Chapter 14
Harry had never seen the night sky himself; his sight had improved a great deal in his single year of magical schooling and the range of his awareness had increased to encompass a considerable area without any effort on Harry's part. He could probably observe the entire Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts by this point if he really tried. But still, he was a long way from being able to actually observe the night sky himself, needing to rely on the descriptions he had found in books and what he had been told by others. What he had pictured after those descriptions never felt quite right. Like he had been missing some key detail, without which he could never truly envisage the majesty of it. The endless depths of it.
He didn't have that problem anymore. He knew, with a deep resounding certainty that he could feel in his bones, what the night sky looked like now. It looked like the magic hidden in the cloak.
It had taken him a few days to remember the cloak, having buried it in his trunk the Christmas day he had received it, but it had seemed a good idea to put his lesson with Castamir to the test. He had no clue as to the purpose of the clearly magical cloak, so it was an ideal test subject.
It had taken a long time to perceive anything beyond the green of his own magic that filled the weave of the cloak, glimmers of pure white dancing among the silken threads. But after many hours of studying it, letting the cold silk run across his fingers like water across stone, he found himself deeper. He was no longer sat in his chair in Privet Drive. He was floating amongst endless darkness, bright burning points of light piercing through the dark around him. Some were tiny and distant, their light faint and fading. Others were closer, blazing beacons of warmth and colour that fought against the cold dark around them. Most were a clear pure white, but a few of the brighter stars were blue, green, a couple were even orange and red. His own green magic drifted in the dark, strands of it floating around him, twisting and curling into random dizzying shapes.
Only when he began to feel exhausted did he try to leave the endless expanse, the sea of night and stars that looked so truly beautiful. Between one breath and the next he had found himself back in his bedroom, the cloak laying limp in his grasp. Each night since then, he had dreamt of the magic of it. Wondering at its purpose. For it had to be an immense one, the tapestry of magic within it, the expanse it contained, had to be a great and powerful magic.
But along with the wonder and the curiosity, a fear also filled him when he thought of the cloak. He had read about space and the stars in his youth, he had read of the freezing dark that sought to crush and extinguish life and it had terrified him then. Seeing it for himself, even with all of its beauty, brought back that same terror. So, he had wrapped it back up in the creased brown paper it had been delivered in and buried it back in the depths of his trunk. Out of sight but never far from his mind.
Terry's visit with his mother, Rachel, was a welcome distraction from the cloak and its mysteries. Petunia prepared a picnic for them, and they all took a trip to a nearby park, Dudley was invited but refused when he learned it would be with Harry and his friend, choosing to visit his friend Piers for the day instead. Harry could tell his cousin's refusal hurt his aunt, but there was little he could do about it, so he just gave her a hug and tried to cheer her up by helping with the preparations.
The trip to the park was enjoyable, he and Terry spent the afternoon munching on sandwiches and slices of cake and chatting about their summers and school. Terry had been helping his father in the apothecary he ran, his respect for Herbology had grown when he had seen the price of some of the rarer ingredients.
"You know you can never tease Nev about his love of the greenhouses now, don't you?" Harry asked as Terry carefully slipped another one of the Bakewell tarts onto his plate from the hamper on the blanket behind them. Terry had managed to swipe three of the sweet treats already, seemingly without drawing his mother or Petunia's attention, and had no intentions of stopping.
"Well," He said as he swallowed his mouthful of buttery pastry and icing. "I suppose you're right there. I never knew how much you could make from some of those plants. Dad has a box in the back of the shop, its got locks and chains on it and its just got leaves from one of those Venomous Tentacular in it. They're like fifteen galleons a leaf, its mad!"
It seemed a cheap price to Harry when he thought of the danger the ever-hungry plants could cause but he kept that to himself as he nodded.
"So Flitwick didn't say what could be causing your owl problem then?" Terry asked, his appetite sated for the moment as he took a sip of lemonade.
