Chapter 7 – 6th July 1988 - Noon
When Harry, Nym, and Andromeda were ready to leave for Diagon Alley, Harry was relieved to learn that they'd be taking the Knight Bus to the Leakey Cauldron.
It was only a half-hour drive from Stoke Newington, but something told Harry that wasn't why they were going that way.
"It's because my daughter isn't the most graceful with floo powder," Andromeda explained. "The last time Nymphadora tried going that way, she ended up in Knockturn Alley and didn't come home until six in the evening."
Harry was proud of Nym for not glaring at her mother for using her name. Seeing her stick her tongue out at Andromeda was amusing enough.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Mum?" Nym insisted. "Nothing happened. I got out alright when Bill and Charlie found me…"
"After Mrs. Weasley put us on a floo call over what happened," Andromeda reiterated. "Besides, the last thing Harry needs is to pick up your habit of kicking and choking up ashes."
Too late, Harry thought, stifling another chuckle. Nym glared back at him, but he wasn't budging. Harry reckoned he'd tell all three Tonkses about the same misadventure he had right before his second year.
Outside on the pavement, Nym held out her wand to summon the Knight Bus. She'd only tripped once more off the doorstep, so there was no need to worry about that.
"Take that, mum," Nym muttered, throwing her hair back, swinging a hip in Andromeda's direction.
When the purple, triple-decker Knight Bus finally arrived, Harry was surprised to discover that the conductor awaiting them was not Stan Shunpike, the young, pimple-faced man who'd welcomed him aboard two years ago.
But Harry recalled that Stan had to be no more than eighteen or nineteen years old when last they met, barely out of Hogwarts.
Instead, this conductor was a short lady at least seventy years old, hence her wrinkled and spotted skin. Her hair was short, curly, and as white as hair could get, with a pair of rectangular glasses upon her nose.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus; Daytime Services," she spoke in a sweet, but croaky voice. "My name is Winifred Wartsoff, and I'll be your conductor today… Three, then?"
As Andromeda handed Winifred the sickles for each of their tickets, she hand-signaled for Harry and Nym to board.
"Go on, children," she instructed.
The two adolescents casually took each other's hands as Nym pulled Harry up the bus stairs. But as disbelieving as it was to see a conductor the opposite of Stan Shunpike, it was more so that there were no beds inside the bus like when last Harry rode it.
Instead, there were seats, but what looked like muggle folding chairs, not even bolted to the floor.
Nym pulled Harry to a pair of seats by a window on the right-hand side. Even before it started moving, her rear end was already on the seat's edge.
But once Andromeda boarded, she sat down behind them, after gently, but firmly, pushing Nym to the back of her seat.
"Sit back," she instructed. "The second-to-last thing we need now is for you to fall on your face while the vehicle is in motion."
"No need, Andi," Harry whispered. "I already did that for her two years ago…"
He chuckled at his own joke, but Andromeda presented him with a look that demanded an explanation later. Nym's expression, on the contrary, was one of sweet surprise, but still asked the same question.
Before Harry could consider how to tell them, the bus doors pulled closed, as Winifred trudged up the steps and ratted on the driver's windowpane.
"Take us away," she requested.
The bus engine roared up a storm and the Knight Bus lunged forward. Harry and Nym's seats were blown backwards, only to be caught by Andromeda, whose feet were holding her seat to the floor.
As the scene outside changed at lightning speed from one borough of London to the next, Nym gripped the edge of her seat. Her other hand promptly raised Harry's into the air, smiling madly and staring wide-eyed at him like Sirius did in his last vision.
With how sensitive she was about tripping over herself, Harry couldn't believe the way Nym looked right now.
"What are you thinking?" She hollered.
"That this might be only my second-favourite way to travel," He replied, though she didn't notice his sarcasm.
But Harry had to admit, this and floo powder were preferable to the tug at the stomach from portkey travel. There was nothing sickening about the bus, the floo, or even broomsticks although for him, that was still far above the other two.
