Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from The Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide back seat.
    ‘Don’t get used to it, it’s only because of Harry,’ said Mr Weasley over his shoulder. He and Mrs Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa. ‘He’s been given top-grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron, too.’
    Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors. He had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack and felt that, if that was good enough for Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now he came to think of it, he was not sure the Ministry knew about his Cloak.
    ‘Here you are, then,’ said the driver a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. ‘I’m to wait for you, any idea how long you’ll be?’
    ‘A couple of hours, I expect,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘Ah, good, he’s here!’
    Harry imitated Mr Weasley and peered through the window; his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry’s face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.
    ‘Harry!’ he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of the car. ‘Buckbeak – Witherwings, I mean – yeh should see him, Harry, he’s so happy ter be back in the open air –’
    ‘Glad he’s pleased,’ said Harry, grinning as he massaged his ribs. ‘We didn’t know “security” meant you!’
    ‘I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I’d do,’ said Hagrid proudly, throwing out his chest and tucking his thumbs into his pockets. ‘Let’s get goin’, then – after yeh, Molly, Arthur –’
    The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry’s memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly, ‘Jus’ passin’ through today, Tom, sure yeh understand. Hogwarts business, yeh know.’
    Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses; Harry, Hermione, Hagrid and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway on to a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.
    Diagon Alley had changed. The colourful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these sombre purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:
     
    Amulets: Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors and Inferi
     
    A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passers-by.
    ‘One for your little girl, madam?’ he called at Mrs Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny. ‘Protect her pretty neck?’
    ‘If I were on duty …’ said Mr Weasley, glaring angrily at the amulet seller.
    ‘Yes, but don’t go arresting anyone now, dear, we’re in a hurry,’ said Mrs Weasley, nervously consulting a list. ‘I think we’d better do Madam Malkin’s first, Hermione wants new dress robes and Ron’s showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones