I feel like I could write an entire short story based on Harry's time visiting with Florean Fortesque, and maybe I will. But here's a quick glance at how I think it could've gone.

Of Untold Secrets and Ice Cream

Harry

Since Harry would be residing on Diagon Alley until further notice, he decided to make the best of it. He took the large bag of gold the Minister had retrieved from Harry's vault and journeyed out into what was truly a beautifully sunny day. A block down from the Leaky Cauldron he stopped and tried to suppress a grin, but failed. Florean Fortesque's Ice cream parlour had some of the most delicious ice creams that Harry had every tried. He'd been here just the once with the Weasleys and the Grangers last year and had had dreams about returning ever since.

Even Fortesque's shop looked delicious. The roof was a pale pink color with a scalloped lattice painted in dark brown trim, as if the roof was dipped in chocolate. The exterior was mint green with more chocolate-coloured paint swirling around round windows that looked to have panes of rose- coloured sugar instead of glass. The foundation, and the frames of the windows and doors were all made out of a rough substance the colour of gingerbread. If Harry wasn't worried about possibly ingesting concrete he would've reached out and tried to take a bite, it all looked so delectable.

Harry entered the shop and scanned around, taking it all in. The front room was small, probably as small as his bedroom back home. One could simply stay in one place and turn in a circle to see everything. Beside the door was a narrow staircase that led up to an open area with tables and chairs. Below this there were shelves everywhere, all holding jars of sweets or stacks of chocolate bars-muggle and wizarding alike. At the base of these shelves were glass cases that also ran around the circumference of the room. Inside each case were no less than 12 flavours of ice creams, in colours and combinations Harry never could've thought possible.

"Is that Mr. Potter?" a man asked, coming out into the shop through a swinging saloon-style door. Harry recognized him, both from Harry's previous one other visit and from the ads in the Daily Prophet.

"Mr. Fortesque, hello," he said politely. He did not mind this wizard recognizing him. Mr. Fortesque did not say Harry's name with awe or fascination the way some others did, but as if he were greeting an old friend. Also, he made ice creams, and that made him alright by Harry.

Mr. Fortesque reminded Harry of a younger, thinner Father Christmas. His hair was white and combed back against his head in a complicated looking style that left a big tuft of white sticking up in the front. He wore a bright blue wizarding suit, the kind with trousers and long, swinging, coattails. His shirt was the colour of sherbet and his suspenders, bow tie and kerchief, were chocolate brown. As he came closer Harry smiled. The man had such a friendly face, like Mr. Weasley. Though it was heavily lined, all of his wrinkles around his eyes and mouth told the story of a lifetime of smiles.

"Call me Florean, if you don't mind," he said in a smooth, warm voice like hot caramel.

Harry nodded and Florean clapped his hands together once, "Now!" he said, a bit louder, "What can I get for you?"

Harry stared around at the cases overwhelmed. "Um, small chocolate cone, please?" He hadn't meant for it to be a question but the glint in the older man's eye told him that he had said quite the wrong thing.

"Chocolate? Chocolate?! Well, son, that narrows it down to about 22 flavours. Let's see, let's see." Florean moved quickly around behind the glass cases, peering into each one.

"We've got chocolate-peppermint stick, chocolate-covered banana, chocolate and hazelnut crème, chocolate raspberry, white chocolate with fudge bits, chocolate nougat, chocolate with brandied pears…" he trailed off, grinning at Harry's wide-eyed, open-mouth reaction.

"I…um, well, those all sound good!" he finally said.

Florean barked a laugh and hopped the glass case he was standing behind, then clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Well then, we best get started," he said cheerily, steering Harry out onto the road again and seating him at a table under the chocolate awning.

"You wait here, I'll bring you something grand!"

Harry smiled goofily. He thought maybe it was silly to be so excited about ice creams, but he had never truly had anything like this before last year. Occasionally, his aunt and uncle would buy him a lemon ice to keep up appearances when they were out and Dudley demanded sweets, but he'd never gotten to choose for himself, and certainly never got to go out alone and have ice cream for lunch!

Harry pulled out his History of Magic textbook and was just about to flip to the chapter on witch-hunts when Mr. Fortesque returned with a magnificent looking cone.

It was the colour of brown sugar and had edges dipped in chocolate. No less than four scoops of ice cream sat nestled within the cone and they were all drizzled with chocolate sauce and dotted with bits of fresh fruit.

"Thought I'd start you out with something healthy!" the man joked, placing the cone on the table by its tip. Harry reached out frantically to grab it before it fell, but no matter, as the cone sat perfectly straight with no threat of tipping. "Let's see," Florean said, appraising his handiwork, "we've got all the fruit flavours in the this one; banana on the bottom, strawberry and raspberry in the middle and pears on the top!"

Harry gaped at the cone for a moment before looking up at the smiling man. "It's brilliant! Thank you, sir! Um, how much do I owe you?"

Florean waved him off as if he'd asked a ridiculous question. "Your money is no good here, Mr. Potter. Just enjoy it! Ah, what have you got there?" he asked, pulling out the chair opposite to Harry and taking a seat.

Harry, whose mouth was already full of icy cold, sugary sweetness, glanced at the book Florean was pointing to.

"Hist'ry a' magk," he mumbled.

