Wednesday had finally come.
Amisty sat in the kitchen, munching down the last few pieces of her sandwich as she waited for the rest to finish.
Mrs. Weasley handed her a warm coat before taking down a flowerpot from the mantel.
"We're running low, Arthur. We'll have to buy some more today..." She commented, looking down at whatever was in the pot. "Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry, dear!"
"Um... I don't quite understand..." He fiddled with her hands, looking up at them in confusion.
"They've never traveled by Floo powder before. Sorry, Harry, I forgot," Ron piped up quickly.
"Never? But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"We went on the Underground --" Amisty replied for him.
"Really? Were there escapators? How exactly --" Mr. Weasley started.
"Not now, Arthur. Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before --" Mrs. Weasley fretted.
"He'll be alright, Mum. Harry, watch us first," Fred interrupted, taking out a pinch of powder from the pot and throwing it into the fireplace.
The fire roared, turning an emerald green. Fred stepped into the heart of the flames.
"Diagon Alley!" He shouted before disappearing.
Amisty blinked, and blinked again. She was struggling to process what just happened.
"You must speak very clearly, dear. And be sure to get out at the right grate..." Mrs. Weasley explained.
George replicated Fred's actions, disappearing with a rush of air as well.
"The right what?" Harry asked nervously.
Amisty's gaze was captured by the fireplace, still in awe.
"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly --" Mrs. Weasley started to reply.
"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," Mr. Weasley scolded gently, picking up more Floo powder and stepping into the fireplace.
"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle," Mrs. Weasley urged desperately.
"They wouldn't mind. Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that--" Harry reassured, his voice laced with optimism.
"Well... alright... you go after Arthur and Amisty'll go after you... Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going," Mrs. Weasley began.
"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron added.
"And your eyes shut. The soot --" She warned.
"Don't fidget. Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace --" Ron interrupted.
"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George," Mrs. Weasley overtook the conversation once more.
Harry nodded hesitantly, taking a scoop of the powder, throwing it into the hearth, and stepping in.
The flames curled around him. He took a deep breath, choking on the ash that swirled up into his throat.
"D-Diagon Alley," He coughed out meekly before disappearing just like the two before him. Amisty took a step forward, pinching up some of the Floo powder, and threw it into the fire.
Once again, the flames turned a bright green. She walked in, the flames enveloping her like a blanket.
"Diagon Alley!" She yelled, relieved that her voice was clear.
Immediately, she felt magic surge through her body. It felt as if she were spinning like a top, round and round and round.
She forced her eyes to stay open, tucking her elbows to her sides just like what the Weasleys had told her.
Different hearths flashed by, all of them unfamiliar and holding unfamiliar faces. That is, until an unfamiliar exit was accompanied by a familiar face.
Harry was standing in the middle of a shop, his glasses snapped down the middle. Before the exit could disappear Amisty leaped out, luckily landing on her feet next to him.
"Amisty! What're you doing here?" He asked, suppressing his coughs as he held his glasses up to his face.
She looked around, taking in the haunting surroundings.
Masks glared down at them from the walls, with many sickening looking weapons hanging from the ceiling and a pile of bones on the counter.
"I saw you through the fireplaces. Got lost?" She replied simply, brushing off some of the soot coating her clothes.
"Yeah, let's get out of here," He started off toward the exit, Amisty at his side, before they both stopped in their tracks.
Two people were walking toward the shop, having yet to notice them.
Harry looked around wildly, grabbing Amisty's hand and pulling her into a black cabinet, shutting the doors behind her.
She opened her mouth to ask what it was all about only for him to hold a finger up to his lips.
There was a small crack between the cabinet doors, leaving them room to peer through. A bell jingled, followed by the sound of a door opening.
Now she knew why he had dragged her in there.
Malfoy and an older man, presumably his father, had just walked into the shop.
"Touch nothing, Draco," The older man warned, his eyes scanning the items on display as he tapped a bell on the counter.
"I thought you were going to buy me a present," Draco replied, withdrawing his hand from the case he was reaching for.
Amisty covered her mouth with her hand, hoping her snort had gone unnoticed. Harry looked over at her, grinning.
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," His father's voice was just as dull as his own.
The man ran his fingertips against the countertop.
"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team? Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play Gryffindor. He's not even good, it's just because he's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead," He ranted bitterly, kneeling down over a shelf covered in skulls. "Everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick--"
"You have told me this at least a dozen times already. And I would remind you that it is not -- prudent -- to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear -- ah, Mr. Borgin." Mr. Malfoy replied, shifting his attention toward the man who had slithered up behind the counter.
It took all of her self control not to come bursting out of the cabinet and lobbing them both on the head.
"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again. Delighted -- and young Master Malfoy, too -- charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced --" Mr. Borgin's voice was lathered with respect and trickery, the common voice of a shop owner.
Amisty was familiar with this type. They had products she knew were not worth the amount they were sold for.
"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," Mr. Malfoy interrupted.
