Bones
faetokki
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Series belongs to JKR, of course, I am merely a humble fan of her work.
Chapter 1
He took a step into the renovated shop, the cool sweet smells luring him in from the summer heat. The witch behind the corner perked up when she noticed him, the bell tied to the door signaling his arrival.
The shop was by no means empty, which meant a few glanced up at his entrance and looked away - then did a double take.
"Hey, isn't that - "
"Oh Merlin."
"I didn't know Lord Potter had a sweet tooth… "
With a barely concealed grimace Harry made his way to the counter. He gave the mint green-haired shopkeep a sincere smile as a greeting.
"Harry! It's good to see you, you're looking well," she winked at him, placing her manicured hands on her aproned hips. "It's about time you paid me a visit. Your handsome face is such a nice contrast from those sticky first-years."
"Good to see you again too, Lisella," Harry blushed at the older witches words. "Sorry I haven't been in the shop for quite some time. Been in Ireland for the last couple months."
"Everything alright over in Lucky-Land?" she asked. Harry snorted.
"Yeah," he answered. He adjusted his Auror robes, the collar peeling off his heated skin in a not entirely pleasant fashion. At least the shop was cold. Had to be or their main product would melt. "We were stuck a bit longer than expected. They had an unreported outbreak of spattergroit. Four of the previously stationed officers had to be isolated and treated away from the first camp."
"Oh, ew." Lisella stuck out her tongue, her freckled face curling in disgust. "Not so lucky after all, ey?" Harry shook his head in bemusement.
"Unfortunately not," he replied softly, the hint of long-time suffering in his breath.
Lisella gave him a sympathetic look. She gestured to the case of delicious frivolities.
"Well! Don't let me stop you from selecting one of our delicious specials. What'll it be, Savior?" Harry couldn't control his wince at her word choice. Merlin, was he ever ready for people to stop calling him that. It seemed like his past would continue to follow him. Likely even after his death. Oh wait, technically it already had. Ha.
Lisella winced along with him seconds after speaking.
"Ah sorry Harry, forgot you disliked that one."
Harry gave her a conceding smile. Honestly he hated all of them, not just 'The Savior of the Wizarding World'. I mean really, they weren't even original.
She grabbed the biggest ice-cream cup they offered, which indeed was quite large and gestured to the cooler case. "What'll soothe that sweet tooth of yours today, hun?"
"Hmm," Harry hummed, already forgetting the previous faux pas as he took a look at the buckets of colorful ice-cream on display.
Following the last few years after the end of the Second Wizarding War, Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlor had been reopened after the owner's passing - much to Harry's and surely many other young witches and wizards sincere delight.
Lisella Fortescue - Florean's granddaughter, was the one who managed the joint. Her three younger brothers balanced the shifts and accounting work. She was a spunky, but tender-hearted witch whose oddly colored hair often reminded him of Tonks. She had told him on a previous visit that she'd forgone her last year at Hogwarts to nab the place from her parents, who'd wanted to sell it.
The second the quirky shop had reopened Harry had bee-lined for the Chocolate Raspberry Swirl, flavored with chopped nuts. The nostalgic smile on his careworn, adult face had endeared Lisella to him immediately, who happened to be a couple years older than himself. Harry had grown found of her as well, as Lisella never gave him special treatment because he was 'Harry Potter'. Merely because she thought he was cute - or so she often said!
He now made a point to visit the cheery establishment at least every other week, at his lunch hour. Harry just couldn't resist the haven from his childhood, a place filled almost entirely with happy, simple memories. Such memories were too precious to forget amid the darker ones.
"You know I think I'll go with the French Vanilla this time." Harry pointed to the right tub. The simple creamy flavor too inviting to forgo something of a more complex palate.
"Why, how very vanilla of you Harry," she winked at him again, wrapping up his order immediately.
"What?" Harry gave her a confused look. "Of course. It is vanilla after all."
"Oh you're no fun," she pouted, shaking her head at his childish innocence.
Harry could only raise his eyebrows in bewildered amusement. He stuck the pink plastic spoon she gave him in his mouth, keeping it there with his teeth as he paid her the required knuts - and a few extra galleons.
"Always a pleasure doing business with you," Lisella pocketed the extra coins and gave him a bright, grateful smile. "See you next week, Harry."
"Goodbye," Harry gave a short wave as he past through the door. Every eye that had watched him purchase his ice-cream followed him as he stepped back into the heat of August, their hungry, curious gaze just as hot on his back as the blazing sun.
He sighed, keeping the spoon in his mouth as he walked through the crowded street, drawing attention here and there but he made no point in stopping. He needed a quiet, cool place to eat his treat. Then back to work.
Unfortunately, he had picked the worst time of day to get his sugar fix.
