Bring the Rain
by Jardyn39
Chapter 10: Socks
The "Extra" edition of the Quibbler arrived at dawn the next day just as Harry was making tea for Mr Granger and himself.
He opened the rolled up magazine but didn't open its pages. He placed it on the kitchen table with the much enlarged photograph of the Knight and Serpent motif emblazed on the front.
Harry wondered what the reaction would be. Many people, like himself, would have no idea what it represented.
Mr Granger came into the kitchen yawning widely.
"Morning," said Harry with a smile.
"Mmmn," replied Mr Granger, heading straight for his tea.
"That's better," he continued. "I said we were going to get some shelving materials, so we should be in the clear for a couple of hours."
"Oh, I told Hermione we were getting some more paint."
Mr Granger looked at him uneasily for a moment, but then said, "Well, it's not like we need permission to go out, is it?"
"I think the side gate is still open," suggested Harry as the sound of someone coming down the stairs reached them.
"Good idea," said Mr Granger, grabbing the car keys.
*
"Harry, this place looks expensive."
Harry pressed the bell push on the side of the door go gain admittance to the jeweller's shop. The loud buzzer sounded and Harry pushed open the door once more.
"Good morning, Sirs," said the manager.
"Hi," said Harry. "I wonder if you could clean my pocket watch?"
"Of course, Sir. It will take a couple of weeks, I'm afraid."
"That's no problem. I'll leave you a telephone number. I'd like you to leave a message when it's ready and Mr Granger here will pick it up for me."
"As you wish, Sir. Is there anything else?"
"Um, yes. I'd like to look at those, please," he said pointing down into one of the display cases.
*
Their next port of call was the library. Hermione had mentioned she needed to return some books that she hadn't been able to resist on their last visit.
Harry found the librarian looking quizzically at a large timber crate in front of her desk.
"Is anything wrong?" asked Harry.
"I'm not sure. I found this box here when I opened up this morning. I've no idea how it got here."
There was an elaborate letter, "E," branded onto the lid.
"Why don't you open it?"
"It won't open. Mrs Bandy should be in later. She usually has something useful in her handbag."
Harry put aside his vision of some old woman with a crowbar in her handbag, and lightly lifted the lid. He felt Grublok's sealing charm dissipate as his fingers touched the timber.
"I think I found the weak point," said Harry casually.
He pulled open the lid fully and the three of them peered inside.
A large envelope was on top of some brown waterproof paper. Harry reached in. The envelope had been sealed with a red wax seal, again with the same elaborate, "E."
Harry handed the letter to the librarian with a smile.
"Should I?" she asked nervously.
"Definitely."
She tore open the envelope and read quickly.
"It's from a Mr Grublok. He's a solicitor. A wealthy client of his died recently and asked for part of his book collection to be donated anonymously to a worthy cause. Mr Grublok says we may either have the books to keep or sell, although he recommends we auction them because some of them are extremely rare. Goodness!"
Mr Granger guided the shocked woman to a seat as Harry reached into the crate and lifted out the top volume.
Edenhardt had told him that these were the only things of value the Ministry hadn't confiscated and destroyed. They had no interest in Muggle artefacts.
The librarian's eyes lit up as Harry gently placed the book before her. She knew at once what it was.
"We'll have to sell them," she whispered. "There's no way we could ever afford to insure these."
Mrs Bandy arrived and came over to enquire what was going on. Her heavy handbag chinked as she placed it on the floor and Harry was utterly convinced she had an entire toolkit in there.
"We were hoping to return some books, but you probably don't want these back now you got those!" joked Mr Granger.
"Oh, I'm afraid we do!" said the librarian with a smile, getting up and returning to her desk.
"Is there someone you can call about these books?" asked Mr Granger seriously. "They really should be stored properly and securely. In fact, you really should have some security here before too many people find out."
"Gosh," she said. "I suppose I should call someone."
"Is there a secure store you could put the crate in for now?"
"Yes, but Mr Smith won't be in until later, and I'm not sure I should let him carry that heavy box what with his back."
"We'll carry the crate for you," offered Mr Granger.
They picked then crate up just six inches from the floor when they were interrupted.
"Wait! Wait!" cried a voice from behind them. "We must have a picture of when it was found!" exclaimed Mrs Bandy, pulling a camera from out of her handbag.
She then insisted that Harry, Mr Granger and the librarian pose beside the crate.
*
Harry groaned seeing the empty cardboard bin in front of him. How on earth could a superstore the size of this run out of gift wrapping paper?
He looked along the row. There was plenty of the more expensive paper left, but that was quite a bit more than he'd budgeted for.
He walked further along, hoping to find something cheaper. Unfortunately the paper got more expensive, not less.
