When Stephen returned to Privet Drive the following weekend, he was greeted by the sight of Harry wrestling with a weed whacker that was taller than he was, trimming the grass along the edges of the flower beds. From the looks of things, he'd already mowed the lawn and pruned the hedges this morning. Stephen parked the car and climbed out with a smile. "Hello, Harry," he called over the buzz of the weed whacker.
"Hello, Mr. Coyner," the child called back. "I'm almost finished."
"Take your time, Harry," Stephen answered. "We're not on any sort of schedule." He perched on the boot of his car, watching the boy. It was clear that Harry was well-versed in the art of lawn and garden care despite his young age. He couldn't help but wonder what other work the Dursleys foisted off on Harry since they took custody of him… and why Dumbledore wanted him raised in an abusive situation.
Once he reached the end of the flower bed, Harry shut off the weed whacker and hurried around back to stow it in the garden shed. He brushed off the bits of grass and weeds that still clung to his legs before rapping on the back door.
"Is the lawn finished?" Petunia demanded, coming to the screen door.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he replied. "And Mr. Coyner is here."
Her lips thinned in a disapproving frown. "Fine. You two freaks get out of here. I don't want him in the house any more than absolutely necessary. I don't want him contaminating my Dudders."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said again. He darted around the house once more, hearing Dudley and his friend Piers Polkiss cheering the action on Dudley's new video game console in the sitting room. He smiled at Mr. Coyner. "All done, Mr. Coyner. Are we really going to go pick up my new glasses?"
"Absolutely," Stephen smiled back. "Hop in. Also, you can call me Stephen. Mister makes me feel old."
"Oh, my notebook!" Harry exclaimed. He dashed over to the front steps, where he pulled the notebook from under the doormat. "I didn't want Dudley or Aunt Petunia finding it, so I brought it out with me when she sent me out to do the yard this morning," he explained as he climbed into the passenger seat of Stephen's little car.
"What would likely happen if they found it?" Stephen asked.
Harry shrugged a little. "Aunt Petunia would probably burn it, because there's questions about magic in it. Dudley would rip it up or something, just because it's mine."
Stephen nodded. "So your aunt just has a problem with magic, while your cousin is a bully, yes?"
"I think so," Harry agreed.
"How would you like self-defense lessons?" Stephen asked as they drove. "Martial arts, and maybe fencing as well. I know of a few places that teach martial arts, and the roommate I had last year at uni is on the fencing team there. I bet I could talk him into giving you some lessons, if you'd like."
Harry brightened. "I'd like that a lot, Mr… uh, Stephen. But would I be able to do those things with glasses on?"
"Sure thing," Stephen told him. "You can have a special pair made that have unbreakable lenses and that strap on so they can't be knocked off. Your stipend will cover it, no problem."
Harry gave a little bounce of excitement. "I can't wait! I always wanted to do some kind of activities like Dudley gets to do. But they'd never pay for me to do anything."
"No need to worry about that now," Stephen assured the boy. "Mind, you won't be able to do everything and anything. But even when I go back to uni come fall, I'll be coming by every Saturday to see you. That way, you won't have to count on your aunt to take you to your activities." He turned the car into the Debenham's car park and circled until he found an empty space. "Let's go get your glasses and put the order in for the sports pair."
Harry smiled all the way into the Vision Centre and through the adjustments to make sure all three of his new pairs of glasses fitted comfortably. He even managed to sit still while the technician measured the size of his head and around his eyebrows and cheekbones for the sports glasses. He happily chucked his old round glasses in the bin and put on one of the new pairs, peering all around in awe at how clear everything looked now. "This is brilliant!" he exclaimed happily. "I can read all the signs now!"
Stephen laughed. "Let's go, Harry, and you can read all the signs you want as we drive."
He did just that, reading aloud every directional and exit sign they passed on the motorway as they headed towards London. After noting that they were taking the exit for Charing Cross Road, he asked, "Where are we going and what are we doing today, anyway?"
