Harry Potter and the Aurors Club

Yay me.


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Chapter 2- In Which Rory Meets Someone Famous

Chapter track: Black Steel (Radio Edit) by Tricky

    Alternative Post, reportage number 37, Ruth Dolts interviewing

Sonny Philips, professional photographer and close friend of Julius Malfoy.

AP: Mr. Philips, how did you come to know the Malfoys?

SP: I never claimed to know the Malfoys. Sure, I've been friends with Julius for years- don't give me that look. What I mean is that I hardly know him. He's very secretive until you go pub-hopping. That was one of our favorite pass times while we worked together.

AP: Tell me about his daughter.

SP: Ah yes, Rory. Scrawny little thing. She had the most pale skin I had ever seen, it was like looking at the moon-

AP: Then why did you hire her to model?

SP: I'm getting to that part. Geez, if you can't wait two minutes I might as well leave.

AP: Sorry...

SP: ... May I continue now?

AP: Please do.

SP: Hrump. Well, I was, you see, very good friends with her father, Julius Malfoy.

AP: So he hinted he wanted Rory in your magazine? For what, a self- esteem boost? Or was it deeper- a deliberate attempt to push her into the spot light, perhaps?

SP: Thank you for that lovely interruption, now I can really get my thoughts together.

AP: Sorry.

SP: Like a game of fifty-two pickup and you're the one card that explodes right near the end.

AP: I'm sorry.

SP: Sorry? Oh how I am glad. Now I know you won't do it again. Just like last time, eh?

AP: I think I'm going to cry.

SP: Don't. It'll smudge the enormous mass of eyeliner clouding your vision. What did you do, apply three coats of volcanic ash with a felt marker?

AP: This interview is over.

SP: Good. Your cardboard chair is making my million-Galleon butt numb. And stay away from Julius and his family. They're good people, and don't need you poking around.

    

    The scene outside Diagon Alley's broom shop that afternoon was one of great curiosity. A group of fifty or so witches and wizards of various ages were crowded around the front of the shop.

    Rory let the little curtain fall back down and glanced around the shop.

    Quality Quidditch Supplies, it was called. No false advertising here, she thought. The walls were covered with broomsticks, Quidditch uniforms and gear, training manuals and bottles upon bottles of potions that keep the brooms in mint condition.

    Rory bit her lip as she turned back to the window. She was feeling very nervous and even more self-conscious.

    She loved modeling, mostly because of the recognition. But she also knew that if Sonny Philips wasn't her father's close friend the photographer wouldn't give her a second look.

    Rory straightened the latest Quidditch robes from Aristotle and Calypso which she was about to twirl around in. They were bright blue with a pink lining and extra folds of fabric here and there that would in fact hinder a real Quidditch player, but were added anyway in the name of fashion.

    Rory wanted desperately to play Quidditch. Stovington's Etiquette school frowned upon the thought of disorganized flight, and ruled it as barbaric. She had flown before, and should be a decent player with a little practice. Okay, a lot more practice... Maybe she would settle for being Keeper, they don't fly around that much.

    The sound of a bell echoed in the empty shop and jarred Rory out of her wishful thinking. Sonny Philips, photographer and friend of Julius Malfoy, strode into the shop and faced Rory huffily.

    He was a stocky man with a big head, skin tanned to the orange extreme and broad shoulders. He whipped his sunglasses off to reveal a very light mask around his eyes that was his real skin color.

    

    "Are you ready yet?" he demanded peevishly.

    Rory nodded and he put his glasses back on and ripped the door open, causing the bell to chime insanely. Philips reached up and pulled the bell off the wall, threw it into a pile of Quidditch gloves and exited the store.

    Rory followed without comment. Philips was good at his job but a real jerk to work with. No wonder he was a friend of her father's.

    She stepped into the bright sunlight and felt a jolt of nervousness hit her stomach as the crowd focused their sight on her, curious to know what was going on.

    "All right people," Mr. Philips shouted irritably, waving his hands in short, snobbish motions. "Let's all stand back now, some of us have pictures to take!"

    Mr. Philips straightened the purple silk kerchief around his neck and stood behind the camera.

    "Now Rory, sweetie, I want you to stand in front of the broomsticks and look nice. Can you do that for me?"

    "Yes, Mr. Philips." Rory said mechanically. She walked over to the freshly washed display window and stood in front of the row of carefully placed broomsticks that was leaning against it.

    

    Mr. Philips immediately started snapping photos.

    "That's good," he said. "Now smile wider."

    Rory's eyes lingered for a moment on the shiny new brooms behind her. They were all Speed Birds, the newest -and fastest- model available.

    Mr. Philips took picture after picture and Rory thought her face might split in two with the effort of smiling. She was doing a very good job of ignoring the crowd, which had thinned significantly, until a particularly good looking boy with dark wine colored hair and a black leather jacket caught her eye.