Apparently rudeness ran in the family.
"Selling?" Mr. Borgin asked, clearly not happy with being the one paying.
"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids. I have a few -- ah -- items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call..." He replied smoothly.
Amisty itched with suspicion, trading glances with Harry.
"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?" Mr. Borgin questioned, his eyes scanning the list Mr. Malfoy had handed him.
"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act -- no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear --" Mr. Malfoy replied, a heavy weight on his words.
Amisty took deep, controlled breaths, struggling to keep calm. The insults to the family who had taken her in with such open arms sending anger racing through her veins.
"I understand, sir, of course. Let me see..." Mr. Borgin nodded, peering over the list more intently this time.
"Can I have that?" Draco suddenly spoke.
Amisty leaned closer to the crack between the doors, curious as to what he was referring to. There was a hand resting atop a purple velvet cushion.
"Ah, the Hand of Glory! Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir," Mr. Borgin scrambled over to Draco.
"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," Mr. Malfoy replied harshly.
"No offense, sir, no offense meant--" Mr. Borgin held up his hands hurriedly, his face ashen.
"Though if his grades don't pick up that may indeed be all he is fit for --" Mr. Malfoy continued, his voice frigid.
"It's not my fault. The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger --" Draco protested.
Amisty glared through the crack.
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," Mr. Malfoy interrupted.
"Ha!" Harry murmured.
The two hiders high fived quietly, grinning at the taken aback expression on the blonde's face.
"It's the same all over. Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere," Mr. Borgin commented lazily.
"Not with me," Mr. Malfoy snapped.
"No, sir, nor with me, sir," Mr. Borgin bowed lowly.
Amisty snorted under her breath, suck up.
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list. I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today --" Mr. Malfoy replied briskly.
The two men resumed their conversation, but Amisty's attention had shifted. Draco was inching closer and closer toward their hiding place.
Now he was studying a long coil of rope with a smirk. When he turned, she felt her breath catch in her throat.
Though it was nearly impossible for her to be seen, if felt as if his cold, silver eyes had spotted her hiding in the cabinet.
Slowly, he reached for the handle. His fingertips had just barely brushed the surface when Mr. Malfoy stepped back from the counter.
"Done. Come, Draco," Mr. Malfoy announced.
Draco sent one last look at the cabinet, his gaze seeming to hold her's before he joined his father's side.
Harry wiped his sleeve against his forehead as Amisty let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.
"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods," Mr. Malfoy nodded stiffly, walking out of the shop, Draco at his tail, with the bell jingling behind them.
"Good day to yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor..." Mr. Borgin grumbled, trudging into the back of the shop.
The two waited few, tense minutes before leaving the cabinet and slipping through the front door.
Their uneasiness didn't fade, however, instead remaining strong as ever. The street ahead of them was nothing like the warm, cheerful path of Diagon Alley. Instead it was dark and cold, crawling with hidden menace.
Amisty felt her guard go up. Harry took her hand in his own, the familiarity of it barely giving her any comfort.
They walked through the street, peering over their shoulders and on high alert. She glanced around warily, catching sight of a sign hanging over a candle shop. Knockturn Alley.
"Not lost are you, my dears?" A strange voice whispered in their ears, shocking them both.
Amisty leaped forward, whirling around to come face to face with an elderly witch, a tray in her hand.
She suppressed a gag as the items, which looked like human fingernails, came into her full plain of view.
Her gaze held malice and threat, sending alarm bells amok in Amisty's mind. The two friends took a step back quickly, eyes filled with poorly concealed fear.
"We're fine, thanks," Harry replied hastily, "We're just--"
"HARRY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?" Hagrid's relievingly familiar voice bellowed, "And Amisty, too?"
They leaped away from the witch, brightening at the sight of their friend, his form towering over the rest of the street's occupants.
"Hagrid! We were lost -- Floo powder --" Harry started, only for the two of them to be picked up and dragged away, in the process knocking the unsettling witch's tray clattering to the cobblestone.
She screeched after them, but her calls fell on deaf ears.
Amisty breathed a sigh of relief as sunlight spilled back onto the streets.
"Yeh two are a mess! Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno -- dogy place -- don' want no one ter see yeh down there --" Hagrid scolded, sweeping off the soot that had covered Harry.
Amisty, luckily, had escaped most of the ash since she had chosen to get out of the fireplace at Knockturn Alley.
She wasn't going to tell anyone that, though.
"We realized that. I told you, we were lost -- what were you doing down there, anyway?" Harry replied, evading Hagrid's second attempt at cleaning him off.
"I was lookin' fer a Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent. They're ruinin' the school cabbages. Yer not alone, are yeh?" He quickly turned the subject back onto the two.
"We were staying with the Weasleys but we got separated. Have you seen them?" Amisty piped up.
"Not yet, here, I'll walk yeh back," And he turned with the two of them trailing at his side's.
They all walked down the street, hopefully in the direction of Diagon Alley.