Maeglin Yedi and the Order of the Serpent

Chapter 4: Adventures in the Alley


I´m wrapped up in a bizarre dream, featuring Voldemort, strawberries, a headstone, and a clipper thingie, and I´m enjoying it far more than I probably should, when something tries to wake me up. Automatically, I reach over to my right, and slam my hand down on my alarm clock before pulling the covers over my head to get a couple more minutes of much needed sleep.

But something is terribly off. My alarm clock usually never curses.

Reality catches up with me, and I peek over the edge of the covers, to see Macnair sitting on the side of my bed, rubbing his nose.

\"You bloody hit me.\"

\"Um...sorry?\" I rub my hands over my face, and smack my lips. \"I thought you were my alarm clock.\"

Macnair gives me a brief glare while he pinches the bridge of his nose, but then relaxes, leaning back on one hand and smiling at my sleepy appearance.

I´m sensing this definite buddy-vibe between us, because honestly, I just got away with punching him in his nose. I think that Macnair´s normal response to that would be to skin someone alive, or something along those lines. I´m a lucky girl, and I know it.

\"Get up, you lazy cow. We´ve got some shopping to do.\"

It takes a few moments before those words make any sense to me, since I´m definitely not a morning person. Shopping. Yes, I remember something about that. Voldemort. He´d said something about shopping. But thinking about Voldemort makes me remember my dreams, and those images cause my cheeks to flush quite obviously. To save what little is left of my dignity, I decide to get up, and swing my legs over the side of the bed, only to realize that I´m butt naked, since we still have to buy my pyjamas.

Not looking at Macnair, I drag the sheet with me, and wrap it around me while I stagger towards the bathroom, trying not to trip over the ends.

But the moment I see the shower stall, I realize I need help.

\"Walden?\"

\"Yeah?\"

\"Could you tell me which one of these bottles is the shampoo?\"

Snickering, Macnair steps inside the bathroom, and starts pointing at all the vials on the soap dish. \"That´s lube. That´s lube as well. Oh, and that too.\" Finally, he picks up a vial with something pinkish in it, and hands it to me. \"That´s shampoo.\"

I eye the other vials suspiciously. \"That´s an awful lot of lube.\"

Macnair nods. \"You can never have enough lube, trust me.\"

I decide I´ll take his word for it, and look up at him. \"Thanks. I can take it from here.\"

\"You sure?\"

\"Quite.\"

Still grinning, Macnair leaves me to my shower, and soon enough I´m enjoying the hot water and real shampoo, which smells all nice and fresh like spring roses. After my hair is all clean again, I dry off with a fluffy towel – which makes me wonder if Voldemort orders his servants to use fabric softener when they do the laundry – and brush the appropriate parts of my body.

When I step inside the bedroom again, Macnair discreetly turns his back to me, so I manage to get dressed quickly and without blushing too much. As I finish lacing up my boots, Macnair steps up to the fireplace and gestures me over.

\"Aren´t we going for breakfast first?\" I ask, joining him in front of the fire. I´m the kind of person who needs food in the morning. If I don´t have food, my blood sugar level will drop like a ton of bricks and I´ll likely pass out. Not something I want to be doing on a relaxed shopping trip with Voldemort´s favorite executioner.

\"We´ll get something to eat at the Cauldron,\" Macnair says, and grabs a handful of powder – floo powder, I realize – from a jar on the mantel.

\"We´re going by floo?\" I ask a bit startled, because the idea of stepping into flames is all easy and fun on paper, but when staring in said flames, it´s suddenly a lot more intimidating.

\"Course we are. Unless you can apparate?\" Macnair gives me a cheeky grin, and I briefly stick my tongue out at him. Don´t try to be funny around me in the morning before I´ve had breakfast and a smoke, because it just won´t work.

\"Just hold on tight.\" Macnair grabs my hand, and throws the powder into the fire, shouting: \"The Leaky Cauldron.\"

And then I´m tumbling, and I suddenly understand why we´re not having breakfast before flooing because my stomach is now doing a cheerful dance with the rest of my internal organs. I hold on to Macnair´s hand for dear life, and squeeze my eyes shut, because even though I love roller coasters and other Muggle things that go hard and fast, this isn´t in the least bit amusing.

Something spits us out like a piece of moldy cheese, and only Macnair´s strong arm around my waist prevents me from landing on my butt. There´s soot everywhere; in my mouth, my nose, my eyes, and I wonder why in the hell I even bothered with a shower earlier. Macnair dusts me off with the calloused palm of his hand, and I sputter and wheeze and vow never to travel by floo again, even though I know I´ll have to use to get back to the Mansion later.

