To Ride the Carousel Again
Chapter 13
As usual, all known characters in the HP firmament belong to JK Rowling
I'm doing this for no knuts, sickles, galleons or fame. Where did I go wrong?
As a carousel goes faster, is it more fun? Or more scary?
*/
Approx 5,950 words
*/
Today was going to be a good day was the first thought that flicked across Harry's mind when he was fully awake. Today was his trip to Diagon Alley with Hermione, and he was looking forward to the surprise he had for her.
Uncharacteristically, he lay in bed and replayed Sunday evening and yesterday through his mind.
Sunday evening after dinner, he had gotten the agreement of Hermione's parents to allow her to spend the next week with Harry being tutored in magic by Remus Lupin. They had also agreed to let her accompany them to Diagon Alley for her school shopping.
Harry had made big (boy)friend points by pointing out that this would allow them to spend the coming weekend and Monday relaxing together instead of fighting through the mob of shoppers in the Alley before she was whisked away by the Hogwarts Express on Tuesday not to return until nearly four months had passed.
When the Granger parents expressed worry over allowing two pre-teens to wander through London and Diagon Alley, Harry assuaged them by stating that Mr. Lupin would go along as an adult watchdog for them.
After that, Harry introduced the Grangers to his 'brokerage accounts' and 'safety deposit box' in what he thought of as the normal world. They didn't make much headway because Hector agreed that without organization, they were likely to miss something important. He also thought that the large three-ring binder idea was good, especially if Harry added separation tab sheets every year or two in each company's binder.
Mr. Granger also said that he was working on becoming proficient in computer spreadsheets. Harry and Lupin were clueless, but the three Grangers all nodded heads in agreement. They started babbling in an almost foreign language about Excel 2.0 and a new program called 3.0 that was due out soon and how it would make accounting easier in the near future. And that's what Harry's 'stuff' was, accounting on a large scale.
Mostly due to curiosity, Hector had Harry open three of the last statements that were from brokerages that he had heard of. He avoided the one firm he dealt with about his and Helen's retirement account.
Some quick math in his head told him Harry had made a decent guess as to what his accounts were worth if the three were an example. Assuming a hundred-thousand pound starting amount, the opened examples had two accounts well over two hundred thousand pounds, and the third was past a quarter million pounds.
Harry could see Mr. Granger was looking thoughtful as he carefully made sure the letters were placed in the proper queue, in the proper place.
Hector deferred from making a suggestion as to how to get identified as the inheritor of the accounts until they had a handle on what they were looking at. He added he would talk tomorrow with his dental practice's solicitor for some possible help.
*/
Monday, he had been elf popped by Ypres to Hermione's house just as the two dentists were leaving for their practice. He promised to have her back by dinner, and he would provide a nice dinner for all when they returned. After all, their first work day back from vacation would probably be hectic.
After quick hugs, her parents were gone and the two pre-teens stared at each other.
"Oh yes, Harry," his bushy-haired friend said to him, peering intently into his eyes. "We will be having our discussion about what has happened to you."
Harry visibly gulped.
"Just not now," she continued. "I have recently developed a burning interest in becoming a hot-shot spellslinger."
With a small gesture, she drew his attention to what looked like a toy American Wild West gun holster strapped to her belt and down her jeans-covered thigh. However, this holster held a wand. And with a move worthy of some American Western movie, she drew and had the wand pointed at him far faster than he could have dug his out of a pocket.
She smirked at him. " And some intense practice is just what I need to take you down."
"Is that a threat, Granger?" he said raising his eyebrows in query. His friend was a powerful, knowledgeable witch, but Harry had had two bindings released off his magical core in the last week. Lupin had been amazed as he had started almost destroying targets and damaging target dummies before he managed to get control over his newfound power.
Her reply was a calculated smirk. "What are you? Only about two weeks of practice ahead of me? I'll catch up a-a-nd . . . let's say Friday, I thrash you in a dueling contest, and then I get all my answers."
"Ulp," Harry thought. "This is going to take strategy and guile. Neither of which I have. I could trickle-feed her some information throughout the week. She is going to be horribly disappointed on Friday. She has no idea removing the bindings on my magic core has more than doubled my magic strength. I'm probably more powerful than I was back in Fourth-year."
