A/N: Wow, glad to see so much interest in this! Well, as promised, here's part two. I've been working on sorting out the next chapter all week, but I have to tell you, it's being difficult to organize, so it's only just started. I'll talk more about it at the end. Hope you enjoy!
Oh, and Serendipity (Thanks, Serendipity ;)) raised an interesting question about writing a story set ten years in the future. I hadn't even thought about the Muggle aspect of the timeline as technological advances seem to be slow in coming to the wizarding world. I'm sticking to this storyline and these characters, and I've got a general plan, so hopefully there will be no meandering.
Right, onward!
5:15 P.M.
The moment they landed on the uneven cobbled street, Rose wriggled out of her father's grip, glancing around to assure herself no one she knew was watching.
"What's your problem, Rose?" Hugo asked, swaying a bit in Ron's grip. Apparition always made him woozy. "Everyone knows you can't do it alone until you're of age. Who cares if anyone sees Dad side-alonging you?"
"It's mortifying," Rose complained. "I could do it myself if they'd let me take the test."
"Well, you've just got one more year and you'll be all grown up, Rosie," Ron told her with the shadow of sarcasm he needed to swallow that frightening reality. "Until then, you'll have to hold daddy's hand to get anywhere," he teased, and she swatted his hand away as he made to pinch her cheek, smirking.
"Get off, James!" Albus snapped as he and his brother appeared a few feet away. He shook off James's grip just as Rose had shaken off Ron's, and James, scowling, gave him a shove.
"Next time you can walk," he snapped back.
Ron raised his eyebrows at his children. "What's gotten into them?"
"James is just a royal prat," Rose spat, glaring at James. "As usual."
Hugo hitched a shoulder at Ron, offering a 'who knows' look, and darted off to find Lily, who'd come with Fleur.
"Come say hello to your aunt and uncle before you disappear," Ron called after him. "You lot too!" he added as Scorpius made his way over to Rose and Albus and they began to wander toward the ice cream parlor. All Ron got was a vague wave over the shoulder from Hugo. He sighed. Teenagers.
5:18 P.M.
"I told you not to come by the house anymore."
"Well, this isn't the house, is it?"
"My wife saw you at the gate again last night. She's going to start asking questions."
"She's a pretty thing, your wife."
"Just stay away from the house, alright?"
"Is that an order? Do you think you're in a place to give orders? What if, one of these days, I walked in that door and had a conversation with that wife of yours?"
Familiar voices echoed down the marble corridors. Bill Weasley looked hastily over his shoulder. "Look, I don't have time for this right now. I'll come find you later." And he hastily turned as the woman pulled her violet hood up, feeling her eyes burning a hole in his back.
"Dad!"
Bill spun around, a smile plastered on his face. "Hey! The man of the hour!" He strode forward and grabbed his son in a rough hug. "How's it feel to be good and done with school?"
Louis grinned. "'Bout the same. Won't be doing any less work than I've been doing all year."
"I hope your exam results prove that a joke," Bill told him, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, boy."
"I 'ope we weren't eenterrupting somezing eemportant," said Fleur, looking curiously after the figure retreating around the corner with a swish of her cloak.
"Nah, just some polite small talk," Bill said off-handedly, leaning down to peck her cheek.
"Think you can skive off and come hassle Dom with us, Dad?" Louis asked hopefully. "I hear her boyfriend got a job at Quality Quidditch, too."
Bill smiled ruefully. "I think I better stay here and get my work done."
"Aw, come on, it's only an hour left anyway. It won't do to bug Dom after the shop's closed. She won't have to be polite for customers, then."
"Tempting as that is, there're some things I need to take care of. Dinner still at six-thirty?"
"On ze dot," Fleur warned, putting her arms around his neck and kissing him.
"Ergh, offspring present," Louis complained, turning away. "We've left you alone too long."
His parents laughed.
"See you in a bit, then. Don't wind your sister up too much. Remember – she gets off in an hour, just like me."
"Yeah, whatever," Louis said unconcernedly, allowing his father to ruffle his hair before loping off up the corridor. Fleur was about to follow him when Bill grabbed her around the waist.
She laughed. "Not zat I mind," she said after he'd kissed her hard on the swan-curve of her neck. "But what 'as gotten into you?"
Bill shrugged, pulling her tight against him. Fleur spared him one last kiss before patting his cheek and disentangling herself from his grip. "Save eet for tonight, when ze children 'ave all gone and left us again."
He watched her retreat up the hallway, her long hair swinging in a braid at her slender hips. Then he turned into his office with a horrible taste rising in his throat.
5:20 P.M.
Hugo nudged Lily forward a step. "Go on, then."
"Me? Why me?" she demanded.
"Cause everyone knows you're the brave one," he explained slowly.
"That's ridiculous," she scoffed, grabbing his elbow and dragging him up next to her. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
They both turned together to peer up at the new addition to Diagon Alley. It was a narrow brick-fronted building like all the rest, squeezed in between the Prophet office and a tiny record shop that must have held every wizarding album ever produced. This new storefront, however, was draped in black. The door looked as though it had been painted with tar. Behind the displays in the windows (flanked by dark shutters) were thick, black velvet curtains. The awnings cast pools of black shadows on the pavement, and on either corner of the wrought iron sign sat two large ravens that cawed down at passersby.
"Cry o' the Raven Talismans," Hugo murmured with a gulp. He squinted at one of the window displays of gothic-looking metal bowls and slowly revolving amulets. "Creepy."
"Customize your purchases with personal fortune readings; knowing your misfortunes is the first step to prevention," Lily read from a small sign nailed beneath a hideous onyx gargoyle face.
"What d'you reckon they do to tell your misfortunes?" Hugo whispered.
"There's only one way to find out," Lily whispered back.
But neither one of them moved.
"It's super morbid," Lily said matter-of-factly.
"Just makes people paranoid," Hugo agreed.
"Probably a rip-off."
"Mum says divination's a load of dragon dung."