    "Ro-ry," Philips sighed heavily. "Will you please concentrate on the camera? Are these people bothering you?"

    "Oh, no Mr. Philips," Rory said quickly, feeling the heat rise in her face.

    "I wanted to start the action shots, anyway." Philips said. "PRINGLE!"

    Mr. Pringle, owner of Quality Quidditch Supplies, came scuttling over.

    Rory glanced at the cute boy again. He smiled and threw her a wink.

    "Prringle," Philips said impatiently. "I want my model on one of these new ones here. The Tweed Curd or whatever they're called."

    "I think you should know about some of the new features before-" Mr. Pringle was cut off by Philips.

    "You silly man," Philips said grabbing a broom. "I don't have time for your little seminar right now, but if you send me a copy of it in a self-addressed stamped envelope I can assure you nothing could ever compel me to read it."

    Meanwhile in the crowd, Rory was still making eyes with the red haired hottie.

    His eyes were light brown, and the lashes around them were an inky black, making for a startlingly attractive appearance.

    Rory waved slightly, feeling light headed. Half of her wished he wouldn't come over, what would she say?

    "-Fine." Pringle spat, his face red with anger. "But I take no responsibility for anything that might happen. I warned you!"

    "Yes, yes. Simply enthralling," said Philips, using his wand to adjust lighting equipment.

    Rory was panicking. What if he walked over and her voice didn't work? Or worse, what if she said something stupid? Imagine if she blurted out that she still sleeps with her baby blanket.. Or that she once fed an Acid Pop to her neighbor's cat! Or-

     Rory's frantic thoughts were interrupted as a young witch of about ten broke from the crowd clutching a copy of CosmoWitch and stepped in front of Rory.

    "Can you please sign my magazine?" The girl asked, a giant smile on her face.

    "Um, sure," Rory said, taking the offered quill uncertainly. No one had ever asked her for her autograph before.

    "Just write, dear Unique- (oh the poor girl! Thought Rory) -To my biggest fan ever since I- I mean, you, received your very first copy of CosmoWitch from Aunty Marla for your eighth birthday two-and-a half years ago last Monday-"

    Rory struggled to keep up with the rambling girl. She managed to steal a glance at the lush boy in the crowd. He returned her look with a charming smile.

    "-And to Mina Stradodhopulous, Unique's best friend since third grade-"

    Rory looked up again, but this time the good-looking boy had a slim, pale girl with crimson hair and green eyes wrapped around his shoulders. He shrugged and gave Rory another wink before allowing his girlfriend to lead him away.

    This whole incident wouldn't have been so bad were it not for the pretty green-eyed girlfriend turning around and giving Rory the most triumphantly arrogant sneer she'd ever seen in her life.

    "Bitch!" Rory hissed.

    The little girl named Unique gaped in horror.

    "Oh no! Not you," Rory fought to explain while the girl's eyes filled with tears.

    "I meant that other girl! Don't cry, please!"

    "Wh..wha...WHHHAAAAA!!!!"

    The crowd buzzed with shocked voices as Rory desperately tried to calm Unique.

    "Shh! Do you want money? I- I'll pay you, here!"

    

    "WHHAAAAA!!!"

    "Oh, be quiet! Please be quiet," Rory pleaded. "Shh- shut up!"

    "Rory?" Mr. Philips nasal voice cut through all other sounds as he walked over. "Why haven't you changed your outfit? What the hell is going on over here?"

    "I..um..she, er-" Rory looked from Pringle to Unique with what she hoped was utter confusion in her eyes.

    "She- she- whhaaaaa!" screamed Unique.

    "Oh, go home you little shit," Philips snapped.

    Unique was shocked out of her wailing. She snatched the magazine out of Rory's hands and ran away, sniffling.

    Rory hurried into the next set of Quidditch robes, wishing the photo shoot would end. She went outside and mounted the Speed Bird broomstick that Philips shoved into her hands.

    As soon as she touched the handle Rory could feel the broom heat up with eagerness to leave the ground. Rory resisted the sudden impulse to fly away, and she smiled at the camera, although not with nearly as much heart as she had felt before.

    "Mr. Philips," Pringle hissed. "I would advise you NOT-"

    "Not to break your misshapen nose?" Philips said, focusing his camera. "I'm not so sure about that, Pringley. The temptation's coming off you in waves. Now Rory, I want you to just hover above the ground on the Weed Turd as if you're about to catch the Sn-"

    "Philips, God dammit!" screamed Pringle. "You're-"

* * * * *

    Rory smiled and the broom jolted forward. She caught the handle with two hands and kept herself from flying over the front as it bucked a second time.

    Rory had just enough time to see Philips' shocked face before the broom shot towards the sky, with Rory clinging to the handle for dear life.

    The Speed Bird corkscrewed sixty feet up. It swerved, turned, rose and dived in an apparent attempt to buck off it's passenger.

