Three members of the table simultaneously let out involuntary gasps. Jordan as though he’d been hit on the head with a mallet, his father sighed with irritation, and Emma turned white with inexplicable terror. The rest of the group responded far less dramatically.
“Who’s Hadrian Bellowes?” Ivy wanted to know.
Her father answered for Ron. “He’s third-in-command at the Auror office, older than Ron and me and a lot more experienced. He or Angus Williamson should have been made head of the department after Dawlish retired, but instead, I automatically got promoted to the head after I finished training.” He sighed. “I’m not proud of it, but this was before Percy became Minister of Magic, and things weren’t as… organized as they are now. And in any case, I’ve been head now for about twenty years, and I really like my job. But Hadrian Bellowes can’t get over his grudge”he keeps pointing out everything we’re doing ‘wrong.’”
Ron nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “He really wants me fired, and I reckon his plan is to sack Harry not long after.” His morose expression transformed into one of anger and disgust. “But wait ‘till you see what he’s done now.” He held up the latest issue of the Daily Prophet and turned to page three. “There’s this thing on page three where people can send in articles they wrote themselves. Kind of like editorials, only not from the editor. And it looks like Bellowes decided to pick up a quill.”
A photo of Ron sat smiling bashfully in the centre of the page, accompanied by two others. One of these photos was an embarrassingly unflattering photograph of him at age seventeen, gangly and smudgy-nosed. But that was not the picture that drew the most attention. It was that of a man with long, greasy black hair parted in curtains around his thin and sallow face. Cold black eyes glittered on either side of a long, hooked nose, and his general attitude appeared to match his eyes perfectly. The accompanying article read:
“Ronald Weasley: Heroic or Homicidal?
By Hadrian Bellowes
Few can say that they don’t know who Deputy Head Auror Ronald B. Weasley is”if they don’t know him from his high position in the Ministry, they invariably own a trading card featuring his image.
Most know him as Harry Potter’s brave and loyal best friend who supported him fiercely in the final battle against Voldemort, as well as killing notorious Death Eaters Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape. But did he kill as his duty to the wizarding world, or for his own personal gain?
All Aurors are equipped with a license to kill dark wizards with the killing curse if absolutely necessary, and both Malfoy and Snape were confirmed as Death Eaters by former associate Peter Pettigrew, who is currently imprisoned in Azkaban and has given the Ministry valuable information about the activities of Death Eaters in the days of Voldemort.
But here, facts become less certain. Snape was also a confirmed member of the Order of the Phoenix. Although he is best-known for killing Albus Dumbledore, theories as to Snape’s true loyalties have risen over the years.
“Dumbledore trusted Snape, and he was the most brilliant wizard who ever lived,” says Kiren Brockett, spokeswoman for the Students for Snape Association. “It wouldn’t make sense for him to be a Death Eater without Dumbledore knowing it. There’s proof that Dumbledore told Snape to return to the Death Eaters and to kill him, in order to protect the only link between the Death Eaters and the Order. Snape had to have been innocent.”
So Snape may have been innocent. But if he was a Death Eater and Weasley did not know about his secret allegiance to the Order, then he did nothing legally wrong by killing him, right?
“That would be the simple opinion,” says Brockett. “But think about it. If Snape was an Order member, wouldn’t he have done something major in the final battle? Wouldn’t he have turned on the Death Eaters? Many of the Death Eaters were, in fact, injured with the Sectumsempra or other curses that are attributed to Snape, and none of Potter’s Eight sustained these injuries. Ronald Weasley couldn’t have thought Snape was still truly evil at that point.”
It has been pointed out that the Death Eaters that Weasley killed were those against whom he held a particular grudge.
“The Malfoys hated the Weasleys, and the feeling was mutual,” noted a Diagon Alley shopkeeper. “Lucius Malfoy was always cruel to the Weasleys, even purposely allowing Ginny Weasley to become possessed by Lord Voldemort, and it made sense for Ron to want to kill him. Severus Snape was Ron’s teacher for six years, and was often unfair to him. Fenrir Greyback had attacked and disfigured his brother, Bill.
“And Peter Pettigrew, who had masqueraded as Ron’s pet rat for years and caused immeasurable amounts of trouble for his friends and family, was injured by Ron in combat. I hardly think these are all coincidences.”
