To a World Gone Astray

Streets*****
As darkness falls
So hard
Come and play
 
Harry was bored.
 
He lay on the bed in his Leaky Cauldron room, wishing for his friends to arrive. Only two more days left in the summer holidays, and still no sign of them. He’d spent his vacation exploring the shops of Diagon Alley, and by now had gotten quite tired of running his hands over the shaft of the Firebolt or eating ice cream outside of Florean Fortescue. He needed someone to talk to.
 
Unfortunately, all he had was a mirror. A talking mirror. A mirror that did not know how to shut up.
 
It had gone on – and on – and on – all vacation, until Harry had been severely tempted to risk the seven years bad luck and silence it. By now, he’d heard everything he’d ever wanted to know about everyone who had ever occupied this room, and several things he didn’t want to know. He was beginning to get rather annoyed with this loquacious piece of furniture. The mirror seemed completely unaware of this, though, as it rambled on about life, the universe, and everything.
 
“…and then, there was this couple that came in here and started making sundaes,” it said. “With whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Imagine that. They looked underage, too. Definitely too young for whipped cream. Probably should have been sticking to plain old vanilla. Hey…are you listening?”
 
“Mrmm?” Harry mumbled.
 
“Good,” it went on. “Anyway, they spent most of the day – and night – doing that. I’ve never seen someone eat that much whipped cream in my life. Such an appetite. You’re not listening, are you?” The mirror paused then, but only for a moment. “Very well. New story. Did I ever tell you about the time-smuggler that stayed here, oh….well, I guess I couldn’t tell you how long it was.”
 
Harry groaned softly.
 
“Don’t like that one either, eh. Well, at least he went out and had some adventures. Unlike some people,” it said. It could have been his imagination, but Harry thought he saw the mirror deliver a pointed stare in his direction. The mirror had been nagging him to go out and do something all vacation – as if Harry hadn’t been busy enough! He certainly didn’t need an inanimate object dictating his movements.
 
“Don’t you ever get tired of talking?” he asked it.
 
“No. Anyway, why don’t you go out and have some fun? Diagon Alley’s a big place – there’re enough nooks and crannies to keep you busy for a lifetime.”
 
“I’ve already explored most of it,” Harry replied.
 
“Well, explore more of it, then!” the mirror replied, abruptly.
 
Harry looked suspiciously at the mirror. It was usually overjoyed to have an audience; Harry couldn’t imagine why it would suddenly want him out of the room. Unless…
 
“Planning a little rendezvous with someone special?” he teased.
 
The mirror’s frame seemed to blush copper. “Erm…” it hemmed and hawed. “I wouldn’t exactly say it was special…”
 
Harry gaped at the mirror. He’d been joking – he didn’t actually think the mirror was capable of carrying on an affair with someone. He stuttered for a minute before composing himself. “You’re seeing someone? Here? In this room?”
 
“Not someone, something. Many things, actually. Last week it was Colonel Candlestick, in the Bedroom, with the Mustard. And the week before…”
 
“Slut,” coughed a gruff voice behind Harry. He whirled around, and found himself staring at the fireplace. Harry’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead – although he should have been used to talking furniture by now, the fireplace hadn’t said anything all vacation. Strange, that it would care so much about who – or what - the mirror had over…
 
“Dear, we’ve been over this,” said the mirror. Its voice had a condescending tone, as if the fireplace’s brain was made out of bricks. “I can see whatever I want until the divorce comes through.”
 
“You’re married?” asked Harry, incredulous.
 
The fireplace replied. “We were, until that bitch” – the logs shifted to point towards the mirror – “decided my feelings weren’t important. Thinks she can waltz in with whatever home furnishing fits her fancy this week, right in front of me! You’re tearing up my hearth, you know. Feels like I’ve been stabbed by a red-hot poker.”
 
“Oh, shove a stick in it,” said the mirror.
 
One of the cinders within the fireplace burst into flame, giving it an ominously red-eyed look. “See? There it goes again – always telling me what to do. Why, remember that time you brought that friend of yours in here? The one who flew in on the umbrella?”
 
“My friend was the umbrella. Didn’t care much for the lady,” the mirror corrected.
 
“Whatever. Well, she had her chimney sweep clean me out afterwards! You have no idea how much that hurt – he may have been a tiny chimney sweep, but he had an enormous broom!” The fireplace seemed to wince, just remembering.
 
“Well, perhaps if you hadn’t been so dirty, you wouldn’t have needed cleaning out. Why, I got the flu from just being in the same room as you.”
 
This argument was giving Harry a headache. “Er, can’t you two patch up your differences and get along? Or at least have your shouting matches after I’ve gone to Hogwarts?”
 
“No,” the mirror and fireplace answered in unison.
 