    What the hell is happening? Rory should have been thinking. But instead her line of thought went something like, oh my God am I going to fall?! Would I die if I fell from this height? Not if I landed on that fat kid...oh, that's a newspaper stand! I'm going to die! I'll never go to Hogwarts or get married or- AH! SLIPPING!

    As she desperately gripped the broomstick she was aware of a red something-or-other speeding towards her. A second later the red thing braked beside her, and Rory realized it was a black-haired boy on a broomstick wearing a red sweater.

    "Jump," The boy called over, holding his hand out for her to take.

    "Are you insane!?" Rory screamed. "I'll fall!"

    "Not if I catch you," the boy yelled back. "Jump!"

    "No!"

    The black-haired boy shook his head angrily.

    "Are you stupid or something?"

    "I'm about to die," Rory snarled. "What's your excuse?"

    "I'm doing all I can!" The boy retorted. He stretched his arm out farther.

    Rory couldn't help it; she looked down.

    The bystanders were like tiny insects below them. Rory felt a wave of nausea and looked back to her rescuer.

    His eyes were locked on hers with enough determination to pull them both onto a broomstick. Behind his round glasses they were bright green. Encouraging. Trusting. Accepting.

    Rory nodded. She felt ready to throw up again and decided not to speak. She willed one hand from the broom and reached out for his.

    Suddenly she was caught off guard by another violent jolt and this time she lost hold and plummeted to the ground.

    Rory's hands were open before her, predicting the impact of cobbled street.

    Instead of cold stone Rory felt nothing but air when she stopped falling. She opened her eyes to see she was still thirty feet up. The insects were bigger now, and all were cheering and applauding wildly.

    Rory looked up to see the black-haired boy still on his broomstick, straining with the effort of holding her entire weight by the extra fabric on the back of her robes.

    How the boy managed to lift her onto the back of his broomstick Rory will never know, but she was aware of her feet touching solid ground half a minute later amidst an explosion of cheers.

    Rory regained her balance and turned to her rescuer.

    He had dismounted his broom and ran a hand through his hair with a relieved sigh. Rory saw a scar on his forehead in the distinct shape of a lightning bolt.

    "You're Harry Potter!" she blurted out excitedly.

    Harry looked at her with similar astonishment.

    "You're a.. Malfoy," he said finally. Somehow Rory didn't quite like his tone.

    "Rory!" Mr. Philips ran over with Pringle at his heels. "You almost died!"

    "I told you not to use that broom!" Pringle huffed. "I said there were new features-"

    "I thought you were rambling on about little bells and built-in whistles," Philips said irritably. "Not invisible homicide buttons! You could have cost me a model!"

    Rory couldn't stop staring. It was the Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the conqueror of the Dark Lord. He's an international hero. An idol. He's... skinny. His hair is messy.. and his clothes are baggy.

    Harry cleared his throat loudly, although he was looking everywhere but at Rory.

    Four years of etiquette school hit her in the head like a Bludger.

    "I'm sorry," Rory said, and performed a lopsided curtsy that nearly knocked her off balance. "I'm Rory Malfoy."

    Harry was too surprised to laugh, so he settled with a nod.

    Rory left a sufficient break for Harry to speak. He said nothing, so she went ahead.

    "I suppose I should thank you.."

    She paused again to allow Harry to dismiss her offer.

    Harry wondered why she continued to trail off into silence then realized she expected him to say something.

    "Oh-" Harry straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest.

    "Go ahead."

    Rory blinked.

    "You're not supposed to say that," she said quietly.

    A confused glint passed across Harry's emerald eyes.

    "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know someone had passed around scripts."

    "No," Rory explained hastily. "I meant you aren't supposed to accept my gratitude so easily."

    "Why not?" demanded Harry. "I risked my neck trying to save you."

    "It's bad manners," Rory replied shortly.

    "Now I'm getting a lesson in manners from a Malfoy," Harry muttered bitterly.

    "Pardon me?" Rory inquired.

    "Nothing," Harry said, looking up. "Listen, I'm glad you're all right and now I'm going to look for my friends. I need to shop for my school things."

    "Ooh!" Rory exclaimed. "You must go to Hogwarts! I'm going there this year also. Are you in fifth year? Wait, let's see.. you defeated the Dark Lord when you were one.. that was fourteen years ago, so- yes. You are in fifth year."

    Harry didn't know how to reply to this. What do you say to someone who just calculated your age by the most horrific event of your life?

    Rory Malfoy expected to him to say something. Her great gray eyes combined with her large white smile to form a sort of super-anticipating cartoon character.

    "Goodbye," Harry said.

    "Wait!" Rory called, following him. He turned around slowly, knowing what was coming.

    "Can't I come with you? I need to shop for my school things, too."

    Harry looked around for his friends, but no one came to his rescue.

    "Please?" Rory said, smiling again.

    Harry spoke, knowing he would regret it later,

    "Okay."