer the night.'
As Harry clambered out of the sidecar onto the dirt covered cobbles, he frowned, looking for a sign of the pub. 'You sure this is the right place? I don't see anything.'
Hagrid chuckled as he swung off the bike, turning a knob near the speedometer. Gasping, Harry watched as the bike shrunk until it was the size of a toy, which Hagrid picked up and stuck into a vest pocket. 'Shrinking charm,' the giant-man replied as if it explained everything. 'Very talented wizard made this bike. You would have liked the man. He was your father's best friend.' Not knowing what to say especially at Hagrid's admittance the 'best friend' was, Harry grunted, shivering in the chilled night feeling sick and rung out. 'Anyway, ye won't see it because it's hid. Now if ye clear your mind a bit and really look, lemme know if ye can find it or not. This kin be a test of sort, 'Arry. Yer first…well, a step towards understandin' magick.'
Tired and wanting nothing more than to sleep and not think, Harry glared at the man before turning back to the storefront. Again, all he saw was the pawn store with its cracked window and a 'For Sale' sign taped up. As he stared, though, he noticed a strange doorway peeling off to the side. As he focused, a yellow door seemed to materialize with black words etched across its surface reading: The Leaky Cauldron of Diagon Alley. Eyes wide, he glanced at Hagrid who was busy nibbling at a nail.
'Ye see it there, 'Arry?'
Nodding, he followed behind the man, who swung open the door motioning Harry inside. The warmth swamped the boy as if trying to combat the chill that had settled into his very soul. Harry breathed deep the rich aroma of yeast bread and the sharp tang of alcohol as the door shut behind them. Quick stock of the area showed them in a tavern lit with a huge fireplace. There were a few people at various tables, and a large balding man behind the bar counter.
Looking up from what he was doing, the bartender gave a toothy smile. 'Ah, it's ye 'Agrid. What're doin' out 'ere so late at night?'
Hagrid chuckled as he angled himself towards the bar. 'If ye may know, Hogwarts business. Ye got a couple o rooms 'ere tonight?' He settled himself precariously on a bar stool leaving Harry to stand awkwardly at the door.
'A couple. Who's that ye got there?'
Grinning, Hagrid turned and nodded at Harry. 'Well, Harry Potter, Tom! Can ye imagine? Ain't seen 'im since he was a babe!'
With that, the people in the tavern all stood with a loud scraping of chairs, jaws dropped as they came awkwardly towards Harry. Unsure of what they were going to do, Harry found himself inching towards the door until his back was pressed against the firm wood.
'Did he just say Harry Potter?' a witch said, tears coming down her dirtied face. 'Harry Potter! My lord!' She reached out for him grabbing his shirtsleeve. 'Bless you, my child. Bless you!' Others crowded around him, either simply touching him or shaking his hand.
'Mister Potter is it!'
'Pleasure to meet you my lad! Pleasure to meet you! Always wanted to. Been waiting for the day I could see you.'
Harry felt his head growing tight between the contact, the people much too close, their words shrill and tear-filled. The mental block on his emotions groaned and creaked as the people pressed him. Luckily, Tom came over and gently pulled Harry behind him, glancing at Hagrid who was, by that point, talking to a tanned man with a purple turban, his hand on a tankard. 'Well, then lad. Let's get you up to a room. Sorry, but young Potter's had a night of it. Let the boy get some rest.' With that the elderly man practically dragged Harry from the room and up some stairs behind the bar.
'You alright there, Harry?' Tom asked, hesitating in the stairwell.
'Why were they doing that? Grabbing and touching me? I don't know them,' Harry muttered, a chill up and down his spine. He hesitantly looked up at Tom who had a look of concern and pity on his face, which quickly faded away.
'Well, Harry. Why don't we get ye into a room first?' With that the man continued up the stairs until he reached the second floor. He produced an old skeleton key with the room number etched in thin black, unlocking the nearest door on the right. The room was sparsely furnished with a twin bed, an oak dresser with a vanity mirror, and a door that led off to a bathroom with a toilet and small shower. 'Here ye go then, Harry.' Tom ushered the boy in, shutting the door behind them.
'Thank you, sir,' Harry found himself muttering in response.
'Right, Harry, ye seem like a fish outta water,' Tom said as he motioned for the younger man to take a seat. 'Been living out of the wizard world from the looks of it, an' ol' Hagrid not quick enough to catch ye up to speed.' Eyeing Harry with watery grey eyes, the old bartender leaned against the wall with a creak before continuing. 'Ye know about yer parents I'm guessing, but do ye know about the war or anything?'
Shaking his head, Harry muttered, 'No, sir. Not really.' Not like I even know much about my parents either.
