Harry trails behind Hagrid as he rereads his letter for what he'll need. "First-year students will require three sets of plain work robes, one plain pointed hat for day wear, one pair of dragon-hide gloves..."
Harry follows Hagrid as they board the train, sitting down beside him, and continues reading. "...and the following Set Books: The Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore..."
They arrive in London, Harry still, trailing behind Hagrid. "One wand, one standard Size 2 pewter cauldron, either an owl, a cat, or a toad." Harry looks up at Hagrid, a confused expression on his face. "Are you sure we can find all of this in London?"
Hagrid chuckles as they approach a narrow gray door between a bookshop and a record shop. "If yeh know where to go." Hagrid opens the door, leading Harry into the Leaky Cauldron.
The pub is dark and shabby. A few old women sit drinking in one corner, one smoking a pipe as long as her arm. At the front, a tiny man in a top hat talks to the bartender who resembles a gummy walnut. "Hagrid! The usual, I presume- Good Lord! Is this? Can this be him? Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter!"
You could hear a pin drop with how quiet the pub got. Harry, more than confused about how this random stranger knew his name, nervously makes his way forward while people hold their hands out to him.
"Harry P-P-Potter. C-Can't tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
"Professor! Didn't see yeh there. Harry this 'ere's Professor Quirrell. He'll be yer Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts." Hagrid bellows out, laughing slightly. Harry just nods his head in a polite greeting.
"F-F-Fearfully f-fascinating subject. N-Not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" Quirrell stammers out, his eyes fluttering nervously over Harry's scar.
—----------------------------------------------------
Hagrid taps the bricks on one wall with the tip of his umbrella while Harry stands behind him. "Why am I famous Hagrid? Why did all those people know who I am?"
"Don' know that I'm the right one ter tell yeh that, Harry." Hagrid proceeds to tap a brick three up, two across, and right. With one last tap, the bricks begin to quiver, shivering and jiggling until an archway appears. The archway leads to a cobbled street. The street appears so long and twisting that it seems to never end.
Harry stares, mesmerized. "Welcome to Diagon Alley, Harry."
As Harry looks around, he sees families with similar lists to his own. A plump woman huffs "Seventeen sickles an ounce for Dragon Liver, can you imagine? They're mad!"
"There it is! The Nimbus Two Thousand! Runs a good twenty times faster than the old Comets! Niel Marks himself rides it for the Chudley Cannons." a boy says loudly across the alley from them.
Harry struggles to take everything in at once, marveling at shops specializing in everything from cauldrons, owls, and broomsticks to robes, 'unmentionables,' and spell books.
"Dragon Liver? Like from a real dragon?" Harry questions, amazed.
"Well, they don't mean a ruddy penguin. Merlin, I'd like a dragon." Hagrid says, rubbing his chin.
"You'd like a dragon?" Harry looks at Hagrid like he's mad, his mouth slightly agape.
"Vastly misunderstood beasts, Harry.. Vastly misunderstood..."
YOU ARE READING
The Fall of Dumbledore: The White King
FanfictionThe Boy Who Lived is a well-known tale. Because that's what it is, a tale. The boy who lived never actually survived Voldemort. He never existed in the first place. The boy known as 'Harry James Potter' is actually 'Hades Evan Snape.' A product of h...
