In the end, despite all her worries and Harry's recent collapse, Mrs. Weasley brought Harry and the others to Diagon Alley anyway.
It was Remus who had ultimately suggested it. He felt it was important to gauge how the general wizarding public was truly reacting in the wake of the Ministry's explosive announcement of Voldemort's return.
As the commercial heart of the wizarding world, Diagon Alley would offer the most direct measure of just how profoundly things had changed in the span of a single morning.
"No one wanders off under any circumstances. You all stay close to me at all times."
After sending a hastily written letter to Bryan at Harry's urgent request, Remus turned a stern, uncompromising gaze on the children.
"I suspect that Diagon Alley won't be quite as lively and carefree as you remember from previous visits. Things have changed. The mood will be different."
"Relax, Remus—"
Fred, one half of the mischievous Weasley twins, grinned and waved a dismissive hand through the air with nonchalance. "We promise to behave ourselves like perfect little angels. Scout's honor."
"Like the well-trained, disciplined workers in your workshop!" George added with matching enthusiasm.
Remus shook his head with a weary sigh. Then he looked over at the more serious trio: Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry had witnessed Voldemort's fury firsthand in that terrible vision, and any fragile optimism he might have been clinging to had long since crumbled to ash. When Remus's concerned, searching gaze fell on him specifically, Harry could only shake his head slowly.
"Let's go, then," Mrs. Weasley said with forced brightness, trying to inject some normalcy into the tense atmosphere. She gave Ginny a gentle insistent push toward the large fireplace. "We'll all meet up at the Leaky Cauldron first."
A flash of bright emerald flame erupted in the hearth and Ginny was gone in an instant.
Fred and George followed in quick sequence, disappearing one after the other with ease. Ron stepped into the flames next under his mother's gentle urging.
"Your turn, Harry—"
Hermione rested a steadying hand on his shoulder, and he could feel the slight tremor in her fingers. Her brown eyes were clouded with deep worry.
He knew she'd guessed that he'd seen Voldemort again in another vision. Harry managed a thin, unconvincing smile for her benefit, trying to project a confidence he absolutely didn't feel, then stepped forward into the swirling green fire and let it swallow him whole.
The sensation was familiar by now but never quite comfortable. Warm flames licked playfully at his back and sides, nudging him gently forward, pushing him toward his destination with invisible hands.
He stumbled out of the hearth at the Leaky Cauldron a moment later, his momentum carried him forward several awkward steps. He collided with unexpected force into the backs of the Weasley children, who were standing motionless in front of the fireplace like a human wall, completely blocking the way forward.
"Why are you all just standing there like statues?"
Harry's question came out sharper than he'd intended, tinged with irritation and confusion.
He glanced back over his shoulder as Hermione and Remus stepped gracefully out of the flames behind him, brushing ash from their clothes—then he followed the Weasleys' frozen stares and looked ahead.
One look, and Harry felt his entire expression go rigid.
The dingy but boisterous pub he remembered was completely gone.
In its place stood an empty hall: Every single table and chair had been stacked into a towering heap in the southeast corner, pressed all the way up to the low ceiling. The shelves behind the bar, which had always been cluttered with grimy bottles of dubious vintage, sticky glasses, and various odds and ends—they had been stripped completely bare. Not a single glass remained.
Old Tom, the hunchbacked eternally cheerful proprietor they all knew so well who had always bustled about with a humble smile and an almost desperate eagerness to please—he was nowhere to be seen either.
The back door that led through the courtyard to Diagon Alley had been boarded shut with rough planks. The windows were similarly sealed. Only thin, pale shafts of grey daylight managed to seep through the gaps between the uneven planks, falling in dusty columns across a floor that looked as though it had been swept clean for the first time in years.
Creak—Creak—
Harry's footsteps groaned against the rotting floorboards as he moved forward while his bewildered gaze swept the room.
"The Leaky Cauldron..." he breathed, barely able to process what he was seeing.
"Oi, everyone—have a look at this!"
George's voice cut through the stunned silence. He had already made his way to the bar. He snatched something off the dusty counter and held it up triumphantly for the others to see.
Harry squinted through the dimness. George was brandishing a worm-eaten plank, its surface riddled with tiny pits and holes on which someone had scrawled in crude, crooked letters:
TEMPORARILY CLOSED
"Closed?"
Mrs. Weasley's face fell.
"The Leaky Cauldron... even last time, it never shut its doors."
"I'll wager it's been less than ten minutes since he wrote this and left," Hermione said, pressing her lips together in a thin line.
Ron stared at her, startled by the claim. "How can you possibly know that?"
"Look closely at the paint—the edges are still wet and glistening. The paint on that sign isn't even dry yet."
Remus had opened his mouth to speak, when a creak from the staircase behind the bar broke the silence—the sound of cautious footsteps descending from the floor above.
His expression sharpened at once, his entire body went tense and alert. He turned his gaze on the dark mouth of the stairwell, his hand moving subtly toward his wand.
"Wands out! Now!"
"Harry, we're underage—we're not allowed to use magic outside of school!" Hermione's voice came out high and shrill with panic.
"The law permits underage magic if you're under direct attack or in immediate danger, Hermione," Remus said softly, not taking his eyes off the staircase. "Minister Bones is far more reasonable and practical about that sort of thing."
Whoever was on the stairs had apparently heard them talking, heard. The footsteps stopped abruptly, the sudden silence was somehow more ominous than the creaking had been.
Both sides held their ground in tense standoff, separated by nothing but a thin wooden wall.
Thud!
