The panic on Harry Potter's face turned into terror.
"Professor..."
Harry felt his throat starting to itch.
Compared to facing both Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape at the same time, he'd rather it be a three-headed, foul-smelling troll standing in front of him. Even those stupid, clumsy bad guys looked much more adorable than these three people.
"Harry Potter—" Harry closed his eyes in despair when he saw the boy to Snape's right take two steps forward—Draco, with a pale face and hair slicked back to his scalp, staring at Harry with a weird smile, "The famous Savior actually in Knockturn Alley, are you here to buy dark magic materials?"
The boy's voice was loud, and Harry felt many eyes staring at him.
"Then—then why are you here, is it because there are too many contraband items at home, you're worried the Ministry of Magic will investigate, so you came here to sell them off?" Harry retorted unwillingly. He had just seen everything in Borgin and Burkes Shop and naturally knew why the other was in Knockturn Alley.
He finally knew where this place was.
But knowing the name didn't seem to help; perhaps it was countless miles from Diagon Alley.
Unexpectedly, Harry dared to talk back under such circumstances, causing an unnatural pink hue to appear on Draco's pale face. He wanted to say something more, but Lucius Malfoy, standing by, raised his hand to stop him.
"Dad—"
Draco protested discontentedly.
"Shut up, Draco—"
Mr. Malfoy, whose purpose Harry had revealed with a single sentence, had a somber expression. His gray eyes stared at Harry, somewhat pleased at Draco's reprimand before finally turning to the silent Snape—
"I'll take my leave—"
After Snape nodded, Mr. Malfoy pulled Draco's arm and walked towards the other side of the alley, muttering lowly, "Can't even win an argument—" "Better off raising a block of lard than you—"
"Mr. Potter—you haven't explained to me... why you're here..."
Snape's emotionless voice made the smile at Harry's mouth stiffen. The man leaned down, his sallow, thin face up close to the boy's, saying word by word, "So... did Dumbledore misjudge? So the Savior he thought you were is nothing more than a second-year student touching dark magic, just like You-Know-Who... No, you lack the ability, you'll just end up being a vile, ugly, damn Black Wizard..."
"No, I'm not..."
Harry tried to argue, his face flushed, but Snape rudely cut him off the next moment—
Anger filled the man's eyes, but for some reason, Harry always felt those emotions weren't directed solely at him.
"I thought you were still locked up by that idiotic Muggle family—honestly, letting you out was a mistake! A trouble-making little wizard like you should be away from Hogwarts, perfectly, since someone nearly broke the confidentiality during the summer—"
As Snape spoke, he pulled a piece of rag from under his robe—Harry recognized the familiar pattern on it.
How did that cloth end up in his hands?
"Maybe I can..." Seeing the confusion and fear in Harry's eyes, the curve of Snape's lips grew more pronounced.
"Harry!"
Harry had never found such a familiar call so pleasant. He turned his head in the direction of the voice—a giant almost twice as tall as everyone else and four or five times wider squeezed through the crowd, his face almost completely hidden by tangled long hair and a thick beard.
"Hagrid!"
Harry's voice, made hoarse from tension, was tinged with surprise. At the moment, Hagrid seemed no different from a glowing angel to him.
"And Snape... Professor."
Hagrid stopped beside them, observing the two almost face-to-face, "What are you doing in Knockturn Alley?"
"Hmph." Snape seemed to have finally regained his "calm," not answering Hagrid's question but straightened up, turned on his own, "Potter—I'll leave him to you."
"Okay, you're... leaving?" Hagrid watched the man's disappearing figure around the corner, scratching his head in puzzlement.
"Hagrid, Snape was going to harm me! If you had been a minute late—" Watching Snape's vanishing shadow, Harry, filled with lingering fear, quickly told Hagrid.
"Don't speak nonsense, Harry, Snape is a Professor at Hogwarts and a trusted ally of Dumbledore—he won't harm you."
"But..."
"Alright, let's get out of here—this is not a place for a little wizard to be."
Hagrid grabbed Harry's arm and dragged the boy around the narrow, cramped alley until a ray of sunlight hit his face—Harry saw Gringotts in the distance, realizing he had returned to Diagon Alley.
After reuniting with the Weasleys and retrieving money from Gringotts, Harry finally joined Ron and Hermione—when Harry recounted his experience in Knockturn Alley, Hermione opened her mouth in disbelief—
"Did he really say that? I mean—did Snape really say those things to threaten you?"
"Hey, Hermione, Harry wouldn't lie about this." Ron interrupted Hermione's doubts, "Snape's always been this kind of bad egg, this isn't the first time he's wronged Harry—we all know—"
"But that time it was Quirrell..."
Hermione referred to their first-year Quidditch match where she saw Snape casting a spell on Harry and set fire to his cloak—but Harry later learned from Quirrell that it wasn't Snape, and she always felt guilty about that misunderstanding.
"It makes no difference..." Ron rudely interrupted Hermione again, causing her to pout unhappily.
"...Let's not talk about Snape; how about we look around?"
Watching the two about to argue, Harry skillfully changed the subject, even though he had brought it up. Then the three of them, each holding a strawberry peanut butter ice cream from Florean Fortescue's, wandered aimlessly around Diagon Alley—
...
Ollivander's Wand Shop.
"...Please put the ice cream over here."
Watching the boy eagerly eating his ice cream, Garrick Ollivander said with some helplessness.
"Alright."
William agreed verbally, but his tongue still kept scraping the ice cream—until Mr. Ollivander urged him again.
"William Richard, right?" The silver-marked measuring tape began automatically measuring William's size. "Transfer students entering Hogwarts in the fifth year are rare; since I've been running this shop, I haven't seen one before—which arm do you use for your wand?"
"Right hand."
William instinctively compared the elderly man with the wand seller from a century ago—the current one seemed a bit more eccentric.
After a series of standard questions, William held the first magic wand Mr. Ollivander handed him—
"Try this, redwood, dragon heartstring, twelve inches long, a wand of fortune..."
"Oh..."
Sparkling sparks erupted from the wand's tip as William waved it—nice feel, the grooved handle felt good in hand. Except for the final showdown, he never fussed over a wand; he often ended up using wands picked from dark wizards—
"So this one?" He picked up his leaning ice cream again.
"Alright, there aren't many wizards who match with a wand on the first try—" Having been used to everyone trying at least three or four, Mr. Ollivander sighed, slightly forlorn, "That'll be—seven Galleons."
Inflation's that bad?
William's eye twitched as he fished out seven shiny Galleons from his pouch—how many ice creams could that buy?
Not long after leaving the wand shop, William dusted off the dirt he collected inside and walked, list in hand, towards Flourish and Blotts—then he noticed the crowded entrance at Flourish and Blotts Bookstore—he scanned the crowd, finally drawn to a cluster of red heads.
"Harry—"
He heard someone call out.
"..."
William paused the tongue that was licking his fourth ice cream of the day, looking at the boy's lightning scar emerging from the crowd—to be honest, he had assumed he'd have no connection to this world's protagonist.
So... did he get his crossing right this time?