A Slip of fate
Harry stood awkwardly beside the Weasleys in Flourish and Blotts, the overwhelming chatter and activity around him a stark contrast to the quiet stillness he preferred. Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, gathering books for her children, while Ron and Ginny talked excitedly about the coming school year.
Harry, however, remained detached, his pale, calculating gaze scanning the crowded shop. He wasn’t fond of the noise or the press of people, but he endured it silently, his mind already drifting to the quieter, darker halls of Hogwarts.
“Come on, Harry!” Ron waved him over to the shelves. “Lockhart’s signing books today. Bet Hermione’s already up there.”
Harry didn’t share Ron’s enthusiasm but followed anyway, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. Sure enough, Hermione was near the front of the line, holding a copy of Magical Me and chatting animatedly with a grinning Gilderoy Lockhart.
“I see Lockhart’s got another admirer,” Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.
Harry smirked faintly but said nothing. As they waited, a commotion near the entrance drew their attention. Lucius Malfoy had just entered the shop, his cane tapping against the wooden floor as he sneered at the gathered crowd.
“Arthur Weasley,” Lucius drawled, his voice sharp and condescending. “Still mingling with the rabble, I see.”
“Lucius,” Arthur replied evenly, stepping forward. His tone was calm, but Harry could see the tension in his posture. “What brings you here? Another donation to knockturn vendors, perhaps?”
The insult hit its mark, and Lucius’s pale eyes narrowed. “Careful, Weasley,” he said coldly. “One wouldn’t want to make unfounded accusations.”
Their exchange escalated quickly, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. Books and cauldrons were jostled as the two men squared off, Arthur’s indignation clashing against Lucius’s aristocratic disdain.
Harry observed silently, his sharp gaze following every movement. He noticed when Lucius’s hand dipped into his cloak, pulling free a worn, black book. The older man’s expression didn’t waver as he pretended to discreetly drop the book in Ginny’s cauldron, slipping the diary into Harry’s by mistake.
It happened so quickly, so seamlessly, that even Harry might not have noticed—if he hadn’t been watching.
Lucius’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he stepped back, clearly satisfied with himself. Harry’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, tucking the incident away in his mind for later consideration.
“Let’s go, kids,” Mrs. Weasley said, herding them toward the counter. “We’ve got everything we need.”
Harry followed without protest, his expression as calm and detached as ever. But as he picked up his cauldron, he felt the weight of the diary within it and knew that this year at Hogwarts was going to be very different.