Many weeks later,
Harry stepped down the stairs of Leaky Cauldron one afternoon and found Black at the table, eating lunch, while reading the Daily Prophet.
Harry's eyes went wide. "… Black?!"
Arlen Black looked tall.
It felt like, in a matter of months, during the summer holidays, the boy had gone through an unprecedented growth spurt.
He was wearing a black t-shirt and pants, his short, black hair sprawled wildly over his head.
Hearing someone call out his name, Black looked to his right, and his black eyes met Harry's green.
"Tom told me a celebrity's staying here," the boy jested, grinning. "So, it was you, the Messiah!"
And weeks of heaviness melted away from Harry's shoulders.
No matter how dark the world became, Black… would always know how to bring light into it, Harry confirmed, walking up to the boy and smacking him lightly on the back. "When did you come?"
"This morning," Black said, as Harry sat down and tore a piece of bread from his plate. "Only three days to the next term. Need to buy books sooner or later…"
"… yeah," Harry nodded, chewing the bread. "I was going to buy books now, too."
Black's brows raised. "I heard you have been staying here for weeks," he said, surprised. "You haven't bought them already?!"
Harry went quiet for a while. "… They only reopened the shops a few days ago."
"… Ah…" Black nodded in understanding, facing the newspaper again. "Tough business, huh?"
Harry took a deep breath. "What are you reading over there?"
Black showed an article to Harry.
— Sirius Black Spotted in London, Minister of Magic Issues Warning —
Harry frowned. "I don't understand," he said. "Most of the escapees have already run off to America. What's this Sirius Black still doing in England?"
Black stared at Harry as if he had gone insane.
"… What?" Harry asked.
"Can't you tell?!"
"… WHAT?!" Harry asked again.
"He's so obviously after me!" Black hissed, thumping his finger on Sirius Black's name. "We are practically family!"
Oh… Harry suddenly realized why he had been having an odd feeling about Sirius Black's name.
He was about to say something when he noticed the twitch on Black's face.
Harry smacked Black's back as the latter broke out with laughter.
"… Oh, man!" Black wheezed. "You are so gullible…"
After a while, when Black had finished his lunch, he and Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron's backyard.
One solid tap with the wand on the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and the bricks rolled up on the sides, opening an archway to Diagon Alley.
Diagon Alley… the long cobbled street that remained packed with the most fascinating wizarding shops in the world… smelled of blood.
As the boys stepped forward, they couldn't help but take a deep, burning breath as if they had a cold.
There was no blood for miles.
There had been no blood for weeks.
Yet, the smell just refused to die off the street, as if it had become one with the stones.
Only a year ago, they could spend long sunny days exploring the shops and eating under the brightly colored umbrellas outside cafes.
Now, the sunny days were still there, but the sky had gained a grayish tone.
It was like invisible soot was raining down upon the alley, worsening the people's mood along with it.
As Harry and Black walked forward, they saw the wall to their right, which hosted posters of events and sales before, with dozens of Wanted Posters.
Sirius Black was laughing maniacally in the middle.
The three Lestranges, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan, surrounded Black, carrying madness on their faces in their Posters as well.
And Posters kept going on for a few meters, up and down, making everyone rush past this portion of the Alley involuntarily, as if it was cursed.
"… Let's go," Harry said.
The boys had crossed only a few shops when they met another cursed place.
It smelled like someone had poured oil in blood before lighting it up.
The Brews and Stews, where even the two of them had had meals several times, had now become black, burnt ruins. All the occupants, fifteen of them, including Ms. Crispe Clutterbuck, the owner, had been instantly evaporated, it was said.
All… but one.
One permanent resident of the restaurant-cum-hotel had survived miraculously.
One resident, who had become a topic of wild rumors, hateful comments, and open, condemning protests in the last few weeks.
There were posters of her, too.
Not issued by the Ministry, but handmade by those who now wanted to see her locked up in some cellar.
Those posters, one of which was on the ruined wall of the Brews and Stews, showed her laughing in black and white.
And the words — Dark Princess — were written in bold under her tall figure.
It was Darcie Malfoy — whose Magical Suitcase had been infested by the Yellow Warlock, resulting in this grand tragedy.
The Princess of Diagon Alley… seemed to have lost her crown.
But not all had forgotten who had singlehandedly raised Diagon Alley's popularity internationally.
Mr. Pigplanter Hillam, Manager of the Flourish and Blotts Bookseller, rushed past the boys and tore the poster off the wall, mumbling under his breath.
When he turned around, he found Harry and Black staring at him.
"Did you two put it here?!" the Manager thundered.
Harry hurriedly shook his head.
"… and made her look so beautiful?" Black countered. "You think we are morons…"
Harry gaped.
In front of them, Mr. Hillam mimicked Harry's expression.
Then, calming down, his fuming eyes finally recognized Harry and Black. "… Ah… Pardon me, boys," he said, crushing the poster. "Here for books, I presume?"
Harry nodded.
"Follow me," the Manager said, smiling.
"I am expecting a Discount," Black hissed behind the man's back.
"Black!" Harry elbowed the boy. "… Seriously?!"
"What?" Black countered. "He was about to curse us…"
"Cough…" Mr. Hillam cleared his throat. "Alright… 10% it is…"
The bookstore's age-old bell chimed as the three entered, another set of students entering Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron at the same time…
… hurriedly passing by the cursed wall.
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