- The Leaky Cauldron, London -
With a pop, Harry and McGonagall appeared in front of what looked to be an old, broken-down shop. Crowds of people walked by them as if having not noticed that two people just appeared out of thin air. Curiously, the tourists in the crowd who were staring up at the buildings, seemed to completely miss the broken-down shop as if it wasn't even there.
All of this was missed by Harry though; who was too busy bracing himself on his knees as he tried to keep from throwing up all over the street. 'That was even worse than I thought.' He thought, clamping a hand over his mouth as his stomach rebelled against the Apparition.
What he could recall from the memories that Death had returned to him, Apparition was described as the feeling of being forced through a very tight, rubber tube. 'Only thing that someone forgot to mention…is that it also feels like the 'tube' in question is twisting and curving in multiple directions.'
Taking several deep breaths, Harry slowly straightened up as his stomach settled. From his side, McGonagall commented. "It will get easier the more you experience it."
Looking up at McGonagall's understanding smile, Harry gave a relieved sigh as the urge to puke faded. Now able to look around, Harry spotted the broken-down old shop in front of them.
Pausing, he noticed something odd about it. Keeping his focus on the building, he watched as its appearance began to ripple, as if he was staring at a reflection in water. Within moments, the illusionary façade faded away as the front of a pub was revealed.
An old, weathered sign hung down above the door reading:
The Leaky Cauldron
Motioning for Harry to follow her, McGonagall opened the old wooden door before stepping through the doorway. Cautiously, he glanced at the building again to make sure the appearance hadn't changed before following the professor inside.
…
Once inside, Harry took in the dark and shabby interior of the small, dingy pub that oddly had a feeling of welcome that put him at ease.
Looking around at the people inside, he noticed a few old women sitting at a table in the corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry as one of them smoked from a long pipe; exhaling a uniquely blueish smoke from her lips.
In front of him, a bald, toothless old bartender made his way from behind the counter toward them. "Professor McGonagall!" The bartender greeted warmly, "Good mornin' to ya."
Smiling pleasantly at the jovial man, McGonagall replied. "Good morning, Tom. Is the room ready for us?"
'Room?' Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion, wracking his brain to try and recall if McGonagall had spoken about a room, only to come up short as that wasn't in their earlier conversation.
"Yes! Just got it ready for ya. If both of ya willl follow me." Tom nodded, leading them towards the stairs that led up to the second floor.
Following behind Tom and McGonagall up to the second floor and down a dark hallway, Harry's eyes roamed left and right over the plain doors on either side of the hallway; a single gold number differentiating between their otherwise identical appearances.
Reaching a door at the end of the hall, Tom opened it before stepping out of the way. "This is your room. If ya need anythin' to eat or drink, I'll be downstairs at the bar."
Glancing into the room for a moment, McGonagall turned to thank him. "Thank you, Tom…that will be all for now."
With a quite nod, Tom moved past them back down the hallway before disappearing down the stairs, leaving them alone in the dimly lit hall.
…
Looking back towards McGonagall, she waited to get Harry's attention before glancing towards the room. "Before we head into Diagon Alley, I'd like to speak to you privately for a moment." Motioning for him to step in first, she continued. "If you'll step inside, Mr. Potter."
Following along, he cautiously moved into the small room, spotting a single set of furniture in it. There was a simple wooden table and two chairs set up next to a window that overlooked the crowded street.
Glancing back at the door, he watched as McGonagall shut the door behind her, before drawing her wand to silently cast a spell. Suddenly, he realized that the sounds echoing through the door from the first floor had disappeared.
"Um, Professor…What's going on?" He asked hesitantly, a bead of sweat running down his neck at the realization that he might be in danger.
Turning to face him, McGonagall noticed his worried look and explained herself. "I apologize for the confusion Mr. Potter." Pocketing the wand, she inclined her head towards the table. "If you'll kindly take a seat, I will attempt to explain."
Moving towards the table, the two of them took a seat facing each other before she began. "I'd like to start us off by saying that anything we talk about in this room will be kept in the strictest of confidence... Nothing you say here will be revealed to anyone else."
