They send me away to find them a fortune

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

𝕀𝕋 was a bright, lively day in Hogsmeade, and the streets of Diagon Alley were buzzing with the usual hustle and bustle. Crowds of witches and wizards filled the cobbled lanes, chattering excitedly as they wandered in and out of the many shops. The atmosphere was electric, but one shop in particular was packed with more people than usual, drawing in curious glances from passersby.

Hermes Granger stepped out into the warm sunlight, pausing to take in the scene before him. His eyes immediately caught sight of two familiar figures making their way down the street—Hagrid, towering as always, and beside him, Harry Potter. A smile spread across Hermes' face, and without hesitation, he jogged toward them, his heart lifting at the sight of his friend.

"Harry! Hagrid!" Hermes called out, beaming as he reached them.

Hagrid's booming voice greeted him with a chuckle. "Hello there, Hermes!" His eyes twinkled warmly as he looked down at the young wizard. Hermes turned to Harry, his smile widening. "It's so good to see you," he said, his voice full of genuine warmth. Harry, slightly shorter than Hermes but just as happy, grinned back.

"It's great to see you too," Harry replied, his tone light but grateful.

As they stood there, Hermes noticed something amiss—Harry's glasses, cracked right across the lens. He raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. "What did you do to your glasses, Harry?" he asked, half-amused, before sighing and pulling out his wand.

Without waiting for a response, Hermes waved his wand expertly and muttered, "Oculus Reparo." A soft shimmer of magic flowed from the tip of his wand, sealing the cracks in Harry's glasses until they were as good as new.

Harry chuckled, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. "I definitely need to remember that one," he quipped, shaking his head in disbelief at how effortless it seemed when Hermes did it. Hagrid let out a hearty laugh, the sound booming through the busy street. "You'll be alright now, then, Harry?" he asked, looking down fondly at the two boys. "Right, I'll leave you to it," he added with a smile, giving them both a wave before lumbering off into the crowd.

Hermes and Harry waved after him, exchanging a glance filled with warmth and gratitude. Once Hagrid disappeared from sight, Hermes wasted no time, grabbing Harry by the arm.

"Come on," Hermes urged, his voice suddenly more serious. "Everyone's been so worried about you."

With that, the two friends headed toward the packed shop, the buzz of Diagon Alley continuing around them, but for now, their world was just the two of them, reunited once again amidst the magic and the wonder of their world.

Hermes and Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore buzzing with energy. It was packed, mostly with women who were chatting excitedly as they waited in a long line. The shelves were barely visible behind the crowd, and the air was filled with the scent of parchment and ink, mingled with the excited murmurs of those waiting for something—or someone.

As they made their way further into the store, Harry and Hermes spotted the familiar sight of the Weasley family. Molly Weasley's relieved voice cut through the noise as she rushed forward. "Harry! Thank goodness. We'd hoped you'd only gone one grate too far," she exclaimed, dusting off the ash from Harry's robes. Harry smiled warmly at her fussing, though he barely had time to respond before the sound of a voice commanded everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart!" the announcement rang out, and the crowd erupted into applause.

A tall man stepped forward, blonde hair impeccably styled, his light blue suit almost gleaming under the store's enchanted lighting. His expression was smug, as though the applause were simply his due. Gilderoy Lockhart smiled, waving graciously, and Molly Weasley quickly tried to fix her hair, clearly starstruck. Beside her, Ron leaned over to Harry, muttering under his breath, "Mum fancies him." His comment earned him a light slap on the chest from his mother, but his words drew a chuckle from Harry and Hermes.

Suddenly, a man with a camera bustled through the crowd, nearly bumping into the group. "Make way there, please! Let me by, madam. Thank you. Excuse me, little girl," he muttered, waving his camera as he pushed forward. "This is for the Daily Prophet."

The photographer aimed his camera at Lockhart, and a blinding flash followed, capturing the author's practiced pose. But as the light faded, Lockhart's gaze landed squarely on Harry.

