Chapter 5 - Magic With Cats
We should not just assume that people's minds work on the same principles as ours does. Many times, the people we encounter do not reason as we do, do not think as we do, do not value the same things as we do. You should try to see the world through their eyes to understand why they do the things they do, what principles they follow, what values they cherish. But remember the one thing that ties us. We all think we are right, even people who are thought of to be the bad guys, who are bad guys, in some objective sense, don't think of themselves as the bad guys.
Not many people think like this. Not many people would value thinking like this. It is a very Hufflepuff thing to do. And a very difficult thing to do. The lens through which they see the world is not theirs.
Madam Malkin's shop turned out to be a warehouse of all kinds of muggle clothes for every fashion, some even going back to the 19th century. Apparently, there was a group of wizards called FART (Fresh Air Refreshes Totally) who believed that the current muggle fashion stemmed the flow of magic by blocking air to reach their private parts. Harry seriously hoped that wasn't really the case, but what did he know about magic. If it turned out to be true, Harry thought there was a possibility of it catching up once he started the trend.
Madam Malkin had hired a muggleborn assistant who was in charge of handling the muggle cloth sales. She had looked at him in sympathy at his magically enhanced clothes when he informed her that he didn't own anything better than what he had on, and promptly rushed him into the clothing section. She had asked him why he didn't just buy from muggle stores where they would be cheaper. Harry didn't have any muggle money with him and agreed with the professor that with the extra charge to convert galleons, he might as well have bought them here. Besides, he thought, Professor McGonagall shouldn't be seen anywhere near the muggle shops in her attire.
Professor McGonagall was talking with Madam Malkin when Harry emerged out of the back wearing a black robe carrying three bags full of clothes. He had been an hour in there, and he was starting to become weary after having to wear these clothes over and over. He really wanted to see more of the magical world, and buying clothes was so not what he wanted.
After paying for the clothes, they were again walking in the magical Diagon Alley. Just the whiff of the air here and the slightest glimpse of something extraordinary happening seemed to fill Harry with energy.
"You must be feeling hungry by now. First, we should buy you a trunk to store all those clothes and the rest of your supplies that we will purchase after lunch."
Harry wasn't feeling very hungry, but agreed with her, excited to see the kinds of food available here. After heading to a normal looking leather shop, and buying a not so normal trunk, Harry walked empty handed with Professor McGonagall to a fancy restaurant called Agnes's Taste.
The inside was circular in shape. Private cubicles extended further down the hallway through doorways. The ceiling was high and conical in shape that had dark red lanterns hanging across it creating a rich ambiance with a hazy red glow.
Harry's attention was drawn to three boys making a lot of noise sitting a few tables away from them. Two were red-haired twins, and the other one had cool black dreadlocks. One of the twins was recounting a story while throwing gestures which suggested the ordeal that he went through. However, the other two were having trouble staying still in their seats and were laughing. Their voice carried across the doorway.
"First, she screamed, 'George! What are you doing?! Oh, Merlin!' When it looked like she was going to faint I said, 'Mom! I am Fred!'"
"You said what?!" his twin shouted, glaring at him.
"I said, 'Mom, I'm Fred. George is in the shower.' She then started clutching the wall trying to hang onto it. I didn't know whether to catch her or to zip up."
"What did you do?" asked the dark-skinned boy with black dreadlocks, who was clutching the back of his seat trying not to fall, while the other twin was now glaring at both.
"I zipped up!"
The professor made a noise resembling a hiss. "Mr. Potter, we should look for another restaurant. I am feeling a little queasy here," she said a little forcefully.
"I like this restaurant! Look – the knives and forks are moving on their own – and look, that dish is flying through the air!" Harry exclaimed looking at everything in wonder.
"I couldn't exactly help her with it hanging in – "
"Come on! We haven't got the whole day!" the professor hissed at him over the boys' voices, nudging him hard on the shoulders.
A few minutes later they were sitting in The Royal Swan, a homey-looking restaurant on one of the tables in the center. Spheres illuminating the hall in purple light floated about in the air. As soon as they sat, two menus, two glasses of water appeared on the table in front of them.
"I apologize for that, Mr. Potter. The air in there didn't agree with me."
