Vorfreude:

The joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures

As Harry walked away from Lucius, he wondered what the man's next move would be. He showed part of his hand in a gamble to see how useful Lucius could be by showing off this magic, his intelligence, and his cunning. The greatest risk that Harry had taken was revealing his hand prematurely by implying that he had plans for Lucius and whether the man cooperated or not mattered little because he had the means to make Lucius work with him. He supposed he wouldn't know until Lucius deigned to contact him. He was a bit curious to see how Lucius would go about in doing so since he had a few options.

If Lucius chose to use an owl, the man fell below Harry's expectations as delivering letters by owls means allowing the potential risk of intercepted letters. A man who was willing to risk that, or hadn't even realized such a possibility, would need to be controlled by more forceful means, likely by Harry commanding Lucius as the Ruling Lord over the Vassal House of Malfoy.

Going through Gringotts to contact Harry was another method available. Harry did imply that he had familiarized himself with the bank and consequently, the goblins. Sending a correspondence by Gringotts was far more secure and would show Harry that Lucius could actually use his brain to find a more secure way of communication using the hints of information Harry helpfully left for him.

Although he very much doubted that such a prideful man would resort to contacting Harry in person to arrange for a private meeting, that was also another option. From what he gathered on Voldemort, the Dark Lord was a man who demanded subservience from his followers. Should Lucius choose such a method, it showed Harry that the man was willing to let go of his pride in matters that wouldn't require him to do so because of the power Harry wielded and displayed.

Harry was a firm believer in the carrot and stick method that revolved on fairness. In a world which reeked of injustices and unfairness, loyalty and devotion was more easily gained by maintaining fairness, in dolling out praise and rewards when warranted and discipline and punishments as well. Loyalty went both ways and if Harry knew that someone was truly loyal to him, he would make sure that loyalty was mutual. He would make sure those loyal to them knew without a doubt that just as they would offer aid as he needed, he would do the same for him.

Lucius Malfoy would be a useful ally and Harry preferred to gain the man's loyalty naturally. Such a man would not place blind loyalty into Harry but would judge and see if Harry was worthy of following and when Lucius chose to step in line behind Harry, others would follow. The man was intelligent and cunning enough to avoid a severe punishment following the Dark Lord's fall by claiming that he was under the Imperius Curse, knowing when to choose his battles—realizing that while it would imply he was weak-willed, who wouldn't under the Dark Lord's control.

Truly, Harry did hope that Lucius didn't fall short of his expectation. Lucius's decision to warn Harry of Dumbledore showed that he was right in his decision to approach the wary man. He was at the top of the social pecking order and he didn't get to the top by just playing nice. A man as powerful as him was wise to be so wary of Dumbledore and it was an incredibly risky move to warn Harry, the famed Boy-Who-Lived of Dumbledore when most believed that Harry was firmly under the Old Geezer's thumb.

Harry liked that in a person. It was important to know when to choose your battles and when one had to be willing to make a move despite the risks. The decisiveness necessary to execute something even knowing the risks was a valuable quality rarely found in people and that made Harry want Lucius on his side even more. As Harry walked away from Lucius, he wondered where Knockturn Alley would be located. The description that Griphook gave him gave Harry the image of a magical equivalent of the black market. He had seen how literal the Wizarding World appeared to be based on his observations of Diagon Alley, so Harry figured that, since Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley were both alleys, he would just keep walking until he found the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Harry could kill two birds with one stone since he could still explore the rest of Diagon Alley and still search for the entrance to Knockturn Alley. So far, he had only gotten to visit Gringotts Bank and Flourish and Blott's so there was still plenty of stores for him to he could have simply looked for Knockturn Alley by looking at the bright hues of magic which surrounded Diagon Alley and focused on finding the dark spot that was Knockturn Alley, it was a bit of an eye-sore to see all of the varying shades of magic.

Magic was everywhere. It was a far cry from the bland, almost colorless world of the Muggle World in comparison to the enrichened environment of colorful magic that swirled and danced around in the very air. While it was a beautiful sight, it was countered by the budding headache that built up and how it lingered in his eyespots like sunspots from staring at the sun for too long. He wasn't used to what he christened as his Mage Sight, to seeing such a sight either and while it was a enchanting sight, there were still less flattering hues of magic which literally didn't sit well him as they were so murky and dull and made him nauseous, as though he was seconds from vomiting even while a hand was clenched around his stomach—an all-around, downright awful sensation.

