Chapter 55. Alley of Hope
The bleak and cold circumstances of the weeks Harry spent at the Burrow mirrored his inner prison. The once lively and joyful garden now appeared lifeless and empty, like an abandoned graveyard of hopes. Playing Quidditch with Hermione and Dudley only served as a reminder of their hopelessness, as they battled against Ron, Ginny, and occasionally Cedric Diggory, dark figures who mercilessly crushed their hopes.
The news that filled the world continued to be a series of tragedies and catastrophes. The fallen wizards emerged from a darkened past like ghosts, making each step Harry took feel filled with death and decay. Dementor attacks became the background music of his existence, shrouding the world in gray clouds of hopelessness and despair.
Dark shadows loomed over Harry James Potter on these somber days, crawling invisibly into his heart and mind. Lupin had shared the news of Karkaroff's death, another loss in the bloody saga of wizards. But even more horrifying were the words about Sirius's brother, etching themselves into Harry's memories, piercing his soul with emptiness and longing. He had never known Regulus, but now, more than ever, he felt the danger looming over his godfather.
The comfort cake offered was just as doomed as the happiness of its recipient. Mrs. Weasley, with a pale face, suggested distracting themselves from suffering and misery by searching for a mournful illusion that lost its reality in the icy swirls of inevitability. Mr. Weasley, cold and ruthless, shattered Harry's remaining fragile hopes by mentioning the closing of Ollivander's shop, an additional reminder of the growing darkness consuming all that is living.
After a gloomy and dark birthday that was permeated by a somber atmosphere, Harry found letters from Hogwarts in his mailbox the next day. But instead of darkness and cold, they brought joy and excitement. It turned out that Harry had become the Quidditch team captain, and although he couldn't fully enjoy this fact, it was still an honor. Hermione, usually always positive and cheerful, added to his joy by informing him that he now had equal rights with the older students. Ron, too, was shocked, seeing a similar badge on his brother Charlie, and he supported Harry.
Mrs. Weasley, though tired, decided to go over the book list and focus on positive things, distancing herself from the gloom of recent news. She immediately planned a future trip to Diagon Alley. Ron, although worried, couldn't resist making a failed joke about Voldemort in the Flourish and Blotts bookstore, and Mrs. Weasley scolded him angrily.
Saturday morning arrived, bringing with it dawn and hope. Mrs. Weasley resolved to refrain from yelling at her children. However, as they went shopping, every step became more exciting, as if frightening shadows surrounded them. Bill, like the king of the celebration, presented Harry with a bag of gold from his own vault, which became a symbol of good luck for him. Fleur, filled with secret strength, quietly teased Ginny, who laughed merrily, feeling the fullness of life. They traveled in a special Ministry car, which briefly created an atmosphere of comfort and safety.
Mr. Weasley warned that Harry would be under guard, adding a sense of protection, like an invisibility cloak shielding him from the dangers of the world. At the same time, he felt uneasy about the upcoming trip to Diagon Alley with security.
They slowly crossed the threshold of the "Leaky Cauldron" following the last rays of dying light. The dusty floor creaked beneath their feet, sounding like a hoarse moan in the silence. Looking around, they found the room empty, only the owner of the lifeless tavern, the wrinkled and toothless Tom, tragically empty, remained on his worn-out chair. Through the smoky haze, his thick fingers peered out from under the dark noodles, framed by baby skin that contorted his face in folds of pain and loss. Hagrid walked past him with a noise and, soaring through the shattered hopes that lingered in the air, firmly announced that something much more important was happening now. Tom only nodded slightly, immersing himself in his quiet role of self-denial.
Harry, Hermione, Dudley, and Ron, enveloped in anxiety and the absurdity of their surroundings, felt awkward and uncomfortable. They walked through the secret passage, opened like an obsession, and found themselves in a cold, lifeless courtyard where the garbage bins, like homeless souls, hopelessly moaned and tried to comfort each other. The bone-chilling wind whispered ominous stories hidden in every crack, making them shudder with a nauseating premonition of the unknown.
Hagrid approached the wall, which concealed all this tangled surrealism within it, and pierced it with strong blows from his umbrella. An uneven brick fell down, leaving an opening resembling the jaws of a starving monster. Before them, a view opened up, so gloomy and clouded that even the bravest heart froze in their chest.