"No, just that it wasn't good and to be careful. He's coming back on Friday to take me back to Diagon, I need to pick up my cane and give Mr Ollivander his back." Harry replied as he patted the wooden cane that lay on the grass beside him. It was a good stick, a similar length to his own and it worked fine for feeling for changes in the ground, but it still felt odd in his grip.
"Oh yeah, I'll ask my dad what he knows about staffs and other focuses for you mate. Gran, his mum, is from an old family and she might have some books about it or something." Terry offered.
"Thanks Terry." Harry waited for his aunt to be looking away before he slipped his own Bakewell tart onto his friend's plate with a grin. "I prefer the Victoria sponge anyway."
By the time Friday came around and Professor Flitwick arrived to accompany Harry to Diagon Alley, he had become rather anxious. The longer he had been without his cane, the more he missed its familiar feel. Objectively, the canes were similar enough that there should have been little to no difference in using one over the other. But this logic didn't prevent Harry's pace from quickening as they approached Ollivander' s shop, nor his disappointment at the locked door he found when he tried to push it open. In his distracted state, he hadn't noticed the closed sign hanging in the window or, perhaps more obviously, the shining enchantments on the front of the shop. A large grid of magic, most of it a dull silver, that covered the building with symbols and smaller enchantments floating in each square of the grid.
"Ah not to worry Harry, Garrick is likely in his workshop at the back of the shop." Professor Flitwick reached forward with his wand before he stopped and settled back in place. "Actually, this is something you should learn to do anyway. There is no official name for it but most people call it 'knocking'. It's a way to inform those within a set of wards that you are outside, like knocking on a front door hence the name." Professor Flitwick explained as he motioned for Harry to draw his own wand. "Now there is no incantation for this piece of magic, it only requires a modicum of control, which you certainly possess. You just need to direct your magic to push against the ward, but you must be gentle. There is a method of breaching wards that uses a similar technique, but instead of touching the ward and withdrawing, the caster can attempt to overpower the enchantments. But I digress, now you've a talent for replicating magic you have witnessed, let's see how you do with this. Give it a go." The Charms Master gestured to the door and took a small step back.
Harry gripped his wand and settled his breathing. A small part of his mind had recognised a few months before that when he used the breathing exercises Professor Flitwick had taught him, his magic would not only flow more easily but strands of it would escape from his skin and writhe in the air, forming shapes and brushing against things around him. The thought had barely formed in his mind when his magic rushed to his wand and burst from the tip in a wave of rippling light. The wave rolled across the short distance between his wand and the door before it met the enchantments that lay across the front of the building. The two magics met with a brief flash as his own magic was immediately dispersed by the grid of magic, one of the symbols on the door glowed brighter for a moment as the ward seemed to tense, like a net pulled taught, before it relaxed again.
"Not bad Harry, not bad at all. That should have caught Garrick's attention." Flitwick patted Harry on the back and only a few seconds later the wandmaker appeared from the depths of his shop, tapping the door with his wand to open it and let them in.
"Excellent timing Mr Potter, Filius. Come in, I will just grab her from the workshop." Ollivander disappeared into the bowels of the building, winding a path between towering piles of wand boxes, before returning with a long black box in his hands. He laid it upon the counter and stepped back with a wide grin on his face, his silver magic whipping excitedly around him. "Well go on, open it up. Tell me what you think."
Harry leant the borrowed cane against the counter and lifted the lid from the box to reveal its contents. Inside was a dark cushioned lining and resting upon the silk was his stave. It looked to be a little longer than when he had handed it to the wandmaker a week before, at least four feet tall now. It was a little thicker, but still only an inch and a half across at most, not like Moody's staff which was at least twice that. The wood was a deep brown and covered in decorative engravings, they were carved deeply enough that Harry could make out most of the detailing. The engravings ran from the bottom of the cane almost all the way to the top, carved to look like vines that stretched up the length of the cane. And hidden, tucked away and disguised to look like part of the decorations, were runes. He didn't recognise any of them, but he could tell they were runes, their shape and form almost whispered to him, he decided then and there that he would definitely be studying more on Ancient Runes, they were just too useful not to learn more about them. The head of the cane had been left relatively unchanged, it still ended with a rounded top but now there were five faintly carved grooves circling the top six inches of the cane, and between each groove were more runes.