Worse was the tingling sensation, which he cleverly named Mage Sense—his naming sense had dried up after he named the different magics that he could see and feel. It reminded him of the pins-and-needles whenever one of his limbs had fallen asleep. The pins-and-needles sensation enveloped his entire body, weak at first until it slowly grew in intensity as he was led to Gringotts Bank by Daedalus. By the time he had left Flourish and Blotts with Lucius in tow, it was much, much stronger as he was practically a massage chair on its highest setting.

Overall, Harry didn't exactly want to spend the remainder of his time exploring Diagon Alley distracted and uncomfortable. He was intimately aware of his magic ever since he had come to the revelation that he was cut from a different cloth than people like the Dursley's. Harry wanted to hit all the shops in Diagon Alley, but he wasn't exactly pressed for time, so he didn't want to rush himself. He did ask Griphook for a recommendation of someplace to stay, subtly implying that he wanted to stay somewhere that was discreet and wouldn't pay much attention to him.

Harry was intimately aware of his magic, likely because of the sheer necessity in being able to fully utilize it just to survive. Controlling his reaction to magic and how it literally colored his vision and made him tingly all-around was crucial. He didn't think it would be as simple as keeping a tight hold on his magic, especially when it was something he already did—to the point that he no longer needed to consciously concentrate on such an action.

His magic was like a muscle that was already potent in its amount from the beginning, tempered by its near-constant usage throughout his upbringing in how it initially manifested by healing his wounds. Harry supposed that if regular witches and wizards could see what he could see, they would ironically call him a freak of monstrous proportions. But because his magic could be likened to a muscle, it could be used like a muscle, almost "flexing" it to do as he wanted; in this case, to turn off his Mage Sight and Mage Sense.

Harry didn't close his eyes. He reached out for his magic and smiled as it matched him, so eager to please and so very protective of him—perhaps part of his magic was lingering traces of his mother's sheer intent to protect him—and concentrated on the want to see only what everyone else could see, what only everyone else could feel. He compared his magic to a muscle, but in the end, everything about magic was about intent and the how well it could be backed up.

He watched as the colors faded with every blink and how the pins-and-needles slowly left, decreasing in intensity as it downgraded from faint needle-pricks to weak vibrations, to nothing at all. It was satisfying and an utter relief, an instant mood lifter that Harry wanted to maintain throughout his exploration of Diagon Alley.

Just judging by its name, the Screaming Banshee was a shady-sounding inn that was located in an equally shady location. Finding the Screaming Banshee was his secondary objective to exploring Diagon Alley since he still had plenty of time. On the plus side, the Wizarding World was significantly lax on their views of childcare since no one particularly batted an eyelash at Harry walking around on his lonesome. In the Muggle World, people would definitely show some concern over an eight-year-old boy wandering around without any adult supervision.

When he first entered Diagon Alley with Daedalus, they had gone straight to Gringotts since he needed to see if he had any existing accounts based on what he had learned from Daedalus' loose lips. Harry supposed he would explore the shops on the same shops bunched next to Flourish and Blott's and then circle back to the other side.

Conveniently next to the bookstore was Scribbulus Writing Implements, which Harry figured was a general stationary shop. The Wizarding World was clearly behind in sophisticated civilization in comparison to the Muggle World, playing on the typical witches' and wizards' stereotypes of using wands and brooms, making potions in cauldrons, and even wearing pointy hats and long robes from what he had seen thus far. He wondered if there was another wizarding society that managed to integrate muggle technology and magic seamlessly.

There was a practice bundle with so-called practice quills and parchment paper designed to get Muggleborns acquainted with such unfamiliar tools that Harry quickly tossed into his basket. He tossed several handfuls of peacock-feather quills, eagle-feather quills, pheasant-feather quills, knowing that the feathers belonging to its respective birds had varying quality and likely suited different purposes. Different color inks were tossed in as well, such as plain black, an assortment of colors that belonged in the rainbow, and even ink enchanted to respond to one's mood or simply shift between the colors of the rainbow. Parchment made from calfskin, sheepskin, and goatskin in several different colors were quickly tossed. Harry resolved to test the quality of the quills on the different types of parchment to see which suited what.

