Findle and Co Muggle Appliances

An imaginative composed by Leila (Year 8)

Harry had visited almost every shop in Diagon Alley. Amongst the enchanted hustle along the cobblestone street, a hidden store was crammed in between Ollivanders Wands and Flourish and Blotts, tucked away in the dark shadows. Hagrid, who walked alongside Harry, could see Harry’s wonder. A Muggle shop, in the centre of Diagon Alley?

“Go ahead,” Hagrid trailed, his bushy beard swishing with the movement of his jaw.

As Harry moved closer to the forgotten, abandoned shop, he noticed a faded “open” sign hanging from a rusty chain. The peeling emerald letters read “Findle and Co’s Muggle Appliances.” It had a thick lining of dust covering the top edge of its damaged steel, suggesting it had not been changed in years. Harry hesitated before taking an uncertain step and grasping the blackened gold handle. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open with a struggle, and it creaked as it opened. The inside of the store was grey and eerie. A coldish chill pricked Harry’s back, and the sunlight that shone through the dirty and cracked windows revealed floating dust specks. Curious, Harry stepped further into the shop, the floorboards beneath him squealing.

“What happened to this place?” he pondered out loud. “And how can a place like this seem so neglected?”

“No one wants Muggle appliances,” a dusky voice replied.

Harry jumped.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just been a while since our last customer.”

Harry turned around to see a middle-aged man sitting behind a scrappy wooden desk he had not noticed before, his legs crossed and resting on it, hiding many sheets of torn paper. Harry could’ve sworn the man had red, glowing eyes but was then distracted by his appearance. He had a reddish-brown beard that started around his ears, which were covered by a poofy, striped top hat. He wore a matching suit and reminded Harry strongly of the typical owner you would see in a lolly shop or toy store. He was quite lanky, with shined leather shoes and a walking stick, which seemed like it was there purely for show. Harry wondered, Why would a man of his appearance be in this type of broken-down shop? It did not seem right.

But when Harry turned to his eyes again, they were a welcoming sea-green tinge with a kind warmth in them.

Hadn’t they been red before?

Harry closed his eyes and then looked at the man’s again. Nope, they were definitely green. He must have been seeing things.

The man started to choke on the dust, wheezing. He then cleared his throat, which now sounded squeaky and cheerful.

“Harry Potter, isn’t it?” He sounded curious but shy.

Harry nodded. He was starting to get sick of people recognising him. The man stopped in his tracks and gazed up at the cracked roof, which had a dusty, dust-speckled beam of light shining on him like a spotlight. This strongly reminded Harry of a scene he had seen in a movie at the Dursleys’ through the staircase’s cracks, right before the character broke out into ANOTHER musical number.

“Harry Potter, in my shop!” The man smiled so wide Harry thought his face was going to stretch.

“Well,” he continued, “may I give you a demo?”

Harry nodded. Even though he had lots of experience with Muggle appliances from all the chores Aunt Petunia had given him, he decided to show some interest in the mysterious place.

The man gave a small jump for joy, dropped his walking stick and merely clapped before running out the back. Harry peered around the side of the door to try and see where he had gone. When he came back, he was clutching a vacuum cleaner, mixer and a piggy bank, which desperately made Harry wonder how many of those things Dudley had smashed trying to buy sweets.

While Harry attempted not to show it, he was disappointed, which the owner instantly picked up on. With a flick of his wand, the vacuum cleaner came to life and automatically started vacuuming, not just the floor, but the walls and ceiling too! Harry gazed around in wonder, noticing that the dull, peeling walls from before were now perfectly clean and fixed!

Harry looked up at the ceiling and saw the vacuum busily at work. Once it had done its work, it travelled all the way back to the owner’s hand, the interior of the building now sparkling and brand new. The cracks had been plastered, and the floor and walls were repainted and sparkling clean.

The owner’s long, pale fingers curled around the vacuum cleaner awkwardly, and he took off his poofy top hat, revealing his well-groomed hazelnut hair, with small white wisps mixed throughout.

This man must be older than he seemed, Harry thought, while reaching in curiosity towards the piggy bank.

Suddenly, the pink ceramic money box squealed and bit Harry’s hand!

“Ouch!” Harry shrieked, jolting back.

The man cheered.

“Oh yes!” his jovial voice announced. “That is a normal Muggle piggy bank, but it is enchanted so that it protects your money. It follows you around, and it can even shrink so you could fit it somewhere useful, like your hat!”

The man pulled out another long, pale finger and tipped his hat. He suddenly reached into it and pulled out a sleeping blue pig, snoring in the owner’s palm. He then placed it away and gestured Harry towards the pink ceramic one.

“All yours, free of charge!”

Harry offered a shaky, sweaty hand, hoping the pig would not bite again. It sniffed, snorted and rubbed its head on Harry’s hand.

What a relief!

The owner must’ve already packed away the vacuum and mixer. Although Harry was disappointed that he didn’t get to see the action of the mixer, he was still pretty impressed with the Muggle appliances and the bewitched money box he had scored, free of charge. The man pointed to it, staring into Harry’s soul.

“This way, you can avoid going to Gringotts. I’m not too fond of that place.” His expression turned into a bit of a frown. “Had to go there today, actually, to fix up this place, before I realised I had the vacuum cleaner.”

The owner muttered the last bit, however, challenging Harry’s hearing. Harry wondered why the man did not like going to Gringotts, the safest bank on earth. Was it because of the shop? Did they not lend him any money? It had certainly looked like it.

As Harry left the shop with the shrunken pig in his pocket, snoring, he couldn’t help but notice that the exterior of the shop looked completely new, as if Harry was the power the shop needed. All the rusted, old signs were now glowing, the windows tinted and unscratched, and the painted sign that once had displayed emerald letters was now replaced with bright hues of sunset orange and emerald, just like the man’s eyes. The letters read “Findle and Co’s Muggle Appliances, Shop 713, Diagon Alley.”

The man held out his hand for Harry to shake it, but Harry could not help but notice a small grimace on the owner’s face when he did.

“Thank you, Mr Potter,” he spoke between large breaths of relief, slowly retrieving his hand. “We will meet again.”

“No,” Harry replied, “thank you, Mr…”

Harry realised he hadn’t yet gotten the owner’s name.

“I’m sorry, was it Mr Findle?”

“Oh no,” the owner started. “That was my old boss’s name. You can call me Tom. Tom Riddle.”

Harry’s scar tingled.

Spotting Hagrid, Tom ushered Harry back onto the mellow, cobblestoned street.

Harry turned back to say “thank you” one more time, but Tom was gone.

Harry walked alongside Hagrid back through Diagon Alley, the sky above them fading to dusk. He turned back and noticed the shop was gone. Flourish and Blotts and Ollivanders seemed to be joined buildings, with no space in between and no shop in that space. Where had the Muggle appliance shop gone?

But that was the last of Harry’s thoughts.

“Yeh all good, Harry?” Hagrid asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Harry was still confused.

Why had the name “Tom Riddle” seemed familiar?