Destiny

Hogwarts

August 31st 1991 Late Afternoon

'Quality Quidditch Supplies'

Harry entered the busy shop which mostly consisted of kids eyeballing brooms they couldn't afford. Harry wouldn't have really come here if Borgin hadn't pressurized him to. According to Borgin, this was the first time Hogwarts was going to allow first years to bring a broom and that he'd be damned if Harry wouldn't take advantage of it. He had even told Harry which one to get, the Nimbus 2000, which was apparently the best broom on the market. The Firebolt was expected to come out next year. Firebolt? Heck! Lightning bolt would have been a better name! Even something as stupid a Flashbolt!

Honestly, Harry didn't really care about this nonsense. To him, quidditch didn't make any sense. Nor did brooms, for the matter. Borgin told him that there were ways to fly without brooms using only wands. Why not use that instead? Harry couldn't imagine the pain he'd feel when he sat on one. Wasn't his entire body weight supported by a stick at his crotch? Wouldn't that hurt? Borgin told Harry that he shouldn't judge a sport he hadn't played, and that he might actually enjoy it.

"Sir, do you have a Nimbus 2000 in stock?" Harry asked an approaching salesman. The man looked at him suspiciously before asking, "Can you afford it?"

"Yes"

The man nodded and without a word went to one of the shelves and brought a broom in a brown package. "That will be three thousand galleons. You can pay the money at the counter."

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Three thousand galleons? For a broom? This was highway robbery! He didn't comment though. That would have been indecent. He quietly went to the counter and paid the bill. Surprisingly, the accountant didn't raise any questions. Nor did the salesman.

Harry had spent the past month learning all he could about wizarding culture: the blood status system, and the elite purebloods of Britain. He couldn't think of more than five families that could afford a three thousand galleon broom, and an eleven year old comes by and buys the broom and they asked no questions? That was weird. Not that he was complaining.

Borgin and Burkes Library

"You know it is dangerous don't you?" asked Borgin.

"Yes! Yes I know!" answered Harry for umpteenth time. Borgin wouldn't stop fussing over Harry's decision to take books on the forbidden arts to Hogwarts. It turned out that he could be expelled from the school if he was discovered, and should such an event arise, it would supposedly have a domino effect on Harry's life. His career would be destroyed, he would lose his claim to the potter fortune etcetera.

"Borgin, I understand you are worried about me, but I'll be fine. Besides, who's going to check if a muggle-raised firstie has books on the Dark Arts in his trunk?" Harry said annoyed.

"You never know kid, I got into Hogwarts thinking the same thing. I didn't get caught though" Borgin answered, his wrinkled mouth twisted into a smile that said he knew he had countered his own statement. Harry's eyes widened. "You were muggle raised! No way!"

"Of course not you little twit. Don't be ridiculous. I was brought up in the wizarding world by me mother. No prize she was. The muggleborn that she laid with abandoned her for a bonnie bride."

"Your dad was muggleborn? You never told me!" Harry accused. Borgin and Harry had become great friends, if one could call them that. Borgin knew most of Harry's history while Harry knew next to nothing about Borgin.

"Of course I didn't. That's why I did now" Borgin said, a playful glint in his eye. "Now before you retort" Borgin continued seeing Harry's grisly expression "You are going to be off to Hogwarts tomorrow. You know how to take the express right?"