(Word Count: 2,134)
Instead of following after his father, Draco quickly grabbed Harry by the arm, dragged him a bit away from the Weasleys and Grangers, and whispered angrily. "What game are you playing at? Nothing happened like you said it would!"
"I know!" Harry hissed back, "I don't know why it didn't happen! Something is wrong. Something had to have happened to make him change his plans. Maybe he—"
"Draco, darling," Narcissa called from a distance, having paused when she noticed Draco wasn't following them, "come along now, your father is eager to finish this year's school shopping!"
Draco glanced at his mum, and asked Harry urgently. "What does this mean? If you were wrong now, how do you even know it was really a vision? Perhaps you were wrong about my father."
"Draco!" His mum called again, this time somewhat impatiently.
"We'll talk about this later, Potter," Draco whispered angrily, then stormed off after his parents. Harry watched him go with suspicion. Could Draco have told his father behind his back? But he dismissed it immediately. 'No, Draco was genuinely confused and angry just now, there's no faking that. And he didn't have enough time to contact his father. He couldn't have.'
Harry's mind sifted through every piece of memory he had since entering Diagon Alley. Did Lucius give the diary to someone else, or did he simply hide it in the stacks of books here in Flourish and Blotts? Or more troubling, did he abandon his plan to use the diary at all? Did he keep it, or did he sell it to Borgin and Burkes? In canon, Lucius did visit the place just before Lockhart's book signing event, so he very well could have sold it when he was offloading some of his other dark artifacts.
He scanned the crowds in his memories for any glimpse of Lucius's face, or any sighting of the diary in anyone's hands or if the book was placed on one of the shelves here in the store. But no matter how hard he searched his memories, there was no sign of him or the diary.
"What was all that about, Harry? Since when did you talk to Malfoy?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, what's going on?" Hermione asked.
"Harry, I don't know what's going on between you," Mr. Weasley said, stepping closer, "But you should be careful around the Malfoys. They're a nasty bunch."
Harry ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath to calm himself down. He looked around at the Weasleys—minus Mrs. Weasley who was waiting in line with the Lockhart books to get them signed, and Percy who was keeping her company—and Hermione who were looking at him oddly. The interaction with Malfoy would indeed seem a bit odd from their perspective.
He gave a helpless smile. "My grandfather, Arcturus, wants me to try to get along with them better. We are a bit related, after all. Draco and I were actually doing a bit of shopping ourselves before we met here."
Ron's eyes bulged in shock, "What!? You're friends with the Malfoys now?"
Harry scoffed. "No, we're not "friends," Ron. He's still a ponce, that hasn't changed, but I am working on introducing him to the idea that his father isn't perfect, and that it might not be the best idea to follow in his footsteps."
Arthur frowned thoughtfully. "Well… perhaps you can be a good influence on the poor boy. Merlin knows he needs it. Still, do not trust Lucius. He served you-know-who, you know."
Harry nodded in confirmation. "I'm well aware. I do not like Lucius, and I tolerate Narcissa. But Draco, at least, may have a chance to turn out better."
"Impossible! Malfoy's a snake, through and through! You saw how he struts around the castle!" Ron denied.
"Well, whether I like it or not, I will have to work with him in the future when we attend the Wizengamot. So I might as well try," Harry said.
Before the conversation could continue, Harry turned to Ginny. "Ginny, may I see your cauldron for a moment?"
She blinked in confusion, but handed over the cauldron she was holding. Harry carefully rummaged through the contents within; parchment, two quills, packaged potion supplies, and an old second-hand transfiguration textbook. No diary. He didn't think it would be there, but he had to be sure. He handed everything back.
"Thank you," Harry sighed.
"What was that about?" She asked.
Harry smiled, "It's nothing, nothing at all. Well, everyone, I need to stop by Gringotts for a spell. I have a meeting with my banker about some things. I'll catch you all later."
They parted ways, and Harry made his way down the alley. He strengthened his Notice-Me-Not charm and without breaking stride pulled out his invisibility cloak and disappeared from view entirely.
He made his way down into Knockturn alley. It was a stark difference to the atmosphere of Diagon Alley, which was chaotic in a lively whimsical way. Knockturn Alley felt cramped, dark and dreary. Contrary to many fanfics however, it was not just a den of dark wizards and thieves. It contained many such shady figures, of course, but it was still one of the major commercial streets in the wizarding world.
Aside from Borgin and Burkes, there were also many other stores, such as a barber shop, Potage's Cauldron Shop, Trackleshanks Locksmith, McHavelock's Wizarding Headgear, Markus Scarr's Indelible Tattoos, The Starry Prophesier, as well as pubs, potion stores, an apothecary, and many other completely normal shops.
Though it did also have some darker stores, such as Cobb & Webb's which sold items related to the dark arts, or Dystyl Phaelanges which sold bones. The worst of them was The Coffin House which sold necromantic items. How that wasn't shut down, Harry had no idea.
Though, thinking about it, he supposed it wasn't too surprising. The dark arts is still widespread in the wizarding world, with Durmstrang, Castelobruxo, and Uagadou still openly teaching it. It was only in the last hundred years or so that the wizarding world began to turn away from it, with Dumbledore being the main driving force in the later half of that. Even today, there are still widespread uses of shrunken heads, the most famous examples being the shrunken heads in the Knight Bus and the ones in Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. Those are made in a shamanistic necromantic ritual. Actually, Harry looked down the road, there was a store specifically selling shrunken heads here as well.