'Well then, about forty or so years ago there was a man—a wizard. He got it in his head that there were no need for muggles and no need for muggle-born. He hated them squibs and most of all despised those who wouldn't follow in his plan. Now, muggles, they're what we call non-magick folk and muggle-born, they're what some folk would call mudbloods. Dirty blood, right, but that's a foul word so don' go sayin' it around. A squib is a person who gets born in a magick family to magick parents and pops out with no magick whatsoever. Now, this was all after that World War II and all that stuff with the muggles right, so much of the horror matched a lot of that stuff, especially since he-who-should-not-be-named, that wizard, did much the same as Hitler. Wouldn't surprise me if he was controlling the whole Nazi thing as an experiment before he went after wizards.
'Anyway, right when the war showed no promise and that wizard be getting' more an' more powerful an' more an' more not right in the head, he went after yer family.' His crinkled eyes grew glossy with unshed tears as he looked at Harry before pressing on, 'Well, right as he did it, somethin' happened that night and you my boy, all of a babe, killed 'im. That's why those wizards out there were so happy to see ye. They wanted to touch their savior.
'Now, I seen some famous people—heroes, stars, ye name it—an' I know how much that can wear on ye. Don't let it get to ye, and the best way, Harry? Don' tell them yer full name. Just go by Harry and keep that scar of yers under yer bangs. Ye don't want people makin' friends with ye fer the sole reason ye did somethin' ye don't even remember.'
With that the man turned to leave the pensive boy who looked worn to the bone. His parting words sang to Harry as some string of hope. 'An' I can tell ye been through somethin' hard, boy, but there's somethin' out there waitin' for ye. Anyway, ye can find some complimentary pajamas in the dresser there, an' I'll bring up some of my boy's old things. He don't need 'em anymore.'
'Thank you,' Harry whispered as the door clicked shut. He sprawled on the bed falling asleep before old Tom could even make it back.
The clothes he had found outside his door fit much better than his old ones, which Harry promptly dumped in the trash, wanting to shed everything from the Dursleys that he could. He was shocked when they disappeared just as suddenly as he had put them in the wicker basket, and shrugged his shoulders. It was easier to accept the oddities than it was to question them. Even the mirror had given him a start at first when it suggested he use a hair straightening charm and some moisturizer to improve his looks. Never mind the fact it told me I needed to eat more.
Wandering downstairs, he was surprised to see the dining area near empty except for Tom and Hagrid who looked like he was nursing a hangover. 'There ye are Harry. Want some breakfast?' Tom asked, and without missing a beat produced a plate of eggs, toast with marmalade, and sausage links, setting it before the boy who sat on the other end of Hagrid. 'Right then, after breakfast I can take you two outback and open the portal for ye all the way.'
'That'd be nice o' ye Tom,' Hagrid murmured, taking a swig of something that looked an awful lot like raw eggs.
'Thank you, sir.' Harry felt the insincere emptiness of his words as he proceeded to eat, surprised at how hungry he truly was. Some small part of him tingled with comforting warmth, tears threatening his eyes as Tom refilled his plate without a word and gave him a cup of steaming hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. He quickly shut the feelings away in the pool of his soul, with his anger and hatred. Again the apathy swallowed him as he mechanically made his way through breakfast.
'Right then, now ye two are ready?' Tom asked as they made their way out to the back of the Leaky Cauldron; they found themselves in a stonework enclosed area with two trash barrels and some scraggly weeds. 'Watch this here Harry, only a wand can do this so ye had better remember.' He eyed Hagrid wearily, but the man simply shrugged. Pulling out a reddened stick about ten inches in length, he proceeded to tap a series of stones whose shape was very much like a keyhole. As he tapped the last one, the stoned peeled back in a ripple until there was an archway big enough for even Hagrid to squeeze through.
'This 'ere leads to Diagon Alley, then. I'm sure I'll see you two sometime later,' Tom said, waving them off.
'Sir, what about these clothes?' Harry asked, pulling at the hooded sweatshirt that read, 'Gobstoppers Anonymous'.
Smiling, a sadness in his eyes, Tom replied, heading back to his tavern, 'Keep them, please. They look good on ye boy.'
Without really looking at anything, Harry kept his gaze at the ground as he shuffled behind Hagrid who was muttering under his breath. 'Anyway, ye got enough time for shoppin' later on since most shops don't open for another hour or so, but firstly we need to get wizard gold from the bank. Messaged Dumbledore last night after ye went up, an' he said yer parents left ye somethin'. I'm sure we talk to the goblins there, they'll sort it all out. I just have to grab somethin' at the bank, too, an' that'll be all I need, right.'
