Harry Potter and the Lost Prophecy

Chapter Six:

Sex, Lies and Quick Quotes Quills

It was early the next morning when Harry stepped out of the fireplace, and looked around the Leaky Cauldron cautiously. Thankfully the horrible reporter who had accosted him the last time he was there was not in sight. Breathing a sigh of relief, he hurried over to where Fred and George were standing. They had their heads close together and were discussing something excitedly. Harry was unsure about whether he should bother them but they both looked up and smiled as they saw him approaching.

"We're talking about the money you gave us last year." Fred said conspiratorially.

Harry smiled. He'd given the twins the thousand Galleons prize money he'd won from the Triwizard Tournament last year. He'd figured that the money was going to a good cause.

"We invested it, with a little help from Bill, and it's tripled over the summer!" George said excitedly, "So we thought that after we'd gotten Ron the new dress robes like you asked last year, that we'd get him a new broom too."

"After all, if he's going to be our new Chaser he'll need a good broom." Fred added with a grin.

Harry grinned and was about to reply when Ron walked over to meet them. George gave Harry a wink, and the twins disappeared into the crowd just before their brother reached the table.

"What was that about?" Ron asked, glancing around at the throng of people, milling about.

"Oh, nothing," Harry said breezily. Hermione and Ginny were hurrying towards them, followed closely by Mrs. Weasley.

"Come on kids, we're leaving now," Mrs. Weasley said, ushering them out into Diagon Alley. "Now, who needs what?" she asked looking with dismay down the alley, which seemed to be full of people. "Oh dear" she added to herself, "Perhaps we shouldn't have waited so long to get your things - just look at this crowd!"

Hermione turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Harry and I ordered our robes already, so we just need to pick them up. Then all we need to get are the special Potions ingredients and our books."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at her in relief, "Well then, why don't you and Harry go to the apothecary and pick up everyone's Potions ingredients, then you can meet us at Madam Malkin's. And we can all go to Flourish and Blotts together."

* * *

A half-hour later Harry and Hermione were fighting their way through the crowd that was still milling along Diagon Alley.

"What on earth is going on?" Hermione asked, annoyed.

Harry shrugged, then turned and asked a middle-aged wizard who was standing nearby the same question.

"There's a new broomstick at Quality Quidditch Supplies," the wizard explained. "It's supposed to be the best model ever."

He turned to look at Harry and his eyes lingered on the telltale scar. "Say," he began, "You're not--"

But Harry was already pulling Hermione by the hand, leading her towards the store. Spotting a shock of red hair through the crowd he pushed his way over to where Fred and George were standing with Charlie. They were standing right at the front of the crowd, looking at a window display of one of the most amazing brooms Harry had ever seen.

"What's going on?" a voice in his ear asked, and he turned to see Ron standing at his shoulder.

Before Harry could reply Ron was pushing past him, a look of amazement on his face.

Ron pressed his nose to the window and began to read the small placard in front of the broom.

"The Twigger 100 - New from Flyte and Barker:

This limited edition racing broom combines speed capabilities of up to one hundred and thirty miles per hour with patented Sens-O-Matic handling to ensure the smoothest ride available in the market today. Broom aficionados everywhere will be appreciate its superior auto-braking system, as well as its patented warning whistle to alert the rider to approaching danger. No more then one thousand models will be circulated, ensuring that the Twigger 100 will be a welcome addition to sporting team and collector alike. A Quality Quidditch Supplies exclusive. Price available upon request."

The broom was completely black, except for the silver lettering on its handle. Clearly the broom was designed with one purpose in mind- that of making the owner smug, and the beholder green with envy.

Ron made a small moan of longing, and moved forwards like a man possessed. Or more accurately like a man who wanted to possess. Harry suspected that Ron would have run into the store if he and Hermione had not grabbed his arms and pulled him backwards.

A few people had entered the shop to enquire over the price, but had returned, pale and in shock (and in one wizard's case, apparently suffering from a coronary). The crowd began to disperse and soon the alley was its normal bustling self.

"Well, I think some of us need to sit down." Hermione said, staring pointedly at Ron, who was gazing enraptured towards the broom display.

Harry took Ron's arm and led him to a nearby bench.

"Wow!" Ron said, "Did you see that broom? It was amazing!" He gazed back at the store wistfully. "I wish..."

