CHAPTER FIVE: DIAGON, A DRAGON, AND DISCOVERIES

Harry, Bill, and Ginny watched as Fred, George, and Charlie headed off towards Quality Quidditch Supplies (a not all too surprising fact) before making their own way down Diagon Alley, in the direction of Flourish and Blots. It was as good a place to start as any and since Harry still had to get a present for Hermione, they would most likely need to make a stop at the bookstore eventually anyway.

As they entered the practically ancient shop (it had been in Diagon Alley nearly as long as Olivander’s had) a pleasant chiming rang throughout the store as a bell signaled their entrance. It was a familiar note to all three of them, as they had been there many times before.

They split up then, each heading in a different direction as they made their way towards different genres of books. Ginny went for the mysteries, while Bill opted for the defense against the dark arts section, perhaps intending to see if any new books on counter-curses had been printed since last he checked, which would come in handy at work. Harry, trying to think of something that Hermione might like, strolled to the back of the store where the history section was kept.

Although he wasn’t too keen on history, especially when Binns was the one teaching it, he knew exactly where the books were kept, for Hermione had dragged him there more than a few times. There was a cozy, little set up, a nook for all the ancient tomes, with three large bookshelves forming the walls and two narrow shelves lining an entrance to the enclosure, where two armchairs and a small end table made for an intimate setting.

As he approached the little nook in the back of the store, he was shocked to find that his blonde haired rival, none other than Draco Malfoy, was sitting haphazardly upon one of the armchairs, sifting through the contents of an old and dusty manuscript, searching frantically for something contained within its pages. Harry would have hightailed it out of there, and thus avoided what would inevitably be another unpleasant encounter between the two, if it hadn’t been for the fact that his approaching footsteps had already alerted Malfoy to his presence.

“Potter,” the Slytherin spoke, standing up abruptly, seeming more surprised than anything, his usually scornful tone noticeably absent. He seemed a bit furtive, almost as if he had been caught doing something he should not have been, and quickly shoved the book he’d been glancing through behind a particularly large fold of his dark grey, designer robe, thereby hiding it from view.

“What are you doing here?” he spoke in an almost accusatory tone, as if Harry had no right to be there, continuously casting surreptitious glances towards the doorway formed by bookshelves that Harry had just entered through. It seemed as if he was worried that someone in the bookstore might see them there together.

“I’m looking for a book,” Harry replied rather calmly, his voice remarkably cool, though his curiosity was beginning to get the better of him, “Isn’t that what most people come to the bookstore for?” he added sarcastically, although he had to admit that Malfoy’s mannerisms during this particular exchange were intriguing him instead of irritating him as per usual.

Malfoy turned to look at him then, his gaze resting on him fully now instead of flitting back and forth between Harry and what lay behind him, a regal, blonde eyebrow raised in what could have been an impressed fashion, though Harry wouldn’t have bet on it.

“Making an attempt at witty banter, Potter? I would have thought such a dignified form of argumentation would be far too much for your simplistic, Gryffindor intellectual capacity to handle,” Malfoy retorted, though it didn’t contain the same acidity that it usually did. It seemed almost as if he was going through the motions of their usual fights, bidding his time until he could sneak away at the first opportune moment. His eyes once again shifted restlessly past Harry, the way that he would have to exit, if and when he so chose to do so.

“And I thought that Slytherins were better at sneaking around,” Harry replied, giving Malfoy a scrutinizing look, before tilting his head and leaning to the right a bit to try and see what exactly Malfoy had been reading before he had interrupted him; he felt fairly certain that it had something do with his odd behavior.

“Yes, well, we can’t all have invisibility cloaks,” Malfoy remarked, obviously still miffed over the mud flinging incident that had occurred during their third year. Harry had the feeling that the fact that he hadn’t gotten punished for the occurrence was the main reason that it had really incensed his rival.

Before they could get into a serious altercation, Malfoy suddenly cut their conversation short. “I have more important things to do than stand around exchanging insults with you, Potter,” the blonde haired Slytherin spoke with disdain, making as if to brush past Harry and be on his way.

For some reason, Harry wasn’t ready to let him walk away just yet. “Oh, really? And here I thought torturing me was the highlight of your day,” Harry retorted with derision, seeing if Malfoy would take the bait and retort with his usual acidity.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Malfoy quipped bitterly, sidestepping Harry on his way to the exit. In the entryway he paused, hesitating a moment before tilting his head back slightly in Harry’s direction, his hair falling across his eyes as he addressed the Gryffindor. “Perhaps I’m not as shallow as you presume, Potter.” And with that, he was gone.

Harry stood there for a moment, unmoving, pondering the strange encounter he had just had with Malfoy. What had he meant by his last comment? The statement puzzled Harry. It wasn’t so much what was said as Malfoy’s reason for saying it to him of all people in the first place. But he would have to dwell on that later.

