17. Flourish and Blotts
As the days passed, Hope's love for the Burrow grew. The house was always lively, from the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece that would shout, "Tuck your shirt in, scruffy!" or "Smooth out your hair, bed head!" to the ghoul in the attic that howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet. And, of course, there were always the small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom, which were considered perfectly normal.
Their Hogwarts letters arrived one sunny morning about a week after Harry had arrived at the Burrow. When Harry and Ron came down to breakfast, they found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hope, and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. She seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. Face burning, she dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged looking as red as the sunset. Pretending he hadn't noticed, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him.
"Letters from school," Mr. Weasley said, passing Harry and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. Hope already had hers placed on the table in front of her as she ate her porridge. "Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry—doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two have got them, too," he added as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pajamas.
For a few minutes, there was silence as they all read their letters. Hope glanced over hers, noting the usual instructions to catch the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross station on September the first. Then she reached the list of required books and groaned.
Second-year students will require:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
George peered over her shoulder. "You've got to get all of Lockhart's books, too?" he asked, shaking his head. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan. Bet it's a witch."
Hope craned her neck just enough to give him a deadpan look before lightly smacking his shoulder. "Not all witches like Lockhart. It could just as easily be a wizard."
Fred scoffed. "As if a wizard would be a fan of this—" He paused, catching his mother's eye, and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
"That lot won't come cheap," George said, glancing at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive."
"Well, we'll manage," Mrs. Weasley said, though she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things second-hand."
"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny.
She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and in her flustered state, put her elbow in the butter dish. Hope snickered, earning a glare from Ginny, but luckily for her, no one other than Hope and Harry seemed to notice. Just then, Ron's older brother Percy walked in. Already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge was pinned to his knitted tank top.
"Morning, all," Percy said briskly. "Lovely day." He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster—at least, that was what it looked like until Hope saw that it was breathing.
"Errol!" Ron groaned, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally—he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but the owl flopped straight off again. With a sigh, Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it aloud:
Dear Ron, Hope, and Harry (if you're there),
I hope everything went all right and that Harry is OK and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried, and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once? But perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish yours off.
I'm very busy with school work, of course—
"How can she be?" Ron said in horror. "We're on holiday!"
—and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?
Let me know what's happening as soon as you can.
Love from Hermione
"Well, that fits in nicely. We can go and get all your things then, too," Mrs. Weasley said, starting to clear the table. "What are you all up to today?"
Hope, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George planned to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning they could practice Quidditch there as long as they didn't fly too high. They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they escaped and flew over the village. Instead, they threw apples for each other to catch. They took turns riding Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies. Hope's old Swiftstick was nowhere near as speedy or nimble as Harry's Nimbus, but it got the job done. Harry and the twins kept telling her she was a shoo-in for the open Chaser position.
Five minutes later, they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he said he was busy. Hope had only seen Percy at meal times; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.
"Wish I knew what he was up to," Fred said, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.Ls and he hardly gloated at all."
"Tell me about it," Hope admitted worriedly. "I don't know if my dad left enough to cover this much."
Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward, knowing he had a small fortune stored in an underground vault at Gringotts.
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Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half-a-dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats. Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today... Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear! And then Hope, you'll go after him." She nodded as she offered Harry the flowerpot.
Harry stared at them all watching him. "W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.
"He's never traveled by Floo powder!" Ron blurted. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."
"Never?" Mr. Weasley looked surprised. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
"I went on the Underground," Harry said.
"Really?" Mr. Weasley's face lit up with interest. "Were there escalators? How exactly—"
"Not now, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before—"
"He'll be all right, Mum," Fred said. "Harry, watch us first."
He took a pinch of glittering powder from the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.
"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And mind you get out at the right grate..."
"The right what?" Harry asked nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight too.
"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly—"
"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," Mr. Weasley said, helping himself to some Floo powder.
"But dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?" Mrs. Weasley fretted.
"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that."
"Well... all right... you go after Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going—"
"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.
"And your eyes shut," Hope chimed in. "The soot—"
"Don't fidget," Ron added. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace—"
"But don't panic and get out too early. Wait until you see Fred and George," Mrs. Weasley instructed.
Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and stepped to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward. The fire felt like a warm breeze. He opened his mouth—and immediately swallowed a mouthful of hot ash.
"D-Dia-gonally," he coughed, and disappeared behind the emerald flames.
