The Boy Who Hid

Chapter Six

FOR A FAMOUS PLACE it sure didn't look like it. For one it was dark and shabby. There were a few old women in the corner that were drinking sherry. One was smoking a long pipe. A little man was talking to the bartender who looked like a bald, toothless, walnut. Hagrid seemed to be a local, Thomas thought, with the way people were waving to him.

"The usual, Hagrid?" asked the bartender, the giant shook his head no.

"Can't Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business." he said and placed a large hand on Thomas and Harry's shoulder.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, looking at Harry up and down, and Thomas was right. All they cared about was Harry, because he was the boy who lived. Thomas rolled his and went to sit down at an abandoned chair while Harry was greeted by his fans. "Is this-can this be?" The pub went silent for a moment. "Bless my soul," the bartender whispered, "It's Harry Potter, what an honour."

As soon as those words were uttered people swarmed around Harry, people shaking his hands, tears of joy in their hands. Thomas rolled his eyes yet again, the wizarding world will be such a blast. Shoved in the shadows because of the light from his older twin brother. From what it looked like,  Harry didn't like all the attention, all the people shaking his hand, to be honest he looked overwhelmed. There was one person that caught his eye, he was a younger man maybe mid or late twenties and his eye twitched continuously.

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid said in a loud voice, startling the Professor. "Harry, Tommy, this is Professor Quirrell, he'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts...wait where is Tommy?"

"He's o-o-over there," the professor stuttered gesturing where he was sitting, Thomas bowed his head in greeting to the professor who sent him a tentative jerk of the head in response. "P-P-Potter c-can't t-tell how pleased I am t-to m-meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor?" Harry asked.

"D-D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts," he muttered as if he would rather not think about it. "N-N-Not the you n-need it, eh P-P-Potters? You'll be ggetting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, mmyself." He looked terrified at the very thought. The others there at the club wouldn't let the Professor have all the attention, it took around maybe ten minutes to get away from all of them.

"Must get on- lots ter buy. Come on you two," Hagrid said, Thomas followed his brother and the giant out into a less busy area of the club.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Thomas asked. It wasn't natural for someone to be that nervous. It couldn't be because Harry was there. No one would have that strong of a reaction.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" That would explain some things but even because of that it wasn't normal,  but then again Thomas wasn't even sure he knew the definition of normal anymore, anyway. Hagrid muttered something to himself and then tapped the wall in a few different places and they shuddered. Moving until they saw a black door.

Please be a secret door, please be a secret door, please be a secret door... Yay!, Thomas thought. Apparently if you tap an umbrella on a wall in a special order it leads you to a secret door. Who knew?

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Hagrid said grandly, Thomas' eyes shot wide, shocked that he wasn't in a dream. This all felt like a dream. There was a place to get Cauldron's from pewter to self collapsible, another shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium, where there were screech owls, snowy owls, and even an eagle owl. Several boys around Harry and Thomas's age had their noses pressed up against a window with a sleek looking broomstick. Thomas caught snippets of what they were something, and his brows furrowed when he heard the say "It's the fastest model yet," the brooms weren't for cleaning? There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...