Harry had just brushed his fingers across the wood, feeling the carved ridges and furrows in the wood when he heard Ollivander exhale noisily and when he turned to look at the wandmaker he was surprised to see the man looked annoyed.
"Pick it up Mr Potter. Hold it, this is the first stave I've made in nearly thirty years, and only the second I've made at all." Ollivander gestured at the cane that still lay in its box as he leaned forward eagerly. Harry couldn't help but grin at the man acting so childlike and turned back to the box with the remnants of the smile lingering on his face.
He reached across and let his fingers rest on the cool wood for a brief moment before he gripped it and lifted it clear of the counter. The moment his hand closed around it; he immediately noticed his magic acting differently. Much like when he gripped his wand, his magic was moving into the cane, his green magic bleeding into the red and brown of the cane. There was no sudden gout of magical flame and wind like with his wand when he first moved the cane, no sudden light or crash of thunder. No, when he moved his cane, his staff, it felt very different. His wand had always felt eager in his grip, keen to perform magic with him, but the stave felt … heavier. Like the difference between a ball-peen hammer and a sledgehammer. Or a keyboard and a grand piano. Both could theoretically do the same thing, but in practice one took more control, more finesse, more practice. There was no visible magic when he moved his cane, but when he brought it to rest against the ground there was an audible thud, as if something far heavier than a simple wooden cane had come to rest against the ground.
Evidently this was not unexpected as Ollivander didn't seem disappointed by the lack of visible reaction, instead he clapped his hands gleefully, his magic whipping frenziedly around him as a wide smile grew on his face.
"Oho excellent, I knew you could do it Mr Potter. Subtle but potent, a formidable combination." The wandmaker clapped again before he settled back down, the grin still plastered on his face. "Now as I'm sure you remember; your wand contains a phoenix feather as its core. Well for a stave the components are usually similar if not identical to the wielder's wand components. Same core and same wood. In your case I had to make a slight change; the phoenix who gave their feather for your wand only gave one other and that wand has been missing for a decade. I tried a different phoenix's feather, but there was no harmony to be found there. In the end I had to test almost a dozen different cores before I found a match for your magic and the stave's wood. Rowan and Ursa fur, 48 inches and unyielding. You are lucky, I don't collect the rarer ingredients anymore. The fur in your wand is from a trip I made in my youth to Foloi Forest in Greece, I was very lucky to find it."
"Ursa fur? I didn't know you could use that as a wand core?" Professor Flitwick asked in interest as he cast a curious gaze at the cane in Harry's hand.
"As a wand core? No, but the rules are different for a stave, and this is some of my finest work." The wandmaker seemed to be very proud of his work and hadn't taken his eyes from it since Harry had grasped it. "Now remember, a stave is not like a wand. You will need to practice for several years before you can wield any magic through it, the level of control, of focus required is far greater than with a wand. Filius knows someone who uses a stave and I'm sure they will be able to give you some pointers."
"Thank you, Mr Ollivander, it really is a beautiful cane." Harry said as the wandmaker opened the door for them, a fresh smile appearing on the older mans face at his words.
While the lack of letters to and from his friends still bothered Harry, the daily telephone calls with Terry helped a great deal. Terry would pass on any news from their other friends and any messages they had and would pass any messages or news back from Harry as well. It wasn't ideal but it worked and the connection to his friends helped dull the sense of loss and loneliness he felt at Privet Drive.
