Traveling further down the dimly lit and damp path of the street, Harry's attention is drawn to a quaint bookshop-like structure. Through the small window, he catches a glimpse of an open book, adorned with a few bookmarks and colorful covers. The large door, painted in a faded shade of yellow, shows signs of wear and tear, with cracks running through its surface. Intrigued, Harry steps inside the crumbling brick building, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
As he enters, Harry's eyes fall upon a rotund man, fast asleep in a worn-out armchair. The man's head is completely bald, save for a short mustache and solitary wiry hair on the top of his nearly barren scalp. Harry lingers near the entrance, his gaze fixated on the magical aura that seems to emanate from the cracked walls of the shop. The air is thick with a sense of enchantment as if the very essence of the books within is seeping into the atmosphere.
Mesmerized by the ambiance, Harry finds himself marveling at the wonders that lie within the shop. The crackling energy seems to dance along the walls, whispering secrets and tales of far-off lands. The small, weathered bricks hold stories untold, waiting to be discovered by those who dare to venture into this hidden sanctuary of knowledge. Harry stands in awe, his heart filled with anticipation, eager to explore the treasures that await him within the pages of the books that line the shelves.
Walking through the aisles of all the books, Harry found a section with a hidden entrance. He slowly walked through the small hallway, the bookcases leaning in, their shelves overflowing with dusty, dirt-covered books. Few books seemed to be on the shelves; some were missing chunks, some had no titles, and some were so soggy with dirt that they could barely be seen.
At the very back, Harry saw a bookshelf that looked the most destroyed. Mostly covered in eroded wood and cracked shelves, it held a small pile of seven differently-sized books. Two books were about a finger thick and had covers adorned with children and ingredients with wands. Both books had the numbers 1 and 2 on them, but neither had a title. Harry felt that both books were about potions.
Next to them were two huge books, the length from the tip of Harry's elbow to the middle of his middle finger and as thick as his fist. They were adorned with different snake-like figures pressed out from the cover, but Harry couldn't tell because of the thick layers of dirt. He blew on the cover of the top book, and the dust flew off. Knowing that it wasn't English, but still able to understand the cover of the book, he grabbed them. Both books were very heavy.
Harry looked back at the potion books and grabbed those as well. He set them down in a small basket that was lying randomly on the ground. Stepping up on a small stool, Harry reached for the other books on the shelf that he couldn't reach before. He grabbed the next two books, one with a cover filled with different types of what looked to be magical reptiles, and the other a book about magical birds. Both books were very thick. He grabbed them and gently placed them into the basket.
The last book was nearly as big as Fluffy's paw and thicker than Harry's eleven-inch wand was tall. It was a book about the magical languages of both wizards and animals. Grabbing the huge, heavy book, Harry put the basket on top of it and carried the massive book to the rickety old cobblestone counter.
YOU ARE READING
letters {DISCONTINUED}!!!!!!!
Fanfictionhis gifts made him different. He often felt isolated and alone, unable to connect with others on the same level. He also knew that if the wrong people learned about his abilities, they could be used against him. So Harry learned to play a role. He p...
