Chapter 3: Back to the Alley

Harry awoke with a groan, sitting up from where he seemed to have collapsed on the ground in the gym at timeland. He looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. Last I remember, I was… his thoughts trailed off as he tried to remember exactly what he was last doing. He could have sworn he was just in the potions lab. So how did I get here? He stood up, twisting a little bit as he stretched, then looked around, still confused.

On the ground by his feet, he spotted a small piece of paper, and what looked to be an empty potion vial. Reaching down to grab them, Harry was at first confused to discover his handwriting on the page. After reading the message, however, he understood.

Temporary forgetfulness potion test. Do you remember what you hid and where?

Although he was still slightly confused, Harry couldn't suppress a smile as he began to put the pieces together. He had been in the potions lab. And he remembered that there were several potions he had been interested in experimenting with to learn how they worked. Apparently, he had decided to give it a try.

He looked at the message once more. It clearly stated that it was a temporary forgetfulness potion. That meant that he could take the antidote anytime in the next 5 days, according to his mother's notes, in order to restore his memory. But first, he might as well test out the potion.

Harry wandered from room to room, looking for anything that might remind him of what he had forgotten. It didn't take overly long to wander through all of timeland. He was very familiar with the whole facility, after all. He had taken to spending his nights here in what he now knew was called a time compression vault. He spent 8 hours of earth time, which translated to an extra 25 days. This was the ninth night he had spent here, meaning that he had already had more than 200 extra days to learn about magic.

He had used that time well. He had already covered the spells in all of his first year books, and had begun reading books from the second year material that he had found in the library. He had brewed a few simple potions and was learning about some more advanced potions (which evidently lead to his current situation). He had even learned to fly a broom (which was not terribly difficult, at least in his opinion) and had read about that Quidditch game he had heard of while in Diagon Alley.

After a few more minutes of wandering, Harry was finally ready to concede that the potion seemed to work like it was supposed to. He didn't see anything that prompted any new memories. Of course, some of his mother's notes had mentioned a skill called Occlumency which might interfere with the potion, but there wasn't anything he could do about that now. He had discovered a small crystal which would supposedly teach him occlumency through defending against increasingly powerful mental intrusions, but he hadn't begun working on that yet. In fact, everything he had read suggested that developing sufficient skill to guard against mind-altering spells and potions would take years of dedicated study.

He walked back to the potions lab, and quickly grabbed the counteragent to the forgetfulness potion. His eyes trailed over the many potions held in the stasis cupboard. As always, he was amazed by just how many there were. And he had only begun to scratch the surface on the uses for them all. He had used the aging potion frequently, of course. Every day, he needed to buy enough food to last for the weeks he would spend in timeland that night. If a preteen was seen purchasing that much food, it would certainly have raised a few eyebrows. Fortunately, one vial of aging potion was enough to make him look like he was in his mid 20's and lasted four hours, allowing him to go shopping then wait in the time vault until the potion wore off.

He walked into his room, and lay down on the bed, not wanting a repeat of the uncomfortable position he had woken up in. Harry uncorked the vial, and quickly swallowed the contents. After just a few seconds, the room began to spin, and his vision grew hazy. Harry struggled to focus, but it was in vain. Everything went dark.

The boy found himself floating in a great darkness. He looked all around the massive abyss in which he found himself, but there was nothing to see. Emptiness everywhere he looked. He tried to remember how he got here, but he couldn't remember anything. He couldn't even remember who he was! Just as panic began to set in, his memories began to come back. Not like a movie playing. No, he suddenly knew things without any way of knowing how he knew them. A bright flash of light startled him, and he found himself in the potions lab in timeland, looking at the potions in the stasis shelves. Relieved to be somewhere familiar, he tried to turn his head to look at the clock on the wall, but was horrified to find that he couldn't move.

Harry (yes, that's who he was. Harry!) felt as though he was trapped in his body, a body being controlled by someone else. He was simply a passenger along for the ride as his body ran a finger along the shelf, pausing occasionally to look at the names of the various potions. Finally settling on one labeled Forgetfulness Potion (Temporary), he walked back to the desk, and pulled out his mother's notes on the potion, as well as a book which contained the standard recipe for the potion. He was unsurprised to note that his mother had made several modifications to the recipe. That was quite common it seemed. After all, no successful potions master would so easily reveal all the secrets to their craft.