Blinking, Harry slowly nodded, "O-kay..."
Taking a small breath, McGonagall shifted in her seat for a moment, unsure as to how she wanted to begin what will no doubt be a difficult conversation. "After receiving your letter, I noticed something in it that I had concerns with…and after speaking with the Headmaster, it was decided that I would take over your trip through Diagon Alley."
'So, she asked Dumbledore about it?' Harry mused, 'I wonder how that conversation went.'
Clearing her throat, she tried to be carefully word her next sentence without overstepping her boundaries. "Mr. Potter…no, Harry. When I arrived at your residence, I noticed you walking out of what looked to be a cupboard. In your letter, it stated that your bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs…" A frown marred her lips at the notion.
Pausing there, as if afraid of the response she'll get, she hesitantly asked. "I…is that a temporary situation, or is that cupboard where you actually sleep?"
Confirming her fears, Harry replied, "It's where I've always slept..."
Taking a deep breath through her nose to keep calm, McGonagall pressed on. "And…have the Dursleys ever hurt you physically?" Her hands, currently resting on her lap underneath the table, clenched hard enough for her knuckles to turn white as she waited for his answer.
"Not really." Harry shook his head, raven-black locks shifting with the movement. "Only once or twice, but they haven't done that in a long time… They mostly just like to yell or call me names."
Internally sighing in relief that he wasn't being physically abused, she asked him to clarify that last part. "They call you names? What names in particular?"
The very notion that adults would resort to something like name-calling sounded strange, even tame, considering the Dursleys didn't care about having the boy sleep inside of a cupboard.
"Usually, they call me 'freak', and until I started school, I thought that was actually my name." Harry admitted. "But they've stopped calling me that and usually just call me 'boy' now."
Leaning back in her seat, she mulled over the new information. 'So, things are not as bad as I feared, but still unacceptable. To result to name calling, and making him live in a confined space over their hatred of magic…I will be having words with them when we return.'
Their actions, while not the worst she had ever seen or heard of, were a great deal worse than what a child should have had to go through. And that's if you don't take into account the enormous risk in magical children growing up in hostile households. If Harry had been abused, whether verbally or physically enough that he tried to suppress his magic, it's quite possible that he would have ended up as an Obscurial.
Obscurials were a magical child who had developed a dark magical parasite, known as an Obscurus, as a result of their magic being suppressed through physical or psychological abuse.
Refocusing her attention on Harry, McGonagall expressed her apologies. "I'm sorry you've had to go through such things, Harry."
Hesitantly, she added. "I-I must admit that some of the blame for placing you in the Dursley's care, rests on my shoulders." McGonagall ashamedly admitted. "When your parents died, you were to be brought to the Dursleys as your last living relatives."
Her eyes glanced down at the table, unable to stare into his emerald-green eyes that reminded her of Lily as she continued. "I watched over them that day, and had seen for myself how unfit they were…and yet, when the time came to hand you over to them, I did not put up as much of a fight as I should have."
"I trusted a close friend when they said that there was no safer place for you." It's then that Harry heard her anger at herself begin seeping into her words. "I should have tried harder…and yet I backed down. Despite every instinct telling me otherwise, I allowed you to be placed under the Dursleys care."
"I'm so…so sorry Harry." She breathed out, her shoulders slumping at the realization of just how badly she had failed the boy sitting across from her.
The conversation stopped there. McGonagall's eyes now closed as a single tear fell, her guilt rendering her mute.
…
Stunned, Harry did nothing for a moment but watch her. 'Okay…this, I did not expect. I mean, she did try to warn Dumbledore against placing me with them, so it's not like she did nothing.'
Glancing at the single tear track that ran down her cheek, he frowned. 'I never expected her to be this upset when she learned the truth…mad, yes. But not this.' Harry felt a twinge of his own guilt at that. 'This is what happens when you change the story, Harry. Not everything goes the way you expect it to.'
Speaking up, he tried to console her. "It's alright Professor, I don't blame you… You tried to speak up for me, and that's more than anyone's ever done for me before." As an afterthought he added silently, 'Besides Death, of course…just in case she can here me.'