There is at this time no way to prove whether Severus Snape was innocent or guilty, and the only people who can say whether Snape was killed in self-defense are those who were present at the final battle. Peter Pettigrew, one of the few ex-Death Eaters still alive, was unconscious at the time of Snape’s death and saw none of it. And as for Potter’s Eight, none of them are talking.
“I remember Weasley from school,” says an old acquaintance who wishes to remain anonymous. “He had a temper. He was normally a fairly good-humoured bloke, but he didn’t always think under pressure. I can easily see Snape muttering some comment under his breath and Weasley just turning around and killing him. I mean, he was pretty extreme sometimes. If he didn’t like someone, he hated him. He definitely had it in him to whip out a few killing curses.”
But Angus Williamson feels differently. “I’ve been an Auror since 1993, so I’m one of the oldest in the business, and I’ve seen a lot of Aurors come and go. Weasley’s my supervisor, and he’s really capable, a great strategist and excellent at working together with the rest of the forces. I’m proud to work for him.”
If any new information on the Final Battle against Voldemort is released, the Wizengamot will examine it in regards to the Weasley case. Until then, you decide whether Ronald Weasley did the right thing, and whether he deserves to remain an Auror.
“The git,” snarled Ron, sinking into his chair.
“Well, at least Williamson stuck up for you. Remind me to give him a promotion,” said Harry. He looked worried. “Still, Bellowes does have a way with words…”
Remus, however, seemed calm as usual. “Ron, you can’t be tried twice for the same offense; it’s illegal. You can’t be convicted for something you were acquitted for twenty-three years ago.”
Ron sighed. “That’s just it. I never did go to court. Scrimgeour just told me ‘good job’ and gave me the Albus Dumbledore award, and that was it.”
Everyone instinctively looked over at Emma, expecting her to let off a loud string of profanities and express the way they all felt. But she was oddly pale and silent, her freckles standing out more than usual and her shoulders hunched.
“What’s wrong, Emma?” asked Ted, knowing that if Emma was not behaving in a characteristically feisty manner, something really had to be wrong.
Emma rubbed her arms. “It’s nothing,” she replied uncomfortably. “I’m just worried about my dad’s job, okay? That Hadrian Bellowes bloke is about as big a creep as they come.”
“Are you””
“I SAID, I’M WORRIED ABOUT MY DAD’S JOB!” snapped Emma, standing up in a whirl of wavy hair and fierce eyes. “Are you deaf or something? Sheesh!” She set her fork down and headed up the stairs to Haley’s room, stomping loudly all the way.
Ron shrugged. “Well, at least she cares about her old father,” he said. “And I mean, there’s not much chance that they’ll unearth anything really groundbreaking about Snape anytime soon, so I guess I’m fine. I’m just really mad at Bellowes for sinking my reputation.”
Unfortunately, Ron was wrong. Dead wrong. But he wouldn’t realize this for quite some time.
Later that day, things were calmer. Ron and Remus Lupin had returned to their respective homes, and Emma seemed a bit more like her usual self, though still rather quieter than usual. It was a bright and clear day outside, so when Haley suggested a shopping trip to London and specifically Diagon Alley, everyone agreed heartily.
The five friends, accompanied by Harry (Ron had offered to take care of Holly and Jonathan, although Harry made him promise not to feed them any cookies) trooped outside to the little-used family car. As they proceeded up the driveway, however, a very tall and skinny girl raced up toward them from the house next door.
“Hi!” she exclaimed. “I just got back from Italy! Where are you going?”
“Just shopping, Giorgi,” replied Ivy. “Nothing special.”
Giorgi (short for Giordan) Anderson was a friend of Jordan’s. They shared a first name and interests in football and computers, but little else. Giorgi was a Muggle, but a highly unusual one in that she knew all about magic and had gone on a magical mission with her wizarding friends the previous year.
She was easily spotted in a crowd, with her ear-length hair freshly dyed a brilliant candy-apple red and her very unique sense of style. On that particular day, she was wearing a sky blue t-shirt decorated with a pattern of flying pigs and a sparkly, bright yellow miniskirt. Her long jacket looked as though she’d stolen it from a military general who had served in the eighteenth century, and her feet were encased in bubblegum-pink galoshes. A pinstriped fedora was perched jauntily atop her head, and her earrings were a large feather and a string of paper clips respectively. All ten of her fingernails were painted to look like ladybugs.