They looked at each other.
"You reckon they've got Thestral bones in there?" Hugo asked.
"Come on," Lily said, and she sized his wrist and pulled him into the shop.
5:23 P.M.
Ami perched on a stool in a corner behind the bar, watching the gaggles of older Hogwarts students with intent gray eyes.
"Mum," she said as Hannah hurried past her. She gave her mother a pleading look, fingering the coin pouch in her lap.
Hannah looked back over to where Fred and James were holding court with a group of their friends.
"Ames, give them a bit, alright? They just got out of school, and they're of age now. I doubt they're going to stick around here, anyway."
"But you promised," Ami reminded her.
"I said maybe we would ask," Hannah sighed. "I can't make promises for other people."
"But I haven't been to the record shop in ages," Ami whispered, tracing the edge of her pouch with her fingertips.
"You'll have Dad all to yourself tomorrow, angel," her mother told her. "You'll be able to go then."
Clearly, this didn't make a difference.
"Alright, when they come up to pay the tab, I'll ask James to see if Al and Rose will take you, or Lily. How's that?"
Ami bit her lip. "How come I can't go myself? It's only up the street, and I'm old enough."
"Sweetheart, there are a lot of people between us and up the street," Hannah tried to explain, running a frazzled hand through her hair. "You're still a little thing, and you don't even have a wand yet. I don't want anything to happen to you."
"I'm going to be going all the way across the country on my own in September," Ami pointed out, choosing to ignore the fact that Hogwarts was really only up the road from her house and that her father would be there most of the time. Every other eleven-year-old would be trusted to go on their own.
"That's different," her mother told her. "No one's going to snatch you off the school train, and anyway, you'll have a wand."
"What if I went to Olivander's and got a wand and then went to the record shop?" Ami suggested hopefully.
"You'd still have to make it to Olivander's. Be patient, Ami. You'll get to the record store soon enough."
"But it's Diagon Alley. Nothing's going to happen in Diagon Alley." Ami muttered as her mother bustled away.
5:24 P.M.
"Can I help you find something?"
"Dad, it's me!"
"Who? I've only got one daughter and she's still a little gum-snapping yapper. Couldn't be this fine young lady leaning on my counter."
"Dad!"
Beaming, George swept around the counter and grabbed Roxanne in a hug that swept her off her feet. "Look at you! You've grown three feet if an inch! We're starting you on a strict diet of coffee this minute before you pass up your old man."
"Dad! Honestly," Roxanne complained, but she was beaming too as he released her and she tugged her mane of braids back into place.
"Hey, Uncle George," Rose and Albus chorused, emerging from the crowd with Scorpius in tow. Rose leaned over to examine the new trick sweet being featured by the till and Albus hopped up on the counter next to Lucy, who was counting tips in the jar.
"It's a right invasion," said George, giving Rose a one-armed hug and clapping Al on the shoulder. "My little brother's a bad influence on you," he added, plucking at the Chudley Cannons sweatshirt Albus was wearing. "Hey, Ronnie. Still corrupting impressionable children I see."
"Just payback to Ginny for converting Rosie into a Harpies fan," Ron explained, joining the crowd of Weasleys that was steadily blocking the counter.
"They are a better team," Rose huffed, rolling her eyes.
"It shouldn't have anything to do with how good they are. It's about loyalty," Ron insisted.
"You sound like a Hufflepuff," Rose told him. "Have we fulfilled our familial duties yet, or should we keep Uncle George from his customers a little longer?"
"Oh, alright. Off with you, then," Ron allowed, barely finishing his sentence before Rose had pulled Al off the counter and they dove into the milling crowd, dragging Scorpius with them. Ron turned to roll his eyes at George, who gave him a knowing wink.
"Hey, Luce, wanna try out that new color-change nail polish Mum got for my birthday?" Roxanne offered, squeezed up against the counter by the press of people.
"Alright."
And in a moment, the two girls were gone as well. Ron came around the counter and started bagging things as George rang them up.
"How's she doing with… you know?" he asked quietly.
George glanced toward the stairs to the flat where the girls had disappeared. "I dunno how much she even knows," he admitted. "Roxie might know more than she does, but we've warned her to keep quiet and just be nicer than usual."
"Molly was the one waiting for her at the station," Ron confided.
"Yeah, she brought her straight over here. I guess she had to get back to work and didn't want Lucy going home to an empty flat. Didn't say much about the whole thing."
"You know Percy's been sleeping at Mum and Dad's?" Ron said in an even lower voice.
George didn't answer, just frowned. They checked customers out without speaking to each other for a while, then, as he pulled open the till to make change, George muttered, "It's his own damn fault, as usual."
"What d'you know about it?" Ron asked, distracted from packaging a pigmey puff. The fluffy pink thing scuttled up his arm to the amusement of the little girl waiting to pay for it.
George shrugged. "Well it's not likely Audrey's problem, is it? Percy's the one who tends to be a prat. It's just been so long since he's let the prat out that we forget."
"I dunno what's going on with them," Ron said flatly. "But if we have to keep Lucy out of it, we will."
5:30 P.M.
Molly Audrey Weasley took a deep breath and looked at the crumbling building before her. The wooden steps were rotting, the door barely hung on its hinges, and all the windows were boarded up. From inside, she could hear loud, coarse voices and rather jarring music.
No, she told herself firmly. You are not going to be intimidated, Weasley. You could have told Dad or Mum or one of the uncles or Hermione or even Granddad if you didn't think you could do this. But you didn't tell anyone, did you? It's your case, so get your arse in there and take care of it.
Molly took another deep breath, trying not to gag on the rather horrid stench of rotting rubbish, alcohol, and what was probably urine. She smoothed her robes, patted her hat, and composed herself into a no-nonsense, dignified Ministry official before climbing the steps to number 93, Knockturn Alley.
5:31 P.M.
"Daddy, I can't find Marvin."
Miranda had appeared suddenly at Neville's elbow as he set three sinks of dishes to washing themselves since their usual dishwasher had called in sick.