Harry sighed and pulled the pillow over his head.
 
It didn’t help much, though. Harry could still hear their voices no matter how tightly he covered his ears.
 
“…dirty old hole in the wall…”
 
“…flat and shallow piece of glass…”
 
“…may you roast in the fires of…”
 
“…seven years bad luck be damned…”
 
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Two feuding pieces of furniture had done what all the mirror’s cajoling couldn’t. He had to get out of his room. Unnoticed by either bedroom fixture, he pulled on his shoes and headed out to explore Diagon Alley once more.
 

* * * * *

Somewhere
Out there
Alone and out of place
 
Harry emerged from the Leaky Cauldron into the safe familiarity of Diagon Alley. He must have walked these streets a hundred times in the past couple of weeks. By now, he knew every shop, every doorway, and every hidden passageway.
 
Except one.
 
It caught his eye, just as he was wandering past Florean Fortescue’s. A tiny gap in the solid façade of storefronts, just big enough for a boy Harry’s age to slip through. He’d never seen it before – and he’d sat right beside this spot every day for the past two weeks. He wondered briefly why he’d missed it – and then figured there were certainly stranger things in the wizarding world. After all, who would’ve thought that mirrors and fireplaces could talk, let alone get married?
 
Poking his head into the opening, he tried to find out where it led. It was dark – and long, long enough that Harry couldn’t see an opening at the other end. Harry muttered a soft “Lumos”, and squeezed through the opening.
 
It was tight enough that he couldn’t turn around. He had to shimmy sideways, his wand outstretched before him. He felt his way blindly through the half-light given off by his wand.
 
After about ten paces, the passageway widened, allowing him to walk normally. It was still featureless stone on either side, though, and Harry had no idea where it led. A brief flicker of fear passed through his mind – what if it didn’t lead anywhere? What if there was something dangerous at the end? But in the end, his curiosity one out, and he moved onwards.
 
Eventually, he came to a large wrought-iron gate. It stood across the passageway, a featureless grey sentinel. Featureless, except for some large orange lettering painted smack in the center. Harry bent down and read it by the light of his wand.
 
“Do Not Open. Really. We Mean It,” it said.
 
Interest piqued, Harry couldn’t get his mind off what might be behind it. Granted, doors that say “Do Not Open. Really. We Mean It.” usually have a reason for it. But there was nothing to indicate a nearby danger – no scratching at the other side, or spooky owls standing guard, or screaming books. Harry doubted that any harm could come from a little exploration.
 
He pushed gently at the gate. It gave – not even locked! Harry carefully tiptoed past the threshold, and stepped into an unfortunately familiar place.
 
He had stumbled upon Knockturn Alley.
 
 

* * * * *

Streets of illusion
Sooth the shattered faith
 
Harry whirled around, trying to orient himself. Where the gate had been only a second before, a narrow, twisted alleyway stretched. There was no indication of any way into or out of Knockturn Alley here. Apparently, the gate had been one-way only.
 
Fighting down panic, Harry gathered himself together and took stock of his surroundings. The streets were narrower here, but had none of the bustle and crowd of Diagon Alley. Harry passed by one particularly dilapidated storefront that looked like it hadn’t had a living soul occupy it for fifty years.
 
“Sylvia’s Spirit Shop,” the sign read. “Purveyor of fine equipment for ghosts, spirits, haunts, and poltergeists.” Figures, Harry thought. A dead house for dead people.
 
Harry walked over to the storefront and pressed his face up against the glass. He couldn’t see much inside; it appeared to be totally dark. Just what could a ghost need in the afterlife, anyway? Chains? Shrouds? Fizzing whizbees? He’d have to ask Nearly Headless Nick when he got back to Hogwarts.
 
He peered deeper into the shop and found himself staring into the wispy and unsubstantial face of what had once been an old lady. Her face and body looked as if they had been cut into ribbons in a most grotesque fashion. Harry jumped backwards with a start – he had expected that all the shopkeepers would at least have all their internal organs intact. He tried to avert his eyes, as it seemed somehow rude (not to mention nauseating) to look at someone who didn’t have all her skin on.
 
“Move along now,” she said in a voice that reminded Harry of the anti-smoking commercials Uncle Vernon was always making fun of. “If you’re not going to buy, don’t stand there scaring away customers.”
 
Harry decided it wasn’t prudent to argue with an angry ghost – he might end up looking worse than she did - and headed down the street a couple stores. He found himself underneath the “Welcome to Knockturn Alley” sign. He rushed past the candle shop, but the store next to it caught his eye.
 