Stephen laughed again. "I'm going to disguise you with a glamour spell, so that you won't get mobbed, and I'm going to give you your first look at Diagon Alley. It's where the wizards shop in London. I might not be able to give you a proper wizarding upbringing, but I can at least give you some background and experiences so that you're not as lost as I was when I first went to Hogwarts. I'm also going to buy you a magical trunk. As far as your aunt and cousin will be able to tell, it'll be an ordinary storage chest. But inside, it will have several compartments that only you will be able to open, and one of them will be a magical version of a refrigerator. It's the best idea I could come up with, to make sure you get enough to eat. You'll be able to keep fruits and cheese and sliced meats for sandwiches in that compartment, so that even if your cousin decides to ruin your meals for his own amusement, you'll be able to go to your room and eat as much as you like."
At the mention of food, Harry's stomach gave an audible growl and he blushed. "That sounds amazing," he murmured.
Stephen pulled into a parking garage and found a vacant spot far from any other vehicles. Glancing around to make sure they were alone, he pulled out his wand. "Ready to look different? We'll have some lunch at the Leaky Cauldron… it's the pub that hides the entrance to Diagon Alley from Muggles… and then we'll shop."
"Okay," Harry replied, looking torn between nervousness and excitement.
With a few waves of his wand, Stephen gave Harry brown eyes and sandy brown hair. He also pulled out a bottle of muggle foundation and grinned. "My sister has just about the same skin tone that you do. And by using makeup on your scar, a mis-aimed Finite… a cancellation spell… won't accidentally reveal your identity.
Harry giggled as Stephen daubed the foundation onto his forehead and blended it in with a little sponge. "Do I need to be called by a different name?" he asked.
"I don't think so," Stephen shook his head. "After You-Know-Who disappeared, a lot of boys were named Harry in your honor. You look younger than you are thanks to the Dursleys' near-starving of you, so you look like you're of an appropriate age to be one of the many namesakes of Harry Potter."
"Okay," Harry nodded. "Are we ready?"
"We are," Stephen smiled. "It's only about a block to the Leaky Cauldron. Fish and chips sound good to you?" He laughed when Harry's reply was another stomach-growl and a red-faced nod. He led the boy down the block and into the wizarding pub, taking a booth near the back. "Two orders of fish and chips, a pint of dark, and a glass of pumpkin juice," he told the server who appeared a moment later.
When the food arrived, Harry dug in with a blissful expression. "This is brilliant!" He took a drink of the juice, licking his lips. "Mm. A little odd, but good."
"It's the most popular drink at Hogwarts," Stephen told him. "Most meals, you'll have a choice of pumpkin juice or water or tea. There's usually orange juice at breakfast as well."
Harry nodded, took another bite, then picked up his notebook. "Can we talk in here?" he asked softly.
"General questions only, but yes."
"Why don't more Muggles know about magic?"
"There's a law called the Statute of Secrecy," Stephen explained. "People in general fear anything they can't explain. And hundreds of years ago, when most people didn't have much, if any, education, they'd react a lot more violently to things they couldn't explain. So if they saw a wizard flying on a broomstick, or a witch using her wand to sweep the floor while she cooked supper, they would freak out. It didn't help that the leaders of the early Christian church would call such things the work of devils or demons, and would take the lead in torturing and even killing those witches or wizards who were noticed, with the idea that they were driving the devils out of them. Since very few wizards can do magic without a wand, once the Muggles caught them, they couldn't save themselves. So the wizards started hiding from the Muggles." He smiled. "Mind, this is just the simple explanation. We can pick up some books that deal with the history if you'd like. But anyway, as the Statute works today, no magic may be performed in front of Muggles, unless they're the immediate family of a Muggleborn. The family has to know at least a little, after all, in order for the child to get a magical education. Not to mention, they've likely seen a few instances of accidental magic as the child was growing up… like when your hair grew back after your aunt gave you that really horrid haircut. The only exceptions I know of are the Queen and the Prime Minister. There might be a few others high up in the government, but I don't know for sure."
Harry laughed. "That makes sense, I guess. And I would like to learn the history, please. When we covered the witch trials in school, the teacher said that most of the time the trials were based on greed or personal feuds… that someone who wanted to add to his property would accuse the owner of the next fields over of putting spells on him, so that when the accused got arrested and his property taken, the first person would be the first in line to buy the taken property."
Stephen nodded. "That happened a lot, too," he said. "In all honesty, more than accusations against real witches and wizards. But mostly because wizards did make a point of hiding away from the Muggles."
"Do kids born in the wizarding world get to do magic openly before starting school?"
