Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of A Nundu for A Pet.
If you want to Read 12 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First LINK
Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51, Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, and Chapter 55 are already available for Patrons.
The cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley gleamed in the morning sunlight as Harry stepped through the archway from the Leaky Cauldron, flanked by the Tonks family. Despite the early hour, the alley was already bustling with activity—parents shepherding excited children, shop owners arranging displays, and the occasional owl swooping overhead with deliveries clutched in their talons.
Harry adjusted his grip on Itisa, who was draped across his shoulders like a living scarf. The disguised Nundu's golden eyes surveyed the crowds with regal disdain, occasionally flicking an ear when someone passed too close for comfort.
"I still don't understand why we need seven books by the same author," Harry grumbled, pulling out his Hogwarts letter to double-check the list. "It's as if he's the only person who's ever written about magical defense."
Ted chuckled, ruffling Harry's perpetually messy hair. "Welcome to the wonderful world of academic publishing, lad. Sometimes it's about what you know, but more often it's about who you know."
"Well, Lockhart certainly seems to know how to sell books," Harry muttered.
"You think your list is bad," Nymphadora groaned, waving her own parchment. Her hair shifted to a sulky shade of indigo as she spoke. "O.W.L. year means double the Lockhart. Ten books! His collected works on countering curses and a special anthology on proper defensive wand techniques."
"I'm sure they're very informative," Andromeda interjected, though her usual composure wavered slightly.
"Lady Andromeda," Harry said with exaggerated innocence, "you seem quite familiar with Lockhart's work. What exactly has he done that's so impressive? Besides write about himself, of course."
Andromeda smoothed her robes, regaining her dignified air. "Gilderoy Lockhart has encountered and defeated numerous dangerous magical creatures and dark wizards. He's rescued entire villages from vampire attacks, banished banshees, and even cured a werewolf of his affliction."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "That last one seems particularly impressive, considering I've never heard of a werewolf cure before. Has he received any awards for these achievements? An Order of Merlin, perhaps?"
"Of course, not," Ted said right away with a smile. "But he has received the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five years running."
"How reassuring," Harry deadpanned. "I'm sure his smile was very helpful against those vampires."
Itisa made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort, her tail curling in what Harry had come to recognize as amusement.
"You're one to talk about fame," Nymphadora teased, her hair brightening to a mischievous pink. "Mr. 'Potter Talismans' himself. What would Lockhart think if he knew he was teaching the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Also-Makes-Fancy-Magical-Trinkets?"
"They're not trinkets," Harry protested, though he couldn't help smiling. "And unlike some people, I don't put my face on everything I make."
"Only because you haven't thought of it yet," Nymphadora countered. "Imagine the sales boost! 'Now with genuine Potter-approved lightning bolt design!'"
Harry rolled his eyes, but secretly, he appreciated the teasing.
Ted checked his pocket watch and nodded toward the imposing white marble building at the end of the alley. "We should head to Flourish and Blotts first, then we've got business at Gringotts afterward. I've arranged a meeting with Gornuk about the new production run and your vault access."
"My vault access?" Harry asked, his interest piqued. Despite having learned about his inheritance when he'd first entered the wizarding world, he'd had limited involvement with the actual management of his finances.
"You're turning twelve, and with the talisman business expanding, it's time you learned how to handle your affairs," Ted explained. "The goblins respect those who understand the value of gold and the sanctity of contracts."
Harry nodded, feeling a pleasant mix of anxiety and excitement. It was another step toward independence, toward becoming someone who could stand on his own.
As they made their way through the crowded street, Itisa tensed suddenly, her gaze fixed on something ahead. Harry followed her line of sight and spotted a familiar figure with a monocle and severe updo—Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, accompanied by her niece, Susan.
"Susan!" Harry called out, his face brightening at the sight of his friend.
Itisa made a soft chirping sound that only Harry could identify as her signal of approval. Unlike most people, Susan had never shown any fear of his unusual pet, and had even once sneaked Itisa an entire slice of roast beef under the table during a study session.