Not exactly the best way to cheer someone up, but he had never been one of those people who could liven up a situation easily.
Sniffing once to try and compose herself, McGonagall finally opened her eyes and looked into his own, staring into their emerald depths. 'So much like Lily's, and with the same compassion…He truly is her son.' Refocusing on the conversation, she gave a sad smile. "And yet I cannot help but feel I should have done more."
Trying to think of something else to say, but not able to come up with anything else, Harry decided to attempt a change of subject. "If that's true, then…maybe you could tell me something about my parents?"
Chuckling at his response, McGonagall cleared her throat as she subtly wiped the tear trail from her eye. "That is the least I can do, Harry." Smiling warmly at him, she asked. "Is there anything in particular you would like to know?"
Pausing, Harry thought over what his response should be. 'Seeing as how the Dursleys never said anything about them, besides repeating over and over that they had died in a car crash, maybe it's best to start with what I should know and get the full story from her.'
"Maybe start with how they died?" Harry replied with a shrug, "My Aunt and Uncle never told me anything, just that they died in a car crash."
McGonagall frowned angrily at that, disgusted at the Dursleys for covering up the Potter's sacrifice. She quickly spoke up to try and correct that.
"Your Aunt and Uncle lied to you, Harry. Your parents were not killed in a car crash." Deciding it best to backtrack to the beginning, McGonagall explained. "Let me start off by saying that your parents loved you very much. I had never seen them happier than on the day you were born…"
And for the next several minutes, McGonagall happily shared with Harry the story of Lily Evans and James Potter.
How they met at Hogwarts after being sorted in to Gryffindor; Lily's dislike towards James and his friends for their pranks and childish antics. How James eventually matured, proving himself to have finally grown into a man that Lily could love, and their subsequent marriage after leaving Hogwarts.
…And the start of the Civil Blood War that nearly destroyed Magical Britain.
It's here that McGonagall's voice took a darker turn. "You must understand Harry…That was a dark time for our community. No one knew who they could trust, and everyone was afraid."
"Many people, including those who were my friends, were killed in the war." Her eyes unfocused for a moment as she tried to remember all of their faces. "Many sought to hide themselves amongst the non-magicals, who were kept unaware of our struggle. Unfortunately, many found out quickly that, outside of Hogwarts, nowhere was safe…"
Thinking it best to chime in now, Harry asked, "Why was there a war? And how come non-magicals had no idea what was going on? "
His voice pulled her out of her daze as she explained. "Our world is…different from the non-magical world. And because of our differences, it was decided that, for the safety of our community -and the other magical communities abroad- that the magical world needed to separate itself from the non-magical."
"During that separation, all knowledge about magic was removed from the non-magicals…And we have endeavored to keep it that way ever since." Pausing, she reluctantly continued on to the next part in a more lecture-like tone as she tried to keep any biases from coloring her words.
"As for the Civil Blood War…" Memories of destroyed homes and a green symbol hovering over the crumbling remains flashed across her mind. "In our world, a person's ancestry is an integral part of society. A person who is born to magical parents, and the parents themselves come from magical ancestors, are considered to be 'pure of blood'…Or as it is more simply put, 'Pure-blood'."
"Those with magical parents, but whose ancestry has non-magicals in it, are known as 'Half-blood'." She motioned to Harry as she added, "Much like yourself, your mother Lily comes from two parents who are non-magic; thereby making you a Half-blood in our society."
Making sure that he was still focused and his thoughts hadn't drifted away, McGonagall continued. "Finally…there are those who are magical, but have parents who are non-magical. They are known as 'Muggle-born', 'muggle' being the term we in Magical Britain use to describe those who are non-magical."
"At the very top of our society, stands the families known as the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They are the first magical families in Britain, and can trace their magical lineage back centuries."
"They were integral in founding Britain's first magical community, and are considered the bedrock upon which our community's foundations are built; and their position in our society reflects that." She finished, taking a moment to catch her breath after the long-winded explanation.
As she did, Harry tried to remember if the Potter's were a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, ultimately drawing a blank as nothing came to mind. 'I guess it doesn't hurt to ask.'