When Terry told Harry that he had received his Hogwarts letter with the booklist for their second year, he began to worry. If no letters could reach him, how would he return to Hogwarts? The ticket for the Express was included in the letter and without his ticket he couldn't get onto the train, it said so in Hogwarts A History. Terry did his best to calm him down, reassuring him that Professor Flitwick wouldn't let that happen to him, but he hadn't seen or heard from the Professor since he had taken him to pick up his cane. Terry, Susan, Hannah and Neville had all arranged to go to Diagon Alley a few days after their letters had been delivered and invited Harry to join them. He had agreed but without a letter his fears and doubts began to re-emerge.
The morning of the arranged trip he sat despondent at the table as Petunia tried to encourage him to eat. He had just swallowed the last of his toast when there was a heavy crashing noise at the door quickly followed by two more loud thuds. If Harry hadn't heard Vernon's car already leave, he might have thought the heavy man had fallen down the stairs and caused the sound.
Harry and Petunia both stood and made their way into the hallway to see the front door hanging on one hinge as it leant precariously against the wall, the lock broken, and wood splintered across the floor. Stood with one massive hand still raised as if to knock on the now broken door was the familiar figure of Hagrid, a sheepish expression on his face as he saw them step into view.
"Ah…sorry 'bout the door Harry, Mrs Dursley. I'll fix it I promis'." The mammoth of a man pulled a pink frilly umbrella from within his overcoat and prodded the broken door with the wooden tip. Harry had witnessed Hagrid perform magic in this way a handful of times and it always confused him, the way Hagrid's magic moved through the umbrella reminded him a little of the way Neville's old wand had looked. The magic struggling to travel the length of the umbrella smoothly, building and slowing at different points like a river would struggle to flow around large rocks. But, like a river, the magic did eventually flow around the obstacles and the broken door lifted back into place, the splintered wood reforming into a whole and unbroken doorframe.
There was an awkward moment as Harry realised Hagrid was still on the other side of the door and it was now closed between them, but his aunt quickly composed herself and opened the repaired door for the groundskeeper.
"You must be Mr Hagrid?" She asked as the huge man leaned down slightly so his head filled part of the doorway, he was too big to actually step inside the doorway so settled for filling it with his bulk.
"Aye, Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys an' the grounds of Hogwarts. But you can jus' call me Hagrid, everybody does." The giant man smiled from behind his bushy beard and Petunia seemed to relax, Harry had told her of the friendly groundskeeper but seeing him in person for the first time was likely a shock.
"Well, it's nice to meet you Hagrid, Harry has told me lots about you. Thank you for being a friend to him, I know he appreciates it and so do I." Petunia reached out and tentatively patted the man's arm as the groundskeeper blushed and waved her thanks away.
"It ain't nothing, he's a good lad. Speakin' of, I have somethin' for you Harry." Hagrid reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, the small cream rectangle looked comically small in his dustbin lid sized hand as he held it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. "Pr'fessor Flitwick asked me to deliver it to you, somethin' about your letters goin' missin'?"
The relief Harry felt when he saw the letter was evident, his whole body straightening as if some unseen weight had been lifted from him as he rushed forward to accept the envelope from Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid! It's here Aunty, I can go back to Hogwarts!" He cried as he hugged his aunt.
"Go back to Hogwarts? Of cours' you can, there'd be a riot if you weren't there Harry." Hagrid smiled at the pair of them and waited for Harry to step back from his aunt before he spoke again. "Now, Pr'fessor Flitwick asked if I could take you into Diagon Alley, said you were meeting friends there to do yer shoppin'?"
It only took Harry a few minutes to rush upstairs and change, throwing his wand holster on over his shirt as he came back down the stairs to find Hagrid leaning next to the still open door sipping tea from a mug that looked ridiculously small in his grip. Petunia was stood waiting for Harry with his cane in her hand and handed it to him when he hugged her goodbye.
"Now be careful and do everything Hagrid tells you to Harry and have fun." She kissed his head and took Hagrid's now empty cup back as the large man waved goodbye.
Hagrid led Harry out onto the street and, after looking around to check no one was nearby, pulled out his umbrella again and pointed it out into the street for a moment. He held it there for a few seconds before he tucked it back into his voluminous leather coat and then turned to Harry with a slightly drawn expression.