I have lost my appetite, but Macnair herds me towards an empty table in the corner anyway, and by the time I sit down on one of the very hard and uncomfortable chairs, I realize where I am.

The Leaky Cauldron.

Which would be utterly cool if it didn´t look like such a dump.

Macnair orders breakfast, and I take that moment to ignore the waitress´ suspicious glances and look around. There´s lots of people around us, and I make a very important discovery.

There´s something Voldemort and his followers have that the rest of the Wizarding world seems to be lacking. A sense of fashion.

I mean, there´s a bunch of Witches seated in the other corner who make you wonder if they´re having Hansel and Gretel for breakfast.

The waitress returns with a steaming pot of tea and two plates filled with a hearty English breakfast, and my appetite decides to return when I smell all that delicious food.

\"So, how was your date?\" Macnair asks, after swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

\"It wasn´t a date,\" I counter quickly. \"It was just dinner.\"

Macnair rolls his eyes. \"Fine. How was dinner?\"

\"Oh, it was nice, I suppose. The food was good, and the conversation was interesting, and I touched his wand-\"

Macnair looks at me as if I´ve just confessed that I´m Harry Potter in disguise.

\"What?\" I ask, confused, and poke at a strip of bacon on my plate.

\"You touched his wand?\" Macnair has put his knife and fork down, and is giving me a very odd look.

\"Um...yeah...I asked if I could touch it, and he let me.\"

\"You asked him? And he let you?\"

\"Yes! I really don´t see what the big deal is here.\"

\"Bloody hell, woman!\" Macnair yells, and then lowers his voice while he leans over the table, his eyes fixed on mine. \"Asking if you can touch a Wizard´s wand, that´s like...proposing to him.\"

Oh boy. I suddenly do see the big deal, and I drop my fork, eggs falling off my plate into my lap.

\"And he let you!\" Macnair continues in a hushed voice. \"Merlin! He never lets anyone near his wand. I can´t bloody believe it!\"

Well. Neither can I, and I just stare at Macnair, very unsure of what to say now that I´ve learned that I´ve proposed to Lord Voldemort. And that he has accepted. Sort of.

You know, JKR could have bloody well mentioned that in the books, dammit!

Letting out a deep, shaky breath, Macnair leans back in his chair. \"So...but...you know...you´re a Muggle. It might not mean the same thing in this case.\"

\"Yeah,\" I agree with a trembling voice, and I stare down at my food miserably. It seems that my appetite has abandoned me once again.

Silence.

More very uncomfortable silence.

\"So, you still working for the Ministry?\"

Macnair seems to understand and appreciate my attempt at changing the subject, and he continues with his breakfast, giving me a wide grin. \"Yeah, I like my job, and it gives me a chance to keep an eye on what´s going on there.\"

Then I realize something, and I give Macnair a suspicious look while I whisper: \"Aren´t you supposed to be in Azkaban?\"

Looking up at me, Macnair puts his fork down, and gives me a blank stare, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch up ever so slightly.

\"Oh, come on, Walden. I know you were there.\"

\"Bloody right I was there. That sodding brat nearly poked my eye out,\" Macnair whispers, leaning forward a bit to keep the conversation as private as possible.

\"Well,...\" I start, but decide not to voice my current thought.

Somehow I think that ´that serves you right´ isn´t going to improve our friendship, and I´d rather not have Macnair as my enemy.

\"..how did you stay out of Azkaban then?\"

\"I work at the Ministry. Came up with an alibi.\" Macnair shrugs, and adds four lumps of sugar to his tea. \"Besides, Lucius´ lawyers got everyone out of Azkaban anyway.\"

Why am I not surprised? I think anyone could have seen that one coming after the ending of OotP.

I nod, and we go back to our breakfast, and I force myself to eat something while I try not to think about wands and Voldemort and what exactly to expect when we get back to the mansion later. Because it´s disturbing. But not for the reasons one would expect, because what´s truly disturbing about it, is that the idea of Voldemort doesn´t seem that disturbing at all.

\"So, where do we go now?\" I ask, when we get up and Macnair leads me to the back door.

\"We´re going to get you a couple of decent robes.\" Macnair taps his wand against the brick wall a few times, and I watch in amazement as the wall folds itself open, and Diagon Alley appears.

The place is crowded, and I quickly hook arms with Macnair. Strange as it may seem, it makes me feel safe, since I know Macnair, but I don´t know any of these other weird looking Wizards and Witches, and I do stand out in my buttonless cloak and Muggle jeans and sweater with Winnie the Pooh print.

