"Potter?" Malfoy blurted out, and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Borgin both raised an eyebrow, the latter looking pointedly at him in question.
"Well, I was told to stay out of sight, if possible," he said by way of explanation, "If you could not say anything about me ducking into a possibly cursed cabinet, I'd really, really appreciate it."
Mr. Borgin looked at him with amusement, while Malfoy continued to gape and Mr. Malfoy stared at him with undisguised curiosity.
Feeling very awkward, Harry nodded toward Malfoy and approached his father, sticking his hand out. "Harry Potter, pleased to meet you, sir." Malfoy had already 'blown his cover' so to speak, so there was no point in being rude.
Mr. Malfoy tentatively shook his hand, and Borgin spoke up again.
"Your...friend will be occupied for some time still. She is dealing with a...mutual business partner."
Harry nodded, as though he understood, when really he did not.
"She asked that you wait for her at Flourish and Blotts."
Harry nodded. This he understood. "Alright, I'll be going then -"
"But before you leave," said Borgin, "I was asked to give you this, with a message – Happy Belated Birthday." The man picked up an enormous tome from underneath the counter and placed it in Harry's hands.
Magic Moste Evile
Harry's eyes went almost as wide as Dobby's had been a couple of weeks earlier, his mouth falling open as he gaped shamelessly. "Is this...a pre 1857 version?"
Those were very, very rare.
Borgin raised an eyebrow. "You know about the 1857 censorship, then?"
Harry nodded avidly, eyes glimmering with glee. "I was very disappointed to find that the one at Hogwarts is from 1912. But this is...splendid!" he exclaimed, his voice almost trembling with excitement, "The best birthday present ever!"
Meanwhile, both Malfoys were looking at him as if he had grown an extra set of arms and maybe another head or two on top of that.
Ignoring them, Harry opened up his red backpack and slid the book inside. "Thank you so much Mr. Borgin!"
The man raised an eyebrow. "It's not from me, but you're welcome all the same."
Harry grinned, and was about to leave, but hesitated. Instead, he walked over to the case with the skulls in it and picked up the one with the strange markings.
"How much for this?"
Mr. Borgin's thin eyebrows disappeared behind his wiry white fringe. "And why would you want to know a thing like that?"
Harry shrugged. "I kind of like it."
The old man chuckled. "For you, Mr. Potter, I'll part with it for 7 galleons."
Harry's grin returned, and after placing the skull in his backpack, he fetched the required sum out of his pocket and handed it over to Mr. Borgin.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter."
Harry nodded. "Likewise." He looked around. "I'll be going then, I guess." He made for the door, but then looked over his shoulders at the two baffled Malfoys. "Um, please pretend I was never here. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy!"
He shivered slightly as he left – it felt good to leave the musty shop...not that the air quality in Knockturn Alley was much better.
He looked from side to side, suddenly aware of the dubiousness of his surroundings, and the fact that without Tom's presence, he might actually be in danger, given his current location. This was especially evident as he caught the eye of a bedraggled wizard slouching in a crevice between two shops.
The man stared at him hungrily, and Harry grimaced, making a show of drawing his wand. Immediately, the man looked away, an indecipherable look on his face.
What odd behaviour, Harry could not help but think.
Oh, well, off to Flourish and Blotts.
Well that was...dreadful.
GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today
12.30 – 4.30 pm
Who would have thought one innocent-looking banner could warn of such great treachery?
Never before had any bookshop or library betrayed him so shamelessly.
Getting into Flourish and Blotts had been no easy task; it was positively overflowing with human clutter, mostly with preening witches of all ages. Honestly, in was ridiculous. Apparently, the man who wrote all of his Defence of the Dark Arts books (of which there were many), Gilderoy Lockhart, was signing copies of his autobiography that day. The whole thing was very annoying, and Harry was scowling the whole time he was picking up his books. He had hoped to enjoy his experience in the book shop as he always did; he had happily anticipated a casual exploration of the various titles on display, over the course of his pleasurably slow meander through the shop.
No such luck.
He was grimacing as he handed 14 galleons and 7 sickles over to the shop attendant stationed at the till.
"Sorry about this," the older boy said, "It's been like this since noon."
Harry looked at him sympathetically. "Don't apologize to me – you're the one who has to put up with this all day."
"Cameras flashing, witches squealing...I can't wait for it to be over," the boy groused, "I didn't sign up for this."
Harry smiled weakly. "Two more hours until closing."
"Thank Merlin for small mercies."
He nodded at the clerk and was about to sneak out of the store, when he saw Hermione standing near the front of the store with a group of redheads, and one thing that did not belong. Draco Malfoy.
He frowned. Sneak away or break up the impending fight...
It would be rather bad taste to just slink off, wouldn't it?
"Hermione! Ron!" he called out, pushing through the crowd toward them.
Hermione's face lit up when she saw him, and Ron's scowl turned into a grin.
"Harry!"
He grinned at them when he finally made it through the crowd, and Hermione immediately launched herself into his arms. Not really knowing what to do, he patted her awkwardly on the back.
"It's lovely to see you too Hermione," he said cautiously, not knowing if it was customary to greet someone before, during, or after a hug.
When she finally released him he smiled politely at Malfoy.
"Malfoy, fancy seeing you here," he said lightly, "I wouldn't have thought to find you in...present company."
At that, the pale boy went red in the face, and he looked like he was going to snap back, before an interruption arrived.
"Ron!" an older man with bright red hair, dusted only slightly with grey, called over the din, as he struggled over with Fred and George, who beamed and waved at him when they saw him.
"What are you doing?" the man said loudly, "It's mad in here, let's go outside."
Harry was about to introduce himself when yet another interruption showed up.
...
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