"We'll be takin' the Knight Bus to the Cauldron Harry. I should warn ya, its not a comfortable ride but it's quick and safe…" The sudden whoosh of displaced air muffled the end of Hagrid's speech, but Harry was fairly sure Hagrid had added "supposedly" to the end of that. Any response Harry might have given was lost at the sight of the Knight Bus in front of them. A waft of steam drifted from the painted metal exterior as the doors opened but Harry couldn't focus on the conductor, he was too drawn by the swirling rainbow of colours that filled and surrounded the bus.
While Hogwarts remained the most enchanted and powerful thing he had ever seen, it's enchantments were almost entirely woven of green, blue, yellow and red threads, a testament to the Founders incredible skill and strength. The enchantments on Hogwarts, while they had been supplemented over the centuries by Headmaster's and Headmistresses, remained largely unchanged due to the nigh-unparalleled power the Founders had wielded that left them so far beyond what most ordinary wizards and witches could perform. The Knight Bus was an example of the most common ways to get around the gap between the average wizard and such mages, instead of one or two powerful mages enchanting it, the Knight Bus looked to have been enchanted by at least a dozen different witches and wizards at the same time. A multitude of coloured threads, all woven together to achieve something no single one of them could have accomplished alone. It was a dazzling display of magic and Harry could have stood watching it for hours.
"Er…you coming Harry?" Hagrid asked from the open door of the bus, the suspension creaking at his weight as he stepped inside. Harry quickly followed and after Hagrid had handed the conductor, a tall thin man named Stanley Shunpike, a few coins, they made their way halfway down the bus until they found a few comfy looking armchairs that were available just behind a queen size bed. The moment they sat down, Hagrid's chair expanding magically to fit his larger frame, the bus was on the move with a loud band.
Their chairs slid back at the sudden start and the magic that surrounded the bus grew brighter, pushing other cars on the road out of the way or expanding the space between them so that the large bus could wind its blistering path along the roads. They had stropped twice before the conductor let them know they were on their way to London, Hagrid had just waved the man away as he covered his mouth and breathed deeply. The big man had grown pale as soon as the bus had started moving and with every sharp turn or close call with another vehicle (or building!), more and more sweat had formed on his face.
"Next stop, Leaky Cauldron, thirty seconds!" The conductor shouted from the front of the bus, swaying easily with the erratic movements of the bus as he chatted with the older man driving. As the bus came to a screeching halt, Harry and Hagrid's chairs scraped across the floor for several feet before they too stopped, and Hagrid staggered to the doors, all but collapsing onto the street outside.
Harry followed a little slower, but he was eager to leave the remarkably sickening vehicle as well. Once Harry was clear of the doors, they snapped shut and with a whistle and another loud bang, the bus was gone, the only trace was the faint smell of burning rubber and a few still smoking tyre tracks on the road.
"I'm sorry Harry, I really can't stand tha' ruddy thing. Worse than the carts in Gringotts." Hagrid muttered as he shook his head and took several deep breaths. "Righ', in we go then."
The Leaky Cauldron looked to have been built sometime in the early 1600's and hadn't been updated much since then, it was all wonky wooden beams and uneven bricks. But it was warm and, despite the slightly intimidating looking group of goblins sat at a dark table in the corner, it was a welcoming place. The barman, Tom, was a hunched bald man but was friendly enough and greeted Hagrid loudly, already halfway through pouring a heavy looking tankard before Hagrid could explain that he was there for business.
Hagrid ushered Harry out the back of the pub and into the small, enclosed rear where he showed him the key bricks to tap that triggered the entrance to form, the brick wall rippling and grinding as it opened to reveal Diagon Alley with a small shower of brick dust.
Hagrid led Harry down the middle of the main thoroughfare, and it didn't take long for him to hear Terry's cry of recognition.
"Harry, over here mate!" Terry called from beside a short man, his father Harry guessed as they had the same hair and nose.