"Some things never change," Nymphadora murmured to Harry with a wink. "You have a soft spot for Redheads, I see." Tonks teased, her own hair turning bright red like they were living fire.
"She's my friend," Harry hissed back, feeling his ears grow warm.
"Of course she is," Nymphadora agreed with exaggerated solemnity. "And I'm sure you call out to all your friends with that particular goofy smile."
Before Harry could formulate a suitably cutting retort, Susan had spotted them and was waving enthusiastically, her face lighting up with a smile that made Harry momentarily forget what he'd been about to say.
At least Susan doesn't tease me about everything, he thought with a mixture of exasperation and fondness as they approached the Bones women. Though with my luck, she and Nymphadora will team up eventually, and then I'll never hear the end of it.
"Harry!" Susan called, her auburn hair bouncing as she hurried toward him. She threw her arms around him in a quick but enthusiastic hug that caught Harry slightly off-guard—but not unpleasantly so.
"Good to see you too, Susan," Harry laughed, stepping back. He glanced up at Madam Bones, whose stern expression had softened slightly at the children's reunion. "Hello, Madam Bones."
"Mr. Potter," Amelia Bones acknowledged with a stoic nod, her monocle glinting in the sunlight. Her gaze moved to the adults accompanying him. "Mister Ted, Lady Andromeda... and young Nymphadora."
"Just Tonks, please," Nymphadora muttered, looking irritated.
Amelia's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "As you wish." She turned her attention to Ted and Harry. "Fortuitous timing. I sent an owl this morning to arrange a meeting for tomorrow, but it seems I needn't have bothered."
Ted cleared his throat, curiosity evident in his expression. "What can we help you with, Amelia?"
"Why don't we discuss as we walk?" Amelia suggested, gesturing toward Flourish and Blotts. "I imagine we're all heading in the same direction."
As the adults fell into step together, Susan tugged on Harry's sleeve, creating a small pocket of privacy within their moving group.
"How have you been?" she asked, her eyes bright with genuine interest. "I've been hoping to hear from you since your birthday."
"Sorry about that," Harry replied, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I've been busy with research mostly—working on designs for new talismans I want to try during second year."
He deliberately omitted any mention of Dobby or the strange warning. The last thing he wanted was to worry Susan before school had even started, and besides, Ted was already discussing the matter with Madam Bones.
"That sounds fascinating," Susan said. "I've been doing some extra reading myself—about the Patronus Charm."
"Patronus Charm?" Harry repeated, unfamiliar with the term. "What's that?"
Susan's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "It's called 'Expecto Patronum'—quite a powerful spell. It creates a guardian made of positive energy that can repel Dementors and certain other Dark creatures."
"And you're studying it now?" Harry asked, impressed but puzzled. "Isn't that advanced magic?"
"Most wizards don't learn it until fifth year, if at all," Susan confirmed with a nod. "Many adults can't even cast it properly."
"Then why are you—"
A teasing smile played on Susan's lips. "That's my secret, Harry Potter."
Harry raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You know I'll find out eventually."
"Maybe," Susan conceded, her smile widening. "But where's the fun in telling you everything at once?"
Their conversation was interrupted as Harry caught fragments of the adults' discussion. Amelia's voice had taken on a more serious tone.
"—won't be purchasing anymore talismans this month, I'm afraid."
Harry's attention snapped fully to their conversation. "Is something wrong with them?" he asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.
Amelia turned to him, her expression softening slightly. "Not at all, Mr. Potter. Your talismans have performed admirably. Every Auror who's used one has reported positive results. The issue is... political."
Ted nodded grimly. "Let me guess—Fudge?"
"Three days ago, the Ministerial Budget Committee held a vote," Amelia explained. "The majority decided against further purchases at this time. Minister Fudge was particularly vocal about what he called 'excessive costs.'"
Harry frowned. "But the price is already lower than it should be for the level of protection they provide. Mister Ted ran the numbers—"
"I'm well aware," Amelia interrupted with a brief, approving nod. "Your pricing is more than fair. The quality-to-cost ratio is exceptional, especially for the Gilded Fang classification."