Florean reached over and picked up the book. He looked at it fondly, as if it was a friend of his.

"Old Batty, boy isn't she something? Knows more about the Wizarding world than some libraries! But of course, she lived through so much of it."

Harry swallowed hard. "Do you know Bathilda Bagshot?"

Mr. Fortesque nodded, looking reminiscent. "Aye, when I was a young boy she would come in and get mulberry sherbet sprinkled with whizbees. Then she'd sit and trade fantastical tales with my father. I could hardly believe it was truth, the things they said! And yet, once I was a bit older and a bit more studious, I read those same things in texts. Much more boring they were, written down as dates and places and people."

Harry glanced guiltily at his History of Magic textbook, thinking there hadn't been a time in his history at Hogwarts that he hadn't fallen asleep reading that book.

"Like what?" Harry finally said, savoring a particularly juicy raspberry that just exploded in his mouth.

Florean leaned back in his chair and looked out on the gorgeously sunny alley. "Oh you know, they would swap tales of their houses. Bathilda would give us accounts of how Gryffindor battled throngs of bloodthirsty goblins with nothing but his famous sword. And my father, who is from a long line of Ravenclaws, told her about how Rowena herself had freed a group of slaves in Egypt by tricking a sphinx using her…" but he trailed off, blinking into the sun.

"Yes?" Harry asked, having been quite curious about how Rowena Ravenclaw might've tricked a sphinx.

"Ah, Ollivander!" Florean called, standing up and walking over to meet a thin, slightly bent, and anciently old man that Harry recognized at once. "I thought that was you! Bit of a glare out today, not that I'm complaining. Hang on a tick, I've already packed it!"

Harry watched as Mr. Fortesque ran into the ice cream parlour and then turned back to looked at Mr. Ollivander.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said politely, since the man was already appraising him uncomfortably.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, indeed. Enjoying your visit I hope?" the man said, his voice gravelly and low.

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. Mr. Fortesque was just telling me about Rowena Ravenclaw."

Ollivander laughed. "Yes, Florean certainly does know many tales, passed down to him through generations. And yet," the man continued, bending down to speak even lower, "his tales are mixed with myth and legend. Take them with a grain of salt, eh?"

Harry furrowed his brow, but nodded. Just then Mr. Fortesque came bounding back out into the street, carrying two large containers of ice cream.

"There you are my dear man," he said, holding the ice cream out to Ollivander. "One sugared violet, and one chocolate digestive."

Ollivander grinned and took something from inside his jacket. "Excellent," he said, handing over the package. "A fairer trade I've never done!"

Florean took the long box happily and the shook Ollivander's hand. "Indeed, my dear Ollivander! Take care now, and enjoy!"

They waved each other away and Florean returned to Harry's table. "Had a bit of an accident yesterday, but Ollivander sorted it for me! Blimey!" Mr. Fortesque opened the box to reveal a gleaming new wand. It was very dark wood and poker straight.

"You got a new wand?" Harry asked, watching as Florean carefully removed it from its packaging and held it out into the street. It sparked happily.

"Aye, I dropped my wand into a vat of treacle yesterday. I couldn't get it out and by the time I got my wife's wand it had already been grinded up in the mix. Waste of a perfectly good pot of treacle," he said regretfully, as if he was more upset about the loss of the treacle than his wand. "But, blimey, I haven't had a new wand in…fifty years! Don't remember them looking all nice and polished!"

Harry smiled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "My friend Ron got a new wand last year. His first was a hand-me-down."

Florean shook his head. "Well, you know what Ollivander says, 'The wand chooses the wizard!' though who knows if that's true, with the lot of claptrap that man comes out with!"

Harry snorted, then felt himself flush. When he looked up he saw Florean giving him a curious look.

"Um…" Harry started and then Florean laughed. "He said the same about me, didn't he?"

Harry nodded and was pleased that Florean still looked amused.

"Oh, we differ on the truth alright. I told him I wanted an unbreakable wand this time around and he says, 'There's only one unbreakable wand, Florean, but I'd advise against you seeking it', all ominous-like. I just don't want to boil this one down to dust, yeh know?"

Harry was looking perplexed. "What did he mean though? What's the unbreakable wand made from?" Harry's mind immediately went to something besides wood. Maybe you could get a wand made of steel?

"Oh, it's just a legend, he was taking the mickey. But they it says in the saying, that sort of wand is bad luck. A lot of nonsense if you ask me."

"What saying?" Harry asked, thinking that all of this was much more interesting that witch hunts.

Florean blinked at him. "You've never heard the saying? It's goes something like…Wand of...ah bugger!"

Mr. Fortesque trailed off as they heard a shout from inside the ice cream parlour.

"Where the ruddy hell have you gone off to!" an angry woman was shouting from within. Florean shot to his feet quickly, looking harried. Before he went inside he turned to Harry and said solemnly, "If I teach you nothing else Mr. Potter, heed these words; never marry a red head. There's a saying for you 'Hair of red, wish you were…yeah, yeah I'm coming!" he shouted at the shop when the woman called for him again.

Felt like I had to stop it somewhere! Next up is a glimpse at the Leaky Cauldron. Hopefully you are reading all of Ms. Rowling's new stuff, as this is what these stories are inspired by.