The August sun beat down on Diagon Alley's cobblestones, turning the narrow street into an oven. Chris stepped out of Gringotts' marble coolness, blinking against the sudden brightness as satisfaction settled in his chest. Two major objectives accomplished in a single morning: empowering Harry Potter and arranging for the retrieval of the Resurrection Stone. Not bad for a day's work, he thought, pocketing his money pouch and mentally shifting focus to the mundane task of school shopping.
He navigated through the crowd with ease, his glamour bracelet humming pleasantly against his skin. Families clustered around shop windows, children pointing excitedly at the latest racing broom or exotic pet. His HUD remained inactive for now; in such a magic-dense location, the overlay would be overwhelmingly cluttered.
A flash of red-blonde hair caught his eye near Flourish and Blotts. Susan Bones stood with her back to him, her summer-tanned shoulders visible beneath a light blue sundress as she gestured animatedly to Hannah Abbott. The blonde girl's familiar plait hung down her back, longer than it had been at the end of term, and she nodded enthusiastically at whatever Susan was saying.
A genuine smile spread across Chris's face, warmth blossoming in his chest at the sight of his friends. These moments of authentic connection had become increasingly precious to him, anchors of normalcy amid his crazy first year adventures.
"Is that Gilderoy Lockhart?" Hannah was saying as Chris approached. "The one who's written all those books on our list?"
"It must be," Susan replied, pressing her nose against the bookshop window. "Aunt Amelia says he's full of…"
"Hot air?" Chris suggested, stepping up beside them.
Both girls whirled around, identical expressions of delighted surprise blooming on their faces.
"Chris!" Susan exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. "We were just wondering when we'd see you!"
Hannah joined the embrace, her familiar scent of parchment and herbs enveloping him momentarily. "Your hair's even whiter," she observed as she stepped back, studying him. "Did you spend the whole summer inside reading?"
"Not the whole summer," Chris replied with a laugh. "Just most of it. You both look wonderful. The sun agrees with you."
Susan's cheeks coloured slightly at the compliment. "I've been helping Aunt Amelia in her garden. She says physical labour builds character."
"And magical plants need tending even in summer," Hannah added. "Dad's been breeding a new strain of Flutterby Bush that changes colour with the moon phases."
Chris leaned against the shop window, genuinely interested. "That sounds fascinating. Has he had any success?"
"The prototype turns a lovely shade of silver during the full moon," Hannah said, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "But it keeps exploding into confetti during the new moon, which isn't ideal."
They all laughed, falling easily back into the comfortable rhythm of their friendship despite the weeks apart. The tension Chris carried in his shoulders eased slightly; for all his careful planning, these moments of simple connection remained refreshingly uncomplicated.
"What about you?" Susan asked. "Your last letter mentioned visiting some family properties in Italy?"
"Two weeks near Florence," Chris confirmed, selecting details that were both untrue and appropriately ordinary. "The villa there has been in the family for centuries. I spent most of the time exploring the library and practicing magic."
Hannah sighed enviously. "Must be nice having an international magical household. Dad's strict about underage magic restrictions, even though the Ministry can't actually detect who cast the spell in a wizarding home."
"Speaking of the Ministry," Susan lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Aunt Amelia's been absolutely swamped since the Black exoneration. She's heading a special commission reviewing all the old Death Eater trials."
"Any interesting developments?" Chris asked, excited about the gossip.
Susan glanced around before answering. "She won't tell me details, of course, but she did mention they've found at least three more cases of people imprisoned without proper trials. And the Wizengamot's in complete disarray after the Voldemort revelation."
"I still can't believe he was a half-blood all along," Hannah whispered, shivering slightly despite the August heat. "My dad says several prominent families have practically gone into hiding from the shame of it all."
"The Malfoys chief among them, I'd imagine," Chris said, allowing a hint of satisfaction to colour his tone. "Difficult to maintain your pureblood superiority platform when your chosen leader was secretly everything you claim to despise."
"The Daily Prophet says Lucius Malfoy's donations to the Ministry have dried up completely," Susan added. "And there are rumours that some former Death Eaters are suffering from permanent magical damage."