Getting to the Leakey Cauldron only took a third of the time Harry rode there from Surrey two years before.
As they neared it, they didn't hear Andromeda's voice order, "Keep your feet planted…"
Instead, when the bus came to a full stop, Nym tightened her grip on Harry's hand, as both were thrust out of their seats, face first into the front window.
After avoiding kissing the glass, both teenagers fell to the floor. Harry rolled his eyes at Nym, who was giggling like an idiot.
"That is the only way I want to fall on my face," she exhaled.
"Duly noted," Harry murmured.
Nym staggered to her feet like a newborn giraffe, pulling Harry up as they disembarked from the Knight Bus, with Andromeda right behind them.
The sign for the Leakey Cauldron looked no different from when last Harry saw it. It was like the place was frozen in time, apart from a few punkishly dressed youths on the corner of the street, which Nym might have fit right in with.
The inside of the Leakey Cauldron was as dark and shabby as ever it was. Some were drinking sherry, some smoking pipes, but old Tom, the bald walnut of a bartender was still tending.
"Andromeda! Nymphadora!" He exclaimed. "To what do I owe the Tonks ladies today?"
"Nothing today, Tom," Andromeda insisted, shaking her head. "We've got lots to do in the alley today."
"Mr. Harley Evans here is going to be staying with us, so we're getting him a few things," Tonks explained with pride, pulling Harry in front of her.
Tom extended his hand for Harry to shake. But doing it in disguise reminded Harry all too well of their first meeting.
"Evans, Evans, Evans…" He murmured. "A muggleborn, then?"
"Yeah," Harry exhaled, sounding just as nervous as when he was a first year.
"Not related, by any chance, to a Ms. Lily Evans, are we?" Tom questioned.
"No, just a coincidence," Harry replied, sadly shaking his head. "There are too many people called Evans in the muggle world…"
He wasn't happy about having to maintain that pretense, but Nym must have noticed, since she butted right between them.
"So, no time to talk," She concluded, pulling Harry's hand out. "We've got lots to buy and so little time to buy them in…"
Tom waved farewell to them as they exited through the back door, into the brick-walled courtyard, with the same corner dustbin and weed on the floor.
Andromeda tapped her wand upon the three bricks up and two across from the dustbin. As expected, the bricks in the wall began to rotate until they left a human-sized opening, for Harry and the Tonks ladies to pass through.
Even Diagon Alley had hardly changed in the seven years Harry had traveled back. All the same shops, selling all the same items, except Quality Quidditch Supplies.
The last time Harry was there, the broomstick in the window was one he proudly owned; The Firebolt, the fastest broomstick ever produced until then. But here, the broomstick in question read, Nimbus 1900 on the head.
Of course, there were children a bit younger than him gathered at the window, pressing their noses against it, crying,
"Look at it!"
"The new Nimbus 1900!"
"It's the fastest model yet!"
To Harry, it didn't look as impressive as his Firebolt, but it was much better looking than any of the old Shooting Stars he'd rode as a substitution.
"Harley, Nymphadora," Andromeda interrupted.
When their heads whipped in her direction, she dropped a small handful of coins into Harry's.
"I'll be heading over to Gringotts to collect some extra money," Andromeda informed. "Until I return, why don't you two head over to Florean Fortescue's and help yourselves to a spot of ice cream?"
"Oh, thanks mum," Nym replied, trying to keep her attitude in check. "Come on, Harr… I mean, Harley…"
She seized Harry's hand, but his mind was wrapped around the thought of somebody else spending money for him. For his whole life in the Wizarding World, he funded almost his every endeavor himself.
But now, he could not access the vault in the Gringotts bank that would grant him his independence.
An ice cream would help get his mind off this little issue. It pleased him to see Nym with the same childish excitement for ice cream that Ron had.
When they arrived at the parlour, with its pale-yellow painted windows and large figural ice cream cone sign, there was an impressively long line of customers stretching out the door, to the front door of a toy shop, with purple-painted windows, called Pilliwinkle's Playthings.
