Harry and the others went outside. There was a Ministry car waiting for them in front the unkempt lawn. They walked through it, being careful not to step on a gnome or any other creatures that might bite them. When they got to the car, a chauffer in a chartreuse blazer with gold buttons down the front got out of the driver’s seat, walked around the rather large sedan, and opened the door. The five of them loaded into the car.
Harry was used to the interior by now. An Engorgement charm had been placed on it, making it the size of a small ballroom inside, while remaining in normal proportions on the exterior.
The ride to Diagon Alley was silent. Ginny seemed to be indifferent to anything Harry did anymore. Harry was feeling awkward about how Angela would receive the fact that Ginny was his ex-girlfriend, as Harry enjoyed their company almost equally. And Ron, well, Ron just didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were.
At last, they had reached the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione got out first, then Harry and Ron, and finally Ginny, who seemed to be dragging her heels the whole time.
Inside, the Leaky Cauldron was dim, smoke lingered over the heads of shady looking wizards, wearing hoods that concealed their faces as they played cards, using ominous objects, such as large medallions or small, moving boxes with holes poked in them as their bets. Harry looked at his watch, then looked around. He saw a witch with a long ponytail down her back sitting at the bar, sipping a butterbeer as she looked at the ancient clock sitting on the mantelpiece. Harry walked up behind her silently.
“Hey,” he whispered in her ear.
“Harry!”, she gasped, sloshing butterbeer all down the front of her shirt. “You scared me!”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” Harry turned a violent shade of pink as Mrs. Weasley rushed up to the bar, her wand in hand.
“Hold on just a moment, dear. Scourgify.” The spilled butterbeer disappeared from Angela’s shirt. “There, much better. Harry, you haven’t introduced me to your friend yet!”
Now it was Angela’s turn to go pink. “Oh, sorry. I’m Angela Petersen, and you must be Ron’s mother. ”
“Quite right, dear,” replied Mrs. Weasley warmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you as well, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much for letting me shop with you today, I really didn’t want to be a burden.”
“Oh, no dear, it’s actually quite nice that you’ve come,” Mrs. Weasley said conversationally. “Harry can’t stop talking about you”
“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” Harry interrupted, feeling his face burn, wishing for the first time in his life that it was his scar that hurt and not his self-respect. “I think I can take it from here.” Ginny stared coldly at the back of Harry’s head, wishing it would explode all over Angela.
“Of course, dear. Go right ahead, then!”
Harry introduced Angela to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who had shaken her hand so hard Angela’s knuckles had gone pale, and led them into the alley behind the bar. Harry, leading the way, walked over to the center trash bin, and tapped a brick above the dustbin. Suddenly, the bricks began to arrange themselves into a gateway, and Harry looked over to Angela. Her face was filled with awe. Harry remembered when he had first been escorted into Diagon Alley six years ago, and how it had become one of his favorite places, save for Hogwarts. He then snapped back into reality as the gateway was complete. He took Angela by the arm and let her through. The others followed behind.
Now Angela was truly awestruck. “This is amazing. I used to have to get my stuff by mail order; my wand and robes were the only ones I had to go to the shop to try on.” Harry imagined a Muggle post man carrying a package with the return label saying:
Flourish and Blotts Bookestore
265 Diagon Alley
London, England
The thought made him laugh out loud. Angela looked to him with somewhat of a quirky smile. He felt his ears going a delicate shade of scarlet. He never felt this way when talking to a girl, save maybe for Cho Chang, his previous semi-girlfriend in his fifth year whose constant blubbering over her deceased boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, made their relationship break apart quite quickly. But Harry had a strange feeling that this, he and Angela, just might have more luck. He liked Angela too much to hurt her. But he wanted her, and nothing or nobody could change that.
However, Ginny, who was still dragging her feet as Harry gave Angela a tour of Diagon Alley, was thinking. Questions began to fill her head like water seeping into a submerged car. How did Harry meet Angela? Why didn’t Harry tell her that he was already dating again? She was furious, she hated Angela even though she had just met her. But if Harry felt that she was the one for him, she thought, it wasn’t worth breaking his heart. She cared for him too much to do that. But she wanted to make her suffer, no matter what he felt.
Meanwhile, Hermione beckoned Harry from behind a rack of secondhand robes once the group entered Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.
“Harry, can I speak to you for a moment, please?”
“Sure, Hermione. Can you hold on for a moment, Angela? Yes, that would look stunning on you!” Angela was holding up a midnight blue dress with frilly cuffs and an extremely tight bodice, which made her look like an overdressed tavern wench in Hermione’s opinion.
Hermione sighed. She pulled Harry behind the rack and whispered, “Harry, why didn’t you tell Ginny about Angela before today? Was it because you two broke up? Because that would be even more reason to tell her! Did you even consider her?”
Harry had considered. Before he met Angela, he had even regretted breaking up with Ginny. But he finally came to the conclusion that Ginny had probably already moved on to someone else or, if not, had already gotten over him. “I did, and I know that doing what I did may have seemed completely insensitive on her part, but think about it. We were only together for a little while. She has to know that I really enjoyed our time together, but I have to move on!”
Hermione felt there was nothing now that could prevent Harry from moving forward with his relationship with Angela. “Fine. Just don’t expect a lot of talking between you and Ginny this year. She’s still a bit sensitive about you.”
Harry looked surprised for a moment, but quickly changed his expression, now looking calm. “Let her be. Ginny is still my friend, and eventually everything will go back to normal,” said Harry in a sagacious, finalizing tone. He then turned around and walked toward Angela and asked her opinion of a lacy magenta dress robe he had picked up off of a rack and held against his chest, waltzing around the shop as she laughed happily. Hermione sighed as she stepped out from behind the rack. Thinking more as the two stood together, chatting and laughing every so often, she began to see that the two looked beautiful together.
*
Harry loved talking to Angela. She seemed to accept every facet of Harry’s personality with a smile that outshone even the brightest of days. She never looked at his scar when they were talking; the only time she had done so was at the conference where they had met. She made Harry feel safe, secure against even the worst of the cruel, heartless people who wanted him dead. She made him feel like the man that he was and would become. Harry embraced that feeling, careful not to let it go.
They spent almost the whole day buying school things after Angela retrieved her money from Gringotts. After they were finished, and their pockets significantly lighter, they went to buy ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s shop, which seemed to have been reopened by another, much younger wizard. Angela and Harry got the same thing: an ice cream sundae with whipped cream and hot fudge. The moment he took his first bite, Harry looked at Angela. Angela looked back and wiped off a bit of whipped cream that Harry got on his nose and ate it right off her finger. She laughed. Her laugh rang in his ears like melodic church bells. That was when Harry realized: she was perfect for him. Ginny felt like puking.