Harry glanced at what was before them, and his jaw dropped. A tall building shaped like a dome tunneling into the ground was at the end of the cobblestone. It was made from white marble whose pillars were carved with intricate scenes mostly of forests and gardens. Engraved on a gold sign were the words, 'Gringott's Wizarding Bank'. As he followed Hagrid into the building, he couldn't help but think the earthy smell that greeted them was welcoming. He continued to look at the entrance, which had a chandelier made from stained glass hanging from the ceiling, before his eyes lit on the doorman, who was bowing them into the bank.
'Welcome, sirs,' came a raspy voice. The creature that looked at them had bushy brows that nearly covered coal black eyes. He had a pug-like nose and thin lips pulled back into what looked like a smile. 'Are you retrieving, converting, or depositing today sirs?' He asked, fingers tight on the entrance door.
'Jus' retrieving today,' Hagrid grunted, as what Harry assumed was a goblin held the door open for them.
'Just head towards toward the desk over their on the far left and Griphook should be ready to help you sirs,' the goblin muttered, tipping a box-like hat at them.
Following in the wake of Hagrid, Harry couldn't help but feel the entire affair was a bit strange. He had never expected to see goblins living and breathing, and in a way it was even stranger to see them in uniform—a maroon tailcoat with large gold buttons whose sleeves stretched to holes where their spindly fingers poked out. He noticed that the boots they wore were actually just for show when one goblin walking with a stack of papers, quickly nudged the leather back in place, eyes darting about as if in fear of someone noticing.
They stopped at a desk with 'Retrieving' on a small sign with Griphook below it. 'There ye are then, Griphook, yes?' Hagrid ask as he fiddled in one of his pockets, laying out a golden key. 'Need somethin' from this vault and some paperwork and stuff for Mister Harry Potter.'
Looking up from his work, the goblin's coal eyes settled on Harry. He raised bushy brows, a crook touching the corner of his lips. 'Harry Potter then?' He reached into his desk pulling out a greenish paper, eyes never leaving Harry's own. 'I just need you to sign this form with blood, if you will. This pen,' the goblin held out the utensil for the boy, who wrapped his fingers about it, 'is enchanted to painlessly take a small amount. It is just a precaution to ensure that you are, in fact, Mister Harry Potter.'
Harry hesitantly looked at the paper, shrugging his shoulders, and quickly signed his name. He felt a faint tingle in his hand as he scrawled, and was surprised as words in blood red changed to shining gold. 'There are you, Mister Griphook.'
Smiling, the goblin took the paper and pulled out a row of keys. 'I know why you are here, Mister Rubeus Hagrid. Your wizard lord, Albus Dumbledore, messaged in. This way, then, to the underground.' He hopped off of a stool, and lead the two towards a doorway behind his desk. The smell of damp earth and long untouched ground greeted them, comforting them. 'As we step into the cart, please remain seated and ensure that you keep yourself in the cart. I would hate for you to lose any limbs as we will be traveling at quite a speed.'
Harry found Hagrid and Griphook leading him to a large mining cart, which they all promptly stepped into via a step ladder. Settling in, Hagrid leaned towards Harry the smell of day old alcohol strong on his breath. 'Alright there? This is the worst pat, 'Arry. Like riddin' a broom through a storm. Ye see, they got this cart contraption that goes really fast. Nearly makes me sick every time. I try to avoid comin' here if I can.'
Crackly voice filled with humor, Griphook snorted and patted Harry's knee. 'It is just like the human contraption of a rollercoaster, young Potter. There is nothing to fear.'
Harry nodded at the goblin, taking comfort in the contact. For some reason he found the goblins more likable than the wizards he had so far encountered. He wondered if perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the goblins were an expected weirdness, whereas the wizards looked just as ordinary as the Dursleys. He gave Griphook an awkward smile as the cart began to take off picking up speed and roaring through the cavernous underground. The wind whistled past the cart, whipping Harry's hair and filling the boy with thrill. Just as suddenly as they had begun they inched to a stop and came to a screeching halt outside of a silver doorway with chains of gold bound across it.
'You have the key, Mister Hagrid?' the goblin asked as he tapped the cart. The wooden sides folded down into a ladder which Griphook and Hagrid stepped off of.
'I do,' the giant man muttered. Turning to look at Harry who had stood, Hagrid shook his head. 'Jus' stay in the cart while I go get what I must. This is secret stuff there, Harry.'
Sitting back down, Harry watched as Griphook went to the chains and whispered to them, pressing his lips to the soft metal. The chains shivered and pulled apart from the silver doorway, which also shivered revealing a tiny keyhole. 'The wall awaits it's partner, sir,' the goblin muttered, walking back to the cart and sitting across from Harry as Hagrid opened the door to the vault and stepped in. Harry couldn't make out what Hagrid grabbed, but whatever it was happened to be small because the giant man was able to tuck the object in with the shrunken motorcycle.
