For the first hour, Harry thought Diagon Alley and being famous were both brilliant. He could have done without the Floo, but the man behind the bar had recognized him almost at once, and then everyone in the Leaky Cauldron surrounded him, happy to see him and shaking his hand. He'd never had such a reception anywhere, and he'd been disappointed when Sirius broke through the circle and laid a hand on his shoulder; all of the grins turned to suspicious or angry glares, and a few people started muttering behind their hands. Harry turned and craned his neck to get a look at his godfather's face, but Sirius gave no indication of having noticed the change.

Harry tried to run in every direction at once when they entered Diagon Alley, but Sirius kept them on a (mostly) straight path to Gringotts, where Harry stared at the goblins and tried to glimpse a dragon on the ride down. His mouth fell open when he saw the piles of coins in his parents' vault.

"It's all yours, mate." Sirius leaned down and held out a small, gold key. "I'm going to give this to you. You've got to keep it safe, but it means you can come and take all the money you want, no matter what."

Harry took the key and stared at it for a moment before stuffing at the bottom of one of the pockets in his robes—which, true to Sirius's word, fit him almost perfectly. He bent down to scoop, but Sirius laid a hand on his shoulder.

"As long as you're with me, you won't have to worry about money. Keep your key safe, but you won't need it yet."

They rode the cart down to Sirius's vault, which was just as full. Sirius filled a pouch with coins and handed it to Harry before filling a larger bag of his own.

After Gringotts, Sirius set them in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supplies, but Harry wanted to see the Apothecary first, no matter how many times his godfather assured him that it was all "completely normal and boring potions supplies." But he had to get a closer look at the pickled toad brains.

"Is that really a unicorn's horn?" Harry asked, smudging the glass case with this fingers and nose.

Sirius bent down to look.

"Seems so."

"And there, in those jars, that's dragon's blood?"

"That's what the sign says."

"And those coiled things, that's dragon heartstring?"

"Not much good all dried out like that."

But Harry had already moved on to the next shelf. "What's that?"

"Preserved garden gnome. There aren't many potions that use that sort of thing, probably why there's so much dust on the jar."

And finally, Harry allowed himself to be dragged into the Quidditch store, where Sirius started a long explanation of everything. Harry became too transfixed by all of the posters to really hear everything, but he came around in plenty of time to see a small fortune of gold traded for two new brooms.

The trouble started the moment they walked outside. A bright flash blinded Harry for a moment. He blinked away the spots in time to glimpse a very large camera before he had to blink through three more flashes and a haze of purple smoke.

"Harry Potter!" cried a woman in bright yellow and pink robes. "Such an honor to meet you."

Harry found his hand being shaken with vigor as the witch in yellow peered at him through horn-rimmed glasses.

"Rita Skeeter, with the Daily Prophet. The whole country is just dying to hear your story, Harry. How did you survive so long, out on your own, not a friend in the world? And is it true that you're living with a man convicted of killing—"

"I can't be convicted of anything if I haven't had a bloody trial," Sirius growled. "Why don't you print that part of it?"

"Oh, Mr. Black, excellent, I'd like to get a few quotes from you as well." Skeeter pulled an acid-green quill from her purse.

"We're not interested in your little rag, Skeeter. Now back off. Come on, Harry."

Sirius guided Harry by the shoulder.

The camera started flashing again, and Skeeter followed. Sirius's grip tightened on Harry's shoulder. Harry tried to walk faster, but Skeeter hardly seemed to notice, except that the clack of her high heeled shoes on the cobblestones becamelouder.

"Now, Harry, tell me—"

"He has no reason to tell you anything." Sirius sounded dangerous, quieter than when Harry had said there was no such thing as magic, but with the same edge, somehow.

"Now what exactly are you hiding, I wonder," Skeeter said.

Sirius stopped moving; he lost his grip on his godson's should because Harry didn't stop soon enough.

Harry turned and found that Sirius had his wand in hand. Before Harry could say anything, Sirius had cast a spell at Skeeter. Her quill sailed over Harry's head and into Sirius's waiting palm.

Skeeter crossed her arms. "So I haven't got a quill. Do you really think that'll stop me?"

Sirius did some quick spellwork, which fascinated Harry. Sirius tossed the quill back to Skeeter.

"Do you remember the truth potion we put in your coffee after you started those rumors about Hagrid?" Sirius asked. "And how Madam Pomfrey's counteractive potions and spells didn't help at all? Do you remember how awful you looked after three days of being able to tell nothing but the truth? Just try asking my godson another question, or printing any of your drivel about him, and I'll make those three days of truth-telling look like a bloody fucking Sunday picnic, with a bright blue sky and cheerful fucking birds singing in trees with beautiful blooming fucking flowers. Are we clear?"

"You can't threaten a journalist and think she'll quiet down." Skeeter said this with great force, but she watched Sirius nervously. In fact she had paled noticeably at the mention of the truth potion in her coffee.

Sirius flicked his wand; nothing happened, but Skeeter jumped. Then she glared before stomping off with her cameraman in tow.

As the sound of her heels faded, Harry heard another strange walking pattern coming at them from the Leaky Cauldron end of the Alley. Step, thunk. Step, thunk.

Sirius seemed to hear it too. He didn't turn to look, but he swore vehemently.