The group still in the Burrow blinked at each other, the crackling fire the only sound in the stunned silence left in Harry's wake.
"What did he say?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her brow furrowing.
"Diagonally," Ron answered, his voice uncertain.
Mrs. Weasley paled. "That's what I thought he said," she muttered, wringing her hands.
"Where do you think he's gone?" Hope asked, shifting anxiously on her feet.
Mrs. Weasley inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady herself. "Well—hopefully, he's only gone one grate too far." But the way she said it, as if trying to convince herself more than anyone else, did little to ease the growing worry in the room.
Ron exchanged a nervous glance with Hope before stepping toward the fireplace. "We'd better go after him."
"Right, you first, dear," Mrs. Weasley said briskly, thrusting the flowerpot toward him.
One by one, they took their turn, vanishing into the emerald flames until they were all standing in the leaky cauldron.
The moment they all landed in Diagon Alley, coughing up soot and dusting off their robes, Mrs. Weasley wasted no time. She turned to Mr. Weasley and the twins, her expression tight with worry.
"Harry said it wrong," she announced, her voice laced with urgency.
"What do you mean, wrong?" Fred asked, frowning.
"He didn't say 'Diagon Alley.' He said 'Diagonally.'"
Fred and George exchanged a glance.
"Oh," George muttered. "Yeah, that's... not ideal."
Mrs. Weasley's hands fluttered in distress. "He could be anywhere! We have to find him!"
Mr. Weasley placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Molly, he'll have only gone a grate or two off course. We'll find him."
But his calm didn't seem to ease her worry. She ushered them forward, herding them through the cobbled streets as they all searched for any sign of Harry.
Hope trailed slightly behind the rest, just barely ahead of Mrs.weasley and Ginny her shorter legs struggling to keep pace with the hurried strides of the others. Before she could fall too far behind, a warm hand suddenly grabbed hers.
She blinked, startled, looking up to see George grinning down at her. "Come on, short stuff, try to keep up," he teased, giving her hand a small tug.
Hope rolled her eyes but felt an unexpected warmth creep up her neck and into her cheeks. "You've got longer legs than me, you prat," she muttered, though she made no move to pull her hand away.
Hope tried to focus on walking, but her heart felt like it was beating faster for some reason. She could feel her face heating up, but she forced herself to look straight ahead. This wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was just George, him holding her hand to keep her from falling behind wasn't a big deal.
But for some reason, her fingers curled just a little tighter against his. His hand was bigger than hers, but not too much bigger. He didn't let go, not yet. And even though she kept telling herself this wasn't weird—this wasn't anything special—she could feel her stomach do this strange flip, a feeling she couldn't quite shake.
As soon as they landed in Diagon Alley, the familiar hum of the busy street surrounded Hope—shopkeepers shouting out deals, excited students chattering, and the constant sound of coins exchanging hands. But Mrs. Weasley barely seemed to notice any of it. She spun towards Mr. Weasley and the twins, her face tight with worry.
"Harry said it wrong," she said, pressing a hand to her chest.
Mr. Weasley frowned. "What do you mean, wrong?"
"He didn't say 'Diagon Alley.' He said 'Diagonally.'"
Fred let out a low whistle. "Oof. That's not ideal."
George tilted his head, his voice serious. "So, he's probably not here, then. Unless he had a very lucky landing."
Mrs. Weasley shot George a sharp look. "This isn't funny, George! He could be anywhere!"
Mr. Weasley gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "He'll have only gone a grate or two off course, Molly. We'll find him."
She exhaled sharply, then turned back to the group. "Come on, all of you, start looking!"
Without another word, they all began scanning the busy street for any sign of Harry. Hope hurried along, trying her best to keep up with everyone. Her legs were shorter, and it was frustrating trying to keep pace. Why did they all move so fast?
Before she could fall too far behind, she felt a hand slip into hers. It was warm, steady.
She blinked in surprise and looked up. George.
He didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her. His fingers just closed around hers, and he tugged her along, making sure she wouldn't be left behind. Hope could feel the warmth of his hand, and for some reason, her heart gave a strange little flip.
She huffed, trying to push the heat creeping into her cheeks down. "You've got longer legs than me," she muttered, annoyed with herself for feeling so weird about it.
George smirked but didn't let go. He just kept walking, pulling her along with him.
Hope focused on walking, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. This wasn't anything. It was just George. He was always messing around, always pulling people into things. Holding her hand wasn't a big deal.
