Life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered; the Weasleys' house burst with the strange and unexpected. Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!" The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. What Amy, Harry, Grace, and Taylor found most unusual about life at the Weasleys', however, wasn't the talking mirror or the clanking ghoul: It was the fact that everybody there seemed to like them.
Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of Harry's socks and tried to force Taylor, Grace, Harry, and Amy to eat fourth helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harry, Grace, and Taylor to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard them with questions about life with Muggles, asking them to explain how things like plugs and the postal service worked.
Mr. Weasley: Fascinating! Ingenious, really, how many ways Muggles have found of getting along without magic. Taylor, Grace, Amy, and Harry heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after they had arrived at the Burrow. Harry and Ron went down to
breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Taylor, Grace, Amy, and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face glowing like the setting sun. Pretending he hadn't noticed this, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs.
Weasley offered him.
Mr. Weasley: Letters from school.
Mr. Weasley, passed Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink.
Taylor: We wanted to wait for you two to come down so we can open our letters together.
Mr. Weasley: Dumbledore already knows you four are here, Harry—doesn't miss a trick, that man. You four have got them, too.
Bill, Charlie, Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas. For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters.
Two pins came out of Charlie's envelope
Charlie: Hey look I'm a prefect and Quidditch captain!
Mrs. Weasley: Oh congratulations Charlie!
Bill: Join the club of Prefects Charlie.
Amy and Ginny's letters told them the list of what they need for the school year.
Harry, Ron, Grace, and Taylor's told them to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross Station on September first. There was also a list of the new books they'd need for the coming year.
Second-year students will require:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2
by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee
by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls
by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags
by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls
by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires
by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves
by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti
by Gilderoy Lockhart
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Taylor's.
Fred: You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too! The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it's a witch.
At this point, Fred caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
Bill: That lot won't come cheap. Lockhart's books are really expensive…
Mrs. Weasley: Well, we'll manage. I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."
Harry: Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?
She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair,
and put her elbow in the butter dish. Fortunately no one saw this except Harry.
Grace: You didn't know? Well she's a few months younger than Amy. So of course she's starts Hogwarts this year.
Just then Ron's elder brother Percy walked in. He
was already dressed.
Percy: Morning, all. Lovely day.
He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster — at least, that was what Harry, Grace, Amy, and Taylor thought it was, until
they saw that it was breathing.
Ron: Errol!
Ron took the limp owl from Percy and extracted a letter from under its wing.
Ron: Finally — he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you four from the Dursleys.
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead. Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:
Ron: 'Dear Ron, Taylor, Grace, and Harry if you're there,
'I hope everything went all right and that the Potters are okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get them out, Ron, because that would get them into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if they are all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off. 'I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course'-How can she be? We're on vacation!-'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.'
Mrs. Weasley: Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too. What're you all up to today?"
Charlie, Bill, Taylor, Grace, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high. They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead they threw apples for one another to catch. Everyone found out that Taylor and Grace are great players. Charlie told them to try out for the team as chasers. They said they would. They took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies. Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harry, Grace, and Taylor had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.
Fred: Wish I knew what he was up to. He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; all O's
and he hardly gloated at all.
The walked in silence when suddenly Bill broke the silence.
Bill: Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year. Seven sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything…
Harry, Taylor, and Grace said nothing. They felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that their parents had left them. Of course, it was only in the Wizarding World that they had money; you couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in Muggle shops. They had never mentioned their Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; they didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold. Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
Mrs. Weasley: We're running low, Arthur. We'll have to buy some more today… Ah well, guests first! After you four!
She offered Grace the flowerpot.
Grace stared at them all watching her.
Grace: W-what am I supposed to do?
Ron: They've never traveled by Floo powder. Sorry,
Grace, I forgot.
Mr. Weasley: Never? But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
Taylor: We went on the Underground…
Mr. Weasley: Really? Were there escapators? How exactly…
Mrs. Weasley: Not now, Arthur. Floo powder is a lot quicker, dears, but goodness me, if you've never used it before…
Fred: They'll be all right, Mum. Watch us first.
He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it,
Fred: Diagon Alley!
He vanished.
Mrs. Weasley: You must speak clearly, dears.
George dipped his hand into the flowerpot.
Mrs. Weasley: And be sure to get out at the right grate…
Harry: The right what?
The fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.
Mrs. Weasley: Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly…
Mr. Weasley: They'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss.
Mrs. Weasley: But, dear, if they got lost, how would we ever explain to their aunt and uncle?
Amy: They wouldn't mind. Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if we got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that…
Mrs. Weasley: Well . . . all right . . . you go after Arthur. Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going…
Ron: And keep your elbows tucked in.
Mrs. Weasley: And your eyes shut. The soot…
Ron: Don't fidget. Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace…
Mrs. Weasley: But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George.
Taylor: Amy, let's go together.
Amy nodded.
Taylor took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Taylor and Amy, who stepped right into it,
Taylor: Diagon Alley!
They vanished.
