Bella stared at the shopping list in her hands with the exact same utter revulsion she'd shown the first time around.
FOURTH-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 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
The first time she'd picked up a Lockhart book she'd thought it was fiction, and humor at that. A clever satirical piece written in the point of view of an overly self-confident and equally ill-equipped wizard. To find out Gilderoy Lockhart was, in fact, a real man, and worse that he had genuinely meant every word had pulled the rug from beneath her feet. She'd thought it impossible to be that witless, but here she was, avoiding the ceaseless line outside Flourish and Blotts where he just so happened to be signing copies of his autobiography, Magical Me, the very same day Bella had decided to get her school shopping out of the way.
The last weeks of her summer had been near-ruined. Bella had been looking forward to finally having a competent DADA professor after what had happened with Quivering Quirrell, but if the new one—and Bella suspected it was a very desperate witch—was a Lockhart fan, she doubted she'd learn much of anything unless she did it on her own. And she did, learn on her own that is, all the time. Bella Lestrange was very used to her own company, and it was starting to wear on her. Bella had even caught herself staring at Cedric Diggory while he was at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour with his Hufflepuff friends, wondering if his lips were as soft as they looked. Ridiculous. She knew she was at an age where teenage hormones began to bloom, but this was very quickly getting out of hand if she'd started to daydream about Diggory of all the air-headed numpties in her year. It could've only been worse if she'd started to dream about one of the Weasley twins. Or both.
So yes, Bella was feeling very lonely that summer, and very silly every time she thought of her little Gryffindors. Harry hadn't answered a single letter she'd sent, and she'd stopped trying after the first few weeks. Hermione had been sweet enough to write her once a week, though most of her letters involved a back and forth about schoolwork before school even began. Bella had visited the Burrow only once, while Hermione had been there, and enjoyed her time with the Weasley twins far more than she had expected—far more than they had expected, either.
Fred and George were a lot smarter than she had ever given them credit for, and she suspected a lot of the other students in their year had done the same. They, too, had begun exchanging letters, but Bella felt awkward writing to them now that boys were on the menu. She didn't want to encourage those silly feelings. The little Gryffindors were safer, yes, but she wasn't sure if they actually liked her or if they just felt some sort of debt to her for saving their lives repeatedly. Bella was never sure if she actually had any friends. She never had trouble getting along with anyone, but, her cruel mind would remind her, these were all Gryffindors. When the school year began they'd be back to being as competitive as ever. They wouldn't dare be seen with her in public unless they needed her for something.
Bella stopped short on the street, spotting a very familiar head of zappy black hair and very round, very broken glasses. Oh honestly, you'd think I'd summoned him.
"POTTER! What in Morgana's name are you down there?!"
The hag that had been harassing him leapt back; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she curses as Bella came striding toward them, her colourful eyes boring down hard over the very sheepish looking Boy Wonder covered in soot.
"Bella!" Harry croaked in relief. "I was lost—Floo powder—"
Bella seized Harry by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Bella could see Gringotts in the distance, with it's snow-white marble columns. She steered him right out of Knockturn Alley and didn't let go until they were safely past the unspoken border and into Diagon Alley.
"Look at the state of you!" she clucked her tongue, whipping out her wand and muttering out a spell—with a flourish and a pop, Harry was clean as a whistle and his robes were perfectly in place, his broken glasses fixed. He stared down at himself with his mouth agape, absolutely shocked, "skulking about Knockturn Alley on your own like that, honestly, what has gotten into you? That's not the sort of place you want to be seen, Potter—"
"I realized that," Harry seemed to have remembered that he could speak, "I told you, I was lost—what were you doing down there, anyway?"
"I'm a Slytherin," Bella rolled her eyes dismissively, "what're you doing here on your own again? Where're the Muggles?"
"I'm staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," Harry explained, "Hermione said you'd be shopping today too—there's loads of stuff I've got to tell you, I haven't been getting any letters if you've sent any to me—"
And so Harry told her all about Dobby the House Elf and the Dursleys and how Ron, Fred and George had broken him out with a flying car.
"Muggles," Bella growled, "if I'd have known—"
"Hang on, you're not old enough to use magic either, how'd you clean me up without getting in trouble?" Harry seemed to realize very suddenly, coming to a halt.
"You can use magic in crowded wizarding places, there's too much going on here, the Ministry can't keep track," Bella rolled her eyes, "it's how places like Knockturn survive in the cracks and the shadows. They'll do a raid every now and again, of course, but they'll have a hard time tracking magic here."
"Harry! Bella! Over here!"
Bella and Harry looked up and saw Hermione 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.
"Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again—are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"
"As soon as we've found the Weasleys," said Harry.
"Be careful what you wish for," Bella murmured.
Harry and Hermione looked around: sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far…"
He mopped his glistening forehead, "Molly's frantic—she's coming now—"
"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.
"Knockturn Alley," Bella was cross all over again.
"Excellent!" said Fred and George together.
"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.
"I should hope not," Bella's retort was rather snarky.
Mrs. Weasley now came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.
"Oh, Harry—oh, my dear—you could have been anywhere—"
Gasping for breath, she surged ahead, checking Harry all over for any sign of damage. As soon as she was done, she was on Bella, who only managed a step back before she was on her, doing the very same, "Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Bella dear! Oh, but what were you doing there on your own? You must promise me you'll never set foot in that awful place again! A pretty thing like you, oh, I dread to even think of it!"