After several minutes of study, Harry glanced at the clock, and then found himself doing some mental calculations. The potion was supposed to erase the last hour from a person's memory. He had been reading for maybe 5 minutes, so he had another 55 or so to go before he would take the potion. In the meantime, he should get some things ready.

He wrote a quick note out on the paper (and wasn't that a weird feeling, as he experienced his past self deciding what to write down on a piece of paper that he had already read once before), then walked into what he called the gear room, and pondered the various enchanted objects in front of him. All sorts of artifacts could be found in here. It seemed that both his parents had made a habit of collecting anything with unique magical abilities. According to his mother's diary, his father had been quite a prankster while at school, and made use of many enchanted devices to aid in his pranking endeavors (and later on, in the war effort), while his mother was more interested in the academic approach, trying to determine how the various enchantments worked.

Harry turned around a few times, looking for something suitable. He finally settled on a small wooden box, about the size of one of the toys Dudley had been given years ago, a strange mental puzzle called a Rubits Cube, or something like that. (Why anyone thought Dudley would be interested or even capable of solving a mental puzzle was something Harry had never figured out.)

Harry was very familiar with this particular item. It was an emergency kit that his parents had put together. Several space expanded compartments held various supplies that could be useful in a variety of situations, which made it a very logical and useful possession for people in the middle of a civil war.

Once more, Harry was struck by the strangeness of the situation, as he was powerless to resist as his past self walked forward and grabbed the kit. He strode out of the room. He could feel his past self growing more and more excited at the idea of the test he would soon be implementing as he looked for a good place to hide it. Finally, he tucked the kit behind a few of the books on a shelf in the library, being careful to ensure that the books still lined up in the front, so as not to leave any trace that something was hidden back there. He glanced at his watch, and was slightly disappointed to see that he still had a little more than half an hour to go before he could take the potion and begin the test.

He made his way over to the gym, setting an alarm on the clock on the wall for 25 minutes and began to work on his Quidditch skills. According to the book he had read, called "Quidditch Throughout the Ages", the seeker was usually the smallest and fastest player on the team, which he felt suited him just fine. Quickly climbing onto the broom, he activated the snitch and both bludgers (set on the lowest difficulty level, of course) and went to work, flying swiftly to avoid the bludgers targeting him as he chased after the snitch. It didn't take too long to catch the elusive winged ball, after which he let it go and began the process again.

He had caught the snitch several times when the alarm went off. A quick command deactivated the bludgers, and all the quidditch balls returned to the small cupboard where they were stored. He flew down to the cubby where he had left his gear, and grabbed the potion. Suppressing a momentary spike of anxiety, he uncorked the vial and quickly downed the potion.

Once more Harry found the room growing dark, then with a soft cry, he shot up from the bed where he lay, his heart beating rapidly. He brought his hands in front of his face, relieved that he once more had control of his body. His heartrate and breathing returned to normal as he realized that it was over, and things were back to normal. He stood up, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand, a small frown crossing his face when he saw that the potion had taken a full hour to run its course. Apparently, reliving the memory he had lost occurred in real time. Slightly inconvenient, he thought, but on the whole, not too bad.

He walked into the library, and approached the shelf in question, taking a moment to study it. It was exactly like he had seen in the memory. Pulling the books on the left side of the shelf off, he was unsurprised to see his parents' kit hidden behind the books. He grabbed the kit, replaced the books, then walked over to the gear room to put the kit back where it belonged, tossing it up and catching it a few times as he walked.

When he made it to the gear room, he paused, and looked at the kit a bit more closely. It seemed like such a waste to have such a useful item, and just leave it here all the time. Resolving to find some way to unobtrusively carry it with him from now on, he walked back to his room to begin getting ready for bed. The experience with the forgetfulness potion still weighing heavily on his thoughts, he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on much else for a little while.

After brushing his teeth, he sat down in the comfortable recliner next to the bed and grabbed a book from the nightstand. He had never really been particularly enthusiastic about reading, but that was an inevitable result of being punished anytime he inadvertently revealed that he was more intelligent than Dudley. Not that being more intelligent than Dudley was a particularly difficult achievement.

However, having spent several months here in timeland, Harry needed to find someway to pass the time when he wasn't working or studying, and books had filled the void in his life. He had taken a particular interest in fantasy and science fiction. He flipped the book open to where the bookmark lay, and continued reading about the brave Hobbit, Frodo, and his quest to destroy the One Ring.

