Chapter 495: Crookshanks

Because of a young wizard’s birthday.

Several young wizards returned to London too early.

So the task of purchasing new semester books was moved up on the schedule.

In the third-to-last week of summer, Diagon Alley filled with a small group of Hogwarts students, as the new term approached.

In the Quidditch Supplies shop, Wizard Sean saw two Gryffindors: Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, staring longingly at what appeared to be a new broom.

Outside Flourish and Blotts, Wizard Sean met Neville, who stammered that he thought he’d arrived too early.

Wizard Sean murmured it might be just right—they could each have a raspberry ice cream.

But Neville wasn’t the only one who came early; outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, Ron’s freckles stood out sharply, Hermione was deeply tanned, and both were waving frantically at them.

“Good morning, Wizard Sean! And Neville.”

Ron grinned at them, then sat down swiftly.

“Where’s Harry? Please, Wizard Sean, doesn’t he live in Diagon Alley?”

No sooner had he spoken than Harry’s delighted voice rang out from afar:

“You’re all here!”

As Harry hurried over, Justin could also be seen emerging from beside a shop farther down the street.

“Harry, you… did you really blow up your aunt?”

Hermione asked with grave seriousness.

The question stirred everyone’s curiosity.

“It wasn’t me.”

Harry said.

Before Fudge, he wasn’t willing to explain further—he thought if punishment came, it was better he bear it than Wizard Sean, since Wizard Sean had come to help him.

But with his friends, he was honest.

“What kind of magic was it? Can I learn it?”

Ron exclaimed in awe.

“This isn’t a joke, Ron!”

Hermione said sharply,

“Honestly, you—”

Hermione turned to Wizard Sean, eyeing him suspiciously,

“Why didn’t they catch you on the spot?”

“Wizard Sean used his grandfather’s wand.”

Harry muttered.

That’s why they mistook him.

But what if he hadn’t been there?

Harry wondered—would the Ministry have had no one to arrest?

In that case, he’d only been in the way.

“Grandfather?”

Hermione was baffled; Justin was equally confused.

How could they remember so clearly that Wizard Sean had no relatives…

“Well, I heard they didn’t punish you?

I guess it’s because of who you are, right?”

Ron shrugged.

“The famous Harry Potter, and…”

I can’t imagine what the Ministry would do to me if I blew up my aunt.

Let me tell you, they’d have to dig me out of the ground first—Mom would’ve killed me already.

Anyway, you can ask my dad yourself tonight. We’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron too!

Even though we came back early from Egypt, Dad agreed we could spend a few days in Diagon Alley!”

“Brilliant!”

Harry said happily,

“So, should we buy new textbooks or new equipment first?”

Everyone instinctively turned their gaze to Wizard Sean.

At that moment, Wizard Sean was still pondering the magical ritual for the Brightlight Charm.

“How about we buy a pet first?”

Hermione said calmly,

“I really want an owl. Look, Harry has Hedwig, you have Errol—”

“I don’t,”

Ron said,

“Errol belongs to the whole family. I only have Scabbers.”

Ron pulled out his pet rat from his pocket.

“I want to get him checked,”

he said, placing Scabbers on the table before them,

“He seemed a bit off after Egypt.”

Scabbers looked thinner than ever, his whiskers noticeably drooping.

“Then…”

Justin smiled at Wizard Sean, who put down his book and nodded.

“Then let’s go. I remember…”

Ron eagerly scanned the street.

“You mean… there’s a magical creatures shop over there?”

Harry said—he’d learned Diagon Alley well in just a few days,

“You can see what they can do for Scabbers, and Hermione can buy her owl.”

“Yes! That’s the one!”

Ron slapped his forehead.

So they paid for their ice cream and crossed the street toward the magical creatures shop.

The shop was tiny, its walls crammed with cages, the air thick with odor and noise as the creatures inside shrieked, chirped, or hissed.

Behind the counter, a witch was instructing a wizard on how to care for a two-tailed newt; the group waited nearby, studying the cages closely.

Two enormous purple toads gorged themselves on dead blowflies, saliva dripping from their jaws.

A giant tortoise sat by the window, its shell gleaming like a jewel. Toxic orange snails crept slowly along the glass walls of a tank.

On the counter stood a large cage, where sleek black rats, their bald tails held aloft, played a leaping game.

The wizard who bought the two-tailed newt left; Ron stepped up to the counter.

“My rat,”

he told the witch,

“Since I brought him back from Egypt, his color’s been off.”

“Put him on the counter.”

The witch said, pulling a pair of thick black glasses from her pocket.

Ron pulled Scabbers from inside his coat and placed him beside the large cage of rats. The rats stopped their game and crowded to the bars, scrutinizing Scabbers closely.

Scabbers, like every possession Ron owned, was secondhand—originally belonging to Ron’s older brother Percy—and bore the look of long-term abuse.

Compared to the glossy, well-kept rats in the cage, he looked pitifully shabby.

“Hmm,”

the witch picked up Scabbers,

“How old is this rat?”

“I don’t know,”

Ron said,

“He’s old. He belonged to my brother before.”

“What can he do?”

The witch examined Scabbers closely.

“Uh—”

Ron stammered.

In truth, Scabbers had never shown the slightest hint of any interesting ability.

The witch’s gaze moved from Scabbers’ torn left ear to his front paw, where a toe was missing; she clicked her tongue loudly.

“This rat’s been through a lot.”

She said.

“That’s how Percy gave him to me.”

Ron said dejectedly.

“A common rat or garden rat can live at most about three years.”

The witch said,

“I say, if you want something that lives longer, you might consider choosing one from these...”

She pointed to the black rats, which immediately resumed their leaping game. Ron muttered:

“Show-off.”

“Well, if you don’t want to swap, try this rat-strengthening potion.”

The witch said, leaning down to pull a small red bottle from beneath the counter.

“Alright,”

Ron said,

“How much—ouch!”

A large ginger beast suddenly leapt from the top of the highest cage, landing on Ron’s head and nearly knocking him flat.

The beast reared up, snarling fiercely at Scabbers.

“No!”

The witch cried, but Scabbers shot out of her hand like a bar of soap, landed on his back on the floor, then sprang up and bolted for the door.

“Scabbers!”

Ron shouted, chasing after him out of the shop, Harry following close behind.

“I like this cat,”

Hermione suddenly said to Wizard Sean and Jia Jia Siting.