"I'm sure he's around here somewhere, bug," Neville assured her distractedly as another order appeared on the board beside the stove.
Miranda shook her head, pigtails flying. "He's not."
"You know how he likes the alley. He'll show up."
"Neville, can you manage the floor on your own for a bit?" Hannah asked, coming back with a tray of dirty glasses. "Horatio's owled in an order, and I promised I'd bring some ale by for him anyway. You know how he gets this time of year…."
Neville frowned. "How come he can't come get it himself? It's only up the alley, and all he does is putter around that old shop by himself. Why does he have to take you away from the busiest pub in London to go running down there to bring him alcohol?"
"Honestly, dear, the poor man is crippled, and he's lonely. He doesn't get much business. The least I can do is spare him some small talk a few times a week. And the apothecary is barely in Knockturn Alley."
"But it is still in it," Neville muttered. "And it's just the one knee. Honestly. Here, I'll take down his order. You're better at handling the floor than I am."
He grabbed the paper bag waiting on the counter, and pecked Hannah's cheek, softening her expression. He pushed open the door, and a small body darted around his legs.
"Oh no you don't," he said, swiftly lifting Miranda off her feet with his free arm. "You're to stay put with your sister, remember?"
"But Marvin –"
"He'll turn up, babe. He always does. Look, I'll search for him on my way, alright?"
Miranda stuck out her lip. "Alright, fine."
"That's a good girl." Neville planted a kiss on her cheek and dropped her back into the kitchen. "Mind your sister and don't make trouble for your mother."
"Don't you make trouble for Mr. Horatio," Miranda warned sternly, wagging a finger up at her father. "He gives us dragon scales to keep the pixies away from our garden."
"Yes, ma'am," Neville laughed, ruffling her hair. "Be back soon."
5:34 P.M.
Hugo ducked down to examine a long row of leather necklaces, each strung with a milky white orb the size of an apple. Carry your future around with you; will foretell events within a twelve hour span the tag read. Hugo squinted at the orbs. Shadowy images were moving and twisting inside. He pulled one off and held it in his palm, trying to glimpse a defined shape. The shadows gathered. Something was forming. It looked like a star with seven points, and in the middle, something else was shifting, something with pointed ears and a muzzle and –
"The Griiiiiimmmm!" The high-pitched wail nearly made him drop the orb. Lily jumped on his back, snickering. "That would look hot on you," she said, nodding to the crystal ball.
"Shut up," Hugo mumbled, shaking her off.
He looked back at the ball, but the shadows had dissipated.
"Can I help you find something?" a dreamy voice said from behind them, making them both jump this time.
They spun around to find themselves face-to-face with an old woman wrapped in a long black shawl. She peered at them with milky eyes over a beaklike nose, and Hugo couldn't help but be reminded of the birds perched on her sign out front.
"Erm, yes," Lily said, pinching Hugo when he looked at her with surprise. "My cousin here's worried about his future. What do you suggest for that?"
"Has he wronged anybody recently?"
"No," Hugo said indignantly.
"Bad break-up?"
"No!"
"Seen a two-legged gray hound?"
"…No?"
"It's just a general bad feeling," Lily cut in. "You know, pit-of-your stomach type thing. Is there anything that could, you know, keep away bad auras or something like that? Stave off misfortune?"
The woman made a noise in the back of her throat. "It is very difficult to protect against something when you don't know what it is. If there was a blanket safe-guard, everyone would carry it around, and nothing horrible would ever happen. Perhaps… a reading would help you narrow the field?"
She gestured delicately to a corner of the shop where a larger crystal ball glowed, surrounded by a clutter of teacups and playing cards and what looked like bird skeletons. Lily and Hugo exchanged a look.
"How much does that cost?" Lily asked skeptically.
"Can you really put a price on your cousin's safety?"
Lily just set her expression.
"Three sickles plus the price of tea," the woman muttered, shooting an annoyed look in Lily's direction.
"What d'you think, Hue?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I think I've only got two sickles," said Hugo, digging in his pocket.
"That will get you a palm reading," the woman put in smoothly.
"Our class learned how to do that this term," Lily told her, unimpressed.
"Trust me, darling," the woman said in a throaty voice. "Madam Casey knows much more than best-selling books when it comes to palm reading."
She gracefully extended a wrinkled hand, staring vacantly off to the side. Hugo hesitated. Lily hitched a shoulder at him, looking skeptical, but intrigued. He laid his hand in the old woman's.
Madam Casey's milky eyes widened. She put her other hand over Hugo's, tightening her grip like a vice, and turned her face toward him. "My dear, why didn't you say!" she whispered excitedly, pulling him closer so she could peer shortsightedly into his face. "You have the gift of second sight. You are a seer!" She strung out the words like honey and a shiver went up his back.
"N-n-no I'm not," Hugo stammered, looking at Lily for help.
Madam Casey was now squeezing his fingers so hard, he'd lost feeling in the tips. "Hm, perhaps not fully-fledged yet, but your inner eye is strong, your perceptions keen. Tell me, boy, what is it you've been feeling?" Her voice was so urgent, it made his heart hammer.
'N-nothing," Hugo insisted.
Madam Casey stared intently at him for another moment, pressing her wrinkled lips together. Then she clicked her tongue and dropped his hand. "Reluctant. They always are. Maybe we start small."
She swept across the crowded shop, the wings of her shawl flapping. Her head still turned in his direction, she pulled down a string of beads and feathers ending in a large marble cat's eye.
"This is what you need," she said, brandishing it at him. "A dream talisman. It will make your dreams clearer, more revealing, make the danger lurking in your path more apparent."
"Danger?" Hugo gulped.
"How much does that cost?" Lily asked again, crossing her arms.
Madam Casey made an impatient noise. "Ten sickles, but for you, I shall give an IOU. Please take it, dear boy. You may pay me when you have the money, but I cannot let you walk out of this shop without some protection."