"Yes and no, from what I've heard," Stephen replied. "On the one hand, there's a law against the use of underage magic… you're not supposed to use magic outside of school until you're seventeen. On the other hand, as you can see just looking around the pub, there's no electricity or other modern conveniences in the wizarding world, because it's all done with magic. So most kids learn some housekeeping charms from their parents at the very least… little things that let them tidy up their rooms in a hurry, or mend a cup they accidentally broke. Some of the wealthier families hire tutors for their children, which lets them practice magic as long as they're in the company of that tutor."
Harry looked hopeful. "So, since you're my tutor, you could show me some spells?"
The question caught Stephen by surprise. But then again, he reflected, I should have known. If I'd learned I was a wizard before getting my Hogwarts letter, I'd have wanted to start learning magic right away, too. He looked thoughtful. "Yes," he decided, "But. This is not the time or place to discuss such things. Any other general questions?"
Harry beamed. "Umm… are there any books on customs and traditions?" he asked. "The things a wizard-raised kid would know automatically, like how a Muggle kid knows to look both ways before crossing the street or to bow to the Queen."
"I never looked," Stephen admitted. "We can check it out while we're looking for those other books, though. Ready to shop?"
"Ready!" Harry jumped eagerly to his feet.
Stephen took the boy's hand and led him through the back door of the pub after leaving some odd-looking coins on the table. He pulled out his wand, then gave Harry a look. "Make sure you stick close. I really shouldn't be bringing you here yet, but I think you need to learn as much as you can now, so that you won't be dependent on Dumbledore or anyone else once you officially return to the wizarding world." He smiled. "And here's how to get into Diagon Alley from Muggle London."
The rubbish bin was sitting in the back of the pub's tiny courtyard, up against a brick wall. Harry watched in fascination as Stephen counted three bricks up and two over from the top of the bin and tapped the brick in question with his wand. The brick started to wiggle, followed by the rest of the bricks. In a moment, the bricks all curled back, forming an archway leading to a twisty cobblestone street.
Stephen smiled at Harry's wide-eyed expression. "Amazing, isn't it?"
"Brilliant," Harry breathed, gazing at a shop displaying all sorts of cauldrons and then looking past that one to another with telescopes and lunar charts in the window.
Stephen chuckled. "You'll get to see all of them eventually. Come on, let's get that trunk, and a bunch of books to store in it."
For a moment, Harry looked worried. "Er… will my stipend cover all this?" he asked. "We never did talk about how much it was and how to spend it appropriately last week. We just bought bunches of clothes and my new glasses."
"It will," Stephen said firmly. "Her Majesty knew you would need to be kitted out completely, so she added some extra to this first year's allotment. Even allowing for how fast boys can grow, you won't likely have to replace everything all at once again. And your stipend includes some pocket money as well, so that you can treat yourself now and again if you see something you like, whether that something is a book, a t-shirt with a clever saying on it, or a candy bar. No need to worry."
Harry relaxed again. "Okay," he nodded. "Which way do we go?"
"Right this way," Stephen directed, guiding the boy to a small and unremarkable-seeming shop.
To Harry's amazement, the shop appeared far larger inside than it had from the outside. Several craftsmen were hard at work, sawing, sanding, or fitting pieces of wood together into all sorts of boxes and chests. Even more fascinating was the obvious magic being used in the work… sanding blocks moving themselves over boards and paintbrushes applying finishes unaided by human hands.
An older man wearing a sawdust-covered apron approached them. "How can we help you folks today?" he asked.
"We need a trunk with at least four compartments," Stephen said. "Three of them should be set to open only to the owner's magical signature, and one of those compartments needs to be enchanted as a cold storage box."
"Muggle-style camping?" the shopkeeper asked. "We've got just the thing. It won't take but a few minutes to set the cold enchantment and the security features." He vanished through a door in the back, reappearing a few moments later with a brass-banded oak chest about the size of a military footlocker. "This will give you plenty of room for your gear and your food besides."
"Perfect," Stephen nodded. "It's for young Harry, here, so you'll need him to set the security features." Looking down at the child, he smiled. "Just do what he tells you. Since the security spell is to keep the hidden compartments from opening for anyone but you, you'll have to be touching it while he does the spellwork."
Harry nodded, watching as the shopkeeper set the trunk on the floor before them and lifted the lid. The inside seemed as nicely finished as the outside, with a pair of adjustable separators so that he could section off the trunk as he liked, perhaps to keep anything fragile he might need to keep in it from accidentally getting smashed by a heavier item. He smiled. "It's very nice," he said softly.