It was admittedly a little embarrassing for Harry to be waiting by the entrance to a children's store, but he suddenly felt like he'd lost something in his life when he saw who was leaving the shop.
Some groups of children, no older than eight, and their parents leaving the store, cuddling their purchases to their sides.
The line moved quickly and before they knew it, their turn had come to order. Mr. Fortescue was not there to take their order, but a girl, perhaps two or three years older than them, with platinum blonde hair and a more developed figure than Nym's.
"Hi, what can I get you two?" she began, eyeing the two of them up and down.
"I'll have a strawberry and peanut butter cone with crystals…" Nym interrupted.
"And a… chocolate and raspberry cone… with chopped nuts for me, please…" Harry finished.
As soon as they were handed their cones, Nym dropped their money on the counter and, with a quick thank-you, pulled Harry out the door, to a small table by the shop windows.
"Someone was in a hurry back there," he mused.
"I didn't like the way she looked," Nym explained. "Or how she looked at us…"
Harry shrugged it off, but as Nym began to reach for a seat, he suddenly felt compelled to pull it out for her. She exchanged a rather coy smile with him, but as he sat down and they began licking their ice creams, Harry took another glance around the place.
Quality Quidditch Supplies was on the opposite side of the street, three shops down from them. The crowd of children goggling at the new racing broom in the window was growing by the minute.
"Getting another idea for your room?" Nym suggested.
Harry nodded and gestured in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supplies, which made Nym smile a bit.
"Thinking about joining the team at Hogwarts?" Nym requested.
"I already have," Harry replied, shifting his shoulders. "I don't like to brag about this, but everybody else does…"
He proceeded to tell her the story of how he became the youngest seeker in a century in just his first year at Hogwarts. He sounded a bit dejected as he explained it, but he knew Nym would only admire him more for it.
"Bloody hell…" she gasped like a Weasley.
"It was nothing," Harry insisted. "Just sheer dumb luck, according to McGonagall."
"We'll see about that…" Nym teased. "For now, I've got a few more ideas up my sleeve…"
She gestured to the next shop on their right, painted with golden windows, called Fantasia's. Resting in the window were the same Huckabee guitars from the Heardles' poster, along with one more that seemed to overshadow the rest.
It was larger, with a slash-shaped hole in the left, green like the Merlin with a spotted orange pickguard, inline tuners, and two cutaways, the longer one curling into a dot on top.
But even more interestingly, this one had twelve strings instead of the usual six.
Somehow, Harry could sense Nym knew what he was looking at. As they finished their cones, he stood up, wanting to go browse. But as he went to pull Nym's chair out, they heard Andromeda's voice calling,
"Harley! Nymphadora!"
Andromeda squeezed her way through the alley crowds, approaching the small table with a small leather pouch. A pouch that did not look nearly large enough for the money they'd need.
Once again, on the spur of the moment, Harry suspected maybe there was some kind of extension charm on the bag. He'd seen a similar one a summer ago in the Weasleys' tent at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Enjoyed our ice cream, have we?" Andromeda suggested, grinning as both teenagers nodded in approval.
"I have plenty of gold for you both, so…," she continued.
"Way ahead of you, mum," Nym interrupted, snatching the pouch from her hand. "C'mon, Harry!"
"Nymphadora!" Andromeda demanded. "I was going to suggest heading to Madam Malkin's first, seeing that it's right across from you…"
But Nym truly was well ahead of her mother, since she grabbed Harry by the wrist and dashed right towards the front door to Madam Malkin's.
"Time to get you some real clothes, Mr. Evans!" Nym laughed.
"But isn't Madam Malkin's a robe shop?" Harry panted.
"It is," Nym continued. "But they sell normal clothes, too. Where else do you think they sell the shirts, jumpers, or caps for all the teams and bands?"
