Secrets of the Animagi

Chapter 5 - Univited

Harry and Hermione arrived at the Leaky Cauldron in the early afternoon. Harry could see that no matter how proud they were of Hermione, her parents were distinctly uncomfortable during their short visits to the wizarding world. After confirming arrangements with Tom, Mrs. Granger hugged the young witch and wizard, reminding them to send Hedwig if there was an emergency.

"Are you sure you don't want us to stay?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"We'll be fine, Mum. There'll be other Hogwarts families here tonight," replied Hermione. Unfortunately, the Weasleys would not be among them. However, the Finnegan and Thomas families were due to arrive that evening.

"We'll see you at Christmas then. Harry, we expect to see you, too."

"Yes, Mrs. Granger. Goodbye."

While Harry and Hermione had been saying their good-byes to the Grangers, Tom had taken the trunks and animal cages to their rooms. "The alley shops are closed to underage wizards at five o'clock. Don't be late returnin', or I'll catch it with the Ministry," warned Tom as he handed them the keys to their rooms. Harry looked forward to the afternoon among the colourful shops.

But first, they needed money. Gringotts provided its usual thrilling ride through the mazelike tunnels. This time, Harry insisted that Hermione accompany him. He didn't think that anyone could look more nauseous than Hagrid had during Harry's first trip; he was wrong. Hermione was miserable, sinking as far down into the cart as possible. "We're here," Harry said as the cart came to a sudden stop. He leapt out of the cart and waited patiently while the goblin escort unlocked the Potter vault. Hermione stayed seated; she was still trying to catch her breath. A full moneybag and another hair-raising ride later, they had returned to the main hall of Gringotts. It was time for Hermione to exchange her parents' Muggle money at the counter that ran the length of the hall.

"153 Galleons and 57 Sickles. Your exchange fee came to 23 Galleons and 5 Knuts," said the goblin clerk as he handed a bag of coins to Hermione. Harry thought the fee was exorbitant, but he remained silent. Hermione was apparently resigned to the exchange rates.

"Next!" called the goblin.

Being the only one left in line, Harry stepped up to the counter. "I would like to inquire about my account balance and interest," he told the clerk.

"All inquiries were to be filed yesterday. Take this," said the goblin as he handed Harry a small, ornately decorated scroll. "Mind you read it."

Harry unrolled it carefully and read the first sentence aloud, "Account holders unconditionally, and without exception, agree that all inquiries are to be made in writing on the third Thursday following Gnashgrik. Gnashgrik?"

"Next!" called the goblin. Harry had been dismissed.

"Come on, Harry, everyone is starting to stare," whispered Hermione as she tugged on his arm.

Harry continued to read the scroll as they walked. It made less and less sense; each rule was more hopelessly convoluted than the last. "Hermione, would you happen to know about Gnashgrik?"

"Hmm. I think Professor Binns may have included it on the last exam. However, it must have been one of the optional essays. I wrote about Uric the Oddball and his research, instead. Maybe we'll be able to find something in the-"

"Library," finished Harry. "Never mind then. What does our list say about robes?"

"Apparently we need another set of dress robes," said Hermione. "Do you mind if we try Gladrags?"

Gladrags Wizardwear was a much more colourful store than Madam Malkin's, where Harry usually shopped. He felt out of place among the racks of colourful garments. Mrs. Weasley had spared him a trip last summer, when he had stayed at the Burrow, but now there was no reprieve.

"What do you think, Harry?" asked Hermione as she stepped out of a fitting room. She was on her fourth robe, very unusual for someone who normally preferred books to couture.

"Nice."

"You said that about the last three."

"And I meant it, really. Have you decided yet?" Harry was definitely feeling fidgety.

"Keep your hair on. I think this is the one. Let's see yours."

"Er, this one," said Harry as he absentmindedly grabbed a robe from the rack.

"I don't think pink is your colour," said Hermione with a smirk.

Harry looked at the robe. It was so garish; it put Ludo Bagman's robes to shame. He was sure Pansy Parkinson would snap it up if she were to walk in. Sure enough, there she was at his elbow.

"Thanks, Potter. Not your colour, by the way. I'd go with puce," said Pansy as she grabbed the robe out of his hands. Harry noted that she still looked like a pug.

A sales clerk walked up with several robes for Harry. "If you don't mind my saying so, these would go just right with your eyes," said the clerk, blushing. Harry figured she wasn't much older than twenty.

"Just right with your eyes," mimicked Pansy as she flounced off to the nearest fitting room.

Harry selected one at random. He noted that the garment was self-altering, not something he was likely to find at Madam Malkin's. "If you're finished, Hermione, I'd like to leave before Pansy returns," he said. He had no trouble convincing Hermione.

After stopping in Magical Menagerie to purchase treats for Hedwig, Crookshanks and Rufus and in a grimy apothecary to replish their potion ingredients, it was on to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Mr. Fortescue served the best ice cream in Diagon Alley, in addition to being an expert on Wizarding history.