Harry dropped instantly into a low crouch, his eyes were darting left and right as he assessed their tactical position. They were all clustered together in a tight group near the fireplace—not the wisest defensive position by any stretch. If the unknown person on the stairs struck first with hostile intent, a single wide-range jinx could potentially catch them all in its effect.
He shifted slightly to his right, trying to spread them out without making it obvious.
"Who's down there? Identify yourselves!"
The voice that called out from the landing made everyone's tense shoulders drop immediately with relief.
The wariness drained from Remus's face. He let out a quiet breath he'd been holding, though he kept his wand raised and ready.
"Remus Lupin. The Weasley family. Hermione Granger. And Harry Potter."
He pitched his voice to carry clearly up the stairs.
"Ah—Mr. Potter? The Harry Potter?"
At that name specifically, Tom apparently threw all remaining caution completely aside. He came thumping down the remaining stairs, his overstuffed travel bag was floating along obediently behind him.
He reached the bottom of the staircase, his watery eyes scanning the group rapidly until they found and locked onto Harry. His wrinkled face broke into a respectful smile that was tinged with relief and pleasure.
"Mr. Potter, sir—it's been far too long! And Professor Lupin! What a wonderful surprise to see you both!"
"It has been a while," Harry agreed, flicking his fingers in a gesture. His wand slid smoothly back up his sleeve, disappearing from view.
"Tom." Remus gave him a friendly nod. "We were heading to Diagon Alley for some shopping, so we came through here as we always do—"
He gestured toward the crude sign George was still holding.
"—only to find this. The pub closed and stripped bare. What's happened?"
"Ah, yes. I'm afraid the Leaky Cauldron will be resting for quite a while, Professor."
Tom's face was drawn with misery. "You'll have heard about Minister Bones and Mr. Watson's press conference this morning, I'm sure?"
"What's that got to do with you?" Ron asked, baffled.
"What's it got to do with me?" The misery on Tom's face deepened into something approaching despair. He let out a hollow laugh. "Well, young Mr. Weasley—you know the Leaky Cauldron is less than a mile from Gringotts, don't you?"
Ron's face still looked utterly blank, not making the connection.
"Come and see for yourselves," Tom said simply, his voice heavy with resignation. He turned and waved them toward the sealed back door with a gesture.
He pulled the door open with effort. They crossed through the familiar back courtyard, past the rubbish bins and empty crates, and then Tom tapped his wand against the brick wall in the specific pattern that would reveal the entrance.
The bricks began to shift and rearrange themselves, creating the archway into Diagon Alley.
Crack—
The noise and overwhelming light and movement of the world beyond crashed into Harry all at once, making him flinch back instinctively and throw up one hand to shield his eyes.
"Good God—" Ginny's breathless murmur beside him, made him force his squinting eyes open and look properly around.
BANG!
Two carts piled high with large crates and hastily packed boxes were scraping against each other, fighting desperately for space on the narrow cobblestoned street.
One balanced crate on the nearer cart tipped as the carts jostled, teetered for a moment, then fell. It slammed to the ground directly in front of them with tremendous force.
The hastily nailed lid burst completely open. Several gleaming racing broomsticks rolled out across the stones with expensive clattering sounds.
"Hiss—"
Ron sucked in a sharp breath. "Firebolts! Those are Firebolts!"
The other cart, having seized its momentary advantage while its competitor dealt with the spill, drove off down the alley without a single word of apology.
The owner of Quality Quidditch Supplies leapt down from his own cart, cursing creatively under his breath, and scrambled desperately with two stressed-looking assistants to gather up the scattered boxes and fallen broomsticks.
Up and down the entire length of Diagon Alley, similar scenes played out in every direction Harry looked.
Harry stood rooted to the spot and stared with growing horror, trying to process the scale of what he was witnessing.
Outside Flourish and Blotts—the bookshop where he'd purchased his school supplies every year, where he'd once met Gilderoy Lockhart for a book signing, a sales assistant in ink-stained robes was standing in the doorway, her wand was moving in steady, mechanical waves.
She was sending book after book flying off the shelves inside and into wooden crates being loaded precisely onto a waiting cart.
Across the way, the staff at Eeylops Owl Emporium had already completely emptied their shop of every last owl and cage. They were in the process of hanging a large TEMPORARILY CLOSED sign above the door.
Nearly half the shops on Diagon Alley were already dark and shuttered. The rest were in states of frantic, desperate motion.
"Remus! And all of you!"
Through the noise of shouting voices, creaking cart wheels, and general commotion, Harry caught a familiar voice calling out.
"Oh—Percy!"
Mrs. Weasley's face lit up briefly with joy. She broke away from the group immediately and hurried through the crowd toward a lean young wizard who was overseeing a loaded cart. She pulled him into a fierce, emotional embrace.
"Hello, Mum—it's good to see you—"
Percy returned the hug briefly. Then he gently extracted himself and stepped past her to address Remus with more composure.
"Things are moving very quickly now. We've made the decision to pull out of the Diagon Alley branch of the workshop and relocate our inventory and equipment to more secure locations. I haven't had the chance to send word yet."
"It's a wise decision, Percy."
Remus gave a small, approving nod.
"Will someone please tell me what on earth is going on?!"
Ron had been staring around with mounting bewilderment and frustration, and he'd finally had enough of being confused.
Percy blinked at his younger brother, clearly genuinely surprised by the question.
"Isn't it obvious, Ron? If Professor Watson has decided to make Diagon Alley the battleground in his war against You-Know-Who's forces—"
Percy gestured at the chaos unfolding around them.
"—then naturally, everyone with any sense at all is getting out while they still can."
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