HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 68: The Sullen Crookshanks

On the bustling street of Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger was attempting to squeeze through a cluster of excited witches and wizards.

The sunlight was blinding, and the summer heat dampened her forehead. She tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear and awkwardly squeezed through the narrow gap between two girls.

Not far away, a young boy was shouting enthusiastically, "Is this the fastest broom in the world, Dad?"

"Son, I don't think you need this yet—" the father said awkwardly.

"Firebolts! Just arrived—sample models only—" the Quality Quidditch Supplies proprietor shouted to the potential customers surrounding him.

Draco would be extremely interested. She glanced sideways at the crowd and caught sight of a corner of a broom. Its twigs were sleek and uniform, and the craftsmanship was exquisite—more refined than any broomstick she'd ever seen. He would definitely fancy it.

Though a thousand thoughts raced through her mind, her steps didn't falter. Her gaze swept hurriedly over barrels of bat spleens and eel eyes, and over a general store piled high with spellbooks, quills, rolls of parchment, potion phials, and lunascopes, before finally peering into the window of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

A pale-faced boy with a pointed chin stood on a footstool, waiting for the shop assistant to take his measurements.

"Draco!" Hermione beamed. She called his name loudly and skipped lightly into the shop.

"Hermione." His eyes lit up, and he jumped off the footstool to greet her.

"Ron wasn't lying! He told me he thought he'd spotted you around here, so I came to try my luck." She said happily. "I thought you wouldn't come to Diagon Alley. Aren't your parents worried about your safety? They even banned owl post."

"They're being overly cautious. But it's acceptable today. Father said nearly all the Aurors have been deployed to Diagon Alley. It should be the safest place in all of Britain right now," Draco explained.

"Oh, that makes sense. I've noticed some suspicious people in the Leaky Cauldron—they're always glancing about furtively." Hermione suddenly understood.

"Are you staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight?" Draco asked perceptively.

"Yes, Harry and Ron are staying there today as well. Mr. Weasley was so kind—he offered me transport to King's Cross Station. I haven't seen Harry yet, but I expect he'll arrive soon..." Hermione said excitedly.

"Excellent," Draco said flatly.

It seemed she'd had a fulfilling month without him—she felt no emptiness whatsoever.

"Are you staying at the Leaky Cauldron too?" Hermione asked, scrutinizing him curiously. He looked rather pale—hadn't he been resting properly lately? He was completely different from when she'd seen him in Bath.

"No, my family owns property in London," Draco said, his tone subdued.

"So—you came alone today?" Hermione glanced around.

"Mother is purchasing my books, and Father is acquiring potion ingredients and such," Draco said casually, looking out the shop window. "Where are Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"

"Oh, they dropped me at the Leaky Cauldron and then left. Well, after you finish getting measured, shall we get some ice cream? Ron and I already agreed to meet there," Hermione said cheerfully.

"I'm afraid there won't be sufficient time. I'll have to leave immediately after my measurements are taken. Enjoy yourselves," Draco said, looking somewhat disappointed.

He didn't know what caused that sudden feeling of loss. He wanted to smile at her, but he felt a tightness in his throat and couldn't manage it.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look.

Just as she was about to say something comforting, a thin female shop assistant arrived with a tape measure and pins, ready to take Draco's measurements.

"Those not purchasing clothes, please wait outside. It's too crowded in here!" the shop assistant said irritably.

"What sort of attitude is this?" Draco fixed her with a cold stare. "Is this how you treat customers?"

The shop assistant was about to retort when Hermione interrupted.

"It's fine, Draco, I'm leaving now." She shook her head slightly at Draco, signaling him not to lose his temper. She waved to him. "See you on the train tomorrow!"

Then the girl apologized to the shop assistant and hurriedly exited Madam Malkin's.

Draco watched Hermione's departing figure—her long, wavy brown hair stood out in the crowd.

She'd come and gone like the wind, leaving after exchanging only a few words.

She seemed perfectly happy, whether he was present or not.

He stood on the footstool again, absently allowing the shop assistant to slip a dark green robe over him.

Through the shop window, he saw Harry walking toward him from the other end of the street. Hermione appeared delighted and rushed over to embrace Harry.

They hugged for several seconds. Then they said something, grinned, and happily walked together toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

She didn't even hug him. She'd just smiled at him. Draco thought darkly, feeling as though a weight pressed upon his chest.

He was stiffly manipulated by the oblivious shop assistant, feeling as if he were being pricked with needles.

"Where exactly are you going to stick that pin?" he said curtly.

"Pardon me. Don't be so tetchy!" The shop assistant was startled, then responded defensively.

"Be careful!" he said haughtily, watching Hermione and Harry gradually disappear into the crowd.

"I understand." The shop assistant nodded silently, shooting the short-tempered young customer a disdainful look behind his back.

At that very moment, the people responsible for Draco's sullen mood were seated at Florean Fortescue's, admiring Ron's new wand.

"It's willow with a unicorn hair core." Ron carefully stowed it away with delight. "It's far more responsive than Charlie's old wand."