'Got it 'ere then. Jus' one more stop,' Hagrid said patting his stomach as he looked at the cart.
Nodding, Griphook licked a finger and wiped it on the wood, which once again became a part of the contraption as the cart sped forward continuing towards what was supposedly Harry's vault. This trip was longer and despite his eyes watering from the cold air that whipped past them, Harry found himself looking around. The caves glowed with iridescent light that seemed to move. 'Worms,' Griphook whispered, somehow loud enough for the boy to hear despite the whistling wind. 'They help to light the darkest pathways through the earth.'
Again, they slowed to a halt and this time Hagrid stayed in the cart, moving his head over the edge and belching loudly. Harry winced, feeling squeamish as the sound as he and Griphook made their way to a row of ordinary looking doors with keyholes and small gems above them. From inside a pocket, Griphook pulled out a key with a garnet at the end and passed it to Harry as they stopped before a door with a matching marker.
'This is the vault that was left to you by your parents,' Griphook said as Harry opened the door, which swung open revealing mountains of bronze, copper, silver, and golden coins. There were some other odds and ends that looked like pots, weapons, and jewelry tucked in the farther corners. 'This is a collection from the Potter line—a line that has gone on for several generation.' Turning to face Harry, the goblin cocked his head and whipped at his flat nose with a sleeved arm. 'Mister Potter, could I ask you to please remind a Miss Evans about her family vault?'
'Miss Evans?'
Sheepish, Griphook gave an awkward cough. 'In time then, Mister Potter. If you would then collect what you need of this vault, then we shall return to the surface.'
'This…this stuff is all mine, then?' Harry asked awkwardly. He looked at the riches before him and felt saddened. All the money and treasure before him were all he truly had of his parents—the parents he literally knew nothing about other than that they had died.
'Yes, sir. This was earned by the Potters and guarded by the goblins. We goblins have watched the history of the earth, and we have decided to be guardians of its creations.' Griphook waved his hand at what lay before them, a sad smile on his lips. 'We honour the wizards who respect this decision. Mister Potter, your family has our deepest respect. I hope to see a reciprocated respect.'
Surprised, Harry looked at Griphook and saw an ancient magick tightened about the goblin. 'Yes, sir. I-I would love to honour your ways and that of the earth. Um…Mister Griphook, I hate to bother you, but I don't even know how to go about this.'
Chuckling, Griphook pulled out a silk bag and began at a pile of bronze coins. 'It is your first year at Hogwarts, yes? I shall help you to calculate the amount you will need to take with you. If you ever need more money, please send message to me or Gringott's, and we shall take care of this Mister Potter.'
They stepped out of Gringott's and all around Diagon Alley Harry noticed people going to and from shops; some of the people wore robes and pointed hats, just like wizards in faerie stories. As he and Hagrid moved forward, Harry couldn't help but realize the stores were anything but ordinary and truly sold eye of newt, broomsticks for riding, and black cats in various sizes. Hagrid stopped just outside a robe store and scratched at his face. 'Ye okay Harry?'
'Yes, of course.' The boy was tired after going to the wizard's bank; he had the silk purse from Griphook tucked in his pocket. Why are we stopping?
'Well, ye see, I'm a bit green feelin' still. Not a huge fan of the cart ride an' whatnot. Anyway, I suppose if ye got yer list, ye can figure out where to go an' the like? I just wanna go to the Leaky Cauldron an' see if ol' Tom's got something fer me.' Hagrid looked apologetic, and hastily added, 'Of course, if yer really not sure I kin help ye.'
Burying an odd feeling of contempt for the giant man, Harry forced a smile. 'I'm sure I can figure it out on my own, Mister Hagrid.'
'Thank ye, 'Arry!' Hagrid clapped the boy on the shoulder and turned to head for the Leaky Cauldron. 'Just go in there to Madam Malkin's an' get yer robes. She's got to be the best stitch witch or so I've heard. She'll take care of ye.' With that Harry watched as the man walked away, a twinge of nervousness pulsing through him.
The shop he stood before was homey, painted in deep purple and with silver trim and velvet curtains covering the window. Harry opened the oak door, the welcome bell jingling as he stepped in. A heavyset woman stood by a desk and gave a brilliant smile to him as the door closed. 'Welcome to my shop, dear boy. Here for Hogwarts robes?'
'Yes, ma'am,' Harry muttered, eyes darting about. The kindly woman grabbed his arm and steered him into a fitting area where a boy with white blond hair stood with a woman fitting robes about him.
'Just get on up there and I will take care of you in a moment.'