The shopkeeper chuckled. "And you haven't seen the rest yet, lad. Let me show you how to get into the rest of it." He reached into the trunk and put his hand against one end, then pushed. A space opened up on the other end. The man then took hold of the part dividing the new space from the edge of the trunk and smoothly pushed it until it melded with the side he'd originally pushed. This section was of a slightly different color wood than the first. "This is a four-wood trunk. Oak for the outside, for strength. Ash… this compartment… for knowledge. When you start schooling, this would be the place to store your books." He slid the ash compartment back, then pressed the other end of the oak one to reveal another hidden section of yet another wood. "This is hawthorn, for protection." He returned that one to its place and with the same technique, pulled one more compartment from the back of the trunk. "And hazel, for healing. This is the one I'd recommend to make into your food keeper. The healing properties of the wood will aid in keeping things fresh for you. And once you're off to school, you'll be most popular when your dorm mates discover that you've got all the supplies for a party ready at hand," he added with a laugh.
Harry laughed as well, unable to imagine himself being popular. But he supposed anything would be possible if Dudley wasn't around beating up anyone who tried to talk to him. "All right," he agreed after a glance at Stephen. "If that's the one you say should be the cold compartment, I'll take your recommendation, sir."
"Nice polite lad you've got there," the shopkeeper commented to Stephen as he pulled out his wand. Drawing the wand along the inner edges of the hazel compartment, he spoke the incantation, "Facereperpetuamfrigusintra!"* A bluish-white shimmer appeared to fill the compartment for a moment before sinking into the wood. "Put your hand inside there, lad," the man said with a smile.
Harry did so and blinked. It was now as cold within the compartment as inside the Dursley's refrigerator. "Wow… I can't wait until I learn how to do things like that!"
Both men laughed at his enthusiasm. "All right, let's get the security set up now and you'll be all set," the shopkeeper said. He pushed the hazel compartment back into hiding, leaving the oak visible. "I'll have to repeat this spell three times, one for each of the hidden compartments. Put your hand against one of the inside walls of the trunk where you have to push to open the hidden ones while I say the incantation. You'll feel a little tingle when I do… that's the magic of the trunk learning your magical signature, so it will recognize you and only open for you from now on."
Harry nodded and placed his hand where the man indicated.
This time, the wizard moved his wand in a sort of a figure-8 pattern while pointing it at Harry's hand as he said, "Aperiamtactussolus."*
Harry blinked as a cool tingle, then a rush of warmth flooded through his hand and up his arm through his entire body. The same thing happened twice more as the shopkeeper applied the security charm to the other two hidden compartments. "It feels like the trunk likes me," he said shyly, half-expecting the men to laugh. "I felt the tingle like you said, but I felt all warm, too. And not just in my hand, the feelings went all the way through me."
Both men smiled. "It very well might like you," Stephen said as he paid for the trunk. "Magical items often react to people in one way or another. I remember one of my year-mates talking about a deerskin rug her grandmother had, that would yank itself out from under children younger than age three or so. She figured so many toddlers must have wet on it over the years that it took a dislike to them."
Harry and the shopkeeper both laughed at that. The shopkeeper tapped the trunk with his wand, causing it to shrink to the size of a box of matches, and handed it to Harry. "Enjoy your trunk, lad, and stock up wisely for those parties," he said with a wink and a grin.
Harry smiled back shyly. "Thank you, sir," he said softly. He put the shrunken trunk into his pocket and slipped his hand back into Stephen's as they exited the shop back into the bustle of Diagon Alley. They proceeded to Flourish and Blotts, where they picked up a couple of books on history, one on wizarding customs and etiquette, and one on meditation techniques that Harry thought looked interesting. Stephen added Quiddich Through the Ages and The Tales of Beedle the Bard to the pile, figuring it would be a good idea to expose Harry to both wizarding sport and fiction. After that, they stopped in at Florean Fortescue's for big bowls of chocolate orange swirl ice cream before heading back out through the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London.
Once they were back in the car, Stephen took the glamours off of Harry and enlarged the trunk once more, stowing it in the back seat. "I don't want to forget to do that for you before we get back to your aunt's house," he explained. "Since she's got such a problem with magic, I don't want to give her any excuse not to let you come with me on weekends."