They inconspicuously infiltrated a narrow alley lost in the mundane realm of death. Everywhere hung the posters of the Ministry of Magic, seeming like prophets of terrible times through the mist, on which images of notorious Death Eaters clearly manifested themselves, menacingly grinning in the darkness. The pharmacy window, as if cursed, was covered with the contemptuous smirk of Bellatrix Lestrange, as if she herself watched every step they took.
By the merciless fate, Ollivander's shop was boarded up and abandoned. Throughout the alley, ransacked stalls and crushed tents were scattered, their vibrant colors and acidic smells carried by the wind, like ghosts of past destinies. In the distance, the mournful howling of discarded dolls and shattered hopes could be heard. But they could not stop their path, they moved forward, stepping on the trembling damp ground in anticipation of an unpredictable encounter with darkness.
The darkening twilight enveloped Diagon Alley with its veil of mystery and enigma. Under its fading light, the golden lights of the shop windows turned into indistinguishable spots, as if an effaced watercolor accent on a dark canvas. Barely rustling with darkness, the alley began to captivate all senses, enveloping them with intrigue and magic.
The robes were bought at Madam Malkin's shop. As soon as Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the famous magical tailor's, they immediately noticed a strange boy standing near the mirror. He had a pale, almost transparent blue face and light hair that resembled moonlight. However, their attention was drawn to his magnificent robe, which seemed to emit light from the store's sources.
Draco Malfoy whispered for only them to hear:
- If you're wondering, Mum, what that smell is, it's just a mudblood who just walked in.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at him with disdain, as if they were looking at a terrible insect crawling on the ground.
The loud commotion in the store caught Madam Malkin's attention, and she grumbled indignantly, demanding politeness and decency from the visitors.
"What kind of expressions are there in my store?" exclaimed Madam Malkin, running out from behind the hanger with a tape measure and a magic wand in her hands. "And I ask you not to wave your magic wands here!" she added, looking towards the door, as Harry and Ron had already pulled out their wands and aimed them at Malfoy.
From behind the hanger, Narcissa Malfoy emerged with a slow, dignified stride, like a proud queen.
"Remove it immediately!" she coldly ordered Harry and Ron. "If you attack my son again, I will ensure that this action becomes your last."
"Oh yeah?" said Harry, stepping back and looking straight into her well-groomed, arrogant face, despite its pallor, so similar to her sister's face. Harry was now as tall as her.
"And what will you do - unleash your Death Eater friends on us?"
Madam Malkin gasped and clasped her heart:
"How can you say such things... such risky accusations... Please, put away your wands!" she pleaded.
Narcissa's face remained unchanged. Many thoughts could be read in her eyes. She didn't utter a word, but her stern gaze spoke for itself. What happened after the transformation of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange into Masters and the summoning of Death Eaters by Voldemort's will? What went wrong? Narcissa didn't know the answer, but a sinister feeling grew in her heart, strengthening her resolve at the same time.
- You're hiding something, Narcissa.
Narcissa tensed up and slightly nodded her head, as if ready for a fight. Her hands clenched into fists, and her body leaned forward slightly, as if prepared to jump. He couldn't read her thoughts, but he could sense that something was happening and decided to trust his intuition.
Malfoy stumbled awkwardly, tripping on his long cloak, making himself look pitiful.
"You're just another young man who thinks he can save the world," Narcissa addressed Harry, helping her son to his feet. "But you're mistaken, Potter. The decisions have already been made, and my place is with my family."
But Harry didn't lower his wand.
"Harry, don't!" Hermione pleaded, clinging to his arm. "Snap out of it... you can't... you'll get into trouble..."
Narcissa felt a timid determination awaken inside her. Her face, once filled with doubt, now reflected excitement and hope. A spark ignited deep within her eyes, symbolizing the possibility of changing Draco's fate. Her hands, previously clenched tight with trepidation, now relaxed, as if ready to face a challenge. Narcissa sighed pensively, as if making a decision that would require her deepest emotional investment. Because only the kindest and most caring mother could take that final step she was about to take.
"Draco, my boy," she said, adding a touch of motherly tenderness to her voice, "It's time to choose your friends wisely. Slytherin doesn't always offer the best options."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione listened with interest, not expecting such a turn of events. Narcissa, surprised herself by her own words, spoke clearly and with meaning. Suddenly, she radiated a bright sunny light in the eyes of the golden trio, leaving them speechless.
Harry and Ron didn't bother buying any ingredients at the pharmacy since they were no longer studying potions, but they both bought a large box of owl treats for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. They continued on their way in search of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the shop owned by Fred and George, with Mrs. Weasley checking her watch every two minutes.
