By the time they had finished discussing everything. it was late in the afternoon. Harry greeted Fortescue after getting a sundae—his son had never been able to replicate the flavour that the man had put into his ice cream—and headed back to the Leaky Cauldron to write letters to Ron and Hermione. He'd put it off because he was too worried about how he and Draco would handle third year, but now that they'd mostly discussed everything, he figured that he should at least let his friends know what happened and that he was all right.
After writing letters to both of his friends, Harry instructed Hedwig to take the time to rest before he sent her off to France and then Egypt where the Weasleys were vacationing. Since he was still tired about the amount of powerful magic he'd done last night (not only did time-travelling take a lot out of you, but also getting so furious that your accidental magic blew up your aunt did, too), he went to sleep early.
Hedwig was still gone when Harry woke up early the next morning, not that he'd suspected otherwise. It would likely take her a week to get back to him unless she didn't rest like he'd told her to. Shaking away the thoughts, Harry showered and trotted downstairs. Tom greeted him with a grin and Harry smiled back. The man had died in the war and Hannah Abbott had taken over him. The Leaky Cauldron had improved greatly then, but there was something nostalgic about Tom and his gloomy pub.
As he ate his breakfast, he glanced around at the other patrons. He wasn't quite surprised to see a varying type of people; he saw a few groups of witches and wizards not much older than him enjoying an early brunch, no doubt planning to spend their Sundays together before they had to go back to work tomorrow. There were two small families, both wizarding, and a short stocky man who Harry identified to be a dwarf. They were Beings not unlike Goblins, and annoyingly, this man was not much shorter than Harry. He brooded for a moment and resolved to purchase or brew himself some nutrition potions. He might not have cared much about his health the first time around, but he did not want to be that skinny, starved kid of his past.
Determined, Harry paid for his breakfast and set out for Gringotts. He'd only had some wizarding money left over after last year's shopping, and he was planning on putting a good dent in his vault. He nervously approached the bank and nodded respectfully to any goblins he came across, remembering how hostile the horde had been after his involvement in stealing from Bellatrix's vault and breaking their bank via dragon. They'd managed to come to an accord, with Harry giving half of his trust vault in reparations for the damage done and lives lost, but had always been rather curt and insulting with him after that.
Not that he blamed them, he thought dryly. He would have rightly been pissed, too, and he had been planning to leave Griphook to fend for himself.
Shaking away his thoughts, Harry walked up to one of the tellers and requested to be taken down to his trust vault. He wouldn't be able to access his family vault (the vault in which all Potter family artefacts such as grimoires and old wander were stored) until he reached his majority, mentally of age or not, and he politely thanked the teller when a cart operator collected him.
After a few years of living with the knowledge that his trust vault had all of the Potter money in it, Harry wasn't quite as awed with the piles of gold, silver, and bronze as he had been in his first year. Having taken his money bag from his room before he'd gotten breakfast, Harry shoved the triple amount of money that he usually needed into the bag before being taken to the surface. Thanking the goblin, Harry left for the apothecary.
He'd had to take speciality potions classes in the Auror Academy a few years ago where he learned that there was more to potions than reading some directions and chopping or stirring ingredients. Anyone could properly brew a potion with that knowledge, but as Harry had learned, Herbology usually came hand-in-hand with Potions. It was better if you knew the properties of certain ingredients and how they reacted with one another if you wanted to brew potions. That way, if you needed to substitute something, it could easily be done. And don't get him started on how fire temperature and stirring techniques, let alone ingredient preparation, affected a potion. He'd only begun to learn that in sixth year with Snape's edited version of Advanced Potions Making and had learned even more while studying for his NEWTs and participating in the Academy. For as good as a Defense professor as Snape was that one year, he was an absolutely rubbish Potions teacher. The surly man simply had no patience with 'dunderheads' as he called them, something which was greatly required in brewing potions.
Shaking the thoughts away, Harry selected the year's required ingredients along with a few extra ones. The apothecary had a small selection of books related to healing, and Harry selected two called Simple Maladies and Cures and The Healer's Guide to Simple Solutions, which he was sure had the potions instructions he needed. He also selected the Ingredient Encyclopedia that could be used in both Herbology and Potions, as well as Potions Opuscule written by Arsenius Jigger. He'd pick up more books when he went to Flourish & Blotts.