A still-smiling Hermione turned to Ypres and said, "Can we leave for the manor now, please?"
"As you command, young Mistress," he replied with a small bow and reached out and grabbed both youngster's hands, and with a 'pop', the Granger house was empty.
*/
The day was one of revelations.
Harry thought he had seen an intense Hermione in class before. Particularly in Transfiguration or painstakingly working on a finicky potion for Snape when he was being an even worse bastard than usual.
She paid attention to Lupin's teaching of the second-year wand movements and spell results for Charms as though she was trying to suck the knowledge directly out of his brain.
They then moved on to the practical.
Her intensity did not lessen by a jot.
She ripped through the early second-year charms, hexes and jinxes like a witch on a mission. "Which she was," Harry thought grimly.
Sometimes when she was watching him perform the same spells, her intense concentration on every little wand movement was almost frightening.
Morning tea was a needed respite. The two students had been burning through a lot of magical power while casting and were getting fatigued. Remus was surprised at the amount of power the pair was displaying. Their stamina needed work, but he could show them how to improve.
Lupin's History of Magic lecture was about the formation of the Wizengamot. And the How and Why it had been formed to supersede the original Wizards Council. She made copious notes and then had him repeat his list of recommended reading material so as to ensure she had them written properly.
Harry had been surprised that she took all her notes with a Biro and a legal size pad of paper.
Harry found himself swept up in her wake as he realized he was going to have to work hard to keep up with his friend. Four years of the ghost Binn's dreary, droning goblin rebellion lectures had ill-prepared him for a real intellectual class.
Lupin had worked him on DADA and Charms last week, and he had coasted along using his four years of extra experience, and his unleashed core to provide masking, while he had fun tossing spells around.
Harry was uncharacteristically quiet at lunch. He was pondering what Hermione had shown him about giving his all in a class. He thought about the vow he had made to his parents that he would improve. He would be more studious. He would be better.
Harry had to pull his thoughts away from self-examination as Lupin started to run them through a long class in Transfiguration. Beetles to buttons was the first transfiguration McGonagall would set for them, Lupin had informed them. After that would be turning a bird into a water goblet.
Harry wanted badly to be quicker at the transformation than Hermione. He had done this successfully three years ago, and he was sure he could ramp up his intent to perform the spell perfectly, yet, if he did that, what message would that send to her?
Or worse, it might be a huge clue as to Harry being a sort of time traveler if he was to suddenly breeze through the Hogwarts beginner's spells.
And finally, why did he have this sudden urge to be better than her? He had always wanted to impress Hermione, but to suddenly prove he was better then her? Where had that come from?
Harry once again became distracted from his own transfiguration effort watching Hermione ramp up the intensity of her concentration as with every attempt, her beetle was becoming more button-like, until . . .
Suddenly there was a perfect, shiny, dark brown button sitting on the desk. Even with a slight shoulder sag from magical weariness, her smirk of success lit up the room.
"Very good, Hermione," exclaimed Tutor Lupin. "Do you think you could teach that level of concentration and intent to Harry? He seems to think that DADA is the end and be all of his classes. The others don't seem to interest him much."
Lupin's enhanced hearing barely caught the muttered, "Boys," that the girl uttered. He had to fight a grin as Harry had apparently heard her also and blushed bright red.
Embarrassed, Harry spun towards his beetle and pointed his wand. His intent was sharp, his magic was gathering, his mouth opened to say the incantation when his brain kicked in.
"If I perform this right now, the right way, both of them will know something is wrong. What can I do?
His sudden loss of concentration saved him. The beetle turned into a shiny, brown button but with six tiny, pincered feet sticking out from the sides. Close, but not a working button.
It was a relieved Harry who turned to the other two and said, "Oops."
The first genuine Hermione smile of the day graced her face, and she edged over so as to be able to watch Harry more closely.
It took Harry two more 'tries' before he was successful with the transfiguration.
After the afternoon tea, during which Hermione quizzed their tutor why the spell's incantation mattered, Harry listened but was lost most of the time.