"It's beautiful! I've heard that willow is particularly good for non-verbal spell work," Hermione said.

"My mother used a willow wand," Harry said. "Mr. Ollivander once told me that willow wands are excellent for Charm work."

Hearing this, Ron was thrilled.

The group of friends enjoyed generous portions of ice cream in the sunshine, updating each other on their summer holiday activities.

The conversation shifted from "the twins nearly locked Percy in a pyramid" to "the peculiar objects in the Black family townhouse at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," and finally, Hermione spoke with concern about Draco.

"I think he must be dreadfully bored at home. I just encountered him, and he looked so listless and forlorn," she said, frowning.

After they'd parted, she'd worried about him—he hadn't looked well at all.

"I can understand how he feels. When Uncle Vernon confined me, I couldn't contact anyone, and that was a terrible feeling," Harry said sympathetically.

"He'll be free soon. He can return to Hogwarts tomorrow," Ron reassured them, taking a large, satisfied bite of ice cream. "Let me see your Gobstones," he said to Harry. "I've wanted to examine them for ages."

Harry temporarily forgot about Draco's frustration at being confined. He excitedly produced his birthday present and showed his best friend his Gobstones, which gleamed brightly in the sun. Before long, the two best friends were engaged in a fierce match.

Hermione's attention wasn't on Gobstones.

She pondered for a moment, opened her purse to check her allowance, and said to the boys mid-game, "I need to leave for a bit. I want to purchase myself a birthday present."

"What are you buying? Books?" Ron asked, feigning ignorance.

"I'm getting a pet." She glared at Ron, annoyed. "I want an owl too. Harry has Hedwig, you have Pigwidgeon—I want one as well... for delivering post and such..."

Instead of waiting for other owls to deliver letters so she could conveniently return them herself.

"Look, there's the Magical Menagerie over there," Harry said, dodging the foul-smelling liquid spraying from the Gobstones. "Do you need us to accompany you?"

"No need, you play." She glanced disapprovingly at the stinking liquid from the Gobstones, left that remark, and hurried toward the shop.

Hermione returned after Harry and Ron finished their first Gobstones match.

She wasn't carrying any owls, but rather cradling a large ginger cat.

"Where's your owl?" Harry asked in surprise, eyeing the cat, which looked rather bad-tempered, with suspicion.

The cat had a squashed face and an odd, flattened appearance, as though it had once run headlong into a brick wall. It had been purring contentedly in Hermione's arms, but suddenly awoke and fixed Harry with a piercing stare.

"I bought this cat. Look how handsome he is!" Hermione said, stroking its soft, fluffy fur with delight. "I'm going to call him Crookshanks."

Harry and Ron exchanged a meaningful glance and wisely decided not to debate with Hermione about what constituted "handsome."

They hastily gathered the Gobstones and walked back to the Leaky Cauldron along the cobbled street.

As they passed Flourish and Blotts, they spotted a large iron cage behind the window, containing approximately a hundred copies of The Monster Book of Monsters tangled together, apparently brawling viciously. Behind the cage stood a perspiring clerk, preparing to don a pair of thick dragonhide gloves to retrieve books for several impatient customers.

"That book's a menace. I don't know what sort of professor would assign it," Ron said, exasperated. Through the window, you could hear the shop assistant yelping as a book bit her.

"Do you know how to silence that book?" Hermione asked, irritated. Her copy was bound tightly in a separate metal box and constantly made banging noises.

"Oh, I do. Sirius told me to stroke the spine. It actually works," Harry grinned.

"Are you certain?" Hermione asked.

"Absolutely," Harry said confidently.

"Wait for me a moment," Hermione said.

She rushed straight into Flourish and Blotts and spoke to the clerk whose arm was being gnawed by a book. The clerk looked relieved and stroked the spine, which immediately calmed the book.

Through the shop window, Harry watched the clerk thank Hermione gratefully, and Hermione waved to the sweating clerk before quickly exiting the bookshop and rejoining them.

"Honestly, does she have to help everyone?" Ron muttered to Harry.

Hermione glared at him, then followed the flow of people, passing the Firebolt display again. Harry and Ron trailed behind her, glancing at the display several times before halting completely.

"Harry, do you fancy this?" Sirius Black's voice suddenly came from behind them.

"Sirius!" Harry heard the voice, turned to greet his godfather, and asked sheepishly, "How did you know I fancied it?"

The Black family members were all exceptionally tall, standing out prominently in the crowd. As he spoke, Sirius cautiously surveyed the bustling throng, as though wary of encountering danger.

He wore a somewhat arrogant expression, but his grey eyes were gentle as he regarded Harry. "I gave you your first toy broomstick when you were small, so naturally I know."

"What? I had a toy broomstick as a child?" Harry asked in astonishment. "I had no idea—"

"Of course. Your mother wrote to me then, saying you absolutely loved that broom. I wish I'd had the chance to watch you compete. You know, the way you look at broomsticks is exactly like your father." Sirius smiled faintly.