It was a pet shop. Or rather, a grotesque imitation of a pet shop. The display case was alive with creatures, crawling, slithering, gliding over the glass. A pair of fairy-like creatures flew through the air, engaged in what was either a fight to the death or a very elaborate mating dance. Off in the corner, a toad sat upon an egg. Periodically, a blanket-like animal would glide over to it, investigating.
 
Harry watched for a while, both fascinated and horrified. As long as the glass was between him and the creatures, he felt reasonably secure. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that one of these beasts would lead to his destruction.
 
A low, throbbing sound made Harry jump. He looked around nervously, afraid that he was no longer alone in Knockturn Alley. On closer examination, though, he found that the bone-chilling cry was produced by a tiny bird, hidden in a bramble nest. It had been splashed by a monkey-like creature playing in a pool at the bottom of the case. Apparently, the bird didn’t like water.
 
Realizing that perhaps he shouldn’t be examining such critters too closely, Harry moved on.
 
The next couple of stores were either boarded up or closed. He passed by the spider store, where two enormous spiders appeared to be untangling their legs. Ron would just love this shop … if Harry ever managed to drag him within a hundred meters of it. An unsettling feeling came over him, and so he hurried onwards.
 
Borgin and Burkes was next, a large, squat building across the street. Harry paused briefly and pondered going inside, but decided against it, remembering what transpired last year when he ended up in there. Nothing in there could possibly interest him – he hoped.
 
The shadows were growing longer now, and Harry figured it was time for him to head back to the Leaky Cauldron. Because of Knockturn Alley’s narrowness, much of the street was cast in darkness, and it wouldn’t be long before Harry would have to find his way back in the dark. He didn’t much like the prospect of this – aside from this being Knockturn Alley, where scary things happened after dark, he would have to deal with the innkeeper and Cornelius Fudge if he came back much after nightfall. They wouldn’t be pleased, to say the least.
 
That unnerving feeling came back, a sense that someone was nearby. He turned around and scanned the street – nobody. He shuddered, remembering what had transpired right before the Knight Bus picked him up. This felt similar somehow, as if he was being watched. He couldn’t be, though – no one was around. Unless… unless what was watching him wasn’t human. Harry didn’t want to think about that. He began to turn around, planning to head back immediately.
 
And then he saw it, in the alleyway besides Borgin and Burkes. A pair of gleaming dark eyes. A hulking black canine form. It was the dog he had seen on Magnolia Crescent, the death omen from Flourish and Blotts. It let out a low growl, and its eyes fixed on Harry. He did the first thing that came to mind. He ran.
 

* * * * *

I've been a runner
I've been a sinner
I've been inside my head
I sit here staring
Never quite caring
And this is where it has led
 
Harry ran until he had reached the end of the network of narrow streets and cobblestone paths that comprised Knockturn Alley. Heart pounding, he forced himself to think over the situation rationally. A death omen? It couldn’t be – it was just an ordinary dog. This place must have tons of strays around. No need to worry about overgrown supernatural mutts. Now, which way out? The sun was down now, and the last glimmers of twilight would soon be fading away.
 
He looked around, taking stock of his surroundings. He was in a cul-de-sac, hemmed in by the backs of three storefronts. A stack of crates lay piled up by one wall, but there was no way out other than the path by which he had come. He could go back that way, but there were reasons other than the dog to avoid it. Knockturn Alley becomes a dangerous place after dark, full of shady dealings. He needed some form of protection before he was willing to brave that.
 
He wished he had remembered to bring his wand with him. As incompetent as Lockhart had been, he had managed to teach Harry some of the basics of dueling, and Harry felt confident in his ability to hold off an attacker long enough to run away, at least. But that was with magic – without a wand, he was no better off than an ordinary Muggle. What he needed was a weapon.
 
Perhaps there was something in one of those crates. These shops sold all sorts of things; maybe some of their discarded inventory would be useful. The stack was taller than he was; he’d have to stretch the reach in. He stood on tiptoe and dangled his hand over the edge of the top box…
 
…and promptly lost his balance as the crates came tumbling down on him. Shaken but relatively unhurt, he stood up and brushed himself off. Someone else would have to worry about the crates, for the wall behind them now caught Harry’s eye. Two bricks stuck out at unnatural angles, looking decidedly out of place. Harry walked over and touched one of them – nothing. He tried twisting it – it seemed to give a little, but nothing much happened. Then he grabbed both bricks, and pushed.
 
The wall disappeared. Or rather, a man-sized section of the wall disappeared. Harry peered through the opening. It led to a bustling, well-lit alleyway, full of apparently reputable wizards and witches. “Saikik Alley”, the street sign read. Well, wherever it was, it was better than heading back through the twists and turns of Knockturn Alley in the dark. With any luck, there’d be an opening to Diagon Alley on the other side.
 