After tea, Lupin moved onto second-year charms. Again, Hermione went into superhuman concentration. The Engorgement Charm and the Immobulus Freezing Charm were perfected and left in the dust.
It was time to take Hermione home, and Harry was feeling amused as he watched his best friend acting as though she had been hit with a Cheering Charm. Somehow 'giddily happy' was a two-word term he had never associated with her.
And seeing her like this made something tighten in his chest.
Ypres popped them into the Granger residence about an hour before the dentists were expected home. Harry went to the kitchen to look through the refrigerator and cupboards to see what was available for dinner.
It turned out Harry had guessed right in that there were few supplies as the Grangers had not wanted anything to spoil while they were on the continent. And they had spent Sunday at his Manor instead of grocery shopping.
A quick word with the little elf, and five minutes later a basket appeared on the kitchen table.
He never saw his little helper but said "Thank you" to the area anyway.
The basket contained what he had asked for. Langoustines, mussels, brown shrimp, and angel hair pasta for the main course. Butter, garlic, and heavy whipping cream for the alfredo sauce.
Harry had read the recipe for what he wanted to cook, but had known the Dursleys would never have eaten such 'foreign' muck and then abused him for wasting food.
He leaned through the kitchen doorway and asked Hermione to telephone her parents and see if they could bring some ice cream for dessert, and please have them give him about thirty minutes warning before they were expected to arrive home.
The brutal boot camp of cooking his Aunt Petunia had subjected him to now showed in smooth, practiced moves.
Hermione sat on a stool at the kitchen island and watched with growing awe.
Harry set the butter and garlic to cooking, then worked in the heavy cream and Italian seasonings while continuing to whisk. A bit of salt, some pepper, a touch of garlic and the sauce was set aside to thicken.
Very lightly salted water was set to boil for the pasta, shrimp, and mussels. Another pan was prepped for braising the langoustines. (1)
It was then she noticed her parents had arrived in the kitchen. Harry said they would have fifteen minutes to freshen up, then dinner would be served. The adults quickly complied. The aromas filling the house were giving them an appetite.
The drained pasta was dumped in a warm bowl, and a pan for melting butter took its place.
Just watching Harry gave Hermione a good idea as to what serving bowls would be needed for the dining table. As the Grangers came back and sat, the two youngsters brought everything to the table.
Harry explained the alfredo sauce was mainly for the pasta but any of the seafood could be dipped in it. The melted butter was for the seafood and the lemon wedges were for those that liked fresh lemon on seafood.
As they tucked in were astounded as to how a simple-looking dinner could have such complex flavouring. Harry didn't see the glances around him as he ate the repast as a seafood alfredo dish, with occasionally simply dunking a mussel in the melted butter for the taste.
The simple triple vanilla ice cream for afters was perfect as far as Harry was concerned, and he made his appreciation known. In haste, the food contented Granger's expressed their thank you's about how great the dinner was and it was the perfect meal after a stress-filled, hot summer's day.
Harry looked uncomfortable accepting the praise.
Hector could not contain his curiosity. "Harry, how did you learn to cook so well? Did your family pay for cooking lessons?"
The instant stillness of his wife, daughter and Harry alerted him that he had said something wrong.
Harry broke the silence by carelessly shrugging his shoulders and saying, "I learned by cooking for my relatives for the last se . . . five years." He did not raise his eyes off the table as he spoke.
Hector was struggling to defuse the situation he had created when Helen bailed him out by asking Hermione what she had learned today.
There followed a detailed description of all the wand movements and incantations they had learned. And the formation of the Wizengamot was good for another ten minutes of explanations.
Afterward, Helen shooed the others out so she could clean up. She had to practically throw Harry out by the scruff of his neck as she loudly stated that the person who cooks, does not have to clean up.
In the parlour, Hector told Harry that he had talked that day to a solicitor friend, who told him the odds were great that the contact person, who could turn Harry into a 'real' inheritor in the real world was probably buried somewhere in the mass of paperwork from around eleven years ago. "Don't forget those binders tomorrow," he exhorted as he went down the hall towards his office with two weeks' worth of the dental business post in a basket.