The days passed quickly. Even with how much time he had already spent here, there was still so much more for Harry to do and to learn. He continued experimenting with some of the potions. Fortunately, none of the others affected him as drastically as the forgetfulness potion. Still, it was very strange to look in the mirror and see that his hair had been changed to a different color, or his eyes, or that his ears or nose were now noticeably larger or smaller. Many of the potions he decided to just read about the effects without testing them out, as they seemed potentially harmful. He was very tempted to use the potion called Unctuous Unction on his relatives. Supposedly it would make them think he was their best friend. He held off for now, but resolved to keep it in mind for next summer.

And now, it was once again time for him to go back to the real world. Fortunately, it would be for just a matter of hours, and then he would be back here where he belonged. He stood up from the chair where a pair of enchanted scissors had been cutting his hair, an important ritual to ensure that his relatives didn't notice any change in his appearance. He swept the hair off the floor, then made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. He paused to look in the mirror, studying himself closely.

He had now spent 12 nights in timeland, which equated to 300 extra days. While a part of him knew that he should be worried that he was nearly a year older than he should be, Harry couldn't really bring himself to care. These past months had been the best of Harry's life, without a doubt. And it showed. He was eating healthy food, and always had as much as he needed. He made sure to exercise at least one hour every day. He had even checked out some books from the library on how to exercise and maintain a healthy lifestyle, and he could say with certainty that the ideas he'd read had worked.

After showering, he quickly got dressed, and checked to make sure that he had everything he needed. He pulled on a pair of cargo pants, and checked that the emergency kit was in the hidden, space expanded pocket on the right leg. He put the new glasses he had purchased a week ago back on the nightstand, and put the old ones back on, once more cursing the Dursley's hatred for magic that made the deception necessary.

He walked out of the room, and down the hall to the large, black cabinet lurking in the far corner. He stepped in, then walked out into the room of the trunk back in his bedroom at #4. Climbing up out of the trunk, he turned back around to shut the lid and shrink the trunk back to its smaller size, then picked it up and carefully placed it in the expanded pocket on his left leg. Just like always. He stretched for a few minutes, then walked downstairs and began to make breakfast.

His uncle left for work right after breakfast (without a word of thanks, as always), and after he had finished washing the dishes, his aunt sent him outside with a list of chores. He was quite confident that these chores were nothing but made up work to keep him busy, but he didn't particularly care. After all, his healthy lifestyle book said that it was a good thing to spend some time outdoors, which was quite rare for him, given how much time he spent at timeland.

After a few hours, he was unsurprised to hear the garage door open, and his aunt's car drive off. He walked over to the back door, and tried the handle. Not surprisingly, she had locked the door, but that didn't matter to Harry. He had long ago made a copy of the key, using the aging potions to avoid any questions.

He walked into the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water, taking a moment to look at the calendar thoughtfully. Tuesday the 21st. That means I have a little under two weeks left before I leave for Hogwarts.

While before, the idea of going to Hogwarts had filled him with equal measures of anticipation and apprehension, now he was remarkably unconcerned. After all his practice, he knew that he would do as well as any of his peers. That wasn't to say that he wasn't excited. He was certainly curious about what it would really be like for him to experience it first hand, but after reading his mother's diaries, he had a pretty good idea of what to expect at Hogwarts. Or, at least, I think I do…

That particularly train of thought trailed off as Harry reconsidered his situation. Everything he knew about magical culture came from his mother's words, and while he had no doubts that his mother was very intelligent, she was still just one person. Further, there must have been some changes to magical society in the time since she was there. After all, there had been a magical civil war. That's the type of thing that would probably result in some major changes.

Harry glanced over at the calendar once more. On Thursday, his aunt had several appointments that would likely keep her out and about for most of the day. Not that such an occurrence was particularly unusual – she seemed to be going out of her way to find reasons to spend as little time as possible at the house these days. With Dudley always out with friends, she probably didn't want to be stuck here with Harry.

Harry washed the glass he used, careful to leave no trace that he had been inside, then walked out to the backyard, being sure to lock the door behind him, mind racing as he made plans.

Thursday morning dawned bright and clear. Last night, Harry had snuck outside and made a mess of a few things. Undoubtedly, his aunt would attribute it to the pets of one of the neighbors, but he would be stuck with the job of cleaning it up. Not that he was bothered by this. In fact, he was counting on it.