"Here you go, Harry, your favourite Peanut Butter and Strawberry Supreme Sundae. And a Lemon Chiffon for you, Miss."

"Thanks, Mr. Fortescue," Harry and Hermione said in unison.

"Enjoy your treats. I'll be back in a twinkling," said Mr. Fortescue, as he turned to serve the next table. The crowd at the shop was growing quickly. So quickly, in fact that Hermione and Harry soon had to share their table with new arrivals.

"Hello, Neville, Mrs. Longbottom," said Hermione pleasantly.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't notice it was you," said Neville. He was looking a bit distracted, glancing furtively at the occupants of all the tables.

"Is there a problem?" asked Harry.

"Pansy," said Neville with a groan. "She showed up when I was purchasing my new books."

"Neville!" Neville's grandmother appeared to be in a very foul mood.

"Sorry, Gran. I'll introduce you, shall I?" Neville nervously introduced his grandmother to Harry and Hermione.

"You aren't friends of the Pansy creature, are you? The wench stepped on my foot!" Mrs. Longbottom took a sharp breath. Before she could say more, Hermione assured her that she and Harry were in no way associated with Pansy.

"Alright then, but mind you behave yourselves, there's a prefect at the table," Mrs. Longbottom said with a faint hint of pride.

Just then, Harry remembered that Neville had indeed been selected. "I almost forgot. Congratulations, Neville!"

"Yes, congratulations, Neville," said Hermione suddenly. "If you'll excuse us, Harry and I must finish our shopping. Good to see you." Hermione left a few Sickles on the table for Mr. Fortescue and picked up her bags. Neville looked disappointed to see them go. Apparently, he hadn't much in the way of pleasant companionship that day.

Harry waited until they were out of earshot to speak to Hermione. "Did you have to be in such a hurry, Hermione? I wanted to ask Mr. Fortescue about the Gringotts scroll."

"Harry, you know he was too busy. Besides, we only have until five o'clock."

If I didn't know better, I'd say you're snubbing Neville because he's the new prefect." Harry was unable to pursue the matter further as Hermione had already entered Flourish and Blotts.

Hermione approached the counter, looking for the manager. "Excuse me, can you help us?"

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes sir, fifth year, but our list is blank."

"Ah. Well then, I can't help you," said the manager.

"Certainly, it must be a mistake."

"That's the seventh time I've heard that today. Whinge, whinge, whinge. Professor McGonagall never makes a mistake. Now, if you excuse me-" The manager disappeared into a back room, oblivious to Hermione's continued sputtering.

"Hermione," began Harry. She was staring at all the Hogwarts students carrying piles of new books to the sales counter.

"That makes absolutely no sense. What's a year without books?"

"Lighter. Can we go now? We're holding up the queue."

"But-"

"No. We've got just enough time for one more shop." Now, it was Harry's turn to steer. He led Hermione out of Flourish and Blotts and into a shop a few doors away. The sign read Sparkle Bros. Jewellery & Timepieces, D. Diggle, Proprietor.

"Mr. Potter, what a pleasure to see you in my humble shop!" Daedelus Diggle was no stranger to Harry. They had officially met in the Leaky Cauldron four years before, although Harry had seen him at least once on a Muggle street. "How may I be of service," he asked as he bobbed on his toes.

Harry drew his watch out of his pocket and placed in on the counter. "Could you tell me about this watch? It was a birthday present from a family friend." Harry wasn't sure if he should mention Mrs. Figg. He didn't want to reveal her whereabouts without her permission.

"Oh, that's a fine piece! Fine piece, indeed, Mr. Potter. An Auror's Watch, this is. I haven't seen one of this quality for a very long time." Mr. Diggle looked impressed as he gently opened and closed the watchcase.

"Could you tell me how to use the extra hands?"

"Well, Mr. Potter, they're for anything the owner wishes, within reason of course. It wouldn't do to have me set your watch, then they would be my wishes wouldn't they? Let me think, now. Could you wait here for a minute or two?" Mr. Diggle stepped into the back room. Harry could hear him opening and closing drawers and leafing through papers. It seemed to take a very long time. Was his watch that rare an item?

Mr. Diggle returned several minutes later. "Here we go, Mr. Potter. Instructions for the FMF Auror's Watch. See! I knew I had a set. Still has the seal, and everything. We haven't carried your model in ages, of course. The makers retired their business about fifteen years ago or thereabouts. He handed Harry a thick parchment envelope sealed with green wax.

"How much do I owe you, Mr. Diggle?"

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Potter. My pleasure, indeed," said Mr. Diggle with a bow.

Harry was taken aback by the display. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione looking curiously from him to Mr. Diggle and back again. Harry thanked Mr. Diggle and left the shop with Hermione.

"Mr. Diggle knows you?"