Chris nodded thoughtfully, knowing exactly why their magic had been depleted. The Soul Execution Ritual he'd performed on Voldemort had affected all who bore the Dark Mark, though none would ever trace it back to him.
"Enough politics," Hannah declared, pulling her Hogwarts letter from her bag. "Have you seen this year's booklist? Seven books by Gilderoy Lockhart! My parents nearly fainted at the price."
Chris and Susan retrieved their own letters, comparing the identical lists. Chris frowned at the titles: Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Holidays with Hags, pure fiction masquerading as educational material.
"This explains the crowd," Susan said, gesturing toward Flourish and Blotts, where a line stretched out the door and halfway down the street. A banner above the entrance announced:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 - 4:30 pm
"Wonderful," Chris muttered. "We've got a celebrity teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Is he any good?" Hannah asked, studying the crowd with apprehension.
"His books are full of inconsistencies and impossibilities," Chris replied. "Either he's lying, or he's the most accomplished wizard since Merlin himself."
"Well, we need those books regardless," Susan said pragmatically. "Shall we brave the crowd together?"
Chris offered each girl an arm with exaggerated gallantry. "Safety in numbers milady's. Let's get this over with."
As they approached the bookshop, the excited chatter of the crowd grew louder. Chris mentally prepared himself for the chaos ahead, already plotting how to navigate the throng and escape as quickly as possible.
The entrance to Flourish and Blotts resembled the mouth of a beast that had swallowed too many witches at once, bodies pressed against each other in a writhing mass of excitement. Chris paused at the threshold, Susan and Hannah flanking him as they surveyed the chaos within. Women of various ages clutched Lockhart's books to their chests like treasured artifacts, their faces flushed with anticipation. The air inside seemed thinner somehow, consumed by the collective breath of too many people in too small a space.
"Merlin's beard," Hannah whispered, clutching her booklist tightly. "It's worse than the Hufflepuff common room after a Quidditch victory."
"And significantly less pleasant," Chris observed dryly. He gestured toward a narrow gap between two display tables. "If we stick to the edges, we might be able to gather our books and escape before anyone notices."
Susan nodded determinedly. "Quick and efficient. No lingering."
They edged into the shop, immediately assaulted by the scent of at least a dozen competing perfumes. A harried-looking shop assistant struggled past, his arms laden with copies of Magical Me, the gilded lettering catching the light as he moved.
At the back of the shop, enthroned behind a small table piled high with his books, sat Gilderoy Lockhart. He wore forget-me-not blue robes that exactly matched his eyes, his golden hair carefully arranged in artistic waves. His smile contained more teeth than seemed anatomically possible, flashing periodically like a lighthouse beacon as a photographer from the Daily Prophet circled him, capturing his "spontaneous" poses.
"I feel ill," Chris muttered, reaching for The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 from a nearby shelf. "Let's grab what we need and…"
He was interrupted by a commotion near Lockhart's table. The photographer had bumped into someone, and Lockhart glanced up, his practiced smile freezing in place as his gaze landed on a familiar black-haired boy trying to slip unnoticed through the crowd.
"It can't be Harry Potter?" Lockhart exclaimed with theatrical disbelief.
The crowd parted like a sea, whispers rippling outward as Harry stood frozen in place, horror washing over his face. Before the boy could escape, Lockhart lunged forward with surprising speed, seizing Harry's arm and dragging him forward.
"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart commanded through his own dazzling grin. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."
The photographer's camera emitted great puffs of purple smoke with each blinding flash. Harry blinked rapidly, his cheeks burning red as he attempted to pull away, but Lockhart's grip on his shoulder was vise-like.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lockhart called to the crowd, silencing them with a wave of his hand. "What an extraordinary moment this is! Perfect opportunity to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!"
He pulled Harry closer, ignoring the boy's evident discomfort. "When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted my autobiography, which I shall present to him now, free of charge." The crowd applauded appreciatively. "He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me."
Lockhart paused dramatically. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The shop erupted in cheers and applause. Lockhart presented Harry with the entire collected works before finally releasing him. Harry staggered slightly under the weight of the books, his expression suggesting he'd rather face another mountain troll than endure another moment in the spotlight.
