AUTHOR's Reply- thank you!! sorry it's a short one, I'll post more later on. 😮
"I'm talking about that article we saw a couple of weeks ago."
"I know, Farulen got abducted," Ron said. "Most likely by You-Know-Who."
Harry didn't even bother telling him to use his real name. "Sometime after, though...I had a dream. Voldemort was in it, and one of the Death Eaters. He told the Death Eater that Farulen was disposed of. Ron, what does the head Library Keeper do?"
"Their job is to keep a record of all the scrolls, stories, and manuscripts that have been preserved through time." Ron said automatically.
"So Voldemort needed information." Harry said. "And not just in common libraries, either, he was after ancient information."
Ron thought about it. "Wait, wait. Harry, somehow this doesn't make sense. Remember, in Diagon Alley? Fred and George said that the tables were turned, that he was guarding something from us. What do you suppose that is?"
Harry didn't answer, remembering what Dumbledore had told him about the Emerald Knight legend. No one needed to know just yet; His two best friends already knew that he was the heir of their school house.
He guessed that Lord Voldemort had beat them to the Pyramids of Furmat, most likely guarding the ancient magical armour that had once belonged to Harry's ancestor, Godric Gryffindor.
Voldemort had wanted information. He most likely knew about the Emerald Knight legend already, heard tell of it perhaps. But he didn't have the full gist, and needed the full scroll from the Great Library to know the important material.
Voldemort couldn't use the armour, only Harry. He only needed to prevent Harry from getting the upper side, from using it.
Harry looked at Ron again. "I think I know. But, there's something involving me. I'll tell you when the time comes."
Ron stared at Harry, his eyes begging for information. But both of them knew that he wouldn't get it yet.
Bill came in, wiping his hands on a tea towel.
"I couldn't help but overhear what you two were saying," he began. "And Ron, Harry's judgement was right, you'll find out what he means when Harry feels that the time is right. About Farulen, well, you can discuss the topic in tonight's meeting. Dumbledore knows more than we give him credit for."
Harry nodded, while Ron just shrugged. "I guess."
"Good, good." Bill said warmly. "Well, thanks to Dobby, lunch is ready. We just needed to add up a few touch-ups. Ron, go and get mum."
***
To Harry, the rest of the day couldn't pass long enough. Ron, Charlie, and the twins insisted on tagging along to the barbershop with Harry and Bill.
Harry had quite a sum of money in his pocket; he wasn't sure what the price was. Besides, he might want to waste some time later on, buying things.
"Ah, here we are." Bill said, stepping into a cozy little store. A faded sign outside read: "The Cawing Raven: Flotbury and Father's Barbershop."
Mr. Flotbury was a kindly old man at the front desk. Harry could not see the actual barbers and customers themselves, because of a large bamboo screen.
"Now, then, what have we here?A Weasley? A pleasure to see you again, lads!"
"Oh, the pleasure's all mine, sir." Bill replied, smiling.
"Now, who needs a haircut today? Ah, you there, young sir! Your hair fringe appears to be growing excessively, we'll need to trim that, and your mullet too."
"Harry Potter, meet Mr. Flotbury." Bill introduced them to each other.
"Goodness me," the old wizard said, his neatly trimmed beard seeming to twitch. "The one and only Harry Potter?"
"The one and only." Fred replied.
"Yet, still famous." George said, patting Harry's back.
"Well, it is an honour to meet you, young lad!" Mr. Flotbury said.
Harry was quickly developing a liking for this gentle soul. "Good to meet you, sir."
"Now, come on back here - (he gestured behind the screen) - and have a seat."
Harry sat in the seat, but the rest of the Weasleys didn't follow.
As he sat down, leather straps appeared out of nowhere to bind him tightly to the chair. He was struggling when Mr. Flotbury came back with his wand.
"My dear boy, please hold still," he said, putting a scarred hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry had no choice but to trust the aged barber.
"Good, good," Mr. Flotbury said jollily. "Now hold still..."
Harry sat still as a stone and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Flocentria Denesada!"
An unpleasant whirring noise sounded, followed by strange grinding. Harry dimly realised that the whirring was a magical razor, and Mr. Flotbury was cautiously guiding it over the back of his mullet, over his head, his fringe. The grinding noise was coming from his hair, being chopped off instantly.
The whirring and grinding stopped, and was followed by a blast of refreshing air, blowing the dropped hairs off his head. Harry enjoyed the cooling sensation quite thoroughly.
"All done." Mr. Flotbury said finally, and stepped back.
Harry slowly ran his fingers through his hair, delighted. It was neither too short or too lengthy, and felt a lot more smoother, stronger.
"Thanks, Mr. Flotbury!"
"Oh, don't mention it, lad."
Harry paid five silver Sickles for his trim and along with the rest of the Weasley brothers, waved Mr. Flotbury goodbye.
"Well, that wasn't so bad," Harry said, in another good mood. "I've got plenty of money here, everyone. Want to go shopping?"
They looked mortified, most likely thinking of the fact that Harry would be spending money on them.
"Don't worry." Harry said, growing impatient. "I have tons in my vault, might as well buy something with it."