Pushing all thoughts of Malfoy to the back of his mind for the time being, Harry set himself to the task he had come here for in the first place: he needed to pick out a book for Hermione.

It sounded simple enough, but considering the fact that Hermione had already read over half of the books contained within Hogwarts’ library and numerous other tomes that she had bought for a ‘bit of light summer reading,’ Harry wasn’t sure that he’d be able to find a book that she hadn’t already read through. He knew he couldn’t remember all of the titles of what she had read and he didn’t want to get her something she already had…

Sighing, he decided to give up on the whole ‘get Hermione a book for Christmas’ idea. Racking his brain, he tried to think of something else that Hermione might like, but nothing jumped out at him. Well, she would probably like something practical…and I suppose it could be either muggle or magical…she doesn’t like quidditch…maybe some jewelry?…I don’t know if that’s really Hermione, though…Harry contemplated to himself, unable to come to any definitive conclusion over what to get her.

Going through a checklist of what Hermione would like in a gift, an idea suddenly popped into Harry’s head. Maybe he could get her a locket. He could put a picture of her, Ron, and he in it… and Hermione was a girl, so she liked sentimental things, right? Perhaps he’d ask Ginny, just to make sure…And maybe he could find a locket with some sort of protective spell placed upon it or something…Yes, the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. But where would he find what he wanted? Maybe Bill would know.

Mind made up, Harry decided to set off to find Ginny and Bill and see if they were ready to go. The Defense section was closer, so he decided to go there first and fetch Bill. Besides, Ginny tended to get irritated when parted with her mystery novels; he’d need reinforcement before confronting her.

He finally reached the back corner where the defensive texts were found, taking up twelve whole rows. Somehow Harry had the feeling that the section had grown in the years he’d been coming here; he wouldn’t be surprised if it had.

Starting with the nearest row of books, he began searching down the aisles for any sign of Bill. Reaching the last line of bookcases without finding Bill, Harry paused to wonder what other section Bill might have gone to. He was thinking that maybe he had gone to find a Christmas present for someone, when a book on the shelf in front of him suddenly caught his eye.

It was placed oddly, the rather small text having been squished between two thick tomes. It lay farther back than the rest of the books in the row, which were all in a neat line, and looked almost as if someone had stuffed it in there in order to try and hide it from view.

Curious, Harry drew it down from its high ledge and turned it over in his hands, looking for a title or any indication of what the book was about. He became quite enthralled when he discovered that he couldn’t find any markings on the exterior of the book and noticed, as he ran his fingers over the outside cover, that the book was incased with green dragon hide. He caressed the expensive material reverently, liking the feel of it on his fingertips, before carefully cracking the book open.

He examined the first page, which happened to be blank, noting that it was somewhat yellowed and rimmed in muted silver about the very edge. As he flipped to the next page, he noticed that the book was upside-down, and carefully righted it before continuing.

Skipping another blank page, Harry came to the title page, a flowing script spelling out:

Diary of Scheherazade Slytherin, 1147 A.D.

Eyes going wide, he let out an involuntary gasp, shocked by the amazing discovery he had inadvertently made. He wondered for a brief moment whether this could be the book that Malfoy had been trying to conceal from him before quickly dismissing the idea: the book Malfoy was reading had been much larger.

Gingerly flipping to the next page, afraid that even with the magical spells undoubtedly protecting the over 800 year old journal he would still accidentally tear one of the thin pages, he noticed that the next page contained a short letter of sorts.

To my future heirs, upholders of the Slytherin bloodline:

I have foreseen a great rift forming between the lion and the snake, one that will undoubtedly lead to war, though how far off such events are I cannot say. A great tyrant born from our house will taint our good name and cause unnecessary grief and a misinterpretation of all of the things we hold most dear.

Despite the fact that he will born from you to whom I now write, this warmonger must be stopped by any means possible, even if it means the end of our line. In order to achieve this, you must join forces with those that oppose you and find a child born of both Slytherin and Gryffindor.

He will be marked by the element of all consuming light, a symbol of the darkness he has faced and overcome. Only he can stop the otherwise eminent destruction of the wizarding race.

Heed my words and be ever watchful, for you and your brethren will be the force that turns the tide of the war.

Your ancestral father and son of the great founder,

Stunned by this new discovery, Harry stood silently, almost frozen with shock and the weight of the words he had just read. Shakily, he lifted a hand, tracing the tip of a finger gently over his lightning shaped scar… the element of all consuming light. Was it possible? The son of Salazar Slytherin himself had told all of his future heirs and anyone in his house to join forces with him… a child born of both Slytherin and Gryffindor. Sure, the sorting hat had wanted to put him in Slytherin, but he wouldn’t say that made him born of Slytherin.

Maybe Scheherazade’s vision, prophecy?—whatever it was—hadn’t been referring to him after all. But there were just too many pieces that added up, and they all pointed at Harry as being the child mentioned in this letter.

