The Stormborn Chapter 47

The morning sun stread through the Highlands Manor windows, and Harry was bent over an old Asgardian text, lazily tracing the runes with his finger. His peace was broken when the fireplace roared to life, and Hermione stumbled out with a puff of soot in her hair.

“Harry!” she exclaid, brushing herself off. “You have to co with to Diagon Alley today. Flourish and Blotts just released Foundations of Advanced Enchanting! Can you imagine? They’ve never published sothing like this before—hundreds of new theories and runic combinations!”

Harry arched a brow, smiling at her excitent. “Let guess, you want to carry half your books when you’re done?”

Hermione rolled her eyes but grinned. “You’re tall and strong now, you can manage.”

Before Harry could reply, the manor’s wards chid again. This ti it was Draco, stepping out with his usual aristocratic air, though his eyes flickered curiously around the hall as if still not used to the warmth of the Black household.

“Potter,” Draco greeted stiffly, then added, “Granger.”

Hermione crossed her arms. “Draco, I told you hundred ti to call Hermoine.”

Sirius appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Draco, what brings you here so early? Didn’t expect you before lunch.”

Draco hesitated, his pride warring with his mother’s instructions. “Mother’s… busy with Aunt Androda. She said I should ask you to take to Diagon Alley. I need new potion ingredients. Normally Father—” He stopped, the word turning sadness. “—Normally, it would be him.”

Sirius’ expression softened for a mont, but before he could respond, Hermione piped up. “We were already going! I’m buying the new enchanting book.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, studying Draco. “Well, looks like the three of us are headed the sa way.”

Draco blinked. “Wait. You’re allowed to just… go? By yourself?” He glanced between Harry and Sirius. “Unsupervised?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve been going for years. As long as I disguise myself, no one knows it’s . Simple.”

Draco’s jaw tightened in open jealousy. “I’m nearly eleven, and I still need Mother breathing down my neck to walk into a shop without embarrassing the family na. anwhile, you get to run around like a free man.”

“Maybe because Harry can handle himself,” Sirius said bluntly, giving Draco a pointed look. “And if trouble finds him, it’ll regret it.”

Draco flushed but said nothing.

Hermione clapped her hands, breaking the tension. “Good. Settled, then. All three of us to Diagon Alley. We’ll make a day of it.”

By noon, the trio stood in Sirius’ study, where the enchanted fireplace flared green.

“Rember,” Sirius warned, wagging a finger at Harry, “don’t cause a scene. Wards or no wards, you’ll have half the alley talking if you show off. Just shop, eat sothing, and co back in one piece.”

Harry grinned mischievously. “What if the scene causes ?”

“Then you blow it up and run,” Sirius said without missing a beat.

Draco rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a smirk. Hermione sighed as she stepped into the fire. “Honestly, you two…”

Diagon Alley was buzzing, crowded with shoppers clutching parchnt lists and dragging children behind them. The mont they stepped out, Harry tugged his hood lower, his features subtly altered to resemble “Jas Potter,” his safe disguise.

Hermione practically sprinted to Flourish and Blotts. “Co on!”

Draco muttered, “She’ll bury us all in books one day,” but followed anyway.

Inside, the sll of ink and parchnt wrapped around them. Hermione’s eyes lit up as she spotted the enchanted section, a small table stacked high with thick volus embossed in silver: Foundations of Advanced Enchanting.

“There it is!” she squealed, darting forward.

Draco leaned close to Harry. “Do you think she’ll notice if we sneak away while she reads every page in the shop?”

“Not a chance,” Harry smirked. “You’ll be here till midnight.”

Hermione ignored them both, already clutching a copy. “Do you know how rare this is? Actual comprehensive theories, not just fragnts! If we study this properly, Draco, we can start drafting fraworks for the television enchantnts!”

Draco’s annoyance lted instantly into fascination. “You an… the first step to our channel?”

“Yes!” Hermione’s grin widened. “We can enchant projection surfaces, test rune stabilization—”

“rlin’s beard,” Draco whispered, already pulling a quill from his pocket to jot notes.

Harry shook his head, amused. “You two are going to run yourselves into the ground before you even start.”

The bell above the door of Flourish and Blotts jingled violently as Harry and Draco practically dragged Hermione outside.

“Honestly!” Draco huffed, his arms aching as Hermione clutched a stack of books to her chest like precious treasure.

“I was going to put two of them back,” Hermione defended breathlessly, her hair wild from the struggle. “But the Runic Symtry and Binding looked too fascinating to ignore!”

Harry rolled his eyes, steadying her stack before she dropped it. “You’ll drown yourself in parchnt if we don’t stop you. Co on, we promised Draco his potions.”