Chris watched with a mixture of amusement and sympathy as Harry navigated toward the edge of the room, where a small, red-haired girl stood holding a cauldron. The youngest Weasley, Ginny, if Chris remembered correctly. Harry dumped the signed books into her cauldron with evident relief.
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" a cold, drawling voice cut through the crowd.
Draco Malfoy had appeared, his pointed face wearing its customary sneer. His pale blond hair gleamed under the shop lights, slicked back with what must have been half a bottle of Sleekeazy's.
Harry straightened, tension visible in his shoulders. "Leave me alone, Malfoy."
"Famous Harry Potter," Malfoy continued, undeterred. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
"Leave him alone!" Ginny stepped forward, her fierce expression at odds with her small stature. "He didn't want all that!"
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy drawled. Ginny's face flushed crimson to match her hair.
The brewing confrontation was interrupted by the arrival of Ron Weasley, struggling under a stack of Lockhart's books. "What's going on? What are you doing here, Malfoy?"
Before Draco could respond, a tall figure with the same white-blond hair appeared behind him, resting a silver-tipped cane on his son's shoulder. Lucius Malfoy surveyed the scene with cold disdain, his gaze lingering on Harry's forehead.
"Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley."
Chris turned to see Arthur Weasley approaching, his face flushed with the heat of the shop, accompanied by twin boys who could only be Fred and George.
"Lucius," Arthur acknowledged coldly.
Lucius Malfoy's lip curled as he glanced at the second hand books in Ginny's cauldron. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
Arthur flushed darker. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."
"Clearly," Lucius replied, his gaze drifting toward a couple standing nervously at the edge of the confrontation, Muggles, by their bewildered expressions and strange clothing. "The company you keep... And I thought your family could sink no lower."
What happened next occurred with such speed that even Chris, with his enhanced reflexes, barely registered the movement. Arthur Weasley launched himself at Lucius Malfoy, sending them both crashing into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks rained down upon their heads as they grappled, Lucius's silver-tipped cane swinging wildly.
"Get him, Dad!" one of the twins shouted.
"No, Arthur, no!" a plump witch with flaming red hair cried, attempting to pull her husband back.
Susan grabbed Chris's arm, her fingers digging in as she stifled a laugh. "Are they actually having a fistfight? In a bookshop?"
"Apparently wizarding duels are too civilized," Chris replied, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.
Hannah covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shocked delight. "My dad would die if he saw this. Two grown men rolling around on the floor like first-years!"
As the fight continued, knocking more books from their shelves and sending customers scrambling for safety, Chris noticed a subtle movement from Lucius Malfoy. In the chaos, the man had extracted a slim black book from within his robes and, with a deft flick of his wrist, slipped it into Ginny Weasley's battered cauldron among her other books.
Chris registered the action with mild interest but no concern. The diary of Tom Riddle, once a vessel for a fragment of Voldemort's soul, now rendered harmless by the Soul Execution Ritual that had destroyed every piece of the Dark Lord's essence simultaneously. Without its Horcrux, it was just an old, empty diary. Lucius's petty attempt at revenge would amount to nothing.
"Break it up, there, gents, break it up!" A booming voice accompanied the arrival of an enormous figure who physically separated the two men. Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, held them apart with ease, one in each massive hand.
Lucius Malfoy's lip was bleeding slightly. He straightened his robes with as much dignity as he could muster, still clutching one of Ginny's old Transfiguration books. "Here, girl, take your book, it's the best your father can give you" He thrust it back at her, his eyes glittering with malice.
Extracting himself from Hagrid's grip, Lucius beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop, the crowd parting hastily before him.
"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," Hagrid admonished, helping the man straighten his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family..."
As the excitement died down, Chris caught Susan and Hannah's eyes. "I believe that's our cue to finish our shopping and make a swift exit before any more purebloods decide to wrestle among the literature."
With the crowd still distracted by the aftermath of the fight, they seized their opportunity to gather their required books and pay, escaping into the relative calm of Diagon Alley before anyone could start another spectacle.
The sunlight felt cleansing after the stifling atmosphere of Flourish and Blotts, washing away the scent of too many perfumes and the tension of witnessing grown wizards reduced to schoolyard brawling. Chris adjusted his grip on the heavy stack of Lockhart books, their gaudy covers featuring the same tooth-sparkling smile photographed from slightly different angles. Susan and Hannah flanked him, their faces still flushed with suppressed laughter as they put distance between themselves and the bookshop.
