Harry Potter and the Secrets of Slytherin

Things at the Burrow were anything but Dursley-normal. The Dursleys only liked things nice and neat and sparkling, but the Burrow was unpredictable and wild. Even explosions from Fred and George's room were normal. The ghoul in the attic was certainly optimistic, the voices said, hitting pipes whenever he felt it was too quiet, or appearing in your reflection when you least expected it. But what Harry found unusual was not the explosions, how his reflection would shout at him(for it was obviously the ghoul), or how he would walk past Mrs Weasley scolding the ghoul if it scared a scream out of someone, no, what he found unusual was how it seemed everyone liked him. Hermione and Ron weren't really included, for they were two of his friends, and Hermione had always been quite clingy. But the rest of the Weasleys, he couldn't say the same for.

Mrs Weasley doted on him like he was another of her sons, insisting he try to eat another helping whenever she noticed he had gotten less than what she found to be a normal helping, and told him he wouldn't have to worry about a thing, while Mr Weasley had always told Harry and Hermione to sit near him at the head of the table, having them tell him about all types of Muggle inventions. Percy tried to stay out of his way, which Harry believed to be nice, and Fred and George were constantly catching him, asking his opinion on their newest prank. Ginny always tended to get very flustered and ran away whenever he got near.

Despite the confusion, the overall situation was quite pleasing, Harry found. The Weasleys were as unDursleyish as could be. He'd never seen anyone hit eachother unless it was for real, actual fun, no one shot down any questions, and everyone did chores. They were the most wonderful family ever.

It had been a sunny morning at the Burrow-- about a week after he and Hermione had arrived-- when they heard from Hogwarts. Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table when Harry, Ron, and Hermione came down. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl and emerged with her face as red as a fresh tomato. Pretending he hadn't noticed, Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs Weasley offered him.

"Letters from school," said Mr Weasley, passing Harry, Hermione, and Ron identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you two are here-- doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he added, as Fred and George ambled in, still in their pyjamas.

For a few minutes there was silence as they all read their letters. Harry's told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first, and there was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year:

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

Fred, who had finished reading over his own list, peered over at Harry's.

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he gasped. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan-- bet it's a witch. No way anyone's gonna promote his stupid books that much."

"He can't be all that," Harry said, shrugging. Fred started to speak again, but he caught his mother's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade before George could elbow him again.

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs Weasley, but she looked worried-- the fact her ears had fallen didn't help either. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair with twitching ears and put her elbow in the butter dish. Hermione had snorted at it, just as Ron's elder brother Percy the Prefect walked in. He was already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

"Morning, all," said Percy formally. "Lovely day."

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster-- at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under his wing. "Finally-- he's got Lisa's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try to collect you 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 Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Lisa's letter and read it out loud:

"'Dear Ron, and Hermione and Harry if you're there,

"'I hope everything went all right and that Harry and Hermione are okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get them out Ron, because that would get them into trouble too and I don't want any of my friends in trouble with the Ministry or anything, even if it would be funny. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know? Just letting you know, it would be probably better if you used a different owl, because I think even handing your owl a letter might finish him off.

"We(me and my parents) are going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books (the booklist is all Lockhart, it's not just mine, right?). Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? I've been sending letters with Padma, she and Luna willl be there Wednesday too. Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Lots of love, Lisa.'"

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George were planning 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 that 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 had escaped and flown away over the village; Instead they threw apples for one another to catch. Hermione didn't have her own broom, nor did she like to fly, but she borrowed one of the Weasleys'. She flew incredibly shakily and had to hop down every few minutes for her own queasiness. The Weasleys 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.

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 had said he was busy. Harry had only seen Percy at mealtimes or in passing so far; He stayed shut up in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish we knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you arrived; Twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all. Bit worried for 'im, honestly."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry and Hermione's puzzled looks. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame if one of us don't get picked."

Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harry had never met either of them, but knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all of our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything...."

"If they're that expensive, I don't know how my parents will be able to afford them either," Hermione said worriedly. "I've sent a letter asking them to enter Diagon Alley the same day we were planning, but I can only hope they'll bring enough money."

"If anyone gets too low on money, I could help out." Harry said quietly. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him. Of course, it was only in the wizarding world that he had money; You couldn't use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in Muggle shops. He had never mentioned his Gringotts bank account to the Dursleys; He didn't think their horror of anything connected with magic would stretch to a large pile of gold, and he'd rather not have his parents' money be drained out. He didn't mind, however, paying for any of his friends.