They crossed the street toward the tall green windows of Slug and Jiggers Apothecary—only to stop dead.

The door flew open with a bang, and a thick violet foam spilled out onto the cobblestones. Purple smoke billowed through the entrance, curling upward in eerie spirals. Two shopkeepers inside flailed their wands, coughing violently as bubbles escaped their noses.

“By rlin’s beard,” Draco muttered, stepping back quickly. “What in Salazar’s na happened here?”

One unfortunate wizard staggered out, clutching a cauldron that still hissed with foam. He sneezed—and a line of shimring bubbles floated upward from his nostrils.

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s—oh no—if it’s what I think it is, that’s a foaming mis-brew! Soone must have combined Erumpent fluid with Essence of Bubotuber—”

“English, Granger,” Draco snapped, waving his hand in front of his face as the violet smoke wafted toward him.

“It ans,” Harry said grimly, pulling both of them back, “if you breathe that stuff too long, you’ll be sneezing bubbles for days.”

Draco’s lip curled. “Well, I’m not walking into that. I need proper ingredients, not so… potion-induced lung infection.”

Harry thought for a mont, then nodded toward the south end of the Alley. “There’s another place. Not as reputable. Smaller shop, closer to Knockturn Alley. They’ll have what you need.”

Hermione frowned imdiately. “Harry, that’s practically on the border of Knockturn Alley. It’s dangerous.”

Harry smirked. “Dangerous for them, maybe. But we’ll be fine.”

Draco’s curiosity flickered. “You’ve been down there before, haven’t you?”

Harry didn’t answer, just adjusted his hood and started walking. “Co on. Unless you’d rather go ho without your potions.”

The closer they walked toward Knockturn Alley, the atmosphere shifted. The bright chatter of Diagon Alley faded into hushed tones. Shop windows grew darker, filled with stranger wares: preserved talons, cursed trinkets, and books bound in faded leather.

Hermione clutched her bag closer. “I don’t like this, Harry. The last ti we even walked near this end, Sirius told us not to linger.”

Harry gave her a small grin. “Then it’s a good thing Sirius isn’t here.”

Draco smirked despite himself. “For once, Potter, I think you’re right. Let’s see what this other shop has.”

Harry stopped in front of a narrow storefront wedged between two towering buildings. Its sign read Greenleaf’s Elixirs & Supplies, the letters glowing faintly. Inside, the shelves were stacked high with jars of powdered roots, dried herbs, and glass bottles that shimred faintly under candlelight.

The bell chid softly as they stepped inside. The air was thick with the sll of dried nettles and bitter smoke.

A hunched old witch with a hawk-like nose glanced up from behind the counter. “Potions supplies? Ingredients? Or are you here for… sothing stronger?” Her eyes glittered as she studied them.

“Ingredients,” Draco said quickly, stepping forward. “Standard stock. Boomslang skin, bicorn horn, lacewing flies. And a cauldron polish that actually works.”

The witch’s sharp eyes landed on Harry. “You look familiar.”

Harry forced a smile, tilting his head. “Don’t think so. Wrong boy.”

The witch’s stare lingered, but she shrugged. “Hmph. Suit yourselves.”

Hermione busied herself browsing the shelves, whispering to Draco about proper asurents. Harry, anwhile, kept his gaze sharp on the door, senses alert. Knockturn Alley was a place where even small shops could hide dangerous eyes.

As Draco brought his chosen supplies to the counter, the door creaked open behind them. Three hooded figures entered, their steps heavy and purposeful.

Harry tensed imdiately.

The tallest one sneered. “Well, well. What do we have here? Children shopping in Greenleaf’s? That’s a rare sight.”

Hermione paled. Draco instinctively reached for his wand, though his hand shook slightly.

Harry stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “Just finishing up. You should let us.”

The man chuckled darkly. “Or maybe we don’t.”

For a mont, the tension snapped tight as a bowstring.

Then, with a flick of his hand, Harry sent a subtle spark of lightning across the room. It struck a tal pan on the wall, making it ring like a bell. The sound echoed unnaturally, sharp and unsettling.

The hooded n froze, suddenly less certain.

Harry leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Walk away.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes darted nervously between them, clearly unwilling to intervene.

Finally, with a muttered curse, the hooded n turned and left.

Hermione exhaled shakily. “Harry…”

Draco’s eyes were wide, but filled with admiration. “That… was brilliant.”

Harry smirked faintly. “Co on. Let’s finish here before soone less reasonable shows up.”