"What kind of danger?" he asked, approaching the counter. Lily was clearly not taken by the show, but Hugo was suddenly feeling uneasy.
Madam Casey began putting the talisman in a bag. "It is murky, my child. The future shifts, grows darker and lighter. But there is something lurking there, a dark, stalking something that neither goes away nor comes into focus." She pressed the bag into his hands. "You take this home and hang it on your bedpost. Then tomorrow, come back and tell me what you've dreamed. It could very well save your life."
Hugo exchanged one more look with Lily.
She shrugged. "Could be a laugh," she said under her breath, leaning against the counter.
Just as Hugo was about to take the bag, the door burst open, flooding the dim shop with bright daylight and making them all jump.
"Dad," Hugo yelped, startled.
"I've been looking all over the Alley for you two," said Ron. "Didn't I tell you to stop by the shop and see your aunt and uncle?"
"We were just coming that way," Lily said quickly.
But Ron was looking around the shop, examining the items on display with eyebrows raised higher and higher. Then he spotted the bag clutched in Hugo's hands.
"What've you go there, son?"
"Dream talisman," Hugo told him.
"How much have you paid?" Ron asked dubiously.
"I am offering him an IOU," Madam Casey explained slickly.
Ron strode forward and took the bag from Hugo, dropping it back on the counter. "It's very generous of you, but I think we'll pass."
"But –"
"Come on, Hugo – Lily – we've got to get going."
And with that, he dragged them out of the shop.
"Dad!" Hugo complained, blinking in the sunlight. "She was gonna give it to me for free!"
"No, she was going to charge you interest," Ron corrected, hurrying the two of them along the crowded street. "Divination is the biggest load of dung there is. Anybody trying to earn a living on it is either scamming you blind or bat-shit crazy."
"But Dad –"
"We were just –"
"You don't know what those talismans will really do. Granddad used to confiscate things like that. Nasty stuff. It might turn you orange, or it might make your hand fall off or even worse. You should never touch a necklace unless you know straight off it comes from a jeweler you can trust. I don't like that shop. It's creepy, and I want you two to stay out of it, alright?"
There was a petulant silence.
"Yeah, whatever."
"Fine."
The two exchanged exasperated looks and darted ahead of Ron through the teaming crowds.
5:40 P.M.
"Welcome to Quality Quidditch, how can I help you?" the girl behind the counter reeled off automatically at the sound of the bell, not even looking up.
"Yeah, I'm looking for some new gear. I'd like to try on every combination of style and brand you offer."
Dominique snapped her gaze up from the magazine she'd been idly flipping through, counting down the minutes until closing. A grin spread across her face.
"Which position?"
"Oh, for all four, I think," said Louis, gesturing to the sheer wall of pad and glove displays. "And then I probably won't end up buying anything from you after all."
"You're a right git," Dominique laughed, coming around the counter and launching herself at her little brother.
"Thanks, love you too," Louis smirked, lifting her off the ground with the force of his hug. "Merlin, I'd forgotten how short you are."
"I'm perfectly average," Dominique huffed, blowing wisps of her short red hair out of her face. "You're just a ginger sasquatch freak show."
"Bonjour, ma petite," Fleur cut in, stepping forward to kiss her daughter. "Tu as des clients, no? Il faut etre poli."
She glanced pointedly at the two women looking over a Harpies poster at the back.
"Oui, Maman," said Dominique, rolling her eyes. "So," she said, turning back to Louis and punching his shoulder. "What'd you do for your seventh-year prank? Please tell me it wasn't as lame as –"
"Hey, Dom," came a man's muffled voice from the back room, deep and sultry. "What d'you say we close early tonight? Have some fun in the Quaffle cage if you know –"
A tall, dark-haired young man came around the corner and froze, going horribly pale as he was met with not just Dominique, but her mother, brother, and two customers.
"I think we'd better go, Heidi," one of the women said, and they fled the shop, giving the large wire cage filled with Quaffles a wide birth.
Fleur had a hand covering her mouth. Louis cracked his knuckles.
"Er, Mum, Lou, this is Garret, my boyfriend," Dominique said, obviously trying hard not to crack up. "Gar, this is my mother and my little brother."
"Right, I'm just gonna go round back and hang myself," Garret mumbled, and he turned and fled.
"It's been empty in here all day," Dominique explained through a burst of giggles as her mother turned wide eyes on her and Louis's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his red fringe. "I should go check on him..."
By the time she made it into the back room, Dominique had lost it. She slumped onto a crate beside Garret, howling.
"It's not funny," he muttered.
"It's fucking hilarious," Dominique panted.
"I've made a complete fool of myself in front of half your family and two complete strangers who will probably never come back in here again," he snapped, getting up and going to straighten the shelves. "How is that funny?"
"Oh, come on, have a sense of humor," Dominique said, rolling her eyes.
"How am I supposed to do that when your whole family thinks I'm a completely perverted freak?"
"You're being dramatic," Dominique told him, sliding off the crate and getting between him and the shelf, winding an arm around his waist.
"Yeah?" he pouted.
"Yeah. They only think you're a little bit of a perverted freak."
She stretched up on her toes to kiss him and he softened a little.
"Well, it's hard to help myself around you, Have I told you lately that you're beautiful?" he whispered, running a thumb along her smooth, pale cheek.
She felt her stomach flutter. "Yeah, but you can never say it often enough."
She stifled a giggle as he swept her off her feet.
5:42 P.M.
The dinner crowd was just pouring in, filling every table in the Leaky Cauldron and crowding the bar. The FIoo was a continual blaze of green, spitting people out left and right, and Hannah had started thanking Merlin each time a new arrival looked around the packed pub and decided to take their business elsewhere. Neville had yet to return and she was just about to melt into a puddle on the floor and tell everybody to just help themselves behind the bar and in the kitchen when the nightshift crew arrived.