Mrs Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and 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, Hermione, dears!"

And she offered Harry the flowerpot. Harry saw at them all watching him. "W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.

"They've never traveled by Floo Powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, Hermione, I forgot."

"Never?" said Mr Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"I went on the Underground--"

"Really?" said Mr Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly--"

"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dears, but goodness me, if you've never used it before--"

"They'll be all right, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, Hermi-nee-nee, watch us first."

"My name isn't said... oh, nevermind." Hermione sighed.

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of 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 be sure you get out at the right grate...."

"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.

"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to end up in, you know, and people hardly ever close them unless they've got something to hide. But as long as you've spoken clearly, you'll be just fine... maybe you should go with--"

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr Weasley, helping himself to floo powder, too.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?"

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, and they wouldn't miss me."

"Well... alright... you go after Arthur," said Mrs Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going--"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.

"And your eyes shut," said Mrs Weasley. "The soot--"

"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might fall out too early and out the wrong fireplace--"

"But don't panic and get out too early; Wait until you see Fred and George and Arthur."

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of floo powder and walked 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 lot of ash.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed.

It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast-- the roaring and ringing in his ears was deafening-- he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flamed made him feel sick-- something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning-- now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face-- squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond. The bacon sandwiches were bubbling up at the back of his throat, but he forced them down and closed his eyes again wishing it would stop-- and then--

He fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of his glasses snap, the lenses cracking.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet, holding his completely broken glasses up to his eyes. He was quite alone, but where was he, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop-- but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list. He'd already messed up.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley. It looked more like the extension of a dark alleyway.

The sooner he got out of here, the better. His nose was still stinging where he had hit the hearth, and his head was still spinning. Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd gotten halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass.

And one of them was Draco Malfoy.

Though one of his best friends, the last person that Harry wanted to see. He was still bruised from the Dursleys, he was skinny as ever, and if even possible, shorter than their previous year at Hogwarts. Hermione had barely let him get five feet away from her, who knows what Draco- one of the most dramatic people Harry had ever met in his life- might do. And he might've not sent back a response to his letters, but it wasn't like he could.

Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; He squeezed inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Draco stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the a pale, pointed face that looked almost the same, and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Draco retracted the hand he had reached for the glass eye, and said, "I thought you said you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a new racing broom," said his father boredly, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"Yes, a present," said Draco, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Just because Potter and I got Nimbus Two Thousands last year doesn't mean I couldn't do without a better broom. We both got special permission from Dumbledore, but you know, he's not even that good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead...." He lied. Well, Harry hoped that he was lying, atleast.

Draco bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls. "...everyone thinks he's so smart and just a genius, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick--"

"Potter's a wonderful, brilliant genius who you cannot stand, yes, again. You have told me this at least twice a dozen times already, you can tell it to Cassiopeia for all I care," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that it is not... prudent to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear-- ah, Mr Borgin."

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted-- and young Master Malfoy, too-- charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced--"

"I'm not buying today, Mr Borgin, but selling," said Mr Malfoy.

"Selling?" the smile faded slightly from Mr Borgin's face.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr Borgin to read. "I have a few, ah... items at home that might embarrass me and my wife, if the Ministry were to call...."

Mr Borgin fixed a pair of prince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you or Mrs Malfoy, sir, surely?"

Mr Malfoy's lip curled.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever the more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act-- no doubt that Arthur Weasley is behind it-"

Harry had stopped paying full attention by now, or, up until Draco asked, "Can I have that?", pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr Borgin, abandoning Mr Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr Malfoy, and Mr Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant--"

"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr Malfoy, more coldly, "that may indeed be all he is fit for--"

"Father, please, with this again! I've told you, that's not my fault. The teachers have their favourites, and Snape can only do so much for me--"

"I do not mean your potions grades, Draco. Not only does he get beaten by a girl with no known wizard family in academics and surrounded by filthy Muggles, but also that Potter," Mr Malfoy said, almost sounding like he was taunting his son. "Whom Draco just cannot stand, or so I've heard..."

"It's the same all over," said Mr Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere--"

"Not with me," said Mr Malfoy, clearly.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr Borgin, with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today--"

They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals that said, 'Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed : Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date'.

Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward-- he stretched out his hand for the handle--

"Done," said Mr Malfoy at the counter. "Come along now, Draco, I'll get you your stupid broom now. I'm sure your mother and sister are getting impatient."