"Was my family a member of this…Sacred Twenty-Eight?" He questioned, speaking up through the silence that had descended on the room.
Smiling, McGonagall shook her head negatively. "No, neither of your parents were. Your mother was a muggle-born." Her smile turning into a smirk as she continued. "As for your father's family, the Potters…At one time, they were considered to join them."
That was certainly news to Harry, who leaned forward eagerly as he asked, "What happened?"
Fondly, Minerva replied, "Your ancestors, the Potters, had a penchant for backing the rights of muggle-borns. As can be seen in your father's decision to marry a muggle-born himself, despite his pure-blood status."
"Because of this, they were kept out of the Sacred Twenty-Eight." She surmised, "The fact that Potter was a typical muggle name at the time, gave the Pure-bloods more credence to their claims. Truthfully, your family's attitude towards muggle-borns is considered, in some circles, to be the premier example for why the Civil Blood War was started."
Scrunching his eyebrows in confusion Harry asked, "What do you mean? How could my family's support of muggle-borns help cause a civil war?"
"Because of fear, Harry." McGonagall elaborated. "The old, pure-blood families were afraid that the rising numbers of muggle-borns would see their power taken away from them… They didn't use that reason, of course. Instead, they claimed that our community's history would be destroyed if muggle-borns continued bringing in ideas from the muggle world and trying to integrate them into ours."
Shaking her head at their stubbornness, she wondered to herself how their community had survived for as long as it had.
"To try and keep themselves in power, many of the pure-blood families banded together into a Pureblood Faction, and passed laws that restricted muggle-borns rights. Even outlawing their ability to reach certain positions in our society; like the position of Minister for Magic."
'No need to guess how that when over', Harry thought. "I'm guessing people didn't take that very well."
"That's correct." She nodded, "The muggle-borns, and even many of the half-bloods, were furious. Tensions began to mount, and out of that tension a powerful wizard arose; championing the Pureblood Faction's ideology."
"That wizard…to many in our society who are too fearful to speak his name, is known simply as You-Know-Who."
"You-Know-Who?" Harry questioned, the name sounding ridiculous even as he spoke it. "That's not really an original name."
"No," McGonagall chuckled, his response doing away with some of the dark atmosphere that had settled over the room. "I suppose it is not… But they are not without reason for fearing his name."
"Somehow, You-Know-Who had figured out a spell that allowed him to know the exact location of any who spoke his name in public." She frowned, remembering the horror that followed. "As a result, many innocents died within moments of speaking it aloud."
"That created a fear in people; the fear that an attack could happen at any moment should it be heard aloud… A fear, that it is still ingrained in many of the older generation's minds to this day, and one that has undoubtably been passed on to their children as well."
'That's right, he placed a Taboo on it in the storybooks and nearly got Harry killed multiple times before they figured it out.' Wanting to see if McGonagall would be brave enough to say it, Harry prodded. "Then…what was his name?"
Steeling herself, McGonagall grimaced as she answered. "His name…was V-Voldemort." Even though she had tried to not let it, a small stutter still slipped out. "And in all our world's history, he was the most feared Dark Lord to ever live. He was more magically powerful than anyone in our society, save the Headmaster; and he had the backing of the richest and most powerful pure-blood families."
"The most feared?" Harry asked, puzzled at the strange inflection she added to that part.
"Yes." Minerva nodded. "There have been several Dark Lords and Ladies in our world's history; the previous being the Dark Lord Grindelwald, who is considered to be the most powerful in our history for his ability to defeat countless witches and wizards in battle."
"Whereas You-Know-Who is considered to be the most feared due to how effective his methods were in creating panic and chaos wherever he went." She revealed. "Chaos and panic, which nearly lead to him succeeding in taking control of Magical Britain."
"Nearly?"
"Yes, nearly." McGonagall confirmed. "This is where your parents' death comes into the story."
Straightening up in his chair, Harry gave her his full attention as she began the last part of the story. "Your parents, like many others, went into hiding the moment you were born."
"At the time, magical travel outside of the country was made impossible, leaving hiding as the only option for many."
