Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Opening Doors

Disclaimer – I solemnly swear that JKR owns everything Harry Potter. Whether or not I am up to no good with her characters is for you to decide.

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Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Chapter 27 – Opening Doors

2:20pm

Thursday, 25 August 1995

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England

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"No! That will simply not do!"

Harry looked down at himself at Sirius' statement and frown. He couldn't see what was wrong. And then he compared himself to his godfather.

They were about to go to the Ministry of Magic. He knew that. Sirius had told him to dress appropriately. And Harry had. He'd put on a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt, even attacked his hair as best as he could. As an afterthought, considering that they were going into the heart of Britain's magical world, he'd even put on his bottle-green robes that he'd worn at Hogwarts over his school uniform.

In contrast, Sirius was done up as though he was going to some stuffy high-society ball. At least, that's what it looked like to Harry. His outer robes were a deep blue that looked almost black, piped with hints of silver. On his chest, sat the crest of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, matching his House ring, something that he was wearing today but ordinarily never put on. Under his robes was an immaculate, cut-to-fit three-piece jet-black suit, off set by the links of a silver pocket watch that crossed his waist and the deep blue tie that matched his robes.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Harry asked. "We're only going to ask about the dragons and the new Reserve."

"You've got a lot to learn and it's probably my fault that I haven't really started teaching you this stuff just yet," Sirius sighed. "Impression is everything with these people. What you look like is almost as important as who you are, especially when it comes to opening doors. And today, we need to get in without a fuss. We don't want to be dithered about; the more time we waste, the more chance there is for the dragons to go rogue."

"But ... but, I'm Harry Potter," he stammered, blushing hard.

"Yes, The-Boy-Who-Lived," Sirius nodded. "And, while that might be enough to open doors, we need to make sure."

"You know I hate that name," Harry groused. "But that wasn't what I meant."

"Oh?" Sirius asked lightly.

"I'm the Speaker for Dragons," he began.

"Which, while impressive, won't mean a jot to these people," Sirius waved off.

"Not what I meant," he replied, shaking his head. "What I meant was that I can speak to dragons. They know that. This Mathilda Grimblehawk even invited me to a meeting once to get me to work for her, before they'd even made this Reserve. Won't that be enough to get in?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Sirius allowed. "It doesn't mean that we can't stack the deck. You need to dress up. Put on your best clothes and robes. Act the part, make them stop and look at you and take notice of you and what you have to say."

Harry screwed up his nose, disgusted with the idea.

"I'm not saying that you have to be a 'Dumbledore', that man may be flamboyant enough for ten wizards, with the overly bright and glittering robes that he tends to prefer, and no one can deny that he draws the eye and makes everyone look at him and listen to him, but he has no style," Sirius continued.