"Politics," Ted muttered darkly. "Never simple, is it?"
"The good news," Amelia continued, "is that most of our field Aurors have already been equipped with what they've taken to calling 'Potter Talismans.'"
Harry felt his cheeks warm at this. "They're actually calling them that?"
"Indeed they are," Amelia confirmed. "Quite the brand you're building, Mr. Potter."
"Famous and an entrepreneur before you're even thirteen," Nymphadora teased, ruffling his hair. "Next thing you know, you'll be on Chocolate Frog cards: 'Harry Potter: The Boy Who Made Really Good Jewelry.'"
"They're not jewelry," Harry protested, batting her hand away. "They're defensive magical artifacts."
"Fancy magical jewelry," Nymphadora insisted with a grin.
Harry turned back to Madam Bones. "You mentioned wanting to meet with us. Was it about the Ministry's decision not to purchase more talismans?"
"Partially," she replied. "But there's another matter. Six days from now, I would like you and mister Ted—to come to the Ministry."
"May I ask why?" Harry inquired, curiosity overtaking his previous disappointment.
"The Italian Ministry of Magic has expressed interest in meeting with you," Amelia explained. "Their Head of Magical Law Enforcement will be visiting London specifically for this purpose."
Harry blinked in surprise. Though Ted had mentioned the possibility of international interest just yesterday, the reality of it happening so quickly was still startling.
"The Italians want to meet me? About my talismans?"
"Precisely," Amelia confirmed. "If the meeting goes well, you could see your talismans being used by law enforcement throughout southern Europe."
Susan clapped her hands together excitedly. "This is amazing, Harry! You're going to be the best wizard in the world at this rate!"
"Slow down," Harry muttered, though he couldn't help but feel a flutter of pride. "They just want to talk."
"Don't downplay it," Nymphadora said, her tone unusually serious for a moment. "International recognition at your age is extraordinary, Harry. You should be proud."
Amelia gave a small smile. "Indeed. The Italians are not easily impressed, Mr. Potter. Their interest speaks volumes about your craftsmanship."
Harry felt a strange mix of emotions—pride, certainly, but also a nagging discomfort at being the center of attention yet again, albeit for something he had actually accomplished rather than for surviving as a baby.
"Well," Amelia said, checking her watch, "Susan and I have another errand to run before we collect her books. We should be on our way."
"It was good seeing you, Harry," Susan said. "I'll save you a seat on the Hogwarts Express if I see you?"
"Absolutely," Harry agreed with a smile.
As Amelia and Susan turned to leave, Nymphadora stepped forward. "Madam Bones, before you go—I was hoping to ask you about Auror training requirements. I'm starting my O.W.L. year, and I'm thinking about—"
"Nymphadora!" Andromeda interjected. "You still have years of education ahead of you before that becomes relevant."
"It's never too early to prepare," Nymphadora countered, her hair cycling through determined shades of blue and purple.
"Your mother is right," Amelia said, though not unkindly. "Focus on your studies first. But," she added, seeing Nymphadora's crestfallen expression, "you may owl me with specific questions if you wish. The Auror program could certainly benefit from more metamorphmagi."
This seemed to placate Nymphadora, whose hair settled into a satisfied turquoise.
As they watched Amelia and Susan disappear into the crowd, Harry found himself thinking about the meeting with the Italian Ministry. It was a strange feeling—being sought after for something he had created rather than for the scar on his forehead.
"Ready to face the bookshop crowd?" Ted asked, gesturing toward Flourish and Blotts where a sizable gathering was already forming.
Harry sighed, stroking Itisa who was still draped around his shoulders. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Itisa made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a groan of commiseration.
The crowd outside Flourish and Blotts had swelled to alarming proportions by the time they arrived. Witches of all ages—though predominantly middle-aged—were jostling for position near the entrance, many clutching books or photographs with expressions of breathless anticipation. A large banner stretched across the upper windows of the shop:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 — 4:30 pm
"Oh joy," Harry muttered. "Looks like we've arrived just in time for the spectacle."