He had long ago realized that his aunt paid more attention to appearances that anything else. So long as things looked good when she got home, she would assume that he had completed all of his assigned tasks. Having several very obvious problems when she left meant that as long as they were cleaned up when she returned, she wouldn't look any closer – she was far too lazy for that.

Once more, the inhabitants of Number Four enacted their usual morning ritual. Vernon left for work, Dudley left to play with his friends, Harry went outside to complete his jobs, moaning under his breath about how it would take all day to complete the full list of chores. It wasn't long before he heard Petunia leave, and he sprang into action.

Running back into the house so that none of the neighbors could see him, he quickly resized his trunk and made his way to timeland. One quick shower later, he was standing in the potions room. He knew that he didn't want to go back to Diagon Alley as Harry Potter. That would draw too much attention. There were several options for going in disguise. He had first considered Polyjuice potion, but that would only last for one hour before needing an additional dose, and would change his size to match the person he was imitating. He wanted to buy some casual wizarding clothes, which meant that he couldn't change sizes. As a result, he had decided to use a few of the more basic disguising potions he had. A few potions later and Harry was now blue-eyed, with light brown hair, a disguise that should last for 12 hours. A baseball cap to cover the tell-tale scar, and he was ready to go.

He pocketed the trunk once more and walked back outside. He clutched a small amulet that he had found in the gear room, which had been enchanted with a notice-me-not charm (supposedly causing people to ignore you). He used it when he went shopping to prevent people from realizing that he was putting several weeks' worth of food into a relatively small backpack. Given that he hadn't been discovered yet, he assumed that it must work.

He walked down to the park, and then along one of the side streets until he found a stretch that seemed completely deserted, with large trees blocking the view from the nearby houses. He took a deep breath, and raised his wand up, giving it a little shake as recommended in the book he read.

Less than 30 seconds later, just as he was hoping, a large, bright purple bus popped into existence right in front of him. Even though he was expecting it, the boy was still startled, but quickly calmed himself.

A middle-aged man in a rather… unusual purple uniform stepped out of the bus and began to speak in a completely disinterested voice.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," he said, then added in a quiet voice, "or anyone too lazy or stupid to get a floo connection or learn to apparate." He once more forced a smile on his face, as he continued, "Just stick out your wand hand (though you obviously already know that), step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Gerald Farnshaw, and I will be your conductor this morning."

Somewhat taken aback by the rote and, at times, sarcastic greeting, Harry quickly rallied and stepped on board, trying to project confidence as he smiled at the man. "How much to the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked.

"11 sickles," the man replied, still looking as disinterested as humanly possible.

"Does it have to be exact, or can I get change for a galleon?" Harry inquired as he pulled out the small money pouch he had received at Gringotts all that time ago.

"Galleon's fine," the man said, then quickly plucked the offered coin out of Harry's hand, depositing it into a box on the wall. A small number of sickles fell out of the box onto a tray. Farnshaw grabbed the money and dropped it in Harry's hand. "Find an empty seat, and be quick about it," he ordered, then began to stare absentmindedly out of the window.

The bus was mostly empty when Harry sat down a few seats back from the front. No sooner had his butt touched the seat then the bus was off with a loud bang. Harry stared in wonder as trashcans, lightpoles, and even people seemed to leap out of the way, only to return to their original position once the bus had passed. Once more amazed at the things magic could do, Harry turned his mind back to his upcoming visit to the Alley, mentally reviewing the list of things he wanted to get done.

Just a few minutes later, the bus stopped, almost quickly enough to give Harry whiplash.

"Leaky Cauldron," came the monotone announcement from the front. Harry walked quickly to the front, stepping out of the bus, followed by a small, stooped witch with thick glasses and a cane. He walked into the pub and approached the bar. The toothless owner, Tom, was wiping the counter down with a rag.

"Excuse me, sir, can you open up the wall to the alley for me?" Harry requested, still trying to project confidence.

"Certainly, young man," Tom said with a smile. Then he frowned for a moment. "Are your parents here?"

"No," Harry replied with a smile. "Mum just dropped me off while she had to go run some errands. I'm a muggleborn, you see."

"Ah, very well then, let's get you back to the alley," Tom said, as he set the rag down and began walking to the back.

As the wall opened, Harry thanked the old man, and stepped through into the chaos of the magical world's primary shopping district.

Several hours later, a thoroughly exhausted Harry walked into Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. He sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh, then looked up at the signs announcing the various sizes and flavors available. He heard someone chuckling softly, and turned to find an old man in an apron with a small smile on his face.

