It’s a lot later when Pigwidgeon, Uncle Ron’s owl, flies into the kitchen in the middle of supper. Mummy and I are eating, though rather quietly. There is something on Mummy’s mind, but I decide that if I don’t say anything, maybe she will tell me on her own. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, too, on how I could possibly find my father. I haven’t gotten any good ideas.
Mummy looks over at the owl and takes the letter from its sharp beak. It flies off.
“I guess Ron’s not expecting an answer,” Mummy mumbles to herself as she peels open the letter. There is complete silence as she reads through it, me sitting on the edge of my chair in anxiety. Finally she gasps slightly, “I completely forgot.”
“Forgot what, Mummy?”
She just smiles at me lightly, “It’s Harry’s birthday soon. They’re throwing him a surprise party at Ron’s house. Though I suppose he’ll know about it, it’s the sixth one they’ve thrown for him.”
“Do I get to come?” I ask. I know I’m lucky to be so close to Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, who defeated Lord Voldemort. A lot of people we see in stores ask Mummy how Harry is, and if everything is alright with him. I know it’s an honour that we’re invited to his birthday party, and that Mummy’s brother and sister-in-law are his very, very, very bestest friends.
“Yes, you get to come. Go try on your dress robes – we might need to buy you new ones. We’ll need to go to Diagon Alley anyhow to buy Harry a present.”
Sure enough my dress robes are too small so the next day Mummy and I are going to Diagon Alley. We go straight to “Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.” Mummy and Madam Malkin dress me in a pair of olive green dress robes, and as Madam Malkin fits the dress on me, Mummy is talking with her.
“If you could make them a little loose, because Rose is growing like there’s no tomorrow,” Mummy says.
“Perfectly capable of doing that, Miss Weasley,” says Madam Malkin, loosening a section of the robes, “So what’s the occasion?”
“A surprise party,” Mummy tells her.
“Harry’s again?”
“Yes.”
“Do they honestly think that for the sixth year in a row he won’t have some clue?” asks Madam Malkin with a light chuckle, “You’re family is certainly one of a kind.”
“I think he pretended to be surprised last year.”
“Ginny, I think he pretended to be surprised the second time they did and ever since then,” says the woman with a small chuckle. “Well, if it makes them happy.”
“They just want him to see how important he is to them, and how much they care about him,” Mummy defends, but she laughs lightly, too.
“Speaking of caring for people,” says Madam Malkin, eyeing Mummy suggestively, “How is your situation with him?”
I furrow my brows, turning my head to Mummy, “What situation?” I ask.
“Hush, Rose,” Mummy says.
“Oh, you should feel lucky that he fancies you, Miss Weasley. Every woman who knows about You-Know-Who would love to be in your shoes.”
Fancies her? Personally, I don't like boys. They're gross. But Mommy does deserve the bestest boy around, doesn't she? And who better than the Chosen One himself?
“You shouldn’t be afraid of calling him Voldemort, Madam Malkin,” says Mummy, adverting her glance to play with a fabric nearby.
But Madam Malkin just grins slightly, “Old habits die hard.”
There’s a look in Mummy’s eye that makes me think she doesn’t really care what Madam Malkin calls Voldemort. I think she’s still stuck on the whole Harry fancying her thing. Of course, I’d be surprised, too, if someone told me the hero of the Wizarding World fancied me. But I don’t think that’s what’s bothering her. In fact, I thing she already knows he fancies her.
After a little while, Mummy pays for the robes and is carrying a box with them outside the store. We are going to go find a present for Harry now. Mummy has no idea what to get him, so she says that we’re going to go to as many stores as we can to find the perfect gift. Our first stop is Flourish and Blott’s.
As we walk in, we’re greeted by an old school friend of Mummy’s, who insists on talking to her for what feels like an hour. She, too, brings up the topic of Harry.
“His birthday is soon,” she says.
“I know. Rose and I are looking for a gift.”
“Oh,” she looks down at me. “And who is the girl’s father, again? Can’t be a very decent man, leaving you and a baby all alone.” I quickly look away, down at the ground.
