If Only You Could've Read My Mind

Chapter 1

Ever since Harry had blown up his aunt the summer before his third year, it seemed the Dursleys welcomed him less and less into their little home on Privet Drive, which Harry considered a rather remarkable feat considering the fact that they had never been particularly fond of him. Although it was great fun to occasionally chase Dudley around with his wand whenever he got bored, the thought of spending summer in solitude wasn't exactly the most inspiring idea- so when Harry received a sealed letter on the 24th of July, carried by a exceptionally eccentric owl by the name of Pigwidgeon, he could hardly refuse staying at Ron's for the rest of summer. 

Time flew by when Harry was at The Burrow- from helping Mrs Weasley with the daily chores to playing knock-off quidditch with Fred and George- so when the letters arrived on that markedly cheery August morning with the extensive lists of books and supplies both Harry and Ron needed for the upcoming school year, for the first time Harry felt a twist in his stomach as he found himself wishing he could have just a few more weeks without the looming prospect of school. It wasn't that he didn't like being at Hogwarts, of course he did, that place was his home, but he had never felt as loved as he did when he was at the Weasleys'.

                                                                         ✥

Diagon Alley had hardly changed in the year since he had last visited, the main difference being the brand new broomstick adorning the window of the broom shop- it was sleeker than its predecessors for sure, with a polished navy shaft that shone under the midday sun and a neat array of dark grey twigs streaming out behind it. Harry's eyes drifted to the price tag and felt his eyebrows raise instinctively at the disgustingly high sum written out on the paper in a deceivingly pretty cursive handwriting. Of course, he didn't doubt he could afford it- he had hardly spent a sixth of the fortune his parents had left for him in Gringotts, but he wasn't exactly eager to spend the remainder on a dainty new broom. Sweeping his gaze away from the window, and the small crowd that had formed in front of it, he almost tripped up on the cobbled pavement as he tried to keep up with Ron's steady pace. 

"Mum said I have to go in with her to Borgin and Burkes," murmured Ron under his breath, a pang of frustration hinting at the tone of his voice. "Said that my great aunt second removed from my dad's side is supposed to meet us there," he rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his grey corduroy trousers as he did so, "never heard of the woman in my life." Harry let out a short laugh.

"Well I'll be leaving you to that then," he said, the corners of his lips raising into a smile as the Borgin and Burkes's olive green doorway came into view and he spotted Mrs Weasley trotting over to a rather feeble looking woman- a leopard print shawl cascading across her bony shoulders and trailing along the floor as she hobbled over in a similarly excited manner. Ron huffed at the sight, and made Harry promise to meet him near Olivander's in an hour, before putting on a smile and awkwardly shuffling into the woman's hesitant embrace. He shot Harry a particularly miserable look from across the street and then, as the door closed behind him, Harry was alone amongst the crowds of Diagon Alley, looking back and forth for a familiar face amongst the swarms of third and first years. Shaking his head, Harry decided he would take the opportunity to explore a little on his own, venturing up the street and gazing nonchalantly at the shop fronts, eager to find someplace that could take his mind off things while he waited for Ron.

Surprisingly, Harry had hardly ever ventured further than the shops he needed supplies from, but as he strolled now, he inspected the various coffee stalls and food vendors- from which plumes of lilac smoke intermittently billowed out, carrying with them the unmistakable scent of lavender. Witches and wizards of all ages congregated before him, marvelling at the distinctive odour and pointing out items from the menu that they were most eager to try. Although the idea of purchasing an afternoon snack was appealing, his attention had already caught at something else. A dark green shop, its windows stained with age and the items on display gleaming coquettishly, was tucked in between two slightly larger restaurants. As Harry approached, he noted the oxidised brass letters above him reading 'POON', which he presumed once read 'POTIONS'. It clearly hadn't been receiving many visitors as of late- apparent from the thick layer of dust carpeting the windowsill and the half price signs adorning almost every item visible to him.