"He's always known me, Hermione. I'm The Boy Who Lived, remember? It would have made Ron ill to see that, wouldn't it have?"

"Probably," said Hermione with a grin. "But I like being in such esteemed company now and then."

They reached the passage to the Leaky Cauldron and opened the wall with a tap of their wands. They checked in with the innkeeper before proceeding to their rooms. They didn't want old Tom to be worried. It was certain to be a busy night for him, as wizarding families were already starting to arrive at the pub.

Harry unlocked the door to his room. It was a few doors down the hall from Hermione's. After putting his shopping bags on the bed, he checked on Rufus and Hedwig. The owl hooted softly and took a short flight around the room after Harry opened her cage. Rufus, apparently, had been asleep all afternoon. The cat opened one eye as Harry unlatched the carrier.

"Need to stretch, Rufus?" Harry removed the water dishes from the cages and refilled them from the pitcher on the bureau. Rufus stretched and yawned, and then leapt onto the bed and sniffed the shopping bags. Harry heard the rustle of paper and turned to see Rufus' tail protruding from the Magical Menagerie bag.

"Rufus! Some of those are for-"

Rufus popped his head out of the bag. Harry could see there was nothing left inside it.

"Hedwig," Harry said with a sigh. "Well, I don't think you'll need much feeding after all, will you?" He threw himself on the bed and scratched the cat behind the ears. Rufus responded with a loud purr.

Apparently unruffled by the loss of fresh owl treats, Hedwig hooted at Harry again. Someone was knocking at his door. Reluctantly, he got to his feet and opened the door. It was Hermione. She had used her time wisely and had washed and changed for dinner. It made Harry feel very scruffy all of a sudden.

"Could you meet me downstairs in a few minutes? Maybe ask Tom for a table?"

"Certainly, Harry," said Hermione. She turned and walked down the hallway. Harry watched her for a moment and then closed the door. Harry opened his trunk and seached for some fresh clothes. Unfortunately, he had packed them underneath all the rest of his belongings. Thinking ahead to the following day, he took out two sets of Muggle clothing so that he wouldn't have to go through the same process in the morning. After changing, he washed at the basin and attempted to brush his hair.

"Still a loosing battle, my boy," wheezed the mirror.

Shrugging at his reflection, Harry left the room, being careful to lock the door. He doubted the other guests would be pleased to find Rufus in their rooms. He nearly collided with Tom on the stairs.

"Terribly sorry, Mr. Potter. I was just coming to find you."

"Is there anything wrong?" Harry automatically grasped the wand hidden in his pocket. Underage magic restrictions or no, it was a permanent part of his wardrobe.

"Oh no. Nothing terrible, that is. It's just that your friends' families won't be joining you tonight. It seems they've changed their reservations to one of those posh Muggle hotels. Seems Mrs. Thomas didn't quite take a liking to the other guests on her last visit. I warned her not to ask the hags what they were having for dinner. Merlin save me from curious Muggles!" Tom paused to take a breath. "Well, there you have it, Mr. Potter. You and Miss Granger will be on your own this evening. Hope your rooms are to your liking. Shall I wake you in the morning, then?"

"Yes, Tom that will be fine. I hope we won't be any trouble."

"Ah, no trouble at all." Tom dropped his voice to a whisper. "If you ask me, the new restrictions are malarkey, pure and simple. Ol' Fudge is getting too big for his boots."

Harry smiled at Tom's remark. With the exception of Dumbledore and a few others, there weren't many wizards who admitted distaste for the Ministry policies. With a nod to Tom, Harry continued down the stairs and into the pub's dining room. Hermione was waiting for him at a table in a corner. She was absent-mindedly nibbling on a salad while reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry apologized for his lateness and sat down at the table.

"Pardon me for starting without you, Harry, but you were gone quite awhile." Hermione carefully folded her paper and put it aside.

"I should have checked the time. Anything new?" Harry nodded at the paper.

Hermione shook her head. "Just the usual. I took the liberty of ordering dinner for you. Hope you like liver." Hermione's smile contained just a hint of mischief. .

"You've spoken with Tom, I see."

"Of course. I sent him to find you. I thought I was going to waste away."

Before Harry could reply in kind, Tom arrived with their dinner. Harry was relieved to see it was not liver, as Hermione had threatened. Instead, she had ordered roast chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans. Contentedly munching, Harry chided himself for even thinking about ordering his usual shepherd's pie.

Once they had finished, Tom cleared their plates. Hermione, noting that the day had been stressful (for her, at least), prescribed chocolate cake for dessert. Harry wasn't about to argue; her selections so far had been superb. While they were waiting for Tom to return, Harry spied a familiar figure entering the pub. The other patrons were also staring at the late arrival as he walked toward the corner table. Harry looked at Hermione; her face was pale and she looked faintly nauseous. Apparently, this was not a good surprise.

"Hello, Herm-own-ninny," he said expectantly.

Viktor Krum had returned to England.