Chapter Six
The room that Harry stayed in had very little furniture. The moth-eaten curtains reminded Harry of dusty carpets. Dust lay on the wooden wardrobe and also on a bedside cabinet. There was also a desk that held a single lamp, which Harry believed might be useful. Facing the bed was a full length mirror which often shouted advice at Harry. There was an ancient looking couch beside the window that looked out onto the roof of the opposite facing building.
Tom the barman, who looked uncannily like a gummy walnut, woke Harry the next morning. Harry was surprised to find that he had slept fully clothed, so after having a shower to freshen up in his en-suite bathroom, he arrived down in the lounge for breakfast. There was not as many people in the pub as there had been the day before, which Harry was relieved to see, so he ate his breakfast in peace, thanked Tom for the service and returned to his room. He had decided he would look through some of his books today.
He emptied his books onto the desk and searched through them for a promising book. He found it within a few seconds, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One by Miranda Goshawk. He opened the book delicately and placed it on his bed. He read through some of the context before deciding he would try to perform some of the spells. He knew it was risky and possibly dangerous, but his thirst for knowledge prevailed and before he knew it he had his wand in hand and was looking at a levitation spell. After reciting the saying of the spell, he pointed his wand at the book lying, looking very vulnerable, on his bed.
He took a deep breath, swished and flicked his wand and spoke the spell out loudly. "Wingardium Leviosa." Harry felt a surge of power through his arm, and then the book began to pick itself up off the bed and levitated about a foot above it. Harry lowered his wand, a small smile on his face as he realized he had just performed magic.
An hour later and Harry was nearly half-way through the book of spells. He found that some spells required more concentration than others. He lay on the bed, feeling a bit drained from the magic. He decided he would rest, but not for long. He needed to go and get his school robes, Hagrid had told him where to go and what to get.
Harry got up and retrieved another book from his desk, this time it was the one he had bought for some background reading, More Magical Methods. He opened it and lay down on his stomach to read it. He read for about ten minutes about proper wand control and movements, just as he was about to close the book, he read a sentence at the very end of the page. It read:
Even though wizards generally perform better with wands there have been the very rare occasion another device has been used. As the wizard is the source of magic himself and not the object, this makes it possible to focus the power of magic elsewhere. For example Merlin used a staff. Also the practice of wandless or mind magic, which very few wizards or witches succeed in mastering without difficulties.
Harry pondered the possibilities of wandless magic. It would be quicker and that would be an advantage in a wizard's duel which the book mentioned in an earlier chapter. He decided he would try it out, even thought there was such a slim chance of success.
He walked to the edge of the couch, at a safe distance from the book. He stood still with his arm outstretched and shouted aloud "Wingardium Leviosa." Nothing happened. He tried a few times to no effect. So he decided he would leave it for today.
He cleaned up the room, stacking the books back on his desk and making his bed. He then made his way down the rickety wooden staircase. He went into the courtyard and tapped the wall with his wand, "Three up…. Two across." He then stepped back and watched as the archway appeared.
A few minutes later he entered Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. She was currently working on a boy at the back of the shop. He had a pale, pointed face, and was looking at Madam Malkin with a look of disgust on his face. "If that pin touches me one more time, I swear I will tell my father." The smile that had previously graced Madam Malkin's face had vanished to be replaced by a look of outrage and what Harry suspected as fear. She didn't reply but quickly returned to dressing the intolerant boy.
When she had finished she went to calculate how much the boy owed her. The boy sauntered into the front of the shop where Harry was waiting. He eyed Harry and walked up to the counter. "You Hogwarts?" he asked, in what Harry thought a rude manner. "Yes" Harry replied shortly. The boy sighed audibly. "I knew they just let anybody in, I thought they might change, I guess they didn't. By the look of you, I'd say you were muggle-born." He spat the last word.
Harry made no response. He knew the boy was being offensive and that he reminded him of Dudley but he didn't want to get into a fight with someone who probably knew more magic than he did. "I'm the purest wizard there is." The boy announced proudly. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Remember the name. Anyway, what's yours? If you're not muggle-born I might have heard of your family."