Quality Quidditch Supplies appeared to be a sports-gear shop meant for a magical sport played on broomsticks. While the sport itself was not something that had caught Harry's attention, he did recognize the value of owning a broom for himself. The latest model was the Swallow 360, which was advertised to be capable of handling sharp and narrow turns, reaching full acceleration within ten seconds, and emergency cushioning charms that could be disabled.

There was ice cream parlor next door—Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Harry had never gotten the opportunity to necessarily try any ice cream of his choice as Petunia only ever bought him ice cream alongside Dudley to keep people from asking questions that she didn't want to answer. She made sure to order his least favorite ice cream and force him to finish it up so that her money was never wasted. Plus, he was curious to see the difference between Muggle and Magical ice cream.

Harry peered through the glass and chose to try vanilla, orange, lemon, blueberry, mango, green tea, lavender, raspberry, and peach. They were all tame flavors in comparison to the downright crazy flavors he had read, but he preferred it that way. With a test of each flavor he had selected, Harry purchased a cup with a scoop of orange, mango, and peach respectively. He quickly thanked Florean for the ice cream and exited the parlor.

There were some tables and seats outside and Harry took no time at all in sitting down to simply savor the taste of his ice cream. It was still midday and the sun outside was casting down, slightly tampered by the typical gray clouds of London weather. It was neither too warm nor too cool outside and Harry deemed it as the perfect setting to eat ice cream.

Harry moved on to Second-Hand Bookshop, exactly what it sounded. While most people, pretty much everyone from Privet Drive and especially the Dursley's, would look down at secondhand shops on principle, it was a hidden gem that hid priceless treasures. In the Muggle World, thrift stores were great to find treasures that unwitting people had handed over, and he was positive that the same could transfer over in the Wizarding World.

He entered the store which was much larger inside than outside and just chalked it up to magic. Harry figured that was a general explanation that fit the bill to anything inexplainable—magic was the answer to practically anything in a world of wonders. There was a young woman behind the counter, far more enthralled by whatever book they were reading to pay any attention to Harry, and he didn't fault them for that.

He wondered over the books and how it would look through his Mage Sight, to see the catena—magic anchored to inanimate objects—and how it would feel if he turned his Mage Sense back on. With what little he knew of magic in general, he supposed it wasn't far off to think that books could be imbued with magic, practically saturated in an abundance of magic simply from its exposure to magic in general.

Harry turned his Mage Sight and Mage Sense on, very thankful that just as his Sight and Sense gradually faded away, it also came back gradually. He could see the bookshelves lined with varying shades of gray catena—magic anchored to inanimate objects—which he supposed were meant to be wards to prevent shoplifting and otherwise. The catena differed in intensity and Harry supposed he wasn't too far off to assume that the different shades of gray indicated the strength of the wards meant to protect the books, likely based on how innocent of a book it was for its intended audience. He didn't think a secondhand bookstore would be able to properly appraise its books and understand the full selling value of it.

Harry chose to take his time, slowly inching his way through the aisles as he carefully read the titles of each book. He released a thin coil of his magic, practically undetectable, to act as a probe to each of the books, measuring the book's reaction to his magic and how his magic would react to the book. It was a slow-going process but not one that he was in any mood to rush when there was a possibility that he could find something of value.

Even if he didn't find anything, he was meticulously cataloguing each book into his memory so that a future visit to the shop would take less time. All Harry would need to do was release a faint pulse of his magic similar to a sonar radar on a submarine—aptly named Mage Sensor—to find any new books and see if there were any books under a disguise or otherwise. It was a worthwhile payoff that would allow him to kill two birds with one stone.

He hit jackpot when he found a first edition book of Hogwarts: A History, imbued with a startling amount of magic and filled with information concerning Hogwarts that Harry reckoned was lost to age. Plus, anything that was a first edition of anything would catch Harry's attention and join his collection of growing items as he would find a use for it somehow. Nothing else in the store had caught his attention so he sauntered up to the front counter and gently placed the book down, taking care to treat it as its age would warrant it.

"I'd like to purchase this please," he said softly.

The woman slipped a bookmark into whatever book she had been reading and looked down to Harry with a slightly irritated expression. It was rather fascinating to see how the woman's alma—internal magic of magical beings—shifted from the quivering flames that danced within her chest in lighter shades of red and orange darken to literally illustrate the change in her mood. Her alma, which moved like a fire crackling within a fireplace became a wildfire, emphasizing how someone was rather unhappy to be separated from their apparently precious reading time, on the clock or not. She rolled her eyes, not bothering to put on a happy demeanor for a child such as Harry and simply grabbed the book to read the title.