"I should be off," Bella tried desperately to escape Mrs. Weasley's embrace, just barely catching herself before she could swat the short, stout woman's hand from touching her again, "it seems like everyone's decided to do their Hogwarts Shopping today, crowds everywhere...lots to do...see you on the train, ta!"
"Bye Bella!" Harry waved at her as she turned over her tall shoulder to shoot him a fond crooked smile.
She managed, for over an hour, to avoid Weasleys, Grangers and a certain Boy-Who-Lived while simultaneously putting off her inevitable trip to Flourish and Blotts. Bella glared mutinously at her favourite shop every time she had to walk past to get something else she definitely didn't need. Soon, she had new robes packed into her extension-charmed book bag, and then a rather lovely pair of snake fang earrings from a seedy corner of Knockturn. This was joined by a new pack of ink pots—she could never have enough—a new raven feather quill, a few sweets, a new wand polishing kit, an unnecessarily ornate telescope, and several new potions supplies. Bella decided she'd probably done enough damage shopping when she caught herself in the Magical Menagerie, looking through cat cages. She wasn't that desperate yet. She had hoped to dawdle enough to avoid having to see the dreadful blond twit face-to-face, but she could see now this would be impossible. The line was growing if little else. Lockhart would be there signing books until midnight by this rate.
Now she slipped sideways around a very put-out witch with a crooked nose who seemed to think she was trying to cut the line, hoping to get out of the shop quick as she could after purchasing her books. Her new strategy was to get out before the fair-haired fathead could make his appeara—
"Oooh, here he comes!"
The mostly middle-aged witches all around her closed in, leaving Bella pinned from all sides with no way out. She scowled, turning venomously over her shoulder as the foolish flock of hens tittered and cooed in awe. 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 whatever poor soul caught his fleeting attention. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matches his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.
A short, irritable man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.
"Out of the way, there," Bella could hear him snarl at a familiar ginger head of hair just ahead of her, moving back to get a better shot, "this is for the Daily Prophet—"
"Big deal," Ron grumbled, but she could see it was too late, the damage was already done.
Gilderoy Lockhart leapt suddenly to his feet and positively shouted, "it can't be Harry Potter?"
But it was. The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dove forward, seized poor Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly,, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.
Bella could see Lockhart mutter something to Harry through his own gleaming teeth. Harry tried to escape as soon as Lockhart let go of his hand, but the bond dunce threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "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 young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip precariously to the very end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me."
No.
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The crowd cheered and clapped as Bella watched Harry get weighed down with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart, thrust into those short, skinny arms. Bella felt as if she'd been slapped in the face. So grave was her horror that she hadn't noticed tiny little Ginny settle by her side, nor that Harry was heading straight towards them.
"You have these," he mumbled to the girl beside her, tipping the books into her secondhand cauldron, "I'll buy my own—"
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Bella turned at the same time Harry had, finding herself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer.
"Famous Harry Potter," spat Malfoy, "can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
The woman who'd been standing just behind Bella—and now in front of her—shifted to the left, leaving her exposed. Malfoy stopped short with a frown, "oh. Hello Lestrange."
"Malfoy," she wasn't very impressed, "haven't you got anything better to do than make a fool of yourself in public?"
His lips curled up in a snarl, but Ron and Hermione had fought their way over, stopping short at the sight of their confrontation.
"Oh, it's you," Ron looked at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe, "bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy, "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
Ron went as red as his sister. He dropped his books into her cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Bella caught him by the collar of his jacket, "not so fast, little lion."
"Who're—oh!" Ron blanched when he realised it was her. Bella raised an eyebrow coolly, releasing his jacket to turn back to Malfoy, who was looked rather smug.
"Ron!" Mr. Weasley was struggling over with Fred and George, "what are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well—Arthur Weasley."
Bella was all-too-familiar with Lucius Malfoy. He stood with the silver snake head of his ever-present cane rested on his son's shoulder, sneering in just the same way, pale blue eyes cold as ice.
"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.
"Belladonna," Lucius had torn his gaze from the Weasleys only briefly, nodding courteously to her, "I wasn't aware you had made friends with Gryffindors. How...charitable, of you."
"I'm not," she dismisses coolly, ignoring the eyes of hurt that bore into the side of her face, "I've been trapped by the crowd on my way out."
"By all means," Lucius makes room for her with a dramatic sweep of his gloved fist and cane. Bella nods her head gratefully, forced to step sideways and press against him on her way out. It felt as if something had landed in her book bag...probably just a nudge. She stepped out onto the street, taking a greedy breath of crisp fresh air. She could still hear the commotion just through the open shop doors. Bella knew she ought not to, but she hesitated before leaving, lingering just beyond the glass of the front shop window where she could see in.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Lucius. "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 very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
"Obviously not," Lucius said. "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 his children.
"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.
"Clearly," said Lucius, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "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 Lucius, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please—please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all—
"Break it up, there, gents, break it up—"
Hagrid was wading towards them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Lucius apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Lucius had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools.
Bella looked down to hide a cruel smile, shaking her head as she turned, slinking off towards the Leaky Cauldron.