The two youngsters settled on the couch in front of the telly, and with nothing that excited them showing, they settled for a Beeb nature show about the Serengeti Plain in East Africa.
It was the most relaxed Harry had been around Hermione since his first visit to her house. The two sat close together. Not touching, but a ten-pound note would have had trouble sliding between them. At the end of the show, Harry reluctantly concluded he should best head home.
After reconfirming that he would arrive just as her parents left at eight o'clock, he called Ypres and after a quick Hermione hug, vanished with the house elf characteristic 'pop'.
Between his chewing over his memories of the days' magic classes, the stress of wondering when his friend was going to drop the hammer on him, and his excitement at getting her surprise present in the alley tomorrow, Harry had trouble dropping off.
*/
Harry was slow to wake and slow to prepare himself for the day. It took a hurried eggs, sausage and toast breakfast with two large mugs of strong tea to get him functioning.
Grumbling, he donned his overly large baby whale castoffs with suitable tracking charms attached and tucked his flat wizards' hat and a modern open-front cloak into his loose waistband. He decided against taking his backpack as it was a noticeably quality item. If he needed storage, he figured Hermione would rent him space in hers.
He double-checked with Lupin who patiently told him for the fourth time he would be waiting for them in the Leaky Cauldron and would trail them in disguise to help if there was trouble.
At five minutes before eight o'clock he had Ypres pop him to Hermione's backyard. She must have been looking for him as she opened the door before he and Ypres made the door. A hug from Hermione, a wave and nod from her leaving-out-the-car-park door parents, and Hermione was ready to go before Harry reminded her that few shops were open before nine. He suggested tea here rather than killing time in the occasionally dodgy Leaky Cauldron.
From the way she sometimes looked like she was about to say something, then visibly reined herself in, Harry could tell his time of interrogation was nearing, but not yet.
As he looked at her this morning, he had an epiphany. Her white shirt and white, black and red calf-length skirt, and shoes were of quality, yet understated. She was like the wristwatch she wore that she kept continually checking. Slim black strap, simple oval black and silver case, and face, yet a quality piece, built for years of use. It could be noticeably dressy or disappear when teamed with casual clothes.
Finally, he relented and called Ypres to pop them to a grungy alley a short walk from the Leaky. Waving at Tom as they walked through, they donned their over-robes before opening the wall and entering the Alley, headed for Gringotts bank to allow Hermione to change her English pounds into Gringotts galleons.
As they were leaving the bank Hermione looked a bit puzzled. "Harry, why are you, and I, not disguised this time here?"
"Simple. This time I don't care if I'm seen. I'm just another student gathering his school supplies with his best friend. I'm fairly sure Dumbledore will allow me one visit per year with my friend to Diagon Alley."
He noticed her slight frown at his once again casual antipathy towards one of her wizard world icons, Albus Dumbledore.
That it was his second 'public' trip didn't worry him. He was sure the 'shopping with his friend' excuse would fly.
Hermione needed everything. Potion ingredients, new ingredient knives, a supply of self-inking quills, lots of parchment, then extra parchment, then ink, even colour changing ink. And it all disappeared into her magical backpack.
Madame Malkin's was a shop she had to visit due to outgrowing last year's school uniform. They would have to return in an hour to pick up her purchases due to how busy the store was.
Harry managed to get her to go with him to Ollivander's. The siren call of Flourish and Blott's was becoming overwhelming to her, but Harry promised it would be a quick visit.
There were no other customers as the pair entered the shop.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, eleven inches holly and phoenix feather. Miss Granger, ten-and three-quarter inches, vine and Cherenwell Red dragon heartstring. What can I do for you today?"
"Sir", Harry explained. "I seem to keep getting into situations where I need my wand in a hurry, but getting it out of my school robe pocket quickly is dodgy at best. Is there anything you can do for me? One of these days Malfoy is going to get the drop on me, and I don't know if I'll be merely humiliated or hurt badly. He's a bully that for some reason really, really hates me."
The old wandmaker looked Harry in the eye for several moments. "Perhaps I can. What did you have in mind?"