"Alright, then. You're buying Hogwarts: A History, which is a . . . first-edition book."

The woman trailed off as her eyes seemed to bug out of her sockets. Her alma lightened back to how it first appeared and shot up like flames that eagerly swallowed up firewood. She looked at Harry appraisingly, noticing the poor condition of his glasses and his distinctly Muggle clothing before she let out a graceless scoff. He could sense the mockery that her alma emitted as it strangely felt like the snickers of Dudley's followers, rather than heard.

"I doubt you have the galleons to buy the first edition of this, so I'll take this off your hands. Move along now, kid"

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. It wasn't his fault that she hadn't noticed that she overlooked such a hidden gem in her workplace, but that didn't mean she had the right to assume based on his appearance and age. He wasn't willing to release his magic just to pressure her into letting him purchase the book since he didn't doubt that the woman would have loose lips. He could pretend to be an adult whose appearance had regressed into that of a child from an experimental spell or a potion accident, but he didn't have enough information on either to reliably use them. Plus, using such a front may cause trouble for him in the future that he was simply ill-equipped to deal with at the moment.

In the end, Harry chose the least troublesome method to purchase his book. He sighed and bit his lower lip in deep thought, seemingly absentmindedly brushing his hair out of his face. The woman could not contain the startled gasp as her eyes focused on his scar before she switched gears.

"H-Harry Potter!" she stuttered, looking at him in awe and wonder. Her alma had instantly strunk as though all of the oxygen had been sucked away until it burst back into life, flickering dangerously like a candlelight. Her face then paled as she realized who she had treated with such sass and poor customer service. "I'm so sorry! I had no idea, otherwise I never would've spoken to you like that."

Harry raised a brow at that. "It's fine. I just wanted to go shopping incognito, Ms . . .?"

"Petal Yeggers, Mr. Potter"

Ms. Yeggers, I'm sure you're a wonderful person," he said with a gentle smile, taking note of the slightly glazed look in her eye. That was something he would need to look into since his magic was tightly reigned in to let him move under the radar. Something else was at work and he needed to know what. "But I don't think it was very nice of you to speak to me like that. If I was anyone else, I would've gotten really mad at you. Or I would've been really sad that you said that to me."

Petal looked stricken at his words, torn between her joy from his compliment and how he was lightly disciplining her as her alma hunched and seemingly shrunk into itself. "Y-You're right," she said quietly. "It's just that I didn't realize that we had a first edition of all things and really wanted it for myself."

Harry smiled gently at her. Other than his motive to peacefully buy his book, he was prying information out of Petal—of his status as a celebrity in the wizarding world. She had known his "full" name as most were unaware that his name was officially Hadrian James Potter, which he only learned after the so-called misunderstanding of his previous belief that his name was Freak. Petunia promptly latched onto the nickname "Harry" as Hadrian was too fancy of a name for his delinquent reputation and it stuck. He briefly wondered if this was what a primary school teacher would feel like as he chided Petal as though he wasn't so much younger than her. "There's nothing wrong with that. But you have to remember about the other party as well. If you were in my position, it wouldn't be very fair of you to do that, would it?"

Petal shook her head. "No, not at all. Sorry about that. Your purchase is on the house as apology."

Another smile made its way onto Harry's face, this time more genuine. He could use Petal, not for anything important but she seemed like the type who was far too easily manipulated, and it wouldn't take too much effort to sweet-talk her into keeping an ear open and an eye out for whatever he needed. Harry left the store with the promise to return in the future, mainly to cement Petal's loyalty to him. It wasn't that bad of an idea to create an information network—information was power and knowing meant he could plan to be two steps ahead of everyone else.

Gambol & Japes Jokeshop was another quick purchase. He simply grabbed a basket and tossed a handful of everything. He dragged his basket over to the front counter and made a quick purchase. He was in and out in less than thirty minutes. While he wasn't going to use any of their products for the purposes which they were intended to be used for, that didn't mean that he wouldn't find a different use for them. He could draw inspiration from those products to recreate newer and improved versions of those products or create similar products.