"You look like you've had a long day, young man," he said.

"Yes," Harry responded. "Very long. Not quite as productive as I'd hoped, though."

"Well, then at least you can end it on a rather tasty note. Let's get you some ice-cream. What would you like?"

Harry turned his attention back to the signs. "I'll go for a cone with two scoops of strawberry, please."

The man quickly put the scoops on the cone, then studied Harry for a moment, before adding a third scoop. "Extra one is on the house. You look like you could use it, lad," he said, then handed the cone to Harry.

"Thank you very much, sir" Harry replied.

"No need for the sir. Just call me Florean. Everyone does." The now named man walked over to the front of the store, tidying up a few things here and there as he went.

"Well then, thank you very much, Florean," Harry said with a smile.

"So, what is it that you were hoping to do today?" Florean asked

Harry shrugged. "I'm a muggleborn," he began, "so I wanted to learn a little bit more about Hogwarts and magical society. I've just been wandering around the Alley, trying to just…" his voice trailed off as he tried to think of a good way to explain what he was doing. "I guess I'm just trying to get a feel for it all. Everyone is willing to give me facts about stuff, but most of it is either condescending about how lucky I am to not be stuck in the poor muggle world anymore, or just propaganda about how amazing the magical world is, and how fortunate I am to go to Hogwarts with the great Albus Dumbledore, especially in the year the Harry Potter is going to be starting."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then turned back to Florean. "I just feel like there has to be a whole lot that I'm not being told. I mean, a decade ago, magical society was in a civil war, and now it's like everyone tries to pretend it didn't happen. I've read about Goblin rebellions in the book for my magical history class, but now they apparently run the bank! Even when I ask what Hogwarts is like, I feel like people are just giving me empty answers that sound nice, rather than a real picture of the school."

Florean chuckled. "You've certainly put a lot of thought into this." He walked over to where Harry was sitting, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "Well, as you can see, I'm not particularly busy right now," he said, waving at the empty room. "Ask a few questions. I'll give you the best answer I can."

Harry looked at him for a moment, before taking him up on his offer. "Okay. Hogwarts. What's it really like? Did you go there? Do you know who teaches there? What are the teachers like? Is it really as good of a school as everyone says? If people say it's the best school, does that mean that there are other schools? Why would there be other schools if Hogwarts is the best?"

Florean sighed. "Those are all very good questions, and I can see why many of my fellow shop keepers wouldn't necessarily want to get into those questions too much, particularly with a muggleborn student. Hogwarts is a good school, but it's not perfect. Not everyone has the opportunity to go to Hogwarts. All muggleborns go to Hogwarts, and employees of the Ministry of Magic get to send their kids there as a perk of their employment. Many old families have a certain number of spots each generation, and there are various other situations that allow a child to go to that school. For example, in my situation, my grandfather Dexter Fortescue was the headmaster many years ago, which allowed me to attend, as well as my children. My grandchildren, however, have had to go to a different school. There is the perception that Hogwarts students are all but guaranteed a good job when the graduate, which leads to some bitterness from people that didn't get to go. Most of the people you would have talked to here in the alley probably didn't have the chance to attend Hogwarts, so they might not be overly pleased to be talking about it."

Florean took a deep breath, and sat back in his chair, thinking for a moment before continuing. "To be honest with you, I'm not sure that Hogwarts is particularly deserving of its reputation. Education has always been a little bit of a hobby of mine, and some of the things I know about Hogwarts, both from my experiences and what I've heard from kids these days is a little bit concerning. History of Magic, for example, is particularly galling. For more than 2 centuries, the course at Hogwarts has been taught by a ghost who drones on in a perfect monotone, lecturing endlessly and almost exclusively about goblin rebellions."

Florean looked at Harry. "Have you ever heard the saying, 'those who do not learn their history are doomed to repeat it?'" At Harry's nod, he continued, "I can't help but feel that our society has a tendency to repeat the problems it faces because our leaders attended a school that did not bother to teach them their history. And unfortunately, Binns is not the biggest problem in my mind."

"A far greater problem, in my opinion, is the potions professor, Severus Snape. He is an exceedingly unpleasant man with little if any teaching ability whose primary goal in life seems to be making the students besides those in his house miserable. Given that potions is required for a career as a healer or an Auror… a magical policeman," he clarified at seeing Harry's confused look, "employing someone like that in such a key position can have a very detrimental affect on magical society as a whole."