Stepping through the opening, Harry found himself in the middle of wide thoroughfare. There was nothing behind him – apparently, this entrance was one-way only. To his right, a shop sold Remembralls of all different sizes, shapes, colors, and flavors. (Flavors? Who’d need to taste their Remembrall?) A little further down on the left, a building apparently served as a school for wannabe psychics. Its sign advertised: “Develop your latent psychic talent! You too can know what other people really think about you!” Although Harry could understand the appeal of this, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know everything that other people thought – some things were better left unsaid. He moved on.
 
A fortuneteller was practicing her craft at a makeshift table by the side of the road. Normally Harry would have passed on by, but there was one question that had been nagging at the back of his mind since his visit to Flourish and Blotts. He pulled a couple of Sickles out of his pocket and sat down for a reading.
 
“Interesting, very interesting indeed,” she began, taking his palm in her hand. “Such a tragic past – poor boy, it must haunt you constantly.”
 
Harry squirmed a little at that – he did not want to be reminded of this. “Can we get to the future please?” he said.
 
“I’m getting there. To see the future, we must first understand the present. Patience, my boy, and all will reveal itself. Ah yes, a student at Hogwarts. Mischievous and impulsive – that may get you into trouble. A couple of devoted friends, but few connections besides them.” She paused, concentrating on the pattern of lines on his hand. “I see many threads here, many possible futures. The future is what we make of it, so my readings can never be one hundred percent certain.”
 
That was it? Harry felt gypped. “Then what the heck am I paying you for? I’ve heard much the same from Professor Dumbledore!”
 
“I’m not finished yet,” the fortuneteller calmly replied. She closed her eyes, and intoned: “One thread stands out above the others. It seems you are in for a difficult year. The past will come back to haunt you. Old enemies may seem your friends, and old friends may seem your enemies. You may find out things about yourself you never wished to know. Beware the forest – unpleasant things live there. And remember – there’s more to life than living.” Her eyes flicked open.
 
“Er, yeah, thank you,” Harry said, standing up. That was thoroughly disappointing. A good fortuneteller could at least have avoided speaking in riddles. All that, and he still knew nothing more about that dog that kept popping up. At least it was only a couple of Sickles – any more, and he would have seriously considered reporting her to the Department of Gypsy Fraud.
 
He walked on down the street, mindful of the need to get home before the innkeeper came to check on him. This came out on Diagon Alley, right? He certainly hoped so. It was nighttime now, and Harry did not want to go back the way he came. The stores here were fascinating, though – Harry couldn’t wait to show Ron and Hermione. All sorts of arcane lore graced the sides of this alley, and they would eat it up.
 
Saikik Alley ended in a large open plaza. A fountain stood in the center, its pool surrounding a statue of a cherub. No sign of Diagon Alley anywhere. Heart sinking, Harry decided to try asking around before braving the trip back through Knockturn Alley.
 
“Excuse me sir, can I get to Diagon Alley from here?” he asked, pulling aside a passing old wizard.
 
The wizard didn’t speak, but merely pointed to the statue.
 
Harry walked over to the fountain, wondering what he was supposed to do. He climbed up on the edge of the pool. Was it the water? The statue? He dipped his feet into the water. Nothing happened. He walked over to the statue and tried pulling an arm. Still nothing. Then he tried clasping his hand over the cherub’s outstretched palm. The cold granite fingers wrapped around his, he felt an odd warmth, and then…
 
…he stood in front of Ollivander’s Wands. Apparently this portal was also one-way only, as there was nothing that indicated a way back to Saikik Alley. He’d have to drag Ron and Hermione through Knockturn Alley if he wanted to show them his new discovery, but at least he knew –or thought he knew - the way. Brimming with anticipation, he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.
 

* * * * *

These streets
Glitter in the dark
Don't sleep
Red eyes sunken and stark
Dream deep
In her arms where you are safe
These streets
Never sleep still they never wake
 
When Harry met Ron and Hermione the next day, the first thing on his mind was his discovery of Saikik Alley. In the excitement of seeing his friends, though, it soon slipped away, and he found himself regaling them with tales of blown up aunts while nibbling at ice cream. After that, Hermione bought a most disagreeable cat, and they headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. By dinnertime, Saikik Alley was hidden in the far recesses of his memory, and he and Hermione found themselves listening to tales of the Weasley’s Egypt adventure.
 
“The pyramids must have been so interesting!” Hermione managed to interject in between Percy’s bragging about how the tour guides were so impressed with his knowledge. “All that history in the middle of the desert. It must have felt like you’d been transported back three thousand years.”
 
“Yep,” said Fred – or was it George? “We were hoping they’d use Percy as a demonstration of the mummification process, but they said he’s too stiff already and could go straight into the sarcophagus.”
 