"It's alright, Professor. This place is great too," Harry said looking at the menu with curiosity. Harry had never heard of some of the dishes mentioned in it – Pork Vol-au-vent, Chocolate Vol-au-vent, Chicken Vol-au-vent, Hogsmeade Platter, Merlin's Cheezy Roast. Almost all of the drinks mentioned were new to him. After questioning Professor McGonagall, he decided to go for Chicken Vol-au-vent, Merlin's Cheezy Roast and Gillywater.
"So, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said after they had ordered their food to a rugged brown-haired boy a few years older than Harry, who he believed was also attending Hogwarts as he was quick to greet Professor McGonagall. "How has been your first experience with the wizarding world?"
"It has been… just brilliant! I would never have imagined that all these things existed – Goblins, teleporting buses, shrinking weightless trunks, dragons! It all seems like a dream…" Harry had an awed look on his face recalling the events of the day. His attention was drawn to his glass of water which seemed to be refilling itself. Woah! That is handy.
"That's good to hear, Mr. Potter. I can guarantee you that this isn't a dream," the professor paused. "Actually, I cannot guarantee you since any of your dream characters will say the same. I can spray some water on your face using my wand if you want."
"A part of me does want you to do that. Just to see some more magic. This all seems so unbelievable."
"Believe me, you will. Hogwarts is a school where students study magic, and apart from the classes of a couple of inane subjects, you will see magic and do magic in all of your classes. You will live with our kind for the next seven years at Hogwarts, you will eat with them, share a dorm with them, play and learn with them. I assure you, after a while, it will be the muggle world which would seem odd to you."
"Really! I can't wait to get there!"
Harry was about to burst in happiness at just imagining how it would be like. Somehow seeing all this magic, being in the magical world made him feel like he belonged here. Probably because it was infinitely better than the muggle world was for him.
"That's good to hear. While we are waiting for the waiter, I would be happy to answer any questions you have about our world or Hogwarts."
"Umm, aren't we the waiter now?" Harry questioned.
She raised her eyebrows. "That isn't a question about the wizarding world. But, yes, I do believe we are."
Harry laughed. He was reminded by one of his muggle school teacher. She wasn't his favorite teacher, though. "How much time does it usually take to make food with magic?"
"Less than the muggles take, but not by much, I am sure. The most fundamental law of magic is that interfering with life forces always has grave consequences. And all food is derived from life. You can use magic to cook food for you, but you cannot create food. It is also one of the rules of Gamp's laws of elemental transfiguration – You can never permanently transfigure anything into food. You will learn about that in Transfiguration, the class which I happen to teach."
"But you can create water? That's weird."
"I understand why you might think so. But there's a key difference between water and food. Food comes from life, and water supports life. Same is with anything else your body might need. Anything that requires any life force to exist, for example – bones, milk, alcohol, cannot be created or transfigured from magic. Does that make sense, Mr. Potter?"
That made sense to Harry. If they could create life or alter life, then there would be no difference between God and wizards… apart from power, he supposed.
"Um, yeah."
Professor McGonagall shook her head. "No, Mr. Potter. Many magical theorists, researchers, and alchemists have been trying to make sense of it for centuries. We do not know the precise reason for the existence of these laws. Magic seems to be governed by some arbitrary laws for no apparent reason. It can create salt but not sugar. It can create iron, but not gold, silver or copper. You can use it to make other things or even people fly in the air, but not yourself. You will learn it fairly early in your studies that magic is not a simple phenomenon."
Harry was feeling like he was sitting in a class. "So, you are saying that magic doesn't make sense?"
"I am saying that we have not been able to make sense of the laws that govern magic."
After staring at her for a few seconds, Harry did what he used to do in those classes. He nodded while making eye contact.
When a few more moments had passed with Professor McGonagall peering at him over her glasses, he felt the need to ask something else.
"Um, Professor, I was thinking… is there a limit on doing magic? I mean… You-Know-Who is said to be the most powerful dark lord, um, in a very long time. What makes one more powerful than the other? Is it just the… um, spells that they know?"
There was a slight flash of her eyebrows. "The answer to that is not so simple, Mr. Potter. No-one has ever reached such a limit. But does this limit exists? I would say so. I do not believe anyone would ever be able to just throw spell after spell, or increase the power of the spell at will without feeling any strain or exhausting themselves. You can compare it to your physical abilities. You will always be able to run faster if you put more effort into it and practice more, but will you ever be able to run faster than say, a cheetah? No. There is a limit on how fast you can run that is imposed by your body which will probably always stay out of your reach. You are probably more interested in knowing how you can become good at it?"