Harry gave him a look which made Malfoy rethink his situation and also what he was going to say. "I don't think you care," Harry whispered as he stood up off the chair he was sitting on. At that moment Madam Malkin returned. Malfoy quickly gave her the money and left the shop, but not before he shoved into Harry and said "I'm not afraid of you."
Harry wasn't long in Madam Malkin's shop. Actually he had tried to speed it up after she found some bruising on his arm, compliments of Uncle Vernon. He had desperately pulled down his sleeve and then looked anywhere but at her. Uncle Vernon didn't hurt him physically a lot. And Harry had told himself for years that when he had been hurt that it was his fault. That it was a just punishment. Deep down he knew he was building a fortress of lies to protect himself from the truth. He didn't want to pity himself and he never liked anyone to pity him. Madam Malkin didn't further the subject but she did look near tears when he was leaving.
He knew she meant well, but he hated it. He hated being sympathized with. Because they'd never know the full truth, no one ever wanted to know the full truth. He made a quick trip to Gringotts to exchange some of his money to pounds. Then he strolled back to the Leaky Cauldron, negative thoughts floating through his head. When he pushed open the door he was met with a crowd of people who immediately scurried around him. He fought his way to the stairs and then ran to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He dropped his bags on the floor then went over and opened the window to let some air in, the bedroom felt very warm even though it was actually quite cool outside. He opened his wardrobe and noticed he had one pair of clothes. So he decided he would go into muggle London and but some clothes for the school year, he wouldn't need much considering he would mostly wear his school robes, just a pair of trousers and two or three t-shirts, and maybe a jumper.
After battling through the bar again he finally made his way out to the street. He couldn't believe how different it felt then Diagon Alley, probably the knowledge that out here they didn't believe in magic wands or potions or know that buried deep beneath them were caves of gold, silver and bronze. He went into the first shop he saw that sold clothes, but after a few moments he knew he didn't like the type of clothes. The shop was full of tracksuits and shiny runners and shoes. He didn't want to buy sportswear so he went back onto the street.
After browsing a few more shops, he arrived in a shop that felt more like him. It was a darker shop than any of the others. Most of the clothes were black. He bought three t-shirts that had band-names written on them. Nirvana, System of a Down and Greenday. He then bought a pair of baggy jeans and a black hoody. He also bought a hat that he could wear to hide his scar and also his identity; He arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron at dinner time and ate alone at the bar. He then went back to his room and read through his school books for the rest of the night.
The next two weeks flew by for Harry. He watched as more people his age began to arrive at Diagon Alley preparing for the school year. He ate breakfast at the bar every morning, he found it unusual not to cook his own breakfast. He enjoyed breakfast; often some of the other guests would chat with him about the wizarding world.
They were from all different parts of the country. There was even one from Bulgaria who was in Britain to speak to the Minister about what he called `secret matters'. They were all enthusiastic talkers and as Harry had no stories of his own, he was a good listener. Most of the wizards he had met so far were friendly, except for Draco Malfoy, who fortunately Harry had not seen since.
Harry continued looking through his books. He could also use Diagon Alley to study magic as, while there, Harry was surrounded by it. He tried to find whether it was common for wizards to have what he called his sixth sense but there was no mention of it whatsoever. He didn't want to ask anybody incase they thought he was mad. During his studies he found a name for his owl, Hedwig. He let her out at night so she could hunt, and she really was good company, even though she couldn't talk. Harry thought she had very human gestures; she often glared at him if he didn't brush his teeth or comb his hair. The hat that Harry had bought worked wonderfully, almost no one stopped him when he was trying to walk through Diagon Alley, and they merely wondered why someone was wearing a winter hat in mid-August.
With ten days left until his departure to Hogwarts, Harry was becoming very anxious. Sometimes he was so nervous he contemplated going, other times he was so excited he wanted to go earlier.
