 perched on top of the 
wardrobe 


"Hedwig!" Harry gasped. 


39 



The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry's arm. 

"Very smart owl you've got there, chuckled Tom. "Arrived about five 
minutes after you did. If there's anything you need, Mr. Potter, don't 
hesitate to ask." 

He gave another bow and left. 

Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absentmindedly stroking Hedwig. 
The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue 
to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. Harry 
could hardly believe that he'd left Privet Drive only a few hours ago, 
that he wasn't expelled, and that he was now facing two completely 
Dursley-free weeks. 

"It's been a very weird night, Hedwig," he yawned. 

And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows 
and fell asleep. 

CHAPTER FOUR 

THE LEAKY CAULDRON 

It took Harry several days to get used to his strange new freedom. Never 
before had he been able to get up whenever he wanted or eat whatever he 
fancied. He could even go wherever he pleased, as long as it was in 
Diagon Alley, and as this long cobbled street was packed with the most 
fascinating wizarding shops in the world, Harry felt no desire to break 
his word to Fudge and stray back into the Muggle world. 

Harry ate breakfast each morning in the Leaky Cauldron, where he liked 
watching the other guests: funny little witches from the country, up for 
a day's shopping; venerable-looking wizards arguing over the latest 
article in Transfiguration Today; wild-looking warlocks; raucous dwarfs; 
and once, what looked suspiciously like a hag, who ordered a plate of 
raw liver from behind a thick woollen balaclava. 

After breakfast Harry would go out into the backyard, take out his wand, 
tap the third brick from the left above the trash bit,, and stand back 

40 



as the archway into Diagon Alley opened in the wall. 

Harry spent the long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the 
brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes, where his fellow diners were 
showing one another their purchases ( " it , s a lunascope, old boy -no 
more messing around with moon charts, see?") or else discussing the 
case of Sirius Black ("personalty, I won't let any of the children out 
alone until he's back in Azkaban"). Harry didn't have to do his homework 
under the blankets by flashlight anymore; now he could sit in the bright 
sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, finishing all his 
essays with occasional help from Florean Fortescue himself, who, apart 
from knowing a great deal about medieval witch burnings, gave Harry free 
sundaes every half an hour. 

Once Harry had refilled his money bag with gold Galleons, silver 
Sickles, and bronze Knuts from his vault at Gringotts, he had to 
exercise a lot of self-control not to spend the whole lot at once. He 
had to keep reminding himself that he had five years to go at Hogwarts, 
and how it would feel to ask the Dursleys for money for spellbooks, to 
stop himself from buying a handsome set of solid gold Gobstones (a 
wizarding game rather like marbles, in which the stones squirt a 
nasty-smelling liquid into the other player's face when they lose a 
point). He was sorely tempted, too, by the perfect, moving model of the 
galaxy in a large glass ball, which would have meant he never had to 
take another Astronomy lesson. But the thing that tested Harry's 
resolution most appeared in his favorite shop, Quality Quidditch 
Supplies, a week after he'd arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Curious to know what the crowd in the shop was staring at, Harry edged 
his way inside and squeezed in among the excited witches and wizards 
until he glimpsed a newly erected podium, on which was mounted the most 
magnificent broom he had ever seen in his life. 

"Just come out -- prototype --" a square-jawed wizard was telling his 
companion. 

"It's the fastest broom in the world, isn't it, Dad?" squeaked a boy 
younger than Harry, who was swinging off his father's arm. 

"Irish International Side's Just put in an order for seven of these 

41 



beauties!" the proprietor of the shop told the crowd. "And they're 
favorites for the World Cup!" 

A large witch in front of Harry moved, and he was able to read the sign 
next to the broom: 

** THE FIREBOLT ** 

THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART PACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAM-LINED, 
SUPERFINE 
HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND 
HAND- NUMBERED 
WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER. EACH INDIVIDUALLY 
SELECTED BIRCH TWIG 
IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC 
PERFECTION, GIVING THE 
FIREBOLT UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION. 
THE FIREBOLT HAS 
AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND 
INCORPORATES AN 
UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM. PRICE ON REQUEST. 