She continued when Harry nodded, "It is widely accepted that casting spell successfully depends broadly on two concepts – your understanding of the spell, which includes your knowledge of it, your familiarity with it, and your overall understanding of magic, and the second is your inner strength, which includes how strong you are emotionally, and how confident you are in your ability to perform the spell. Both of these concepts are codependent. You need to meet the criteria for both in order to perform the spell successfully. Some other conditions might also affect your casting of the spell such as the state of mind you are in or the type of your wand, which might have a predilection towards a particular type of magic or which limits the amount of power it can channel for you."
Wow, the most obvious news flash – this won't be a piece of cake. At least this sounded familiar to Harry. He can safely rule out that information provided by Gilderoy Lockhart was wrong. He just wished he could take notes here.
Seeing the look on Harry's face, she added, "You don't have to always keep that in mind while casting a spell. It will start to become instinctual as you become proficient at casting magic. All you need to do is to truly want to learn magic and make an effort towards it… I have to admit, Mr. Potter, your questions have surprised me. They are very Ravenclaw in nature."
"A girl was talking in the robe shop about Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw! What exactly are they?"
"They are two of the four houses at Hogwarts."
She took out her wand and flicked it in the air. Four crests appeared in the air making a rhombus. Nobody sitting near them was surprised at their sudden appearance.
"Each student is sorted into one of our four houses according to the qualities they demonstrate. Hufflepuff," she pointed to a badger looking to its right amidst a yellow background, "is the house that respects loyalty and friendship. They are also very hard-working people who would give their all if they put their minds to anything."
"Ravenclaw," pointing to an eagle spanning its wings in a blue background, "is the house of smarts and logical thinking. They want knowledge. Most scholars and magic researchers go there."
"Gryffindor," pointing to a roaring lion raising one of its claws, "is a house that admires bravery and courage. They are people of action. They are instinctual and are prone to act first and think later about the thing that they decide to do."
"Slytherin," a curled snake forking its tongue and looking to its left, the only one among the four to do so, "is our last house, one which esteems cunning and ambition. They are often selected as high ministry office heads for their single-mindedness and ruthlessness in achieving their goals."
"Each house has a long history of powerful witches and wizards who have shaped our world. Your house will exemplify the traits that will carry you forward in your life. Your house will be your family for the remainder of your Hogwarts stay and even after that. You will live in your house's dorm rooms, attend classes and study with them, and eat your food with them."
Harry was fascinated. Magic was so awesome, and these qualities were not at all exclusive. Where would he fit, he wondered. Hufflepuff sounded very nice – he loved the thought of such a group. Gryffindor would be great too – an occasional daring wasn't amiss for him, though he was hardly the person to jump into action without thinking. He was in the end all about patience and logical thinking. He had to be in order to survive with the Dursleys, who, now that he thought about it, wouldn't quite fit in any house. He liked to think of himself as cunning and ambitious too. Harry had never thought about his qualities. Huh. I didn't realize I thought of myself so highly. Another thought entered his mind. Is this arrogance?
"How exactly do we demonstrate these qualities?" Harry asked, testing out the new word.
"That… is a secret. Not even the students living in the wizarding world are supposed to know. You will be sorted first thing when you reach Hogwarts."
Harry wondered what it could be. Probably some sort of test. He'd have to prepare for it if that was the case. There was so much that he needed to know.
Soon after that, they were no longer the waiters. Merlin's Cheezy Roast turned out to be a normal meal with roasted meat and potato, albeit with the extra cheese, and Vol-au-vent was a pastry filled with chicken in it. Professor McGonagall also informed him that Vol-au-vents weren't exclusive to the wizarding world. It was all delicious though. Few young boys and girls had approached them to say hello to Professor McGonagall. Harry wasn't surprised to see that she was well liked there. However, he could see an occasional person shifting their eyes on seeing them.
Harry was imagining his stay at Hogwarts. It was going to be amazing. Learning magic, doing magic, making friends, and having fun. No longer would there be any Dursleys to hold him back. The memory of his conversation with the bully in the robe shop flashed to his mind. It wouldn't be all sunshine and roses though. He told Professor McGonagall about his meeting with that boy.