Everybody except Percy laughed a little at this. Mrs. Weasley shot George – Fred? – a warning look, but Harry could see her eyes twinkling too. Percy’s lack of a sense of humor was legendary, and just about everyone agreed that he needed to be taken down a peg or ten occasionally.
 
Percy snorted. “That particular tour guide didn’t know anything. He said the bodies were embalmed with napalm instead of natron. I had to correct him before Fred and George got any ideas,” he said.
 
“Too bad,” Gred – or whoever the other twin was – replied. “Exploding Corpses could have been a neat pastime, sort of like Exploding Snap. Hey, maybe we can make a business out of it!”
 
“Fred,” said his father sternly. “The last time you two got near explosives, you nearly blew up Gryffindor tower. Not to mention earning yourselves a month’s detention. That will not happen again. Do you hear me? Not again.”
 
“Aww, Dad,” said George. “Now someone else will end up patenting the idea, while we remain poor Weasleys.”
 
“The issue is closed. Harry, how was your summer?”
 
“Er, ok I guess. The Dursleys kept me locked up inside most of the time, so I didn’t get to do very much.” An awkward silence fell over the table.
 
Fred and George broke it. “We can talk about the time George and I wrapped ourselves in bandages and crept up behind Ron. Boy, did he jump. I’ve never seen someone run through those tunnels so fast.”
 
Ron blushed scarlet. Harry empathized with him a little – nobody likes to be made fun of in public, particularly not in front of his friends. But in a way, he envied Ron for all the good-natured teasing of his brothers. It showed how close his family was, that they could ridicule each other and still remain on good terms at the end of the day. If Harry said anything remotely negative about Dudley, he got locked in his cupboard for a month. We can only hurt the ones we love, and then it shows just how much we love them, he thought.
 
The conversation then turned to Percy’s appointment as Head Boy, a somewhat less interesting topic. Fred and George kept up their wisecracks, which seemed infinitely funnier when directed at Percy, who just seemed to invite it. Percy’s comments about rule breaking, however, jolted alive the memory of Saikik Alley, and Harry suddenly felt the overwhelming need to share his discovery with someone.
 
When dinner ended, Harry pulled Ron and Hermione aside. “I’ve got something to tell you,” he told them.
 
“Is it important?” Hermione said, yawning. “I’m tired, and we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
 
“Yes,” he answered. “I went exploring yesterday – started with Knockturn Alley, but that’s not what this is about.”
 
Hermione and Ron’s eyes widened at this. Now fully awake, Hermione interrupted. “Knockturn Alley? Are you crazy? That’s a dangerous place – if Fudge knew, you’d be in really serious trouble. I hope you aren’t asking us to go back there with you.”
 
“Will you shut up and let me finish? Anyway, while I was exploring there, I came across this portal to a whole ‘nother street. It’s called Saikik Alley, and it has all sorts of really cool shops and stuff. There’s fortunetellers, and training courses, and lots of bookstores” – Hermione seemed to perk up a little at this – “and lots of neat magical devices.”
 
“And you want us to come explore it with you?” said Ron.
 
“Exactly,” said Harry.
 
“Sounds cool. I’m always up for a change of surroundings,” said Ron.
 
“But Harry,” Hermione objected, “do we have to go through Knockturn Alley to get there?”
 
“Er, well,” Harry said, “I haven’t found any other entrance. It’s not like we’d be lingering long though. We just walk to the end and twist a couple bricks and we’re out of Knockturn Alley.”
 
Hermione didn’t seem convinced. “Absolutely not. Harry, Knockturn Alley’s a dangerous place after dark. All sorts of Dark Magic go on there. Remember what happened when you ended up there last year? Even just passing through, we’re liable to be kidnapped or worse. To say nothing of the trouble we’d be in if the adults found out!”
 
“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said. “It’s not like Harry never came back from last year’s adventure. We’ll be going together, we’ve all been trained in dueling, and to be honest, you’re the most frightening witch I’ve ever known.” Harry chuckled inwardly at that – sometimes, Hermione’s knowledge did seem a little scary.
 
“Fine then, you guys can go. Don’t expect me to tag along though!” With that, Hermione turned around and headed upstairs, leaving Ron and Harry alone in the parlor.
 
“Suit yourself!” Ron called after her. Turning to Harry, he suggested, “How about we meet down here after Percy goes to sleep? We’re in the next room over, so you should be able to hear his snoring.”
 
“Okay. See you then. Don’t forget your wand – we want to be prepared in case we meet anything in Knockturn Alley.”
 
On that note, they each headed upstairs to their rooms.
 

* * * * *

Somewhere, out there
Gardens bloom and grow
Children awaken
To a world they know
 
Harry had to wait quite a long while before Percy fell asleep. Percy’s Head Boy badge and Scabbers’s rat tonic had disappeared, prompting an argument that kept most of the Leaky Cauldron awake. Seeking to end this confrontation, Harry headed downstairs to look for the missing items.
 