Itisa, still draped around his shoulders, made a low rumbling sound deep in her throat as she surveyed the crowd. Several nearby witches eyed the large cat with suspicion.
"Maybe you should wait outside, girl," Harry suggested, scratching behind her ears. "I don't think you'd enjoy being crushed by Lockhart's adoring public."
Itisa fixed him with a baleful stare that clearly conveyed her opinion on being left behind, but after a moment's consideration, she gracefully slid from his shoulders and settled herself regally atop a nearby crate outside the apothecary shop opposite. From this vantage point, she could maintain a clear line of sight to the bookshop entrance.
"We'll be quick," Harry promised, though both of them knew that with this crowd, "quick" was likely optimistic.
The Tonks family pressed their way into the shop, Ted taking the lead and creating a path through the throng with a combination of polite excuses and strategic elbow placement. The interior of the shop was even more chaotic than the outside—a long line of witches and wizards snaked through the shelves, all waiting for an audience with the man himself.
And there he was.
Harry got his first clear view of Gilderoy Lockhart, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that perfectly matched his eyes, with a pointed wizard's hat set at a jaunty angle atop his wavy golden hair. A small, irritable-looking wizard danced around him, taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with each blinding flash.
Lockhart was beaming so widely that Harry briefly wondered if his face might split in half from the strain. Every few seconds, he would toss his head back with a practiced chuckle, or run his fingers through his immaculately styled hair with casual self-importance.
"What do you think?" Andromeda whispered.
Harry watched as Lockhart caught his own reflection in a nearby mirror and actually winked at himself.
"I think," Harry said slowly, "that he loves himself so much he'd snog his own reflection if he could figure out how to make it corporeal."
Nymphadora burst into such sudden, explosive laughter that several nearby witches turned to glare at her. She quickly transformed her snort into an unconvincing cough, but her hair had shifted to a vibrant, amused orange.
"That's—" she wheezed between fake coughs, "—that's the most accurate description of anyone I've ever heard."
Ted's shoulders were shaking with suppressed mirth, though he managed to keep his expression neutral. Even Andromeda's lips twitched upward despite her obvious effort to appear disapproving.
"Let's just find the books we need and get out of here," Harry suggested, moving toward the shelves that held the Hogwarts required texts. "With luck, we can avoid attracting any—"
"Harry! Over here!"
Harry turned to see Hermione waving enthusiastically from beside a towering stack of books. Next to her stood Neville Longbottom, who was comparing two seemingly identical Lockhart titles with a perplexed expression.
"Hello, Hermione, Neville," Harry greeted them, genuinely pleased to see his friends despite the circumstances. "Doing your school shopping too?"
"Yes! Isn't this exciting?" Hermione beamed, gesturing toward the signing table. "All of his books are on our reading list this year, you know."
"I noticed," Harry replied dryly. "All seven of them."
"It's because he's going to be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Hermione explained, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "Can you believe it? We're going to be taught by Gilderoy Lockhart himself!"
Harry felt something catch in his throat. "He's our new professor?" he managed to ask, certain he must have misheard.
Neville nodded glumly. "Gran says it's a publicity stunt. Says Dumbledore must have been desperate after what happened to Professor Quirrell." He lowered his voice. "You know, after you... um..."
"After I what?" Harry asked innocently, though he knew exactly what Neville was referring to. The official story about Quirrell's departure had been vague at best.
"Nothing," Neville mumbled, his cheeks reddening. "Anyway, I can't figure out which of these books I need. They both say 'Voyages with Vampires,' but this one has a regular cover, and this one is a special edition with—" he grimaced slightly, "—forty percent more personal photographs."
"Take the regular one," Harry advised. "Unless you're particularly interested in seeing Lockhart posing with various hair products."
Hermione tutted disapprovingly. "His books are actually quite informative, Harry. The way he handled that banshee in Bandon was revolutionary. And his techniques for werewolf management in 'Wanderings with Werewolves' have been cited by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"Really?" Harry asked skeptically. "Because Mister Newt Scamander has never mentioned him once, and Newt literally wrote the book on magical creatures."
