𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚜 (second year)

DIAGON ALLEY

Amelia pov
I went after Harry, dropping the powder, green flames bursted upon me and smoke went up my throat, "Diagon Alley!" I choked out.  I saw was darkness, then Harry.

"Oh Merlin," I muttered, he helped me up.

We started to look around together. I notice glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a glass eye. Scary-looking masks stared down from the walls,  human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked items hung from the ceiling.

Even worse, the dark, narrow street they could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

We made our way silently toward the door, but before we only got halfway, two people appeared on the other side of the glass — and one of them was Draco Malfoy.

I looked quickly around and spotted two large black cabinet to our left; we shot inside both and pulled the doors closed, mine leaving a small crack to peer through.

Malfoy had stepped into the shop. The platinum blonde man who followed could only be his father with the pale face and cold eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying something to him.

I heard Malfoy say, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a broom,"

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy with a negative look on his face. "Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play. He's not even that good, it's just because he and his sister are famous . . . ." Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf. ". . . everyone thinks Potter is so smart, —"

"You have told me this a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, sending a look at Draco. "And I would remind you that it is not — wise — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — Mr. Borgin."

A man had appeared, he had greasy hair far away from his face. "Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said the man in a voice as oily as his hair. "and young Master Malfoy, too — charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced —"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.

"Selling?" His smile faded slightly.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking out rolled parchment from his pocket. "I have a few items that might embarrass, if the Ministry looked." Mr. Borgin looked down at the list. "The Ministry will not trouble you, I'm sure?" Mr. Malfoy's lip curled as he spoke bitterly.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving Weasley is behind it —" I felt a hot surge of anger when he said that and went on.

Draco drew nearer and nearer to the hiding place of Harry, examining the objects for sale.
Draco walked closer to me, pausing to examine a enchanted rope and to read a card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date. He's truly evil.

Draco turned away and was now facing my cabinet. He walked forward — I prayed he wouldn't open it — he stretched out his hand for the handle and grabbed it, pulling it open slowly. I stared at the cold gray eyes staring right back.

And then he spoke, "Father. Look what I found." I stared at him, why?

He shut the door halfway, he had been pointing at the withered hand on its cushion. I sighed quietly.