Interrupting, Harry tried to get some clarification on that. "Why couldn't people leave the country?"
After all, he had wondered many times why the Potters never simply fled the country, if they knew that Voldemort was coming for them. From what it sounded like, the worst was coming for Britain and a Dark Lord was about to take over. While running wasn't always the best option, if it meant saving your family then who cared.
Expecting the question, she answered. "Because it was considered a civil war."
Already knowing that he wouldn't understand the specifics she elaborated further. "As a way to allow magical communities more autonomy, other countries are forbidden from interfere in civil wars as long as it is kept within their borders. Therefore, magical communities in other countries were barred from rendering any form of aid or safe haven to those attempting to flee Britain."
"Oh." Harry replied, his eyebrows raising as the pieces finally started to come together in his head. It wasn't that his parents hadn't wanted to flee, it was that they couldn't.
With the interruption out of the way, McGonagall continued with her story. "One day, a year after your birth, Voldemort discovered your parents hiding place. And on Halloween night, he attacked them."
"No one knows why he did it…" She shrugged, "Perhaps to set an example for those who tried to flee, or perhaps it was simply out of cruelty. What we do know, is that while he succeeded in killing your parents…he failed to kill you."
Trying to get McGonagall to shed some light on that, he kept a frown from settling on his face. 'Hopefully, she doesn't believe it was because of some abstract power of love.' "What do you mean, he failed to kill me? How is that possible?"
"No one knows… The spell he cast on you has never failed to kill anyone before, or since."
"And yet…for some reason, the spell did not kill you. Leaving only that scar as proof of his attempt." McGonagall motioned towards the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
"So then what happened to him?"
Shrugging, McGonagall replied. "No one knows… Many believe he died, while others believe that the backlash of his spell's failing had somehow weakened him to the point that the Pureblood Faction killed him themselves upon his return. Having lost their belief that he was the all-powerful Dark Lord they thought he was…In the end, all anyone has are guesses."
Personally, she believed that Lily had something to do with the Dark Lord's disappearance. The girl had been incredibly resourceful in her time at Hogwarts, and McGonagall knew that if anyone was going to find a way to stop Voldemort from taking her son, it would have been Lily.
"It wasn't long after You-Know-Who visited your home, that many people began to awaken from what seemed to be a deep sleep. The spells You-Know-Who cast to keep them under his control began to lift, and at the same time that happened, many of the Pure-blood families changed sides overnight." Her tone made it clear that she didn't believe in the Pure-bloods switching sides had anything to do with a change of heart or their explanations of being Imperiused.
"Within hours, the knowledge that You-Know-Who was dead had spread across our entire community. And more importantly…the knowledge that you, Harry, had something to do with his demise spread across not just Magical Britain, but the entireMagical World."
"Because of this, you are considered by many in our world to be the defeater of the Dark Lord, and have been famously labeled, the Boy-Who-Lived."
…
Normally, one would be excited to find out that they are a celebrity, usually as a result of their hard work and talent finally paying off.
But finding out that you're a celebrity simply because a terrorist killed your parents but couldn't kill you, really took the joy out of it. At least, it did for Harry.
Seeing that McGonagall had finished her story he asked for clarification, "So, what does that mean for me?"
Sagging her shoulders in relief, surprised that Harry was taking it all so well, McGonagall got to the final topic of their conversation. "This means Harry, that when we step out of this room and into Diagon Alley, people will wish to see and speak with you. They will want to shake your hand, and give their thanks for saving them. There are even several books written for children about fantastical adventures that you are believed to have been on ever since that night."
Leaning forward to try and express the severity of the situation, she added. "I cannot express this enough…There is not a single person in our world who doesn't know the name Harry Potter, and that level of popularity can be overwhelming. Especially if you do not adequately prepare yourself."
There wasn't much he could say, other than to nod and tell her that he understood, and that he will do his best to prepare himself.
Rising to her feet, McGonagall motioned towards the door, "In that case, shall we be on our way? We do still have to gather your school supplies after all."
Getting out of the chair and groaning as he felt his stiff back crack in several places, Harry agreed. "Ready when you are Professor."