With a sigh, Draco watched the mirror as the witch that fitted his robes hovered about him, waving her wand and stitching hems. The sound of the welcome bell made the woman stop what she was doing as Madam Malkin bustled in, leading a scrawny shaggy-haired boy. Raising a brow, Draco was surprised at a sickening tug on the blood of Malfoy; he could feel a hungry anger and sorrow that craved escape emanating from the boy. Quickly, Draco built up a shield against the emotional wave that tugged at him.
'Another one from Hogwarts,' Madam Malkin said absentmindedly as she pulled out a wand and roll of cloth. 'I'll take care of this.' The witch at Draco's side nodded and went back to her stitching, muttering the charm to fix the thread in place and prevent fraying.
As the scraggly boy settled on a step stool beside Draco, the other boy couldn't help but feel interested. Never before had he encountered someone with magick so powerful it tickled at his senses. 'Are you a first-year, then?' he asked casually.
The other boy looked up with wide green eyes, his face much like that of a deer in headlights. Hesitantly, he replied, 'I suppose so.'
Nodding, Draco turned back to stare absentmindedly at the velvet walls. Obviously he doesn't like to be talked to directly. 'I am, too, you know. Do you know about the houses? Which house you'll probably be in? You know, it can run in the family and whatnot.' There was a tug of hesitancy that ripped at the barrier Draco had erected and the boy shivered. Truly remarkable, he thought barely glancing at his neighbor.
'Not really. I-I haven't really thought about houses and whatnot. I'm still kind of swallowing the whole thing.' Harry suddenly flinched, jaw dropping as he watched Madam Malkin wiggle her fingers at cloth and thread, watching it shrink and shift into a cloak. Silver fastening knotting to the fabric as if they had minds of their own.
Her lips quirked into a smirk, the woman raised an eyebrow at the boy. 'You'd think you'd never had a stitch witch handle your clothing.' Shaking his head, the dark haired boy sighed in resignation.
'My name's Draco Malfoy.'
The other boy tensed before meeting his eyes. 'I'm Harry.' A sense of relief seemed to spill out of him, just as suddenly quashed by overwhelming mistrust.
Curious. 'Do you mind if I ask what you're planning on doing after this? We should be done around the same time, I suppose.'
'I haven't thought about it. I suppose to get the rest of my supplies.'
He's worried and apprehensive? Draco thought, utterly liking the ability to read the other boy's emotional distress. He like the power that licked at his own, and he found wonder at the magick that practically spilled out along with Harry's emotions. 'Do you want to get some ice cream, then?' the boy offered. 'I'm supposed to meet my mother at Fortescue's. If your parents don't mind, you can go shopping with us.' At the he realized he had said the wrong thing.
The boy stiffened and Draco was suddenly washed with a feeling of emptiness and felt sickeningly lonely. He almost choked, surprised at the strength of emotion that swamped him and glanced at the boy. Someone's emotions are tainted with magick and very powerful magick at that, he thought watching the boy called Harry.
'My parents won't mind,' Harry muttered as the emotions were slowly bottled up and replaced with tender glee. 'Um, I would like that, actually.'
Wiping a tear that he hoped no one had noticed, Draco replied, 'I'm sorry.'
'For what?' Harry asked, perplexed.
'Your parents…they died?' Draco was grateful that both stitch witches paid the two's conversation on heed and he thought he even saw the madam wink at him as she worked.
Smiling sadly, the other boy nodded. 'It's okay. I don't remember them.'
'There you are dear,' Narcissa rose from the wicker chair she sat at, surprised to see her son holding the hand of a dark-haired youth. 'Who is your friend?'
Her son narrowed his eyes at her, a tense pleading behind them which she tucked away. 'Mother, this is Harry. I met him in the robe shop and was hoping he could go shopping with us, if that's all right.' The other boy looked nervous, and barely glanced at Narcissa.
Stretching out a hand, she took the thin white hand that her son held and smiled at the boy, wishing him warmth. 'You are more than welcome to join us Harry. You may call me Narcissa.' Glancing at her son, he gave her a subtle nod. 'But, are you sure it's alright to join us? Do you need to tell someone where you are?'
Hesitating, the scrawny boy shook his head, slowly pulling his hand out of hers. 'No, ma'am. I'm sure it's okay.' He stared at her feet, making her raise an eyebrow. 'Sorry to intrude.'
There are so many walls in place, I'm unsure of which walls to knock down first and which are too firmly erected. 'Really, Harry, it's not intrusion. Why don't we get some ice cream and get to know each other better? Draco? Would you mind ordering for us? Harry, why don't you sit with me?'
'I'll be back soon Harry.' The boy gave a grateful smile to her before trotting off.
Nodding, obvious unease in his posture as Harry took a seat at the table across from Narcissa, the woman decided it would reap more benefits to be blunt than subtle. 'It's rare for my son to take an interest in someone, Harry. If you don't mind me asking after your surname?'