"We don't have much time," Mrs. Weasley said. "We'll just take a quick look and then head back to the car. We must be almost there. House ninety-two... ninety-four..."
"Wow!" exclaimed Ron, coming to a sudden stop.
Amidst the dull storefronts plastered with Ministry posters, Fred and George's shop stood out like a fireworks display. Passersby couldn't help but glance at their window for an extended period, and some even stopped as if enchanted, unable to tear their eyes away. The window display on the left of the entrance dazzled with an incredible variety of items that bounced, spun, lit up, jumped, and squealed. It was almost painful to look at the array of colors. The window on the right was entirely covered by a giant poster, dark purple like the Ministry posters, but with giant bright yellow letters blazing:
"Why is everyone so concerned about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?
It's better to worry about He-Who-Can't-Hold-His-Guts-In!
He's cunning, he's quick!
From him, from long ago,
The whole country gets constipated!"
Harry burst out laughing, and he heard a muffled groan beside him. He looked around and saw Mrs. Weasley, speechless, unable to tear her eyes away from the poster. Her lips moved, silently repeating, "He's cunning, he's quick."
"They'll be killed in their own beds!" she whispered.
"They won't be!" reassured Ron, laughing along with Harry. "This is brilliant!"
Inside the shop, magical foam was foaming, colorful confetti was scattering, and tiny lights were flying. Harry and his friends entered a completely different world, where there was no room for familiar worries and fears. Regardless of age, everyone found something magical and wonderful for themselves here.
Fred and George's shop was packed to the brim with all sorts of goods. The shelves were overflowing with the twins' wild and unique creations that couldn't be found anywhere else. Playful magic wands glowed in a luxurious rainbow shimmer, creating a vibrant symphony of colors and smiles.
Harry and his friends couldn't believe their eyes when they saw a massive magical fountain, shooting a fireworks display of rainbow splashes. Every customer could gather magical soap bubbles and create their own enchanted tale, jumping and laughing within the colorful bursts of joy. Somewhere near the ceiling, a tiny figure in the shape of an inflated Ambrosius floated among many other quirky objects, and a huge array of multicolored balloons filled the air.
Harry and his friends walked through the shop as if it were a museum of happiness, where each exhibit genuinely delighted visitors. They tried on extraordinary outfits that changed colors with each movement, creating magical pictures. The kids played with cheerful toys that jumped from hand to hand, bringing out incomparable magical smiles.
The hearts of the heroes froze in sincere bliss, and the sparks in their eyes shone even brighter than the most dazzling lantern. Harry and his friends became part of this bountiful and joyful atmosphere, where neither worries nor problems had a place. They wanted to spend the rest of their lives here, as inside Fred and George's shop were treasures of fun and unbridled happiness.
But time flew like magical sand in an hourglass, and the gracious shop of Fred and George had to let our company pass through its magical doors. They left the shop with hearts full of happiness, joy, and the most positive emotions. They looked back and realized they would never forget this magical place, where every moment was filled with everything they lacked in their ordinary lives, and they promised themselves to come back to the marvelous store of Fred and George someday.
Returning to Diagon Alley from the twins' shop, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dudley were stunned by the sight of a life that, despite the darkness, thrived here even on the darkest days. Except for the closed and looted shops, the crowd of people gathered on this day and hour was astonishing. Harry glanced at the people, so numerous that it seemed impossible to fit so many wizards in Diagon Alley, even on its busiest days. For Harry, who was used to the usual hustle and bustle of the alley before starting his third year at Hogwarts, when he ran there after a visit to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, such a crowded view seemed simply unattainable. He now even felt that the previous busiest days were completely empty and lonely.
However, the chance to experience the vibrancy of Diagon Alley and taste Fortescue's delicacy still remained. After the twins' shop, Florean's café was the only place that continued to welcome visitors. It was incredibly fortunate for them that the famous ice cream vendor still delighted people with his sweet delights. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dudley savored each spoonful of ice cream, with each bite filling their mouths with a unique flavor, while they enjoyed the warm atmosphere created by Florean in his beautiful and cozy café.
Extremely satisfied after indulging in incredible ice cream and filled with warm feelings in their hearts, the trio of friends realized that it was time to leave Diagon Alley behind. They had to make their way through the massive crowd, which was tightly packed, leaving only a narrow passage. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dudley were determined to cross this human ocean.
Stepping out onto the street, they were greeted by a cool spring breeze that enveloped them with freshness and whispered lively gossip of the past winter. The light of the late evening seeped through the shining windows of the buildings, creating playful beams of light on the streets. It was clear that the district was still alive with its active life, filling the air with laughter and voices.