Professor McGonagall was giving him a severe look as they finished their lunch. "I have always felt aggrieved that some witches and wizards look down upon muggleborns. Can you guess the reason why that is so?"
Harry, who had always been looked down upon because he was different, felt that he understood it better than the professor thought he should. "Because you are a nice person."
Professor McGonagall blinked. "I… thank you Mr. Potter, but you know I wasn't asking that."
Harry smiled. "Because they are bad people. They think that because they have lived in the magical world, they are somehow better, or muggleborns are somehow worse than them." It was the opposite of how the Dursleys felt, yet it was the same thinking.
The professor nodded staring at him through her glasses. "Yes, that is one of the reasons. It is a natural instinct for people to think that they are better than the other. And they instinctively oppose something which they do not understand or which is unlike them. Another reason for this prejudice is fear. They fear the change that muggleborns bring with them. They fear the opposition that they bring against their practices, their beliefs, and their culture."
Fear. He realized then that his aunt and uncle had feared him too all this time. The professor looked at him before speaking again. Something in her voice compelled him to pay attention.
"It goes both ways, Mr. Potter. It has been my experience that most muggleborns at some point of time start feeling out of place in the magical world, either in discomfort as they lose their sense of belonging when they fail to understand our customs and practices, or when they can't deal with the same prejudices that some people have against them. Whenever you can't understand something or think of something to be wrong, know that that practice and behavior has been established over many centuries. Disapproval of it shouldn't be stated lightly, even if you believe you are right. Do you understand, Mr. Potter?"
Harry thought about it. It all made sense to him. The Dursleys had always attacked him without ever trying to understand. "Yes Professor. It makes sense."
"Good. Now let us go get the rest of your things."
Flourish and Blotts was the bookshop where he was supposed to buy his books. There were columns of shelves stacked to the ceiling with books of all sizes, from a postage stamp to the size of a car. Harry had stood five minutes staring at the huge book trying to comprehend its existence. He decided to ask a bushy haired girl who was sitting on a stool near it reading a book.
"Um, excuse me."
The girl who seemed to be his age looked up with a flash of annoyance.
"I am sorry, were you trying to read?"
The girl looked affronted. "You are the one who looks like someone who tries to read!"
"I am sorry?"
"You should be!" she went back to her book looking like she couldn't believe that someone would interfere with her reading.
Harry decided to forget that this happened. He looked around the shop looking for his textbooks. There were books of all kinds, some moving on their own, some with claws, some changing their content based on who was reading, some with moving pictures, and some were completely blank. Apart from his course list, he picked up any book that was based on anything that he read in the Gilderoy Lockhart book at his home. Some books were even written by him, easily recognizable by his flashing smile and shining robes on the covers. He also picked up a book on wizarding culture, two on wizarding history, few on magical tales and myths, and one about famous wizards and witches.
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at the number of books he had brought back to the counter. "The Hogwarts library is quite extensive. I am sure you can find most of these books there." On seeing his dejected expression, she continued with a smile, "but I am sure they will come in handy when you are not at Hogwarts."
When they exited Flourish and Blotts, he saw a group of children gathering in front of the next shop. Were they gawking at a… broom? A highly decorated, cool looking one though. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -" Was it very fast at cleaning things? Why would they stare at a broom?
"Um, Professor. Why are those boys ogling a broom?"
She turned to look at where he was pointing. "A Nimbus Two Thousand!... Oh, I apologize, Mr. Potter, we use brooms for flying instead of cleaning things. This particular broom is used to fly in one of our sports, Quidditch. It is believed to be the fastest broom ever created."
Harry's eyes widened. "That doesn't sound very safe. How do we fly on them?"
Her lips twitched. "Magic. There are enchantments to make them comfortable, as well as to make it hard to fall off of them. Even if we fall, it is rare for a wizard to be killed by the fall. One of the differences between a muggle and us is physical endurance. It is very hard to injure us."
Wow, Harry thought for the umptieth time.
They bought a cauldron and a set of scales at the cauldron shop, a telescope at the Astronomical Desires, and some potion ingredients at the apothecary – the most disgusting shop he had ever been to. He was so going to have nightmares about the dead dung beetles crawling on his eyeballs which would be detached and preserved in a jar near his body.
Now all that was left was a wand, a magic wand, the thing he was most looking forward to.
