CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

Bella's POV:

I followed Hermione through the small, dusty pub, filled only with a trickle of witches and wizards. The old, wizened looking barkeep shot Harry, Ginny and Hermione a toothless smile and a quick wave, which they all returned.

Hermione seemed so at ease here, and I was reminded, again, that this was her world, her real world. To me, it felt like some kind of fantastical dream and a part of me was still expecting to wake up at any moment. The three lead me out the back of the pub, to a small, walled courtyard, with a dustbin. Hermione approached the dustbin and tapped on the brick three up and two across from it. Before my amazed eyes, the bricks started sliding across, first creating a small hole that I wondered if we were going to have to crawl through, then growing until a large archway was formed.

"Oh my god." I murmured, for what felt like the billionth time since Hermione had taken me via Side-Along Apparation to The Burrow. Hermione turned back and smiled at me.

"I know, right?" She said, her voice soft, the amazement still evident in her tone. "I'll always love this. The magic hidden, right before us." I nod, and follow her through the archway, and into Diagon Alley.

It's everything I expected, and nothing I could have ever dreamed of at the same time. Everyone was clad in robes or frills, long, wide and conical hats, or ankle-length gowns. The first building I saw was an imposing snow-white, multistoried marble building, which Hermione pointed out as Gringotts. In front of the Wizarding Bank were several short, fair-skinned creatures, each about a maximum of 48 inches high, that I assumed were goblins.

Despite everything I'd seen, they still seemed extraordinarily strange, with their dome shaped heads, pointed noses and ears, and extremely long fingers and feet. Perhaps sensing my stare, one of the goblin's head turned towards me, and I met it's- his?- dark, slanted eyes. I resisted the urge to shudder, and tried to smile at it. It didn't smile back.

The words from one of the letters Hermione had sent me after her first visit to Diagon Alley swam to the front of my mind. She'd labeled it as something carved into marble inside the strange Wizarding bank that I'd found absolutely fascinating at the time, but now I shuddered.

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.

Anyone who tries to rob that bank had to be absolutely insane.

Almost as if she was reading my thoughts, Hermione gave a shudder of her own. "I never want to set foot in that place again," she muttered to me, "I'm pretty sure they still haven't forgiven us for breaking in." I literally choked on my own spit, and turned my wide-eyes to my sister.

"You broke into there?" I say, my voice somewhat hysterical.

"And rode a dragon out." Harry answered for Hermione, and my sister gave me a shaky smile.

"Story for another time." She said.

"Cripes." I mutter, shaking my head, before following Hermione around the curve of the cobble-stoned street.

My jaw popped open, and I was unable to close my mouth as my eyes drank in my surroundings. It was amazing- there was no other word for it. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments I had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles and even cages filled with owls of all different sizes and colors.

"This is unbelievable!" I whisper. Harry and Hermione's eyes are shining in a similar way to mine, as they take in the street.

"I know," Hermione said, quietly. "It never gets old." Before we went any further, Hermione turned to face me, holding her wand out in front of her. She muttered a few things I didn't hear, and before my eyes my hair turned an alarming shade of blonde that reminded me of Lauren's bleached tresses, and my skin darkened to a golden tan. "Disguises so we don't get accosted in the streets by our adoring fans." She explained, in a slightly sarcastic voice, before turning her wand back on herself and applying the same changes. As her eyes turned from brown to blue, I wondered if mine had too- I certainly couldn't feel the difference.

Harry's hair is now long and brown, covering his scar, and his eyes are brown too, while Ginny has gone for the blond look, like Hermione and I.

"Where to first?" Harry asks.

"Madam Malkins," Ginny said, instantly, throwing me a grin. "We need to get dress robes for Bella for Percy and Audrey's wedding."

"Dress robes?" I asked, puzzled.

"Fancy robes for fancy occasions," Harry elaborated. Hermione gives him a look for his incredibly simplified explanation before turning to me.