He found more than he bargained for, though. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were having an argument in the parlor, an argument about … him? Yes – they were debating whether to tell him certain information. Information that Sirius Black was after him.
 
Harry headed back upstairs, having found the rat tonic under a table. Was this excursion still a good idea? Most people didn’t head into the center of Dark Magic with one of Voldemort’s top Death Eaters after them. He could still change his mind – Ron might be disappointed, but he would understand.
 
Ron and Percy’s door was open, so he just walked in, handed Ron the tonic, and left. He was sorely tempted to tell Percy that Fred and George had his (Big)Head Boy badge, just to shut him up. But in the end, he decided to let the twins have their fun and hope that Percy would just give up and go to sleep. He headed back to his own room to wait.
 
Harry’s thoughts returned to Black. Thirteen Muggles with one curse! Harry doubted that any magic they could work would have an effect on a hardened criminal like Black. Black wouldn’t take prisoners either – if he wanted Harry dead, Harry would die. Certainly, the Leaky Cauldron was a safer place than nighttime in Knockturn Alley.
 
On the other hand, there was still some question as to whether Black was anywhere nearLondon. He’d kept repeating, “He’s at Hogwarts” while in Azkaban; logically, that would be the first place he’d look. And as evil as Knockturn Alley was, it was still in the heart of wizarding London. Harry doubted Black would be foolish enough to walk into a place that was frequented by large crowds of wizards, any one of whom might recognize him. If Black were to try anything, there’d be witnesses around to help. Besides, Harry and his friends would only be in Knockturn Alley for a couple minutes.
 
The shouting next door had died down, replaced by a heavy snoring. Percy was asleep, finally.
 
Harry scowled at the ceiling. There was probably nothing to worry about; why was he agonizing so much over this? He wouldn’t be able to go to Hogsmeade this year; he might as well have a little fun while he could. They’d be back in an hour or so, anyway.
 
He was just about to head downstairs when the memory of the beast on Magnolia Crescent passed through his consciousness. He shivered involuntarily. It couldn’t be a death omen – not this early, at least. The fortuneteller had implied that he’d at least live to get to Hogwarts. Surely, this one excursion wouldn’t lead to anything.
 
What to do when you know the worst is coming… he thought. Well, he certainly wouldn’t just lie in bed and brood about it. Might as well go out and have some fun first. He put on his shoes, and headed downstairs to meet Ron.
 

* * * * *

Somewhere there's sunshine
Somewhere the light's kind
Somewhere they seek the day
Somewhere there's no scene
Somewhere the air's clean
But somewhere is so far away
 
Ron was already waiting in the parlor when Harry arrived. He sat in a chair by the fireplace, twiddling his thumbs. “All set?” he asked.
 
“Yeah,” Harry replied. No point worrying Ron about Sirius Black. They headed towards the door.
 
“Wait!” came a familiar voice from the top of the stairs. Hermione stood there, dressed as if she would be accompanying them. Figured, that she would change her mind.
 
“Weren’t you going to sleep or something?” Ron said. “I thought this was all too dangerous, and you had better things to do, and we’d all get in trouble.” Harry had to admit that Ron could pull off a decent parody of Hermione’s voice.
 
“With all the racket you guys were making? I don’t think I’d have made it to sleep before daybreak. No doubt the other patrons feel the same way.”
 
Ron grinned sheepishly, though he didn’t seem very repentant.
 
“Hermione, are you coming with us or not?” asked Harry.
 
She shrugged. “I guess so. Somebody’s got to keep you guys out of trouble.” She started down the stairs, holding herself like an arrogant debutante.
 
“Taking her bloody time, too,” Ron whispered to Harry. “At least if some beast comes chasing us, they’ll catch her first.”
 
“I heard that, Ronald Weasley!”
 
Ron stuck his tongue out at her. Hermione looked as if she was about to turn her back on them and head right back to her room.
 
“So bloody oversensitive,” Ron muttered.
 
Harry felt the need to bring some peace to his feuding friends. “Look, guys, we don’t have time for petty fights.” He turned to Hermione. “Are you coming with us or not?”
 
Hermione seemed to waver with indecision. “I swear, you guys are going to get in deep trouble for this…” she said, trying to justify her reticence. But Harry thought he saw something else in her expression – fear, was it? Couldn’t be - the bossy little witch Harry knew wouldn’t be afraid of a quick trip through an alleyway.
 
She paused, gathering herself. “Alright. But we better stay away from the shops in Knockturn Alley, and try to get back here soon.”
 
Ron’s eyes met Harry’s in a silent high-five, and they headed out the door.
 