"Oh, God bless you," Hannah breathed as Hillary swept in behind the bar and started directing drinks and Patrick, tying his apron, hurried into the kitchen. "I thought the cavalry would never come," she said breathlessly, sagging against the counter as she watched Patrick busy all eleven burners on the stove.
"Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Longbottom," he grinned, flipping a bottle of steak sauce behind his back.
"I can help," Ami offered, getting up from where she'd been coloring with Miranda and looking thoroughly bored. "I'm not going anywhere, apparently."
"Ami, I'm sure someone will come through here that will be able to take you," Hannah sighed.
"Yeah, whatever," Ami mumbled, pulling down an apron that was too long for her and tying it behind her back.
"Here, be a big help and take this to table three for me as fast as you can," said Patrick, handing her a plate. "You can keep half the tips if you like."
"Really?" Ami asked, all but forgetting her withering shopping hopes.
"Sure thing," Patrick promised, winking at Hannah over Ami's head as she mouthed, "Thank you."
"Hey, boss, that bottle sitting out for someone?" Hillary asked, sticking her head around the door as Ami darted out of it.
"Oh, shoot! It's for Horatio. Neville must have left it." She wavered for a moment, looking at the overflowing orders board. "I did tell him I'd come see him… Neville probably won't stay longer than it takes to drop off his order… do you two have this covered for just a few minutes?"
"We've got it," Hillary assured her, gracefully weaving her way out the door with three trays of food.
"You really are lifesavers," she called after Hillary.
Then Hannah picked up the bottle and hurried out into the alley. Patrick was busy at the stove, Ami was counting out half her tip, and Hillary was pouring five glasses of whiskey at once. No one noticed Miranda slip out the door behind her mother, dark pigtails swinging.
5:45 P.M.
A butterbeer cap sailed halfway across the alley and landed in Madam Malkin's flowerpot with a cling nobody heard.
"Five points for me. What d'you wanna do?' Fred asked, reveling in the evening sun which was just beginning to feel hot.
James shrugged sullenly. "How long before your girlfriend shows up and crashes the party?"
"Is that what you're tweaked about?" Fred inquired, raising an eyebrow. "You said it was fine this morning."
"Yeah, and it was fine this morning, just like it was fine at lunch yesterday and last weekend and every other bloody time we've had a free moment," he grumbled in a voice that suggested it was not fine at all.
"Are you jealous of Dorothy?" Fred asked incredulously, a smirk rising on his lips.
James just scowled at him.
"James, come on," Fred put a hand on James's shoulder and gave him a smoldering look. "If you really want some of this, I can find a deserted cupboard in five minutes."
"Oh, bugger off," James muttered, shoving his hooting cousin off the curb.
"Look, I'm all yours until tomorrow afternoon and then you're going to have to live without me for a couple hours so me and Dorothy can get it out of our system. So what shall we fill our time with? Hey, Jamie, we can apparate now!" He added as if just remembering, pounding on James's shoulder. "We can go all over the country. Fancy checking out the pubs in Nottingham? Skipping on down to the Channel?"
"Maybe later," James murmured. Something had caught his eye further down the street. A sour-faced, red-haired something. James started pushing his way through the crowd.
"What're you on about?' Fred asked, trying to follow his gaze.
"What's she doing here?" James muttered.
"Who?"
It was definitely Bennit. He couldn't mistake that fiery nest of vipers she passed off as hair. She was hurrying up the street as if Aurors were on her tail.
"I bet she's shoplifting."
"Earth to James. I may be an incredibly gifted person, but I still can't mind read."
James froze, sucking in a breath. His quarry had vanished. "Of course. Probably needs something particularly nasty to scare away her warts. Or maybe she's hoping to find a voodoo doll of me."
"Oh. Bennit's here," Fred said with dawning comprehension. He tugged at James's elbow. "Leave her be, mate. You detest her, she wishes maggots would eat your flesh, Diagon Alley couldn't handle such a loving reunion. The tabloids would go mad."
"Yeah? What about Knockturn Alley?" And James plunged after Madeline Bennit.
5:47 P.M.
Albus threw out an arm to stop Rose and Scorpius as they emerged from the junk shop across from the dark entrance to Knockturn Alley.
"Oof," Scorpius grunted as Al caught him in the stomach, making him drop his bag of broken quills. (He liked to write with them rather than the handsome peacock feathers his father gave him, if only to drive his parents mad.) "Watch it, Potter."
But Albus was paying him no attention. He'd ducked down behind a board advertising half-off textbooks that had probably been required reading for Hogwarts students a hundred years ago and peered around the side.
"Al?" Rose asked distractedly, her nose buried in one of the textbooks she'd gotten half-price.
"Sh!" Albus hissed, waving frantically for them to get down.
Scorpius sighed and pulled Rose behind the sign, too, peering over Al's shoulder. All he saw was the milling crowd. Albus, however, looked around at him, face aglow with rare mischief.
"What d'you suppose James's doing down Knockturn Alley?" he whispered.
Scorpius immediately saw where this was going. "Oh, no. Al, come on, just leave –"
Rose snapped her book shut and turned suddenly-keen eyes on her cousin. "You saw him down Knockturn Alley?"
Albus nodded eagerly.
"Guys," Scorpius tried to insert, but it was like he'd vanished to them.
"Well, he's probably up to no good," Rose mused, but not in her typical, irritated voice.
"Oh, most definitely," Albus agreed. "You'd have to be quite the daredevil to wander into those parts with all those criminals and dark magic floating about."
"Yes, quite reckless and bold."
"You aren't seriously thinking about doing something this stupid just because of what James said?" Scorpius tried to interrupt again, but neither paid him any mind.
"The only reason you'd do it was to get a peek at some legally-questionable goods."
"Or to meet some unsavory sorts."
"Otherwise you'd be quite mental."
"Quite."
They stared at each other. Then Rose said slyly, "I dare you."
5:50 P.M.
Molly leapt backward as a wad of spit sailed within an inch of her robes. The culprit, a bony man with sallow skin and a mane of dirty hair gave her a rotting grin.