"Hey Terry, are we the first ones here?" Harry asked as he gave his friend a one-armed hug.
"Yeah I think so, the girls said they'd meet us near Gringotts, I think Nev is tagging along with them but I'm not sure." Terry was interrupted by a gentle cough from the man beside him, though he wore a smile and didn't seem annoyed by his son's lack of manners. "Oh er sorry, Harry this is my dad, dad this is Harry. And Hagrid, but you know him already."
"It's nice to meet you Mr Potter, Terry's not stopped talking about you since he came home, and I know my wife has become friends with your aunt as well?"
"Hi Mr Boot, its nice to meet you too. Yeah, they talk a lot on the phone I guess." Harry felt nervous at meeting his friend's father, but the man seemed quite affable and his mannerisms reminded Harry a lot of Terry.
"Oh don't call me that, Mr Boot is my father, no Robert will be fine. Now if I'm not mistaken, I believe I have just seen your friend Mr Longbottom and his guardian." Mr Boot pointed towards the steps of Gringotts, it was near the limits of Harry's awareness but he could just make out the familiar magic of Neville and next to him was a tall older woman wearing a large hat with what seemed to be a vulture perched atop it.
It turned out to be very helpful having Hagrid with them as the groundskeeper's immense height meant he was visible from anywhere in the Alley, so it didn't take long for Neville and his grandmother to join them just outside Ollivanders' shop.
"Nice to finally meet you Mr Potter, Neville has told me plenty about you. I am glad he has found a friend in you, his mother and yours were good friends at school and had things been…different you would likely have grown up together." Madam Longbottom gripped Harry's hand tightly in her own as he shook it and peered closely at his face. Although his glasses covered the worst of the scars, he knew the edges were still visible and he couldn't stop himself from frowning slightly to try to obscure them more. He stopped when Madam Longbottom tightened her grip on his hand slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to notice. "You shouldn't hide your scars Mr Potter, they are a mark of honour. They show the trials we face and overcome. They are lessons, each and every one."
Harry felt his hand tingle as he gripped his cane, the scarring across it had healed a little more in his time at home but it was still visible, the skin tight and waxen across his palm and fingers.
"I agree Augusta, but perhaps you could release young Mr Potter so his friends can greet him properly?" A stern voice sounded from behind the older woman who straightened and stepped back from him with a small smile.
"Hello Amelia, its lovely to see you again, I had thought you would be busy with the searches we approved yesterday?" Madam Longbottom turned to face the three other figures who had approached, Susan and Hannah were accompanied by a woman with dark red hair pulled back into a bun, a monocle hung from the lapel of her robes as she stepped forward to kiss Neville's grandmother's cheek. Both women had strong magic, their colour's deep and bright, Madam Longbottom's was a dark green with swathes of brown like Neville's and Madam Bones' magic was red and yellow, twined together, it looked like fire flowed through her body.
Harry was quickly engulfed in a tight hug from Susan and then a quicker one from Hannah as the group of friends all reunited, being able to talk through letters (and Terry) was no substitute for the real thing.
Once they had all greeted each other and exchanged any recent news, they began their shopping trip. Harry still had most of the gold he had withdrawn the previous summer and the others had a guardian or parent to pay for them, so they began with a trip to Madam Malkins. All five of them needed new robes having grown since their first year so they all had to be measured again, but as they were the only ones in the shop, they were able to get the new robes quickly and Madam Malkin kindly offered to hold onto the packages until they were finished with the rest of their shopping.
Then it was onto the Owl Emporium; Neville's toad, Trevor, needed some wart-remover and Susan and Hannah both had owls, so they wanted to pick up some treats for them. Harry had never been inside the emporium, he had no pet and so had no need to visit, but he had heard the animals whenever he walked past. The hooting and screeching of various birds, the yips and barks of Crup's and all manner of other sounds and cries.