Before McGonagall reached the door she paused, as if deciding whether to add one last thing or not. Turning, McGonagall gave him a warm smile. "Harry…when in private, you can just call me Minerva."
Smiling up at her, Harry happily nodded before following her out of the room. The sounds of chatter echoing from downstairs once again filling his ears as they make their way back through the dark hallway and down to the main floor.
…
Back down in the bar, Harry was surprised to see the massive crowd of people slowly filtering in and out. 'I guess we were in that room for a long time talking.'
Looking out one of the dirty windows facing the street, Harry noticed large crowds of people moving through the streets. With a start, he realized it was already noon and everyone was out on their lunch break.
Turning back to find where Minerva had gone, Harry spotted her talking with Tom. Pushing his way through the crowded space towards them, he overheard Tom speaking up.
"Anythin' I can get the both of ya for lunch?"
Looking over the menu, Minerva ordered for the two of them as Harry stepped up to her side. "We'll have a chicken salad, and a chicken sandwich. Ah! And two cups of tea, please."
"Righ' away, Professor!" Writing down the order, Tom quickly headed to the kitchen.
Their order placed; Minerva silently gestured for Harry to follow as she made her way towards an empty table off to the side.
Sitting down at the small table, Harry took the time to gaze around at the other patrons, spotting three wizards at another table, gesturing wildly as they argued amongst each other quietly. Near them, several people stood crowding the bar as they conversed amongst themselves in small groups.
Realizing something odd, Harry wondered aloud, "I thought the main entrance to a magical shopping district would be a bit more…magical."
Laughing, Minerva explained with a smile the reason for that. "This pub once used to accept muggles many years ago. Unfortunately, we wizards have a tendency to forget who's around us when we're speaking." Chuckling, she added. "All too often, a muggle would hear far more than they should have from a nearby wizard, causing quite the ruckus."
Imagining all of the headaches that must have caused drew a similar chuckle from Harry.
"After our world went into hiding, the Leaky Cauldron had several powerful magical enchantments placed on it. This allows us to come and go from here as we please, without having to worry about muggles noticing us." Remembering when they had first arrived and how the building's appeared seemed to ripple like water, Harry wondered how someone would even go about casting such a long-lasting spell.
"Nevertheless, out of respect to its history, the Leaky Cauldron has maintained the same look it had the time from before we went into hiding."
With that, the conversation died down as Tom reached their table carrying a serving tray full of food.
Placing the salad in front of Minerva and the sandwich in front of himself, Harry thanked Tom for the meal. "No thanks needed, just doin' my job." Tom replied warmly. "Let me know if ya want some more, okay? Ya look like ya could use some extra meals, all skin n' bones like."
Embarrassed, Harry lets out a sheepish, "Yes sir."
Chuckling, the man waved off his reply. "Bah! No need ta' call me 'Sir'. The name's Tom!"
Seeing the man's toothless smile, Harry smiled back as he gave his own name. "Thanks, Tom. I'm Harry."
Blinking, Tom looked back and forth between Minerva and Harry, trying to ask her a question without saying it out loud. At her nod, his eyes went wide. "Good Lord," peering closer at Harry's forehead, Tom could barely make out the scar peeking through the fringe of his messy hair. "Is this-, can this be- ?!"
Suddenly, the Leaky Cauldron had gone completely still, all chatter having stopped when the bartender's raised voice was heard. "Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter!"
As Tom raised his hand to shake Harry's, exclaiming "What an honor!", Harry felt the eyes of every patron in the pub stare at him.
All at once, every chair in the pub could be heard scraping against the floor as seemingly the entire pub rushed over to their table. Before Harry could react, their table was crowded with people gathered around him, all of them sticking out a hand to shake his while expressing their excitement.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand. "
All Harry could do was sit there and shake every hand that popped in front of him. There were so many people talking all at once, he couldn't make out what was being said any more.
It seemed as if the amount of people wanting to shake his hand would never end when…
BANG!
At the sound of a cannon firing loudly, the crowd nearly toppled over in surprise. Every head in the pub, including Harry's, turned to where the noise came from.
Standing next to the table, no longer content to sit there and watch the circus, Minerva cast her gaze over the crowd with a glare.