At that, Draco turned away, taking one last look at the cabinet. Harry hoped desperately that his eyes hadn't been seen.

"Good day to you, Mr Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."

The moment the door had closed, Mr Borgin dropped his oily manner.

"Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy... and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor...." muttering darkly, Mr Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute incase he came back, then, quietly as he could, slipped out of the cabinet, and out of the shop door.

Clutching his broken glasses to his face to see as much as he could, Harry stared around. He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching him from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling creeped out, Harry set off, trying to hold his glasses on straight and hoping against hope he'd be able to find a way out of here.

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him he was in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help; Harry had never heard of such a place. He supposed he hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the Weasleys' fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what to do.

"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making him jump. An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked like entire human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry nearly gagged at the sight of them.

"I'm fine, thanks," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm just a little turned around, not lost--"

"HARRY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"

Harry jumped again, and so did the witch; A load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.

"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief. "I came out the wrong grate-- it was Floo powder, I mean-" Before he could speak, Hagrid picked him up by the hood of his cloak and pulled him away from the witch, knocking the tray out of her hands. She shrieked, chasing after them through the darkness all the way until the sky turned bright. Hagrid had dragged him all the way into Diagon Alley.

"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid, brushing soot out of Harry's hair. "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley! That's a real dodgy place, Harry, yeh don' want no one ter see yeh down there--"

"I can tell that much, Hagrid! Knockturn Alley isn't where I was trying to go!" said Harry, barely ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione screamed from a few shops down. She had been knocking over children and even pushing adults out of the way to get to him. "What happened to your glasses?! Oh, Harry, this is the exact reason I worry about you, before you give me that spiel again!" She said, shaking his shoulders, not caring if people were staring sideways at her. The Weasleys had come running down the street a moment later.

"Harry!" Wheezed Mr Weasley. "We'd only hoped you'd gone one grate too far. Molly's gone absolutely manic, she'll be over soon," He added, gratefully.

"Where'd you end up at?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley."

"Excellent!" The twins said together.

"Is not! What if he got hurt or if Hagrid didn't find him? Or what if he got even more hurt?" Hermione said.

"Wow, Hermione, you really do baby Harry! I just thought Padma was lying!" A voice said from behind them.

Harry turned around-- Lisa had been standing proudly with a large grin. Her hair had been pulled back into a very long ponytail, which he was surprised she managed.

"Lisa! Please don't run off like that, sweetie," A woman said, coming to stand beside Lisa and gave her a sort of disapproving look. She must've been her mother, but Harry wouldn't have guessed-- they looked nothing alike. Whereas Lisa was blonde, her mother's hair was brown and her eyes were dark, quite unlike Lisa's purple ones that seemed to glow.

"Hi! It's so nice to see you again!" Lisa said suddenly, pulling Harry, Hermione, and Ron into individual hugs. "Good grief, Harry, what happened to your face? And your glasses?"

"Long story," said Hermione at once. "But I'd say he needs new glasses at this point." 

Mr Weasley stepped forward and wordlessly tapped Harry's glasses; They were fixed in an instant, good as new, and his face went red with embarrassment. His ears felt weird and were burning to their tips.

Mrs Weasley came sprinting down the road, her handbag flying in the air, and Ginny holding on to her other hand. "Oh, Harry dear, you're alright!" She said relievedly. She took a rag out her purse and begun wiping Harry's face free of soot and ash. Hagrid had already walked off, bidding them a goodbye. His head was still visible, for he had been the tallest person for atleast a few miles.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry said, as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Draco and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" asked Mr Weasley sharply behind them.

"No, he was selling--"

"So he's worried," said Mr Weasley with a grim smile. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."

"You'd better not, Arthur," said Mrs Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trouble, and they're worth more to the Ministry than they look. Don't go biting off more than you can chew unless--"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr Weasley indignantly, but he was distracted at once by the sight of Lisa's father and Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione and Lisa to introduce them.

"Oh wow! You're Muggles!" said Mr Weasley delightedly, not continuing to speak about Mr Malfoy. "We must have a drink soon! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money! Molly, look!" he pointed excitedly at the pound notes in Mr Turpin and Mr Granger's hand.

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione and Lisa, as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their vaults by another Gringotts Goblin.

The vaults were reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that sped along miniature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry enjoyed the journey down to the Weasleys' vault, but felt horrible when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside, and just a single gold-Galleon in a lonely corner. Mrs Weasley fell right into the corner before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry felt even worse when they reached his vault. He insisted they stay in the cart as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather coin pouch.