The interior of the shop was much as Harry had expected; various birds were kept in cages at the front of the shop, with larger or more exotic animals being kept further back. As Neville spoke with the shopkeeper about Trevor (his grandmother had elected to remain outside the busy and loud shop) Harry made his way deeper into the building, past the small kennel with a handful of Crup puppies and up to the back wall where various magical creatures were kept in glass containers.
There were a few six-legged lizards in one container, all sat around a little stack of sticks that burned slowly, their magic was red and orange and rippled from the flames along their bodies. It was quite entrancing, and Harry spent several seconds watching them, intrigued by the way they drew from the fire, their own colours growing brighter as the fire dimmed slightly and vice versa.
Beside the strange fire-lizards were a collection of reptiles, snakes and other lizards of all sorts in different containers. One of these containers held a few green lizards that began to shrink as Harry stepped closer, growing smaller and smaller until they were barely the size of a beetle. Another held a collection of horned toads that all inflated in unison before letting out a surprisingly harmonious croak, like an old church organ.
The last glass cases held snakes. Some long and camouflaged with greens and browns, others were smaller and brightly coloured, vibrant yellow and red and blue to deter predators. One case held a single grey snake with three dark eggs, veins of burning crimson pulsing through the shells.
Of all the animals in the shop, Harry hadn't expected the reptile section to be the loudest. But it was. The snakes and some of the lizards were hissing sibilant whispering cries, asking for food, for warmth, for water.
Harry hadn't heard an animal speak for several years, but back when his sight had been first developing, he had found a little grass snake in the garden. It had been a shock to him when he had found it and understood its pleas not to crush its eggs. He had no intention of breaking any eggs and had told the snake so, not quite believing it when the snake had thanked him and slithered back into the hedge it had come from. Over the following months he had had several short conversations with the snake before it had moved on to find greener pastures.
He was jolted from his introspection when a hand clapped him on the back, and he realised Neville was finished and had joined him.
"All okay Harry?" Neville asked as he looked at the array of reptiles in front of them, his experience as a gardener and Herbologist meant he had little fear for creatures such as these.
"Yeah, just thinking…you got what you needed for Trevor?" Harry asked as they turned away and made their way back out into the warm street where the others were waiting for them.
Neville nodded as they were led towards the bookshop further up the alley, only to find that a bustling crowd had gathered, overflowing from the shop and into the street. There were dozens of witches and even a few wizards filling the store, all clamouring and pushing to try and get inside.
"Lockhart is doing a signing apparently, I doubt we'll get in there anytime today with that crowd." Robert Boot explained as they gave the bulging mass of people a wide berth. Susan and Hannah began whispering and giggling at the mention of Lockhart, but Madam Longbottom scoffed and muttered under her breath at the name.
"Well, we could go to the shop Professor Flitwick took me for first year?" Harry suggested, he had little interest in attempting to navigate the crowds in Flourish & Blotts.
"Where did Professor Flitwick take you, Mr Potter?" Madam Bones asked, as she did her best to steer Susan and Hannah away from the busy shop.
"Um you can just call me Harry Madam Bones, it was Obscurus Books? They had Braille copies of all the schoolbooks for me." Harry gestured to his face as he explained his need for the alternative books.
"I know Obscurus Books, its near the entrance to Knockturn Alley." Madam Longbottom added as they began to walk away from the busy shop, the street falling quiet as they left the crowd behind.
"Oh well er' I actually was hopin' to pop into Knockturn, I need some Flesh-Eatin' Slug Pellets for the pumpkin patches." Hagrid shrugged at Madam Bones' unimpressed look and coughed awkwardly before adding. "But I can always get 'em later I s'pose."
Perhaps predictable, Obscurus Books was empty, so they had no trouble finding most of the books they needed. However, when it came to the lengthy collection of books by Gilderoy Lockhart that was on all of their lists, they encountered some difficulty.
"I don't sell Lockhart's rubbish." The pale owner sneered at the request from Robert, his voice cold and unfriendly. "I sell books you can learn from, books that contain real knowledge. Not that blonde ponce's tripe."