"Oh, I don't know…" Harry shrugged with a gasp. "Concerts, games, Quality Quidditch Supplies…"
"Whatever rubbish the stuck-up purebloods wear…" Nym frowned. "They get from Twilfitt and Tattings, right across from the second-hand robe shop."
As soon as the door chime rang, another girl slid out from behind a backwall curtain. She was about the same age as the server at Fortescue's, but shorter and a bit squatter, with curly red hair,
"Good morning! Welcome to Madam Malkin's." She began. "My name is Aileen; how may I help you? Getting an early start on Hogwarts shopping?"
"Not today," Nym replied, eagerly shaking her head. "But Harley here needs a whole wardrobe of normal clothes! My mum found him, lost in the streets with nothing but the stuff off his back, so he'll be staying with us."
Aileen frowned and her eyes widened; a whole wardrobe for an abandoned child?
"Is that so?" she asked.
"Yeah," Harry replied, falsely sagging his shoulders. "I'm a muggleborn and I didn't find out I was a wizard until this year…"
He inhaled before continuing,
"I lived in a care home, but I never got any letters. Then the home closed roundabout a month ago and I was out on my own, and my letter finally dropped on me in the street."
This was a story he made up with the Tonkses at dinner last night to explain his new alias. It was perfectly believable since Aileen was giving him a pitiful expression.
"Merlin, I'm so sorry…"
"Don't be," Harry exhaled, relieved that she bought it. "I've got a roof over my head now, haven't I?"
"That's right," Nym agreed with a cheeky grin. "But enough talk, let's make with the clothes! I've got a boy to be my walking dress up doll and there's no way he can complain about it!"
Harry rolled his eyes as Nym pushed him past another curtain, into a room filled with muggle or muggle-style clothing.
Racks and racks of shirts, trousers, jeans, cargo shorts, jumpers, and jackets. Box after box of shoes and trainers lining shelf after shelf. Folded T-shirts and packs of things Harry couldn't identify stacked upon tables behind the racks.
At the back of the room, Nym pushed Harry into a changing stall, but he felt his blush intensify as she offered him two packs from the table; one of them contained boxer pants, the other briefs.
It didn't take long for Harry to decide between those two; The latter choice of pants, he felt, was suited more to his cousin.
Speaking of which, Harry was prompted to remove his phoenix feather from his back pocket after a light prod in the rear.
It took them about an hour and three quarters to go through everything Harry would need.
By the time they were finished, Harry stepped out of Madam Malkin's in a pair of brown tight-fitting jeans, a carmel brown shirt jacket covered in embroidery patches, a matching pair of dragonhide boots, fingerless gloves, and a tie-dye Heardles t-shirt in purple, magenta, and yellow.
Resting upon the bridge of his nose was a pair of small rectangular sunglasses with green mirrored lenses.
Nym had found these on a rotating rack in the store and insisted Harry wear them. He wasn't sure why, but he had to admit, the mirror effect on the lenses were kind of cool.
Nym stuffed all of Harry's purchases into a single shopping bag, probably equipped with another extension charm, before sliding it onto onto his arm.
He wasn't completely used to her flashing a wide smile at him yet, but it made him feel another poke to the rear.
"Alright, where to next?" Nym requested.
"Ollivander's," Harry replied. "The sooner I get this other thing out of my back pocket, the better."
"You go on ahead," Nym suggested. "I have a few more things I want to get. I'll catch up with you in a mo'…"
She offered him a wink and another coy expression before darting off in the direction of Fantasia's and Quality Quidditch Supplies.
This reminded Harry too well of his first trip to Diagon Alley. Although when Hagrid had gone off without him, he'd returned with a little surprise.
This time, that seemed a bit less likely, so Harry shrugged it off and headed to the end of the alley. Even narrow old Ollivander's Wand Shop appeared to be frozen in time.
The door chime rang again as Harry entered, feeling the same loss for words he did on his first visit. But his mind was not filled to the brim with questions. On the contrary, he was more concerned with how many questions Mr. Ollivander would have for Harley Evans.