Harry smiled in relief. "Thank you," he said softly. "Are we going back there now?"
Stephen caught the reluctance in the boy's tone. "No, we're not. I thought we could either head to a library, or back to that park, and go over exactly how your stipend works and how to budget it. After that, we'll swing by Sainsbury's or Tesco and stock up your trunk's cold box."
"That sounds like a plan," Harry nodded as they pulled out of the car park and back into the London traffic.
An increasingly cloudy sky made them decide on the library over the park. They drove to the Little Whinging branch library and dashed inside just as the rain began to fall. Harry looked around with interest, having never been there before. It wasn't a large building, but it did appear cozy, with a smallish hearth area complete with comfortable chairs and lamps for sitting and reading in the middle of the main room's longest wall.
Stephen spoke with the librarian for a moment, who smiled and ushered them to a room in the lower level that was furnished with a table and several office-style chairs. She left and returned a moment later with a pitcher of ice water and two glasses. "We're open until six, so there's no rush," she told them, closing the door behind herself as she left.
Stephen smiled at Harry. "Which would you like to do first, your stipend and budget, or questions from your notebook?"
Harry considered, looking into the notebook for a moment. "I think visiting Diagon Alley answered a lot of the questions I wrote down. So let's do the stipend and budget first, please."
"Fair enough," Stephen nodded. "All right, Her Majesty had an account set up for you at Barclay's, with me as trustee to oversee it until you're sixteen, at which point you'll take over control although I'll still act as your advisor. That's to keep your aunt from getting her hands on your money. Your stipend is five thousand pounds a year until you're eighteen, for your clothing and incidentals… that would be things like your glasses, or activities like martial arts. However, since you needed to be completely outfitted thanks to your relatives' selfishness, the initial deposit was for eight thousand."
Harry's eyes grew wide. "That much?"
Stephen chuckled. "It's really not a huge amount. Five thousand a year wouldn't even rent you your own one-bedroom flat in a decent neighbourhood in London, let alone pay the utilities as well. But as you have a home and Petunia Dursley is your legal guardian, you don't need to worry about rent. Anyway, we've only spent about fifteen hundred so far, as you seem to be a rather frugal shopper. And that includes what I exchanged over to wizarding money for today's expedition. Would you care to see what we've spent and where so far?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, please. I like doing Maths at school, because I can count pebbles or whatever to get the numbers right. But with reading and writing, it's not always as easy to know what the teacher is looking for. Although maybe I'll do better now that I can see properly."
"I'm sure you will," Stephen said. "Also, do yourself a favor and do your best in school, even if it means getting better grades than Dudley. Whether you choose to stay in the wizarding world or return to the Muggle world, education and knowledge are the keys to success. Mind, I'm not saying you should force yourself into becoming a bookworm if you aren't one. But you're only hurting yourself in the long run if you skive off all the time and neglect your schooling just because your aunt doesn't like it when you prove yourself smarter than her lump of a son." He pulled out the initial deposit slip from Barclay's as well as the receipts from Debenham's and the Vision Centre, laying them on the table for Harry to see.
For his part, Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe it won't be as bad now anyway, if I do get better grades. Aunt Petunia hits me sometimes, but Uncle Vernon was the one who really hurt me. Well, Dudley does too sometimes, with his gang, but only if they catch me. And if I'm to go off with you on Saturdays from now on, that will give them less chances to catch me." He bent over the receipts, frowning a bit in concentration as he added up the numbers. "So the trunk and the books we bought in Diagon Alley came to three hundred twenty-five pounds?" he asked after a moment.
Stephen nodded. "Yes. I converted five hundred pounds to wizarding money before picking you up this morning, knowing we'd be going to Diagon Alley." He pulled out a pouch and spilled out the odd-looking coins that he'd used to pay in the Leaky Cauldron and the other wizarding establishments. "Right now, the exchange rate is five pounds to a galleon… that's the gold coin. The silver coin is a sickle, and the bronze one is called a knut. They've got slightly odd ratios to each other; it's twenty-nine knuts to a sickle, and seventeen sickles to a galleon. So we started out with a hundred galleons this morning, and spent sixty-five of them. I'm not sure when we'll go back to Diagon Alley, but you've still got thirty-five galleons to spend there out of this initial withdrawal."
