The Meeting at Madam Malkin's
"When we get back home, we should ask Aunt Mor to improve our wands," said Percy as soon as they left the shop.
At least he said it outside; if Ollivander had heard that, he would have surely made a sharp face—or worse, kicked them out and demanded their wands back.
Harry, for his part, nodded with his usual serious expression as he examined his own wand carefully. Then he reached for the pendant around his neck—the one their mother had given them years ago, one for him and one for Percy.
The moment his wand accepted him, he also felt a faint warmth emanating from the pendant, as if something within it had responded to that connection.
According to his mother, she had bought the pendant in a strange little shop that vanished the very next day. Harry held it gently, sensing the soft heat and a special, intimate bond, as though the object somehow knew his soul.
Percy, however, was far too excited about buying his Hogwarts uniform to waste time on sentimental thoughts.
"Come on, Harry, hurry up!" he said enthusiastically, taking the lead through the crowd.
Sally smiled at her sons and followed them closely, never letting them out of her sight. Even so, her eyes remained alert to her surroundings.
She knew that many people were aware this was the year when the famous "Boy Who Lived" would be going to Hogwarts; it was very likely that someone was already trying to find him. For that reason, Harry always wore a small illusion charm over his scar whenever they entered Diagon Alley, to keep from being recognized. For some reason, everyone seemed to know exactly what the scar looked like, as if they had all seen his face a hundred times.
Sally moved with a careful, watchful stride, scanning every corner and shadow, while her sons, fresh from buying their wands, looked utterly delighted—just as they always did when visiting the Alley.
A few passersby who recognized them waved with kind smiles, and even some strangers couldn't help but smile at the sight of the boys' excitement as they ran between the shops.
And they weren't the only ones enjoying themselves.
Harry ran after his brother, trying to catch up, when suddenly someone stepped into his path. The collision was unavoidable.
He bumped into a girl; though he managed to stop himself thanks to his physical training with Percy, the girl wasn't as lucky and fell to the ground.
"Ah… I'm really sorry," Harry said immediately, stepping forward and offering her his hand to help her up.
The girl had thick, curly brown hair—an untamable mane that seemed to have a life of its own. Her front teeth were a bit large, and her bright brown eyes shone with a mix of pride and irritation. Her expression showed clear annoyance at being knocked down.
She lifted her gaze and met Harry's green eyes.
"Watch where you're going! Don't you have eyes?" she said sharply, rejecting his hand and standing up on her own.
Harry, slightly embarrassed, took a small step back and lowered the hand he had offered.
"Sorry," he repeated sincerely.
The girl stared at him for a few seconds before huffing.
"It's fine… just watch where you're going next time. You don't want to run into everyone in your way," she said at last, before turning toward her parents, who were hurrying over, clearly worried after seeing her fall. She must have run ahead in her excitement, because she rushed back to them, and her mother began dusting her clothes affectionately.
Sally approached Harry quickly, who was still glancing toward the girl.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, scanning him with her eyes to make sure he wasn't hurt.
"Maybe we should buy you bigger glasses," Percy teased with a grin as he came up on the other side.
"I'm fine," Harry replied at once, glaring at his brother. "This is your fault, idiot. Why do you have to run everywhere all the time?"
"It's not my fault you're slow," Percy answered, still smirking.
"Alright, enough of that for now," interrupted Sally, her tone patient yet firm. "Let's finish shopping and head home."
Still, her attention didn't waver from their surroundings; she could feel several glances turning toward Harry. Yet, when those people failed to spot the famous scar, they seemed to lose interest and moved on with their business.
"Where are we going next?" Harry asked, resigned, with no desire to chase after his brother again.
He took his mother's hand, and Percy, noticing that, quickly hurried over to grab her other one.
"I want to buy a pet! The letter said we can have one!" Percy exclaimed, his excitement returning.
Harry looked at him with a half-smile.
"You can barely take care of yourself, and you already want a pet?" he teased lightly.
"My dear younger brother, you clearly don't understand," Percy replied in an overly pompous tone. "Magical pets are different. We just have to pick one that doesn't need too much attention… and that's cool and magical."
"I'm not your younger brother," Harry shot back instantly.
Sally, holding both of their hands, wore a look of brief happiness that faded almost immediately as their usual bickering resumed. With a patient sigh, she shook her head and began walking again, leading them both along.
…
Harry and Percy were now standing on two small platforms while two seamstresses measured them with ribbons and pins to make their uniforms. Sally sat nearby, flipping through a catalog. Her eyes glimmered slightly as she imagined which styles of clothing would look best on her sons.
She usually preferred Muggle-style clothing; it was more comfortable and practical for them, especially since they were so restless and active. But now that they would be attending Hogwarts, she thought perhaps she should buy them outfits that looked a bit more… magical.
The fashion of the wizarding world, however, struck her as rather old-fashioned: robes, cloaks, and garments that looked straight out of the medieval era. Still, she couldn't deny that they had a certain charm and elegance.
