Click-click-click. The camera shutters went off like fireworks.
"Smile big, Harry. Front page, you and me!"
Gilderoy Lockhart flashed his trademark dazzling grin and whispered to Harry.
Harry just felt awkward. This guy was weird.
As soon as the clicks slowed, Lockhart boomed to the crowd:
"Ladies and gentlemen, what a thrilling moment!"
"When little Harry stepped into the shop this morning to buy my autobiography, Magical Me—number one on the Daily Prophet bestseller list for 27 weeks straight—he never dreamed…"
He paused for drama, milking the suspense.
"…that I'd be giving him my entire collected works—for free!"
The crowd erupted in applause. Lockhart beamed, ready to wave Harry off and kick off his signing.
But he missed Harry taking a few deep breaths, clutching a black cloth bag embroidered with silver patterns.
"Oh nooo, these books are way too heavy. I can't possibly carry them~~"
The whiny, over-the-top voice froze Lockhart's smile. He whipped around. What is this kid doing?
Those books weren't heavy. Did the boy skip meals? Never lift a quill?
Lockhart opened his mouth to smooth things over with his famous charm.
Then the crowd chimed in, sing-song:
"Yeah, what's the great Boy-Who-Lived gonna do?"
"I lug books and cauldrons to school every day. Kills my back. Any tips, legendary boy?"
Lockhart wasn't the only one stunned. Harry's face went scarlet. He glared into the crowd at the bouncing Weasley twins.
The script didn't include "Boy-Who-Lived" or "legendary boy"!
But the arrow was loosed. Harry squared his shoulders, hoisted the black bag, and announced loud and clear:
"No worries—I've got this. The Shrinkable Satchel—holds any number of books!"
As he spoke, he whipped out his wand, cast a Levitation Charm, and floated Lockhart's books one by one into the bag's mouth. He held it chest-high so everyone could see—especially the corner with the logo peeking out.
"Still stressing over bulky luggage on trips? Heartbroken watching your kid haul textbooks? The Shrinkable Satchel has you covered."
"Details at Diagon Alley, shop XXX…"
Lockhart's jaw dropped.
This kid is… running an ad?
At my signing?
Harry Potter just hijacked the stage.
Lockhart had only wanted a quick photo-op with the famous kid to boost his own hype. How did it flip like this?
He stood there, brain buffering.
But someone reacted fast.
A Daily Prophet reporter had been snapping like mad the second Harry pulled out the satchel.
Lockhart selling books? Old news. Happens monthly.
The Boy-Who-Lived shilling a product? That's gold.
Harry Potter was always at school or locked away "studying" over breaks. Scoop city.
"Genius," the reporter muttered, framing perfect shots of Harry's face and the satchel. "Who's the mastermind that got Harry Potter to advertise?"
Crowd chatter kicked up:
"L.G.?"
"New workshop? Looks cool. Gotta check that shop Harry mentioned."
"No idea on price. Undetectable Extension Charm containers are never cheap…"
"Tell me about it. Only a few makers—price-gouging gits. Merlin's purse, total crooks!"
Harry struck a few more poses with the satchel, already daydreaming about the "cool spells" Lucien promised as payment.
To dodge the autograph swarm, Lucien had already slipped with his aunt to a quieter corner of the shop.
"That boy—is he a big deal in your world?" his aunt asked.
Lucien didn't blink. The crowd's reaction said it all.
"Yeah. Wizarding celebrity. Muggle equivalent of a pop star."
Penelope nodded, understanding why Lucien tapped Harry for promo. She didn't lecture about "friendship requiring reciprocity"—Lucien could handle that.
"Oh, right—that Lockhart guy. His adventures really as wild as he claims?"
Lucien smirked. "You saw through him."
Penelope toyed with her ring, tone casual. "He looks like a writer. Doesn't feel like an adventurer. Hard to picture him wrestling trolls, no?"
As head of the Grafton family, real-world experience sharpened her people-reading to a razor.
Lucien wasn't surprised. Of course Aunt Penelope clocked a fraud.
"Not like our little Lucien," she teased. "Handsome and talented."
"Speaking of—any nice girls at school? I sent jewelry, remember? If not, winter break you can meet the Campbell and Fitzgerald girls again. They're—"
The topic switch was so fast Lucien nearly choked.
---
"Ah, the great Boy-Who-Lived emerges."
Draco Malfoy blocked Harry's escape from the crowd, smug as ever.