But why did it feel like such a big deal?
She curled her fingers slightly around his, just to see how it felt. His hand was bigger than hers, but not too much bigger. He didn't pull away—not right away, at least.
"Look, there he is," Ron said, pointing towards Gringotts where Harry stood at the stairs with Hermione and Hagrid.
They sprinted toward the three of them.
"Harry!" Mr. Weasley panted, catching his breath. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far..." He wiped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic—she's coming now."
"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.
"Knockturn Alley," Hagrid answered grimly.
"Brilliant!" Fred and George said together.
"What was it like?" Hope asked, curiosity creeping into her voice.
Ron nodded, his own interest piqued. "We've never been allowed in," he said enviously.
"I should ruddy well think not," Hagrid growled.
At that moment, Mrs. Weasley came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny clinging to the other. "Oh, Harry—oh, my dear—you could have been anywhere!" Gasping for breath, she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away.
Mr. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.
"Well, gotta be off," Hagrid said, as Mrs. Weasley wrung his hand in relief.
"Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.
"See yer at Hogwarts!" Hagrid called over his shoulder, his large frame easily towering above the rest as he strode away.
"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked as they climbed the steps to Gringotts, looking at Ron, Hope, and Hermione. "Malfoy and his father."
"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" Mr. Weasley asked sharply from behind them.
"No, he was selling," Harry answered.
"So he's worried," Mr. Weasley said, a grim satisfaction in his voice. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."
"You be careful, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said sharply as they were ushered into the bank by a bowing goblin. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew."
"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley said indignantly, though he was distracted almost immediately by the sight of Hermione's parents standing nervously at the counter along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.
"But you're Muggles!" Mr. Weasley said delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money! Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.
"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione, as the Weasleys, Hope, and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.
The vaults were reached by small, goblin-driven carts that sped through the underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the wild ride down to the Weasleys' vault but felt even worse when it was opened. There was barely a pile of silver Sickles and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley swept it all into her bag without hesitation, not even checking if there was more.
Hope felt a pang of discomfort as they passed her vault. She was relieved they didn't have to stop there; luckily, her dad had already given Mrs. Weasley the money for her school supplies. Their vault had even less than the Weasleys, especially with her father struggling to find proper work due to his condition.
Harry felt worse still when they reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view, hastily stuffing handfuls of coins into a leather bag.
Back outside on the marble steps, the group began to separate. Percy muttered something vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend Lee Jordan from Hogwarts, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were headed toward a second-hand robe shop. Mr. Weasley insisted on taking the Grangers to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books," Mrs. Weasley called, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted after the twins.
Harry, Ron, Hope, and Hermione strolled off down the winding, cobbled street. Harry's bag of gold, silver, and bronze coins jingled happily in his pocket, begging to be spent. He bought four large strawberry and peanut-butter ice creams, which they ate happily as they wandered, examining the shop windows.
Ron gazed longingly at a set of Chudley Cannon robes in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on 'Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks.' In a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, wonky brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains, they found Percy, deep into a small, boring book titled Prefects Who Gained Power.
"A study of Hogwarts Prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud from the back cover. "That sounds fascinating..."
"Go away," Percy snapped without looking up.
"Course, he's very ambitious, Percy," Ron murmured to the others as they walked away. "He's got it all planned out... he wants to be Minister of Magic..."
An hour later, they made their way to Flourish and Blotts, only to find they weren't the only ones heading in that direction. As they got closer, they were surprised to see a large crowd gathered outside, all pushing to get in. The reason for this was made clear by a large banner hanging across the upper windows:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 – 4:30 pm
"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed, her arm linked with Hope's. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"
"Don't tell me you're a fan of his, Mione," Hope said, raising an eyebrow at her in surprise.
"I just admire him," Hermione replied with a smile. "You know, one bright mind to another."
The crowd seemed to mostly consist of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harried-looking wizard stood at the door, attempting to maintain some order. "Calmly, please, ladies... don't push... mind the books now..."
The four of them squeezed inside. A long line wound all the way to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing books. They grabbed copies of Break with a Banshee and made their way to the back of the line, where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
"Oh, there you are, good," Mrs. Weasley said breathlessly, patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."
And then, he appeared—Gilderoy Lockhart himself. He was seated at a table surrounded by giant pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzling white teeth at the crowd. Lockhart wore robes of forget-me-not blue, which matched his eyes perfectly, and his pointed wizard's hat was perched at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.