Harry looked around and spotted some children's party things. Perhaps he could find something there.
He went over and scanned the display. Party hats, candles, paper plates, balloons, noise makers, bunting. There! Right at the end of the row were an assortment of paper gift bags. The smallest one would do nicely, and it was only two pounds.
Harry picked one out feeling a little relieved. He had declined Mr Granger's offer to loan him some money and had begun to wonder if he had been a little rash.
He had spent quite a bit in the jewellers, and estimated that he would need around forty pounds for that evening, he hoped. That left him the princely sum of four pounds, one of which had gone into the bucket of the person standing outside collecting for charity.
Harry was on his way to the checkouts when he saw a giant sign suspended over the clothing department. There was obviously a sale on.
He continued on for a few steps, and then decided to return the fancy gift bag. He retraced his steps and soon found himself rummaging around in one of the three enormous baskets. Over his one was a sign saying, "Sale: Socks £1/pair." The next basket was actually better value, but he really didn't need three pairs, even if the price was only two pounds.
Laughing to himself as he picked out a pair with a lurid purple colour, he made for the checkouts once more.
The supermarket had almost twenty checkouts, but only four were actually in operation. He looked down the row and as there appeared to be a queue at the far end and he was right at the other end, he made for the nearest.
Harry found that he converged with a young woman who appeared to have been making the same calculation. Curiously, she was also clutching a pair of socks, although hers were of a more tasteful colour.
He smiled and indicated for her to go in front.
She smiled back at him and nodded. As she placed her socks on the conveyor, she noticed that Harry too was buying socks. She acknowledged this with another nod and a smile before studying the shopper in front of them intently.
The two checkout assistants were sitting back to back as they scanned the goods. In the adjacent isle, the conveyor was now stacked with six giant sized jars of mayonnaise, a dozen bottles of red wine and a single roll of the expensive wrapping paper that Harry couldn't afford. He vaguely wondered what kind of evening the customer was planning for.
The customer in front of them paid for their groceries and they moved forward.
"Ah, soooks," said the cashier with a heavy Scottish accent. "Soooks hav' bin popular t'day!"
The girl in front looked utterly perplexed. It took Harry a moment to realise what she was saying as well. It wasn't helped by the adjacent cashier echoing, "Sooks," in an effort to get the girl to understand. Her heavy northern accent wasn't helping much.
The scanner beeped as the socks were read.
"Four Poonds, please."
Harry started. Four pounds?
"Net," the girl said. "Not correct," she added in a clipped accept.
Rather unhelpfully, the two cashiers exchanged a few more rounds of, "Soooks," and "Sooks," comments at that point.
"I do not understand," she said when at last they'd finished. It sounded like a phrase she had learned to say phonetically. Harry then realised that this was probably as strange to her as it was to him. She had hardly spoken a word, but Harry realised somehow she probably had no or very little English.
Mr Granger, who had obviously wondered what was holding Harry up, walked up on the other side of the checkouts.
"Vone pound," she said. "Basket socks vone pound."
Harry was almost at the point of leaving the queue and going back for the gift bag. Indeed, the two people behind him obviously decided that this was going to take a while to sort out and headed for the other checkouts.
The cashier tied to explain, saying slowly and almost incomprehensively, "Some of the baskets have got mixed up. Nay all of them are in the sale."
The girl looked at her blankly.
"You have to have a yellow sticker, dear."
Harry looked at his socks, and felt relief that by chance his selection had indeed got a yellow sticker.
"Excuse me," he said, interrupting. "Like this you mean?"
The girl looked around and realised that Harry was pointing to the sticker.
She let out a moan of frustration and moved out of the queue, turning to say, "Spasibo," to Harry as she passed.
When the chorus of, "Soooks and "Sooks," died down, he paid for his socks.
Mr Granger managed to get a few paces away before bursting into laughter. Harry just rolled his eyes.
"I was going to ask why you are buying socks instead of wrapping paper," he managed to say before adding, "but I really prefer not knowing."
Harry threw his last pound coins into the collecting bucket as they passed.
*
They had driven almost the entire way home before Harry remembered that they hadn't bought any of the things they'd said they were going out to buy.
A hasty U turn later, they bought a set of shelf brackets and some roller heads at the local DIY store.
As they entered the village the second time, Harry said, "Could you drop me here, please?"
"Sure, Harry," said Mr Granger pulling up just outside the pub. "Bit early for a drink, though?"
Harry snorted and said, "I want to try and book a table. I wanted to ask Hermione out to dinner."
"See you later, then."
Harry shut the car door and walked into the lounge bar. Unfortunately, this bar was empty and quiet. The only sign of activity was the steaming coffee machine.
He looked through the roped off archway that led to the dining area. It actually looked quite welcoming, although again there was no sign of anyone.