“Shopping? I’ll come, too!” chirped Giorgi, who tended to end her sentences with exclamation points.
Jordan laughed somewhat nervously. “Er, that probably wouldn’t be wise, seeing as we’re going to Diagon Alley, and Muggles aren’t allowed in.”
Giorgi folded her arms and pouted. All of her facial expressions were very distinctive because her triangular face bore a strong resemblance to that of a cartoon character, with big brown eyes, a little dash of a nose, and a wide mouth. “Look, they don’t have to know I’m a Muggle. I’ve always wanted to see that place”can’t I just pretend I go to, like, some wizarding school in Australia or something?”
Jordan was about to reply with a definitive ‘no,’ but an unexpected voice spoke for him.
“You know, I don’t see why not.”
Everyone turned around to gape at Harry, who had just spoken. “Last year, I said Giorgi had to be Obliviated, but you convinced me otherwise. If she could be involved with a magical battle, I can’t see anything wrong with taking her to Diagon Alley.” He turned toward his son. “Just make sure she doesn’t do anything she shouldn’t. You’re responsible, probably more so than I am, so I have full faith in you.”
“Yesss!” exclaimed Giorgi, pumping her fist and causing her countless bangles to jangle.
“What’s the name of the Australian wizarding school, anyway?” Ted asked curiously.
There was a confused silence as everyone scratched their heads.
“Dingo-Bunions?” suggested Giorgi.
Jordan sighed. “Giorgi, if anyone talks to you, just nod and smile. You’re good at it.”
Giorgi replied by doing just that, then stomping on his toes with the force of a jackhammer as everyone piled into the car.
“Shotgun!” called Haley, jumping into the passenger seat before anyone else could claim it. Because the interior of the car was, in fact, magically expanded, the other five could all fit comfortably in the backseat”and as Emma loudly declared, she had no intention of leaving Ted and Ivy alone back there.
Everyone had favourite landmarks that proved they were nearing London, having passed them so many times. When they reached Flip’s Fish and Chips, featuring a statue of a ten-foot fish wearing a bowler hat and a mustache, Emma leaned over across Ted’s lap toward the driver’s seat and honked the car horn loudly. Ted cheered as they passed a small alpaca farm. Haley and Ivy high-fived enthusiastically when they saw a store called “Eraser Mart: The Emporium For All Your Erasing Needs.” And when they finally drove by Abbey Road, Jordan couldn’t help but laugh as four long-haired men crossed the street in front of the car, one of them barefoot.
Finally, they arrived at a small and grubby pub. “This is it!” announced Harry, dropping a few coins of Muggle money into a parking meter.
Giorgi blinked as she stepped out of the car, squinting at all of the store fronts. “This is what?”
“The Leaky Cauldron, duh,” said Emma, smacking her playfully in the head as she made her way toward the pub.
Giorgi shook her head. “I don’t see anything.”
“Oh!” Ted exclaimed. He pointed at the Leaky Cauldron. “I know it looks like I’m pointing at nothing, but it’s the Leaky Cauldron. It’s invisible to Muggles normally… but have you ever, like, read Peter Pan, where the fairies die if you say ‘I don’t believe in fairies’ but if you say ‘I do believe in fairies,’ then they live?”
“Ummm, yeahhh…” said Giorgi, who had absolutely no idea where this was going. All she knew was that six-foot-five werewolf was pointing into thin air, insisting there was something there, and babbling on about fairies.
“Basically, you have to believe that the Leaky Cauldron’s there, and that’s what makes it appear. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the only way to get in.”
Very rarely in the history of the magical world had Muggles managed to enter the Leaky Cauldron, but it was still technically possible, and Giorgi did have total faith in magic. After a moment of thinking and contemplating and impatient foot-tapping from Emma, she blinked and did a double take. “Whoa! There’s… a pub there!”
“Yep,” replied Harry. “Come on, let’s go through to Diagon Alley. We have to beat rush hour.”
