Harry, Key, and the Mystery of the Chamber of secrets

Chapter 7

The story goes to Wednesday, where Mrs. Weasley woke everybody up early.

After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

"We're running low, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today… Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"

And she offered him the flowerpot.

Harry stared at them all watching him.

"W-what am I supposed to do?" Harry stammered.

"He's never traveled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."

"Neither have I as well", said Key.

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"

"We went on the Underground" said Key.

"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly—"

"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before—"

"He'll be alright, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first".

Fred took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate…"

"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.

"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly—" said Mrs. Weasley.

"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder, too.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to his aunt and uncle?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"They wouldn't mind," Harry reassured her. "Dudley would think it was a brilliant joke if I got lost up a chimney, don't worry about that—"

"Well… all right… you go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going—"

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.

"And your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley. "The soot—"

"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace—"

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed.

It felt as though he were being sucked down a giant drain.

"Oh, dear what did he say?" asked Molly.

"I think I heard diagonally", said Makai.

Key grabbed a pinch of floo powder, her eyes glowed, and said "Take me to where he went".

Then, a green flame takes Key away.

"Key!" gasped Makai.

After the green flame took Key away, it felt like she was spinning, this makes her nearly sick.

The story has Harry facing forward onto a cold stone and felt the bridge of his glasses snap, then Key lands on top of him and she drops her glasses.

Key reaches around and asks "Harry is that you?"

"Yes", said Harry.

Key whispers a spell, which clears up her glasses, and makes it levitate and land on her face.

Key noticed Harry's glasses, and fixed them, then put them on his face.

"Thank you", said Harry, feeling dizzy.

Key carefully helps Harry up, and hugs him.

"Where are we?" asked Harry.

Key looks around seeing a glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling and recognized this place from her and Makai's vision.

"This is Knockturn Alley", said Key.

"Knockturn Alley?" asked Harry, confused.

Key takes Harry's hand, and says "No time, we need to go".

But as Key and Harry made it to the door, two people appeared on the other side of the glass—and one of them was the very last person Harry and Key wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left;

Key pulled the doors open, pushing Harry inside along with herself and closed it, leaving a small crack to peer through.

Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Malfoy stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Malfoy, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous… famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…"

Malfoy bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

"…everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick—"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that it is not—prudent—to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear—ah, Mr. Borgin."

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted—and young Master Malfoy, too—charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced—"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.

"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few—ah—items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…"

Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act—no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it—"

Harry and Key felt a hot surge of anger.

"—and as you can see, certain of these poisons might make it appear—"

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see…"

"Can I have that?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant—"

"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for—"

"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger—"

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.

"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.

Key smiles too.

"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere—"

"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today—"

They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed—Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.

Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward—he stretched out his hand for the handle—

"Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco—"

Harry wiped his forehead on his sleeve as Draco turned away.

Key sighed.

"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."

The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.

"Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor…"

Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room.

Harry and Key waited for a minute in case he came back.

Harry and Key quietly as they could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.

Harry and Key lands in a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one they'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching him from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other.

They head off.

"Harry, stay by my side", said Key, holding Harry's hand.

"Okay", said Harry.

"Not lost are you, my dears?" said a voice.

The voice came from an aged witch stood in front of them, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at them, showing mossy teeth.

Harry backed away behind Key.

"We're fine, thanks," said Harry. "I'm just—"

A bunch of creeps surrounded Key and Harry.

Key with glowing eyes and a dark aura around her says "Stay away from my cousin".

"She's a fae!" yelled a man, as the others backed away and ran.

"Key! Harry!" called A voice.

Key and Harry turned around to see Abigail and Hagrid.

They run to Abigail and Hagrid.