He decided to walk around to the Public bar.
He walked inside and was immediately struck by the smell of stale beer. This bar was much plainer than the lounge bar. In place of a carpet was a sticky linoleum floor.
Harry wasn't entirely surprised to find the two jokers that Hammond had singled out propping up the bar and telling some story to the landlady.
He went up to the bar and hoped to have a quiet word. This was quite impossible of course.
"Fancy a beer, Harry?"
"No thanks."
"Ignore these two idiots," she said. "What can I get you, my dear?"
"I was hoping I could book a table for dinner this evening."
"Sorry, we don't accept bookings unless there's a party of seven or more," she replied firmly.
"We'll come, Harry!" interrupted the other drinker.
"Tables are available on a first come, first serve basis."
"I see. What time would I be sure of getting a table?"
"Eight's good for us, Harry."
"We open at six, dear," she replied, rolling her eyes.
"Thank you," said Harry, turning to leave.
He was rather glad to get back outside into the fresh air. He let the door close and walked back slowly. He really wanted to book a table. That way they could be sure of not hanging around for ages. Harry knew that as this was the only place in the village that did evening meals, it would be very popular.
Harry was interrupted from his reverie by a shout from behind him.
He turned and was rather alarmed to see the landlady running towards him.
"Stop!"
"What's the matter?"
She caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder; apparently to make sure he didn't run off before she caught her breath.
"Is it true, or are those idiots having me on?" she gasped.
"Sorry?"
"Is it true that you found that little girl?"
"Oh, that. Yes, two of us found her."
"What time would you like your table for?"
*
Harry was quite relieved to get back to the house. It was still early, but it had felt like a full day all ready.
He thanked Mrs Granger for letting him in and immediately went in search of Hermione.
Harry went upstairs and called, "Hermione?" on the top landing. His voice echoed around as there was no carpet on the floor.
"In here, Harry."
He pushed open her bedroom and found her sitting on her bed reading The Quibbler.
"Hi," said. "Hermione, I was wondering if you'd like to-" he said before hesitating and saying, "Hermione, is anything wrong?"
"I've been reading the articles about Edenhardt," she said seriously.
"Oh, yes," he said gently, going over and sitting on the small rug at her feet. "I imagine you heard much the same thing during the interview with Mr Lovegood."
"He's published quite a bit more than just your interview, Harry."
"The Ministry statements?"
"Well, yes. But I didn't mean those."
"What then?"
"Can I read you an extract from the editorial?"
"Sure, if you'd like."
Hermione turned a few pages back and began to read aloud.
"When I interviewed Mr Potter, I asked him how he thought we should portray Edenhardt to our readers. He expressed the opinion that The Quibbler should not pre-judge Edenhardt and that the reader should be given the opportunity to form their own opinion based upon the many and conflicting views that are available. This, we trust, we have done."
Hermione paused and said, "Mr Lovegood refers to you as Mr Potter all the way through. It comes across like he's maintaining a professional detachment."
Harry nodded and Hermione continued.
"Whilst we have not commented on Edenhardt, we feel obliged to our readership to make an observation about Mr Potter himself."
Harry felt his neck suddenly feel a little stiff. What on earth had Mr Lovegood said about him?
"I interviewed Mr Potter while he was surrounded by some of his closest friends as he described the events of his rather long day, not all of which can be reported. He was relaxed and candid. Perhaps, if he hadn't been, he might have realised the shocked impact that some of his words had on those around him.
"To say that Mr Potter made light of his encounter with Edenhardt is an understatement. His description of how he struck a bargain with Edenhardt to substitute his name for all the others in Edenhardt's infamous book sent a chill around the gathered company that this reporter will remember for a long time.
"Readers will recall that Mr Potter has long been known for his ability to survive in extreme adverse conditions. Whilst we trust that Mr Potter's luck and many strengths will carry him through whatever should come his way, we cannot help but wonder if he is quite prepared to meet this new adversary.
"However, if Mr Potter is unconcerned and believes that dismissing the legend will keep the beast at bay, then this publication supports him entirely."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Harry cleared his throat and said, "Hermione, there are a couple of points there I'm going to ask you to clarify for me. The thing is, though, I really need to ask you something much more important."
"Yes, Harry?"
"I, er, was hoping you'd come to dinner with me. Tonight."
"Harry, I think this is serious."
"So am I, Hermione. Please say you'll come out with me. I've booked a table," he added hopefully.
Hermione's serious expression relaxed into a smile and she said, "Thank you, Harry. Yes, I'd love to go to dinner with you."
Harry sighed with relief and got up to sit on the bed next to Hermione.
"Okay, so who's this new adversary and what's this beast of theirs?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "I really think you should read the article."