* * * * *

These streets
Glitter in the dark
Don't sleep
Red eyes sunken and stark
Dream deep
In her arms where you are safe
These streets
Never sleep still they never wake
 
Knockturn Alley seemed completely different at night. Instead of being decrepit but harmless structures, the stores took on a sinister quality to them, like sentinels guarding some dark secret. They stood high above either side of the street, casting long shadows in the pale moonlight. The streets themselves seemed alive, but in a perverted, twisted way. Everything was different – the night brought out the true character of Knockturn Alley.
 
Harry was glad that he had both of his friends with him. If he got lost (which seemed increasingly likely now), at least they’d be lost together.
 
“Er, Harry, do you know where we are?” Ron asked.
 
“Of course I do. We’re in Knockturn Alley.” Well, it sounded better than “We’re lost.”
 
“Good. I’d hate to think we were lost,” Ron said.
 
Hermione clung to his arm now. Her earlier bravado was completely gone now – she seemed even more spooked by Knockturn Alley than Harry and Ron.
 
“Harry?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper. “Are you sure it’s safe here?” A cat screeched in the distance, making them all flinch.
 
“Of course it is. We’ve got you to keep us out of trouble, remember?” Harry knew that was a little unkind of him, but he couldn’t resist. The scared, trembling Hermione that was now hanging on to his arm seemed so different from the cocky, self-assured girl that had stood at the top of the stairs.
 
“And if something does come to eat us, they’ll get you first,” added Ron. He chortled a little bit, but it was a nervous chuckle, not his typical mocking laugh.
 
“That’s not funny, Ron,” Hermione replied.
 
Ron just shrugged apologetically.
 
After a few more minutes of seemingly walking in circles, the streets seemed to straighten out. Harry spotted Borgin and Burkes up ahead, and pointed out that they were at least headed in the right direction.
 
“Look Ron, there’s the spider shop. Want to go check it out?” Harry asked.
 
“Let’s walk on the other side of street,” Ron replied. Harry snickered inwardly.
 
They were just one shop away from Borgins and Burkes now. Harry tried to remember where he had run after he’d seen the dog. Left, then two rights. Or was it right, then two lefts? It had all seemed so blurred at the time – he had been more intent on getting away from whatever was in the shadows than in remembering where he went at the time. Harry hoped he hadn’t led his friends all the way out here only to forget where the entrance was.
 
Hermione interrupted his thoughts with a tug on the sleeve. “Harry,” she whispered. “Do you hear voices?”
 
Harry was about to reply that no, he was not going insane, when his ears perked up. Sure enough, voices were coming from inside Borgin and Burkes.
 
Apparently, they had stumbled across one of those shady deals that Knockturn Alley was so famous for.
 

* * * * *

Welcome children
From the other side
In the darkness
Your eyes are opened wide
 
Harry pulled his two friends into the alley besides Borgin and Burkes’. Hermione’s eyes widened – Harry doubted that she had expected to actually run into anyone. He put his finger to his lips and motioned Ron and Hermione to be silent. From here, they could hear snatches of conversation from inside the shop.
 
“Of course, Mr. Malfoy, we have a full range of goods available…” said the shopkeeper. Lucius Malfoy! Harry had seen him in this very shop last year, but he had been selling that time. What could he be interested in now? Up to no good, no doubt.
 
“Good, Mr. Borgin. As I’m sure you know, dealing with me can be quite … lucrative. Assuming, of course, that I receive the highest quality merchandise. The Malfoys are not known to forgive those who cheat them.”
 
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Malfoy,” said Borgin, a little nervously. “Now, if you’d like to browse our display case…”
 
“That little snake,” Ron spat. “No wonder Draco’s so nasty. Like father, like son.”
 
Harry shushed him hastily. It wouldn’t do to be overheard.
 
The three of them peeked around the corner, trying to get a glimpse of what Borgin was selling. By sticking just their necks out, they found they could see in through the glass storefront, but still weren’t too visible.
 
Lucius held something that looked like a human femur. From the bits of conversation that Harry overheard, he and Borgin appeared to be haggling over the price.
 
“Five Galleons! Outrageous! I could get one of these in the cemetery for free, and you’re charging five bloody galleons?!”
 
“These have been specially treated…” Harry strained to hear the rest of the conversation, but Borgin had suddenly dropped his voice. The exchange ended with Lucius handing over a couple gold coins for the bone.
 
“Gross!” Hermione said, her voice a hushed but disgusted whisper. Harry was inclined to agree – human bones belonged in the ground, not on some store counter. He shuddered to think of what Lucius would be doing with those bones.
 
The next item was a clear, glass pendant, suspended from a silver chain. Harry had no idea what it was, but Lucius had evidently bought one before.
 