She watched the boy scuff a well-worn sneaker on the ground and pick nervously at his nails before lifting his head and finally meeting her eyes with his own vibrant greens. 'My surname is Potter. I'm Harry Potter.'
Narcissa was surprised and hid the shock away as she carefully looked at his haggard face. There was the unruly hair and plush features of his parents, the same eyes and need for glasses—finally she lit on a scar barely hidden beneath scraggly bangs. A lightning bolt remnant of a curse gone wrong.
'Ah yes,' she said, a smile touched her lips as she nodded knowingly and lifted a hand. 'Do you mind?' Narcissa waited for a hesitant nod before lifting his hair free from the scar and tracing a finger across the soft skin. She felt him shiver beneath his touch, and pulled away. 'The scar from the Dark Lord and the mark of a curse. Do you understand this, Harry?'
She could tell she had surprised the boy. Why is he so weary around adults especially?
'No, I don't, ma'am. I-I don't know much about it, actually.'
'There's no need to be so polite, Harry.' Narcissa nodded towards her son, who stood arms crossed waiting for their ice cream. 'I can already tell that you mean my son no harm. However, I am curious as to who you are here with. That is, if you don't mind me asking, where are your guardians?'
He looked down at the ground, making warning bells sound in Narcissa. Something is terribly wrong.
'I d-don't really want to talk of it. Anyway, I'm here with a man name Hagrid. He said he was from Hogwarts.'
What in the name of Merlin is going on! Narcissa found herself shocked, something that didn't happen often. Outwardly she patted the boys hand as her son came over balancing ice cream on a tray. 'I see. Actually, I need to contact someone really quickly before we eat. Go ahead and enjoy some time alone with Draco. He'll keep you entertained until I get back.'
'As you can see, it's almost like stepping into a Renaissance Fair,' the wizened McGonagal said, steering them about the streets of Diagon Alley. 'Just as you operate in your everyday lives, we, too, operate in much the same way—you with technology and we with magick.'
Hermione's father gave her hand a squeeze. 'This is definitely interesting. I never would have imagined that all this would be in London.'
Hesitating, the woman glanced at Hermione as if confirming that the girl would understand. 'Well, I'm not sure if this concept would make any sense to you, but Diagon Alley functions outside of your reality in a way. This is part of a space of pure magick. These pockets exist all around the world and are only accessible through certain spaces.
'Part of it is to protect the wizards and magickal creatures and part of it is to protect people who don't have magick. Sadly, we are far from peacefully coexisting and much of it escalated during witch hunts and wars. As I'm sure you'll understand, humans, magick or non-magick, are far from understanding that which is different, and often times the reaction is…'
'…to retaliate,' Hermione said, finishing the older woman's sentence, a small smile her only response. 'I know this very well. I did an extensive study of the books that you sent me this summer. Just as our history is wrought with war and misunderstanding, the wizard world, too, has similar events.'
Laura, her mother, gave her a sideways glance, running her fingers through her thick hair in nervousness. 'Yes, well, this does worry me a bit. I mean, is there anything going on currently in…your world that we should be aware of? If you don't mind me saying, Theo and I are a bit out of our element with all this.'
Nodding her head, McGonagall pushed her square glasses up her nose. 'As I can understand, but no. The last war that affected Britain ended nearly ten years ago, and since then the Ministry of Magick has gone through great length to restructure and tend to not only our government but that of the entire wizarding world. Just as you have a United Nations, wizards have something similar—the Wizarding Nations Alliance.'
The girl felt her father's hand twitch and could sense the hesitancy in his voice. 'That is…very interesting. Comparative to the United Nations, you say…?'
Before McGonagall could respond, Hermione's mother cut in. 'Well, dear, we already went to the bank and got your robes. What do you suggest for us, Minerva? I'm so grateful that you have the time to ferry us around. I would be completely turned around if it wasn't for you.'
Laura flashed her daughter a smile, which made Hermione warm. Despite the fact that she was quite intelligent for her age, she realized that her parents had a body language all of their own. Some special way to communicate when to back off and when to change the subject.
McGonagal, perhaps oblivious to the subject change, clapped her hands together. 'Well, I'm more than happy to! Why don't we go find ourselves a place to rest. I can already tell you have many questions you wish to ask.'
Toying with her spoon, Ginny bit down on the wide part and flicked at the end letting it vibrate against her teeth. With a sigh, she pulled the spoon out and sighed. 'I can't believe he'd just leave us here! Just because he was on call, shouldn't he have just waited or have Mum take us instead?'
Glaring at her, Ron muttered, 'At least he left us with some money. I mean, it's not like I need to get much.' His face turned a rosy shade of red. 'I got Percy's old robes, Charlie's old books, Mum had potion supplies—all I really needed was a wand.'