Grace sensing Harry's uneasiness took his hand.
Grace: Why don't we go together?
Harry nodded. Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. They took deep breaths, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; Harry opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.
Harry: D-Dia-gon Alley.
It felt as though they were being sucked down a giant drain. They seemed to be spinning very fast — the roaring in their ears was deafening—they tried to keep their eyes open but the whirl of green flames made them feel sick—something hard knocked their elbows and they tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning, now it felt as though cold hands were slapping their faces—Harry squinted through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond. Grace saw fireplaces and other rooms; their bacon sandwiches were churning inside them—Harry closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then, they fell, face forward, onto cold stone and Harry felt the bridge of his glasses snap. Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, they got gingerly to their feet, Harry holding his broken glasses up to his eyes. They were quite alone, but where they were, they had no idea. All they could tell was that they were standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop—but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list. A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry and Grace could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley. The sooner they got out of here, the better. Nose still stinging where it had hit the hearth, Harry and Grace made their way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before they'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass—and one of them was the very last person Harry and Grace wanted to meet when they were lost, covered in soot, and Harry wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy. Harry and Grace looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to their left; they shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop. The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son.
Mr. Malfoy: Touch nothing, Draco.
Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye.
Draco: I thought you were going to buy me a present.
Mr. Malfoy: I said I would buy you a racing broom.
Draco: What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team? Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous . . . famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…
Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.
Draco: …everyone thinks they're so smart, wonderful Potters and Harry with his scar and his broomstick…
Mr. Malfoy: You have told me this at least a dozen times already. And I would remind you that it is not prudent to appear less than fond of the Potters, not when most of our kind regards them as the heroes who made the Dark Lord disappear—ah, Mr. Borgin.
A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
Mr. Borgin: Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again. Delighted—and young Master Malfoy, too—charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced…
Mr. Malfoy: I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling.
Mr. Borgin: Selling?
Mr. Malfoy: You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids. I have a few—ah—items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…
Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.
Mr. Malfoy: The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?
Mr. Borgin: I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it…
Harry and Grace felt a hot surge of anger.
Mr. Malfoy: …and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear…
Mr. Borgin: I understand, sir, of course. Let me see…
Draco: Can I have that?
Draco pointed at the withered hand on its cushion.
Mr. Borgin: Ah, the Hand of Glory! Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir.
Mr. Malfoy: I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin,"
Mr. Borgin: No offense, sir, no offense meant…
Mr. Malfoy: Though if his grades don't pick up, that may indeed be all he is fit for.
Draco: It's not my fault. The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger…
Mr. Malfoy: I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam.
Grace: Ha!
She is pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.
Mr. Borgin: It's the same all over. Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere,
Mr. Malfoy: Not with me.
Mr. Borgin: No, sir, nor with me, sir.
Mr. Malfoy: In that case, perhaps we can return to my list. I am in something of a hurry, Borgin; I have important business elsewhere today.
They started to haggle. Grace and Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to their hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, "Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed—Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date".
Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward — he stretched out his hand for the handle.
Mr. Malfoy: Done. Come, Draco.
Harry and Grace wiped their foreheads on their sleeves as Draco turned away.
Mr. Malfoy: Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods.
The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.
Mr. Borgin: Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor.
Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry and Grace waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as they could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door. Clutching his broken glasses to his face, Harry stared around. They had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one they'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching them from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry and Grace set off, Harry, trying to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope they'd be able to find a way out of here. An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told them they were in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as Grace and Harry had never heard of such a place. They supposed Harry hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, they wondered what to do.
Witch: Not lost are you, my dears?
Harry and Grace backed away.
Grace: We're fine, thanks. We're just…
Hagrid: HARRY! GRACE! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"
Harry and Grace's hearts leapt. So did the witch and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.
Harry: Hagrid! We were lost; Floo powder…
Hagrid seized Harry and Grace by the scruff of their necks and pulled them away from the witch. Grace and Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance — Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered them right into Diagon Alley.
Hagrid: Yer a mess!
He brushed soot off Harry and Grace so forcefully he nearly knocked them into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary.
Hagrid: Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno, dodgy place, you two; don' want no one ter see yeh down there…
Grace: We realized that, Harry told you, we were lost — what were you doing down there, anyway?
Hagrid: I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent.
Hagrid: They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own?
Harry: We're staying with the Weasleys but we got separated. We've got to go and find them.
They set off together down the street.
Hagrid: How come yeh never wrote back ter me?
Harry and Grace explained all about Dobby and the Dursleys.
Hagrid: Lousy Muggles. If I'd've known…
Hermione: Harry! Grace! Over here!"
Harry and Grace looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. Grace gave her a hug.
Hermione: Where's Taylor and Amy? What happened to your glasses Harry? Hello, Hagrid—Oh, it's wonderful to see you three again—Are you coming into Gringotts?
Grace: As soon as we've found the Weasleys, Taylor and Amy.
Hagrid: Yeh won't have long ter wait.