“He was a very decent man,” Mummy defends, taking my hand. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“Very well, goodbye.”
Mummy mutters something about “rude people, sticking their noses into my business” as we go to wander around.
“Mummy, I’m going to go look at books over there,” I say, pointing to a colourful display by the window.
She nods, not looking at me, and I hurry over to the display. I don’t even register what book it is, because I see a sign in the distance that, quite frankly, is more exciting than any book.
“Knockturn Alley.”
Now, I’ve been very, very good about not butting into Mummy’s business. I haven’t asked anything about Daddy, or the box, and even though I’m still confused and I want to do what I’m told, I can’t help but wonder if my answers lay somewhere down there. So when I’m sure Mummy’s looking away, I sneak out the door, put my hood over my head to shield my hair and face, and slink down to Knockturn Alley.
It’s quite a dodgy place. I don’t like it one bit. And there are a whole bunch of stores, and I don’t know which one Mummy went to that time Luna watched over me. I look around, and decide that one store – the sign said “Borgin and Burke’s” – was the biggest. I take a chance and guess that she went here, and I open the door.
The store is pretty much empty except for a lot of weird looking stuff that I’m certain Mummy wouldn’t want me playing with. I walk over to the desk, and poke my head up over the top to see if anything is there. Nothing. I call out, “Excuse me? Anyone here?”
An old, rugged looking man stumbles out, glancing curiously at me. I pull my hood tighter around my head. He is scary, with a wrinkled, scarred face and a balding head. Suddenly I realise... what exactly am I going to ask him? I come into this place right out of my scary books and don't even know what to say.
“Can I help you, lil’ missy?”
“Er, I was just wondering… um, did Ginevra Weasley come in here at all?”
He narrows his eyes at me, examining me closer. “And how old’re you?”
“I’m – uh, twenty-four.”
He snorts. “Hah, right. Yeah, s’matter of fact, she did. A while back. What’s it to you?”
“I – uh – what did she come for?”
“You’re her daughter, right? Whatserface… Rose.” He chuckles. “Rose, right?”
“How did you know?”
“There’s a lot of stuff I know about you. I know things about you that you don't even know.” What’s that supposed to mean? I frown. He smiles fondly. “Your father’s a good man.”
“You knew my father?”
“I know your father, Rose. Yeh know he’s alive.” Pause. “Yeh’ve got his eyes.”
“Mister, who are you?”
“S’nothing to you, lil’ missy. Now, why’re you down here?”
“I told you, I want to know why my mother was here,” I say impatiently. I know Mummy wouldn’t want me to swear, but I want to call him stupid. Cause he is!! And scary.... well, at least he’s not mean. That mean.
“Why are you nosing into your mother’s business?” he asks with a raise of his bushy, grey eyebrow.
“I – I want to know. She doesn’t tell me anything.”
“I admire that. Yeh’ve got a fair deal of perseverance. You know what that is?” I shake my head. “How old are you again?”
“Seven.”
“Alright, I’ll let you in on a few secrets. But dontchya go wandering around the likes of here again, do yah hear?” I nod, and he motions me to come closer. “Your mother is trailing your father. He don’t know, so if you find him first, you should warn him. Your mother’s a clever lady.”
“Warn him?”
“Just so’s he knows it’s coming.”
“Why will I find him first?”
“You’re also pretty clever,” he says with a grin, “I kin tell. Trust me, by the time yeh find him he’ll know yer looking for him.” His voice becomes quieter. “And I know cause I’ll give yeh a few hints as to his wherabouts, that yer Mamma don’t know, but you got to promise to keep it a secret.” I nod eagerly. “Alrighty. First off, he’s closer than yeh’d think. Second, his old girlfriend. Third, Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog Card.”
I ponder these three clues for a second, and am left totally baffled. I look up quizzically at him.
“Don’t give me that look. Figure it out yourself.” He seems to be enjoying my confusion.
“Well, thanks, Mister. I guess.” I turn to walk away. But something is bothering me. I turn around. “Mister?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you tell me that?”