"Well, perhaps Mr. Scamander hasn't read Lockhart's work," Hermione suggested, though she seemed slightly less certain.
Harry decided not to press the point. Instead, he began collecting his own required books, working his way methodically through the shelves as Nymphadora did the same nearby.
When he finally reached the display of Lockhart titles, he saw exactly what Nymphadora had described earlier. Each book featured an enormous photograph of Lockhart's face dominating the cover, with the actual title relegated to a small strip at the bottom, almost as an afterthought. On "Gadding with Ghouls," Lockhart was winking roguishly; on "Year with the Yeti," he was striking a heroic pose against a snowy backdrop that looked suspiciously like it had been added later.
"They're all the same," Harry observed. "Different backgrounds, different poses, but essentially just seven different excuses to put his face on a book."
Neville, who had joined him at the display, nodded in agreement. "I keep checking the titles, hoping I've grabbed the wrong ones and don't actually need all of these."
"No such luck," Harry sighed, adding "Holidays with Hags" to his growing stack.
Hermione appeared beside them, her arms already full of not only the required Lockhart books but several additional titles. "You both look so gloomy! This is going to be such an informative year with Professor Lockhart teaching us. Just imagine all the practical experience he'll bring to the classroom."
"Yes, I'm sure his expertise in teeth-whitening charms will be invaluable when facing dark wizards," Harry remarked dryly. "First lesson: blind them with your smile before they can curse you."
Neville snorted, quickly covering his mouth to stifle his laughter as Hermione's expression shifted from excitement to disapproval.
"That's not fair, Harry," she chided. "Lockhart has faced countless dangerous creatures. You shouldn't judge him before you've even had a class with him."
"I was hoping to get Newt to sign my copy of 'Fantastic Beasts' next time I see him," Harry said casually, "But I doubt there'd be room for his signature among all of... this." He gestured at the Lockhart display.
"What are you doing, Harry?" a familiar voice called out, louder than necessary. "Planning another prank without us? I'm wounded!"
Harry turned to see Fred and George Weasley navigating through the bookshelves toward him, identical mischievous grins on their freckled faces. His initial pleasure at seeing the twins quickly transformed into alarm as he realized just how loudly they'd announced his presence.
"Could you possibly have said that any louder?" Harry asked with a grimace. "I don't think the people in Hogsmeade quite heard you."
"Well, we could try," Fred (or possibly George) offered helpfully.
"HARRY POTTER!" the other twin bellowed, causing several nearby customers to jump. "SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD AND MASTERMIND BEHIND THE GREAT HOUSE ROBE SWAP OF NINETY-ONE!"
Harry groaned, shoving his books into Neville's arms and clamping a hand over the shouting twin's mouth. "You two were part of it as well, don't play innocent with me."
The damage, however, was already done. At the signing table, Gilderoy Lockhart's head had snapped up at the mention of Harry's name. His brilliant blue eyes widened, and his smile somehow grew even more dazzling.
"It can't be Harry Potter?" Lockhart exclaimed, rising dramatically to his feet.
The crowd parted, turning as one to stare at Harry, who felt his stomach sink with the familiar sensation of unwanted attention. A murmur rippled through the shop as people realized who was standing among them.
Lockhart was already making his way toward Harry, arm outstretched as if to seize him. Harry took an instinctive step backward, bumping into a bookshelf. Harry was about to use his wand and tell Lockhart to back off.
Just as Lockhart was about to grab Harry's arm, Nymphadora smoothly interposed herself between them, her hair shifting to a warning shade of crimson.
"Excuse me," she said, her tone polite but firm. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"
Lockhart blinked, momentarily thrown off his rehearsed script, before recovering with a dazzling smile aimed directly at Nymphadora. "Merely welcoming young Harry! Such a fortuitous coincidence, two celebrities meeting by chance!"
Nymphadora was unimpressed by the charm offensive. She crossed her arms, her hair cycling through increasingly dangerous-looking shades. "And you need to manhandle him for that?"
