novelraw Chapter 29: From Knockturn Alley to Diagon Alley
Chapter 29: From Knockturn Alley to Diagon Alley
Chapter Twenty-Nine: From Knockturn Alley to Diagon Alley
Despite verbally belittling him, Lucius Malfoy harbored a deep-seated wariness of Arthur Weasley.
On August 12, when he took his son to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies, he first made a detour to Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley and sold off several items that might be detected as Dark artifacts.
That morning, he'd feigned distress to Narcissa, trying to salvage the situation: "Cissy, you know me. I didn't actually use most of these items—I just looked at them... purely for display... is that not allowed?"
"Lucius, I've never restricted your little hobbies before. But times have changed, and we can't afford to take risks now," Narcissa said firmly. "My book club is almost disbanded! Just imagine, if our guests keep seeing Ministry officials barging into Malfoy Manor and treating us so casually, they'll suspect we've lost the Ministry's respect. And if he actually finds something in front of everyone... that's not exactly good for our reputation."
"It's all that wretched Weasley's fault—he's come twice in one week," Lucius said angrily. "What's he going to do next? Start clocking in at Malfoy Manor regularly? I'm not paying him overtime."
"If he were to charge us 'overtime pay,' things would be much easier," Narcissa said. "He's completely incorruptible—what can you do? Complain to Fudge?"
"Of course. He's very smooth—he'll say he's 'greatly shocked' and then say he's 'powerless to do anything about it,'" Lucius said. "There's a considerable number of people watching the Muggle Protection Act that Weasley is overseeing, mostly low-ranking officials. Although they're not high-ranking, their numbers are substantial. He can't just arbitrarily prohibit Weasley from doing his work in accordance with the Act."
"Hmph, he's really cautious, not wanting to give anyone leverage against him, isn't he? I think he's planning to be re-elected, which is why he cares so much about public opinion." Narcissa said, narrowing her eyes. "Even if he were painted white all over, he could never become as pure as a unicorn."
"He's content as long as his political enemies don't find any fault with him," Lucius said, then suddenly felt a wave of frustration. "There's no room for negotiation, is there? They have to be sold?"
"They have to be sold." Narcissa glanced at Lucius with a smile while their son was eating, and said in a barely audible voice, "Come back early after you're done, and I'll give you some unconditional compensation."
"...All right." Lucius's eyes lit up, and he readily agreed.
He felt his son's curious look, so he coughed lightly, took a sip of tea, and secretly raised the corners of his mouth behind the teacup.
*What exactly did Mother say?* Draco wondered.
Given the Malfoy family's fascination with Dark artifacts, Father probably wouldn't be able to bring himself to sell them. However, after only a moment's hesitation, Father actually agreed? And even seemed a little pleased?
His overjoyed expression didn't seem like the product of being threatened by Mother.
Draco's astonishment never ceased on the journey from the breakfast table to Knockturn Alley, and he was utterly bewildered by Lucius's unusual behavior.
Knockturn Alley always had a gloomy, cramped, and dirty appearance.
After passing a sinister witch selling human fingernails, a shop selling poisonous candles, and a few more shops selling Dark artifacts, Borgin and Burkes' spacious but dimly lit shop came into view.
As soon as he entered, Lucius put away his cheerful expression and put on a cold, dignified demeanor again.
He walked through the shop, casually glancing at items displayed on the shelves. He cautiously rang the bell on the counter, then turned to his son and instructed, "Don't touch anything, Draco."
The young Malfoy had lost interest in the Dark artifacts displayed on the counter. He'd seen them before in his own secret chamber—they were nothing special to him.
Draco listened absentmindedly to Lucius and Mr. Borgin's complaints about the Ministry raids and the ensuing long, tedious haggling. When no one was looking, he went straight to the only thing in the shop that interested him—the Vanishing Cabinet.
He looked at the large black and gold cabinet and thought: *This thing is a rare treasure. I should find some time to buy it from Mr. Borgin. Who knows, it might come in handy in the future.*
Suddenly, he saw a pair of emerald green eyes through the crack in the Vanishing Cabinet door.
*How is that possible?*
*Is someone using the Vanishing Cabinet?*
However, those eyes were not an illusion, and they looked strangely familiar.
He asked in a low voice, "Harry?"
Those eyes blinked nervously at his words, looking more like Harry's.
Draco moved to the crack in the door, blocking the view from the counter.
The eyes disappeared, but a low voice came from inside: "It's me, Draco."
"Why are you here?" Draco asked with interest.
