Diagon Alley Once More.
The streets of Diagon Alley were as bustling as ever, filled with the hum of excited chatter and the clinking of coins exchanging hands. The scent of parchment, cauldron smoke, and fresh pastries swirled through the air, a familiar chaos that made it impossible to stand still for too long.
Harry stuck close to the Weasleys, feeling oddly grateful for their presence. Mrs. Weasley was busy herding her children toward the bookshop, and Harry trailed behind, listening to Ron complain about their book list.
“Why do we need so many books this year? I swear Lockhart’s just showing off,” Ron groaned, staring at the long list in his hands.
Fred, who was carrying an armful of joke products he’d snuck in from Zonko's, smirked. “He definitely loves himself more than we do, that’s for sure.”
They reached Flourish and Blotts, where a large crowd had gathered inside. A grand display of shimmering books lined the front, all boasting the same grinning blonde wizard on the cover.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
“Oh, brilliant,” Ron muttered. “He’s here.”
Before Harry could react, Mrs. Weasley let out an excited gasp. “Oh, how wonderful! He’s doing a book signing today—let’s get your books, and maybe we can meet him!”
Harry sighed but didn’t argue as they shuffled inside. The bookshop was packed, witches and wizards pressing forward eagerly. At the center of it all, standing on a raised platform, was Lockhart himself, dazzling smile in place as he waved at the crowd.
Harry barely had time to blink before Lockhart’s sharp eyes landed on him.
“Ah! Harry Potter!”
The crowd gasped, parting as Lockhart dramatically reached for him. In an instant, he was being pulled forward, his shoulders clapped by Lockhart’s enthusiastic grip.
“Such an honor to see you here, dear boy!” Lockhart boomed. “And what luck—on the very day of my book signing! Fate truly works in mysterious ways.”
Harry bit back a sigh. “Yeah. Lucky.”
Cameras flashed as Lockhart grinned, shoving a stack of his books into Harry’s arms. “Here you are, young man! No need to thank me—just knowing my words of wisdom will guide you is enough!”
Ron snickered from the sidelines, and Harry gave him a tired look as he shuffled back into the crowd. The only upside to this entire ordeal was that he didn’t have to pay for his books.
As they made their way out, however, the mood shifted.
A cold hush fell over the shop as a tall figure stepped inside, draped in black robes, a sneer already in place.
Lucius Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy trailed behind him, looking as smug as ever. His eyes flickered to Ron and the Weasleys’ secondhand books, lips curling in distaste.
“Well, well,” Lucius murmured, voice smooth as silk. “Arthur. Always a pleasure.”
Mr. Weasley stiffened, but before he could respond, Lucius’s gaze swept over to Harry. His sharp eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if assessing something unseen.
For a brief moment, Harry felt a prickle of unease—something in the way Lucius was looking at him made his skin crawl.
But then the moment passed, and Lucius turned away with a cool smirk.
“Come, Draco. We have better places to be.”
With that, the Malfoys disappeared back into the streets.
Harry let out a slow breath, gripping his books a little tighter.
Something told him this year was going to be just as strange as the last.