“The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!”
Unless Harry’s eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.
“Circumstances change, Harry…We have to take into account…in the present climate…Surely you don’t want to be expelled?”
“Of course I don’t,” said Harry.
“Well then, what’s all the fuss about?” laughed Fudge. “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom’s got a room for you.”
Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he’d done? And now Harry came to think of it, surely it wasn’t usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic?
Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.
“Room eleven’s free, Harry,” said Fudge. “I think you’ll be very comfortable. just one thing, and I’m sure you’ll understand…I don’t want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you’re to be back here before dark each night. Sure you’ll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me.”
“Okay,” said Harry slowly, “but why?”
“Don’t want to lose you again, do we?” said Fudge with a hearty laugh. “No, no…best we know where you are…I mean…”
Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak.
“Well, I’ll be off, plenty to do, you know…”
“Have you had any luck with Black yet?” Harry asked.
Fudge’s finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.
“What’s that? Oh, you’ve heard — well, no, not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed…and they are angrier than I’ve ever seen them.”
Fudge shuddered slightly.
“So, I’ll say good-bye.”
He held out his hand and Harry, shaking it, had a sudden idea.
“Er — Minister? Can I ask you something?”
“Certainly,” said Fudge with a smile.
“Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade, but my aunt and uncle didn’t sign the permission form. D’you think you could —?”
Fudge was looking uncomfortable.
“Ah,” he said. “No, no, I’m very sorry, Harry, but as I’m not your parent or guardian —”
“But you’re the Minister of Magic,” said Harry eagerly. “If you gave me permission…”
“No, I’m sorry, Harry, but rules are rules,” said Fudge flatly.
“Perhaps you’ll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it’s best if you don’t…yes…well, I’ll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry.”
And with a last smile and shake of Harry’s hand, Fudge left the room. Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry.
“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Potter,” he said, “I’ve already taken your things up…”
Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him.
Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe —
“Hedwig!” Harry gasped.
The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry’s arm.
“Very smart owl you’ve got there,” chuckled Tom. “Arrived about five minutes after you did. If there’s anything you need, Mr. Potter, don’t hesitate to ask.”
He gave another bow and left.
Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry could hardly believe that he’d left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, that he wasn’t expelled, and that he was now facing two completely Dursley-free weeks.
“It’s been a very weird night, Hedwig,” he yawned.
And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE LEAKY CAULDRON
It took Harry several days to get used to his strange new freedom. Never before had he been able to get up whenever he wanted or eat whatever he fancied. He could even go wherever he pleased, as long as it was in Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Harry felt no desire to break his word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world.
Harry ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where he liked watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for a day’s shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of raw liver from behind a thick woolen balaclava.
After breakfast Harry would go out into the backyard, take out his wand, tap the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall.
Harry spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were showing one another their purchases (“It’s a lunascope, old boy — no more messing around with moon charts, see?”) or else discussing the case of Sirius Black (“Personally, I won’t let any of the children out alone until he’s back in Azkaban”). Harry didn’t have to do his homework under the blankets by flashlight anymore; now he could sit in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, finishing all his essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry free sundaes every half an hour.
Once Harry had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts from his vault at Gringotts, he had to exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once. He had to keep reminding himself that he had five years to go at Hogwarts, and how it would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for spellbooks, to stop himself from buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones (a wizarding game rather like marbles, in which the stones squirt a nasty-smelling liquid into the other player’s face when they lose a point). He was sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant he never had to take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tested Harry’s resolution most appeared in his favorite shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, a week after he’d arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.
Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry edged his way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards until he glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life.
“Just come out — prototype —” a square-jawed wizard was telling his companion.
“It’s the fastest broom in the world, isn’t it, Dad?” squeaked a boy younger than Harry, who was swinging off his father’s arm.
“Irish International Side’s just put in an order for seven of these beauties!” the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. “And they’re favorites for the World Cup!”
A large witch in front of Harry moved, and he was able to read the sign next to the broom:
** THE FIREBOLT **
THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST.
Price on request…Harry didn’t like to think how much gold the Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything as much in his whole life — but he had never lost a Quidditch match on his Nimbus Two Thousand, and what was the point in emptying his Gringotts vault for the Firebolt, when he had a very good broom already? Harry didn’t ask for the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at the Firebolt.
There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy. He went to the Apothecary to replenish his store of potions ingredients, and as his school robes were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, he visited Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions and bought new ones. Most important of all, he had to buy his new schoolbooks, which would include those for his two new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination.
Harry got a surprise as he looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of the usual display of gold-embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively.
Harry pulled his booklist out of his pocket and consulted it for the first time.The Monster Book of Monsterswas listed as the required book for Care of Magical Creatures. Now Harry understood why Hagrid had said it would come in useful. He felt relieved; he had been wondering whether Hagrid wanted help with some terrifying new pet.
As Harry entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward him.
“Hogwarts?” he said abruptly. “Come to get your new books?”
“Yes,” said Harry, “I need —”
“Get out of the way,” said the manager impatiently, brushing Harry aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the Monster Books’ cage.
“Hang on,” said Harry quickly, “I’ve already got one of those.”
“Have you?” A look of enormous relief spread over the manager’s face. “Thank heavens for that. I’ve been bitten five times already this morning —”
A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster Books had seized a third and were pulling it apart.
“Stop it! Stop it!” cried the manager, poking the walking stick through the bars and knocking the books apart. “I’m never stocking them again, never! It’s been bedlam! I thought we’d seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of theInvisible Book of Invisibility — cost a fortune, and we never found them…Well…is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yes,” said Harry, looking down his booklist, “I needUnfogging the Futureby Cassandra Vablatsky.”
“Ah, starting Divination, are you?” said the manager, stripping off his gloves and leading Harry into the back of the shop, where there was a corner devoted to fortune-telling. A small table was stacked with volumes such asPredicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks and Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul.
“Here you are,” said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down a thick, black-bound book. “ Unfogging the Future. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods — palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails.”
But Harry wasn’t listening. His eyes had fallen on another book, which was among a display on a small table:Death Omens — What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming.
“Oh, I wouldn’t read that if I were you,” said the manager lightly, looking to see what Harry was staring at. “You’ll start seeing death omens everywhere. It’s enough to frighten anyone to death.”
But Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly familiar…
The manager pressedUnfogging the Futureinto Harry’s hands.
“Anything else?” he said.
“Yes,” said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the dog’s and dazedly consulting his booklist. “Er — I needIntermediate TransfigurationandThe Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three.”
Harry emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with his new books under his arms and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly noticing where he was going and bumping into several people.
He tramped up the stairs to his room, went inside, and tipped his books onto his bed. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and sun was pouring inside. Harry could hear the buses rolling by in the unseen Muggle street behind him and the sound of the invisible crowd below in Diagon Alley. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the basin.
“It can’t have been a death omen,” he told his reflection defiantly. “I was panicking when I saw that thing in Magnolia Crescent…It was probably just a stray dog….”
He raised his hand automatically and tried to make his hair lie flat
“You’re fighting a losing battle there, dear,” said his mirror in a wheezy voice.
As the days slipped by, Harry started looking wherever he went for a sign of Ron or Hermione. Plenty of Hogwarts students were arriving in Diagon Alley now, with the start of term so near.