The trio pushed through the bustling crowd, feeling like small boats navigating through the sea of people amidst tumultuous waves. Each step was accompanied by noise and clamor, with the voices of passersby blending into an indistinguishable hum.
But the friends did not despair, for they were together and resigned themselves to the challenge they had to face in order to reach their goal. Sparks of determination flickered in their eyes, reflecting their thirst for adventure and new discoveries.
They clasped hands and began to push through the crowd. Step by step, they fought their way through the aesthetic chaos and invisible barriers, determinedly making their way through the sea of people. But beneath this mass of bodies, twilight, and rustling, there was something greater - the life of Diagon Alley, infused with aspirations, hopes, and unwavering spirit. In every glance, in every whisper, there was a force that filled this dark street with life and energy.
With each step they took, they delved deeper into the crowd, like defiant explorers unafraid of obstacles. Occasionally, one of them, whether it be Harry, Ron, or Hermione, would redirect their gaze to capture one of the small moments in this noisy ocean - a smiling child on their father's shoulders, a lively conversation among a group of teenagers, or a woman with a basket of brightly colored flowers standing out against the gray crowd. All of this added drops of color to their inner landscape, giving them confidence and strength.
This was Diagon Alley, a place where magic and reality merged in a whirlwind, where every brick held its secrets, and every passerby carried their own story. It was a place where mystique lingered in the air, where the impossible became possible, where every step opened up a new facet of destiny. And even in these dark days, Diagon Alley retained its vibrant essence, awakening in people a sense of adventure and risk beyond ordinary reality.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dudley struggled to squeeze through the noisy crowd of onlookers. The human sea swirled and rocked around them like a tumultuous ocean in a storm.
Shoulders and backs of strangers pressed them into the wall of the nearest shop. Someone stepped on Harry's foot, someone pushed him in the side. Hermione nearly lost her shoe when she was tossed into the whirlpool of bodies.
Ron squeezed through behind her, clutching the hem of her cloak. For a moment, the crowd separated them, and Hermione disappeared from view. In a panic, Ron fought his way forward until he once again caught hold of the familiar fabric.
Dudley had it easier - he literally bulldozed through the crowd, encountering little resistance. Harry immediately thought - wizards probably fear such an imposing guy.
Harry walked last, shielding his friends from the pressing wave of curiosity from behind. Someone pulled at his sleeve, almost knocking him over. It was an elderly witch who tightly gripped his shoulder, preventing herself from falling, her sharp nails digging in.
It seemed like this crowd was living its own life, consuming and crushing everyone in its path. They miraculously managed to move forward for a few steps...
Ahead stood a mysterious figure in a long sapphire cloak and a golden lion mask. An aura of mystery and absolute power surrounded the stranger, distorting the contours of their mighty silhouette.
It felt as though this figure radiated the strength of ancient kings, whose gaze made even stones tremble. It was sensed that with each step, with each wave of the hand, this mysterious stranger controlled destiny itself. They were enveloped by an atmosphere of greatness and significance.
Even without seeing their face beneath the mask, the crowd respectfully parted, feeling an instinctive tremor in the presence of this powerful lord. It seemed like one glance from them could penetrate through, read the most hidden thoughts...
"Harry Potter?! It's Harry Potter!" exclaimed someone nearby.
"Harry? The Boy Who Lived? He's here?"
"Harry Potter? Harry's here?" the crowd buzzed like an angry swarm of bees.
The crowd instantly erupted, swaying in a massive wave, pushing the stunned Harry towards the feet of the lion mask.
It seemed like this enormous mass of people came to life, transforming into a mythical creature with a thousand limbs and voices. Harry felt like a helpless speck in the face of its unstoppable force.
He was flung into the center of the circle, right at the feet of the towering figure. Harry barely managed to stay on his feet, miraculously avoiding falling flat before this mighty stranger.
The crowd respectfully cleared a path, allowing Harry to fully experience the power of the aura of mystery and authority emanating from the royal figure... and the horror of his situation.
The mask slowly turned, and the sea of people respectfully parted before the trio.
Harry felt as though time had stopped. He was a tiny moth caught in the web of a menacing predator. What would this powerful unknown force, embodied in the lion mask, do?
His heart pounded loudly, resonating in his temples. Each second stretched infinitely. Harry dared not move, feeling the gaze from the black abysses of the mask - predatory, deadly. Sticky sweat streamed down his back.