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan, and ran off at once. Mrs Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers and Turpins off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. Padma had been looking around outside, seemingly for them.

"Padma!" Lisa cheered, hopping on her back, making them both fall to the ground.

"Hi, Lisa! Where's Harry?" Padma asked, sitting up straight and hugging Lisa.

"Hi Padma," Harry said, walking down the steps. Padma pulled him into the hug too.

"Padma, what are you doing on the ground?" Parvati, Padma's twin sister, asked. "Get up, won't you? That's unsanitary. Who knows what's already gotten on you."

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," Mrs Weasley said before Padma could answer, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.

"I'll be with Lavender at Madam Malkin's if you need me, Padma," Parvati said, after fixing with her sister's robes. Padma scoffed, ears twitching, and shrugged her off, nodding. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lisa, and Padma strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of coins on Harry's hip were just far too tempting, so he bought five large chocolate-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which they licked happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robed in the windows 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, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power.

"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating...." He lied.

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out.... He wants to be Minister of Magic..." Ron told the rest in an undertone as they left Percy to it.

"After you lettered me back, Liz, I sent Luna an owl," said Padma, staring down the street at something Harry couldn't see. "Said she couldn't make it. Was somewhere with her dad, searching for some creature or something, and it was taking a bit longer than they thought it would. I'm sure it doesn't exist, really. She thinks it's- er- wonderful, but I wonder what influence he has on her. I met both her and her parents, when we were younger-- she wasn't nearly like she is now, mind. Her mother kept her mind straight, but now she's gone, and Luna's only got her lunatic father left. She won't listen to reason, half the time." 

"I'm sure he's not a lunatic," said Lisa hopefully. 

"If she was better than she is now, I think he's mental," said Ron lowly. "I mean, I think Luna's great-- but she's kind of like you, Harry. Like something happened to her and she doesn't know what to do about it. No offence to either of you, really-- it's just--"

"You're both a bit weird, sometimes," said Hermione blankly, and Ron, Lisa, and Padma all gaped at her. "What? I didn't mean it in a bad way! Harry's-- er- a bit weird! Honestly!" 

"Thanks for being honest," Harry shrugged. "I guess?"

"Honest, but that doesn't mean she should say it!" Padma said.

"Well, I was, but I didn't mean it like that, like I said! I just meant-- well, er-- I just meant--"

"We were supposed to meet your parents here, weren't we, Ron?" Harry asked, pointing at the window of Flourish and Blotts. The voices said it would be the best distraction-- there was a crowd of people all trying to get in, and there was a large banner over the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART
Will be signing copies of his autobiography
'MAGICAL ME'
Today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

"Oh no," said Ron unconvincingly. "I- er- don't see them. They must be somewhere else... or, er, might've changed their minds..."

"Oh, let's go in, anyway. We have to get our course books... anyway," said Hermione. Her ears were twitching and her cheeks were very red. Padma agreed with her immediately.

"Yeah, yeah, we do need to get our books," she said. "and what's the harm in getting them signed?"

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly by witches around Mrs Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies... don't push, there-- mind the books, now..."

The five of them squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, and snuck up the line to where, fortunately, the rest of the Weasleys were standing with the Grangers and Mrs Turpin. Mr and Mrs Patil weren't too far behind.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair and tapping the ends of her ears. "We'll be able to see him in a minute..." She said.

"Your father's gone looking for more books to add to his personal library, do tell me if you see him anywhere, sweetie. I'm a little concerned that he may get lost..." Mrs Turpin told Lisa, looking around. Lisa nodded and grinned, though she looked like she wasn't really listening.

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of an odd forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes, and his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," The little man snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet--"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it. Harry got the sudden urge to push the man over-- see what'd happen to his camera, maybe, see what he'd do-- but he had enough self-control not to, as he listened to Ron talk. "What's so great about Lockhart anyway? All he is is some dumb guy." 

Gilderoy Lockhart had heard them. He looked up. He saw Ron, Hermione, Lisa, Padma-- and then he saw short little Harry up in front. Lockhart stared. Then he leapt to his feet and shouted, "It can't be! Harley Potter?"

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's ears burned so badly it nearly would've hurt, as Lockhart shook his hand dramatically for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys, Grangers, and Mrs Turpin.