“Harry?” a sudden call brought him back to reality as Bill suddenly popped up from around the corner of the bookshelf. “There you are. I thought I saw you go to the back of the store, but I guess I was wrong…” Bill muttered to himself.

“No, I was in the back, but then I came here looking for you,” Harry cut in, smiling at Bill in amusement. Bill let out a light chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“It figures,” he spoke, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, Gin and I are ready to go. You all set?” Bill questioned, raising one of his dark red eyebrows in a way which Harry had always wished he could do but had never quite figured out how to.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he answered, following Bill out of the aisle and towards the front counter, Slytherin’s diary in hand.

Ginny was standing up front, arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapping a rhythm on the hardwood floor as she waited impatiently. “Took you long enough,” she spoke in exasperation, leveling a glare at her brother, though there was no heat behind it.

Bill shrugged his shoulders in a half hearted apology, quickly attempting to explain. “I had trouble finding him,” he defended himself, referring to Harry, “Apparently he went off searching for me in the Defense section, which of course was the last place I happened to look.”

Ginny rolled her eyes letting out a slight snort of amusement as she shook her head. “Yeah, sure, just go and blame it on Harry why don’t you,” she chastised teasingly, shoving a handful of books into her brother’s arms.

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion, wondering why Ginny was making her brother purchase her books for her. Catching the look, Ginny took it upon herself to explain. “It’s my Christmas present. It’s easier to just pick it out myself and have him buy it for me rather than have him trying to guess at what I’d like,” she informed Harry. He nodded, the explanation making perfect sense, though he still thought it somewhat funny that she was picking out her own present.

Moving over to the check out line, which was surprisingly short considering how near the holidays were, Harry and Bill waited patiently to pay for their books, Ginny casually browsing a few of the ‘new arrivals’ set up nearby. Allowing Bill to check out first, Harry watched as he dumped his pile on the counter, a grey haired old witch behind the register frowning at his mistreatment of the merchandise, causing Harry to smile.

“Next!” a somewhat nasal voice rang out, Harry embarrassedly realizing that a register had opened up while he’d been watching the scene with Bill. Rushing over to the counter, he set his one book down upon it, hastily reaching inside his cloak to retrieve his pouch full of wizarding currency.

Setting his money on the counter after successfully locating it, Harry glanced up to see the old, bespecked wizard behind the counter giving him an odd look. “You sure you want to buy this book, son?” the elderly man asked in slight confusion, glancing curiously up at Harry.

The question caused Harry to frown. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked in bewilderment, wondering if the man was referring to the fact that it was written by a Slytherin.

Glancing at Harry as if he was rather daft, the man explained as if it should be obvious: “Well, you can’t read it, so unless you just want it to sit up on a shelf and look nice…I suppose it is rather interesting, though. Never did figure out what language it’s written in. I know just about every language there is in the magical world…mermish, centaurn, veelaus…but this one still eludes me even after all these years…” the man trailed off, shaking his head slightly, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “I suppose if you really want to buy it…”

“I do,” Harry abruptly cut in, the man’s words both intriguing and startling him. “Like you said, it’s really interesting…maybe I’ll be able to figure out what it is…” he trailed off, his mind working frantically as it tried to answer the question of what the language was, though he had a sinking suspicion that he already knew. After all, what was the special trait passed down through the Slytherin blood line? He would bet anything that the book was written in Parseltongue, hence the reason he could read it and this man could not.

Satisfied with Harry’s answer, the man rang up the book, totaling it up to one galleon and five knuts. Harry counted out the amount, hastily placing the coins into the man’s waiting hand. Grabbing the sack embellished with ‘Flourish and Blotts’ in a swirling script across the side, Harry hurried over to the exit where Bill and Ginny were waiting for him.

“Where to now?” he asked them as they exited the store, the bell chiming once again as they left.

Glancing down at his wristwatch, Bill answered, “The Leaky Caldron, it’s almost one.” Harry nodded, following Ginny as she led the way to the designated meeting spot.

“I wonder what Hermione and Ron have been getting up to,” she mused aloud as she glanced into the various shops along the way to The Leaky Caldron.

“Sorry to inform you Gin, but I doubt that they were snogging in the middle of the street or anything,” Bill informed his sister somewhat sarcastically, receiving a glare from her in response.

“I know that,” she responded indignantly, rolling her eyes, “But maybe they got to talking and realized a few…things.” She smiled at the thought, obviously hoping that her matchmaking efforts would pay off.

“And if they didn’t…?” Harry questioned, almost dreading the answer as a look of determination spread across Ginny’s lightly freckled face.

“Then will just have to try harder,” the girl replied as if it should be obvious, opening the door to their destination and heading inside the building.

Harry and Bill sighed and shook their head respectively, sharing a look as if to say, ‘How the hell did we get ourselves caught up in this mess?’