Harry nodded. "All right. As long as you think I've done well so far. About how much do you think martial arts lessons should cost?"
"I'm not entirely sure. There are different sorts, and I'm sure different costs. How about we use the computers here to see what's available nearby? Then next week we can tour them all and see where you think you'd be happiest."
"Okay," Harry nodded, blinking a little at the thought of being offered a choice. On the few occasions the Dursleys had been forced by circumstance to spend money on something for him, they always went with the cheapest option available. He'd certainly never been consulted as to his wishes. He tilted his head, considering. "So I should figure on about a thousand a year for clothes and glasses? Is that right?"
"It's a fair guess. You might need to adjust it some as you hit your growth spurts. When I was fourteen or so, I shot up nearly a foot that year. I needed new shirts and trousers every few months as my wrists and ankles would start hanging out," Stephen said with a grin. "On the other hand, you'll be at Hogwarts by then, so you'll be spending less on things like martial arts or other activities. That'll balance things out a bit. Anyway, you'll want to figure another fifteen to sixteen hundred on your food and personals each year… that's about thirty pounds a week, and chances are you'll spend less anyway. I don't imagine you'll need to buy your own loo roll, after all."
Harry laughed. "No, that's one thing Aunt Petunia doesn't complain about my using. Budgeting is fun. It's like solving a word problem in Maths. So, after allowing for food and clothes, I still have almost two thousand left." He thought for a moment. "If I guess a thousand for activities, what do I do with the rest?"
Stephen smiled, growling inwardly at the notion that any child as young as Harry would consider what they were doing to be fun. "Well, some of it… two hundred sixty, to be precise, is your weekly pocket money. Five pounds a week, and since I forgot to give it to you last week, here's a tenner for last week and this." He pulled a ten-pound note from his wallet and handed it to the boy. "As to the rest, I'd leave it alone. That gives you a small cushion if we've miscalculated anything, or it can be used for occasional expenses, such as school field trips."
Harry nodded again. "And if I don't need it, it's better to leave it in the bank, right?" He looked in awe at the ten-pound note in his hand. "And I really get five pounds every week? I don't have to account for what I do with it?"
"That's right, Harry," Stephen assured him. "You can spend it or save it or spend some and save some, just as you wish. Now, any other questions before we go get your food?"
Harry bit his lip nervously. "Er… since we're alone here… this is probably better… when will you teach me some magic?" he managed to get out.
Stephen's warm chuckle filled the room. "I should have known," he smiled. "If I'd learned I was a wizard earlier than I did, I'd have been eager to learn magic, too. How about next week? I'll have to take you to my place for that. Since Dumbledore placed you with your aunt, I suspect he's got some sort of alerts placed on the house, and possibly even the neighbourhood, to let him know if you perform any accidental magic that might require fixing. I'd rather not risk getting anyone's attention, his or the Ministry's. So we'll go outside of Surrey and to a place where no one will be looking for you before I let you try anything, okay?"
"Okay," Harry agreed with a bright and relieved smile.
The pair left the library and headed to the local Tesco. They loaded up with bread, granola bars, peanut butter, raspberry jam, a pot of mustard, hummus, snack-size bags of baby carrots and celery sticks, lettuce, tomatoes, a bag of mixed apples and oranges, and several varieties of sliced meats and cheese from the deli, along with the deli's tuna salad, egg salad, and three-bean salad. After a moment of thought, Stephen added a package of paper plates and one of plastic forks to their trolley, along with a single all-purpose kitchen knife so that Harry could slice the tomatoes for sandwiches. Harry sorted the food into the cold compartment of his trunk once they returned to the car, and put his books and the plates and utensils into the oak section.
Back at #4 Privet Drive, Stephen helped Harry carry the trunk up to his room. As they walked back downstairs, Harry smiled. "Stephen, thank you so much for everything you're doing. I had a lot of fun today."
Stephen smiled back as he opened the door. "So did I. And, Harry, you know your birthday is coming up in a little over two weeks. You'll be nine. You'll have to let me know next week, what sort of things you like, so I'll be able to find just the right birthday present for you. See you next Saturday!" He walked out the door, leaving a stunned Harry gaping after him.
* Facere perpetuam frigus intra - Make lasting cold within.
*Aperiam tactus solus - Open to this touch alone.