Across the alley was Cranville Quincey's Magical Junkshop and Sugarplum's Sweetshop, which were situated closer to the corner and a bit harder to spot unless one was actively looking for either of those shops. Harry was far more interested in the junkshop than the candy shop for the same reasons which the secondhand bookshop lured him in. Entering the junkshop was a disappointment though as it was filled with mostly Muggle junk. Nothing reacted to his Mage Sensor either and the most valuable item was an old revolver that Harry bought off the unassuming clerk.

At the very least, he learned that the Wizarding World, or just the British Enclaves, was pitifully clueless to the Muggle World. Muggle weaponry would be useful, and he endeavored to pick up some books and manuals of different Muggle weaponry. As soon as he had left the junkshop, he had opted to turn off his Mage Sight and dim his Mage Sense so that he could still feel if anything had any potential.

Harry skipped the candy shop and headed straight for Potage's Cauldron Shop. It was a shop with a rather unassuming exterior, easy for the eye to overlook if not for the wooden sign hanging overhead. It was very small with an equally small stock of items sold. It was a quick in-and-out of buying several quantities of the pewter, brass, copper, silver, self-stirring, and collapsible cauldrons. He simply bought a few of everything and promptly shoved it all in his pouch.

He looked forward to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions since it was a clothes shop. He entered the shop and was immediately met by a squat woman dressed in mauve robes.

"Welcome to Madame Malkin's, dearie! How can I help you?" she said in a cheery tone.

"I'd like to be fitted for some robes and cloaks in a few colors. Mainly greens, blues, grays, and black." He spoke confidently, deciding to slip into the demeanor of a noble child.

The woman, whom he supposed was Madame Malkin, smiled and ushered him onto a platform. She held a wand in her right hand and did some wand-movements, which sent a tape measurer to measure Harry, from the wideness of his shoulders, to the length of his shoulders to his ankles, to the length between his nostrils.

"Alright, dearie. I've taken your measurements so all you need to do is select the kinds of robes you want in this catalogue here."

Madame Malkin looked at him appraisingly before she continued. "The catalogue shows what are available for each robe—charms and such. It also shows what occasions those robes are for. Just let me know what robes you want and any charms you want added on to it."

Harry smiled and nodded his head at Madame Malkin and allowed himself to be ushered towards a cushioned couch that was situated against the wall next to the front entrance. She handed him an embellished leather-bound book that hummed with magic in his hands. When he opened up the book to touch the parchment pages, the pages felt like they were laminated against his fingertips.

The robes were labeled surprisingly simply compared to the names of the products he reviewed in the previous stores he visited. They were categorized by its style and season and numbered for each type. Some of the options were downright gaudy, looking as though it came from a catalogue from the sixties or eighties. There were robes that were embellished with frills and ruffles, strange and outrageous cuts, and unpractical designs that looked too camp to wear. The robes were similar to the robes in design but only differed in the occasional addition of a hood and its open design.

Harry selected practical and minimalist robe designs since he wasn't too fond of extravagant or embellished robes unless they were necessary. He opted to add charms that would allow the robes to grow with him, which would need to be reapplied every three years, and automatic warming and cooling charms which activated by the changes in external temperatures. He selected a traveling cloak, night cloak, and evening-wear cloak with the same charms. The cloaks offered the option to be lined with the typical furs that could be found in the Muggle World.

Harry closed the catalogue and walked over to Madame Malkin, who was relegating duties to another employee. "Ma'am? I finished looking through the catalogue."

Madame Malkin smiled and nodded. "And what would you like, dearie?"

"I would like every simple and minimal robe with growing charms and automatic warming and cooling charms. I would also like a traveling cloak, night cloak, and evening-wear cloak with those same charms. One of each lined with beaver, chinchilla, fox, lynx, mink, and rabbit furs. You can assign the colors as long as they are green, blue, gray, or black."

"Of course. That would be a total of twenty robes. That would cost seventy-three galleons, twelve sickles, and twenty-three knuts. Due to your large purchase, we do require a deposit of forty galleons."

Harry nodded at that. "Of course."

Madame Malkin smiled wider and leaded him to the counter to complete the transaction. Harry deposited the correct amount onto the counter and received a handwritten receipt, which detailed the order and an estimated guarantee.

"Thank you," Harry said with a slight bow of gratitude. "I'll come by later this afternoon or stop by the next morning."

"Of course, dearie. Thank you for your patronage!"