Someone would have considered his buying all of these books overboard, but Harry intended to take his studies seriously this time around. It wasn't like he hadn't taken his studies seriously the first time he went through school—He'd gotten O's and E's on his OWLs for Merlin's sake—but he knew that this information could be useful later. He also didn't want to give Snape a reason to dislike him even more. One of his regrets about his previous timeline was that he hadn't had a chance to truly get to know the man. Oh, he knew he was a bully, but Snape had loved his mother and had protected him for years despite his dislike of him. He owed it to him to at least try.
When he was finished collecting his potions ingredients, the Alley had gotten crowded. Harry spotted a head of familiar blonde hair up ahead and remembering their conversation yesterday, he followed Draco into the stationery shop.
He picked up a few biros, inkwells, and some journals and parchment for the new year, before heading over to the line of shelves by Draco where a few other students in their year were browsing. Harry just about caught Draco's eye as he slipped around the corner, though the girls he recognized to be Hufflepuffs in his year didn't see him. Harry pretended to browse for a moment and then stumbled blindly around the corner and directly into Draco.
"Oh, sorry—" Harry blurted, his journals falling to the ground.
"Watch where you're going—" spat Draco.
They both paused at the sight of one another as the Hufflepuffs watched on.
"Merlin, Potter, what are you, blind?" Draco said snidely, his nose stuck in the air.
"Sorry," said Harry sardonically, "my apologies, your majesty. I didn't mean to step on your delicate, pureblood toes." He bowed mockingly and detected a hint of amusement in Draco's pale blue eyes. There was a snicker and Draco glared at the Hufflepuffs who just rolled their eyes and walked away.
Harry sent a swift grin at Draco and picked up his journals, heading over to the front counter to purchase his items. Draco followed him out and they pretended to argue but it was really just their regular bickering. If anyone had thought that their becoming partners would stop the fighting, they had had another thing coming. There wasn't a day where they couldn't be heard bickering with one another over one silly thing or another.
Eventually, Harry and Draco parted ways. He hid a pleased grin, having noticed numerous of their peers watching them bicker. The start to their plan, affectionately named "become friends without looking like time travelling idiots," had begun quite well.
Harry would not admit this to Hermione, but he was pretty sure that the bookshops were his new favourite place. Though the smell of parchment and ink wasn't his favourite, it reminded him of Hogwarts. Flourish & Blotts wasn't as packed as the alleyway outside and Harry garnered the attention of the shop attendant without even trying.
"Hogwarts?" said the attendant abruptly. "Come to get your new books?"
"Yes—" said Harry.
"Get out of the way," said the attendant impatiently, brushing Harry aside. He pulled on a pair of very thick gloves and picked up a large stick, heading in the direction of the cage full of numerous fighting copies of The Monster Book of Monsters.
"I've already gotten one of those!" Harry said quickly before the attendant could open the cage. An enormous look of relief spread over the man's face and Harry felt pity for the man. There was a ripping sound as two of the Monster Books began to rip apart a third.
"Stop it! Stop it!" cried the attendant, using his large walking stick to bat the books apart.
"You've just got to stroke them," said Harry, taking pity on the man. The attendant looked at him in bafflement.
"Stroke them?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Just run a finger down their spines."
The attendant did as told and stared in disbelief as the book shuddered and then stopped. "Stroke them, he says!" the man muttered to himself. "You've just got to stroke them! Who the bloody hell… Never again! I'm never stocking them again! I thought we'd seen the worst when we bought two hundred copies of the Invisible Book of Invisibility—cost a fortune, I tell you, and we never found them… Well, thank you, is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Er, no," said Harry. "I'll just take a look around, thanks."