"Not at all, not at all!" Lockhart laughed, a practiced sound that didn't reach his eyes. "I merely thought Harry might appreciate a photo opportunity! The Daily Prophet photographer is still here—imagine the front page: 'Potter Meets Lockhart: Magical Mentorship Begins!'"
Harry stepped out from behind Nymphadora. "Mentorship?" he repeated skeptically.
"Why, yes!" Lockhart beamed. "As one craftsman to another! I understand you've been dabbling in talisman-making—quite impressive for your age, really. I thought perhaps you'd appreciate some professional guidance from someone who's been in the field."
Harry's eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "You make talismans too?"
"Indeed I do!" Lockhart proclaimed, reaching into his elaborate robes with a flourish. He produced what was ostensibly a talisman, though it looked nothing like Harry's precisely crafted creations.
The object dangling from Lockhart's manicured fingers was a haphazard assemblage of mismatched components—bits of what appeared to be copper wire wrapped around a core of some indeterminate crystal, with various charms and trinkets haphazardly attached. The entire thing was bound together with what looked suspiciously like ordinary string that had been dyed blue, possibly to give it a more "magical" appearance.
Harry stared at it, momentarily speechless. The talisman—if it could even be called that—looked like it would fall apart if someone breathed on it too hard; it looked like it was holding itself together by hopes and prayers.
"What does it... do?" Harry finally managed, genuinely curious despite his skepticism.
"Ah!" Lockhart's smile widened. "It's still in the experimental phase, of course. But when completed, it will be the most powerful protective talisman ever created—easily reaching the Eternal Excelsior rank!"
"Eclipse Eternal," Harry corrected automatically, then regretted it as Lockhart's gaze sharpened with interest.
"You know your classifications! Splendid!" Lockhart exclaimed as if Harry had just performed a particularly impressive trick. "Yes, that's exactly what I meant. Eclipse Eternal, indeed. You see, ladies and gentlemen," he continued, addressing the now-captivated crowd, "young Harry here recognizes true talent when he sees it!"
The photographer from the Daily Prophet had materialized beside them, camera at the ready. "How about a picture of the two talisman-makers together?" he suggested eagerly.
Before Harry could object, Lockhart was already reaching for him again. This time, however, Andromeda stepped forward.
"Mr. Lockhart," she said, her aristocratic tone carrying a subtle but unmistakable warning, "Harry will decide for himself whether he wishes to participate in your photo opportunity."
Lockhart hesitated, clearly sensing that he'd encountered an immovable force in Andromeda Tonks. He turned his hopeful gaze to Harry.
"What do you say, my boy? A quick photo for your admirers?"
Harry considered his options. Refusing would create a scene and possibly tarnish Andromeda's carefully maintained image as a respectable witch. But agreeing felt like validating Lockhart's ridiculous claims about talismans...
Then a rather wicked idea formed in Harry's mind.
"I'd be delighted," Harry said with something that could only be described as 'An Evil Smile'
Lockhart beamed triumphantly, immediately throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him close. "Excellent! You won't regret this, Harry. In fact, I have wonderful news that I've been saving for the perfect moment—I'll be joining you at Hogwarts this year as your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!"
As the camera flashed, Harry maintained his smile while carefully executing two subtle moves. First, he positioned his most recently completed talisman—a proper one, with precise enchantments and quality materials—so that it would be clearly visible in the photograph next to Lockhart's pathetic attempt. The contrast couldn't have been more obvious—Harry's talisman gleamed with the subtle indicators of genuine magical craftsmanship, while Lockhart's dangled limply like a child's art project.
Simultaneously, Harry activated a minor enchantment on his talisman with a whispered word. It wouldn't be noticeable immediately, but the magic would slowly affect the photograph over the next few hours, gradually transforming Lockhart's perfect smile into an increasingly ridiculous grimace while leaving the rest of the image untouched. Additionally, as Harry's hand appeared to accidentally brush against Lockhart's robe, he slipped a tiny, almost invisible Weasley twins creation—a delayed-release color-changing powder—into the man's pocket. By dinner time, Lockhart's famously color-coordinated robes would begin shifting through a rainbow of clashing hues visible only to everyone except Lockhart himself.
