Chapter 16- A day out.

Friday, July 7, 1995

The late-morning sun shone brightly down on the streets of London. The weather was ideal for an outing-clear and mild with a dazzling blue sky, puffy white clouds, and just enough of a breeze to keep things from getting stuffy.

Harry Potter closed his eyes, and turned his face toward the sun for a few seconds while waiting for his chance to cross the street. Days like today were a rare treat. Until now, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed being outside. Now that he thought about it, he'd been inside the Leaky Cauldron for five whole days. Harry signed contentedly as the sun warmed his thin face, and the breeze tugged at his shaggy hair. Too bad he couldn't risk flying on his broomstick. If he could just have a go on his Firebolt, things would be just about perfect.

The traffic signal changed, and Harry hurried across the street and down the sidewalk with the rest of the pedestrians, taking note of the book stores, music stores, and hamburger restaurants he passed. Perhaps he could explore them later, but right now he was heading for a nearby Underground station. The very station, Harry remembered fondly, that he and Rubeus Hagrid had traveled to when he'd visited the Leaky Cauldron for the first time. As he continued on his way, Harry wondered absently how the half-giant was doing. It sounded as though Dumbledore was planning to send Hagrid and Madame Maxime as emissaries to the giants, to try and prevent Voldemort from gaining their support. The boy hoped all was well with his friend. When Hedwig returned, he would send him a letter.

Harry rolled his eyes a little as he reached his destination, and followed a group of people downstairs. Looking back now, it was hard to believe how utterly unprepared he'd been for his first contact with the wizarding world. He remembered looking up at Hagrid after reading the list of required supplies for his first year at Hogwarts. "Can we buy all this in London?" he'd asked in amazed disbelief. It just didn't seem possible.

"If yeh know where to go," Hagrid had replied, a merry twinkle in his beetle black eyes.

Harry still hadn't been completely convinced. He knew London was a large city, with plentiful and diverse shopping areas, but really! A cauldron? A wand? Dragon-hide gloves? Harry had balked a little at the concept.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had known he was a wizard, of course, but they'd kept everything from him, and grown angry whenever he tried to ask questions. They'd claimed that James and Lily Potter's deaths, and Harry's lightning bolt scar had been caused by a car crash. All his life Harry had listened to Uncle Vernon bellow, "There's no such thing as magic!" It had been hard, at first, to accept that magic was real. Harry had spent his first few hours with Hagrid terrified that this was either some colossal joke, or else a highly detailed and wondrous dream. Any minute he had expected to wake, and find himself back with the Dursleys in the dilapidated little hut on the rock.

The idea of magic, however, was nothing compared to the reaction he'd set off at the Leaky Cauldron. When Tom had realized who he was, and blurted his name, a hush had fallen over the tavern. Witches and wizards had clustered around him, wanting to shake his hand and welcome him back. He'd been told more times than he could count what an honor it was to meet him. After almost four years, he was becoming more accustomed to it, but even now, Harry found his fame disorienting. His sudden celebrity had contributed more to his culture shock than talking mirrors, ghosts, moving staircases, flying cars, and Mountain Trolls combined.

Harry picked up a map of the London Underground at the ticket counter, bought his pass, and headed for the platform. It's all rubbish, anyway, he thought, as he watched a train pull into the station. He rather doubted that he was all the wizarding world made him out to be, but he also like to think that he wasn't as utterly contemptible as his relatives claimed. At least he hoped he wasn't. In the muggle world, the Dursleys thought of him as an embarrassment...a burden. His very presence in their house was a dirty little secret that they went to great lengths to hide. Harry shrugged philosophically. The truth was somewhere between those two extremes-hopefully closer to the good end, though sometimes he wasn't sure.

Harry entered the train when the doors slid open, and chose a seat by a window. He smiled lightly, once again reminded of the kindly half-giant, and how he'd carried on about dragons, and parking meters, and muggle transportation methods. Harry knew he had been very lucky to have Hagrid as a guide, and wondered briefly how muggleborns like Hermione managed to cope. Actually, Harry realized, he'd never given the matter much thought. Hermione had always seemed so knowledgeable and in control, he'd never thought to ask how she reacted when she'd received her Hogwarts letter. Harry frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged. Perhaps he would ask Dr. Granger.

