Harry Potter the School Kid

1- School Shopping

#parseltongue#
'Thinking'
"Talking"
I do not own Harry Potter

Harry's POV

Diagon Alley was a swirling mess of sounds, colors, and strange people bustling in every direction. Even though Harry had technically been here before, it felt entirely different now. He was twelve, after all—he’d aged up, ready to tackle his second year at Hogwarts after missing the first. The streets seemed both familiar and foreign, and he found himself constantly looking around, trying to take it all in.

Sev’us walked beside him, his dark eyes always scanning the crowd like he was ready to hex the next person who bumped into them. Harry couldn’t blame him; the crowd was intense. He kept close to Sev’us, who was his constant guide and guardian in this chaotic magical world. They had recently moved to Spinner’s End, a more secluded and discreet location than the Dursleys' house. It was a welcome change, though Harry still felt out of place.

“Robes first,” Sev’us said, steering him toward Madam Malkin's. “Then books. We'll handle the rest after that.”

“Sounds riveting,” Harry muttered under his breath. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable being here; the memories were fuzzy and half-formed, but he knew something bad had happened in Diagon Alley once upon a time. Sev’us glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, but he said nothing.

Inside Madam Malkin's, Harry stood on a stool while she fussed with the pins, measuring his arms and muttering spells under her breath. Around him, other students chatted excitedly about what they were looking forward to at Hogwarts. Harry listened closely, trying to soak up every bit of information he could. After all, he was starting his second year, but it felt like his first.

After picking up his robes, they went to Flourish and Blotts. Harry loved the smell of new books, and he was excited to flip through the pages of his new spellbooks. But today, Flourish and Blotts was far more crowded than usual, the aisles packed with witches and wizards craning their necks and whispering excitedly. A large banner hung over a display that read:

Gilderoy Lockhart, Today Only! Book Signing!

Harry squinted at the display. The man in the photograph on the cover of the books smiled broadly, his teeth glinting in the light, and gave a little wink. Lockhart himself stood at the center of it all, a garish turquoise robe making him impossible to miss, his bright smile never wavering as he waved to his admirers.

Sev’us sighed, clearly irritated. “Merlin’s beard. Of all the days…”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “What’s so bad about him?”

“You’ll see,” Sev’us replied grimly. “Come, we need to get your books and leave before this becomes intolerable.”

As they weaved through Flourish and Blotts, the crowd around Lockhart was thick, making it almost impossible to navigate. Lockhart’s voice boomed over the gathered witches and wizards, and Harry could see him through the gap in the crowd.

“Ah, there he is!” Lockhart cried dramatically. “Harry Potter, ladies and gentlemen, right here in my own book signing!”

Heads turned, and Harry felt his face go hot. “Oh, no,” he muttered, trying to turn around, but it was too late. Lockhart was already pushing through the crowd toward him, that perfect smile plastered on his face.

“Harry, my dear boy!” Lockhart exclaimed, grabbing Harry’s shoulder and pulling him forward as if they were old friends. “What an absolute pleasure to meet you! And what a story you have, much like my own.”

Harry tried to pull back, but Lockhart had a surprisingly strong grip. “Uh, thanks, I guess,” Harry muttered, glancing at Sev’us, who looked like he was seconds away from hexing someone. “But I’m just here for my books, really.”