Harry Potter and the Death of Fear

Chapter Two: The Letter

Harry felt his body lurch forward and he sat up, rather dizzy, and groaned, remembering the events of the night before. Out of the window of the speeding Knight Bus, Harry saw the familiar shops of Diagon Alley whizzing by. He shouted, “Stop!” in a hoarse voice, causing the whole bus to screech to a severe halt. He gathered his luggage and trudged off the violently purple bus. He nodded to the driver who annoyingly, gave his forehead a curious stare in return.

The bright morning sun burned down on the busy Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards bustled pass Harry, as he stood in the middle of the street, staring at his wrist. It was half past eleven, and Harry knew, if he was going to avoid the mess he had caused and the trouble he was undoubtedly in, then he would have to find a place to hide. Squinting through the bright sun, Harry saw the familiar, tattered sign of the Leaky Cauldron.

It was perfect. He knew his way around the inn, and if anyone started asking questions he’d flatten his fringe and hide in a shadowed corner. Nobody would even notice him there if the strange guests that Harry had seen several summers before were anything to go by.

Keeping his head down, partly in habit of being recognised, partly in shame over the danger he, Harry Potter had now put the whole of the wizarding world in - the absolute mortal danger that was caused by the simple action of walking out of Number Four, Privet Drive. This realisation made Harry feel sick to his stomach. This horrible nauseating, sour pain scoured his body as he slowly made his way, guiltily, towards the Leaky Cauldron.

As he traipsed slowly up the cobbled street, Harry slowed down to a stop when a brilliant flash of white-silver caught his eye. Harry found himself staring in awe through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

There it was. The Silverstar. It was gloriously brilliant. Harry couldn’t have even imagined a broom like it. It’s silvery glow, not dissimilar to a Patronus exuded the feeling of comfort and relaxation. A black and white picture of a wizard zooming about on the broom was placed next to it and speech bubbles of facts came from his tiny mouth. Harry noticed the wooden handle was perfectly crafted for speed - “it has grooves for the rider’s fingers, and slightly rough patches on either side for knees to get a firm grip” said the little man, the letters forming the words coming out of his mouth. Harry watched him jocularly for a while as a rather plump wizard riding a speedy broomstick mad for quite an amusing sight. “To top it all off though,” the speech bubbles said, “the whole handle is coated in smooth, sleek, cool platinum metal. And the tail twigs! Each is neatly and accurately clipped to create a streamlined effect.” Harry inspected the whole of the broom, and from what he could make out, there was a “small magical switch which immediately converts the broom to Cruise level. You don’t even need to hold the handle! The Muggles who developed the idea call it auto-pilot.” Harry was dumb-struck. His beloved Firebolt was no match for this. The Silverstar. It hovered in the window, a magical, mystical glow enveloped it and Harry stood there, mesmerised.

A sudden thought popped into his head, out of nowhere. All Quidditch Team Seekers are required to own the new Silverstar broom. The Hogwarts letter! Harry’s heart leapt. The awful feeling of guilt temporarily gone. He needed this broom for Hogwarts! It was going to be his! His mind was light with joy. And then, suddenly, it felt as if it weighed a ton. Harry looked at the price and winced. Two hundred Galleons. Did he even have that much in his Gringott’s vault? How much did his parents actually leave him? Harry decided that was something to worry about later, and continued down the Alley, inundated with disappointment and the feeling of guilt slowly oozing back.

In the threadbare foyer of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was told by the landlord, Tom, a bald, toothless fellow, with a very bad memory, that he could stay in room twelve. The old pictures looked curiously at Harry as he made his way up the rickety staircase, mumbling to himself.

Harry was surprised to find his trunk and Hedwig’s cage already in the room, as he opened the door. He walked slowly over to Hedwig and let her out, she thankfully cooed, stretched her large, white wings and promptly glided out of the open window.
“You left them in the foyer, dear.” Said the mirror that was hanging crookedly on the wall. Harry nodded in response and fell onto the surprisingly comfortable bed. He realised, though he slept on the Knight Bus (which astounded him now that he thought about it) he was still very tired. Taking off his glasses, Harry yawned and closed his eyes. He was in a deep sleep almost instantly.

*

Harry dozily opened his eyes when an uncomfortable pinching feeling interrupted his dreams. He woke up to find Hedwig urgently pecking at his neck. A large scroll of parchment was neatly attached to her leg, which she stretched towards Harry when she saw him sit up and reach for his glasses. Harry untied the letter and drew the parchment to it’s full length. His eyes widened in trepidation when he read the letter. His stomach burned with excitement as he read it again.

Harry,

The risk of this letter being intercepted is very high, so if you get this in one piece, burn it once you’ve read it. If not, don’t do anything I’ve said in this letter. For your own safety.

Firstly, I am very disappointed. After our talk about the Dursely’s last year, I’d hoped that you had understood the importance of you staying with them. I just wished you’d have come to me if you didn’t. I hope you now realise the danger that you are in, but that can’t be helped now and what’s done is done.

Anyway, I have got some plans to make sure you’re not recognised. You know that Voldemort is very strong right now, and it is vital that you return to Hogwarts safely. I suppose he already knows about your flee from the Dursely’s and it shouldn’t be long before they find you.

First of all, there is no way you can stay at the Leaky Cauldron, despite what you may think. Here are directions to a small room hidden beneath Ollivander’s Wand Shop.

Firstly enter the shop ( I suppose you should get a wand while you’re at it - but then exit the shop, then re-enter with your Invisibility Cloak) and walk to the far left corner. You will see several wand boxes, all grouped together, and protruding from the rest surrounding them quite a distance. If you push in the centre box, then turn the one to it’s immediate right clockwise three times, an opening will appear at your feet. Climb into the opening and you will soon see some stairs, follow these down a bit and you will soon enter a small but, hopefully liveable room.
Don’t worry about Ollivander. He knows nothing of this place, and if you wear your Invisibility Cloak he will never know. I would get going as soon as possible if I were you, the shop closes at six-thirty.

Good luck and be careful, Harry.
Your friend,
Albus Dumbledore.

Even though Harry overflowed with elation at the top secret task, (which he’d memorised at the fifth reading of the letter before he threw it into the fireplace, where the golden flames licked at the yellowed parchment hungrily) he couldn’t help wondering what he would have done if he hadn’t received the letter. Would Death Eaters be looking for him? Would they have found him by now? How would he have defended himself without a wand? These thoughts sent a chill up Harry’s spine.

However, in his excitement, he forgot his worries and soon Harry had packed up his belongings, checked his watch - he had forty-five minutes, said goodbye to a confused-looking Tom and stepped out into the street, still busy with people bustling about.

Unfortunately for Harry, the Leaky Cauldron was at the one end of Diagon Alley, and Ollivander’s at the other. The thought of dragging an owl cage and a trunk the whole length of the Alley was not at all inviting for Harry, now without a wand (and cursing Uncle Vernon under his breath) and he started wondering, just how did Muggles manage?