“I want your father out of hiding almost as much as you do,” he says with a smile, which turns into a laugh. Slight scared, I hurry out of the store and run back the way I came, the Mister’s amused laughter ringing in my ears.
Mummy looks over at the owl and takes the letter from its sharp beak. It flies off.
“I guess Ron’s not expecting an answer,” Mummy mumbles to herself as she peels open the letter. There is complete silence as she reads through it, me sitting on the edge of my chair in anxiety. Finally she gasps slightly, “I completely forgot.”
“Forgot what, Mummy?”
She just smiles at me lightly, “It’s Harry’s birthday soon. They’re throwing him a surprise party at Ron’s house. Though I suppose he’ll know about it, it’s the sixth one they’ve thrown for him.”
“Do I get to come?” I ask. I know I’m lucky to be so close to Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, who defeated Lord Voldemort. A lot of people we see in stores ask Mummy how Harry is, and if everything is alright with him. I know it’s an honour that we’re invited to his birthday party, and that Mummy’s brother and sister-in-law are his very, very, very bestest friends.
“Yes, you get to come. Go try on your dress robes – we might need to buy you new ones. We’ll need to go to Diagon Alley anyhow to buy Harry a present.”
Sure enough my dress robes are too small so the next day Mummy and I are going to Diagon Alley. We go straight to “Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.” Mummy and Madam Malkin dress me in a pair of olive green dress robes, and as Madam Malkin fits the dress on me, Mummy is talking with her.
“If you could make them a little loose, because Rose is growing like there’s no tomorrow,” Mummy says.
“Perfectly capable of doing that, Miss Weasley,” says Madam Malkin, loosening a section of the robes, “So what’s the occasion?”
“A surprise party,” Mummy tells her.
“Harry’s again?”
“Yes.”
“Do they honestly think that for the sixth year in a row he won’t have some clue?” asks Madam Malkin with a light chuckle, “You’re family is certainly one of a kind.”
“I think he pretended to be surprised last year.”
“Ginny, I think he pretended to be surprised the second time they did and ever since then,” says the woman with a small chuckle. “Well, if it makes them happy.”
“They just want him to see how important he is to them, and how much they care about him,” Mummy defends, but she laughs lightly, too.
“Speaking of caring for people,” says Madam Malkin, eyeing Mummy suggestively, “How is your situation with him?”
I furrow my brows, turning my head to Mummy, “What situation?” I ask.
“Hush, Rose,” Mummy says.
“Oh, you should feel lucky that he fancies you, Miss Weasley. Every woman who knows about You-Know-Who would love to be in your shoes.”
Fancies her? Personally, I don't like boys. They're gross. But Mommy does deserve the bestest boy around, doesn't she? And who better than the Chosen One himself?
“You shouldn’t be afraid of calling him Voldemort, Madam Malkin,” says Mummy, adverting her glance to play with a fabric nearby.
But Madam Malkin just grins slightly, “Old habits die hard.”
There’s a look in Mummy’s eye that makes me think she doesn’t really care what Madam Malkin calls Voldemort. I think she’s still stuck on the whole Harry fancying her thing. Of course, I’d be surprised, too, if someone told me the hero of the Wizarding World fancied me. But I don’t think that’s what’s bothering her. In fact, I thing she already knows he fancies her.
After a little while, Mummy pays for the robes and is carrying a box with them outside the store. We are going to go find a present for Harry now. Mummy has no idea what to get him, so she says that we’re going to go to as many stores as we can to find the perfect gift. Our first stop is Flourish and Blott’s.
As we walk in, we’re greeted by an old school friend of Mummy’s, who insists on talking to her for what feels like an hour. She, too, brings up the topic of Harry.
“His birthday is soon,” she says.
“I know. Rose and I are looking for a gift.”
“Oh,” she looks down at me. “And who is the girl’s father, again? Can’t be a very decent man, leaving you and a baby all alone.” I quickly look away, down at the ground.
“He was a very decent man,” Mummy defends, taking my hand. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“Very well, goodbye.”
Mummy mutters something about “rude people, sticking their noses into my business” as we go to wander around.