A few last minute passengers boarded before the doors slid shut, and the train pulled out of the station. Harry watched through the window, until the train entered the tunnel leading to the next stop. When his view was restricted to a concrete wall, Harry turned from the window, and fished his shopping list and directions our of his shirt pocket.

When he'd finished his correspondence the day before, Harry had taken a good hard look at his belongings, and made a shopping list. It was a bit more extensive than he had expected, but it couldn't be helped. He needed socks, shoes, glasses, underthings, toiletries, and all his clothing needed to be replaced-even his Hogwarts uniforms.

The young wizard chuckled softly when he remembered trying to get dressed earlier that morning. He'd decided to wear his school uniform shirt and trousers, so he wouldn't look like a complete ragamuffin, and had been utterly shocked to find his arms and legs longer than his clothes! Perhaps that was the cause of that annoying soreness he'd had. He could still get into his shoes, though his toes just barely fit, and he seemed to be the same size around the middle, but his shirt felt a little tight across the shoulders. He was definitely showing some ankle and wrist as well.

He'd purchased that uniform...when? Summer before third year? Last summer? Harry shook his head impatiently. It didn't matter. The point was, Madame Malkin had allowed plenty of growing room. If his shirt sleeves and trouser legs had been any longer, he might have lost house points for sloppiness. Now that he thought about it, by the end of last term, his sleeves seemed to creep up his arms, and the legs of his trousers were just barely brushing the tops of his shoes. He'd just been too distracted to notice. Glancing at his laundry pile, Harry also noted that he hadn't needed to roll up the sleeves and trouser legs of the muggle clothing he had worn yesterday. Harry had been wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs since school let out, so he really hadn't noticed his new height.

In the end he had changed out of his outgrown uniform, and donned one of his older muggle outfits instead. Either way he was no fashion plate, but, in Harry's opinion, clothing that was too large, but close to the proper length looked less stupid than clothing that was too short. The boy glanced down at his attire and shuddered slightly. Dudley's old clothes were so large he hoped he never completely grew into them.

It was amazing, really, Harry had thought, as he studied his reflection in the mirror. He couldn't believe it. Because of the TriWizard Tournament, he had spent quite a bit of time this past school year so nervous he was almost physically ill. His diet and eating habits suffered when he was worried, sad, angry or depressed. He tended to close in on himself and go off food, but evidently he had gotten enough, hence his little growth spurt.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so amazing after all. Ron, Hermione, and what seemed like half of Gryffindor Tower-Ron's family, the Quidditch Team, and his dorm-mates to name a few-knew this was a quirk of his, and usually pestered him into eating at least a little, even when he didn't want to. Plus, he'd certainly been getting enough to eat since he'd been at the Leaky Cauldron. I really am lucky to have such good friends, Harry thought as the train sped thorough the tunnel. A determined little frown crept onto his face, and he lifted his chin almost defiantly. He'd do whatever he had to. No one else was going to get hurt because of him if he had anything to say about it.

The train began to slow as it pulled into the next station. Harry glanced quickly at his Underground map, then at the directions Dr. Granger had given him. He was on the right line, but there were still a few stops before he got to the one he wanted.

When Harry had placed the call to the Granger residence that morning, he'd been prepared to confess to Hermione. He couldn't see any way out of it. He had reckoned she'd want an explanation when he rung her up, then asked to borrow her mum, but that hadn't happened. He had fretted over whether he was calling too early, but he'd caught Helen Granger at home alone. Hermione and her dad were already off on their annual all-day father-daughter outing, and Helen wasn't expecting them back until supper or later. "Hermione will be sorry she missed you, Harry, though I must say, an owl last night, and now a call? Do you have designs on my daughter, Mr. Potter?" she had teased.

Harry was sure she must have been able to hear him blushing through the phone. "She got my note already?" he had asked, neatly sidestepping the question and trying to sound surprised.