The party proceeded through the dingy pub, where three Aurors sitting and drinking at the bar waved to Harry. “Hey, Potter!” called an Auror with a long ponytail and scarlet robes. “Want to join us in a pint?”
“Can’t, Williamson,” replied Harry. “I’m here as a chaperone for the kids. I’ve got to be a good role model.” Suddenly, his head whipped around. “Did you make sure that mead’s not poisoned?” he barked. “Constant vigilance!”
The three Aurors all laughed heartily, and Harry and company walked out through the backdoor into a small courtyard.
“Hey, can I tap the bricks to get into Diagon Alley?” Haley asked eagerly, pulling her wand from the pocket of her jeans.
“Be my guest,” replied her father, and she, frowning in concentration, prodded several bricks in the wall of the archway with her wand. Instantly, the bricks began to shift and revolve, spreading back and reshuffling to reveal… an archway, leading down into a bright and bustling street. Eccentrically dressed characters strolled amidst shops selling everything from eel eyes to crystal balls, countless owls circled overhead with mail, and roaming vendors carried sweets that made any Muggle confections pale in comparison. Giorgi stared openmouthed, her already wide eyes bugging out in disbelief.
“Phletamgah,” she whispered, apparently tongue-tied by the site.
“What was that?” prompted Ivy.
Giorgi cleared her throat. “I said, I think I just wet myself.”
“Good thing you’re wearing a yellow skirt, then!” chirped Haley as she skipped through the archway and turned to face the rest of the group. “Well, I’m going to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Who else wants to be cool and come with me?”
“Well, I want to be cool, so I guess I have no choice,” said Emma, and she and her cousin scampered away from the rest of the party, clearly plotting and conspiring as to what sorts of mischief they’d be making that year.
“We’re going to get some robes at Madame Malkin’s, Dad,” Ivy told her father, gesturing toward herself and Ted. “But I don’t know how much they’ll cost, so, er, I might not have brought enough money… is it okay if I borrow some from you later if I didn’t bring enough? I’ll pay you back.”
Harry looked at his watch. “If you need me, I’ll be at the café next to the Quidditch suppliers,” he informed her. “Your mother’s meeting me there. But if you do need some money, you don’t have to pay me back later. It’s all right.”
“Okay, thanks!” Ivy said gratefully having never quite adjusted completely to the fact that the Potters, her parents for the past two years, would gladly do anything for her/
She and Ted headed off for the robe shop and Harry for the café, leaving Giorgi and Jordan still standing by the archway.
“Well,” Jordan said, raising his eyebrows, “what shall we do now?”
Giorgi’s eyes sparkled. “Everything!”
And Jordan being Jordan, he took this request literally. Few things made him happier than having an audience who was actually willing to listen to him relate his extensive knowledge, and since Giorgi wanted to learn as much as possible about magic, they were both very satisfied.
Jordan pointed out buildings and related little known facts (“Apparently, Nearly-Headless Nick’s execution was here… in some crazy family in New Guinea, there’s a tradition that the eldest surviving female of that family has to make a pilgrimage here every year on Nick’s deathday and leave a gift) and Giorgi drank in her surroundings as much as she could and made wisecracks. She also insisted on using a fake (and extremely bad) Australian accent at all times, which caused her to sound more like a Cockney beggar than anything else.
Aside from her strange accent, Giorgi actually blended in surprisingly well with the landscape. In fact, with her seeming lack of knowledge of Muggle clothing, she was less likely to be accused of being a Muggle than Jordan, with his plain Muggle clothes in dark and subdued colours.
By the end of an hour and a half, she had managed to persuade Jordan to buy her a chocolate frog (she was thrilled to learn that it came with a card that featured Albus Dumbledore), some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans (he managed to trick her into eating a horseradish bean, and she retaliated by force-feeding him two vomits and an earwax), a small book on palmistry (although he informed her vehemently that he didn’t believe in such rubbish), a dragon tooth on a necklace cord, and her very own personalized witch’s hat.
“Giorgi, you do realize that the people at your school will think you belong to a cult if you wear that, correct?” protested Jordan.
Giorgi shrugged. “So what? They already think I’m a freak as it is, so I don’t see what difference one hat’s going to make. And besides, it’s pretty obvious that it’s just a costume. When I wear my pirate hat, nobody ever actually thinks I own a ship.”
“You wear a pirate hat to school?” Jordan asked incredulously.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favourites. My awesomest hat has got to be my Centurion helmet, though.”
Jordan snorted. “You are as strange as they come.”
“I know you are, but what am I?”
“You? They don’t come as strange as you, Giorgi. It would frighten the children.”
“Look who’s talking, mutant!”
It was at this point that their awkward banter was interrupted by a deep, silky, and annoyingly loud voice from behind them. They happened to know this deep, silky, and annoyingly loud voice extremely well. “Oy! J.P.!” yelled the voice. “Who’s the bird?”
The two friends whirled around to face the speaker, although they didn’t have to look to see who he was.
Giorgi planted her hands on her bony hips. “The female you just objectified is me, Giorgi, you twit, Tyrone,” she said, although her big smile gave away the fact that she was obviously not serious. It was hard to dislike Tyrone, although Emma had tried extremely hard to do just that in the past. “And if you keep talking to girls like that, I’m not surprised Emma doesn’t want to go out with you.”
Tyrone Thomas, tall, well-built, and far too handsome for his own good was totally speechless. This was atypical, as he quite liked to draw attention to himself. He was a Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and had a casual, lazy manner that many girls found attractive”although his feelings were surprisingly easily injured, unbeknownst to most but his closest friends and acquaintances. “G-g-giorgi!” he managed to stammer. “What in the world are you doing here? You’re… you’re a Muggle!”
“Yeah, but that’s never stopped me before,” grinned Giorgi. “What can I say, I love magic. Maybe some day, I’ll tell McGonagall I’m a Squib and, I don’t know, volunteer to work as a janitor or something.”
Tyrone ran a hand through his short black curls, which were shiny with gel as always. “So, Jordan, you brought your Muggle girlfriend into””
“FRIEND!” interrupted both Jordan and Giorgi at once.
Tyrone rolled his eyes nonchalantly. “Whatever. You brought your friend into Diagon Alley without getting caught? I know you’re good, man, but I had no idea you were that good.”
He grinned. He was a very striking-looking young man. His bright white and irritatingly straight teeth contrasted sharply with his creamy dark-brown skin and his long and slanting eyes in their unexpectedly light shade of hazel. He had high cheekbones, well-chiseled features, and a square jaw, and he was the sort of boy who most people desperately wished would wake up one morning with a bad zit on his forehead or unsightly nostril hair to add imperfection to his unnervingly good looks.
“Sooo,” said Tyrone. “If you’re here… is Emma anywhere around? I want to show her something.”
“Yes, Emma’s here,” Jordan confirmed. “Last time I saw her, she and Haley were heading for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes cackling in a somewhat ominous manner. I suggest you be on your guard if you see either of them, and possibly wear a shield hat.”
Tyrone laughed. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind. See you around.” And with that, he strode off jauntily toward Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.
When he was out of earshot, Giorgi mentioned, “You know, I don’t think he took you seriously.”
Jordan shook his head. “I hope he realized that I wasn’t being facetious.”
“MWAHAHAHAHA! Welcome to the secret la-bor-atory!” screeched Edwin Reginald Weasley as Haley pushed open the door to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. (The sign on the door said ‘pull’ to confuse first-time customers.)
“It’s hardly a secret, this being the most popular shop in Diagon Alley and all,” pointed out Emma.
Edwin pushed up his goggles onto his sweaty forehead, causing his fuzzy red hair to stick up crazily. “Dad and Uncle George have me mixing some love potions in the back room”no you can’t have a free sample”so I’m all decked out like a mad scientist. Ignore the lab coat, ‘cause these red blotches on it probably aren’t blood.”
Edwin was a good-humoured young man of eighteen who had a summer job at his father’s store. But although he enjoyed pranks, he was a bit more serious than Fred and George”he had been a Prefect and Head Boy at Hogwarts, and his life goal was to own Honeydukes. He was slightly odd-looking with his poodle-like crown of bright red hair and dark skin tone, but he made up for his looks with charisma.
“So Edster, what’s new?” asked Haley, leaning casually against a rack full of very realistic rubber rabid rats that had been enchanted to scuttle about on their own. She suddenly realized this and, with a loud shriek, jumped onto a footstool, looking terrified out of her mind.