Macnair leads me through the rather narrow alley and I can´t help but gape around at all the shops and people. It looks interesting, but also surreal, and it has a definite medieval quality to it all. Soon enough, wop iop in front of Madam Malkin´s Robes for All Occasions, and Macnair pushes the door open, and we step inside a store filled from top to bottom with clothes.

A squat Witch, smiling brightly, approaches us, and after giving Macnair a brief suspicious glance, she asks: \"How may I help you on this fine morning?\"

\"This lady here needs a wardrobe,\" Macnair states rather disinterestedly. \"Best quality fabrics only.\"

Madam Malkin leads me to the center of the store, and Macnair follows us, whispering into my ear: \"Our Lordship is paying. Might as well get the good stuff, eh?\"

I couldn´t agree with him more, and while I normally hate shopping for clothes, right now I can´t wait to empty out Voldemort´s vault.

Circling me, Madam Malkin eyes me critically, and a magical tape-measure swirls around me, tickling me in places I really don´t want to be tickled in public.

\"Ah yes...could be a tad more rounded in front and a bit less firm around the hips, but I´m sure we can find her a lovely wardrobe.\"

I really don´t like Madam Malkin.

Macnair chuckles behind me, and I turn to give him my death-glare, which doesn´t have much of an effect on him, but really, what can you expect from someone who kills dangerous creatures for a living. I´m sure that to him, my death-glare must resemble the happy-face of a flobberworm.

Before I know what is happening, Madam Malkin summons every possible type of robe, meanwhile saying things like: ´Perfect for every day, our finest silk for special occasions, pure wool that will keep you warm on a winter´s day.´

Soon enough a pile of robes lies waiting for me on the counter, and I look up at Macnair, but he leans towards Madam Malkin.

\"Give her a standard Death Eater robe as well.\"

Oddly enough, Madam Malkin doesn´t find this order strange at all, and summons a thick, black robe to add to my pile. Oh well, I guess Death Eaters have to buy their clothes somewhere, and it turns out they get them at Madam Malkin´s Robes for All Occasions. It makes sense. In a rather disturbed way.

I want to make my way to the counter, but Macnair grabs my arm.

\"Won´t you be needing knickers and the likes?\"

\"They´re in the back!\" Madam Malkin chimes before I can even answer, but since I figure that I need them anyway, I grab Macnair´s arm and drag him with me to the potentially embarrassing section of the store.

While I go through the collection of comfy, cotton underwear, Macnair has found the more daring garments, and seems to be enjoying himself immensely, going through all the lace and satin. I try to ignore his small sounds of appreciation, and select a number of sporty yet comfy undies.

\"Oooh, look at this,\" I screech when I see the most adorable nightgown I´ve ever seen. \"Isn´t that just the cutest thing?\" I hold up a baby-blue flannel nightgown that has all these tiny red dragons parading around on the soft fabric and give Macnair a bright smile.

Macnair wrinkles his nose. \"That won´t get him hard and throbbing.\"

Before I can even ask what the hell Macnair is talking about, he holds up this...well...corset-like thing made out of black lace, but not that much of it, since there doesn´t seem to be much fabric used for it at all.

\"Now, you wear this, and I bet he won´t be able to get it down for a couple of weeks at least.\"

I blink, and clutch the flannel nightgown against my chest. I´m not wearing *that*, no matter who might get it up if I would.

\"Oh, Mr Macnair,\" Madam Malkin says, and Macnair hides the lacy corset thing behind his back while he turns to face the Witch.

\"I´ve finally got those satin stockings you wanted in your size.\"

I can see Macnair lower his hand and reach for the ax I know is hidden beneath his cloak, but he seems to change his mind at the last minute, and instead gives Madam Malkin a death-glare that is definitely impressive and makes me take a step back even if it´s not directed at me.

Madam Malkin blanches, smiles nervously, and hurries back to the front of the store.

Turning towards me, Macnair gives me a very intense look. \"Not one word.\"

\"My lips are sealed,\" I say, trying to give him a reassuring smile while not bursting out in childish giggles. \"But I´m getting this gown.\"

\"Fine,\" Macnair mutters, and we make our way to the counter, where Madam Malkin shrinks all my purchases into little packages I can tuck into the pockets of my cloak, and Macnair pays for all of it with a sizable amount of golden coins.

Holding the door open for us, Madam Malkin waves us goodbye cheerfully, and I again hook arms with Macnair. Just when I want to ask him what we´re supposed to do now, I see a very interesting sign from the corner of my eye.

Flourish and Blotts.

Which means...books.