Meanwhile, Percy and Harry looked like two stiff mannequins. They wore the fitting robes while the seamstresses, armed with pins, adjusted them to every inch of their bodies. Both boys stood completely still, afraid to move and get pricked.
Sally couldn't help but smile at the sight; she turned the pages of her catalog slowly, occasionally glancing up to watch them, enjoying the scene with a mix of tenderness and quiet amusement.
"I already told you there's nothing to be afraid of; we're professionals, and we've been in the fashion business for a very long time," said a plump woman with a warm smile, looking at them calmly.
It was Madam Malkin, the owner of the shop. She seemed kind and had received them with genuine friendliness. Several Hogwarts robes were already prepared—apparently both new and returning students came here to buy their uniforms.
The door chime rang at that moment, catching everyone's attention. Sally lifted her gaze and saw new visitors entering: a family of three who moved with an air of arrogance and noble superiority, their faces filled with disdain toward everything around them.
However, when they noticed Sally sitting there, their expressions changed; the man subtly reached for the cane he was holding, as if about to draw his wand from within it.
It was Lucius Malfoy. At his side was Narcissa, who immediately stepped in front of her son protectively; her eyes fixed on Sally with a mix of threat and contempt.
Sally didn't back down. She set aside the book she was holding and, with quiet tension, placed her left hand over her bag, brushing the magical tome hidden inside, while her right hand rested near her wand.
"What are you doing here?" Lucius asked sharply, his tone filled with resentment and danger, standing like a man ready to attack. Before he could act, however, he felt a sudden chill down his neck. He turned around abruptly and looked through the glass door; several people who had seemed like ordinary passersby moments ago were now moving quickly toward the shop, their hands concealed under their cloaks. Within seconds, the store was surrounded.
A flash of light descended from the sky, and from its center appeared a not-so-old man with silver hair and gray eyes, holding a staff. Lucius recognized him instantly.
Mark stepped into the shop without hesitation. His gaze swept across the room swiftly—first checking on the children and Sally, then locking onto Lucius.
Lucius drew the wand hidden inside the handle of his cane, which had a golden serpent's head. Narcissa, visibly tense, pulled her son close and raised her own wand, glancing warily between Mark and the people outside.
"Ah, you again. Can't you appreciate the freedom that cost you so much to gain?" Mark said as soon as he recognized him. He held his staff in one hand and a potion glowing red in the other.
While Lucius was distracted, Sally took a cautious step forward to stand protectively in front of her children.
"You as well—damned blood traitors! What are you doing here? Servants of Muggles who fancy themselves ancient knights!" Lucius spat, his face twisting with anger at Mark's words.
Lucius had spent a few years in prison. The Ministry of Magic had to make considerable efforts to secure his release, as his sentence had initially seemed destined to last much longer. What humiliated him most was that the prison he'd been sent to was a Muggle one. He'd been forced to live among non-magical people for nearly four years, constantly watched to ensure he didn't use magic—if he had, he'd have been thrown into solitary confinement. Living as a Muggle for so long was something his purist circle would never forgive. That humiliation had turned his resentment bitter and deep.
Although he had been an accomplice, much of the blame had fallen on an old Black, who had died months earlier in prison. Lucius looked as though he wanted to unleash spells in every direction—not only to silence those present but also to vent the hatred he carried toward them. Yet there were people outside, and some of them were not wizards. The "knights" had proven themselves dangerous; even wizards now feared them. Many still blamed the Malfoy family for having brought those knights into their hidden world, where they now kept even wizards under watch to prevent harm to Muggles.
"A new invented title?" Mark mocked, his tone sharp. "I've heard you call 'blood traitors' the idiots who don't share your same stupid ideals. It's funny—none of you are truly pure-blooded anyway." He then glanced briefly at Narcissa and her son, his disdain plain.
"Do you really want to start something here, with your family right in front of you? You should accept the amnesty you were given—live a peaceful life, stay out of trouble, and stop being such a fool," Mark added, his voice steady and serious.
"You—!" Lucius seethed, but his wife's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Lucius, please," she murmured, her voice trembling with concern for their child's safety.
Lucius looked at Narcissa, then at Mark, Sally, and the people guarding the outside. Finally, his eyes fell on the two boys glaring at him from behind their mother, who held them back protectively.
"Hmph. This isn't over. If you come here, remember—this is not your world; it's ours," Lucius said coldly before turning to leave.
A man stepped directly in front of him, staring him down, ready to attack with a dagger in one hand and a Muggle pistol in the other. Lucius froze, glaring back with venom, as more men drew their weapons.
"Let him go. It's better if he's far away," Mark called from inside the shop.
The men nodded; after a tense pause, they holstered their weapons and stepped aside. Lucius, Narcissa, and their son—clinging tightly to his mother—walked through the silent crowd, feeling the weight of countless eyes fixed on them.
Friends and witches standing guard nearby continued watching attentively; the tension lingered in the air long after the Malfoy family had gone.