Harry didn't even want to guess why. Malfoy was always like this.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
Malfoy shrugged theatrically.
"Poor Potter. Bet your summer was boring. Finally back in the papers before term starts. So jealous."
Harry frowned. A summer without Lucien keeping Malfoy in check—had the ferret relapsed?
"Spit it out."
Malfoy's grin widened. He pulled moving photos from his robes and shoved them in Harry's face.
"Ahem. Lucien and I visited my family's dragon reserve this summer. Only got a few shots—help me pick the best?"
Ginny, who'd been about to defend Harry, slowly formed a "?" above her head.
---
Flourish and Blotts. Harry stared at the photos.
Mostly Lucien and Malfoy posing with dragons: Ukrainian Ironbelly, Chinese Fireball, Welsh Green…
Before Harry could roast him, Malfoy glanced at Ron jogging up and said airily:
"Oh, the reserve's loads of fun. Guess who didn't get an invite?"
"You~."
Ginny blinked. Dad always said Malfoys were evil. But this one… didn't seem smart?
Ron, clueless till Ginny whispered the rundown, finally caught up.
Malfoy eyed their red hair, remembering Arthur Weasley's "work visits" raiding Malfoy Manor.
He sneered: "Trip's pricey anyway. Some people should save for textbooks. Or wands. Second-hand."
Ron dropped his books, fists clenched.
But Harry cut in, cool as ice:
"Malfoy—did Lucien actually visit your house?"
Malfoy answered on reflex: "No—noble invitations are formal. The whole process—"
After Lucien's birthday gala, Malfoy knew the Graftons' Muggle-world clout. Lucien was class. Required proper etiquette.
He was mid-brag when Harry interrupted:
"Oh. Lucien came to my house. And Ron's. Think hanging with friends beats a dragon park. Right?"
Malfoy's brain short-circuited. He lost to Potter—and the Weasleys—because of manners?
A big hand clamped Malfoy's shoulder.
"Mr. Potter."
"Lucius Malfoy. At last we meet."
Lucius shook Harry's hand—then yanked him close, inspecting the lightning scar.
"Legendary mark."
He released Harry, looking down at Muggle-born Hermione and the Weasley kids with open contempt. He opened his mouth—
Then spotted a striking teen approaching.
Those vivid dark-green eyes. Lucien Grafton.
They'd met briefly when Draco was injured at Hogwarts. Even then, Lucien stood out. Nearly a year later, Lucius's honed instincts screamed: deeper aura, perfectly restrained.
Family blood and training.
Lucius extended a hand—elegant, aristocratic.
"My thanks for aiding Draco. His friendship with you is a blessing."
Lucien matched the courtesy: "Draco's fundamentals are rock-solid. Excellent upbringing."
Meanwhile, a black swirl flickered in Lucien's pupils. Peripheral vision locked on Lucius's waist.
That cold, twisted magic…
Horcrux.
Lucius ignored the "lesser" kids, chatted politely with Lucien, then steered Draco toward the back.
As they passed, Lucien's wand flashed under his sleeve.
An invisible mark settled on the diary in Lucius's pocket.
Even Lucius— inches away—felt nothing.
Lucien caught up with Harry's group, heard the rundown, and shook his head.
Kids.
They split. Lucien took his aunt shopping—picked up a broom for alchemical experiments—then saw her to the car.
"Got something to handle. Home soon."
All the while, he tracked the diary's mark. Still in Flourish and Blotts.
Then—it moved.
Lucien followed the ping through the crowd.
The source made him frown.
A peacock in robes. Blond. Gilderoy Lockhart.
Wait—the diary's with him?
In the books, Lucius slipped it to Ginny. Chaos ensued.
Lucien's plan: wait till Ginny had it, then snag it.
But a spark of inspiration hit. Change the script—see what shakes loose.
Curious, he'd marked the diary to track.
Never expected Lockhart.
World correction?
The diary's Voldemort's first Horcrux—soul fragment.
Voldemort cursed the Defense post.
Lockhart's already hired… curse active?
Magic linkage—curse-maker's soul meets the cursed?
Wizard coincidence…
Lockhart, oblivious to the tail, hurried home.
He'd scored a treasure.
A real adventure awaited.
Write it up? His magnum opus.
A ghostly, honeyed voice whispered:
You'll be the most famous wizard. A true legend. Wealth, glory…
Go to Hogwarts. Everything you want awaits…