What Harry wanted was one of those forearm wand holsters that aurors had. He'd seen them during Third year on aurors guarding the Alley against his escaped godfather, Sirius Black. After the World Cup where his wand had been literally picked from his pocket by some Death Eater, and used to cast that terror spell into the sky, Harry wanted an Auror holster. One from which no one could summon his wand away from him.
"I've heard some of the sixth and seventh-year Pureblood's talking about a forearm dueling holster? Apparently, it is something that lets you get your wand out really fast," he said making his voice into a question.
"And, I want one for my friend here. Being my friend has pasted a target on her back also."
Again, the appraising stare from the Ollivander, before he turned and shuffled towards the back of his shop.
"Harry, I don't need another holster." she said gesturing to her hip, "this one will work just fine. And I designed it," she finished archly.
"One," he replied, "it will work alright, but it looks like a muggle contraption. Two, you're going to have to sweep your uniform robe out of the way as you reach for it. If you button your robe or cloak for warmth, your wand might as well be in your trunk."
"Very good, Lord Potter," came the voice of the wandmaker that they had not realized had returned. "Everything you said is true."
Harry was stunned speechless, panic rising as Ollivander's greeting registered.
"Do not worry, Lord Potter. I will not tell anyone that you have ascended to your Lordship."
Turning to the now tremendously intrigued and therefore slightly flustered young girl, he continued, "Although I must commend you, Miss Granger, for having given a thought outside of normal about the quick access to your wand problem."
They noticed he had returned carrying two leather contraptions and a wooden box, his aged hands arranging the objects on the counter.
"Bare your wand arms, please," he said.
Both youths were wearing short sleeve shirts so shrugging off their robes effectively bared their arms.
Grabbing the buckled and strapped contraptions he expertly placed them around both forearms, buckling and tightening straps. As he finished with Hermione, he started his lecturing. "These are silk-backed, dragon hide, junior auror grade wand holsters. Note this double row of 'buttons'. The small ones regulate how fast the wand ejects into your hand. Left is slowest, right is fastest. Tap them with your wand and they will regulate how fast the wand slides into your hand.
The larger buttons have another use. Complete disillusionment of the holster by tapping the dark one, and making the holster non-summonable by tapping the white button."
"First, place a Cushioning Charm on the floor next to you. Now slide your wand, handle first, into that tube of hide along the inside of your forearm. Yes, Miss Granger, the wand is longer than your forearm, but it will fit."
Doubting glower.
"Um, it's called magic for a reason, Miss Granger."
A red-faced, suitably chastised Hermione inserted her wand into the holster. Harry did the same.
"Now, both of you. First, twitch your hand like you were tensing to grab your wand as it slides out of your holster. That move tells the holster to launch the wand towards your hand. Now you have to grab the wand as it quickly slides out of the holster past your hand."
"Both of you show me what you think is your hand twitch that will impel your wand out of your holster. Not bad, Miss Granger, but curl your little and ring fingers a little less. Lord Potter, you need to curl your whole hand a bit more."
After a few more minutes on the mechanics of getting the holster to launch the wand, The old man had them take their wands and tap the left hand most button in the row of five, and reinsert the wand into the holster.
"Point your arms down, and twitch!"
Both wands ended up sliding through the too-slow-to-close hands before plopping onto the cushioned floor.
"That is why you practice with a cushioning spell under you," cackled the old wandmaker as the two picked their wands up off the floor. "So's you don't nick or chip your wand when you drop it on a hard floor."
The two kept practicing under Ollivander's watchful eye for the next five minutes. Hermione never did catch hers. Harry managed to barely snag his wand with his forefinger as the practice was concluded.
The wandmaker's last words followed them out the door. "Practice, practice, practice. The average auror needs five hours of practice before consistently catching his or her wand. Then start using the higher speed wand launches. By the time you can consistently catch your wand at button five, it'll look like your wand just appeared in your hand."
"And listen up you two, drawing your wand is not a spell. Is that understood?"
Outside the door, Harry checked the box. It had a short manual, two types of dragon hide polish, silk cloth cleaner, and several soft clothes. He showed the open box the Hermione who was lackluster in her approval. Harry reckoned she was still upset about her 'six-hex wand' holster being found wanting by Ollivander.
