Harry spent the next week relaxing at the Burrow and eating extra helpings of all of Mrs. Weasley's fantastic cooking which, he was happy to note, consisted of more than just bacon. This morning's eggs and toast were as good as any Harry had ever eaten, and as Harry scraped strawberry jam onto a hot slice of bread he and Ron were idly discussing returning to school over a game of wizard's chess.

"Who d'you s'pose set the new defense book?" asked Ron as he prodded one of his miniature chess men into position.

"Dunno," said Harry.

"At least it's not that quack Lockhart," said Ron. "Or is it? I dunno, do you think he might've recovered by now?"

"I hope not," said Harry truthfully. Gilderoy Lockhart had been an absolute nightmare to deal with in their previous year, and would probably have left them for dead down in the Chamber of Secrets if the memory charm he'd intended to use on Harry and Ron hadn't backfired disastrously. Harry watched as his knight decimated one of Ron's bishops. Yeah, just like that, thought Harry, pretending the bishop had Lockhart's face. As Ron was scooping bishop Lockhart's remains off of the chess board his Mrs. Weasley walked in and glared at the pair of them accusatorially.

"And what are you two up to?" she demanded with her hands on her hips. Harry got the distinct impression of a coiled snake about to strike.

"Eating breakfast?" asked Ron, shooting Harry a furtive pleading look.

"You had better eat it faster, then! We're going to Diagon Alley in fifteen minutes. Did you forget? It's nearly nine o'clock! Honestly, of all the-" her voice carried downstairs as she climbed the Burrow's several flights to remind her other children. Harry honestly had forgotten they were supposed to be leaving.

"Hey, Harry!" said Ron suddenly.

"Yeah?" replied Harry.

"Hermione!" said Ron, beaming. Harry caught his meaning and smiled back. Hermione was a girl in their year at Hogwarts who they'd be meeting at Diagon Alley when they went to pick up their school things. Ron had the chess set put away in seconds and was waiting patiently for the rest of his family to gather for the trip into London. Fred and George looked a bit surly, as though they hadn't slept properly, and they kept nudging one another and whispering. Mr. Weasley backed his new car into the gravel driveway and everyone admired it as much as they could from the front stoop to avoid getting soaked through and through by the heavy rainfall. Fred and George were quietly protesting against their mother in the back of the group.

"She'll want to know all about Egypt, I reckon," Ron told Harry as Mrs. Weasley began beating the twins over their heads with her umbrella.

Aside from a running commentary by Mr. Weasley on all the new features his shiny black sports car had that his old Ford Anglia did not, the drive into London was rather uneventful- although Harry could not remember it looking any wetter than it did now. Large torrents of water were rushing through every gutter and pouring out of every sewer entrance like the city was sinking. The moment the car was parked in the Leaky Cauldron's shoddy parking lot, the twins jumped from the back seat and stalked off ahead. Mrs. Weasley exasperatedly gathered the rest of her children and Harry into the old tavern and began to escort them to the brick wall that led to their destination. Harry however became distracted by a wanted poster that looked oddly familiar... Harry jumped in fright as a firm hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Harry, might I have a word?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Uh. Yeah, okay," said Harry. Mr. Weasley led him around to a small back table and waved off the bartender's curious gaze.

"You've heard about Sirius Black, haven't you, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I heard about him on the news, yeah. He's a murderer, isn't he sir? But what does he have to do with-" began Harry, but Mr. Weasley interrupted him.

"Harry, Sirius Black was one of You-Know-Who's biggest supporters. What's worse is that he was never caught. I know you and Ron and Hermione all fancy yourselves sleuths, but you've got to promise me, Harry, that you won't try to find this man," he tapped the poster of Sirius Black beside their table, "okay?"

"Alright, Mr. Weasley, whatever you say," said Harry, perplexed about why he'd go hunting for any dangerous uncaptured criminal.

"Good, good!" Mr. Weasley chuckled, ruffling up Harry's hair. "We'd better get back to Molly or she'll think I kidnapped you and forced you to admire the new car. Off we go!"

In no time at all they had caught up with the rest of the group and, true to his assumptions, the first thing Mrs. Weasley did was accuse her husband of getting Harry's private opinion on his new car. Harry laughed along with Ron and Ginny, who was once again staring at him fixedly. They proceeded down Diagon Alley's main boulevard, taking extra care to avoid stepping under any of the streams of water issuing from the awnings scattered everywhere. Harry and Ron split from the main group to go look at the fancy new broomstick models in Quality Quidditch Supplies' window display.

"Harry? Ron?" Harry and Ron both turned to see who it was who had called out to them when something frizzy collided with them and nearly knocked them through the display they had just been examining.

"It is you!" Hermione shrieked, giving first Harry and then Ron massive hugs. Harry noticed that Ron held on a bit longer than Hermione seemed to want, but when they finally broke apart she was blushing. Harry coughed uncomfortably.

"So, uhm, should we pick up our books then?" asked Hermione a bit breathlessly.

"Yeah, I reckon we should," said Ron. Ron made to slip an arm around Hermione's shoulders but she pushed him off.

"How was your summer, Harry?" Hermione changed the subject. Harry grinned.

"Oh, you know the Dursleys, Hermione. Tell her what happened, Ron, I don't think I could do it without bursting into laughter."

As they walked towards Flourish and Blotts Ron casually explained how Mr. Weasley had exploded into the Dursley's living room and dueled Vernon Dursley and his sister to rescue Harry from the last few weeks of his stay there. Hermione turned to look at Harry questioningly and Harry just shrugged. As far as he knew it was all true; he had witnessed Uncle Vernon fire shotgun rounds at Mr. Weasley before he escaped up the chimney.

"Never a dull moment there, right Harry?" said Ron with a grin that Harry returned. His best friend definitely had a point there.

"I think that's horrible," said Hermione. "Why pin the blame on some house-elf?"

"'cause they're always punishing themselves anyway," insisted Ron. "What difference does it make if they get into more trouble?"

Hermione didn't look like she could believe what she was hearing and was on the verge of beginning another argument when Harry spotted a large familiar figure lumbering in their direction. He nudged Hermione and pointed, and together they made a beeline for the massive gamekeeper.

"Oh," hiccuped Hagrid, "'lo, 'arry. 'ermione. Ron. Can' stay, yeh know how it is. I'll see you lot back up at the school."

And with that he lumbered away.

"Did that seem odd to anyone else?" asked Ron.

"I think... has Hagrid been crying?" said Hermione. Harry just shrugged. The trio proceeded to Flourish and Blotts, picked up their school books, and carried them beneath their assorted sweaters to keep them as dry as they could as they met the rest of the Weasley school supplies scouting party at the exit to Diagon Alley. There they bid adieu to Hermione and her dentist parents and set off back towards the Burrow. Maybe London really is sinking, thought Harry. There was, if it was at all possible, even more water flooding the streets outside on the way out than there had been on the way in. Surely the rain had to stop sometime.

"Hey, Harry," whispered one of the twins. Harry leaned over as covertly as he could so that Mrs. Weasley would not catch him fraternizing with her delinquent sons, but it was no use: Mrs. Weasley, possibly reacting to some sixth sense for detecting trouble-making, adjusted the mirror over her front seat to give her a clear view of the back row.

"...tell you later, Harry," said Fred. Or George. Harry straightened back up and tried to enjoy the rest of the dull car ride back to the Burrow as much as he could.