"Did you see Lockhart's face when the shelf came down?" Hannah asked, finally releasing the giggle she'd been containing. "He looked terrified his hair might get messed up."
"Five galleons says the Prophet runs the story with a headline about how he bravely broke up the fight," Susan added, shifting her own packages to her other arm.
Chris shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. "I wouldn't take that bet. The man could witness a dragon attack and somehow make it about his dental care routine."
They meandered down the alley, passing families laden with school supplies and tired-looking parents trying to corral excited children. A young boy pressed his nose against the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, pointing at the same Nimbus 2001 Harry had been admiring earlier. Outside the Magical Menagerie, a witch struggled with a cage containing a rabbit with tiny antlers.
"So," Susan said after they'd walked in comfortable silence for a moment, "that's our new Defence professor."
"Unfortunately," Chris confirmed, his tone deliberately light despite his internal calculations. Lockhart would be neutralized soon enough. "I suspect we'll be continuing our study group from last year."
"At least we know what we're doing this time," Hannah said pragmatically. "And we won't have a professor who doesn't stutter, so that's an improvement."
Chris chuckled at her matter-of-fact assessment. "A low bar, but yes."
They paused near Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, where several outdoor tables were occupied by witches and wizards enjoying sundaes in the summer heat. Susan leaned against a lamppost, her expression turning thoughtful.
"What do you make of Mr. Malfoy slipping that book into Ginny Weasley's cauldron?" she asked, lowering her voice despite the lack of eavesdroppers nearby.
Chris kept his expression neutral, though he was impressed by Susan's observational skills. "You noticed that?"
"My aunt always says to watch people's hands during a confrontation," she explained with a small shrug. "The mouth distracts while the hands do the real damage."
"Wise advice," Chris acknowledged. "It looked like an old diary or journal. Probably just petty revenge, something to embarrass the Weasleys later."
Hannah frowned. "Should we tell someone?"
"And say what?" Chris countered gently. "That in the middle of a public fight, we saw Lucius Malfoy maybe put a book in someone's cauldron? We'd sound paranoid at best."
The concern didn't fully leave Hannah's face, but she nodded reluctantly. "I suppose you're right. Still feels wrong though."
The conversation lapsed as they watched a young witch chase after a runaway puffskein that was bouncing determinedly toward Knockturn Alley. When she finally caught it, stuffing the furry creature into her pocket, Hannah checked the delicate watch on her wrist and sighed.
"I should head home. Dad's expecting me by four, and he'll worry if I'm late." She hugged Susan tightly, then turned to Chris, her embrace just as warm. "See you both on the train?"
"We'll save you a seat," Susan promised.
Hannah waved goodbye as she headed toward the public Floo station, her blonde plait swinging behind her. Chris watched her go with genuine fondness. Hannah's straightforward nature and loyalty made her friendship refreshingly uncomplicated.
"I should go too," Susan said, checking her own watch. "Aunt Amelia's meeting me at the Leaky Cauldron in fifteen minutes, and she's never late."
Chris felt a slight tingle of anticipation at the mention of Amelia Bones. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a potentially valuable connection, one worth cultivating carefully. "I'll walk with you," he offered. "I'm heading that way myself."
They set off toward the entrance to the alley, their pace unhurried despite Susan's impending meeting. The crowds had thinned somewhat as the afternoon wore on, many families having completed their shopping and departed.
"So what was your favourite part of today's entertainment?" Chris asked, his tone light. "Lockhart's peacocking or the dignified display of pureblood etiquette from Mr. Malfoy?"
Susan laughed, the sound bright in the warm air. "Both were educational in their own way. Though I'm not sure which lesson my aunt would find more appalling."
"Perhaps you should describe it in detail and find out," Chris suggested, a plan already forming. Amelia Bones was known for her strict professionalism and commitment to justice. If he could engineer a conversation about Lockhart's credentials...
"I just might," Susan agreed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "She appreciates a good story, especially when it involves pompous men making fools of themselves."
As they neared the archway that would take them back to the Leaky Cauldron, Susan's expression grew more serious. "I'm glad we ran into each other today, Chris. Letters are fine, but it's not the same."