Slowly lowering her wand after having drawn it to cast the spell that had created the noise, Minerva spoke up loudly and clearly for the whole pub to hear. "While I understand that Mr. Potter's return to our world is a joy to us all, I must ask that you give him some space to eat his meal in peace." While her words were said as a request, the tone of her voice made it clear that it was anything but.
With a start, Tom quickly got over his excitement and began helping to the reign in the crowd. "Righ' you lot! Let Mr. Potter and the Professor eat their meals. Go on, get!"
Disappointed, the crowd slowly started shuffling away from the table. Many of whom took the chance to race out of the pug, desperate to spread the word to their family and friends that Harry Potter had been spotted at the Leaky Cauldron.
With some semblance of peace restored, Minerva put away her wand before sitting back down in her chair and returning to her salad, looking for all the world as if nothing had happened.
Staring at her for a moment, Harry couldn't help feeling awed at how quickly and easily she had taken charge of the situation and gotten everything under control. 'Then again, being a teacher for several years probably helps. For a room full of adults, they sure did act more like excited children.'
Feeling his stomach rumble, Harry realized that he hadn't even taken a bite of his sandwich before the chaos began.
Turning his thoughts away from what happened, and onto his food, the two of them enjoyed their meal in comfortable silence. As he dug in, Minerva smirk at spotting his awed look went unnoticed.
- Outside The Leaky Cauldron -
After half an hour, and two more sandwiches from an ecstatic Tom, "He likes my sandwiches!", they found themselves standing outside in a small, brick-walled courtyard attached to the back of the pub.
Besides an empty trashcan and a few weeds, there was nothing to give any indication that this was the entrance into the only magical shopping district in Britain outside of the small magical town of Hogsmeade.
As Harry took in the underwhelming sight, he thought back to earlier in the pub.
- Flashback -
While eating his chicken sandwich, and marveling at how good it tasted despite being a simple meal, he cast his gaze around the room. He noticed that many of the people still in the pug were glancing in their direction and whispering excitedly to each other.
Feeling his scar tingle for a moment, Harry's eyes swung around the dimly-lit pub. Over at the bar, he was surprised to spot Quirrell there; having not remembered seeing the man come over with the rest of the crowd.
Staring at him for a few moments, Harry watched as Quirrell glanced in his direction several times before fearfully looking at Minerva. Eventually, the man stopped looking at them altogether and turned back to the bar to finish his drink.
Realizing that Quirrell wouldn't be coming over to speak with them, Harry turned his attention back to his food.
- Flashback End -
'He probably didn't want to risk McGonagall noticing anything strange.' Harry guessed. 'After all, if I had a face growing out the back of my head, I'd be cautious too.'
Breaking away from his thoughts, Harry watched on silently as Minerva pulled out her wand.
As she did, she began to speak. "Beyond this wall resides Diagon Alley, one of two shopping districts in Magical Britain, and the only place where you'll be able to find all of your school supplies."
"Normally, you would enter Diagon Alley by Apparition or Floo travel. However, we teachers feel it best to use this entrance for a student's first time coming here."
Remembering that he was not supposed to know about Floo travel yet, he questioned, "What's Floo travel?"
Letting out a small 'Ah' at her forgetfulness, Minerva answered. "Floo travel, is a form of magical transportation. It works by throwing a magical powder into a fireplace, and stating the name of their destination. After speaking your destination clearly, the flames will turn green, and you can then step into them safely."
"Once you've stepped into the flames, you will be magically transported through what is called "the Floo network"; a collection of all fireplaces accessible by Floo. Once you've arrived at your destination, you will then step out of the fire and exit through the connecting fireplace." With her explanation finished, Minerva moved over to the brick wall opposite the Leaky Cauldron.
Tapping several of the bricks in seemingly random order, she took a step back as the bricks begin to move. On their own, the bricks moved away from the middle of the wall, separating and rearranging themselves to form an archway.
Waiting for the brinks to finally stop moving, Harry got his first look at Diagon Alley.
Breathless and wide-eyed, only one thought came to mind.
'Wow'