"Eugh," Molly muttered under her breath, patting her hair. "Mr. Seymour," she said authoritatively, turning to the man behind the desk. "I have been waiting for twenty minutes. If Mr. Sinagra is here – and we have it on good authority that he is – I must speak to him. I may also remind you that harboring a suspect or concealing information – including witnesses – from the Ministry is illegal and will result in the loss of your Healing license and premises at the very least."
"This I'n't no hospital," the man behind the desk growled. "This 'ere's private property, Miss. An' I can do as I like in me own 'ome s'far as I can remember, cain't I? Don't 'ave to tell ya nothin' 'bout who's my company or what I done for 'em."
"Be that as it may, Mr. Seymour, it is still illegal to harbor a suspected criminal or withhold information –"
"Bleedin' Merlin, I 'eard ya the firs' twenty time," the man muttered, heaving himself up out of his chair. "Alright, alright, I'll go check an' see if 'e's up there, but I'm not makin' no promises, ya 'ear?"
"Very well," Molly agreed, clasping her hands in front of her and watching him expectantly.
He shuffled out of the room muttering about upstart Ministry birds.
5:51 P.M.
Knockturn Alley was considerably less crowded than Diagon Alley, but even with that blessing, Madeline Bennit and her streak of bright red hair had vanished by the time Fred and James had turned the corner.
"Where d'you think she's gone?" James asked, peering through shop windows as he hurried down the cobblestone street.
"Why do you care so much?" Fred inquired exasperatedly. "Jamie, hasn't anyone ever told you not to poke a stalking dragon?"
"Thought it was sleeping."
"Nah, a stalking one is worse. They've already got blood on the brain. Which clearly Miss Bennit has if she's running about down here," Fred added in a tense whisper, giving a hunch-backed woman with a tray of what looked like human fingernails a very forced smile and pulling James to the other side of the street.
"Would you relax, Freddie? I just wanna see where the lovely Miss Bennit spends her holidays… so that I can brutally hang her out to dry in front of all our peers next term – get down!"
James pulled Fred into a crevice between two buildings just as the blue-uniformed Auror set to patrol the alley came around a bend.
"Merlin, Potter. Trying to give me a concussion?" Fred groaned, rubbing the back of his head where it had slammed against the uneven stone.
"I thought it might be Teddy," James murmured, watching the man pass down the middle of the alley. "But we're in luck. It's not. He won't recognize us. Not from far-off anyway. Come on."
5:53 P.M.
Bill rubbed his knuckles and felt in the pocket of his robes for his wand. He didn't dare draw it here. That would be a death wish. But he still wanted to make sure it was there. You could never be too careful here. He thought of what he'd told Alfred when he'd clocked out early, about how he was headed home to celebrate with his kids. Nobody would think to look for him here.
"I knew you couldn't stay away," a smoky voice said and he whirled.
She leaned against the table behind him, cloak open to reveal very short robes and spiked heels. Bill looked uncomfortably toward the door where a thickly-muscled wizard stood, grim-faced, watching them with beady eyes.
"Have you got a room? I'd rather do this in private."
A playful, amused smile rose to her face as she watched him fidget, taking her time to answer. "Sure thing, love. So long as you've got the money."
He pulled a small pouch out of his pocket and shook it so she could hear the clink of coins. Her grin widened.
"Right this way."
5:54 P.M.
Ron ran a finger gingerly along the rim of a barrel in the corner of the workshop. He examined the fine gray residue that came away before rubbing it off with his thumb and turning to his brother – or what he could see of him, anyway. George's legs stuck out from behind a heap of boxes as he rummaged for something.
"Does it ever make you nervous to know you've got a half-ton of concentrated, highly flammable gun powder sitting right below your bedroom?" Ron asked.
George emerged, dust bunnies clinging to his eyebrows but triumphantly holding the last pack of trick playing cards. He glanced at the enormous barrel and the shelves right above it stacked with his firework inventory as if he'd forgotten he had the makings of a bomb sitting in the back corner.
"Nah. It's got charms and stuff on it – at least I think it has. Suppose I should check that one of these days. Me and Ange are the only ones allowed in here and we know what we're doing."
Ron gave the keg a wide birth. "Still…."
George snickered. "Sweating are you, little bro?"
"No," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Have you forgotten what I do for a living? But he edged a little farther away from the powder all the same. "What're you making, anyway?"
He picked up one of the products arrayed on the table, the new flavor of Skiving Snack boxes.
"Filling orders," George explained, stepping back and waving his wand so that the brown packing paper spread like a tablecloth beneath the array of products neatly gathered itself and everything on it into a lumpy package. He plucked the Skiving Snackbox out of Ron's hand, stuffed it into the bulging sack, and sealed it with a final tap of his wand.
He heaved it off the table, but instead of carrying it over to the row of similar packages waiting to be picked up by owls, made for the door.
"Well, it's been a lovely chat, but business awaits. See ya later, Ron."
"What, you hand deliver now? On the busiest day of the year?" Ron inquired, catching the door of the workshop as it swung shut behind George.
"It's only going up the street. It'd cost more for an owl to take it than for me to just run it over. Look, I've really gotta get going, Ron. I said it'd be there by six and if it's late, it's free, and I'll charge you. If you're gonna hang around all day, make yourself useful and help a few customers –"
"George," Ron cut him off, eyes narrowed on the order list tacked to the wall beside the door. "Where are you taking that?"
George subtly shifted his hand to cover the address tag. "I told you, just up the street. I'll see you later."
"George!" In a flash, Ron was in front of him, blocking his way. And George appreciated for the first time why Harry had picked his goofy little brother as his second-in-command. "Please tell me that isn't going where I think it's going."
George rolled his eyes. "I do it every week, Ronnie. Keep your hair on."
"Every week?" Ron gaped.
"Yes," George sighed. "There's a bloke down there that likes to re-label all of it and try to pass it off as something more valuable on the black market. He pays well and keeps steady business. And if you haven't noticed, little bro, I'm still here to keep delivering to him and that's the way he likes it. Now be a good chap and let the grown-ups do business."