"No, it isn't," he agreed, finding the sentiment genuine despite himself. His hands felt oddly warm where they gripped his packages, a pleasant sensation he recognized as simple happiness. For all his scheming and manipulation, these moments of genuine connection remained valuable, anchors to his humanity in the vast ocean of his ambitions.
The brick wall parted before them, revealing the dim interior of the Leaky Cauldron beyond. Susan took a deep breath, as if preparing to transition from the magical chaos of Diagon Alley to the more structured world represented by her formidable aunt.
"Ready?" Chris asked, gesturing toward the opening.
Susan nodded, squaring her shoulders with a determined smile. "Ready."
The Leaky Cauldron embraced them with its familiar dimness, Chris followed Susan through the scattered tables, where afternoon patrons were hunched over drinks and early dinners, their conversations creating a low, comfortable hum. In the farthest corner, partially hidden by the shadow of a gnarled wooden beam, sat a witch whose very posture commanded attention despite her deliberate choice of an unobtrusive location. Amelia Bones straightened almost imperceptibly as she spotted her niece, her monocle catching the light as she turned.
Susan quickened her pace, her face brightening. Chris maintained a respectful distance behind her, studying the woman who headed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Amelia Bones wore simple, tailored robes of deep navy, their severity offset by a silver pin in the shape of scales on her lapel. Her hair was cut in a practical bob that framed a face that was once beautiful, lined by years of difficult decisions and unwavering principles. The monocle she wore seemed less an affectation and more a tool, magnifying her already penetrating gaze.
"Aunt Amelia!" Susan greeted, setting her packages down to embrace the older witch, who returned the gesture with genuine warmth despite her dignified bearing.
"Right on time," Amelia noted with approval, her voice crisp and measured. Her eyes moved past her niece to assess Chris with the efficiency of someone accustomed to making swift character judgments. "And you've brought a friend."
Susan stepped back, gesturing toward Chris. "This is Christopher Emrys, my friend from Hufflepuff I've told you about. Chris, this is my aunt, Madam Amelia Bones."
Chris stepped forward, offering a respectful bow of precisely the right depth, showing appropriate deference to her position without appearing obsequious. "It's an honour to meet you, Madam Bones. Susan speaks of you with great admiration."
Surprise flickered across Amelia's face, there and gone in an instant. Few twelve-year-olds demonstrated such polished manners or spoke with such composed confidence. She extended her hand, which Chris shook firmly.
"Please, join us," she offered, gesturing to the empty chairs. "Susan has indeed mentioned you in her letters. Top of your year, I understand."
Chris settled into the chair with a modest smile. "I enjoy learning. And Susan has been an excellent study partner."
A serving witch approached their table, and Amelia ordered a pot of tea and a plate of scones before turning her attention back to the children. "Did you find everything you needed for the coming term?"
Susan and Chris exchanged a look that contained a wealth of shared amusement. Susan leaned forward, her voice dropping into a low tone. "Oh, Auntie, you should have seen what happened at Flourish and Blotts!"
"That sounds ominous," Amelia remarked dryly, but her expression showed a hint of indulgent affection.
Susan launched into the tale, her natural storytelling abilities transforming the chaotic scene into an entertaining narrative. Her hands gestured animatedly as she described Lockhart's peacocking, her voice dropping to a perfect imitation of his pompous tone when quoting his announcement about teaching at Hogwarts. Chris watched Amelia's reactions carefully, noting the slight tightening around her eyes at the mention of Lucius Malfoy.
"And then…" Susan could barely contain her laughter, "Mr. Weasley actually tackled Mr. Malfoy into a bookshelf! Books everywhere, women screaming, Lockhart diving under his signing table to protect his hair!"
"Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy engaged in physical altercation?" Amelia's eyebrow rose above her monocle. "In public? With witnesses?"
"At least fifty," Chris confirmed, allowing himself a small smile. "Though I suspect the Daily Prophet will minimize Malfoy's role, given his influence with the paper."
Susan continued, mimicking Lucius Malfoy's affronted expression as Hagrid pulled him off Arthur Weasley. By the time she finished, even the typically reserved Amelia had allowed a rare smile to break through her professional demeanor.