"I look forward to your classes, Professor," Harry said innocently. "I'm sure they'll be... illuminating."
As the photographer thanked them and stepped away, Harry extricated himself from Lockhart's grip and rejoined his friends. Fred and George were practically doubled over with suppressed laughter, having caught exactly what Harry had done.
"Brilliant," Fred whispered. "Absolutely brilliant."
"Did you see that thing he called a talisman?" George added. "Looked like something our little sister would have made when she was five."
Harry shrugged modestly, though he couldn't quite suppress a smirk. "I just hope he's better at teaching Defense than he is at crafting talismans," he said, though the doubtful tone of his voice made it clear just how likely he thought that was.
If that's the standard of his magical skill, Harry thought as they finally made their way to the counter to pay for their books, we're going to have a very interesting year indeed—and not in a good way.
Behind him, he could still hear Lockhart regaling the crowd with tales of his upcoming teaching position, promising to transform his students into capable defenders against the Dark Arts.
I'd have better luck teaching defense myself, Harry thought wryly. At least my protective items actually work.
Their purchases complete, Harry and the Tonks family navigated their way back through the crowded bookshop toward the exit. Andromeda's expression had hardened into something cold and distant, so unlike her usual composed warmth that Harry found himself concerned. Even Ted seemed to be giving her a wider berth than usual.
"Are you alright, Lady Andromeda?" Harry asked quietly as they approached the door.
She blinked, as if surprised by the question, and her expression softened marginally. "I'm fine, Harry. Just... remembering things I'd rather forget."
Before Harry could inquire further, they stepped outside into the bright afternoon sunlight. Harry scanned the street for Itisa, preparing to call her back to his side, when the sharp sound of raised voices caught his attention.
"—disgrace to the name of wizard, associating with that sort of—"
"The sort of what, exactly?" challenged an angry voice with a distinctly Weasley-ish tone.
Harry followed the commotion to find a confrontation unfolding just a few shops down. A tall man with long platinum blonde hair and imperious features was facing off against a man with red hair, his face flushed with anger. Behind the red-haired man stood a red-haired woman and several of their children, including the twins and their younger brother Ron, whom Harry recognized from classes but barely knew.
"What's going on?" Ted asked, stepping forward with a frown.
All heads turned toward the newcomers. The blonde man's gaze swept over them, pausing with a flicker of distaste at Andromeda before landing on Harry. His expression transformed into a smile so patently false that Harry had to resist the urge to check if it was painted on.
"Harry Potter," the man said in a silky voice. "We meet again. Perhaps you don't remember me—Lucius Malfoy."
"I remember you, Mr. Malfoy," Harry replied coolly. He recalled a brief encounter three years ago when Professor McGonagall had taken him to Diagon Alley for his first look at the wizarding world. Even then, something about Malfoy had set his internal alarms ringing. "Though I can't say I've thought of you often."
Behind Lucius, Draco Malfoy snarled, his pointed face contorted with dislike.
"I've heard such... interesting things about your little crafting hobby," Lucius continued, tapping his snake-headed cane lightly against the cobblestones. "Talismans, is it? How charming. I had a distant cousin who enjoyed making trinkets as well. We eventually found her a nice quiet room at St. Mungo's."
Harry felt a flash of anger, but channeled it into a smile that matched Lucius's for insincerity. "How fascinating. I've heard about your hobbies too, Mr. Malfoy. Something about collecting cursed artifacts and hiding them from Ministry raids? Perhaps my talismans could help the Aurors who search your manor find them more effectively."
The temperature of the conversation seemed to drop several degrees. Draco stepped forward, fists clenched. "You think you're so clever, don't you, Potter? Just because you've tricked a few fools into buying your garbage."
"Garbage that's helping keep Aurors safe," Harry countered. "What have you made lately, Draco? Besides excuses for your student performance?"
"You little—" Draco began, but was interrupted by the arrival of a beautiful blonde woman who moved with aristocratic grace to position herself beside Lucius.