'But still!' Ginny all but whined. She relented when she saw Ron's mood becoming more and more defensive towards their father. 'Sorry. I'm just tired.' Avoiding a possible blow up, she turned her attention to two boys who sat on the other end of the storefront.
One had scraggly black hair and thick black glasses. He looked sickly with pallid skin and flimsy limbs. His companion was beautiful. Like an ice prince, she thought. Platinum blond hair fell just past the youth's ears in a soft curl at the end. He had piercing grey eyes, which she noticed darted from the boy to their very own table.
'Who do you think those boys are over there?' Ron asked, practically craning his neck to gawk at them. 'I haven't seen 'em before so they can't be from the village.'
'Those two? Well, the blond boy must be a pureblood. Look at his clothes! But the other boy? I think he may be muggle-born. Anyway, obviously they're not related. They're practically light and dark; they look like complete opposites.'
Snorting, Ron turned spooning an ungodly amount of dripping ice cream into his mouth. 'That blond fellow practically looks like a bloody girl, and the other looks like a homeless bum or something. I doubt a pureblood would hang out with something that looks as though the gnome dragged him in.'
Cheeks flaming, Ginny stood so fast her seat scraped nearly a foot back. 'Ron!' She stared at the blond youth who had nonchalantly rose with the other boy trailing behind him.
Without a sound the boy leaned forward until his lips were close to her brother's ear and whispered, 'If you have something you wish to ask or say about us, the more honorable thing would be to come out and ask versus gossiping loudly enough for everyone to hear.'
Ron almost tipped his seat over as he rose backpedaling away from the shorter boy. 'What business is it of yours what I say? It's not of your business you bloody prat!'
'Ron, please knock it off!' Ginny wanted nothing more than to punch her brother in the face, hoping to knock some sense into him. Turning to the boys, she bowed her head. 'I'm sorry about this.'
The blond haired boy raised an eyebrow, his companion ever silent. 'Ron, is it? Apologize. You voice carried all the way to our table. Why should your younger sister have to apologize for your rudeness, Weasley?' Finally the other boy grabbed his companion's shirt sleeve tugging on it.
'Why should I apologize to you! You look like a bloody fag!' Ron all but snarled reaching in a bag by their table and pulling out a foot long holly stick.
'RONALD WEASLEY! PUT YOUR WAND AWAY!'
'Not until this lot backs off!'
The black haired boy tugged again at Draco's shirt, a look of intense concentration on his face. 'Draco, it's okay really. Let's just go wait for your mum to get back. I really don't mind.'
The ice prince's face seemed to melt into sincere empathy, practically flooring Ginny. Despite the hostile environment she treated the other boy as though he were walking on glass. 'Are you sure Harry?' The dark haired youth nodded and Draco turned to walk off. 'Very well. Not like I would expect much better behavior from a Weasley.'
'What's that supposed to mean!' Ron spat. 'I-I know who you are now! You're a Malfoy. One of the Dark Wizards. Where are your parents? Off torturing someone?' Ginny rolled her eyes, praying that Draco wouldn't take the bait.
'You will desist, Weasley, or I'll comment on your own family's skeletons. How would you like me saying something about your mum or useless father?' With that, the boy turned his back and headed back for their table, but Ginny saw her brother hand go up and his wand swing into motion.
'Blod icche!' The curse echoed and made Ginny's jaw drop. Not only had her brother just cast a curse on someone, but he had cast it with his opponent's back turned.
Clenching her eyes, she waited for Draco to drop to the ground—his whole body would be pulsing with the sensation that it itches to the very center of his being. Instead, she felt a chill in the air. When she looked up she saw that there was a giant bubble of thin ice around the two boys.
The black haired boy looked at Ron with utter disgust; his face distorted from the ice. 'You will stop!'
'Yes. You. Will.' The voice made the four all whirl around. Ginny realized they had a small audience. There was an older witch in a green suit, her hands on her hips and a severe look on her face, amplified by a pair of square glasses that perched on her nose. Beside her was a group of obvious muggles, the couple having their hands protectively on the should of a bushy hair girl.
A lithe blonde hurried over and stopped by the ice barricade. 'Harry, dear. It's alright now. You can pull the barrier down.' Ginny's jaw dropped when the barricade melted into nothing and realized that the boy Harry had created a barrier without a wand in hand.
Narcissa couldn't believe the power that had practically hummed in her veins when she came upon her son and his new friend surrounded by a magick barricade. She took the situation in quickly and turned to Minerva. 'McGonagall. I'm glad you're here. I believe we have some things that need to be spoken about and spoken about now.'
Without waiting for a response, she strode over to the Weasley siblings. 'Children,' she said, including her son and Harry, 'you will remain here at separate tables, and you Mister Weasley will hand over your wand.'