“Mummy, I’m going to go look at books over there,” I say, pointing to a colourful display by the window.
She nods, not looking at me, and I hurry over to the display. I don’t even register what book it is, because I see a sign in the distance that, quite frankly, is more exciting than any book.
“Knockturn Alley.”
Now, I’ve been very, very good about not butting into Mummy’s business. I haven’t asked anything about Daddy, or the box, and even though I’m still confused and I want to do what I’m told, I can’t help but wonder if my answers lay somewhere down there. So when I’m sure Mummy’s looking away, I sneak out the door, put my hood over my head to shield my hair and face, and slink down to Knockturn Alley.
It’s quite a dodgy place. I don’t like it one bit. And there are a whole bunch of stores, and I don’t know which one Mummy went to that time Luna watched over me. I look around, and decide that one store – the sign said “Borgin and Burke’s” – was the biggest. I take a chance and guess that she went here, and I open the door.
The store is pretty much empty except for a lot of weird looking stuff that I’m certain Mummy wouldn’t want me playing with. I walk over to the desk, and poke my head up over the top to see if anything is there. Nothing. I call out, “Excuse me? Anyone here?”
An old, rugged looking man stumbles out, glancing curiously at me. I pull my hood tighter around my head. He is scary, with a wrinkled, scarred face and a balding head. Suddenly I realise... what exactly am I going to ask him? I come into this place right out of my scary books and don't even know what to say.
“Can I help you, lil’ missy?”
“Er, I was just wondering… um, did Ginevra Weasley come in here at all?”
He narrows his eyes at me, examining me closer. “And how old’re you?”
“I’m – uh, twenty-four.”
He snorts. “Hah, right. Yeah, s’matter of fact, she did. A while back. What’s it to you?”
“I – uh – what did she come for?”
“You’re her daughter, right? Whatserface… Rose.” He chuckles. “Rose, right?”
“How did you know?”
“There’s a lot of stuff I know about you. I know things about you that you don't even know.” What’s that supposed to mean? I frown. He smiles fondly. “Your father’s a good man.”
“You knew my father?”
“I know your father, Rose. Yeh know he’s alive.” Pause. “Yeh’ve got his eyes.”
“Mister, who are you?”
“S’nothing to you, lil’ missy. Now, why’re you down here?”
“I told you, I want to know why my mother was here,” I say impatiently. I know Mummy wouldn’t want me to swear, but I want to call him stupid. Cause he is!! And scary.... well, at least he’s not mean. That mean.
“Why are you nosing into your mother’s business?” he asks with a raise of his bushy, grey eyebrow.
“I – I want to know. She doesn’t tell me anything.”
“I admire that. Yeh’ve got a fair deal of perseverance. You know what that is?” I shake my head. “How old are you again?”
“Seven.”
“Alright, I’ll let you in on a few secrets. But dontchya go wandering around the likes of here again, do yah hear?” I nod, and he motions me to come closer. “Your mother is trailing your father. He don’t know, so if you find him first, you should warn him. Your mother’s a clever lady.”
“Warn him?”
“Just so’s he knows it’s coming.”
“Why will I find him first?”
“You’re also pretty clever,” he says with a grin, “I kin tell. Trust me, by the time yeh find him he’ll know yer looking for him.” His voice becomes quieter. “And I know cause I’ll give yeh a few hints as to his wherabouts, that yer Mamma don’t know, but you got to promise to keep it a secret.” I nod eagerly. “Alrighty. First off, he’s closer than yeh’d think. Second, his old girlfriend. Third, Albus Dumbledore Chocolate Frog Card.”
I ponder these three clues for a second, and am left totally baffled. I look up quizzically at him.
“Don’t give me that look. Figure it out yourself.” He seems to be enjoying my confusion.
“Well, thanks, Mister. I guess.” I turn to walk away. But something is bothering me. I turn around. “Mister?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you tell me that?”
“I want your father out of hiding almost as much as you do,” he says with a smile, which turns into a laugh. Slight scared, I hurry out of the store and run back the way I came, the Mister’s amused laughter ringing in my ears.
Leave a Review