The attendant left, still muttering to himself, and Harry pulled out his booklist. Halfway through gathering his books, he frowned. He'd somehow forgotten that he'd be taking Divination and he found that he really didn't want to take it again. Hearing Trelawney predict his death every week had been tiresome the first time around, he wasn't about to do it again if he didn't have to. That class had been a waste of his time and he was interested in other subjects now. The ritual that had sent him and Draco here had piqued his interest, what with all of the rune circles and ingredients they'd used; and Bill's discussions on Curse-Breaking had been rather interesting indeed…
Harry decided to head to the local owlery after collecting the rest of his school books so that he could owl Professor McGonagall, hopeful that it wasn't too late to change his electives.
When Harry went to purchase his stack of books (his school books, that was, he would be wandering around the second-hand shops and Carkitt Market for other interesting reads to distract him from repeating his schooling), he was surprised when the attendant waived the seven Galleons his books cost.
"For saving me from getting more bites from those blasted books," said the attendant when he'd asked why.
Harry frowned slightly. "Could I ask a favour?" he asked. "Instead of waving my books, would you mind if I pay for the Weasleys' things ahead of time and then you can tell them that they were the thousandth customer or something?"
The man thought for a moment. "Hmm, they're that redhead family, yes? The poor ones?" Harry nodded. It was a good thing Ron wasn't with him; he would have been flushing in shame.
"I suppose, I could," the man said, "In return for you showing me that little trick, of course."
Harry grinned. "Thanks!" he said, paying for his books, as well as handing over thirty Galleons for the Weasleys' stuff. He glanced at his books as he put them in a bag with the same undetectable expansion charm that Hermione had used on her beaded bag. He'd purchased Spellman's Syllabary along with his Charms and Transfiguration texts, planning on asking Professor McGonagall to take Ancient Runes. He didn't know the texts required for Ancient Studies so he'd have to wait for McGonagall to get back with him so he could purchase them later.
The post office was not too far from Flourish & Blotts, so it didn't take long for Harry to write a short but compelling letter to McGonagall to change his subjects before a handsome screech owl was off to Hogwarts.
Harry spent the remaining few hours of daylight wandering the Alleys. Diagon Alley was the most well-known alley within the wizarding village, and thus it had the most well-paying and useful shops, but there was also Horizont Alley that cut across Diagon behind Gringotts, and then Vertic Alley which ran upwards at the market square right behind Gringotts, as well. There was, of course, Knockturn Alley as well as Carkitt Market. Despite some peoples' beliefs, Knockturn Alley was simply a poor district in this wizarding section of Britain. Carkitt Market was near the square behind Gringotts and eventually led to a separate entryway to Knockturn.
It was there he roamed, searching for interesting artifacts or books out of boredom.
Carkitt Market was strangely crowded for early evening on a Monday, but Harry gladly enjoyed the anonymity. His favourite part about Carkitt was the fact that there were so many things to see and buy—from fresh produce to odd trinkets to odd enchanted books. Only intending to browse for the moment, Harry found that he was drawn to all sorts of things. He bought a set of crystals that could be used in small rituals, an expensive-looking but well-loved rune-carving kit, a book on odd runes, and what caught his eye, a large black leather tome.
Harry cast a detection spell on the book when the booth's teller was watching but there weren't any harmful spells on it. Curious, he picked it up and flipped through it. To his immense pleasure, the book had an index and an introductory page.
The Introduction to All Matters of Darke Magick, said the book in looping gold letters. Curiosity peeked, Harry flipped through some of the pages. The section he flipped to had Darke Creatures at the top in stylized text and below it was an introduction to dark creatures and why they were identified as they were. It even had a beautiful ink page covered in dark creatures, the largest one being a monstrous werewolf howling at a full moon.
"Don't touch unless you're buying!" a raspy voice snapped. Harry glanced up at the owner of the booth and flipped the tome closed, idly running a finger down the gold-leafed runes on the spine.
"How much?" Harry asked the booth's owner.
The old man glared down his nose at him and looked at his ratty clothing. As Harry hadn't had a chance to visit any clothing shops yet, he was still dressed in Dudley's stained cast-offs.
"Twenty Galleons," the man snapped.
Harry raised a brow. "Twenty seems to be a bit much for a simple book," he drawled. "I'll give you ten."
"Fifteen or get out of here, kid," the old man growled. Harry shrugged and didn't fight to lower the price any further. He had more than enough Galleons and he had a feeling that this book was worth more than a mere handful of gold.