Harry potter The Boy Who Remembers

17 July 1992, Diagon Alley

Harry jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement. He then looked at the familiar inn and took a deep breath. Yeah, he had a feeling that this was going to be his favourite summer yet.

Over the course of the previous month, Harry's theory was proven to be correct. This was, in fact, his favourite summer so far. In his previous one, there was still this nervousness at being in another world, utterly alien to what he was used to. He had put himself out there just to try to find a way to use magic. Having come very far over the course of the last year in mastering his magic, the Potter scion was confident that he could handle whatever was thrown at him.

Living by yourself was surprisingly freeing. Well, if you don't need to deal with my responsibilities that came with independence that is. Having been staying in the Leaky Cauldron, for over a month, Harry didn't need to clean, or cook meals. Instead, he did his best to simply relax and enjoy his summer. There was more to the magical world than books, after all, and he had forgotten what it was like to be amongst adults, not children.

Yeah, he was pretty much always using ageing potions to move around. He looked like an average Hogwarts graduate, and people just spoke to him normally. There were side effects to prolonged use of ageing potions, of course, but they tended to affect people trying to look younger, not the other way around. According to numerous researchers and potion masters, the only thing he risked was mild aches for a few weeks because of the large difference in size after he comes back to his normal body. Although, there were documents of actually accelerated ageing when using the potion substantially to look younger.

His older form allowed him to explore the alley properly. It turned out that Diagon Alley itself is simply the hub of magical London, but it didn't really stop there. It was an alley where any wizard or witch will probably be able to find any normal item they needed. The shops, for all how dingy and unclean they looked, were very expensive since most of the population just went there to get their stuff. Other shops had needed to settle from branches of the alley.

To be able to survive, they were either really specialized or really cheap. You won't find a secondhand store anywhere in the main alley, but in Bargain Lane, they were commonplace. The Charmers' Lane is specified for custom Charmed jobs. There were shops for just enchanting clothes. Hell, Carkitt Market was a street filled with stalls that sold magical creatures and anything related to them.

Then, there was Knockturn Alley, of course. Even in his adult form, Harry didn't dare venture there. The horror stories he heard about that place were enough. It wasn't even the danger of being hurt – not that it was insignificant – it was mostly the fact that it was a close-knit community and that he would be caught as an outsider in seconds. Magical Britain isn't that large, and people living in the seedier parts of the city all know one another. And for all its reputation with the dark arts, the alley was mostly home to the outcasts of magical society. Werewolves, vampires, Hags, and every sentient magical being that the common wizards dislike are just sent there. The rents are cheap, people don't ask questions, and you can just do your job in peace. Of course, if you want to buy anything illegal, it would be probably easier to find a place no one asks any questions.

So, yeah, the rest of the alley was just enough for him. For now. It might be cowardly, but the sorting hat did choose to put him in Slytherin for a reason.

Harry opened his eyes this morning not expecting any letters. Blaise was back in Italy for the summer, and Daphne was currently in Greece for the holidays. Tracy's parents had taken her camping in the woods for some reason. She had grumbled about it in her last letter. So, with all his friends doing their own thing, Harry decided to do his. He walked down the stairs, and saw Tom waiting for him, "Oh, hey Harry."

"Hey, Tom," the Potter scion greeted.

"Do you want the usual," the man asked.

"Yes, that would be wonderful, Tom."

Tom went to the kitchen with his order, just a standard English breakfast. And was accosted by a small barn owl with a familiar newspaper in her talons. Harry took out the paper and gave a couple of Knuts for the owl to take as payment, and it flew away immediately after.

By then, his breakfast was laid out for him. He took a sip of his coffee, relishing its taste, before opening the newspaper and almost spitting it out in shock at the headline.

NICOLAS FLAMEL FOUND DEAD IN HIS HOME!

Underneath the huge title, the famous alchemist and his wife Perenelle looked lying dead in the living room. Unlike most wizarding photos, this one was not moving at all. The two former immortals looked like they were sleeping together on the couch, not dead as they are.

Of course, the rest of the article was the typical Rita Skeeter nonsense. It started with the man's accomplishment, his contributions to the field of Alchemy. His association with Dumbledore, everything that was pretty much summarized in his chocolate frog card in just a couple of sentences. The bodies looked fresh, but the effects of the Elixir of Life were unknown to everyone, hence why no one said anything about it. Curiously, the man had left a sizable sum of gold for Beauxbattons, and people are still theorizing if there was still more that was hidden away. Yeah, the world was going on treasure hunts trying to find any caches of gold. As always, it wouldn't be a Rita Skeeter article without some sort of scandal. Apparently, she supposed that one of the alchemist's possible experiments on wizards backfired and killed him and his wife. Or that the Philosopher's Stone was a lie all along. Harry had to admit that for all the ridiculousness of it, the woman had a way with words. It was too bad she wasted them on trash like this.

Funnily enough, the location of the Philosopher's Stone wasn't really mentioned anywhere in the article. That was the terrifying part. Somehow, the Daily Prophet just ignored the man's most notable achievement. Dumbledore must have had a hand in that, or maybe it looked like the deaths were natural, hence the assumption that the stone was destroyed or stolen. Still, things didn't look good.

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