“Well, those for starters,” said Edwin, “And while we’re talking about the lowest common denominator of humour, we’ve got toilet seats that you can’t detach from your skin once you’ve sat down unless you say the right password”which is different for each one. We’ve got some candies that make you grow a second tongue and voice box and whatnot”very nice, those, you can have a conversation and interrupt yourself or a sing a duet all by yourself in perfect harmony.”
He moved toward another rack, gesturing like a Vegas magician’s ‘lovely assistant. “And you know seven-league boots? We’ve got some boots that, no matter how big a step you take, you only move forward seven millimeters. I believe these have literally driven several people stark raving bonkers. Oh yeah, and some feather boas that turn into totally harmless live snakes as soon as you put one around your neck. But our best new invention is right here in this box.”
Haley took the box. A label on the side read: Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes Instant Bungee Beans. Allow the eater to fall from heights of up to two hundred feet with no ill effects whatsoever. For the ridiculously brave only. She squinted in thought, her freckled nose wrinkling with concentration. Then, a sunny smile spread across her lips. “I think I’ll buy them.”
Edwin blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, of course not. I can be ridiculously brave, too, you know!” She slapped some coins into Edwin’s hand and pocketed the box.
Just then, the bell on the door jangled and a person stepped inside.
At precisely that instant, Fred and George leapt from the backroom (also dressed like mad scientists), and all three men shrieked, “MWAHAHAHAHAHA! Welcome to the secret la-bor-atory!”
Tyrone Thomas jumped about two feet into the air.
“Really, for someone who’s supposed to be so cool, you sure get worked up easily,” commented Emma.
Tyrone composed himself. “Er, hi,” he said. “It’s, uh, nice to see you again.”
“Yeah.”
There was a brief and awkward silence. Tyrone coughed, and Emma realized that she had forgotten to blink or breathe. It must have been because she was still worried about her father’s bad news, she decided.
“Had a good summer?” both of them blurted out at once.
Tyrone laughed nervously and flexed his fingers. “Oookay. Well, I bought something cool today, and I want you to be the first to see it.”
“What am I, chopped mandrake?” asked Haley with an exaggerated pout. She hated being left out of anything, and this little conversation was no exception.
“I’m hardly hiding it from you, Haley.” He held up a small, white carton with the proud expression of someone who’d just found the world’s biggest gold nugget ever discovered.
Emma raised an eyebrow, causing her cousin to kick her in the shins. “Wow, Chinese food. Amazing,” she said sarcastically.
“I doubt you’d want to eat this,” replied Tyrone, opening the carton and gently lifting out something small and… alive. “Viola!” he announced. “Meet Fido, my new pet!”
Now Emma couldn’t hold back her laughter. It burst forth in loud, raucous peals, and not just because he’d said ‘Viola’ instead of ‘Voila’. “Tyrone,” she choked, “That is a toad.”
“Yeah, I know,” Tyrone responded fondly, stroking Fido’s warty back.
“You do realize that bringing a toad to school is about the dorkiest thing you can do, aside from, say, pulling your pants up to your chin and singing songs about the digits of pi, right?” She paused. “And just a heads-up, Fido probably won’t turn into a handsome prince if you kiss him.”
Tyrone held up his head with dignity. “Toads have been uncool for so long that it’s about time for them to be cool again. I’m starting a trend here,” he informed her smoothly.
“I like it,” said Haley, feeling a bit like a third wheel in this conversation. She generally thought everything was cute, so it went without saying that she approved of Tyrone’s purchase of the toad.
“Yeah!” Tyrone insisted. “Listen to your cousin, Em.” He cupped Fido in his hands and held him just a few inches away from Emma’s face. “Besides, you have to admit that you love Fido. You can’t help it.”
Emma hesitated. “We-ell… he is sort of cute, in a sort of slimy and gross way,” she admitted. “Kind of like you.”
Fred, George, and Edwin elbowed one another in a manner totally lacking any sort of subtlety whatsoever, Haley dropped a box of ready-made Polyjuice Potion (“just drop in a hair and drink!”), and Tyrone’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Emma rather wished that the ground would swallow her. She hadn’t meant to say that”she’d meant to say something else, and it had come out the wrong way. She really wasn’t herself, and she didn’t know why.