"Hey!" "He's a hero!" Susan and Hannah both shouted in Lockhart's defence at the owner's words.
"Enough!" Madam Longbottom shouted, silencing the girls who looked ready to attack the pale owner. "The children's book lists include the…blonde ponce's works and Harry here recommended you to us. Is there anything else you could do?"
Harry was surprised she had mentioned him but stepped away from the bookcase filled with Braille texts and nodded to the owner.
"I don't know if you remember but I came here last year? With Professor Flitwick?"
"I remember, Master Flitwick is wise enough to know that you would struggle to find somewhere else in the alley that sells as many Braille texts as I do." The man stood from his stool and leaned forward slightly, peering at Harry before he nodded to himself. "I am Jonathan Edgewick, Mr Potter, it is a pleasure to officially meet you. I might be able to source a few copies of Lockhart's drivel, but I should warn you, it really is a load of dragon dung."
Madam Longbottom arranged the details with Mr Edgewick and they were assured that Lockhart's books would be delivered to their homes by owl before the first of September, the rest of the textbooks were easily found and Harry was even able to find a few extra-curricular books to read in his free time.
As they stepped out of the shop, Terry tugged on Harry's sleeve and pointed down the alley to their left, past the sign that lead into the Knockturn Alley Hagrid had wanted to visit. Walking out of the alley was the recognisable figure of Draco Malfoy, and beside him what could only be his father. Tall with long blonde hair and pointed features, Lucius Malfoy cut an intimidating figure in his expensive robes. He walked with a very slight limp and used a black cane, sparks flying with every step as the metal endcap scraped the cobbles. His magic was a dark purple with larges splotches of black that swam beneath the purple, jagged edges forming and then fading before they could breach the surface. Something about him, about his magic, made Harry tremble for a moment. He didn't seem outwardly aggressive, his demeanour calm, even pleasant as he nodded in greeting to another man he passed, but his magic roiled constantly, anger and the promise of pain waiting beneath the calm exterior.
But then he was past them, striding quickly towards the crowds and Flourish & Blotts despite the slight hitch to his step. Harry couldn't help the quiet sigh of relief as the pair disappeared into the jumble of colours and bodies outside the bookshop and allowed himself to be distracted by the mention of ice cream by Hagrid.
"It'll be a birthday treat for Harry, it's on me." Hagrid said as he herded the group towards the parlour at the top of the alley near the Leaky Cauldron. Madam Longbottom put up a token protest but caved to Neville's pleas quickly and Susan's aunt didn't even attempt that, just nodding at the pleading looks from Susan and Hannah.
As they crossed the street to enter Fortescue's Parlour, there was a sudden wave of shouts from behind them as the crowd in front of Flourish & Blotts split to reveal Draco's father and another man spill onto the cobbles, both stood quickly and seemed unhurt and eager to continue until Madam Bones stalked over to them. Harry was too far away to hear her words, but the sudden change in both men's postures was enough to tell him that the fight was probably over and she joined them at their table a few minutes later. Her scowl disappeared as she saw them all struggling not to laugh at Hagrid who had managed to get a remarkable amount of strawberry ice cream in his beard.
AN Hey everyone, apologies for the brief delay on this one, I was in an accident recently that meant I had to put this aside to deal with real world stuff. But I'm back now!
WOW! Nearly 500 followers and over 300 favourites! Thank you all for supporting and reading my work, I'm glad (and amazed) so many of you are enjoying it!
A few little morsels of lore and backstory dropped in this one, just enough to whet your appetites. As I have said before, the story will be diverging more from Canon as time passes, and there are other changes that will affect how things go.
I really like Lucius Malfoy's character and I think it could have been made so much more menacing than the frankly pathetic character we see in the books/movies (although I love Jason Isaacs and his acting is phenomenal) so he will be ONE of the big villains of this work.
Please continue to review, follow and favourite the story if you enjoy it, and if you don't then let me know why.
Many thanks,
Daedalus Smythe