“Ah yes, one of those,” Borgin said. “It’s been a good, what, ten years since you bought the last one?”
 
“Thirteen,” replied Lucius.
 
“Who’s the lucky victim this time?” Borgin asked, chuckling softly.
 
“I’m babysitting MacNair’s nephew next week. I figured it was the perfect opportunity to ensure the loyalty of one more servant.”
 
The manner in which Lucius said this sent chills up Harry’s spine. It seemed as if he thought nothing of using a child to gain power over his rivals. Even though Harry had no idea what the pendant did, it didn’t seem pleasant.
 
“…twenty three galleons,” he overheard. Lucius didn’t seem to happy about this, but he handed over the money.
 
They went through a couple more items, none of which looked too pleasant. Harry was beginning to get uncomfortable – he was squatting, his head craned at an unnatural angle to peer around the corner, and both his thighs and neck had begun to hurt.
 
Evidently, Ron and Hermione had similar difficulties. “Oww!” came Hermione’s voice. “Ron, your elbow’s crushing my spine.”
 
“Duck, then. I’ve got to stand on tiptoes to see over your head.”
 
Harry quickly quieted his friends. They did not want to be discovered. His gaze returned to Lucius and Borgin, making sure they hadn’t noticed. They were on the last piece of merchandise now, a round oval shape that looked much like a piece of polished obsidian.
 
“That’s a Soul Vortex,” explained Borgin. “When activated, it’ll consume any nearby souls that are not firmly attached to a body. They’re usually used for getting rid of haunts, dealing with ghosts and stuff, but they can be deadly to sleeping and unconscious people too.”
 
“How easy are they to activate? Do I have to worry about setting it off accidentally?”
 
“Not easy. A wizard has to concentrate intently for a couple of minutes before it goes off. It’ll start glowing and humming, too, so you have warning. It’s not going to kill your sleeping wife and children if they roll onto it…”
 
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking about them,” said Lucius.
 
Lucius asked a couple more questions, and then handed Mr. Borgin some coins. He stuffed the Soul Vortex into a pocket, and started packing up his purchases.
 
A startling thought came to Harry. This alleyway wasn’t very deep, and one of the few streetlamps in Knockturn Alley was positioned directly across from it. It wouldn’t be possible to hide in the shadows here, not if someone was in the street. And Lucius would be walking right by them when he left the store.
 
“Quick,” he told Ron and Hermione. “We can’t stay here – Lucius’ll see us on his way out. We need to find somewhere else to hide!”
 
The three of them had just crept out of the alleyway when Lucius emerged from the store.
 

* * * * *

Here there are answers
On the edge dancers
Here the night hides our sins
And if you listen
While the streets glisten
Here's where our story begins
 
Lucius spotted them almost at once. His features took on a menacing cast, his lips turned into a sneer. “So, we have a trio of eavesdroppers. Little brats probably never learned to mind their own business. Tsk tsk. Well, you’ll find out soon enough that Knockturn Alley does not appreciate people who meddle in others affairs.”
 
He started advancing towards the three children. Harry found himself riveted in place by fear. His legs had turned to stone – he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.
 
“All three of you’ve been naughty,” Lucius continued. “And here, we punish naughty children.”
 
He took out his wand and pointed it at Harry.
 
The sudden, imminent danger broke the spell that held Harry in place. “Run!” he shouted. All three of them bolted, running past Lucius in a fit of pure adrenalin.
 
Ron was narrowly missed by a stupefy spell that Lucius had cast. Harry could hear his footfalls behind him, while farther back, Hermione’s labored breathing told him that she was still with him too. “Follow me!” he yelled, hoping to stay together.
 
The terror that gripped him now was far worse than anything the dog had caused. This enemy was real; somewhere out there, an angry Lucius Malfoy waited with wand in hand. He had to get away, had to put some distance between him and Draco’s evil father.
 
He vaguely heard Hermione cry out “Wait!” behind him. He couldn’t: his legs were running with a fury that was all their own now. He had to move, had to run. Conscious mind was submerged under his animal instincts, thought buried under the primitive fight-or-flight response.
 
Buildings passed by in a blur, none recognizable. He wasn’t paying much attention to them – the only thing that mattered was that he put as much distance between him and Lucius as possible. He had no idea where he was. Any sense of direction had long been lost to the twisty, shifty streets of Knockturn Alley.
 
Out of breath now, Harry saw a gap between two buildings up ahead. He should be reasonably safe there – it wasn’t easily visible from the street. He called out for his friends to follow him. No answer – perhaps they were just as exhausted as he.
 
He ducked into the alleyway and looked behind him, hoping to flag down his friends. Instead, his heart sank.
 
Ron and Hermione had disappeared.