Very reluctantly, Ron stood aside. George could think what he wanted, but Ron had spent too many long, dark patrols down Knockturn Alley not to know what sort of shadows lurked under every door there. He watched his brother's retreating back anxiously.
"Don't worry about it," Angelina said, leaning over the counter. "On most days, it's barely a five minute delivery. He'll be fine."
Ron merely frowned. "He doesn't know what's down there." Angelina raised her eyebrows, but Ron forestalled her inquiry with a nod at the till, butting aside his frustration with difficulty. "Want some help with your customers?"
"Lily and Hugo can –" Angelina began, turning half-way toward the queue. She stopped when she saw the vacant till and the waiting line. "The moment you turn your back…."
Ron heaved a put-upon sigh. "I'll bet they went straight back to that creepy new divination shop up the street. I told them to stay away from there."
"Well, that was your first mistake, wasn't it?" Angelina said amusedly as Ron began shouldering his way toward the door.
"They'll've spent all their savings on dragons' teeth and moonstones before I get halfway there," he muttered grumpily, and he set off for Cry O' the Raven Talismans.
5:56 P.M.
"Did you see that cloak?" Rose breathed as she, Albus, and Scorpius pushed their way out of another dark, dusty shop filled with creepy artifacts and a dodgy-looking clerk.
"The one with all the cobwebs sewn in it?" Al asked, shuddering.
"Not just sewn in, sewn in in runes that used to be burned out of scrolls because they were so dark," Rose told him in a hushed whisper.
"That's so –"
"Disturbing?" Scorpius supplied dryly from behind them.
"Cool!" Al exclaimed, bouncing a little with his exhilaration.
"Right?" Rose said excitedly. "I didn't know people were still using rune magic like that!"
Scorpius gaped at the pair of them. "Do you even hear what you're saying?" he demanded. "You two – of all people –"
"Relax," Albus told him, rolling his eyes. "It's not as if we want to buy the things or anything. It's just – I mean, even if it is totally creepy, isn't there something impressive about the magic?"
"No," Scorpius said flatly. "There's nothing impressive about anybody who decides to make something like that." He crossed his arms and glowered. "Or sell it. Can we please get out of here now?"
"In a bit. Not all of us got to grow up in an old manor stuffed to the ceiling with dark artifacts, you know," said Rose, peering interestedly into a metal cage in front of the next shop.
"Well, you should count yourselves lucky," Scorpius muttered. He knew Al and Rose had no love for the Dark Arts, but it unsettled him to see how they walked through the alley as if it were a museum, reverently ogling all the things on display.
"I mean," Rose said, rounding on him impatiently. "We never got to see stuff like this. The Dark Arts has always just been this big scary shadow and we've never had any idea how it works or what it looks like. What's the harm in looking?"
"There are a lot of other people who aren't just looking," Scorpius answered, giving the street a dark look.
Rose didn't reply. Al was biting his lip, for a moment looking rattled back to reality, and Scorpius dared to think he'd gotten through. But then Al saw something over Scorpius's shoulder and that odd, mischievous look came over his face.
"Just one more shop, alright, Scorp?" he said, pulling something out of the pocket of his sweatshirt and already starting to cross the street.
"No. We need to get out of here," Scorpius insisted, pulling at Al's elbow. "Now."
Rose and Albus exchanged looks. "Since when have you decided to be assertive?" Rose asked.
Scorpius scowled at her. "I mean it. What if your dad catches us?"
"He won't," Albus said confidently, and he unfurled a long, silvery cloak. "What do you suppose old Borgin keeps in that back room of his?"
5:58 P.M.
James pulled to a stop so suddenly that Fred, looking warily at a group of burly men gathered on a stoop ahead, smacked into him. The men snickered.
"Look," James hissed, pulling a bewildered Fred down to the dirty cobble stones.
"What?' Fred hissed back, starting to get annoyed with James's stupid quest. If it were anywhere else, he'd be all in for heckling Bennit a little, but she wasn't worth this place.
James pointed up at the window they were ducking under. Through the dusty panes Fred could just make out someone's blurry profile. Someone with long red hair.
"I knew she came down here," James breathed triumphantly.
"Right. We've found Waldo. Now what do you plan on doing?" Fred asked.
James's expression clouded for a moment. Evidently he hadn't thought this far ahead. But then a wide smirk spread across his face, and he shot to his feet, dusting off his jeans.
"Right, I think we'll need a table and some drinks," he said, pointing to the shabby sign above the door inscribed with a tarnished number 92 and 'Eye of the Serpent Tavern.'
6:00 P.M.
"Hold it!"
Rose froze halfway across the threshold to Borgin and Burke's. Her insides seemed to turn to water, and she remembered why she didn't like breaking the rules.
"Rose Megan Weasley, what exactly are you doing?"
Rose closed her eyes for a second and turned around. Bill was striding up the street towards them, his graying hair swinging loosely about his scarred face and making the expression in his eyes all the more intimidating. She swallowed painfully.
"We just – were –" her voice faltered to a squeak as her uncle came to a stop in front of them, casting a long shadow over her.
Bill glanced at Scorpius. "Where's the third musketeer?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"In the junk shop, up that way," Rose said quickly, waving vaguely toward Diagon Alley and standing on Scorpius's foot as he opened his mouth.
Bill didn't look convinced. He peered over their heads into the gloomy shop windows. "And why did you leave him there?"
"He – he didn't want to come with us," Rose was trying to find the right balance between casual and nervous lest her uncle realize she was lying through her teeth, but it had been a long time since she'd had any practice. She thought of the prefect badge in her trunk, and her stomach squirmed with guilt. But then she thought of what James had said on the train and the guilt quickly burned away. "You know what Al's like. He won't even nick a biscuit from Gran. We just wanted to see what was down here, but he was too much of a chicken to come."