Harry exited the shop , satisfied in his purchase. He needed clothes to blend in with everyone else. He noticed how Lucius had immediately underestimated him simply because he was dressed in Dudley's hand-me-downs, and he knew that had he been dressed smartly, even in clothes from the Muggle World, he would not have been treated so dismissively.

Next to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was Eeylop's Owl Emporium, a pet shop that apparently revolved around owls and owl-related products. Griphook had mentioned that owls were the typical method of communications so Harry supposed it wouldn't hurt to purchase an owl, even if it had grate on his nerves since he would be accepting the possibility of intercepted or sabotaged mail.

The shop was hung with various cages of different owl species to advertise its variety. Harry sighed and entered the shop, noticing that the interior of the shop was relatively small and dim lighting, likely for the benefit of the owls since they were nocturnal creatures. There was a plague that advertised its owl breeds—barn, brown, screech, snowy, tawny, barred, eagle, gray, scops—and provided a short description the owls, including its specialty and care requirements.

Harry walked around the shop, careful to avoid knocking shoulders with the cages of various birds. He turned his Mage Sense back on and set his Mage Sense back to normal. While he had seen the alma of animals that he had occasionally spotted throughout Diagon Alley, their magic paled compared to witches and wizards and their sometimes eye-watering colors. He hoped to find an owl with a color that didn't make him want to claw his eyes out or gouge his nails through his skin.

As he scanned the entire shop, searching for a beacon of light amongst the dull yellow and brown alma of the owls. He smiled and made a beeline for the brightest owl of them all, in most plumage and alma. Each of the cages had a sign that hung below it and displayed information of the particular owl.

While the sign said that it was a female, it was unusual that it would have a pure white plumage for a snowy owl. Female snowy owls often sported white plumage with brown spots while male snowy owls sported a cleaner plumage. The owl had a peaceful alma, like the gentle ripples of a pond, flowing in aquamarine and azure—a balm to poor eyes. The owl evenly met his gaze calmly, with piercing eyes of glowing metal that freshly came from the furnace and filled with intelligence far above the rest of the owls in the shop.

Harry and the owl stared intently for a few moments until the owl let a satisfied hoot. She poked her beak through the bars of her cage and deftly unlatched the lock and gracefully hopped onto his shoulder. He smiled and waved off the babbles of concerns from a nearby employee. All of the owls were ten galleons and Harry immediately bought the owl and tossed everything he needed to care for an owl sans a cage.

Harry wasn't about to buy something as restrictive as a cage to house his new owl in when he knew that she was far too intelligent to truly be satisfied in one. He recognized that she knew that he had noticed the sheer intelligence within her, and she would figure out a way to escape her cage even if he did buy one. It was an insult to her intelligence and Harry could respect an intelligence creature such as his new owl, intimately aware of the itch that came with being confined for too long.

He left the emporium with a new owl and they were both equally satisfied. He had received advice from the employee as he purchased him items, likely due to his obviously Muggle outfit. Owls raised in the Wizarding World knew how to find what they were looking for, be it their owners or the recipient of any letters they were delivering. No one knew the exact reason as to how that worked, and Harry made a note to find out when he had the time.

"We're going to have to wait on your name, love. I do apologize for that, but I don't exactly want to give you a half-arsed name, not when you're such a lovely owl." Harry rubbed his finger against his owl's chin, gently petting it and smiling as the owl simply chirped in agreement.

"I'm going to be out here for a while and I still haven't found where to stay. It's in a rather shady place so perhaps you could take this as a vacation. Spread your wings and go for a fly. Hunt some mice and whatnot. You know where to find me when you feel it's time to come back."

The owl looked at him, taking a moment to assess Harry before she hooted twice and took off into the air. At first, she simply flew above him and lazily drew circles over his head. He smiled at that and didn't mind, letting her bask in her well-deserved freedom from the cage. She flew over him seven times before she lifted herself into the air, ascending higher into the sky and flew away.

Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment initially made him think that it was the magical equivalent of a realtor agency simply by the greater emphasis on the owner's name on the signboard. Its display window showcased a wide variety of products that Harry simply tossed into a basket he had grabbed when he entered the store—binoculars, scales, telescopes, compasses, crystal balls, phials, moon charts, star charts. It was a quick toss-and-buy.

Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary and Slug & Jiggers was something that Harry wanted to take his time in shopping as it appeared to be a supplier for ingredients necessary to create potions. He was still unfamiliar with the concept of potion-making so he didn't know the extent to which potions could be used and if there were any overlooked potential that a fresh perspective could take advantage.