That turned out to be another super weird experience. His skin first prickled as he entered the dusty shop. It seemed like he was being measured down by some strange power. And then, an old man emerged from thin air, scaring the lights out of him. He could look past Professor McGonagall's glamour charm. He proceeded to describe the wands of his parents and their killer to him in detail without blinking an eye. And then, after an hour, when Harry started to feel like no wand wanted to choose him, one wand did, filling him with warmth and letting out a stream of red and gold sparks, along with a glowing baby shaped figure that winked at him. A shape that he recognized.
A very powerful wand, Ollivander told, just like it's brother. It seems wands have brothers too, and his wand's brother was used by You-Know-Who. Talk about coincidence. Or fate. Even Professor McGonagall was astonished.
Harry walked out of the wand shop with a dizzy look on his face, looking at his wand in wonder.
"Now, Mr. Potter, remember, you are not supposed to use your wand outside of Hogwarts. The Ministry of Magic can detect its use, and can land you in trouble, or even expelling you from Hogwarts."
Harry nodded distractedly. His mind still on his meeting with Ollivander. He mentioned that he had his mother's eyes. That was the first time anyone had ever said so.
"Did you teach my parents? Do I really have my mother's eyes?" he asked in an uneven voice.
"…Yes, I did. You really are their child. Your mother's eyes, and your father's look." She was looking at him like Aunt Petunia looked at Dudley. "They were my dear friends and students. Your mother was one of the brightest students that Hogwarts has ever produced. She was a very sweet and caring girl, and was among the few to become a charm's master at her age. Your father on the other hand… was very mischievous. He was very talented in Transfiguration, and that is a very high praise coming from the transfiguration mistress at Hogwarts."
She touched his cheek, "You can approach me anytime you want to hear about your parents at Hogwarts."
Harry was listening to her intently, "Thank you, Professor. All I had ever heard of them was that they were a no-good drunk, unemployed couple who died in a car crash."
He cursed the Dursleys again. They always said that he would turn out to be a no-good waste of space like his parents. Well, guess what, Pillocks, you were right for once - I would become just like my parents!
"What happened to the letter you sent to that Dumbledore? Would I have to go back to them?"
Professor McGonagall looked at him sadly. "I received a reply when you were buying your clothes. I am sorry, Harry, but the place has many protective charms for your protection."
Protection? Harry sighed. Lyanna's letter too had hinted that some people opposed and hated him. "It's ok. I can handle them for a few more weeks. But what is it that I have to be safe from?"
She hesitated before answering him, "Not all of You-Know-Who's followers were captured. A few escaped detections, and some escaped punishment. Not everyone believes that their master is completely dead. Even Professor Dumbledore has his suspicions. Harry, to them, You-Know-Who is alive. The remaining Death Eaters, those who were his followers, are alive. They can harm you in any way that they can imagine, including muggle ways. Your house is guarded by wards which protect you from anyone wishing you harm."
Harry blinked. "He is alive?!" he exclaimed. "I was told that they found his burnt body after he killed me. What do you mean he can be alive?"
"You-Know-Who is one of the darkest wizards to ever set his foot in this world. He had done such despicable deeds, inhumane rituals that even the worst Death Eater would cringe on hearing about them. I don't know whether he is alive or not. Logic says yes, but logic also says that one shouldn't be able to perform the deeds that he did. It was rumored that he had taken steps to ensure that he cannot be killed."
Professor McGonagall clasped his hands and dropped down to his level. "I want you to know Harry, that you don't have to worry. Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world. If he is indeed alive, then he is in a very weak state as evidenced by the 10 years of peace we have had since that day."
Harry nodded. Bombshell after bombshell had hit him in the past few hours. He was surprised that he was taking it all this well. The thought of his safety hadn't even entered his mind. Probably due to that potion that Professor McGonagall gave me earlier. Now that he thought about it, if You-Know-Who indeed came back to life, then he would be on the top of his most wanted list. It came to him that he was worried that a man whose body was completely burned could come back to life, and would attempt to kill him. What else was there he needed to be concerned about? Now that he thought about it…
"Has anyone ever come back to life before?" And didn't she say that it is one of magic's rule that mucking about with life forces had grave consequences?
Professor McGonagall stared at him as if this was the first time she had heard this question and then shook her head. "Never. No-one in the past thousand years at least. Just like no one had ever survived the killing curse."