"It can't be. Harry Potter?" Gilderoy exclaimed theatrically, and within moments, the man with the camera was dragging Harry toward the stage, ignoring Harry's protests. "Harry Potter! Excuse me, madam!" Harry stumbled as Gilderoy grabbed his arm, pulling him beside him.

"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart said, flashing his dazzling grin. "Together, you and I rate the front page."

The camera flashed again, but Harry remained frozen, not smiling but clearly shocked by the attention. Gilderoy, unperturbed, beamed at the crowd and continued, "Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning... to purchase my autobiography, Magical Me..."

The crowd erupted in cheers, women swooning at every word, except for Ron and Hermes, who exchanged bewildered glances as they clapped half-heartedly. Ron looked around at the adoring crowd, his expression one of disbelief, as though the world had gone mad.

"...which, incidentally," Lockhart continued with a smug flourish, "is currently celebrating its 27th week atop the Daily Prophet bestseller list!"

The applause grew even louder, though high above, Draco Malfoy stood on the balcony, his Slytherin robes hanging darkly around him. He watched the scene unfold with a scowl, his sharp eyes narrowing.

Gilderoy, oblivious to anyone who wasn't cheering for him, smiled wider. "...and Harry had no idea that he would, in fact, be leaving with my entire collected works... free of charge!" With another dramatic gesture, he handed Harry a stack of books. A camera flashed again, capturing the moment for posterity.

As the applause died down and Gilderoy returned to his desk to begin signing books, Harry, looking overwhelmed, slipped back to the Weasley family. Molly smiled at him, taking the pile of books from his arms. "Harry, now you give me those, and I'll get them signed. All of you wait outside. That's it."

As the group made their way out of the crowd, Draco moved down the stairs, casually tearing a page from a book and slipping it into his pocket. His cold, calculating gaze found Harry as they neared the exit. Stepping into their path, Draco sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "I'll bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

But before Harry could respond, a voice drifted down from the upper floor, smooth and dripping with mischief. "Why, you're jealous, Malfoy?"

Everyone turned, their attention captured by the figure standing on the staircase above. A girl in Slytherin robes leaned lazily against the railing, her chin resting in her palm. She smiled, a playful, almost dangerous glint in her mist-coloured eyes, which had flecks of green that gleamed in the dim light. Her silver hair was loosely braided, a few strands falling against her face, giving her an effortless, untamed look. She held two books, 'Dark Arts' and 'Magical Creatures' in one hand, the other arm draped casually over the railing.

Ophelia Gaunt.

Her presence seemed to shift the air in the room, a combination of elegance and defiance. There was a spark of amusement in her eyes as she watched the scene unfold, clearly relishing the tension between Draco and Harry.

Draco's smirk faltered for just a moment as he glanced up at Ophelia. "Stay out of this, Gaunt," he muttered, though there was an edge to his voice that betrayed his unease.

Ophelia only smiled wider, tilting her head slightly as she descended the stairs with an almost feline grace. "Touchy, aren't we?" she purred, her tone teasing, her eyes never leaving Draco's.

Hermes's smile faded the moment his eyes landed on Ophelia, the flicker of warmth instantly replaced by a familiar, cold irritation. Of all the people he could've run into, it had to be her. The insufferably smug Slytherin who lived to undermine him at every turn. She wasn't just an academic rival—she was a thorn in his side, relentless and infuriating.

"Ophelia," Hermes greeted coolly, his voice tight with restrained disdain.

She glanced down at him with a smirk that curled like smoke, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Granger," she replied, tone dripping with mockery. "I thought I smelled mediocrity."

Hermes exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tightening. "Still relying on cheap insults, I see. Must be compensating for something."

Ophelia gave an exaggerated shrug, flipping the two books in her hand like they were weapons. "Oh, I don't need to compensate. You do that for both of us—tripping over your ego and all."

The air between them crackled with open contempt, the kind born not of friendly competition but years of outshining and undercutting, of stolen praise and sabotaged essays. The two had been locked in an academic war since their first year, and neither had any intention of surrendering.

