the moon seems brighter
He lifts his eyes, glancing at the house elf next to him. He’s been standing wide eyed at the wall in front of him and for a moment, Harry wonders if Malfoy lent him a faulty guide just to make fun of him.
He pulls the hood of his cloak down, sinking back into the alley when a few drunk wizards stumble by, their voices slurring out complaints and angry remarks.
“He thinks they can scare us,” the taller man mutters bitterly, leaning heavily on his companion. “Getting that promotion at work just because he had some…some sort of connection with what’s-his-name-“
His friend hushes him, looking around sharply. “Don’t say the name,” he hisses, struggling to hold him upright. “If the Nott’s catch wind of this…”
”Those bloody you-know-who sympathizers think they’ve got it all,” the man continues to grumble loudly, clumsily kicking a rock in anger. “Got an inflated ego just because they spent a few galleons but everyone knows what they really are. Cowards, the lot of them-“
His friend slams his hand on his mouth, effectively shutting him up.
Harry raises an eyebrow, watching as he drags him away quickly, his lips quirking up into an amused smile.
I should let Nott know his shiny new title is garnering him enemies, he muses, leaning back against the cold lamppost. But then again, it’s far more amusing to watch from the sidelines and see how it all plays out.
Besides, he casts a dismissive glance over his shoulder at where the pair stagger around the corner and disappear down the street,. It’s not like they can do anything worth being scared of.
”M-master Potter sir,” the house elf pipes up, cowering slightly when he turns his gaze to him. “Dobby has found the entrance!”
Harry straightens at that, a spark of curiosity curling up in his chest as he stares at the wall in concentration. He focuses, studying it intently before letting out a breath when he doesn’t find anything obvious out of place. “Go on, then. Open it.”
The house elf stares up at him fearfully, looking at him as if he suddenly grew two heads. Harry hates it. “Dobby does not know how to, sir. Dobby will have to punish himself for not being helpful enough by slamming his ears in th-.”
“Stop it,” he snaps out, cutting him off. He feels a headache throbbing behind his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temple as he tries to control his impatience. “Just…show me what you found.”
Dobby nobs, still cowering as he points a shaky finger at a narrow crack in the wall. Harry follows the line of sight, brows knitting together when his eyes land on the patch of overgrown ivy that hides it. There’s a tingling sensation that causes the hair on the back of his neck to stand up straight and he coughs, brushing off Dobby’s worried look.
Of course he can’t show me the way, Harry thinks morosely, berating himself for not thinking of it sooner. He pulls out his wand, robes shuffling as he walks closer to the wall. They’ve set up wards so only wizards can enter. How…paranoid.
“Do you know how to get in, then?” He asks instead, focusing his attention in front of him. He’s grateful for the cover the darkness provides, the only light coming from the full moon overhead.
“Dobby doesn’t know sir,” the house elf squeaks out, looking on the verge of tears. He’s pulling on his ears hard enough that Harry frowns, stomach queasy. “Master Malfoy said you could figure it out. Mister Potter sir, please forgive Dobby’s mistake!”
“So childish,” Harry murmurs, barely holding back from rolling his eyes. “Does he think I won’t figure out something as simple as an entrance code to some stupid shop?”
He stares at the wall, tilting his head in concentration. “It’s either three or seven,” he ponders thoughtfully, mind racing back to when he took divination. Nothing happens on the first two taps, and he pauses before knocking a third time. A hollow sound reverberates under his knuckles and a narrow gap appears, the walls opening in the middle to reveal a dark passageway.
Dobby makes a sound of surprise and he glances down, jaw twitching. “Stay quiet,” he whispers, before stepping into the narrow passageway. “And stand guard.”
The house elf nods eagerly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to comply.
Harry lets out a quiet laugh, watching the walls meld back into place. He stays still, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness before walking forward.
It doesn’t take long until he’s finally outside again, and he squints, the light of the moon bringing an ethereal glow to the forest. He looks around, trying to locate the wooden cottage that Nott had raved about when he’d fallen drunk.
”And who might you be, coming around uninvited?” A voice drawls out from behind him and he turns, hands jumping to his waist where his wand is strapped. The young man looks at him in amusement. “A wonderful way to greet someone, isn’t it?”
Harry coughs, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers as he lowers his wand. He’s on high alert, trying to scout out the other.
“What?” The boy asks, arms full of various herbs and plants that Neville would be better equipped at recognizing. His ears are flushed red and Harry can’t help but stare, gaze drawn to the scar that peeks out just above his collarbone.
“Sorry,” he says after a while, looking away. “I heard from…Theodore that there was someone here who could repair my robes.”
The awkwardness at saying Nott’s name goes unnoticed and soon the redhead barks out a laugh. Harry can see the tension in his shoulders easing away at those words as he walks ahead and he sighs in relief.
When he doesn’t hear footsteps, he pauses, glancing back in confusion. “You’re looking for a tailor, aren’t you? Well, me and my Aunt Muriel are the best tailors you’ll see, unless you want the Acromantula to repair those clothes for you.”
He pales a little at the mention of the spiders. “Horrible little things, honestly. Would’ve preferred not to live so close to them, but Aunt Muriel insisted that this was the only, er…” he trails off, coughing awkwardly. “Well, anyways, Aunt Muriel’s the best at what she does when she’s not nagging about everything. I haven’t done anything as grand as her, just a few simple alterations here and there.”
Harry nods, already storing the information away in his head as he analyzes the boy in front of him. “So,” he asks curiously. “Your aunt runs the shop?”
“Yeah, but she’s gone to take care of some business up north, so I’m taking over for now. Not like I had any choice,” the last part is said quietly, and Harry strains his ears to catch it. “I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Prewett.”
“…Harry. Harry Evans.”
The moon seems especially beautiful tonight.