"Yes indeed. She was very happy to hear from you. So you're a working man now, are you?"

"Yes ma'am. Actually, erm, actually, that was part of the reason I called," Harry said, then plunged on before he could change his mind. "I need to buy some clothes and things, for the job I mean, and since you live in London, I was wondering if you could recommend some stores?"

"You're coming all the way to London?" Dr. Granger had sounded puzzled. "Wouldn't it be easier to just visit some shops down in Surrey?"

Oh, right. She thinks I'm still in Little Whinging. Harry thought fast. "I have to go to Gringott's and change some of the money in my vault into pounds," he said. It was the truth, after all. The wizard bank opened soon, and he was planning to go there as soon as he hung up. "I need muggle clothes, so I figured I'd just do my shopping in the city."

Dr, Granger had paused, mulling over his words. "You're coming to London alone?" she asked, seeking clarification.

"Yes. My supervisor let me have today off to take care of it."

"But why... What I mean is, where are... Umm..." Helen hadn't known how to phrase the question she wanted to ask without sounding completely tactless.

Harry had understood, though. He had replied in what he hoped was a casual voice, "My aunt and uncle aren't available at the moment. I'm sorry to trouble you, but this came up rather suddenly, and you did say I could call..." Harry trailed off and began to lose confidence when her shocked silence continued to hum over the line. "Never mind, then. I...I just thought the trip might go a little smoother if I talked to someone who knew where things were-I'm more familiar with Diagon Alley than London. Could I try to ring Hermione another time?"

"What? Oh! No, wait, Harry," Helen had said, realizing he'd misinterpreted her lack of response. "I'm sorry. Of course you can call on us any time. I was just a little surprised that you're being allowed out on your own."

"Well, I'm sure this isn't anyone's first choice, but there it is," the young wizard replied frankly.

"Too true," Helen agreed, then brightened.

Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and observing idly as the train reached the next stop. It seemed Dr. Granger had plans of her own. She was going to spend some time at her office that morning, and run errands in the afternoon. Quick as you could say "Bob's your uncle", he had an engagement to go shopping with his best friend's mother, complete with a luncheon date. He still wasn't quite sure how that had happened. He'd only meant to get some advice, and maybe some directions when he called, but Helen was harder to argue with than Hermione was. As a result, he was getting a later start than he'd planned. Dr. Granger had some work to do, he had to allow himself time to "get to London from Surrey."

The boy raised a bemused eyebrow. He now knew where Hermione's way of speaking very quickly when she got enthusiastic or excited about something came from. He was also beginning to suspect that Dr. Granger was just as adept as her daughter was at assimilating information and putting things together. If he didn't want her guessing his situation, he'd have to stay on his toes. Harry frowned moodily out the window as the train continued on its way, and wondered if it would be more efficient to just confess now and get it over with.

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When he got to his stop, Harry exited the train, made his way up to the street, and set out for the dental office that the Grangers were partners in. Helen's directions were very good, so in no time at all, the Gryffindor found himself in a neat, cheerfully decorated waiting room. After a brief conversation with the receptionist, Dr. Granger came hurrying up from the back.

"Sorry, Harry. I'm almost finished. Why don't you come on back?" she invited.

Harry nodded good naturedly, and followed her back into one of the examination rooms. Once there, he looked curiously around at the various machines, and gleaming tools, while Dr. Granger finished sorting the files she had been working on. "Thinking of a career in dentistry, Harry?" Helen asked with a smile, noting his interest.

When Harry had flushed, and haltingly admitted that he'd never seen such things before, Helen had been scandalized. Harry had been unceremoniously plunked down in the examination chair, and Helen had quickly checked him over for any soft spots or weaknesses. Accustomed to dealing with Hermione when she got a bee in her bonnet, Harry had thought it best not to argue, and had submitted to her probing and scraping without protest.

"Well, I must say, Harry, you either take exceptionally good care of yourself, or you're blessed with really good genes," Dr. Granger said a few minutes later. "Nevertheless, you should be having proper exams and cleanings. If you'd rather go to a dental office closer to your home, that's fine, but don't neglect your teeth."

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