A short, irritable-looking man was darting around, snapping pictures with a large black camera that puffed purple smoke with every blinding flash.
"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, stepping back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet."
"Watch it," Hope muttered, shoving the photographer slightly as he stepped on Ron's foot.
"Big deal," Ron grumbled, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.
Lockhart noticed the commotion. His gaze fell on Ron, and then, on Harry. His eyes widened, and he practically leapt out of his chair. "It can't be Harry Potter?"
The crowd parted, whispers buzzing around. Lockhart dove forward, grabbed Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd erupted into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart enthusiastically shook his hand for the photographer, who was snapping away, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.
"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart said, flashing his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."
When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. Trying to escape the spotlight, he began to move back toward the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in tight.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Lockhart called loudly, silencing the room with a wave of his hand. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect time for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!"
He paused dramatically before continuing. "When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—" the crowd applauded, "—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—" more applause, "—he had no idea," Lockhart added with a little shake that made Harry's glasses slip down his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
"Ugh, this is worse than Quirrell, and he worked for You-Know-Who," Ron muttered, earning irritated nods from Fred and George.
"Honestly, could it get any worse?" George added.
"It could be Snape," Hope chimed in with a small frown.
The crowd cheered, and Harry found himself practically buried in the entire collection of Gilderoy Lockhart's books. Staggering under their weight, he made his way out of the limelight and over to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.
"You can have these," Harry muttered to Ginny, tipping the books into her cauldron. "I'll buy my own—"
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry knew all too well. He straightened up to find Draco Malfoy standing in front of him, sneering as usual.
"Famous Harry Potter," Malfoy drawled. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ginny said, her voice sharp as she glared at Malfoy.
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy teased, causing Ginny to go scarlet.
Ron, Hope, and Hermione, all clutching stacks of Lockhart's books, fought their way over to the group.
"Oh, it's you," Ron said, eyeing Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, huh?"
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," Malfoy retorted. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot."
Ron went as red as Ginny and dropped his books into Ginny's cauldron. He started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione quickly grabbed the back of his jacket, while Hope stepped back, arms crossed, glaring at Malfoy. She was perfectly content to let Ron give him another black eye.
"Ron!" Mr. Weasley called, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well—Arthur Weasley," came the sneering voice of Mr. Malfoy, who stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, his expression identical to his son's.
"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said coldly, nodding.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy continued. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"
He reached into Ginny's cauldron, extracting, from among the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
"Obviously not," he said with a smirk. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
Mr. Weasley's face turned darker than either Ron or Ginny's had. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said through gritted teeth.
"Clearly," Mr. Malfoy said, his cold eyes flicking to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching with unease. "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower..."
There was a sudden thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron flew through the air. Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him back into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks crashed down on all their heads. A yell rang out from Fred or George, "Get him, Dad!" and from Hope, "Go, Mr. Weasley!" though Hermione shot her a disapproving look. Mrs. Weasley screamed, "No, Arthur, no!"
The crowd scrambled backward, knocking over more shelves. The assistant cried, "Gentlemen, please—please!" and then, louder than all, shouted, "Break it up, there, gents, break it up—"
Hagrid waded through the chaos, his large frame cutting a path through the sea of books. In an instant, he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip, while Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He still clutched Ginny's old Transfiguration book and shoved it toward her with a sneer, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Here, girl—take your book—it's the best your father can give you."
Pulling himself from Hagrid's grip, he beckoned to Draco, and they swept out of the shop.
"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," Hagrid muttered, practically lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten to the core, the whole family. Everyone knows that. No Malfoy's worth listenin' to. Bad blood, that's what it is. Come on now—let's get outta here."
The assistant looked as though he might stop them from leaving but hesitated. He barely came up to Hagrid's waist and wisely decided against it. The group hurried up the street, the Grangers visibly shaken and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.
"A fine example to set to your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought..."
Fred shook his head, "He was pleased. Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he could work the fight into his report—said it was all publicity."
But despite Fred's remark, the group was subdued as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron's fireside. Harry, Hope, and the Weasleys, along with all their shopping, would be traveling back to The Burrow using Floo powder. They bid the Grangers goodbye as they headed out of the pub for the Muggle street on the other side. Mr. Weasley began to ask how bus stops worked but quickly stopped at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.