"Good afternoon," creaked the voice of Mr. Ollivander, who slid out from a room behind the front desk.
"I haven't seen you here before. How is it I can help you, Mr.…"
"Evans," Harry finished. "Harley Evans."
He told Mr. Ollivander the same story he'd given in Madam Malkin's but added one last embellishment.
"Dumbledore's phoenix finally delivered my Hogwarts letter last month… but he dropped a feather… When I went to pick my letter up, the feather just… flew into my hand… almost like it was meant for me… so I'll need a wand for it…"
Again, Harry was pleased that Ollivander didn't take long to reply, despite a pair of raised eyebrows.
"Hmmm… It's quite rare that a wizard finds a matching substance before it's embedded into a wand," Olivander explained.
"Particularly a phoenix feather, and not often for a wizard so young as yourself. Do you have the feather with you, Mr. Evans?"
Harry fished his old phoenix feather out of his back pocket, looking as untouched as it had been since his holly wand was destroyed. He handed it to Mr. Ollivander, who began stroking it gingerly, not fluffing it a bit.
He then pulled out his own wand and waved it across the feather a few times, before stroking his chin.
"This feather is not fresh," Ollivander noted. "Its traces indicate it was part of a wand before."
"It probably was," Harry improvised. "The phoenix carried it in his talons, with the letter…"
Olivander turned the wand up and over a few more times before muttering something that sounded like, Curious… very curious…
He reached onto a side shelf, stacking up a few boxes, then laying them upon the counter. But these boxes were wider than the ones holding individual wands.
"Give some of these blanks a feel, Mr. Evans," Ollivander suggested.
"Simply run your hand across them and see which type of wood calls to you. Then, the only step left in the process is testing out lengths…"
Most of the boxes Ollivander had laid out were in quite dull, drab grayish colours, but there was one in a much brighter maroon that caught Harry's eyes.
Once he opened it, he felt a warm pulse extend from the blanks to his hand. He chose a blank, the length of his old wand, and mimicked a few spells, before it slid slightly out of his grip.
It only took three extra tries before Harry finally found one that didn't slip with a wave.
He felt a bit of hesitation to hand it and the phoenix feather back to Mr. Ollivander. But that did not occur to him when he'd gotten his first wand.
"Redwood and Phoenix Feather, thirteen inches long," Ollivander softly mused. "Not a common wand choice… All three elements seem to harmonize with one another; they ensure longevity, to both themselves and the wielder."
Ollivander had never explained wand properties before, but he must have read that from Harry as he twirled the blank in his fingers.
"Redwood can sustain flames, much like the phoenix feather," He continued. "It indicates an ability to seize opportunities in times of catastrophe. A length of thirteen inches also indicates an extensive lifespan for a wielder."
Ollivander slipped both the blank and the feather into his robes.
"I'll start work on this immediately, Mr. Evans," He promised. "I should have it ready for your reception within the next three hours."
"Thank you," Harry replied.
As Ollivander disappeared into the back room, Harry spotted Nym waiting outside the shop window, waving cutely when she saw him through the dusty window.
Cutely? Harry hardly ever thought he'd use that word to describe a girl.
As he stepped out the shop door, his shopping bag in tow, Nym took his hand, flashing a smile at him before blushing lightly. But it was only because Harry blushed first, but cracked a smile of his own when she did.
"What did you need?" Harry asked.
"Oh, nothing," Nym quickly shook her head. "Just a few shop catalogs…"
"Okay" Harry replied, his eyes looking off for a minute. "So, what do we do till then?"
"We're meeting mum at the Cauldron for lunch," Nym replied, placing a hand upon her stomach. "I've been dying for one of Tom's hamburgers!"
"Lead the way," Harry offered, gently beckoning his hand forward.
"No, you lead the way," Nym insisted, copying his movement.
"No, you lead the way," Harry repeated.
They kept their precocious little banter going with every step they took to the Leakey Cauldron.
It continued until they opened the door, at whence they would catch the attention of one Andromeda Tonks.