Fred and George hurried over to them, each carrying a long bulky package.

"We know it's not a Firebolt, or the latest Twigger," Fred said with a smile, "But we bought these for you and Ginny."

They handed over the parcels, which were quickly unwrapped. Inside were Nimbus 2001's.

"Wow guys!" Ron said, smiling more broadly than Harry had ever seen before. "Thanks!"

"How on earth did you ever pay for these" Ginny asked, grinning happily.

"That's what I'd like to know." Mrs. Weasley said, folding her arms and giving her twin sons a suspicious look.

Fred glanced nervously at Harry. "We, umm, we had some savings..." he began lamely.

Mrs. Weasley caught the look towards Harry, and sighed.

"We'll discuss this later," she said, giving Harry a small smile. "Now, you two, we picked up your robes," she said, nodding towards himself and Hermione. "What say we go collect your books?"

As they headed into Flourish and Blotts, Hermione pulled out a list, smiling happily. Here she was in her element. Ron groaned and trailed behind her, as she called out items from the list.

"Ok, we all need The Standard Book of Spells - Grade 5. And you should really get a copy of Hogwarts, a History..."

Harry rolled his yes. Ron caught him, grinned, and then pretended to hang himself. Harry gave in to temptation, and laughed.

* * *

Harry browsed the shelves of Flourish and Blotts. He and Ron had found and purchased their textbooks within the first five minutes of entering the store. Now, almost an hour later they were waiting impatiently for Hermione, who had disappeared to search for an obscure volume for her ever growing collection of obscure and boring books. He reached out and pulled a book at random from the shelf.

'So You Want to be an Evil Overlord?' by Elvis Nagel

He flicked through the pages, and was absorbed in a particularly interesting section on Grindelwald when he was hit by what felt like a rather large Bludger.

"Watch where you're going!" an irate voice exclaimed. Harry picked himself off the floor, a retort on the tip of his tongue

"Oh, it's you," Draco Malfoy drawled, his voice laden with contempt. "I expect you were too busy thinking about your fame and fortune to notice a mere mortal like myself."

"I think you'll find that you walked into me," Harry replied testily. "I, on the other hand, was quite innocently reading my book." He indicated the text where it lay open on the floor. Draco stooped and quickly picked it up, flipping it shut to read the title.

"Thinking of switching sides, Potter?" he asked with a smirk. "Tempted by the Dark Lord's power?"

"Speaking of the Dark Side," a voice said over Harry's shoulder, "Where were you and your parents last night Malfoy? Out murdering a few Muggles for fun?"

Draco's face darkened for a moment as Ron stepped up beside Harry, then it broke into a sly grin.

"Weasel! What a pleasant surprise!" Draco responded, obviously choosing to ignore Ron's comment. "All we need now is the beaver toothed Mudblood and it'd be a party!"

Ron flushed with anger and he moved as if to step forward and grab Draco around the neck. Harry put a hand up to stop him.

"What do you want Malfoy?" he asked in disdain.

Draco ignored him and turned to Ron. "Speaking of Granger, have you seen the Daily Prophet this morning, Weasel?"

Ron shook his head hesitantly, giving the Slytherin boy a wary look. Draco smiled, pulling a rolled up copy from his pocket.

"Here." He threw the parchment to Ron, who shot him a suspicious look and unrolled it slowly.

"So Potter, where is your little girlfriend?" Draco continued.

"Who?" Harry asked, confused.

"Oops!" Draco said, covering his mouth with his hand and smiling innocently, "I forgot, Weasel doesn't know, does he?" He smiled again.

Harry frowned at Draco, confused.

"It really is rather naughty of you, Potter," Draco said, shaking his head in mock disapproval, "Shagging one best friend behind the other's back. So unlike a Gryffindor. I doubt even I would stoop so low!" He cocked his head in thought, "No, scratch that, I could easily stoop that low, though not with someone like your bushy haired Granger."

Harry was staring at Draco, slack-jawed in surprise.

"What the hell are you going on about, you disgusting prat!"

"Now, now, no need for name calling!" Draco said, shaking a finger at Harry. "After all, you're the one pathetic enough to shag a dirty Mudblood."

Harry was on the verge of jumping forward and wringing Draco's neck when Ron shoved the paper in front of his face.