Harry had a bad feeling when he heard that. The same feeling he got when he learned that he was chosen by the brother wand of You-Know-Who's.
Professor McGonagall stood up and checked their surroundings. Indeed, few people were staring at them. "Like I said, you do not need to worry about this. Now that you have bought everything you need to attend Hogwarts, we just need one thing that I need to buy for you. Think of it as an early birthday present."
"You don't have to, Professor! You have done enough for me today."
"Enough for a professor at Hogwarts perhaps, not enough for your parent's friend. Think of it as something I am gifting to your parents. Come on, Mr. Potter, we are gathering a crowd."
Harry was still embarrassed but gave her a nod. No one had ever taken him to buy a birthday present. There were so many things happening today that had never happened ever.
"How about a cat? Some students bring a pet with them at Hogwarts."
"Cat! No, I hate cats. Anyway, I already have an owl. Can one bring two pets?" Harry questioned, not noticing her narrowed eyes.
"Why do you hate cats, Mr. Potter?" Professor asked in a tone that caused him to look at her.
Harry backtracked. "It's not that I hate cats… It's just that cats seem like they hate everyone. And they are creepy. Do you know how a cat expresses its love? By staring at you blankly. I was totally creeped out by one such cat. One time after that, another cat was staring at me. I thought that it liked me, so I went to pet her. She attacked me! Apparently, if they stare at you, it likes you, but if it does it for too long, then it is planning to attack you."
The professor was staring at him unblinkingly throughout. "Oh, and what do you like? A Dog?"
"Why, yes. I love dogs! They are fun. But I don't think a dog was mentioned in the list of pets for Hogwarts."
Harry recognized now that Professor McGonagall was glaring at him, and he wasn't sure why. "You don't have to buy me a dog. It's your present. I will nevertheless love my cat forever, even though I would never be able to tell if it loves me."
Professor McGonagall was still glaring at him, and was about to reply when two red-haired boys… twins approached them.
One exclaimed, "Hey Professor! What has this poor kid done…"
"done to get you…" the other continued
"so out of shape? It's just like that time…" the first picked up.
"when you punished us…"
"for someone stealing all the clothes…"
"of a first-year brat, and apparently…"
"also managing to vanish the kid's robes…"
"in Snape's class no less, leaving the kid…"
"in his underwear!" one exclaimed, looking at the other in confusion.
"and the poor kid didn't even have a twin to take the heat." The other said.
Harry shuttled between them as they alternated. What was that? Harry unconsciously checked his miniature trunk in this pocket.
"You are advised to keep your distance here, Weasleys. The term might not have started, but don't think that I can't punish you," the professor said angrily.
"She is not mad at me!" Harry interjected defensively before they could reply. Harry was quite sure she liked him. "We were going to buy a pet for me, and she was just asking why I hate… I mean, don't like cats over dogs."
The professor turned sharply towards him as Uncle Vernon would if he had said the M-word.
"Isn't that…" one of them began.
"quite interesting…"
"and hilarious. Why ever so…"
"would Professor be mad at him…"
"for wanting to buy a dog. We must have…"
"misunderstood. We will see you…" both turned to him.
"and your dog…"
"at Hogwarts!"
They were gone before he could blink. He thought he was missing many things to make sense of what just happened. Is it just that Professor McGonagall likes cats? That would be a very silly reason.
He turned towards the professor. "As I said before, I would be h-happy to buy a cat."
"That's enough, Mr. Potter. No power in the world is going to stop me now from getting you one of those mongrels," she said, from what he could perceive, quite furiously.
"You don't have to! In fact, I didn't think you'd be cross just over me liking a dog. We could get something else. A present should be something that should be given lovingly. I'd prefer a cat to a dog now."
The professor sighed. "I am not crossed with you, Mr. Potter. My dislike for dogs… is irrational, I suppose. I am sure you'd know the reason soon enough. A present should also be one that one thinks would be truly appreciated by the receiver. I do not want to gift you a cat now – that's enough now," she said when Harry was about to reply, "I don't want to listen to another word now."
With that, an excited and mesmerized boy, and a resigned and irate lady left to buy a dog.
A/N: This chapter was a real challenge to write. Not only did I have to give Harry all this information and include all these dialogues, I also had to make it interesting. I loved writing this chapter. Hope you guys liked it! Next chapter - soon!