"An accident." Harry's voice betrayed a hint of unease.
"An accident..." he repeated slowly, trying to process the meaning. "I think you'd better leave here as soon as possible." He shook his head, opened the door, and quietly let Harry out.
Under Draco's cover, Harry, his face covered in soot, tiptoed out from behind another shelf. Just as he reached the door, Draco heard Mr. Borgin ask suspiciously, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Harry didn't dare look up and said evasively, "I'm sorry, I..."
"He's my friend. He saw me here and came in to say hello, right?" Draco quickly jumped in to smooth things over.
"Yes." Harry seemed relieved.
"Your friend?" Lucius put down the list in his hand, slowly chewing on the words, and looked at Harry's face and shabby clothes with suspicion through cold gray eyes.
"I didn't know you had such... unique tastes." He glanced at his son, a hint of disdain on his face.
Draco gave an awkward smile.
*Father, this is the Harry Potter you've always wanted to befriend...*
"Father, I've arranged to meet Blaise at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It's almost time—can I go on ahead?" Draco asked with an innocent air.
*Blaise, thank you for taking the blame.*
Lucius waved his hand dismissively. "All right, don't wander off. Buy your friends some ice cream or something. I have business to finish. Meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour."
"I understand, Father. Also, Mr. Borgin, didn't you give too few coins earlier?" Draco said tactfully. "I noticed you seemed to take one back just now."
Mr. Borgin gave a twisted smile and sheepishly put the Galleon he'd palmed back on the counter. Lucius glared at him coldly.
Draco pulled Harry out of the shop, leaving Mr. Borgin's glib excuses and his father's furious accusations inside.
He casually tapped Harry's robes and glasses with his wand, and the unsightly soot finally disappeared.
"That's much better," he said with satisfaction.
Harry's lips curled into a smile at the sudden brightening of his glasses. "Thank you, Draco."
He inspected his spotless robes, a hint of admiration on his face. "Hermione's right. I really should learn the Scouring Charm..."
"I bet this is your first time using Floo Powder, right?" Draco glanced at him.
Harry nodded sheepishly.
"You need to practice more," Draco said sympathetically.
"Where am I?" Harry asked as they walked.
Draco gestured with his chin toward an old wooden street sign. "Knockturn Alley. It's not safe for you here. You might get into trouble. Imagine the tabloids running headlines like, 'Harry Potter Spotted in Knockturn Alley—The Boy Who Lived Befriends Dark Wizards.' That's not a good thing. We need to get going."
"Is it really that exaggerated?" Harry looked at him in alarm. "Are you joking?"
"You have no idea what the bottom line is for those unscrupulous tabloids." Draco gave Harry a meaningful look, then led him away from those gloomy wizards.
They quickly made their way through the winding, dark alleyways and finally appeared on the bright, wide, straight street of Diagon Alley.
Across the way was Gringotts, and Draco immediately spotted Hermione standing on the steps.
The little girl he hadn't seen all summer. Her brown hair stood out vividly against the white walls.
Just then, she turned around and immediately spotted him. She quickly ran down the steps to greet them with a beaming smile.
"Oh, Draco, you're here! And Harry... It's so good to see you both. Are you going into Gringotts?" She looked them up and down with a bright smile, her brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
Draco shrugged. "I've already taken money from Gringotts."
Harry was somewhat tempted. He said to Hermione, "Could you wait a moment? I'll go after I find the Weasleys."
Just then, Hagrid arrived.
"Harry, where have you been? I ran into the Weasleys—they can't find you and they're going mad with worry!" He rushed up to Harry and asked.
"Knockturn Alley," Harry said.
Hagrid's face darkened, and he said seriously, "Oh, that's not a place for a young wizard. I think I'll wait with you until the Weasleys arrive before I go about my business. Oh, hello, Hermione—"
Hermione raised her face to Hagrid and smiled slightly.
She wanted to say something to Hagrid, but Draco abruptly interrupted her.
"I think we shouldn't keep your parents waiting any longer," he said to Hermione, seemingly oblivious to everyone else, glancing at the uneasy couple standing in front of Gringotts—they seemed quite uncomfortable with the goblin guards' stares. "Let's exchange money now while there aren't too many people around, so we can save some time."
"How do you know they're my parents? I haven't introduced them to you yet!" Hermione asked in surprise.
"Just a guess," Draco said curtly.
Was he going to admit that he'd met the Grangers briefly on the Hogwarts Express platform when he was a first-year, and that he inexplicably remembered what they looked like? Impossible.