So there were still plenty of hold-overs of dark magic, and explained why Knockturn Alley was still running.
Knockturn Alley itself, while it attracted some darker-minded wizards, was safe enough during the day so long as you kept your wits about you and didn't follow anyone deeper into some hidden crook. Aurors could be seen patrolling this alley more frequently, so they were quick to intervene should anything happen on the main street. During the night it was another story entirely. There were news articles about something happening here every other week.
Harry made his way to the door of Borgin and Burkes, cracked it open just a bit and hit the bell above the entryway inside with a silencing charm, before entering fully. He still had his Notice-Me-Not charm on, so no one registered the door opening by itself.
Honestly, for a shop in Knockturn Alley, Mr. Borgin had some pitiful security. There wasn't any spell or ward that Harry could feel on the door. Even in canon, there wasn't any sort of notification to the shopkeeper when the OG Harry accidentally came through the floo.
Putting aside those thoughts, Harry looked around briefly to make sure there weren't any other patrons present. Inside the shop, there were glass cabinets displaying various antiques, as well as one large black cabinet near the front entrance. This was the vanishing cabinet that had its pair in Hogwarts.
Seeing that he was alone, Harry cast a repelling ward on the front door then deliberately rang the bell as if he had just come in. He took off his cloak, stuffing it back into his trunk necklace, and dispelled the Notice-Me-Not charm on him. He had only needed them to make sure no one else saw him enter. Mr. Borgin seeing him wasn't an issue as he would be obliviating him regardless.
Harry paused at the thought, grimacing in distaste at what he was about to do. 'It had to be done.' This was one of Voldemort's horcruxes after all. He had to make sure.
"Coming!" Mr. Borgin's voice came through from the back.
Soon a stooped man appeared behind the counter smoothing out his greasy hair. He stopped in surprise when he saw Harry standing there, but put on a smarmy smile. "Greetings, Mr. Potter! What a pleasant surprise to see you in my shop. How may I be of assistance?"
Harry gave him a smile, "I'm looking for a Hand of Glory, do you have one?"
Mr. Borgin's eyes widened, before his smile turned from the smarmy salesman's to an eager one as he excitedly came around the counter to lead him to one of the glass cabinets, where there was a withered hand resting on a small cushion. This was special because if you gave the hand a candle, the candle would give light only to the holder. Perfect for sneaking in the dark. "Ah! The Hand of Glory! You have fine taste, young master, fine taste indeed! Best friend to thieves and plunderers alike!"
"And adventurous night-time students," Harry said with a smile. "It's perfect for a nightly visit to the restricted section, if you catch my meaning."
Mr. Borgin chuckled and they shared a knowing look.
That moment when they met each other's eyes, Harry struck with a strong legilimantic probe into Mr. Borgin's mind. He wasn't subtle about it, so even a wizard like Mr. Borgin felt it. He paled in horror when he realized what was happening, but it was too late. Surprisingly, there was a slight resistance. Mr. Borgin had likely learned some Occlumency, but it was obvious that he wasn't very skilled at it.
Harry easily ignored the pitiful attempts at pushing him out and forced the man to think of Lucius's visit that morning.
In the memory, Lucius and Narcissa visited. There, Lucius complained about the new muggle protection act that Arthur Weasley was pushing. Lucius provided a list of items that he was selling. In the memory, Harry scanned the list. There were a bunch of poisons, a silver opal snuffbox that releases vapors that incite paranoia and confusion, a blackthorn walking cane that inflamed old wounds of everyone around you, a wax stamp to seal letters that cuts anyone that opens the letters without permission, and an onyx ring that cannot be removed unless a key word is spoken.
It looked like Lucius wasn't selling the diary.
Scanning the memories some more, it looked like Dobby delivered the cursed items a while later, which was actually just a couple of minutes ago. Mr. Borgin had been examining these items in the back when Harry had entered, and the diary wasn't among those items either.
Harry left his mind.
Mr. Borgin shook with rage, he began to yell, "Get ou—"
Harry silenced him, then "Obliviate!"
Mr. Borgin's face slacked as the spell took hold, forgetting everything that happened in the past few minutes since Harry arrived. Then he levitated Mr. Borgin back to his desk where he was examining the dark artifacts he had purchased from Lucius, setting the snuffbox in front of him as if he had just opened it, leaving a clear explanation for any dazed or fuzzy memories.
"Confundo." Just for good measure.
As Harry left, he picked up the Hand of Glory, casting a quick Gemino spell to leave behind a fake. He also picked up the vanishing cabinet, tucking it into the corner of his storage room in his trunk, leaving behind another Gemino copy in its place. These two items weren't sold in canon until the 6th year when Draco bought them. So, with any luck, neither of those would be discovered for at least four more years.
His business done, Harry reapplied his Notice-Me-Not charm and put on his invisibility cloak. He silenced the door's bell and exited. Once outside, he removed his spells to not leave any trace, and left.
As Harry walked back to Diagon Alley, he pondered on where the Diary could be now. If Lucius hadn't sold it, that meant it was either planted on another unsuspecting student or he's keeping it.
If he kept it, then he could possibly get Draco to order Dobby to fetch it. If not, then some poor student was going to get possessed.