The trio stepped out of Greenleaf’s store, Draco clutching his bag of potion ingredients like it was his lifeline. The air outside was even heavier than before—thick with the sll of burnt herbs and damp stone.

Hermione tugged nervously at Harry’s sleeve. “Can we go back now? Please? We’ve got everything Draco needs.”

Harry didn’t answer imdiately. Instead, his sharp green eyes flicked toward the growing noise just beyond the crooked archway that led into Knockturn Alley.

There was shouting—raucous, slurred shouting—followed by a flash of red sparks.

Draco’s grip on his bag tightened. “What was that?”

Harry smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “That, Malfoy, is what happens every other week down here. Sothing always goes wrong in Knockturn Alley. And if you want to understand wizards, you should see it with your own eyes.”

Hermione looked horrified. “Harry! We shouldn’t—”

But curiosity, as always, gnawed at her. She bit her lip, adjusted her books, and finally sighed. “Fine. Just for a minute.”

“Good girl,” Harry muttered, steering them both toward the noise.

A crowd had gathered in a wide, grimy courtyard just past the bend of the alley. Cloaked witches and wizards jostled for space, so standing on crates, others leaning out of crooked windows.

At the center, two n faced each other. Both were middle-aged, their cloaks rumpled, their cheeks flushed scarlet from drink. They were swaying, hiccupping, and clearly could barely stand—yet both gripped their wands with the desperate determination of n defending their honor.

“You—hiccup—you cheated at Gobstones!” one of them bellowed, his wand hand wobbling.

The other hiccupped in return and shouted back, “You kissed—hiccup—Greta Catchlove behind the greenhouse!”

Gasps and laughter rippled through the crowd. Coins exchanged hands rapidly as bets were shouted. “Ten galleons on rton!” “No, no, Biddles has the reach! Fifteen on him!”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “They’re—dueling? Over a schoolyard crush?”

Draco stared in disbelief. “And people are betting on it?”

Harry chuckled softly. “Welco to wizarding culture.”

At that mont, one of the duelists tried to cast a curse. His wand spat out a crooked jet of yellow sparks that fizzled out before even reaching his opponent. The crowd roared with laughter, so clapping, others jeering.

The second wizard slashed his wand wildly, and a cloud of hiccupping canaries burst from the tip, circling madly before smacking straight into his own face. The spectators howled.

Hermione noticed a faint shimr between the crowd and the duelists. She squinted. “Wait—they’ve… they’ve actually cast a shield charm around the spectators.”

“Of course,” Harry said casually. “Nobody wants to get hexed while watching drunkards make fools of themselves.”

Draco’s lip curled, but he couldn’t hide his amusent. “This is ridiculous. My father used to tell Knockturn Alley was the gathering place of the darkest, most dangerous wizards in Britain.”

Harry smirked. “And instead, you get two drunkards reliving their school days. Still want to follow in Lucius’s advises?”

Draco didn’t reply, though Hermione noticed his ears reddening.

As the duel went on, the crowd only grew more boisterous. Street vendors wandered through, offering at skewers and pumpkin fizz, shouting over the chaos. A hag in the corner waved a slip of parchnt, taking bets and scribbling down nas.

“Two to one odds on rton! Three to one on Biddles! Get your wagers in!”

Harry leaned against a wall, watching with amusent. “They’ll keep this going until one of them collapses. Then they’ll probably buy each other a drink and start all over again next week.”

Hermione huffed. “It’s barbaric. Utterly irresponsible!”

But despite herself, she laughed when the hiccupping wizard tripped over his own robe and accidentally shot a spell at his own feet, causing his shoes to sprout wings and flap wildly. He shrieked, flailing as the crowd roared with delight.

Draco’s laughter joined hers. “This… this is insane. And brilliant.”

Harry’s gaze lingered on the duel a little longer than the others realized. Watching wizards behave like this, losing themselves in childish rivalries and drunken pride, reminded him of just how flawed—even fragile—the magical world could be.

He folded his arms, thinking to himself. If they can turn sothing this petty into a spectacle, no wonder Voldemort rose to power. Wizards love drama more than truth.

Finally, Harry straightened. “We’ve seen enough. Ti to go before soone actually manages to hit sothing.”

Hermione looked relieved, though Draco looked disappointed. “But it was just getting good—”

“Next ti,” Harry promised with a smirk, guiding them back toward the safety of Diagon Alley. “Trust , Knockturn Alley never runs out of entertainnt.”

As they stepped away from the roar of the crowd, Draco glanced back one last ti, still grinning. “rlin help , Potter. I think I like this place.”

Hermione groaned. “Oh, no…”

Harry chuckled under his breath.