"It's tradition to wear dress robes to a wedding," she says, apologetically, "but after that we can go to Flourish and Blotts and Scribbulus Writing Instruments!" she adds, sounding eager. I roll my eyes at her enthusiasm, and follow them to a neat little shop labeled Madam Malkins Robes For All Occasions. It's a tidy little shop with a bell that rings as we step inside and mannequins lined up against the walls dressed, in the bizarre clothing that the Wizarding World calls 'robes'.

A short woman dressed all in mauve hurries over, a large smile on her face. "Can I help you?" she asks politely. The older woman's skin hangs off her body in a way that suggests she'd once been plumper, and had lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. Faded lines of stress are present on her face, and up close I can see the weariness behind her smile.

"We need a pair of dress robes for my sister for a wedding." Hermione explains, gesturing to me, and the woman nods.

Before I really know what's happening, I'm standing on a stool, in front of a large mirror, while the woman adjusts the length of the bizarre 'robes' I'm dressed in. They're long and formfitting, soft blue in color and come with a sheer shawl. After an uncomfortable half hour we emerge from the shop victorious, me holding a large shopping bag with my shiny new dress robes. Lucky me.

-

The afternoon seems to pass in a haze. It feels like I've stepped into a fairy tale- I mean, there's a shop that sells owls, and ones that sell broomsticks, quills, and even magical fireworks!

Arms loaded with a variety of supplies, including the weirdest sweets I've ever seen, my new dress robes, and a fancy quill made from a peacock feather, we enter Flourish and Blotts- the bookshop Hermione's been eyeing off, ever since we turned the corner.

When we stepped inside, I suddenly understood Hermione's enthusiasm. I wasn't quite as big a bookworm as she was, but it was easily the most wonderful bookshop I'd ever seen. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.

Hermione makes a beeline for a shelf near the back, and I follow her- Harry and Ginny are waiting outside, most likely making out. Hermione crouches beside the shelf, and my gaze flickers over to the titles. My eyes instantly widen in understanding 'Vampyre Lore', 'Living with Vampires', 'Warding off Vampires', 'A History of Vampires', 'The Vampire South Wars', 'Spells For Killing Vampires', 'Advanced Wards- Vampyre Special Edition'. They were just some of the hundreds of books that were vampire related.

I stared wide-eyed while Hermione picked out around eight of them. "Don't worry," she assured me, seeing my stunned expression, "most of these are just for my curiosity." As we approached the counter, the bell on the shop door made a tinkling sound, and a slender young man with sleek white-blond hair, slate grey eyes, a pale complexion and rather sharp, pointed features walked in.

Beside me, Hermione froze completely, her face suddenly a blank mask, completely hiding her emotions. The young man turned to face Hermione, and his eyes widened slightly. "G-Granger?" He asked, hesitantly, and I wondered how he'd managed to recognize Hermione with her different skin, hair and eye-color. His eyes briefly flickered over to me, curiosity evident for a few seconds, before his gaze moved back to my sister.

Hermione threw off her shock and straightened her posture, holding her chin up high. "Malfoy." She said, voice colder then I'd ever heard it, and the man I now realized was Draco Malfoy, Hermione's high school bully, flinched slightly at the icy tone.

"I... can we please talk?" He asked, in a voice that sounded defeated, almost.

"No." Hermione said, her voice hard and short, before marching over to the counter and placing the large stack of books down. The shop attendant was gaping at Hermione, having heard Draco's exclamation of her true name, and when Hermione pulled out her money bag the attendant hastily shook her head.

"No, Miss Granger, ma'am, you don't have to pay here, not after what you've done for us!" She said, firmly.

"I..." Hermione looked a little stunned. "Thank you."

"No, thank you." The assistant said, and Hermione shrank the books and stashed them in her pocket before turning back to me, eyes flicking briefly to Malfoy. "Let's go." She said, her voice stiff and strained, before striding over to the door, her eyes not moving back to the dejected looking blonde again.