"Well," she said, shaking her head slightly as their tea arrived, "I never thought I'd see the day when Arthur Weasley, of all people, would resort to Muggle dueling. Though perhaps it's not surprising, given his fascination with non-magical methods."
Chris accepted his teacup with a quiet "thank you" to the server, waiting until she had moved away before speaking. "The most alarming part of the day wasn't the fight, though," he said carefully, steering the conversation in his intended direction. "It was discovering that Gilderoy Lockhart will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Amelia's cup paused halfway to her lips. "You sound concerned, Mr. Emrys. Not a fan of celebrity professors?"
"I'm not a fan of frauds teaching critical survival skills," Chris replied, his tone respectful but firm. "Especially after last year's disaster with Professor Quirrell."
Susan nodded vigorously. "We had to form our own study group just to learn anything useful. And now they've hired someone whose books are full of contradictions."
"Contradictions?" Amelia set her cup down, her full attention now focused on Chris.
"Numerous ones," Chris confirmed, warming to his subject. "For instance, in Wanderings with Werewolves, Lockhart claims to have cured the Wagga Wagga Werewolf in 1984 using a complex Homorphus Charm. Yet in Holidays with Hags, he describes being in Tibet during those same months, learning secret meditation techniques from magical monks."
Amelia's expression didn't change, but something sharpened in her gaze. "Perhaps a simple error in dates?"
"Perhaps," Chris acknowledged, "but there are dozens of such inconsistencies. In Break with a Banshee, he describes using a Silencing Charm that wouldn't work on banshees due to their non-human vocal structures. And in Gadding with Ghouls, he claims to have trapped a particularly violent specimen using a spell of his own invention that, when analyzed, is arythmatically impossible according to Adalbert Waffling's Fundamental Laws of Magic."
Amelia's eyebrow rose slightly higher. "You've analyzed the spell constructions in his books?"
"I find defensive magic particularly interesting," Chris explained, the perfect image of an earnest student with specialised interests. "But what truly caught my attention was something else entirely."
"Do tell," Amelia prompted, her tea forgotten.
"Last year, I spent time talking with the portraits at Hogwarts, they have fascinating historical insights. One elderly wizard in a portrait near the library told me about his grandson who had defeated a banshee in Cork in 1982 using a specialized containment technique. His description matched, almost word for word, the method Lockhart claims to have used in Break with a Banshee, except Lockhart places the event in 1986 and changes the location to Bandon."
Susan gasped softly beside him, her reaction entirely genuine since this was the first time Chris had shared this particular observation. "You think he's stealing other people's stories?"
"It would explain the inconsistencies," Chris said. "If he's cobbling together adventures that actually belonged to different wizards, occurring at different times..."
Amelia's expression had grown grave. "These are serious allegations, Mr. Emrys."
"I know," Chris acknowledged, leaning forward slightly. "And I wouldn't mention them except... well, Defense Against the Dark Arts is crucial, especially given recent events in the wizarding world. If students are being taught by someone who doesn't actually know how to perform the spells he claims mastery of..."
"Please," Susan added, her earnest expression perfectly complementing Chris's concerned one. "We had such a terrible experience last year. We don't want another year of teaching ourselves."
Amelia studied them both for a long moment, her mind visibly working behind her measured expression. "I appreciate your concern for educational standards," she finally said. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement doesn't typically involve itself in Hogwarts staffing decisions."
Chris nodded, prepared to accept a polite dismissal of his concerns.
"However," Amelia continued, surprising him slightly, "if there's a question of fraud being perpetrated on the public, that does fall within our purview. I'll look into the matter discreetly."
"Thank you, Madam Bones," Chris said, genuine appreciation in his voice. "I just want to make sure we're learning real defensive skills."
"A commendable priority," Amelia observed, approval warming her typically stern features. "Susan is fortunate in her choice of friends."
The conversation shifted to more general topics as they finished their tea, but Chris noted with satisfaction that Amelia's gaze returned to him periodically with thoughtful assessment. He had accomplished his goal, planting the seed that would, with proper nurturing, remove Lockhart from Hogwarts before he could do any real damage.
More importantly, he had made a positive impression on one of the most powerful and principled members of the Ministry, a potential ally whose integrity and authority might prove invaluable in the future.