"Nice big smile, Harley," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

"I- er- s-sir--," Harry stammered, as the flashes of the camera blinded him. He could barely keep his eyes open, and even when they weren't, he could still see the flashes. 

When Lockhart finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers and he had to blink multiple times to see right again. He tried to get back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harley here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography-- which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge--" The crowd applauded again. "He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that almost made his glasses fall off 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 Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart, aswell even more cameras flashing. Staggering slightly under their weight and unable to see from the cameras, his friends had to help him to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room before they could go get their own books, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

"You can have these," Harry said dizzily, tipping the books into the cauldron. "I'll buy my own. It'll save your parents some money."

"Wonder, how much will he get paid for that one picture? Wonder how much more famous you'll get," said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing. He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Draco, who was walking towards them.

"Famous little Harry Potter--" he said jokingly. Or, Harry hoped that's what the tone was. He couldn't quite tell. But atleast he didn't say Harley, he figured. "-- can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny. It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry. She was glaring at Draco.

"Oh, got a girlfriend, have you, Potter?" said Draco, and Ginny's face went scarlet, ears going higher than Harry had ever seen. Ron, Lisa, Hermione, and Padma fought their way back over, clutching their own stacks of Lockhart's books.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Draco as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not exactly, since school's starting soon and all," retorted Draco. "Unless you've forgotten the day, Weasley? Suppose your family couldn't afford a calendar-- you haven't got any walls to hang it up on, anyway. Surprised to see you here, actually-- how many decades will it take for you to pay off even being here?"

Ron went as red as Ginny, but unlike her, his ears nearly pressed themselves flat to his head. He dropped his books into the cauldron too, and started towards Draco, muttering, "I'll show you surprised," but Hermione and Lisa grabbed the back of his hood and pulled him back. 

"You better not," said Hermione warningly, and she slapped his shoulder. "Just imagine the trouble you'd get in! Don't rise to him!"

"Your hair looks stupid," Lisa said sharply to Draco, pointing at his head. "Why's it all slicked back like that? You look like you're old already, and your hairline's receeding." 

"And I suppose that's your father stuck in a dust stack over there, Turpin," Draco pointed behind them (though Harry didn't miss how his face had gone pink) and true to his word, not too far away, Mrs Turpin had been trying to pry Mr Turpin from a stack of books that left a cloud of dust surrounding them.

Lisa went very pink, running over to help her mother. When she'd gone, Ron turned back around and started walking towards Draco again, but Hermione caught him- again.

"Ron!" said Mr Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well-- Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering.

"Lucius," said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.

"My wife's told me it's a busy time at the Ministry," said Mr Malfoy. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," Mr Malfoy said, looking amused. "Dear me, what's the use of working in the Ministry if they don't even pay you well enough for the basics? I suppose your children are embarrassed, using things that aren't really theirs."

Mr Weasley flushed darker than Ron, Lisa, or Ginny. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr and Mrs Granger, who were watching apprehensively. Mrs Turpin had been shrieking, trying to free her husband from what Harry now realised were living books. "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower--"

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr Weasley had thrown himself at Mr Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Draco had retreated up the stairs, looking more shocked than ever. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George; Mrs Weasley was screaming, "No, Arthur, no!"; The crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentlemen, please- please!" cried a desperate assistant, and then, louder than all--

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up--"

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy apart. Mr Weasley had a cut lip and Mr Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl-- take your book-- it's probably the best your father can give you for the rest of your life," He muttered, pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip, he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop very quickly.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that-- little ter no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter-- prolly bad blood, is what it is-- come on now-- let's get outta here."

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers and Turpins shaking with fright(or maybe Mr Turpin from how he had been bruised and cut from the living books, the poor man) and Mrs Weasley was beside herself with fury.

"A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought--"

"He was pleased, the bloody tosser," said Fred.

"Yeah! Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report-- said it was all publicity!" added George. 

But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder. They said good-bye to the Grangers and the Turpins, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Padma had disappeared with her family before they even left Flourish and Blotts. Mr Weasley started to ask Mrs Granger how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs Weasley's face.

Harry still wasn't sure entirely what all had happened-- he had zoned out, or something, because one moment, he was watching Draco talk to Ginny, and then the next, Hagrid was pulling Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy apart. He was a bit lost, honestly. He could wonder later, he figured, because it was now time to go through the fireplace. He took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket as Hermione pulled him along with her, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. It definitely wasn't his favourite way to travel-- if not least favourite.