\"Oooh, let´s go there.\" I drag Macnair with me, and step inside a wonderful store that smells of old parchment and ink, and has more books than I´ve ever seen. I spend what feels like hours browsing the shelves, skimming through all these interesting books with all these really neat moving pictures. Macnair seems to be enjoying himself as well in the Dark Creatures section, and occasionally we point things out to each other and laugh (mostly Macnair) or shudder (mostly me).

I even manage to convince Macnair to pay for the pile of books I´ve selected, and when my pockets are a bit fuller with a few new shrunk packages, we set out to the next store. And thus we spend our day wandering through all the stores in Diagon Alley, and I gape at all the odd potion ingredients, admire racing brooms, enjoy a strawberry sundae at Fortescue´s and steal Macnair´s cherry, pet all sorts of owls, and even ask Mr Ollivander if he doesn´t have a wand for a Muggle, but all Ollivander does is shake his head sadly and after I´ve asked him all about wandmaking, he sees us to the door and wishes us a good day.

Our next stop is of course Knockturn Alley, and I feel bouncy and giddy, but stay close to Macnair anyway. Again we take our time to wander in and out of stores, and I try not to wet my knickers at the sight of those monstrous spiders, but besides those creatures, Knockturn Alley is a pretty cool place, and Macnair tells me lots of interesting stories about all those odd shops and weird people around us.

By the time we´ve seen every last store, the sun is already starting to set, and we stroll back into the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. I´m hungry and tired, and my feet ache, but I also feel very content, and I gratefully lean against Macnair when he wraps an arm around my shoulders and guides me through the crowd.

When we´ve almost reached the brick wall that will lead us to the Leaky Cauldron, I spot a store we haven´t visited yet. The Magical Menagerie. In my enthusiasm, I let go of Macnair, and dart towards the shop, hoping that perhaps I can pick out a cool pet of sorts.

But suddenly, I feel an arm around my waist, and someone drags me away.

\"Walde-\"

A strong hand clasps across my mouth, and I see Macnair grab both his ax and his wand and run towards me, but before he reaches me and my unknown attacker, I feel like I´m dissolving into a billion pieces and the world twirls in front of my eyes.

And the next thing I know, I´m not in Diagon Alley anymore, but my assailant pulls me with him. I struggle against his hold, even manage to bite the hand that is still clasped over my mouth, but it is futile, because he doesn´t let me go, and drags me inside a door.

Finally, he lets go of me, and I hardly notice my surroundings, but spin around, yelling: \"Who the fuck are you and what do you want from me?!\"

I´m staring at this very broad chest, and when I look up, I see a pair of warm, dark eyes looking down at me, and I instantly recognize him. Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Still feeling rather confused, I want to give him a smile, and ask him in a more polite tone of voice where I am and why he kidnapped me, but before I can do either of those things, something starts screaming, scaring me out of my wits.

\"Blood traitors! Bringing filthy Muggles inside the house of my fathers! Scum! How dare you befoul this place, you mutants!\"

Deciding that Kingsley is less of a threat than whatever is yelling at me, I hide behind his back, and while I try to catch my breath, I hear someone storm inside the hallway, muttering softly under his breath. I dare to peek around Kingsley´s broad shoulders, and see a rather shabby dressed man with graying light-brown hair yank the curtains in front of a portrait shut.

And I realize where I am. Twelve Grimmauld Place. And I realwho who the man is, who now turns towards us, and gives us both an apologetic smile.

Remus.

Oh my god, it´s Remus!

It´s funny that without the threat of a Killing Curse you can get a lot more enthusiastic about meeting someone, and I can´t decide whether I want to ask for his autograph, give him a big hug, or suggest we find a private spot and shag like bunnies. Instead I just smile shyly and wave at him, trying not to slip into a full ´twelve-year-old at Boyzone concert´ mode.

\"Hello, Kingsley,\" Remus says, and yes, his voice is soft and rather hoarse, and it gives me instant goosebumps. \"I see you brought a guest.\"

Kingsley looks from me to Remus, and nods. \"Yes. Albus got word about her, and decided-\"

\"Who in the bloody hell woke my mother up again?\"

I snap my gaze towards the man who has joined us, and I gasp, suddenly feeling light-headed and impossibly hot and cold at the same time.

Because it can´t be.

But it is.

\"Holy fuck. Sirius,\" I whisper, and feel my legs tremble and my hands shake.

Sirius gives me a curious look and a small smile, and he looks incredible; long black hair and bright blue eyes and so very, very much alive, and I know I should have eaten more for breakfast because I feel my blood pressure drop and my stomach doing flip flops and my ears start to ring and my sight gets blurry and I feel myself sag to the floor just before the world around me turns black.