Price on request... Harry didn't like to think how much gold the 
Firebolt would cost. He had never wanted anything as much in his whole 
life -- but he had never lost a Quidditch match on his Nim bus Two 
Thousand, and what was the point in emptying his Gringotts vault for the 
Firebolt, when he had a very good broom already? Harry didn't ask for 
the price, but he returned, almost every day after that, just to look at 
the Firebolt. 

There were, however, things that Harry needed to buy. He went to the 
Apothecary to replenish his store of potions ingredients, and as his 
school robes were now several inches too short in the arm and leg, he 
visited Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and bought new ones. Most 
important of all, he had to buy his new schoolbooks, which would include 
those for his two new subjects, Care of Magical Creatures and 
Divination. 

Harry got a surprise as he looked in at the bookshop window. Instead of 
the usual display of gold- embossed spellbooks the size of paving slabs, 

42 



there was a large iron cage behind the glass that held about a hundred 
copies of The Monster Book of Monsters. Torn pages were flying 
everywhere as the books grappled with each other, locked together in 
furious wrestling matches and snapping aggressively. 

Harry pulled his booklist out of his pocket and consulted it for the 
first time. The Monster Book of Monsters was listed as the required book 
for Care of Magical Creatures. Now Harry understood why Hagrid had said 
it would come in useful. He felt relieved; he had been wondering whether 
Hagrid wanted help with some terrifying new pet. 

As Harry entered Flourish and Blotts, the manager came hurrying toward 
him. 

"Hogwarts?" he said abruptly. "Come to get your new books?" 

"Yes," said Harry, "I need --" 

"Get out of the way," said the manager impatiently, brushing Harry 
aside. He drew on a pair of very thick gloves, picked up a large, 
knobbly walking stick, and proceeded toward the door of the Monster 
Books' cage. 

"Hang on," said Harry quickly, "I've already got one of those." 

"Have you?" A look of enormous relief spread over the manager's face. 
"Thank heavens for that. I've been bitten five times already this 
morning --" 

A loud ripping noise rent the air; two of the Monster Books had seized a 
third and were pulling it apart. 

"Stop it! Stop it!" cried the manager, poking the walking stick through 
the bars and knocking the books apart. "I'm never stocking them again, 
never! It's been bedlam! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought 
two hundred copies of the Invisible Book of Invisibility -cost a 
fortune, and we never found them.... Well... is there anything else I 
can help you with?" 

"Yes," said Harry, looking down his booklist, "I need Unfogging the 

43 



Future by Cassandra Vablatsky." 

"Ah, starting Divination, are you?" said the manager, stripping off his 
gloves and leading Harry into the back of the shop, where there was a 
corner devoted to fortune-telling. A small table was stacked with 
volumes such as Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against 
Shocks and Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul. 

"Here you are,,' said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to 
take down a thick, black- bound book. "Unfogging the Future. Very good 
guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods - palmistry, crystal 
balls, bird entrails. 

But Harry wasn't listening. His eyes had fallen on another book, which 
was among a display on a small table: Death Omens.- What to Do When You 
Know the Worst Is Coming. 

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," said the manager lightly, 
looking to see what Harry was staring at. "You'll start seeing death 
omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death. " 

But Harry continued to stare at the front cover of the book; it showed a 
black dog large as a bear, with gleaming eyes. It looked oddly 
familiar... 

The manager pressed Unfogging the Future into Harry's hands. 

"Anything else?" he said. 

"Yes," said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the dog's and dazedly 
consulting his booklist. "Er -- I need Intermediate Transfiguration and 
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three." 

Harry emerged from Flourish and Blotts ten minutes later with his new 
books under his arms and made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, hardly 
noticing where he was going and bumping into several people. 

He tramped up the stairs to his room, went inside, and tipped his books 
onto his bed. Somebody had been in to tidy; the windows were open and 
sun was pouring inside. Harry could hear the buses rolling by in the 

44 



unseen Muggle street behind him and the sound of the invisible crowd 
below in Diagon Alley. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the 
basin. 

"It can't have been a death omen," he told his reflection defiantly. "I 
was panicking when I saw that thing in Magnolia Cre