Harry had not told her about another unscheduled stop. Spectacular Spectacles was barely legible on the sign before a narrow stairway leading to a small shop over the Outfitters Shoppe.
A kindly-looking middle-aged witch greeted them, and after introductions, inquired as to what they wanted.
Harry explained that he had never been taken to an eyewear shop and wanted to replace his oft-repaired, ill-fitting, and frankly ugly glasses with something new.
Hermione watched enthralled, as instead of the weird looking, hung from a swivel ocular measurer Mundanes used, the witch cast some spells over Harry's eyes, pointed her wand at a set of very plain glasses, and muttered a spell. She then placed the glasses on Harry and asked if he could see that collection of coloured dots on the wall over there.
It took Harry a few moments to comply as he was staring all around at the suddenly non-blurry office. He then looked at the three rows of coloured dots. The top row was red, the middle row green, and the bottom row was black. The dots became smaller from left to right.
"Um, yes," he started. "I can see three rows of one, two, . . . nine dots."
"Excellent!" the pleased witch exclaimed, clapping her hands. "That means you have perfect vision. Now, I understand you are the youngest seeker for Hogwarts in a century. How about I make you one pair that are legal to play Quidditch with, and another pair with some, shall I say, interesting enhancements?"
The pair left the eyewear shop with Hermione wearing a pleased smile. Harry had asked her advice on which glasses looked good on him, and she was delighted that he had picked a pair of rounded rectangular, silver wire-framed glasses that she thought he looked 'dishy' wearing.
The smile became a feral smirk as the bookstore was the next stop. Harry was smiling and looking all around at the sharp clarity of the magicked/transfigured lenses in his old glass frames. He planned on keeping his old pair until his big Lord Potter reveal.
Erzelkendis would be pleased he would be putting on a show in a little over a week.
He could pick up his Quidditch legal pair Thursday. He would send Hedwig for his 'everyday' pair in a little over a week. His purse was lighter by over seventeen galleons, but Harry thought they were well worth the money.
With Harry exclaiming, "Onward to the book store!" a focused, determined, almost possessed daemon, took Hermione's place as she strode through the doorway, and Harry Who? found himself abandoned. He also had several books he wanted to purchase, three for Hermione on potions, and some other books about the Geezermot, magical careers, and products of magical Britannia.
It was during his browsing of the bookshelves, he kept running into or meeting some of his classmates. He stopped in front of a somewhat surprised Susan Bones and Hanna Abbott, and politely inquired about how their summer had been. His fourteen-year-old brain managed to not ogle the developing auburn-haired Miss Bones, and politely excused himself after spotting Neville in the crowd and then chatted with him about his summer with his greenhouse.
Next, a few pleasant minutes with the Patil twins. Padma was pleasant, Parvati was giggly, and their mother seemed pleased. Then surprising himself, he managed to actually carry on an admittedly short, but non-confrontational, talk with the Slytherin's Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis.
It was after his talk with the very pretty, but stiff-acting blonde and her sober light brunette-haired friend that Harry decided to stand in a quiet corner, faking he was reading some book, and have a minor nervous breakdown.
Even at the lofty age of almost fifteen, and all the girls had been only twelve-year-old's, talking to them without becoming tongue-tied, especially since they had been in pairs today, had been a strain. But, at school, with all the inter-house rivalry and incessant gossip, having just a friendly, nonsensical meeting chat was almost impossible without it being wrongly interpreted, badly repeated, and completely misunderstood by ninety percent of the student population.
And the teachers were no better. He remembered how Professor Sprout had become decidedly unfriendly after his supposed cheating stole Cedric the Hufflepuff's glory.
"Wonder how she felt after he died?" he thought bitterly.
Anyway, Hermione's time was up, and they had to get Harry's binders and folders to organize the muggle side of his money.
Girding his loins, he went in search of his bushy-haired friend hoping she was sated enough to leave the Alley for a while.