The Grangers gave the impression of being refined and easygoing. Draco could tell at a glance they came from a well-educated family.
Mr. Granger was tall and distinguished, while Mrs. Granger was elegant, gentle, and gracious. They were undoubtedly related to Hermione, for they shared her bright eyes.
"Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, hello—I am Hermione's classmate." Draco stepped forward at Hermione's direction and bowed to them.
"Oh, you must be Malfoy," Mr. Granger said kindly. "I've heard all about you from Hermione."
Hermione, standing to the side, looked a little uncomfortable. She said, "Oh, stop it, Dad."
"She said you're the cleverest young wizard she's ever met," Mrs. Granger said with a smile. "I rarely hear her praise anyone—you must be exceptionally talented..."
"Mum!" Hermione gave her mother a warning look.
"I think she's the cleverest one in our year," Draco said in a charming, polite manner. "Would I have the honor of showing you around Gringotts?"
"I would be delighted," Mrs. Granger said with a smile.
And so, the young Malfoy master skillfully led the Grangers into the only wizarding bank in Britain.
Although the Grangers were amazed by the appearance of the goblins and by the sheer number of rubies piled up like mountains of coal, they still maintained composure, unlike the Muggles Draco knew who loved to make a fuss.
"Madam, please allow me a moment to speak with the goblins," Draco said graciously. "They are more polite to familiar faces."
The Grangers complied without question.
They watched Draco with great interest—the young wizard, unfazed by his age, went straight up to a goblin at an empty counter with an arrogant expression, and said, "I need to exchange pounds for Galleons... yes, five to one... for what purpose? Need I say more? For education..."
The goblin behind the counter glanced at him, recognizing him as a regular customer, and dropped his arrogant demeanor. He readily agreed to Draco's request, not daring to underestimate him because of his age.
Then, the platinum-blonde boy turned around, his tone shifting from arrogant to amiable. "Oh, Hermione, how many did you want to exchange again?"
A moment later, the respectful goblin took a large bag of Galleons from the cart behind him and exchanged it for the pounds in the Grangers' hands at the correct ratio.
"I'm really puzzled. Why did you only mention his marks and not anything else? He's so thoughtful, polite, and composed, and his appearance is also..." Mrs. Granger's words drifted over from behind, her tone slightly excited.
Hermione gave a vague answer, which sounded somewhat irritable.
Draco pretended not to hear. He crossed his arms and stared intently at the goblins counting money.
When it came to greed and cunning, the goblins were far more outrageous than Mr. Borgin—you had to be extra careful.
When they came out of Gringotts, Draco saw that Harry and Ron were already waiting for them.
"Where are your family members?" Hermione asked.
"Mum and Dad said they're going to the bookshop to buy us books, and everyone else is busy with their own things. You can't expect all of us to go together, right?" Ron said. "But we agreed to meet at Flourish and Blotts later."
Draco's plans were somewhat disrupted.
He'd originally planned to take advantage of this time apart from Father to visit Ollivanders and ask about the Elder Wand.
However, the situation was now somewhat tricky.
He'd spent so much time with the Grangers that he now had to go to Flourish and Blotts to meet Father first—especially after he learned from Ron that Mr. Weasley had also gone there.
He wanted to urge Father to finish the business as soon as possible. That way, he might be able to avoid Lucius and Mr. Weasley arguing or even coming to blows at the bookshop.
In his past life, Father had disregarded all decorum by fighting with Mr. Weasley in public in a bookshop—a scandalous affair. He certainly didn't want to experience that embarrassment again.
He didn't want Hermione to be insulted by Lucius again. Could there be a worse first meeting?
So he hurriedly said to Hermione, "I have an appointment with my father at the bookshop. It's almost time—I have to go now."
"All right, Draco. Thank you for helping us." Hermione said goodbye with a hint of reluctance, and the Grangers expressed their gratitude in return.
Draco suppressed his anxiety and smiled goodbye to the Grangers. He gave Harry and the others a slight nod before turning and hurrying toward Flourish and Blotts on the north side of Diagon Alley.
However, by the time he arrived at Flourish and Blotts, he was too late.
Lucius and Mr. Weasley stood facing each other menacingly near the bookshop stairs, like two roosters. They were having an unpleasant conversation.
"I'll leave you with this: you should go find those pure-blood traitors who have close ties with Muggles. They have a better chance of getting magical items into Muggle hands than a pure-blood wizard like me who is respectable and has nothing to do with Muggles." Lucius's face was full of arrogance.