"Is it true?" Ron asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Harry grabbed the parchment. The front page held a large moving photo of himself and Hermione. It had obviously been taken at the Leaky Cauldron a few days ago, while they were eating dinner. Hermione was leaning across the table, holding Harry close. Even Harry had to admit it looked like they were snogging. He read the headline and closed his eyes, grimacing.

'The Boy Who Loved- Harry Potter's Secret Romance.' He absently noticed that the writer was Veruca Savage.

"Explain," Ron said flatly.

"We were hugging," Harry responded heatedly after a moment's pause, "It's a perfectly normal thing to do." He was beginning to get worked up. Ron was being ridiculous. He blew every thing out of proportion. "Stop over-reacting!"

"Over-reacting?" Ron said, his voice rising in volume as he spoke, "Over-reacting?! How am I supposed to act when I discover my two best friends are going at it like rabbits and every one knows but me! How could you!?" His face was so red with anger that it matched his hair.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Calm down, you idiot!" he hissed, "You're acting exactly the way Malfoy wants you to act. And how could you think so little of us?"

"It's called trust, Ron," another voice piped up.

The three boys turned in surprise to where Hermione stood, arms folded and glaring alternately between Ron and Draco. Ginny stood behind her, blushing and avoiding Harry's eyes.

"What?" Ron asked furiously.

"Trust. It's what friends usually share. It's there so people don't believe every lie they read and jump about accusing their friends of stupid things!" Hermione retorted, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Give me the paper," she commanded.

Ron handed it to her, looking slightly abashed. She seized it and began to read.

"What a load of old tosh!" she exclaimed as she scanned the article, "Listen to this:

" 'Mr. Potter, having ignored the advice of his well wishers, was once again seen in the company of ambitious Muggle-born Hermione Granger. The pair appeared to be sharing an intimate dinner, but were more than happy to pose for photos and a quick chat this Daily Prophet reporter.

"We're ecstatically happy!" Miss Granger announced last week.

"I truly love Harry and although we've kept our relationship a secret in the past, we are now ready to show our love to the world!"

The teen lovers have been linked in the past, but have always denied anything more than a friendship and have kept their romance a secret from all, even their mutual best friend, Ronald Weasley, son of Arnold Weasley, head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

In the past, his well wishers here at the Daily Prophet have warned the young hero against Miss Granger, who appears to have dubious intentions, having dated Bulgarian Quidditch star Viktor Krum and the late Cedric Diggory in the past year.

However, after Mr Diggory's death during the Triwizard Tournament, perhaps it is Miss Granger who deserves our warnings.

Details of Mr Diggory's death are still unconfirmed, although we here at the Prophet are highly suspicious of Mr Potter's involvement with this incident. Perhaps his quick temper and jealousy led to such an event and thus we advise Miss Granger to be on her guard.' "

"Well, really," Hermione said, rolling up the paper and handing it back to Malfoy with a little more force than necessary. "Those Quick Quote Quills should be banned! Making up rubbish about people. Surely that's libel! I hardly even knew Cedric! And implying Harry's a danger to me! How ridiculous! Last year he was being warned about me! And you!" she exclaimed, turning on Ron who looked rather scared, "How could you believe those lies! And to react that way without even talking to the both of us first! I never suspected such low behaviour from you, Ron! It's no less than what I'd expect from you though," she said to Draco, who took a step back as she turned her flashing eyes on him.

The Slytherin boy smirked. "It seems my work here is done. Father's waiting for me now, if you'll excuse me." Draco gave a mock bow in Hermione's direction. "Best of luck sorting out your tangled love-life, Mudblood."

Hermione glared at his retreating back then turned to her friends, smiling.

"Oh really! You should see your face Harry! It's so funny!" She burst into hysterical laughter.

Ron and Harry looked at each other.

"Mad," Ron said emphatically, shaking his head slowly. Harry nodded.

"I'm sorry about that," Ron said, staring at his shoes, "I don't know why I reacted like that."

Harry thought he had a pretty good idea why his best friend had reacted the way he had, but now didn't seem the best time to express his thoughts.

"S'okay," he replied with a shrug, "It's that git Malfoy's fault. Trying to get us mad at each other. Let's just forget about it." They turned to Hermione, who appeared to have calmed down a little.

"Do you have all your books?" Ron asked her.

She nodded, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. Then she headed through the aisles to the front of the shop, Ron following close behind her.