After some pleading persuasion, Harry managed to get her out of Flourish and Blott's because they had to do money management shopping. Retreating to a private corner of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was able to call Ypres to take their purchases and wizard clothes to Hermione's room in her house.
The duo then walked to where they could hail a cab and Hermione instructed the driver to take them to the nearest Office One Superstore. A short ride left Harry eleven pounds lighter, but when they entered, he was in a store the likes he had never seen before.
Before him were dozens of computer towers with monitors, keyboards, and printers. And they all looked better than what Dudley had. A score of comfortable office chairs and modern-looking desks. Boxes of printer paper, more writing and drawing stuff than he had ever imagined.
Hermione led him to an aisle labeled 'School and Office Supplies' and Harry found his nirvana.
There were notebooks. Brand new, not mostly Dudley-destroyed, notebooks, with covers, and crisp, unmarked lined paper. New pencils, with unused erasers. New pens, whole, with no chew marks, or with a part broken off. Expanding organizing file folders. Folders with storage pockets for subject organization.
And then, Hermione pointed out the three-ring binder area. He was almost panting in excitement looking at four-inch, three-inch, two-and-one-half inch, two-inch, and down to even three-quarter inch. And all in colours that Harry had forgotten about existed in muggle school supplies.
It took Hermione showing up with a store trolley to bring him back to the present. Harry grubbed into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment with thirteen lines drawn at different lengths.
Showing Hermione, he arbitrarily assigned the six longest lines a four-inch binder, three-inch to the next four, and two-and-a-half for the remaining four and excitedly started to pile them into the trolley when a gentle hand was placed on his arm.
"Um, Harry? You do remember wizards have a duplicating spell? Why don't you get Mr. Lupin to duplicate some of those binders?"
For a moment, Harry hung his head for forgetting he was a wizard just because he was surrounded by muggle things, then placed half the binders back on the shelves.
He finished picking up two additional binders of each type and said to her when she shot him an exasperated look, "I have a lot of Gringotts parchment that I can punch holes in and put in a binder also."
They cruised the rest of the store, collecting tabbed subject separating sheets, a dozen notebooks, several types of paper clips, a stapler, fountain pens, ballpoint pens, a case of pencils, and a desk mount sharpener.
The pride of place went to a large, long-lever three-hole punch from an office supply case, a large accounting book, and a twelve-pack of feathered, fluffy, glittery, girly pink and green ink pens Hermione had espied and thrown into the trolley.
When he gave her a funny look about the last, she merely smirked at him.
After settling up the tab, they had a trio of heavy, awkward bags to carry. A bit of seclusion, a call to Ypres, a taxi back to Charing Cross Road, and in a very short time the pair were eating a late lunch in the Leakey Cauldron.
Harry was quite pleased to suddenly see Mr. Lupin appear where Hermione couldn't see him and give him a thumbs up.
During lunch, Hermione tried to wheedle out of Harry the obvious secret plan that involved her, that he was hiding from her. Stern McGonagall impressions, begging puppy eyes, mock begging for hints, nothing worked.
Paying the bill to an obviously listening in, grinning Tom, Harry led her towards the Magical Menagerie.
"What are we doing here, Harry? You can't have another pet at Hogwarts. The rules specifically state you can have only one pet. Why . . ."
Harry actually gently covered her mouth with his hand. "I met a friend here the other day, and he told me he was waiting for someone special. Would you like to meet him?"
Shocked at what Harry had done, she nodded numbly. Walking to the back of the store, he saw his 'friend' sitting in his open cage. Eyeing Harry, the ginger-furred, squash-faced half-kneazle was in the middle of a classic low-front, high hind-end cat stretch when his attention sharpened and without warning bounded from his cage, leaped off Harry's shoulder and landed on the shoulder and chest of a very surprised Hermione Granger.
The rumbling purr from the half-kneazle could be heard throughout the store.
*/
A/N:
Awwww.
Just tidying up the summer.
One: Langostines are a crustacean about the size of very large crayfish or small lobster.
Hogwarts is where the action is. (Such as there will be)
I plan, and Fate ROFLHAO. The campground where I will be at the next update time managed to burn down their lodge
with the WiFi equipment. Probably four weeks until the next chapter.