Diagon Alley was filled to the brim with young, to-be, and current Hogwarts students being escorted by their family, the narrow streets crowded and swollen with people. Making a quick decision Harry pulled the hood of his Auror robes over his head, despite the stifling warmth. Sweat aside, he really didn't want to be detained for questioning and autographs that late afternoon.
Harry used his hand to protect his uncovered ice-cream, deciding muggle London would likely be a better place to enjoy his precious treat. He made his way to The Leaky Cauldron.
Just as he was edging around the last corner of the North Side, a glowing set-up in the window of Flourish and Blotts caught his eye.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening in growing horror.
In the center of the display was a blown up image of himself, outlined in a thick gaudy frame.
A candid shot he'd never seen before, it was of Harry descending a large knotted tree - without magic. In one arm he held a precious boon of thick matted fur.
Harry watched in shocked silence as the 2D hologram of himself placed the plump cat back on the ground, bending down to give it a soft petting.
He remembered that cat. A stray he'd noticed on the way to work who'd climbed up a tree a touch too high. He'd thought of naming it Dr. Mittens and taking it home with him if it hadn't run off the second he released it.
Speaking of.
A tortured sound, much like a dying animal left Harry's lips as he watched a small, sweet smile grace 'Bookcover-Harry's' face as he waved the cat goodbye the animal bounding away without a second glance back at him.
Harry had half a mind to place his ice-cream down in order to barry his flushing face in his hands.
No. No no no. No. NO. Oh gods, he was never going to be able to get over this. Forget the people of significance he worked with, his friends would be taking the micky outta him for the next few decades of holidays.
Glowing paper fairies fluttering around and smiling at possible customers, beckoning them in with their tiny pale hands, turning the pages of the book as if demonstrating the quality of paper.
There were stacks upon stacks of the shockingly thick volume, placed in and around the bookshop window, each hard-backed in a thick, burgundy velvet. The title was written in a extravagant loopy script of glistening gold ink. The same title was written below the blown up picture himself, the cover, which Harry read with a sickening dread that soured his stomach.
"The Hideously Heroic and Glorious Good Deeds of Lord Harry James Potter. Third Edition"
Harry stared open-mouthed at the gaudy display for quite some time, his pink spoon hanging precariously at the corner of his lips.
"They even put my middle name," Harry whispered. He felt something stagger, flop over and die within him. His pride? Sanity? Any hope to be taken seriously again?
As if sensing his strangled emotions, the weather gave mercy on him, sending a swooping gust down the alley, making some witches cry out as their shortened skirts flew up around them.
The breeze blew past Harry as well, curling and twisting around the birds-nest medium length hair. The sharp coolness was a respite from the heat and Harry's poor, dizzied condition. Unfortunately, in order for the wind to tousle his hair, it first had to remove Harry's hood from his head.
Harry blinked, patting his damp hair with his free hand, understanding reaching him too slow to be of any service.
And then a scene not unlike what had preciously occurred in Florean's happened once more… magnified to a hundred.
"Mum! Mum, it's Harry Potter!"
"Gerald, for goodness sake if I hear you 'Cry Potter' one my time…
His wide, panicked eyes met those of a middle aged witch in a obnoxiously colored hat, topped with what appeared to be a pissed off chipmunk. In one hand was her large sidebag, the other the hand of a small child who looked about eleven.
That brief moment of silence had never been so long - nor so short. A shirek so shrill it rang through the Alley pieced his ears so sharply he thought they might bleed.
"OH MY DEAR SALAZAR, IT IS LORD POTTER! THE CHOSEN ONE, OUR SAVIOR! GRAB HIM! GRAB HIM AND GET HIS AUTOGRAPH IT'LL BE WORTH BILLIONS!"
The blood drained from his face.
Seemingly coming back to herself the witch gave him a searching look, a thoughtful frown on her face. She began rummaging through her bag, paying no mind to Harry's stiffening figure as she murmured to herself under her breath.
"Bloody good, what was that hair-cutting spell again, I'm sure a single lock of that thick head of hair would be worth twice - no thrice!"
"Oh, bloody hell."
In response to the shriek, many more voices had come to attention - some hushed some just as loud and terrifying ping-ponged all around him. Harry was beginning to feel quite small.
And quite afraid.
"Potter? As in thee, 'Lord Potter'?"
"Fred! Did you hear that? Why is he here, at Diagon Alley?"
"Getting his christmas shopping done early?"
"Perenia said she saw him at that old ice-cream parlor - I didn't think she was telling the truth!"
Before he could be stampeded to death by his 'adoring but far too enthusiastic fans' Harry disapparated. The sharp crack echoed despite the now swarming witches and wizards.
Lisella frowned, her fingernails halting their bored tapping against the laminate.
The excited hollering and sound of hundreds of feet carousing about the alley had reached all the way back to her little shop, the bell at the door ringing away as the foundation began to shake.
"Oh Harry," she sighed, understanding right away the only reason for such an energy switch in the peaceful alley. "Poor kid can't go anywhere or do anything, can he?"