Finally, the mask slightly inclined and made a welcoming gesture with its hand - simple, but full of confident power.
Harry let out a relieved breath - today, the noble predator spared his life. He could only be immensely grateful to Fate for this precious moment...
- Ah, young Harry! - boomed a low voice from beneath the lion mask.
A shiver ran down Harry's spine upon hearing that voice. It carried the weight of ancient times and the mysterious wisdom of centuries.
- It is a long-awaited meeting with you. There is an important conversation to be had.
Harry's heart quickened. What does this legendary ruler want to tell him?
The teachings of Fujimaru about not neglecting communication with Servants flashed in his memory.
Harry made up his mind. Whatever secrets the great ancient king held, he would listen. Who knows what this conversation could decide in the future... or even now.
The crowd impatiently murmured, greedily catching every word. Harry felt trapped in the midst of these greedy gazes and whispers. But for some reason, this mysterious sage in the mask now inspired him with hope...
The camera shutters clicked frantically, desperate to capture a precious moment. The bright flashes blinded Harry, reflecting off the golden mask.
- Great honor, Your Majesty, - he muttered, feeling that this enigmatic sage had come to warn him.
- The path of truth is thorny, young wanderer, - the mask boomed mysteriously. - Sometimes, one must take detours to reach a noble goal. Do you understand, chosen one?
Harry felt a tingling of anticipation. These words held profound meaning...
- Yes, sometimes unconventional decisions lead to righteous victory, - he replied, not knowing what he was saying. It was something deep inside him that guided him - these were words of destiny.
Something glimmered beneath the mask in the otherworldly light of unknown worlds.
- I see in your eyes the thirst for truth, young wanderer, - the king continued in a barely audible whisper. - May it guide you through the mists of doubts, like a guiding star.
- But how do I discover this truth? - Harry asked. - Sometimes, everything gets so tangled!
The king fell silent, the mysterious light shining even brighter within the depths of the mask.
- Seek it in the most unexpected places, where the mind fears to tread. Sometimes, madness is wiser than reason. Search where the deceitful spider has spread its webs, whose name cannot be spoken.
The twilight deepened as Harry and King Arthur found themselves in the center of the frozen crowd. Only the trembling flashes of cameras disturbed the silence that enveloped everyone.
The king slowly raised his hand and ran it over his mask - a gesture tired and filled with sorrow.
"There are allies with pure souls," he whispered almost inaudibly. "I seek them, for I sense the storm."
He fell silent. It seemed as though a solitary tear slid beneath the golden mask, the glimmer of streetlights entangled within it.
"My path is shrouded in darkness, fate leads me towards the abyss," Arthur continued, his voice trembling. "But I will fight, my friend, I will fight for the morning light in the hour when night is at its peak."
A chill ran down Harry's spine - what horrors awaited them ahead? He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"I will find faith, Your Majesty. Dawn always comes after darkness."
The king placed his hand on Harry's shoulder - a simple touch, filled with hidden pain, the sensation of which so recklessly and easily transferred to Harry. Harry looked at the king in great astonishment, feeling the warmth of his hand on his shoulder - warmth, full of hidden pain unseen by others.
"May fate bless you, young hero!" the king whispered barely audibly. "Perhaps, farewell..."
Great Arthur slowly stepped back, his cloak billowing, revealing the shining armor beneath it. The crowd respectfully parted, making way for the king.
The king looked at everyone with a majestic gaze from beneath his mask and took the first step. Arthur moved solemnly and gracefully, each movement filled with mournful grace.
The cloak flowed behind him, resembling wings, and an aura of mystery enveloped his figure. The crowd froze in reverential silence.
And now, the silhouette of the king dissolved into the twilight of the alley. Only Harry's heartbeat and the rustling of cameras broke the ensuing silence.
Harry stood still, trying to comprehend what he had heard. The crowd around him murmured, chattered, and flashed with cameras. The cacophony of voices, rustling, and whispers washed over him. Faces and figures blended in a phantasmagorical dance. Someone tapped his shoulder, someone touched his hand. Questions, shouts, laughter merged into an indistinct murmur.
Harry didn't react; the world around him dimmed, only the king's words echoed in his consciousness. What were those ominous hints? What storm loomed?
He flinched, feeling someone's hand, and turned around. Hermione stood by his side, clearly concerned.
"Harry, are you alright? What did the king say to you?"
He slowly shook his head. Nightmares from the past resurfaced, foreshadowing new troubles...