"Are- are you okay?" Ginny asked hesitantly as she and Harry followed slowly behind. Harry looked at her in surprise. It was uncharacteristic for Ginny to talk to him voluntarily. She'd always admired him from afar, which, although slightly creepy had been strangely comforting. But whenever he talked to her she would blush furiously and then run away.

"Uh, yeah," Harry replied.

"I just thought it might bother you, all these articles."

Harry shook his head. "It bothered me at first, but there's nothing I can do about them so it's easier to just ignore it. Besides, everyone who matters knows the truth." He paused, and then smiled down at her. "You don't believe them, do you?"

Ginny coloured and shook her head.

They walked in silence out of the shop, and down the Alley, following behind Hermione and the other Weasleys.

As they strolled along Harry glanced at the various shops. Suddenly he stopped, an idea slowly forming in his mind.

Ginny had kept walking, but hurried back to his side when she noticed that he was gone.

"I've just got something important to do," he informed her, "You go on ahead, and tell the others I'll catch up. I'll only be a few minutes." She nodded and hurried after her family.

Harry turned and walked towards the shop. He'd had a half formed idea swimming around his head for a few months now, and it was time to put the plan into action.

* * *

The shop bell tinkled loudly as Harry pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He gazed around the dingy shop, wistfully, remembering how simple his life had been the last time he'd been there. The memory of that day came so quickly it was as if it had only been yesterday.

"No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

He had tried dozens of wands before Mr Ollivander had handed him a wand that felt...right.

He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls...

"Mr Potter," a soft voice behind him broke through his reverie.

Harry jumped. He turned to face the owner of the voice, who also happened to be the owner of the shop. Mr. Ollivander's silvery eyes stared back at him, open wide in surprise.

"Surely you can't need a replacement wand already?" the old man asked, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Such a remarkable wand it was too...holly I believe? Yes, yes, that's it, nice and supple, eleven inches...phoenix feather core..." he trailed off, raising his eyebrows at Harry questioningly.

Harry shook his head. "I don't need a replacement," he said, "My wand's fine."

He paused, and then said quickly, "I need another wand."

Whatever Mr. Ollivander had expected him to say, that wasn't it.

"Another wand?" he asked, as if Harry had just asked him for a stoat. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

Harry frowned "It's important!" he said emphatically, "You don't understand. I really need another wand. I need another weapon."

Mr. Ollivander now looked as if he'd been asked for a lightly grilled stoat in a bun with French fries. He stood amazed.

Then he sank down into a chair behind the counter, realisation dawning on his face.

"Ah," he said slowly, giving Harry a penetrating look, "This is because of Priori Incantatem, isn't it?"

Harry looked at the older man in surprise. "Dumbledore told you?" he asked hesitantly. He'd never fully trusted Ollivander, and for all Harry knew he could have been one of the Death Eaters present that night.

"Of course," Ollivander said, with a sad smile, "Such a loss, that young Diggory boy. Such potential. I remember when he was in here buying his wand--"

"Okay!" Harry said a little too loudly, cutting Ollivander off. He couldn't listen to stories of Cedric. He couldn't listen to anecdotes of a boy who would never become a man - because of him.

He was silent for a moment then looked up at Ollivander, his eyes pleading.

"I need another wand. You know what happened when the wands were used against each other. I don't want that to happen again. I know that it provides me with some protection for when Voldemort tries to kill me again, but if I want to attack him, or defend someone else against him, I can't. And I can't risk using someone else's wand- you said I wouldn't get the same results with another wizard's wand."

Mr Ollivander nodded sympathetically. "I completely understand Harry, but it simply cannot be done. It's against Ministry law. All old wands must be disposed of- we wouldn't want a wand that has magic residue falling into the hands of a sensitive Muggle, would we?"

Harry stared at the floor dejectedly.

"I didn't know there was a law against it," he said quietly. He smiled apologetically at Mr. Ollivander, who brightened suddenly.

"Although...hmm, it's a possibility," the old man muttered to himself, reaching under the counter and pulling out a huge dust covered book. Harry just glimpsed the title - 'Diagon Alley Proprietors Guide- How to Avoid Ending Up in Azkaban'- before Ollivander flipped it open to a bookmarked section. The old man ran his finger down the page.

"Ah hah!" he said, and then read from the text. "A wizard may not purchase a new wand when his current wand is still in working order." He looked up at Harry, grinning.

