2
That August, Diagon Alley was full of parents and students, as well as the usual shoppers, the hangers-about, the street vendors and gossips. Andromeda's boutique was doing a booming business as students bought school robes and formal robes; some parents were drawn in while waiting for their children to finish making their purchases independently in other places. No matter that 12 Grimmauld Place was -- for all intents and purposes -- a rundown town-house in the middle of a bad London neighbourhood; inside it was "a shrine to classic fashion and style" (Daily Prophet, 9 April 1990) and it was easily reached through a portkey shopfront in Diagon Alley.
None of this was in the minds of Remus and Sirius, as they followed Harry up the stairs from the tube station and out into Charing Cross Road. Harry had a backpack of the few things from home he wanted to bring with him; all his guardians had were their wands, tucked in their back pockets. One of the notes in the packet sent to Sirius was that their wands would re-activate the first time they set foot in Diagon Alley. They were watchful as they guided Harry towards the Leaky Cauldron, but nothing seemed amiss --
Until they stepped inside.
Word had got around, in the two years they'd been gone, that Sirius Black had taken young Harry Potter into seclusion with some tutor, a chap named Lupin whom some of them had known at Hogwarts, memorable mainly for his lack of memorability and sickly disposition. Sirius' face was relatively well-known, as he was heir to a fine old house, and his name popped up occasionally in connection with Andromeda Tonks; when they walked into the Leaky Cauldron, it was Sirius that everyone noticed first, tall and handsome as ever, trailed slightly by a scar-faced brown-haired man and guiding, by the shoulder, a slim young boy...
Sirius cleared his throat as silence fell throughout the pub. Finally Tom, the barman, came forward.
"To be sure, Sirius, it's good to see you again," he said, holding out his hand. Sirius shook it. "And this'll be young Harry Potter then, won't it?"
"This is Harry," Sirius rumbled, with an ominous look for anyone who would accost the boy or give him grief. Several people leaned in to each other to remark they didn't like the look of the bloke behind them. A bodyguard, perhaps? "Harry, this is Tom."
Harry held out his hand automatically, and Tom beamed wide as he shook it, showing a toothless grin. Other people came forward, slowly, as they made their way through the pub, introducing themselves and saying what an honour it was to meet the boy. Harry shook hands politely, and grinned once or twice; some of them, it was true -- and after two years in the Muggle world, these things became evident -- were dressed extremely oddly.
"Quirrell, old chap!" Sirius exclaimed, as they reached the back of the pub. A young, nervous-looking man lifted his head -- face pale under a shock of unruly, auburn-brown hair. "Of all the people to run into. Harry, this is Joseph Quirrell. He was with us at school, a year below -- I tutored him for his OWLs," Sirius said, as Quirrell held out his hand to shake Harry's. "Transfiguration and Potions. Good to see you, Quirrell."
"P-p-pleasure, I'm sure," Quirrell stammered. "H-h-hallo, S-Sirius -- L-l-lu-l-lu -- "
"Hi, Quirrell," Remus said, sparing the man. "Good to, er...see you again. What brings you to Diagon Alley?"
"Oh, I-i-i have some p-purchases to m-ake," Quirrell answered. "T-t-t-teaching at Hogwarts this year -- "
"Are you really?" Remus asked interestedly. "Well done you! What's your subject?"
"Best not be Transfiguration!" Sirius grinned.
"D-d-defence Against the D-d-dark Arts," Quirrell smiled weakly. Remus glanced at Sirius, who was hiding some emotion -- concern, amusement, perhaps dismay -- rather well. "I s-suppose I'll see you there, eh H-h-harry?"