“Look,” she explained loudly, “It’s not like you’re ugly, and you know it. Lots of things are cute”koalas, babies, rubber ducks”so what? I mean, Ophidias Malfoy’s good-looking, too, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Tyrone winked. “Doesn’t matter,” he told Emma. “I take what I can get.” He tipped Fido back into the carton, bowed to Emma, and danced out of the shop.
Emma swore under her breath. “I need food,” she muttered. “Now. Preferably not Chinese.”
“That was interesting,” Ted remarked mildly.
He and Ivy had just watched with some interest as Tyrone Thomas danced by, brandishing a Chinese food carton and calling, “Hey, Ted! Hi, Ivy! TOADS ARE COOL!”
“Well,” said Ivy, changing the subject from the eccentricity of the people around her, “Madame Malkin’s is right over there. Are you just getting new school robes, or dress robes, too?"
"Both," replied Ted, unwrapping a chocolate frog and stuffing it into his mouth. "Believe me, Ivy, you really would not want to be seen at the ball with someone who's got on short robes with these pale, hairy legs sticking out of the bottom."
"Awww," said Ivy, smiling. "I think I would anyway."
Ted squeezed her hand. "Well, you're nice," he said. "But you won't have to, because I am definitely buying dress robes today."
Ivy pulled the door open for Ted, and they stepped into the robe shop, which displayed robes in every colour, fabric, and pattern imaginable. “This school year’s going to be different,” she remarked, “with our N.E.W.T.s level classes and all. It’s the first time we’re going to have different schedules from each other.”
“Yeah,” replied Ted. “And I heard Transfiguration’s especially tough.” He raised his eyebrows. “Though you shouldn’t have any trouble with that, Miss O-plus.”
Ivy blushed again.
Madame Malkin bustled toward them with a measuring tape and scissors, greeting them with a cheery, “Good morning! Now, who should I measure first?”
“Ted can go first,” offered Ivy. “I need to pick out which robes I want, and I haven’t got any taller for years, so you really don’t need to measure me.”
“All-righty, then!” chirped Madame Malkin as Ted climbed up on the stool for measurement. Ted had never found it exactly comfortable to have a levitating tape measure taking his measurements, so he stood atop the stool, feeling slightly ill at ease. When it measured around his neck for his collar size, he couldn’t help but imagine it strangling him and then floating off to find other victims while cackling an evil little tape-measure-y laugh.
“Well!” said Madame Malkin when the tape measure was finished (the measuring having been incident- and strangle-free). “You’re grown four more inches since the last time you bought robes. If you keep growing at this rate, you’ll be my top customer, replacing your robes so often.”
Ted smiled. “If I keep growing at this rate, I’ll be too tall to get in through the shop door in a few years, so I hope this is it for me.” He was very aware of his height, having grown at a truly alarming rate since his fourth year, and didn’t particularly like it when people constantly pointed this out. But Ted being who he was, he was too polite to say anything about it.
“I’ll go get some robes for you,” Madame Malkin said. “Be back in a minute to take them in for you.” And she headed for the rows of school robes, trying to find a set that was long enough for him without swallowing up his skinny frame.
Ivy, too, was perusing the racks of robes, looking for some that suited her. She was just holding up a silky lavender set of robes in consideration when she heard a slight cough behind her and turned around to see to whom she owed the pleasure of possible infection.
Behind her stood a man with eyebrows that resembled a mustache on his forehead and a mustache that resembled two eyebrows above his mouth. He was dressed in a sombre brown cloak and was wearing a bowler hat and a severe and businesslike expression.
“I am Uther Smith-Smythe of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” he said importantly. “Are you Ivy Malfoy?”
Ivy shook her head. “No, I’m Ivy Potter.”
Uther Smith-Smythe raised his mustache-like eyebrows. “For the time being, that is,” he said.
Now Ivy was confused. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t quite follow you. What do you mean?”
“You are to appear before the Wizengamot in one week,” Uther Smith-Smythe informed her, handing her a fat manila envelope. “Pansy Malfoy has been released from Azkaban prison and is demanding your custody. Good day to you.”
And he tipped his bowler hat and departed briskly, leaving Ivy clutching the envelope with an expression of confused shock on her face.