Both of the apothecaries were quaint and that felt rather moist and cool when he first entered it, likely for the sake of some of the more delicate ingredients which they kept in stock. The stores were organized similarly to a bookstore, with the shelves stocked in alphabetical order and seemingly from the more innocuous ingredients safe for the general population to more sensitive and dangerous ingredients kept closer to the back. He briefly turned on his Mage Sight and could see hues of gray catena—magic anchored to inanimate objects—surrounding the shelves and bubbled around the ingredients, gradually intensifying as Harry peered towards the back of the shop.

Slug and Jigger's was a quiet shop that left its customers to their own business. Sitting on a stool behind the counter was an old and wizened man with thick and dark gray hair and a matching beard that gave him the countenance of a man with great wisdom to impart. He had fierce features that were tempered by his grandfatherly, bookish appearance from the thin golden frames perched atop the bridge of his nose and the button-down and sweater combination.

"Hello, sir," he said shyly but politely.

The man peered down to make eye contact with him and smiled gently. "Hello there, lad. What can I do for you?"

Harry shifted a bit nervously. "Um, I was wondering what kind of potion ingredients were recommended for a first-year?"

"Ah, older sibling, I presume?"

Harry nodded and shifted his expression to look a bit more comfortable and with less nervous energy. "Yes, sir. He really wants to be a Ravenclaw so, um, maybe add some extra?"

Harry didn't know what a Ravenclaw was but did piece together that Hogwarts functioned on a house system like regular schools in the Muggle World. He supposed that the British Wizarding World relied heavily on stereotyping and profiled people based on what house they were placed in. Hence, Ravenclaws were likely the intelligent type—book-smart, studious, and over-achieving.

"Of course, lad. We have packages just for first years and one just for Ravenclaws."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, sir. Um, Da gave me his money pouch to pay for it."

The man nodded and withdrew his hand from the inside of his sleeve. It was around nine inches of dark wood, smooth and oiled, with a subtle handle that was worn to create grooves for a better grip. The man flicked his wand without another word and a dark blue box, no bigger than a shoe box, zipped through the air to land on the counter. I need to look into wands in general—wood types and anything else that made up a wand, Harry thought to himself.

"Alright, lad. A Ravenclaw Potions Package for the first year. That'll be seventy-two galleons."

Harry nodded and loosened his coin pouch from around his neck. True to any eight-year-old, he held the pouch over the counter and simply dumped its contents overhead. Seventy-two galleons flooded out from the pouch.

The man smiled indulgently. "My, your Da must put a lot of trust in you, huh?"

Harry smiled and nodded his head eagerly. "Yeah! He said that if I got all of Arnie's stuff, then he'd let me get my own broom 'cuz Arnie in the hospital right now."

"Oh. Well then, I hope your brother gets well soon. And I wish you good luck on your task."

Again, Harry nodded his head. "Thank you!"

He grabbed the package and let his pouch suck it up before he wore it around his neck again. With a friendly, innocent wave, he bid the man good-bye and left with a flourish.

Going into Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary was a quick and simple. The Ravenclaw package had provided a list of all of the ingredients that were part of the package and Harry simply purchased everything that he didn't have other than the more dangerous ingredients that he knew the clerk wouldn't let him buy.

While he had already gotten his owl from Eeylop's Owl Emporium, Harry was a bit curious to see the Magical Menagerie, the magical equivalent of a pet store. It was rather roomy around the front entrance and slowly became more crowded as he entered deeper into the store as it was filled with different animals and its care products.

He walked around the shop, looking at the various rats spinning in a wheel within their cages and the cats sleeping the day away lazily on fuzzy cat trees. His leg brushed against something soft and began to vibrate, emitting purrs that belonged to the old beat-up cars Scum would moan over. Harry looked down to see a cat with orange, horribly matted fur as it rubbed a squashed face over his pants leg, purring as it curled its tail around said leg.

An employee walked over and looked surprised at the scene. "Oh, my. That old grump hates everyone!"

Harry smiled and chuckled. "Well then. I suppose I'm going to have to buy you now. It appears I've been chosen by this cat."

The employee looked Harry up and down and then said, "Kneazle, actually. Think regular cat but a little bit bigger and even smarter, if you can imagine that."

Harry nodded. "I'll take a little longer to look around before I buy anything else."

