AUGUST 7, 1998

HARRY

THE RESURRECTION STONE HAD BEEN THE GREATEST GIFT that the Battle could have given him. And even though his loved ones would never materialize in front of him again, Harry knew that he didn't need his eyes to see them.

Hagrid's mokeskin pouch carried several mementos of them, and he dumped out its contents to organize them. He had no need for the Maurader's Map, the fake locket, and the Snitch anymore, so he placed those in a dresser near his bed. However, he looked upon Sirius's mirror shard and the letter penned by his mother, and placed those back in the pouch once more. 

A look inside his small pantry told him that he needed to buy more food. He renewed the stasis charm to keep the remaining vegetables inside cold, before heading outside, munching on a box of dumplings. He could apparate, of course, but he found that he preferred walking lately. Besides, the distance from his flat to the Leaky Cauldron was just a brisk ten minutes. There were a few Muggles giving him funny looks because of his dark red robes in the summer weather, but most of them were heading off to work. 

It was a work day for him, too, but he only had a few documents to complete that wouldn't take him more than two hours. Thus, he reached the grimy little pub that Muggles avoided and swept inside. Over the past month, each time he'd been inside the inn's dining room, the number of people eating there had been steadily increasing. Now, the chatter of voices and the clinking of cutlery filled the slightly musty air. A few people recognized him as he made his way through, but he brushed past them too quickly for them to say anything. 

He tapped the brick by the garbage can and stepped out of the hole in the wall the moment it was big enough to fit him. Diagon Alley unfurled like a map in front of him. He made his way around the South Side, stopping at several markets along the way.

He bought two chicken and mushroom pies from a vendor that he was beginning to grow fond of, crumpets, a box of onion soup, apricots, potatoes, tomatoes, and lettuce. He successfully restrained himself from buying any candy from the Sweetshop and instead headed back up the road to the North Side. Stopping briefly at Quality Quidditch Supplies to examine the new Firebolt model and at Gringotts to withdraw some change from the Black family vaults, he headed towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, figuring he'd indulge himself with a sundae and the treacle tarts they made (which almost matched the quality of the Hogwarts treacle tarts by a hair).

However, when he got to Florean Fortescue's, what greeted him was a shock. Instead of the iconic green-and-purple wallpaper, the front of the shop was painted a brilliant white. Harry stared at the shiny paint, a part of him wondering why the new owner, whoever they were, had made this change. He was a little sentimental and wondered what was so wrong with the old wallpaper.

The tables outside remained the same, though, and despite the door being painted white, too, the front window remained exactly the same as before. Stepping inside, the bell rang, and Harry noticed it was a different bell than before. But otherwise, the inside of the shop was still the same. Lunchtime was approaching, and Harry already had his meal, so he simply sat down at one of the tables, glanced at the folded menu, and said "Two scoops of chocolate and raspberry with molten cream on top, and treacle tart," 

He watched as a little black machine at the cashier's desk printed a piece of paper, which floated and stuck itself to the list of orders on the back of the display glass. A brunette witch and wizard were working behind the counter. 

The witch working behind the glass had waist-length light brown hair and glasses with blue rims that accentuated the blue of her eyes. Her friend, who was also scooping ice cream and laughing with her at something, was just as pretty, with his defined curls and smooth brown skin. 

Harry took another look around. A powder blue and violet Kneazle was lounging on a table near the sun. Harry could only tell it was a Kneazle by its ears, it was rather small for one of its breed and could easily be mistaken for a cat. The shop was a little quieter than it usually was because lunch was not served. More people would file in in about an hour when they were looking for dessert. The streets of Diagon Alley were now almost back to normal, with people bustling around and chatting.

"Chocolate and raspberry, with treacle tart," the witch said, wearing a worn, extremely stained apron and a smile.

"Thanks," Harry grinned at her. "Did the owner do some redecorating outside there?"

She laughed, and Harry caught a whiff of her perfume. It smelled like sea salt and driftwood. Had he smelled that scent before?