For a moment, it seemed as though he were seeing his best friend through Harry.

At this point, Ron and Hermione turned and regarded Sirius with curiosity. He didn't lose focus for long, keenly sensing their attention. He smiled kindly at them and said, "Oh, you must be Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, yes? Mrs. Weasley sent me to find you—time to return to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner."

So they joined the Weasleys for a lively meal, and finally settled comfortably into several armchairs in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron.

During their conversation, Hermione mentioned what she'd witnessed at the pet shop.

"When I entered the Magical Menagerie, an Auror was inspecting the rats' cages, making sure they all still had their toes... Isn't that absurd?" Hermione asked, her expression incredulous.

"They probably think Peter Pettigrew's up to his old tricks again, disguising himself as a pet rat or something. Speaking of which, there are so many Aurors in Diagon Alley today. I spotted several of Dad's colleagues from the Ministry... I thought they'd all been dispatched to hunt Peter Pettigrew," Ron said.

"If I'm not mistaken, in a way, it's because of me," Harry calmly confided to his friends. "Draco told me ages ago that Peter Pettigrew might be searching for one of us."

"How would he know? Even Dad didn't know, and he works at the Ministry!" Ron asked in surprise.

"I suspect Mr. Weasley probably knew already. He was likely worried you'd be frightened," Harry said.

He simply extracted the letter Draco had written him and showed it to them. Ron was stunned by the letter's contents, and Hermione held it for a long while before covering her mouth.

Hermione was extremely worried.

She'd only known that Peter Pettigrew had escaped from prison, but she hadn't realized there was such a sinister element—that the prisoner had spoken those words, which sounded very targeted.

Both Draco and Harry were in grave danger. No wonder Draco had rushed home immediately.

"You must be extremely careful, Harry, and don't seek out trouble." After a lengthy pause, Hermione finally found her voice and said fearfully.

Ron asked worriedly, "Harry, do you truly think he's coming for you?"

"Perhaps it's me, perhaps it's Draco, perhaps it's someone else entirely." Looking at them, Harry grew somewhat irritated. "Why are you both acting so terrified?"

"Nobody knows how he escaped from Azkaban—nobody's ever done it before," Ron said uneasily.

Harry opened his mouth as though to speak, but then hesitated and stopped.

He wanted to share Draco's theory, but Sirius seemed reluctant to discuss it.

"They'll capture him, won't they? Those Aurors?" Hermione said earnestly.

"Don't forget, he can transform into a rat. Aurors can inspect pet shops, but they can't possibly examine every single rat in Diagon Alley. I don't believe the sewers here are rat-free," Harry said sarcastically.

"Tell me, why would he pursue you? Would he capture you or kill you? Does he think that by dealing with you, You-Know-Who can return?" Ron asked.

"Voldemort," Harry corrected him firmly.

The three of them abruptly fell silent.

Crookshanks mewed softly on Hermione's lap, its bushy tail swaying from side to side, nearly striking Harry. Harry frowned, paying no attention to the cat's unusual behavior.

"Have you all forgotten who possesses the most powerful magic in the wizarding world today? It's Professor Dumbledore. As long as he's at Hogwarts, nobody dares cause trouble!" Hermione said after a pause, affecting cheerfulness.

"Exactly." Ron's eyes brightened, and he added, "And perhaps he's after me!" He joked, then was alarmed by the possibility in his own jest and shrank back.

"Did you tell Sirius about this?" Hermione asked.

"Sirius isn't afraid at all—he even taught me some dark curses!" Harry smiled at them easily.

"Has he been staying home with you all summer?" Hermione asked with interest.

"He's home most of the time—he prefers to stay in his room. But I've seen him slip out of Grimmauld Place several times late at night," Harry said. "He seems rather suspicious of everything."

"Azkaban must have damaged him terribly..." Ron said with some trepidation.

"That place must be horrific," Harry agreed. "I found some old photographs of him recently, and he looks completely different now. He's still rather gaunt, but he's recovered somewhat since a month ago. He's somewhat quiet, but he's very kind to me."

"What's the Black family townhouse like? I heard the Blacks are a very ancient wizarding family—they should have house-elves," Ron asked curiously. His mother had been complaining recently that they needed a house-elf.

"There's a very old house-elf, but he's gone barmy and doesn't like us much. Grimmauld Place is quite grand, but it hasn't been properly cleaned in years. Thanks to Dobby from Draco's family—he stayed at Grimmauld Place for several days, helping us clean and removing loads of dangerous Dark artifacts," Harry said.

"Oh, Dobby. I know him," Hermione said, recalling how Dobby would often open doors for her in Bath. "He's a lovely elf. Very clever and helpful."

"That sounds brilliant," Ron said enviously.

They didn't get a chance to continue their conversation when Mrs. Weasley approached them, hands on her hips, and ordered them upstairs to bed.

The drowsiness seemed contagious. They yawned as they climbed the creaky stairs of the Leaky Cauldron, returned to their rooms, and soon drifted off to sleep.