The employee nodded, dubiously looking over his shoulder to eye Harry and his soon-to-be cat as he walked away, clearly doubting Harry's words. It was very obvious that the cat had been in the shop's care for some time, having been rejected and rejecting people countless times.

Harry shook his head in bemusement and ignored the rows of rats and toads and odd furballs called pygmy puffs. The only other animal that caught his attention were the ravens, frighteningly intelligent birds that they were, even in the Muggle World. It reminded him of the nursery rhyme "One for Sorrw"

One for sorrow

Two for mirth

Three for a funeral

Four for birth

Five for heaven

Six for hell

Seven for the devil, his own self

It was originally meant for magpies and its association for bad luck, mainly in Australia and their annual swooping seasons since magpies were right nasty when they wanted. But eventually, it spread to crows and ravens. Harry crooked a smile that was more of a smirk as he waved the same employee from earlier over.

"I was interested in buying myself a raven as well," Harry said.

The employee nodded. "Alright. I do warn you that ravens are tricky birds to look after. The ravens that we currently have spent so much time together that they have formed their own flock."

Harry nodded. "Not a problem. I'll simply buy the whole flock then."

The employee raised his brow at that but didn't mention it. "It's a flock of seven. The ravens aren't from the same nest, but they consider themselves nest-mates now. Ravens are very devoted to their family so if you cannot afford it, I would not suggest separating them."

"Of course. I can assure you; I am well equipped with the money to pay for the kneazle and ravens and everything I need to care for thing as well."

They headed to the counter. It was a lengthy process of deciding what he wanted to buy for his kneazle and ravens but after some discussion, it was settled, and everything had been paid for. Like usual, everything went into his pouch and he didn't opt to buy any cages for the ravens either, just stands for them.

He exited the shop with the kneazle in his arms. He supposed it was time to look for the Shrieking Banshee now. He was rather excited to see everything he had planned come to fruition. His current goal was to shove that Dumbledore off of his golden throne, who situated himself as Harry's guardian and tossed him over to the Dursley's. It was also unsettling to see that much power in the hands of a single man and the sheer level of influence that Griphook implied that Dumbledore wielded.

He couldn't enter the ring without back-up and Lucius Malfoy was the perfect ally to do so. Just from what he had gleamed from Griphook's information and what he assessed from Lucius himself, Dumbledore had made more than a few enemies and none of them weak and easy to ignore. And when Malfoy came, others would follow behind him, eager to take hand in the opportunity to finally topple Dumbledore's tower of influence.

He had already started an impromptu information gathering throughout his exploration of Diagon Alley as well. He had purchased everything he could just to immerse himself in the Wizarding World to seamlessly integrate officially. That, and he could experiment with everything and see what could be improved and what could be used as inspiration for something similar but ultimately different. There was just so much to do but it was fine.

Harry was patient. Waiting was not unfamiliar to him and for now, he was content to simply play the waiting game. It was disadvantageous to make the first move, but in his case, it was a necessity since he was already entering the game at a disadvantage. He would even the scales soon.

This chapter killed me. This is the longest that I've ever gotten, just in writing in general. I haven't even written a paper this long even for school. Fucking 15 pages.

Anyways, thanks for all the recommendations! If you have anymore, please send them! Y'all are always welcome to send me recommendations.

I'm a whore for those time-travel, AU, reincarnation fics—Marvel, Harry Potter, Katekyo Hitman Reborn, My Hero Academia (it's literally the anime logo, fight me I'm Asian), Bleach, Naruto, One Piece, Attack on Titan.

*If you know any super good fics around Sakura (Naurto) or Skull (KHR) or Harry (you already know our bitch), please lemme know.

Based on the super faint, scent-practically-washed-away-by-the-rain hints, what kind of Dying Will Flames do you think Harry has, and why?

(must be 250 words, turned in for a grade. Why? I'm a goddamn teaching major lol jk about word requirement) For me, Harry's flames could be [flame] based on the hints:

-Sun Flames—healing

-Cloud Flames—regeneration like Skull

-Lightning—reinforce his pain tolerance unconsciously

-Storm—disintegrate his wounds (lol healing cheat + magic)

-Rain—slow down wound's intensity

-Mist—use real illusions to heal himself

-Sky—Dursley's are even shitter to him because their latent flames reach out to Harry, who's too strong (same theory as Dame-Tsuna being bullied)