"I repainted, yeah," the witch said. "My uncle- Florean Fortescue-left this place to me after he died,"

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and he felt a little stab of guilt when he remembered how Florean Fortescue had died in captivity at the hands of Death Eaters. "This was one of my favorite spots in Diagon Alley, your uncle was always kind to me and the rest of his customers,"

"Yeah, he was nice," the witch said, her blue eyes cloudy and looking into the distance. "...But he's gone now, and I thought the place needed a different color. I had someone come in and tell me that the place wasn't Florean Fortescue's anymore without the green and purple wallpaper, and that I might as well change the name on the sign,"

"That's rude," Harry frowned.

"Yes, it was. I told them to shove the sign up their arse, actually. But perhaps I should change the sign. Billie Holt's Ice Cream Parlour. No. Florean's is better,"

Then Harry remembered. "You're Billie Holt? I remember seeing you here years ago. And at Hogwarts, too! You're a sixth-year, yeah?" he rambled out before he could stop himself.

"Yeah...well, a seventh-year now," Billie squinted down at him, squeezing her seafoam eyes. "Who are you again?"

Hit with the age-old question, Harry winced. He walked himself into a trap with the previous questions. "I'm Harry,"

"Harry... Potter?" her eyes flicked to his scar. 

"Yeah,"

There was a moment's awkwardness before the two of them half-smiled at each other again, and Billie straightened up. "Well, enjoy your ice cream,"

And she left. Harry rubbed his forehead in frustration. Honestly, every interaction with anyone knew nowadays was like that. 

The chocolate and raspberry was a little more melted than he liked, having had the time to thaw during his and Billie's conversation. It was still delicious and was even better when he spread a little atop his treacle tart. He finished the whole thing in less than five minutes, determined to come back to the ice cream parlour sooner than later. He stood up, as the plates vanished themselves, and made his way to Billie once again to pay.

"Hi," he said awkwardly.

"...Hi," she said quizzically, the lamps glinting against her eyeglasses. 

"Ehm, how much was it?" he said. It hit him like a brick when he remembered that Florean Fortescue always gave him sundaes and pastries for free, and it was the first time he had to pay for anything at the café.

"Oh- the bill is at your table, if you could bring it here," Billie said hurriedly and pointed at the table. For Harry hadn't noticed that the menu also had a bill printed at the bottom. He walked over, going a little pink at the apples of his cheeks, and handed it to her. She picked up a purple quill and checked a few things off.

"A Galleon and a Sickle," Billie said, smiling at him. He handed over the coins from his mokeskin pouch. He was about to leave, when she said: "Do you want to try the banoffee pie?"

"Sorry?"

"The pie. Banana, toffee, and marshmallow," she said, a little sheepishly. "It's a new recipe, my Dad's a Muggle and he's really proud of his recipe- wanted me to sell some here,"

"Oh- sure," Harry said, looking down at the appetizing slices of pie. "I'll take two,"

She looked relieved. "Lovely, I'll box these up for you," and her and her co-worker set the pack charm upon the sky-high stack of cake boxes nearby. Her co-worker handed the boxes to him, with a 'Cheers, mate' and Harry stepped outside, grinning broadly at nothing in particular.

He apparated into the Ministry, took the lift down to Level Two, and settled into his cubicle (third row, second slot from the left) next to Ron.

"How are you, mate?" Ron asked, looking up from his Death Eater sentence papers.

"Just went to Diagon Alley. Picked up two banoffee pies, want one?" he said, plopping one of the brown boxes on Ron's desk.

"Oh, absolutely," Ron grinned, taking the fork and placing an extremely large chunk in his mouth. "God, Harry, where did you find this?"

He closed his eyes and savored the taste. Harry laughed, clapping him on the back and opening his own pie. "Harry- this is the best pie I've ever had,"

"Don't let your mother hear you say that," Harry wiggled a brow, before taking a smaller bite of his own.

It really was quite good. Billie's father must be an accomplished Muggle cook. He finished the thing in five bites, despite not being that hungry due to his treacle tart before. 

He would have to keep coming back to Florean Fortescue's, it seemed, for more pies in the future.