Bill pushed out a heavy breath. "Well at least one of you had some sense," he muttered. "It's dangerous down here," he told them severely. "I don't know what you were thinking. I thought you had more common sense, Rose."
"What are you doing down here, then?" Rose demanded, stung.
For a second – just a second – her uncle looked taken aback and Rose had the satisfaction of catching him as surely as he'd caught her.
"I work for the bank," he said gruffly. "They send me all over. And anyway, I'm not underage so I can go where I like." He grabbed them each by the shoulders and began steering them forcefully up the alley. "You'll be lucky if I don't tell your parents where you've been sneaking off to," he grumbled.
Rose and Scorpius had no choice but to shuffle along beside him.
6:01 P.M.
A bottle of mead and a basket of crisps landed on the sticky table with a clatter.
"What. Do. You. Want?" Madeline Bennit planted her fists on her hips and glared at them suspiciously.
"The house special looks good," Fred told her, perusing the menu casually. "You know you'd get better tips if you smile."
"She'd scare away all the customers if she did that," James stage-whispered.
"Get out," Bennit snapped, pointing a sharp-nailed finger at the door. "I don't know what you're playing at coming round here, but you can ruddy well get out."
"You're an incredible saleswoman, Bennit," James deadpanned. "Must be that irresistible charisma."
"You bleeding piece of toad –"
"Maddy?" An old man with a grizzled gray beard had appeared from around the bar, a little girl with Bennit's wild red hair swinging off his hand. He raised his bushy eyebrows curiously at the two boys.
Bennit swung around, face burning crimson. "They know me from school –" she tried to explain as the man frowned at her.
"We're old friends," Fred said with the hint of laughter at the repulsed look she shot him over her shoulder. He stood and rested an elbow on Bennit's shoulder. "No need to worry. She couldn't offend us if she tried."
"And believe us, she has," James added genially.
"Oh, alright then," the man nodded, still looking slightly confused. "Well, Maddy-paddy, we've got some errands to run. Auntie's round back if you need some help." He nodded toward a side room where a raucous clamor rose from a group of burly, rather violent-looking people around a dart board. "I imagine the dinner crowd'll be in soon. Do you're… er, friends want to hang around behind the bar until you're off?" he added, casting another bemused look at Fred and James.
"No," Bennit pushed out through gritted teeth. "They really have to be going."
"Well… er, whatever they want," the man said, clearly wrong-footed. "Come on, Calla. Best be on our way."
The little girl skipped beside him as he shuffled for the door. It seemed to take a painfully long time for them to disappear; but the moment they'd gone, Bennit threw off Fred's arm and he wiped his hand on his trousers as if he'd put it in something foul.
"Aw, Maddy-paddy, you're so cute when you try to kill me with your eyes," James crooned. He ducked swiftly as a handful of tarnished silverware went flying at his head. "Oo, in a bit of a mood, though."
"You've had your fun!" she snarled at them. "You can march back to school and tell all the pure-blood snots I share a dorm with that I live in a dirty pub beside a garbage heap, alright? Do you think I give a damn what they think or what you think or what anyone thinks?"
"Keep your hair on, Bennit, we're not going to blackmail you," Fred drawled, rolling his eyes.
"Nah, not now we know you come from a tough neighborhood like this," James added, pretending to bite his nails nervously.
An odd look came over Madeline Bennit's face then. "Half my neighbors would pay twice the price of this place for your head, Potter," she said darkly.
"Well, it's disappointing to find out I'm worth so little," James replied. He laughed, but something crawled up his spine.
Fred gave him a weird look. "Bennit's right. We've had our laugh, and we'll be on our way." He moved toward the door.
"But we've only just got here," James said indignantly, never one to let Bennit be right. He reached for the bottle of mead and wrenched out the cork. "Now, does the special come with the cries of helpless puppies or is that something you charge extra for?"
Bennit's lip curled. "The world is just slime on your boots, isn't it, Potter?"
"Come on, James," Fred said more seriously, tugging on James's collar. "Aren't you supposed to have dinner with your parents or something?"
"Yes, go run along back to your sodding war-hero lineage before their golden spill-over gets rubbed off of you in this place," Bennit said scathingly, snatching the basket of crisps back.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" James demanded, nonplused.
"What would you be without them?" Bennit asked, whirling halfway to the bar and fixing her dark emerald eyes on his face. Contempt practically oozed from her. "Tell me that, Potter. Marching in here like you're a mighty lord, like just because your daddy comes down here from time to time and arrests half the street to make England feel safe again, you're better than all of us."
James was surprised to feel the cut of her words, and even more surprised to find they'd brought him to his feet. "Me and my father are better than the lot of you because we're not bigoted, heartless criminals," he hurled at her with all the righteousness he could.
"James," Fred said uneasily, still halfway between their table and the door. Their argument had caught the attention of a few of the dart-players, who leered around the doorframe at them. Bennit gave a soft laugh.
"You aren't bigoted?" she asked on a breath.
Fury blazed behind James's eyes. He was almost nose-to-nose with her in two swift strides, a thousand diatribes clamoring in his throat, a thousand retaliations begging to be shot back.
6:05 P.M.
And that was when the world was ripped apart.
A/N: I told you it was cliffy. Literally cliffy, too, not just suspenseful. Sorry about that, but I've got to keep you coming back somehow. Anyway, so like I was saying, I've only got the next chapter started, so I have no idea how long it will take to finish. My excuses and other update info can be found at the bottom of my profile if you're interested. I'll try to post a word-count-progress thing for this story so you know I'm actually working on it. Maybe I'll even do teasers! I dunno, keep an eye on my profile though, if you want information.
This chapter was nice and long, though, wasn't it? A reviewer actually commented that the first chapter was TOO long, and this one was 3,000 words longer, so… oops. I'm planning on shooting for 5,000/6,000 words a chapter with quite a few chapters, so just be ready for a long haul, I guess.
Thank you guys all for your lovely words and interest! I love to hear from you!