"That's not what the anonymous tip says. It claims the Malfoys have close business ties with the Muggle world!" Mr. Weasley retorted, his neck stiff.
Lucius scoffed at him. "That's ancient history! Before the International Statute of Secrecy, which wizard could honestly say they had absolutely no dealings with Muggles? You have the nerve to bring that up!"
"Stop downplaying the issue—the tipster is talking about the present!" Mr. Weasley said. "Can you swear to Merlin that you haven't laid a finger on any Muggle, since you claim to be pure-blood?"
Lucius was furious and glared at him.
A red-haired girl nearby was swaying precariously, clutching a secondhand cauldron and a stack of old books, her face ashen with fear. That was Ron's sister.
"Father!" Before they started fighting, Draco struggled through the crowded throng, calling out, "There are too many people here. Let's go see the racing brooms first. Didn't you say you wanted to?"
Lucius was brought back to his senses by his son's shouts. He nodded arrogantly, toyed with the silver snake-headed cane, glared at Mr. Weasley, and stormed out of Flourish and Blotts.
"Father, didn't you always teach me to at least maintain a façade of civility with Ministry officials?" Draco followed Lucius toward the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop next door. "Why did you have to argue with Mr. Weasley in public?"
"Civility only works on civil people. You know the Weasleys have been targeting our family. When the Malfoys' dignity is challenged and the Manor is seen as a place that can be invaded at will, civility can wait." Lucius dusted off nonexistent dust from his robes and said with a grim face.
"Ron Weasley is Harry Potter's best friend at Hogwarts. Harry Potter spent half of this holiday at the Weasleys' house. Under these circumstances, I don't think it would be wise to offend the Weasleys," Draco said carefully. "That's what you taught me, Father, didn't you?"
Lucius looked affronted.
"Are you lecturing your father, Draco?" he asked menacingly.
"Of course not." Draco's eyes gleamed with mischief. "I just think that if Mother heard about this, she might worry about you."
Lucius snorted through his nose, reluctantly acknowledging the point.
"It seems Harry Potter isn't as bright as you think. How can he amount to anything by associating with the child of a blood traitor?" Lucius's words carried a hint of disdain, and subtle malice lurked on his cold face.
"He's in Gryffindor after all, and under Professor Dumbledore's protection—it's not easy to get him to immediately befriend the pure-blood Slytherin families," Draco said, trying to persuade Father not to target Harry, the future "Dark Lord nemesis."
"If he wants our recognition, he has to prove himself with his magical abilities first. If he's all talk and no action, then he's just another blood traitor like Arthur Weasley, with no future, and not worth the Malfoys' eagerness to befriend," Lucius said coldly, still in a bad mood from the conflict with Mr. Weasley.
"This requires long-term observation—it can't be determined in just one or two interactions," Draco said uneasily.
*Father is just like he was in my past life—very impatient.*
"Perhaps we'll have a chance to prove that soon." Lucius smirked as he strode into Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"Father, what does that mean?" Draco asked, puzzled.
He always felt Father exuded an aura of conspiracy.
"It's nothing. Stay away from those blood traitors, Draco. In the new school year, you'd better focus on playing Quidditch well." Lucius had composed himself, looking at the rows of neatly arranged racing brooms in the shop, and reverted to the arrogant, aloof, and domineering head of the Malfoy family.
Draco felt a little guilty. He'd already been spending time with Harry and the others and didn't plan to distance himself from them in the future.
But how could he explain this to Father? He'd never hidden his prejudice on the issue of bloodlines.
Expecting him to suddenly become reasonable and kind to Draco's blood traitor friends, or even his Muggle-born friends, was harder than getting Lucius to cut off his platinum hair.
Draco was so worried that he overlooked the strange malice that had just flashed in Father's attitude.
Lucius was convinced his son's sudden dejection was because he was thinking about how to make a name for himself in the Quidditch tryouts.
"Stand tall—what are you afraid of? The Malfoy name is your source of confidence!" He softened his tone, patted his son's shoulder, then turned to the shop assistant behind the counter with a slightly arrogant attitude and said, "Have those racing brooms I ordered arrived? The ones Mr. Twonk specifically set aside..."
"Brand new brooms, just waiting for you! Several customers have asked about them, but we told them we were out of stock!" The assistant smiled broadly at Lucius, then shouted loudly toward the workshop behind her, "Bring over Mr. Malfoy's new batch of brooms..."
That concluded the conversation between the Malfoy father and son.