One day Harry spotted the man who had accompanied Dumbledore to Privet Drive, entering the bar. The man looked as sour as ever and walked briskly up to the bar and whispered something to the bar man, who then showed him to one of the more private rooms that the pub had. Harry became immediately suspicious, he didn't know why but he had always been a curious child. He silently left the table he had been sitting at walked in the direction of his room, but he veered off at the bathroom which was located right beside the room the man had walked into. Hopefully he would be able to hear what this obviously frustrated man was doing.
He walked into one of the cubicles and closed the door silently. He pressed his ear to the wall and could hear raised voices, but to Harry they were murmurs. He wished he could hear exactly what they were saying. Suddenly Harry heard the piercing noise at the back of his head; he placed both his hands on the back of his head as he felt as if his brain was being scrambled, then it stopped as suddenly as it had come. Then he heard new sound, voices through the wall, but not like he had heard them before, now he heard them as if they were right there in the room with him. He could hear the people inside the other room moving around, the footsteps sounding agitated. The man Harry knew as Severus was talking, "That is a completely unfounded accusation, I only met him a few weeks ago, and you already believe it was me who hit him. It was his uncle whom he lived with."
Harry realized they were talking about him. He leaned close to the wall even though he could hear perfectly. Another voice spoke, a man's voice. It sounded harsh and there was a hint of a foreign accent in it. "But you do not like him, even though you only met. Hmm," Harry heard a soft laugh and knew that whoever the man was, was laughing. But it sounded unnatural and Harry was sure it was forced. "The hatred you bear does not die with his father, eh?"
"What did you want Igor?" Severus snapped. The laughing died, so did all the other noises in the room. Harry knew the man named Igor was apprehensive about talking. "Well, I didn't know who else to tell, but, there are rumors, which I believe should be attended to. Or at least listened to. There are whispers in the east of a dark power approaching." He whispered it so low Harry had to strain to hear it. "It could be Him. What are we going to do?" There was silence for a few moments and then.
"Nothing, we'll know when it is time to take action. For now we are quite safe." He paused. "If that is all, I have to go." He heard the scraping of a chair and then footsteps.
"What do you mean, if that is all? Do you think that blundering old fool can help you if He returns?" "There is no point worrying over something that might never happen." Severus snapped. More hurried footsteps and then the noise of the door being opened. "And that blundering old fool who speak of is the best chance we have, if He does return." The door was slammed shut.
Harry returned to his room in a state of shock. Were they talking about Voldemort? From what Harry heard, Voldemort was alive, but did he now have enough strength to return? And what was that about his father and Severus? These questions filled Harry's mind as he got ready for bed.
Another thing on his mind was his other sense. He could now increase his hearing range, and he had wished for it and it happened. Also it had happened when he wasn't in a dangerous situation. He felt very tired and concluded that using his other sense must drain in some way. "This is so cool." Harry said aloud to no one.
"If you say so, dear." His mirror replied.
When Harry went down to breakfast the next day, he was delighted to find Hagrid. Harry told Hagrid about the boy in Madam Malkin's and what he had said. "Ye see `arry, some wizard's think they're better than others because of their backgrounds. It's really awful it is, worst discrimination, you-know-who used to kill muggle-borns just cause o' what they were. Some `orrible killin's there was." He lowered his voice to a whisper, " The Malfoy family were considered big supporters of you-know-who." Harry thought about this and how it reminded him of the Holocaust. He also thought about Draco and realized that he would probably be a terrible bully. While sitting there, mindlessly listening to Hagrid, Harry vowed to himself that he would try and prevent people being hurt by Malfoy.
Okay this was a short chapter. I wholeheartedly apologize. Again, thank you so much for reviewing and reading. Oh, and for all those who are wondering how Harry can perform magic without being eaten by the Ministry officials, well he's in Diagon Alley, completely surrounded by magic, so it's much harder to detect. Hope you are all well, and hope you like the chapter.
Take care,
Radagast
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