Grace, Harry, and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Taylor, Amy, Bill, Charlie, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley. Taylor and Amy tackled Harry and Grace in a hug. Then Taylor gave Hermione a hug.
Mr. Weasley: Harry, Grace. We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far. Molly's frantic—she's coming now.
Ron: Where did you come out?
Hagrid: Knockturn Alley.
Fred and George: Excellent!
Charlie: We've never been allowed in.
Hagrid: I should ruddy well think not.
Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.
Mrs. Weasley: Oh, Harry, Grace—oh, my dear—you could have been anywhere…
Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.
Hagrid: Well, gotta be off. See yer at Hogwarts!
And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.
Harry: Guess who we saw in Borgin and Burkes? Malfoy and his father."
Mr. Weasley: Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?
Grace: No, he was selling…
Mr. Weasley: So he's worried. Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something.
Mrs. Weasley: You be careful, Arthur. That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew…
Mr. Weasley: So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?
But the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them, distracted him almost at once.
Mr. Weasley: But you're Muggles! We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!
Ron: Meet you back here.
Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and the Potters were led off to their underground vaults by another
Gringotts goblin. The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. The Potters enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the
Weasleys' vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than Grace and Harry had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. The Potters felt even worse when they reached their vault.
Taylor grabbed eight bags. And filled each bag up to the brim with coins. She then gave each bag to every one of the Weasleys. She stopped at Mrs. Weasley.
Taylor: Why don't you get Ginny a brand new wand, robes, and books?
Then she went back and the Potters filled up four bags with money for themselves.
Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Bill had spotted his girlfriend, Fleur (A/N I know Fleur goes to another school but you'll understand later). Charlie saw some of his friends. Mrs. Weasley took Ginny and Amy to a robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
Mrs. Weasley: We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny and Amy.
Mrs. Weasley: And not one step down Knockturn Alley!
She shouted at the twins' retreating backs.
Taylor, Grace, Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. Grace and Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on "Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks", and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called "Prefects Who Gained Power".
Ron: A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers. That sounds fascinating. Percy you're not a prefect.
Percy: Not yet. Go away.
Ron: Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out… He wants to be Minister of Magic.
An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. A large banner stretched across the upper windows proclaimed the reason for this:
'GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography "MAGICAL ME" today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.'
Grace: We can actually meet him!
Hermione: I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door.
Wizard: Calmly, please, ladies… Don't push, there… mind the books, now…
Taylor, Grace, Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells,
Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
Mrs. Weasley: Oh, there you are, good. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair.
Mrs. Weasley: We'll be able to see him in a minute.
Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.
A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.
Photographer: Out of the way, there. This is for the Daily Prophet.
Ron: Big deal.
Ron rubbed his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.
Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron
and then he saw the Potters. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted
Lockhart: It can't be the Potters?
The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, Harry pulled his siblings along with him. Lockhart pulled them to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Lockhart shook each of their
hands for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.
Lockhart: Nice big smile Potters. Together, you and I are worth the front page.
The Potters tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around Grace and Taylor's shoulders and clamped them tightly to his side.
Lockhart: Ladies and gentlemen. What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When the young Potters here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present them now, free of charge. They had no idea, that they would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, "Magical Me". Them and their schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!
The crowd cheered and clapped and the Potters found themselves being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, they managed to make their way out of the
limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.
Harry: You have these
Harry tipped the books into the cauldron.
Harry: I'll buy my own…
Draco: Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potters? Famous Potters. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
Ginny: Leave them alone, they didn't want all that! said
Draco: Potters, you've got yourselves a protector!
Ginny went scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.
Ron: Oh, it's you. Bet you're surprised to see
Harry here, eh?
Draco: Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
Ron: Nope.
Ron said popping the 'p'
He dropped his books into the cauldron
Mr. Weasley: Ron! What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside.
Mr. Malfoy: Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley.
Mr. Weasley: Lucius.
Mr. Malfoy: Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those
raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?
He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a copy of "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration".
Mr. Malfoy: Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
Mr. Weasley flushed darker than Ginny.
Mr. Weasley: We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.
Mr. Malfoy: Clearly,"
His pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively.
Mr. Malfoy: The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower…
There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spell books came thundering down on all their heads.
Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George: Get him, Dad!
Mrs. Weasley was shrieking
Mrs. Weasley: No, Arthur, no!
The crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over.
Assistant: Gentlemen, please — please!
Hagrid: Break it up, there, gents, break it up.
Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and an Encyclopedia of Toadstools had hit Mr. Malfoy in the eye. He was still holding Ginny's Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.
Mr. Malfoy: Here, girl — take your book.
Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to
Draco and swept from the shop.
Hagrid: Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur. Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that — no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter — bad blood, that's what it is — come on now — let's get outta here.
The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.
Mrs. Weasley: A fine example to set for your children… brawling in public.
But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where the Potters, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder. They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face. Harry took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket, then Grace grabbed his hand before helping herself to Floo powder. It definitely wasn't their favorite way to travel.