The Girl Who Lived

Journey to the Magical World

         Dustbins, mailboxes, and even the occasional house jumped out of the way as a purple, triple-decker bus sped along a busy street. The bus swerved around various other vehicles as the driver, who seemed unaware of any and all traffic laws, avoided countless collisions. Around a dozen armchairs slid across the floor, moving with every turn and directional change. There was a loud BANG as the busy streets outside were replaced with fields and farms.

On the first storey sat two passengers. There was a giant of a man, who barely fit within his seat, and a bespectacled girl with dark hair. The enormous man was green-faced and appeared quite ill. His large and bearded head was between his knees or as close to his knees as possible for such a large person.

The small girl, on the other hand, sat in one of the comfy chairs with her knees drawn up into her seat. There was a soft smile on her face, and her grin deepened and her lips twitched with concealed laughter every time her chair skated about the bus.

Harriet was greatly enjoying the wizarding world thus far.

She stared out a large and somewhat dusty window, watching as trees, houses, and countryside whizzed by. Her seat jerked and slid as there was another loud BANG, and the bus again jumped to a new location.

It was real. All of it: magic, witches, wizards. All of it was true.

Another loud bang brought Harriet out of her reverie.

"Ah, finally," Hagrid mumbled, a look of pure nausea crossing his face. "I hate travellin' like this."

Both giant and child stood, one lumbering to his feet and the other gracefully unfolding herself. Hagrid staggered off the bus and onto a crowded sidewalk; Harriet followed in his wake. The man leaned on the pink umbrella still clutched tightly in his fist as she simply raised both eyebrows and studied her surroundings.

They were on a bustling and busy street, filled with ever moving people. Still, no one seemed to notice the triple-decker bus. None of the hurrying people seemed to see the shabby looking pub Harriet and Hagrid stood in front of either. It was almost as if the eyes of the passers-by slid from the record shop on one side to the bookstore on the other.

Nevertheless, while what she saw did not openly appear magical, Harriet remained silent. She kept her concerns to herself as she studied the sign, which hung precariously above the door. She knew that appearances could be deceiving. For all she knew, the Leaky Cauldron could be a portal to some magical world.

Hagrid gulped heavily and lumbered to the door of the pub. "We haf ter go in here ter get ter Diagon Alley." He paused at her confusion. "Diagon Alley… it's where we buy yer school stuff."

Harriet simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She stepped up behind Hagrid in order to follow him inside. But Hagrid again hesitated.

"Remember what I told yeh?" he asked, skin quickly losing its green tints. "About yer fame," he added. "Well, I reckon some folks're likely ter mob yeh when yeh get inside."

Of course, Hagrid was quite correct.

Everything started out quietly enough. The girl and the giant entered the establishment, greeting the owner.

The bald man grinned and showed them his toothless mouth. "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom. I'm on Hogwarts business," her escort answered smoothly. He placed an enormous hand on Harriet's shoulder.

"Great Maker," Tom whispered as he peered at her. "Is this… can this be… bless my soul, Harriet Potter!" he exclaimed suddenly, causing several people to glance up from their drinks.

Dozens of eyes went instantly to the now very excited owner. Upon noticing the dark-haired girl with a lightning bolt scar, the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron gaped. But immediately after recovering, they descended her en masse. After many vigorous handshakes, where one man kept coming back for more, back pats, and awed introductions, Harriet finally made headway to the rear of the Leaky Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley. But there was one more obstacle in her way, a stuttering man.

He was young looking, maybe in his late twenties, with exceptionally pasty skin. His dark eyes gleamed peculiarly under the purple turban perched atop his head. He inspected her intently, as if searching for some hidden weakness.

Apparently, he was a teacher at Hogwarts, a Professor Quirrell.

Harriet faked a smile as he introduced himself. There was a feeling of wickedness deep under the surface, faint and almost unperceivable but still present. She ghosted his thoughts, only receiving the image of a blank wall for her efforts and the pervading sense of malevolence.

Harriet fought the urge to shudder.

Sure, he stuttered and simpered, but to Harriet, it all seemed a facade. An act. There was some strange and lingering feeling of cruelty, a deep hatred that did belong with the simpering man on the outside.

Hagrid exchanged pleasantries with the professor for a moment before leading Harriet to the back of the pub and a blank, brick wall. He happily lifted his umbrella and tapped a pattern onto the wall, which she committed to memory. The final brick disappeared, all but vanishing into thin air. The others magically began to pull away from the spot, forming an entranceway large enough for even Hagrid to easily pass through.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," he stated with his widest grin yet.

Hagrid noted Harriet's look of pure awe, try as she might to conceal it. He patted her on the back as he led her through the gateway. Yet, even as she stepped through the doorway and into Diagon Alley, Harriet could feel eyes boring into her back.

The perilous feeling from earlier remained.

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