Disclaimer: Florean Fortescue belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: Yes, this story is coming back, too. I'd hit a wall with the Book 6 readings a while back that I'm still trying to push through, which is why it's been sitting so long, but I've at least got this chapter and the next one ready to go.

Chapter 4: Slughorn

The Leaky Cauldron

Professor Slughorn took up the book next, beginning from the next chapter. This one was markedly less eventful, as Harry went about a fairly normal routine at the Leaky Cauldron, shopping in Diagon Alley and admiring the new prototype Firebolt—or a mostly normal routine, at least.

"…with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry free sundaes every half an hour. Goodness, even I didn't know Florean was that generous," Slughorn commented.

Hermione gave Harry a stern look. "Was it really every half hour?" she said. "How did you not get sick?"

"Put on a bit of weight that summer, eh, Harry?" Dean added.

Harry rolled his eyes: "I think the book is exaggerating, guys." Or rather, thinking back, he was pretty sure he gave that up after the first day, when he really had had about all the ice cream he could stand.

The ice cream parlour wasn't the only thing that was stranger than usual that year. Flourish & Blotts in particular was having a difficult time.

"Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively."

"It's a miracle anyone got an intact copy that year," grumbled Professor Sprout. "Why did they make them that way?"

"The better question is, 'Why not?'" Tonks quipped, earning a rare glare from her.

"I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the Invisible Book of Invisibility—cost a fortune, and we never found them."

"That has got to be the same publisher," said Dean Thomas.

"'Unfogging the Future. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods—palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails—'"

"Ew, I'm glad we never used those in class," Hermione whispered.

Somehow it also seemed fitting that the clerk said the book about death omens could scare someone to death, even though he was probably exaggerating about that, but it was only really relevant because Harry saw an oddly familiar-looking black dog on the cover. Still, he was very much in a mood after seeing that cover, since he was trying to convince himself that it was nothing in his bathroom mirror.

"He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat.

"'You're fighting a losing battle there, dear,' said his mirror in a wheezy voice."

"Ugh, I hate those things," Hermione said. "I don't need my furniture criticising my appearance. Plus—" She looked around suspiciously. "—where does it keep its brain?"

"It has a brain?" Ron countered.

Hermione tried to glare at him, but she failed and snorted with amusement. "Okay, fair point," she said. But she made a note on her parchment anyway. That rule of thumb was obviously more complicated than she thought.

As the school year approached, Harry finally met Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley, and Ron got to show off his new wand.

"Brand new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair."

There was a low whistle nearby, thankfully not audible from the High Table. "And you know what they say about blokes with big wands."

"Seamus!" several people yelped at the culprit as Ron turned beet-red and finally punched him hard in the arm.

"Quiet!" Professor McGonagall interrupted Slughorn's reading. "Quiet down out there." Thankfully, she hadn't seemed to notice what they were saying.

"Huh? What do they say about them?" Natalie McDonald whispered cluelessly.

Ginny leaned over and clapped her hands over Natalie's ears. "Nothing, Natalie," she said, glaring at Seamus.

Back in the book, the trio were going to the pet shop. At the table, Harry growled with controlled anger when Ron talked about Scabbers being sick, the reason for his distress now being perfectly clear. But he still had to wait for that. Meanwhile, Hermione fell head over heels for the "problem kitty" of the shop, Crookshanks.

"'It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present.'

"'How about a nice book," said Ron innocently."

Hermione's friends laughed good-naturedly, causing her to glare at them.

"The cat's ginger fur was thick and fluffy, but it was definitely a bit bowlegged and its face looked grumpy and oddly squashed as though it had run headlong into a brick wall."

Hermione glared at Harry, but others at the table snickered at the description. "Honestly," she said. "Muggles think Persians are very elegant-looking cats."

Ginny shook her head: "Hermione, I love Crookshanks, but cats' heads are not meant to be that shape."

In the book, the group completed their shopping without incident after that, and in fact, it would have continued to be without incident had Harry not overheard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley discussing Sirius Black. The students gasped when they heard that Sirius Black had been muttering in his sleep and was specifically coming after Harry at Hogwarts. That evidently wasn't widely known, even two years later.

"At some point, we ought to do something about this eavesdropping habit of yours, Potter," Snape spoke down to Harry. "I'm sure certain other members of the staff could name other times when you've done so." Clearly referring to the Order meetings, though Harry had hardly been alone in that. Although he could admit that listening through the door at Christmas hadn't turned out so well for him.

As for the rest of the school, everyone who had been at Hogwarts that year remembered how the Ministry had stationed the Azkaban guards—the dementors—around the castle—and that had not gone as well as they'd hoped. In fact, that was probably the biggest question of that year, Hermione thought: Why did the Ministry think sending dementors to guard Hogwarts was a good idea when Sirius had already escaped them once before?

In the book, Harry was understandably unsettled by the whole thing.

"'I'm not going to be murdered,' Harry said out loud.

"'That's the spirit, dear,' his mirror said sleepily."

Neville laughed awkwardly: "You know things are getting weird when that's the conversation you have with your mirror."

However, for all that Sirius had worried him that year, the Harry in the book was presently more worried that the personal threat would make it harder for him to sneak out to Hogsmeade.

"Okay, I know I'm being a total hypocrite on this," Tonks pointed out, "but maybe work on your priorities, Harry?" There was some weak laughter.

"In any other year, it would have been a fair criticism, I think," said Professor Sprout. "It seems terribly unfair for a student never to be able to go to Hogsmeade if their guardians simply refuse to allow it out of spite."

"Students' parents and guardians have a right to declare that they do not want their child visiting Hogsmeade, Professor Sprout," McGonagall replied. "In the case that their guardians were clearly unfit, that would be dealt with directly."

"Except in Mr Potter's case."

She sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. There were extenuating circumstances, as we have seen. But we should continue. One more chapter this morning, I think. Professor Flitwick, if you would?"

"Very well, Headmistress," Flitwick said. He took the book and then frowned deeply at the next chapter. "Oh, dear," he said. "Chapter Five: The Dementor."