Harry was walking down Diagon Alley. Vendors were calling everywhere, But one caught his eye. He wasn't moving. He wasn't talking. His head was in his arms, an owl, probably his, dropped off a letter. As Harry walked over to him, he began reading it aloud. " Dear Luke, if you cannot maintain sales then the shop will BE PASSED TO YOUR BROTHER, SKIP!' Well, I'll just respond...Mr. Bolt...you ...can...go..to...he-"
"Hello?"
"What?" The boy, probably named Luke, never looked up.
"What do you sell here?"
"Read the sign."
POTIONS
"Can I see your potions?"
"NO. Stare at the marble up there. Now, ...Hell...you...son...of...a..."
Harry stared at the shimmering, cloudy marble. Then a feeling took over.
"LSP. Small. 100 milligrams." Then everything came Back.
"What was that?"
"It's Bewitched. Here we are. Ten Sickles. Fork 'em over."
"For what?"
"An LSP potion."
"What's that?"
"I dunno. You looked into the marble, the potion glowed, so you need to either take the potion like the marble said or buzz off."
"Whatever," Harry answerd, handing over the coins, and gulped it down.