As Ophelia's gaze flicked briefly between Draco and Harry, her smirk remained razor-sharp, but Hermes could see it—the glint in her eye. That cold calculation. That ever-present hunger to win.

Before Draco could respond to Harry's presence, he heard a familiar voice behind him, cool and sharp like the hiss of a snake.

"Ophelia," Draco said, his lips curling into a smirk as he eyed her from his spot on the stairs, "I see you're still hanging around with the riffraff."

Ophelia, leaning against the railing like a queen on a throne, raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, Malfoy? Or upset your charm only works on family house-elves?"

Draco's smirk faltered for a heartbeat, but then a hand touched his shoulder—slow, deliberate, and cold. Lucius Malfoy appeared beside him, all grace and menace.

"Now, now, Draco, play nicely," Lucius said smoothly, guiding his son aside. Draco obeyed, stepping higher as Lucius descended with predatory elegance.

"Mr. Potter," Lucius said, extending a hand toward Harry. "Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last."

Harry took his hand with visible reluctance. The handshake was firm but cold. Lucius drew him slightly closer.

"Forgive me," he said with a serpentine hiss, "Your scar is legend. As, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you."

Harry's jaw clenched. "Voldemort killed my parents. He was nothing more than a murderer."

Lucius's smile thinned. "You must be very brave to say his name. Or very foolish."

Before the tension could stretch further, Hermes cut in, voice even but sharp. "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." Lucius's gaze shifted to Hermes, assessing. "And you must be Mr. Granger. Yes, Draco has told me all about you. And your...parents." The pause was calculated.

Ophelia's chuckle sliced through the moment like glass. She looked down lazily from the railing. "Oh, Lucius, careful now. You wouldn't want to frighten the boy by reminding him some of us weren't spoon-fed privilege and prejudice."

Lucius's eyes narrowed, but his posture remained untouched. If anything, he gave her a small bow. "Miss Gaunt. A pleasure."

Ophelia returned the nod with a smile that was anything but warm. Her name carried weight—and she knew it.

"Likewise, Mr. Malfoy," she said smoothly. "Though I suppose even the most self-important aristocrats must eventually brush shoulders with the rest of us. Especially when books are involved."

Lucius let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Indeed, Miss Gaunt."

Then, turning his attention to the Weasleys, his lip curled with disdain. "Let me see. Red hair, vacant expressions..." He plucked the battered book from Ginny's hands with an elegant sneer. "...Tatty, second-hand book. You must be the Weasleys."

Arthur stepped forward protectively. "Children. It's mad in here. Let's go outside."

Lucius's smirk deepened. "Well, well, well. Weasley senior. Busy time at the Ministry? I do hope they're paying you enough for all the humiliation."

Arthur's eyes darkened. "We have a different idea of disgrace, Malfoy."

Lucius replied smoothly, "Clearly," before casting a sneer toward the nearby Grangers. "Associating with Muggles." He dropped the book back into Ginny's arms, but Ophelia's sharp eyes caught the movement—another book, dark and unmarked, slipped into her possession. She said nothing. Lucius turned again to Ophelia. "Miss Gaunt," he said, this time more deferentially, before striding out.

Draco shot one last smug look at Harry. "See you at school, Potter." Then they were gone.

Hermes, who had been silent through the exchange, finally spoke. "The Malfoys never disappoint. Always so... theatrical."

Ophelia turned to him with a slow smirk, her tone pure venom. "You could take notes, Granger. But I doubt even a thousand footnotes could save your delivery."

Hermes raised a brow, arms crossed. "I don't need delivery. Just results. Which, last I checked, still had me ranked first." Her smile turned feral. "Enjoy it while it lasts. One wrong step, and I'll be there to take your place."

"Try not to trip over your ego on the way up," Hermes replied coldly. "See you at Hogwarts."

Ophelia gave him a mock-curtsy. "Count on it. I'll be watching."

The tension between them remained sharp as blades as they parted ways—not as friendly rivals, but as bitter adversaries already bracing for their next duel in class, in wit, or in war.

⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

By: SilverMist707