A part of me felt for the dejected looking guy, but I didn't say anything and tried not to stare at him. A task made slightly harder when he stepped in front of our path, and looked at Hermione beseechingly.

"Granger... Hermione... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He said to her, his voice pitched low so the shop attendant couldn't hear, his tone perfectly miserable. Hermione's gaze didn't soften the slightest, remaining harsh and icy.

"I'm not." Was all she said, before pushing past him and exiting the shop. Draco didn't try to follow, and Hermione murmured to me, "don't tell Harry, okay?" I nodded, deciding to demand an explanation when her face wasn't looking quite so pale, and her eyes weren't looking quite so hard.

Harry and Ginny emerged from the alleyway beside the bookshop, their clothes and hair ruffled, their lips a touch on the swollen side. "Finished?" Harry grinned. Hermione's expression relaxed as she shot him a teasing smirk.

"Nice lipstick, Harry. That shade really suits you." She teases him. Harry doesn't even blush, just laughs and wipes the red lipstick off his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Ginny and Hermione make identical looks of disgust at him.

"Any last places you want to visit?" Harry asked, checking his watch. Like most things in the Wizarding world, it was very odd. It was slightly dented, and had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. Yet somehow, despite it making no sense whatsoever, Harry seemed to be able to figure out the time. "It's nearly six." He said. Surprised, I checked my own watch. I hadn't realized it was that late.

"Let's go to the Magical Menagerie." Ginny suggested, "I need something to keep me company at school. It's lonely with so many people having not returned."

The Magical Menagerie has to be the strangest place we've visited yet, but definitely my favorite. It's a very cramped and noisy shop, with every inch of wall covered by cages. The cages contained all different kinds of animals- poisonous orange snails, a giant jewel-encrusted tortoise, sleek black rats, owls, ravens, cats of every color, weird things that were labeled Puffskeins and resembled funny multi-colored furballs that appeared to be loudly humming, a fat white rabbit that kept turning into a silken top hat, and so much more.

While Ginny wandered over to look at the cage labeled Nifflers, that appeared to be full of small, furry, almost seahorse-like creatures with long, narrow snouts, Hermione's wistful gaze was drawn over to the cage of cats. Hermione had loved that cat of hers, and had loved telling the tale of how she came across him.

The tall, somewhat scrawny wizard running the shop walked over to Ginny. "Hello ma'am," he grinned widely, "are you interested in purchasing a Niffler?" he continued before she had time to answer with an obviously well-rehearsed sales pitch. "They're such gentle, precious creatures, and tend to be very affectionate towards their owners," he told her, "though you'll need to be careful because when they're bored or loose, the cheeky things have a tendency to destroy belongings and property while looking for things that sparkle."

Ginny's smile became mischievous. "Now I'm definitely getting one." She said, "and then I'm letting it loose in my dorm." A giggle escapes me and Ginny winks. Amused, I walk over to Hermione who's staring at a cage filled with small kitten-like creatures, with the label Purebred Kneazle Kits. They all were all orange in color, with large ears and lightly plumed tails, like a lion, with some that had spotted fur, while others had speckled or flecked or even striped fur.

"You should get one." I tell her, seeing the longing in her eyes.

"Maybe one day," Hermione sighed, trailing her fingers along the metal bars, "It's too soon after Crooks, though."

We leave the Magical Menagerie with a whicker basket held by Harry- Ginny made him carry it, he's completely whipped. The Niffler is poking its long snout out of the basket, looking excited. Well, I think it looks excited. It's a bit hard to tell with the bizarre looking creature.

Floo-ing back with all our purchases is, well, tricky to say the least. I have no idea how the others managed it, as all I had to carry back were my new dress robes. Mrs. Weasley greeted us all with a smile and a large, feathery brush she used to dust away all the soot.

After we put away our purchases we head downstairs for dinner, Ginny bringing down her Niffler for everyone to coo over.

Later that night, when Hermione and I are on the mattress, and Ginny and Harry have snuck out, I ask her the question that's been on my mind since the 'interesting' encounter in the bookshop.