Florean once more leaned back in his chair. "But the real problem, I think, lies with Albus Dumbledore. You'll see him once you get to Hogwarts. He goes out of his way to cultivate the appearance of an eccentric but harmless old man. Many people would probably describe him as being grandfatherly. But what they forget is that he wields a great deal of power in magical Britain, and he has held onto that power for years. The congenial appearance hides the wily old politician beneath the surface. He hasn't maintained that power for so long without being far more crafty and clever than most people suspect. And while, in truth, I can't say that I know the man, from what I have seen, I think he is far more deceptive than most. For example, he has spent the last decade consolidating power by suggesting, but never outright claiming, that if he had been in charge, You-know-who would never have been as successful as he was. Of course, he ignores the fact that he was the one who suggested many of the policies which lead to the ministry being shockingly ineffective in the beginning stages of the war."

"He also has managed to portray himself as Harry Potter's guide and supporter." Florean once more looked closely at Harry. "Something that I think we both know is not true," he finished.

Harry looked at the ice cream man, surprise evident on his features. Florean chuckled. "James Potter was a frequent visitor to my shop many years ago, as was Lily Evans. The colors may be different, but the shape of your face is quite familiar. And while the hat covers most of the scar, I can see just a little bit of it below the brim."

"Sorry about lying to you earlier," Harry apologized, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Florean shook his head. "Not a problem. It was quite clever of you, really. If you wanted to learn more, it would defeat the purpose to announce your identity. Now, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself. Maybe I can help explain things better if I know where you're coming from."

So Harry explained about his life up to that point, and his experience in the Alley the last time he came (as well as he could remember, at least). Some things he obviously kept secret, such as exactly how poorly the Dursleys treated him, and about timeland, but still, for the most part, he was honest with Florean. He didn't know how long he had been talking when he finally finished, his throat slightly sore from talking so much.

Florean allowed the silence to fill the room for a few minutes before responding. "I'm guessing that's the first time you've really told your story to anyone, right?" Harry nodded, and he continued. "It's a good thing you're approaching this with your eyes wide open. You're going to need to be careful as you re-enter the wizarding world. I'm assuming you know about You-know-who?" He waited for just a brief moment for Harry's affirmative nod before continuing. "He had many followers, called Death Eaters, some of whom managed to avoid prison. They might be willing to harm or kill you as a way of getting revenge for their master."

"I found some of my parents' old notes. They were trying to identify Death Eaters that they could go after. Severus Snape was one of their suspects. Apparently, he and my mum were friends when they were younger, but he changed, and embraced the blood superiority movement as he got older."

"From what I know, I wouldn't be surprised if they were correct about that," Florean said quietly, "which makes Dumbledore's decision to hire him all the more suspicious." His voice trailed off, before he visibly shook himself out of his thoughts and continued.

"But it's not just the Death Eaters that you need to be aware of. Everyone in Magical Britain knows about you. There's books and dolls and costumes and all sorts of things celebrating the Boy Who Lived. Many people will expect you to behave just like the version of you they read about, and might even get upset with you when you don't match their expectations. The fact is, you're getting thrown into the deep end of this particular pool without any sort of explanation or training on how to handle it. There will be some that will resent you for not being exactly like they expect. There will be some that will try to take advantage of you for your fame or wealth. There will be some that will look down on you for your inexperience with magical culture and customs. And since you are very famous, everyone will always be watching."

A feeling of dread settled into the pit of Harry's stomach. On some level, he had already known these things. That was why he had spent so long in timeland, learning the material and practicing the spells he would need to know. But to hear someone else say it so plainly was difficult to hear.

Florean smiled encouragingly at Harry. "I know it's a lot to take in all at once, but I will help you as much as I can." He glanced over at the clock on the wall. "It's almost 4. Can you stay longer, or do you need to be getting home?"

Harry sighed. "I should probably head home," he said reluctantly.

"Well, you're welcome to come back any time you want. Think about what I said. Write down any questions you have, and we can discuss them the next time you stop by."

Harry stood with a smile. "Thank you, Florean. You've been a big help."

Florean shook his head dismissively. "Our society owes you and your parents a great deal, young man. I'm glad for the chance to repay even just a little bit of that debt. And don't worry about the ice cream," he added as Harry reached for his money. "It's on the house."

Thanking Florean again, Harry walked out of the store, his mind awhirl as he thought back on the conversation he had just had.