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Diagon Alley was crowded, as always, but Flourish and Blotts stood out in particular. There was just an incredible crowd of women of all ages.

"Just don't tell me, Hermione, that you chose this particular day for this," I could not help but grimace at the sight of the crowd.

"Max. This is the great writer of magical England. It would be sacrilege not to attend such an exclusive press conference. Moreover, his books are recommended as textbooks. Which is definitely strange."

"That's it. Let's go through the rest of the stores first."

"And I need to go to the bank, change money."

"Me too."

And so we did. First, we went to Gringotts and exchanged some pounds for galleons at the first free counter. I still had a little bit after my trip to France, plus the loot from that house, so I'm not in distress, but I try to split the cash into two parts - half in pounds, half in galleons. I dragged Hermione into the store for bags, chests, and other junk with the invisible expansion charm.

"Why, Max?" The girl asked when we entered the store. "You have a backpack."

"And you do not want some?"

"I want. But I'll do it myself. Someday."

"But the use of such a spell is prohibited. For the sake of safety and greater control of the wizards to the ministry."

"A very bold statement," the salesman chuckled, not distracted from some work behind his counter. He held his wand like a writing pen and was drawing something very carefully on a large piece of leather. "I think so myself."

The salesman glanced at us.

"You can't even imagine how expensive a license is. But more to the point..." He straightened up and tucked his wand back into the sheath at his belt. "How can I help you?"

"My self-confident friend, apparently, does not need anything. Maybe later."

Hermione nodded in agreement and lightly poked me in the side with her fist.

"And I need a bag with an invisible extension. I may have to put large objects in it with a contraindication to decrease. Consider this, please.

"Okay, wait for a second" the seller, lost in thought, came out from behind the counter and walked somewhere deep into the store.

"I would have said that myself," Hermione whispered softly.

"And you said so."

For several minutes of waiting, we walked around the store, looking at certain goods. After all, not only useful things were here, but also beautiful ones.

"Here" from behind the shop windows came a seller with the most ordinary black cloth bag. "Not the most aesthetic thing, but it meets your requirements."

The seller demonstratively untied the ties on the neck and opened it as much as possible. Indeed, a huge thing. Small in appearance, but the neck is really huge, and when opened, the bag looks more like a bowl, in which nothing is visible.

"Perfectly. I take it."

After paying for the bag, folding it tightly, and putting it in my pocket, I took Hermione through the rest of the shops and, first of all, the ingredients for the potions. Then we ran into Madame Malkin's store. There were many people today, and right now, three Malkin assistants were working with clients.

"Hello, young people" from the entrance to the "workshop," where they are engaged in sewing, a satisfied Madame Malkin came into the trading floor. She was still small in stature, just as plump, but the mantle and the costume's general tones moved to gentle turquoise and sea waves.

"Hello," we greeted at the same time, which caused the affection of Madame.

"Are you here for the sets of clothes to Hogwarts?" then Madame noticed my robe. "Oh, beautiful French model. Excellent choice, young man. Come in, now we will organize a free place for taking measurements."

We followed Madame, maneuvering between mannequins and display cabinets with pieces of fabric. When we reached the large mirrors with a stool, we finally stopped.

"Let's start with the young lady. And you, young man, can sit down and familiarize yourself with the catalog for now."

There was indeed a comfortable sofa nearby, and behind the stool was a fitting room. I sat down on the sofa and began leafing through the magazine. At the same time, various meters and rulers fluttered around Hermione on the stool.

"Back to Lockhart's work," I said, turning the page of a men's fashion magazine. "Doesn't it seem strange to you that fiction was recommended as textbooks?"

"Perhaps they just didn't find anything better?"

"Well, it's unlikely. There are many textbooks, and almost every year, there are some interesting editions from different authors. It is textbooks, which is important."

"Perhaps the ministry thought that books authored by a wizard with the Order of Merlin of the third degree are better?"

"And what does the ministry have to do with it?" I raised a blank look at Hermione.

"How is that? After all, it is there that the standards for teaching aids are established."

"Yeah. But DADA has been given at the mercy of visiting professors for many years. It is the professors who determine which textbooks will be used to teach children. At least that's what they say."

"So the new professor decided that these books would be better," Hermione shrugged.

"So this professor is highly incompetent. Fiction is mostly embellished with lies or even completely misinterprets facts. This is done to please the reader - such a genre. What kind of professor will teach children such an important subject as DADA, using such literature. Remember our problem with Protego?"

"Of course."

"And how would we learn the spell if we learned it from such books? You can still spice up history lessons with fiction, but not practical exercises."

Then an absurd fantasy appeared in my head, in which the process of making a potion was artistically painted. And Snape, burning such a book with Fiendfyre. I couldn't help but smile.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, sitting down beside me. Taking measurements is over.

"I've imagined how Snape would have felt about potion fiction."

Hermione smiled.

"By the way!" She was suddenly so struck by her recollection that she shocked herself. "Professor Flitwick stands on Lockhart's books in class!"

"Ha! I didn't even notice. Surely a master like Flitwick would not publicly show such disrespect for worthy books. I still recommend buying normal textbooks."

"But we still need to take a couple of Lockhart's books. And get an autograph. What? They can then be resold. Autographs are always valuable."

"Enterprising furry" I could not resist and smiled.

"Oh, you!" Hermione flared a little. "Here, you see?"

She pointed the finger at the fact that her hair is pretty neatly styled. Strands in the front are tied back into a ponytail, thereby pinning loose hair. And in front, a pretty cute bang, looking a little to the side.

"Not a fluffy!" summed up Hermione what I should have seen.

"Okay, okay, not a fluffy...fluffy."

"Maximilian Knight! You are unbearable!" She, in the most offended manner, folded her arms over her chest and stared ahead. But the corners of her lips were striving to spread into a smile.