As she expected, the boy snarled, 'You're not my parent!' but his tirade burned out as his sister snatched his wand and passed it to Narcissa's outstretched hand. 'Ginny!'
'Here you go, Misses Malfoy,' Ginny whispered, her head bent. 'I sincerely apologize for my brother's behavior. It was uncalled for.'
Smiling at her, Narcissa tilted the girl's chin and stared into the warm brown eyes that looked back at her. A wise child. Much like her mother. 'You are a Weasley as well, then? I thank you for your apology, dear. You're not in any trouble. Are your parents about?'
'I-I can contact our mother. She'll want to know what's happened,' Ginny said, pulling out a necklace that looked like a bean dangled off the end of it. 'She can apparate here in a moment's time.'
'Would you do that, dear? I know your mother.'
Minerva was surprised to be sitting at the table with Narcissa Black-Malfoy. Though the other woman hadn't fought in the war, her husband had and Narcissa was a witch who practice dark arts; Minerva had been on the opposite side, fighting against the darkness. She took a sip of her coffee, reveling in the bitter taste that coated her tongue. 'Narcissa, what is it you need to speak about? I'm touring a muggle family right now.'
'I'm sorry,' the younger woman said, weariness in her melodic voice, 'but it cannot wait.'
Molly had arrived shortly before, giving a death glare to her children before accepting her son's wand. 'I too, am curious why you would wish to speak with me.' She gave Narcissa a wry smile, a twinkle in her eye. 'It's not as though our family were on good terms.'
Nodding her head, Narcissa gave the older woman a soft smile. 'Despite our magickal beliefs, Molly, I have the utmost respect for your trade.'
'I, too, respect you Narcissa. During the Dark War you showed me that a Dark Witch does not necessarily mean evil.'
Minerva cocked her head. I didn't realize that the two had had some form of confrontation.
Setting down her iced tea, Narcissa leaned forward, her face serious. 'You still serve the Pride of Guardians?'
Molly straightened in her chair, her eyes darting to the children; the Grangers had been led off to a bookstore while they talked. 'Yes…what is this about?'
Without answering, Narcissa turned to McGonagall. 'Minerva, would you place a very troubled boy into the care of Rubeus Hagrid? Despite that he is you friend,' she glanced at Molly, 'of both of you, he is a reckless drunk'
Closing her eyes, Minerva took care to reply. 'Of course I wouldn't. Hagrid may be my friend; however, he is too immature at times, and as you said reckless. I don't' know how many times he has been lecture even by Dumbledore about his drinking habits.'
Satisfied, Narcissa leaned back and looked over at her son and his companion. 'Do you know the fate of Harry Potter?'
Knocking over her drink, Molly quickly mopped at it with her handkerchief before pulling out her wand and drying the table. 'Harry? You mean, Lily and James's son? Why,' she looked up startled, 'he would be of age wouldn't he? Wait…you're not saying that the boy over there is him!' Her eyes were wide in understanding. 'Oh dear Goddess, that poor boy.'
Minerva nodded her head, lips tight. 'He is sickly and doesn't have enough weight on him for a boy his age. Isn't he with his guardians? Unless, they're the reason for this?'
'I believe so,' the blonde woman replied. 'I know my son, and he has a habit of bringing me strays. Something is very damaged about that boy.'
'Then who is he here with?'
Molly shook her head. 'With Hagrid. That's why you asked.'
'Yes. I would take him to the Malfoy manor, but I am not in a position to do so. I have messaged some of the school's governors, however. I will tend to him for the day; though, I believe they agree with me on this point. He will not be under the care of Hagrid and he should not be going back to his guardians.'
'Let me think, usually the governors would place a child in need with…' Minerva rubbed at her temples.
'…a teacher at the school. Who is at the school now?'
'The only one who is staying the entire summer is Severus.'
Narcissa couldn't help but give both women a knowing smile. 'I know Severus well. I will owl him and send Harry to him after we are done for the day. You two agree with this?'
'My gods yes. That boy is in serious need of help.'
Minerva sighed, but nodded her head in consent. 'And despite Severus's cold exterior, he, as your son, has a habit of picking up strays. It will be good for them. As it stands, Harry seems to have an unnatural knack for wandless magick, and Severus is adept at it. It's ironic, but the two are certainly meant to meet each other.'
Thanks for reading! Sorry, this chapter feels a little off to me (I think it's because I'm crazy busy lately). :"( I feel like maybe I need to tweek some things since there's so much going on! Anyway, it may be another week before another chapter. I'm moving back to South Korea this Friday, so I'll be really busy. T_T;;; Sorry! Thank you for following and reading. Sorry if this chapter isn't up to snuff.