"What was all that with Draco Malfoy?" I ask her, and she stiffens for a few moments, then sighs, and relaxes her body.

"When Bellatrix was... 'questioning' me, Draco was present." She says, quietly. I feel tears sting at my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." I tell her, and she gives me a wobbly smile, that doesn't contain even the slightest bit of humor.

"I lied to him. I'm sorry too."

-

Sunday passes in a joyful haze. Fleur and Bill pop over a few times, and Harry and Ginny try to get me to try flying again- I refuse. Hermione spends the day alternating between reading, watching Harry and Ginny teach me how to degnome a garden and listening to them tell me funny stories about Hogwarts.

I'm sad when it's time to leave, just after dinner, and Hermione explains that we'll be taking a Portkey to Port Whiskey, a small Wizarding community in Seattle, not unlike Diagon Alley. From there, we can catch a cab to the airport, and wait for Edward to pick us up.

I'm excited about seeing Edward again- I want to hold him in my arms and tell him I love him, though I'm apprehensive about trying out a Portkey, the only method of magical travel I have yet to try.

With all our bags packed and shrunk, we say our farewells before approaching the old cooking pot on the kitchen table that's glowing a bright blue. "It's been fantastic meeting you, Bella." Ginny says, giving me a big hug.

"It's been amazing meeting you all too." I reply. Harry isn't coming back with us just yet, saying that he'll apparate back to Forks on Monday (in American time), as he wants to spend as much time with Ginny as he can before she has to go back to school.

As I cautiously eye the pot-turned-portkey, Hermione decides to give me a quick warning that I wish she'd kept to herself. "There's a small chance that after we arrive, you're going to experience Portkey-sickness," she says, in an apologetic tone. My heart instantly begins to race and my palms start to sweat.

"What the hell is that?" I ask in a voice that's only an octave or two off a whimper. Hermione instantly goes into lecture mode.

"There's no official term for it, but Portkey-sickness is a condition in which travelling by Portkey causes a disagreement between visually perceived movement and the vestibular system's sense of movement. Hysterics and nausea are the common symptoms."

Harry laughs at my expression, and gives me a gentle shove. "You'll be fine, now go!" he says. Taking a deep, deep, deep breath, I touch the Portkey-turned-pot with my pointer finger- and instantly decide that the magical world has the most screwed up ways to travel ever.

Travelling by Portkey feels like there's a hook somewhere behind my navel pulling me to what I'm assuming is my destination. When we arrive at what seems like mid-morning in some kind of street not dissimilar to Diagon Alley, I end up slumped on the ground, my head spinning too much for me to stand.

"You okay?" Hermione asks, looking down at me with concern, from where she is casually standing comfortably.

"Screw you." I mutter, stumbling to my feet. A wave of nausea leads to me emptying my stomach on the ground before me, attracting several glares from the robed, cloaked people striding around us. Hermione vanishes the sick with a flick of her wand. "Is there any un-screwed up way to travel in the wizarding world?" I moan, and Hermione shoots me a brilliant smile.

"Just wait till you try the Knight Bus." I give her an incredulous look- there's an even worse way to travel? Hermione smiles amused at the expression on my face. "Shall we get out of here and go find a cab?" she asks in a voice that is entirely too entertained. I brighten up slightly, remembering that in a few short hours I'll be seeing Edward again.

There's a definite bounce to my step as we exit Port Whiskey (the entrance/exit is in the back of an old record shop) and flag down a taxi that drives us to the airport. Hermione restores our luggage to its proper size in the bathroom, out of sight, and we then proceed to find the front gate, as if we were exiting the airport after an eight-hour flight.

A shiny silver Volvo appeared in our vision, and I just about sprinted over to it, only tripping twice. Edward emerged from the car and pulled me up into his arms, kissing me eagerly. "I've missed you." He murmured, between kisses, and I sniff, slightly.

"I've missed you too." I tell him. "I love you, Edward."

"I love you too." He whispers in my ear.