A Hogwarts Legend: Changing Paths [3]

Chapter Two

Unedited

Chapter Two - "My hairstyle today is called I tried."

Several days later, my parents funereal has passed and Harry and I are falling into a comfortable routine.

We eat breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where I like 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 woollen balaclava.

After breakfast Harry and I go out into the back yard, take out our wands, tap the third brick from the left above the dustbin, and stand back as the archway into Diagon Alley opens in the wall.

We spend the long sunny days exploring the shops and editing under the brightly coloured umbrellas outside cafés, where our fellow diners are showing each other 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 and I do our homework sitting in the bright sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, finishing all our essays with the occasional help from Florean Fortescue's himself, who, apart from knowing a great deal about medieval witch-burnings, gives us free sundaes every half hour.

Once I've refilled my money bag it's very hard not to spend it all. I have to keep reminding myself that I have five years to go at Hogwarts, and how I wont have anyone to ask for money (all my parents money has been transferred to my vault), to stop myself buying a awesome 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). I'm sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the galaxy in a large glass ball, which would mean I'd never have to take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tests my resolution most appears in my favourite shop, beside the book shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, two weeks after I arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop is staring at, Harry and I edge our way inside and squeeze in amongst the excited witches and wizards until I glimpse a newly erected (lol) podium on which is mounted the most magnificent broom I've ever seen in my life.

"Just come out ... prototype ..." a square-jawed wizard is telling his companion.

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaks a boy younger than me, who's swinging off his father's arm.

"Irish International Side's just out in an order for seven of them beauties!" the proprietor of the shop tells the crowd. "And they're favourites for the World Cup."

A large witch in front of me moves, and I'm able to read the sign next to the broom.

THE FIREBOLT

This state-of-the-art racing broom sports a streamlined, super-fine 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 0-150 miles an hour in ten seconds and incorporates an unbreakable braking charm. Price on request.

Price on request ... I don't wan to even think about how much gold that would cost. I want it so much though, but I don't need it. I have to drag Harry away, but we return every day just to look at the Firebolt.