"Now, now, Draco," she said in a voice like chilled silk. "You should show respect to your housemates." Despite her words, there was no warmth in her tone, only calculation.
Her gaze shifted to Andromeda, and the temperature dropped even further. The resemblance between the two women was suddenly, startlingly obvious to Harry—the same elegant bone structure, the same bearing, though Andromeda's features were warmer, more human.
"How have you been, Cissy?" Andromeda asked, her voice dripping with a venom Harry had never heard from her before.
"I don't believe I gave you permission to use that name, blood traitor," Narcissa replied with glacial precision. "You forsook any right to family intimacy when you chose that... creature over your own kind."
Ted stiffened beside Harry, but maintained his composure.
Nymphadora was less restrained. Her hair flamed scarlet as she whipped out her wand, aiming it directly at her aunt. "Say that again about my father," she growled, her features shifting slightly as her metamorphmagus abilities responded to her anger.
In the same instant, Lucius's wand appeared in his hand, though he kept it pointed at the ground—for now.
"Andromeda," he drawled, "do control your animal before someone mistakes it for a rabid creature and puts it down."
Harry felt his own anger surging and found his hand moving toward his wand, and Itisa was standing behind Lucius, as if waiting for Harry's command to kill them, but Andromeda's firm grip on his shoulder stopped him.
"Lower your wand, Nymphadora," she said quietly. "They're not worth the magic."
For a moment, Harry thought Nymphadora might refuse, but she slowly lowered her wand, though her hair remained a dangerous red.
"Our business here is concluded," Narcissa announced, turning to her husband and son. "Lucius, Draco, we're leaving."
As the Malfoys swept away, Harry noticed the red-haired man watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. The twins caught Harry's eye and gave him identical nods of approval, apparently impressed by how he'd handled Lucius.
"Well," Ted sighed once the Malfoys were out of earshot, "that was unpleasant."
"Family reunions often are," Andromeda replied with brittle humor.
Harry glanced between them. "She's your sister?"
"Was," Andromeda corrected firmly. "The family ties were severed when I married Ted. In their eyes, I no longer exist."
"Their loss," Harry said simply.
Andromeda's expression softened as she looked at him. "Indeed it is."
"Mr. Weasley," Ted said, extending his hand to Arthur, "good to see you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
"Ted! Andromeda!" Arthur replied warmly, shaking Ted's hand. "And young Harry! The twins have told us all about you, of course."
"All good things, we promise," Fred (or possibly George) called out.
"Mostly," the other twin added with a grin.
Harry nodded politely to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, feeling slightly awkward. Despite making a prank with the twins at Hogwarts, he had limited interaction with Ron Weasley, who was standing a few steps back, watching Harry with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
"Sorry about the scene with Malfoy," Harry said. "Seems like he was already giving you trouble before we arrived."
"Lucius Malfoy," Arthur Weasley said with unusual grimness, "has a talent for finding trouble wherever he goes."
Mrs. Weasley stepped forward, her kind face creased with concern. "You should all come to the Burrow for tea sometime. It's been too long, Andromeda."
"I'd like that, Molly," Andromeda replied with genuine warmth.
As the two families exchanged pleasantries, Harry felt a familiar weight against his legs and looked down to find Itisa weaving between them, her golden eyes fixed on the retreating backs of the Malfoys with unmistakable suspicion.
"Good instincts," Harry murmured, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. "I don't trust them either."
For a moment, he caught himself wondering what Itisa might do if she ever confronted the Malfoys in her true Nundu form. The thought was both alarming and, he had to admit, darkly satisfying.
Not that I'd ever allow it, he reminded himself hastily. But still... it's a pleasant thought for dealing with unpleasant people.
As they finally said their goodbyes to the Weasleys and continued toward Gringotts, Harry found himself reflecting on the strange complexities of wizarding families. The Malfoys with their cold hauteur, the warm chaos of the Weasleys, and the Tonks family—a testament to choosing love over tradition.
He was grateful, not for the first time, that fate had brought him to the latter.
If you want to Read 12 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Drinor Patreon' in Google and Click the First LINK