The conversation with Amelia Bones concluded with handshakes and promises to see each other at the Hogwarts Express send off. Chris excused himself politely, leaving Susan to spend time alone with her aunt. He made his way through the now-crowded pub, nodding to Tom the barkeeper as he approached the row of large fireplaces that lined the back wall. Each hearth flickered with emerald flames as witches and wizards came and went, some appearing in a swirl of green fire, others vanishing with a whoosh and a clearly articulated destination.
A small queue had formed before the largest fireplace. Chris took his place behind a witch wearing a hat adorned with what looked like a stuffed pheasant, its glass eyes staring accusingly at him as she disappeared in a flash of green. The wizard ahead of him, a portly man with an impressive moustache, stepped forward next, calling out "Ministry of Magic!" before the flames swallowed him whole.
When his turn came, Chris stepped onto the hearth, the rough stone warm beneath his shoes. He reached into the flower pot mounted on the wall, its contents glittering with the unmistakable sheen of Floo powder. Taking a pinch between his fingers, he tossed it into the flames, which instantly roared higher and turned emerald green.
"Ambrosia Manor," he whispered softly but clearly, stepping into the magical fire.
The sensation of Floo travel remained disorienting despite his extensive experience with it. The world dissolved into a spinning kaleidoscope of fireplaces, brief glimpses of strange rooms whirling past too quickly to register. Chris kept his elbows tucked tightly against his sides, his packages secured firmly against his chest as he spun through the network. The trick, he'd learned, was not to fight the motion but to surrender to it, letting the magic carry him to his destination.
The spinning slowed suddenly, and Chris stepped forward with practiced timing, emerging gracefully into the grand entrance hall of Ambrosia Manor. The cavernous space greeted him with blessed quiet after the noise of Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. Marble floors gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight that streamed through tall windows, casting long shadows across intricate patterns inlaid with precious stones.
"Master has returned," came Jilly's voice as the house elf appeared with a soft pop. She wore her usual impeccable uniform adorned with the Ambrosia crest, her large amber eyes immediately assessing him for any needs. "Shall Jilly take Master's packages to his room?"
"Thank you, Jilly," Chris replied, handing over his books and other purchases. "I'll take dinner in the small dining room at seven, please. Something light."
With another bow and pop, Jilly disappeared to carry out his instructions. Chris stretched, feeling tension he hadn't fully registered begin to dissipate. He raised his wrist and tapped the silver bracelet twice, deactivating the glamour that had subtly altered his appearance all day. A pleasant tingling sensation washed over him as the magic receded, allowing his true features to emerge. Though the changes were somewhat minor, slightly more defined facial structure, more vibrant sapphire eyes, taller and a more commanding presence, the relief of returning to his natural state was significant.
He made his way to his private study, a room that had become his sanctuary within the vast manor. Unlike the more formal spaces designed to impress visitors, this room reflected his personal tastes: comfortable leather chairs, walls lined with books chosen for utility rather than appearance, and a large desk positioned to catch the best natural light. A globe in the corner softly glowed with magical locations, and star charts hung from a magical mobile above a reading nook.
Chris settled into his favorite chair, reviewing the day's accomplishments with satisfaction. The meeting with Harry Potter had gone even better than anticipated. The boy now had access to his full inheritance and knowledge of his godfather, both significant blows to Dumbledore's careful management. The Headmaster would soon discover that his financial control over the Boy Who Lived had been severed, forcing him to adjust his plans and potentially revealing more of his hand in the process.
"Two birds, one stone," Chris murmured, smiling faintly.
Then there was Lockhart. Chris had little doubt that Amelia Bones would investigate his claims thoroughly. The woman's reputation for meticulous attention to detail and unwavering pursuit of justice was well-earned. Once she discovered the truth about Lockhart's fraudulent books, and she would, given the breadth of evidence, the man's tenure at Hogwarts would be mercifully brief. The students would be spared months of incompetent instruction, and Chris would gain an ally in the formidable Head of the DMLE.
Second year would undoubtedly bring its own adventures, but for now, Christopher Emrys Ambrosia, heir of Merlin, allowed himself to simply be a boy who'd had a satisfying day and was looking forward to returning to school.