"How does that help?" Harry asked, wondering, not for the first time, if Ollivander was a few Knuts short of a Galleon.

"Follow me!" Ollivander said, slamming the book closed.

A huge cloud of dust flew into the air, causing Harry to cough fitfully. As the dust re-settled he saw that Mr. Ollivander's retreating form was heading towards the back of the shop. Harry paused, once again having misgivings. Was it safe? Mr. Ollivander disappeared from sight, and Harry sighed loudly before hurrying after him.

He found him in the shadowy depths of the shop, perusing a tall oak cabinet. There were numerous small drawers in the cabinet, each labelled with random letters, numbers and symbols. After a moment of pondering, Ollivander drew open a long drawer. Inside was a rather plain looking wand. It was obviously well worn: Harry could see a few smudged fingerprints at one end, but it was otherwise in impeccable condition. Mr. Ollivander lifted it slowly, gazing down at it with a sad expression on his face. Then he turned and handed it to Harry.

"Give it a wave then!" he said.

Harry waved the wand, remembering how stupid he had felt doing this, the last time he'd been in the shop. White flowers appeared in the wands wake, shimmering slightly before disappearing. Harry stared at the flowers. Lilies. He felt a queasy feeling in his stomach and turned to the man next to him.

Ollivander answered the unasked question in Harry's eyes. "Yes, Harry. It belonged to your mother."

He had that nostalgic look again. "Ten and a quarter inches. Willow, pleasantly swishy. Dragon Heartstring core - from a rather fiery tempered Welsh Green if I remember correctly. A beautiful wand for charms."

He pointed at a book lying on top of the cabinet. "Give it a try."

Harry took a deep breath. His mother's wand! His hand grew sweaty as he clutched the end. He was holding yet another object his mother had held. And this was something that held her essence! Her magic was in this wand the way it had been in him, protecting him. He felt a warm rush of comfort and smiled.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he cried, and with a swish and flick that Hermione would have been proud of, the book levitated smoothly into the air. He directed it around the room, and then re-settled it onto the cabinet. It was such a rush, the amazing feeling of power that he felt, a ghost of power next to his own. He turned suddenly to Mr. Ollivander, his euphoria fading.

"I can't use this! If I buy it, I'll be breaking the law!" He frowned, disappointment showing clearly on his face. His mother's wand, and he couldn't use it!

"Ah my dear boy!" Mr. Ollivander said with a smile, "As always, there is a loophole in the law. Firstly- this isn't a new wand. It's completely used. The only reason it hasn't been destroyed is because Dumbledore placed it in my care many years ago. Second, the law says you may not purchase a wand. You have no need to purchase it, as it is yours by right."

Harry looked down at the wand in his hand, then back up at Mr. Ollivander.

Then he smiled.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Hermione scolded as Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron and slid into the seat next to Ron.

"I had an errand to run," he explained with a shrug.

Hermione opened her mouth to continue grilling him, but Ron interrupted her.

"Look, it's Professor Lupin!"

They jumped up and hurried over to where their former Professor sat at the bar, nursing a tankard of mulled mead.

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

Lupin looked up in surprise. He appeared to have drunk a fair amount, as he regarded the three teenagers with confusion. His eyes raked over Harry's face and he brightened considerably.

"Harry!" he said, smiling. "How- how are you?"

Harry smiled back. Lupin had been one of his favourite professors. And he'd also been friends with his father and Sirius at Hogwarts. "We're okay."

"Are you coming back to Hogwarts?" Ron asked eagerly.

Lupin shuffled nervously in his seat. "Uh, I'm not sure," he replied.

He jumped up suddenly, glancing over Harry's shoulder.

"I've got to go...urgent appointment...I hope to see you again soon."

He grasped Harry's hand and shook it. Harry shuddered slightly, then frowned to himself. Why was Lupin acting so strangely? He watched the Professor hurry away into the crowd, then turned to greet the Weasleys who were walking over from behind him.

"We should probably go," Mrs. Weasley said, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Harry followed her gaze and saw Veruca Savage pushing her way through the crowd.

He scowled, and then smiled when he saw identical expressions on both of his friends' faces. Together the made their way over to the fireplace, struggling under the weight of their school supplies, and Floo'ed back to the Burrow, much to Veruca's disgust.