A boy and his dreams
The antique shop was a relic in itself, tucked away in a forgotten corner of London where magic whispered beneath the surface of everyday life. Dust motes danced in the slanted sunlight streaming through the tall, grimy windows. Harry Potter stood behind the counter, his calloused fingers brushing over a chipped porcelain teacup.
“Careful with that, boy,” Vernon Dursley barked from the doorway, his meaty hand slamming against the frame. “If you break anything, it’ll be coming out of your wage. Not that you earn much to begin with.”
Harry bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, swallowing the retort that threatened to spill out. Retorts never ended well in the Dursley household. Instead, he set the teacup down gently, wiping his hands on his worn jeans.
“I’ve restocked the shelves,” he said quietly. “And the inventory’s up to date.”
Vernon grunted, his beady eyes scanning the shop. “Good. I’ll be checking the accounts tonight. No funny business, you hear me? And don’t forget to clean the storeroom.”
The storeroom was Harry’s least favourite place. It was dark, cramped, and filled with more cobwebs than treasures. But he nodded again, and Vernon finally lumbered away, muttering under his breath about “ungrateful brats.”
As soon as the door slammed shut, Harry exhaled deeply.
It wasn’t all bad. Occasionally, Harry uncovered something special amidst the cluttered chaos of the shop. Like the intricately carved music box he’d found the other day, which played a hauntingly beautiful tune that seemed to hum with magic. Or the gilded mirror that shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light when the sun hit it just right.
Harry’s favourite artefact, however, was a small, simple glass charm shaped like a star. It hung on a delicate chain that he wore beneath his threadbare shirt, hidden from the Dursleys. He didn’t know why he loved it so much—it wasn’t particularly valuable, at least not to anyone else—but it made him feel like he belonged to something greater, something magical.
He sighed, turning the charm over in his fingers. “One day,” he murmured, “I’ll get out of here. I’ll find something better.”
The bell above the door jingled, and Harry quickly tucked the charm away. A tall, elegant woman stepped inside, her blonde hair coiled into a perfect chignon. She was followed by a boy about Harry’s age, dressed impeccably in a tailored coat that screamed wealth.
“Welcome,” Harry said, straightening up.
The woman’s sharp blue eyes swept the shop with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. “Good afternoon,” she said, her voice lilting. “I’m looking for something unique—a gift for my son.”
Harry’s gaze flicked to the boy, who was now studying a silver pocket watch with an air of mild disinterest. His pale, pointed face was undeniably handsome, though his expression held a hint of boredom.
“I’ll see what I can find,” Harry replied, slipping into the role of polite shopkeeper.
As Harry carefully retrieved a display case of enchanted trinkets, he felt the boy’s eyes on him. He tried to ignore it, focusing on explaining the items to the woman, but his voice faltered when the boy stepped closer.
“Do you work here often?” the boy asked, his tone light but curious.
Harry blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Pretty much every day.”
“Interesting,” the boy said, though his smirk suggested he found something amusing. “I’m Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy.”
“Harry,” he replied hesitantly.
“Harry.” Draco repeated the name like he was testing it. “Well, Harry, I think this place just got a little more interesting.”
Harry flushed, unsure what to say. Thankfully, the woman—Draco’s mother, Harry assumed—chose that moment to interrupt.
“This one will do,” she announced, holding up a delicate bracelet that sparkled faintly in the light. “Wrap it up, please.”
Harry nodded, quickly wrapping the bracelet in tissue paper and placing it in a small velvet bag. He handed it to her with a polite smile.
“Thank you,” she said, her tone warmer than before. “You’ve been very helpful.”
As she turned to leave, Draco lingered for a moment longer, his silver eyes locking onto Harry’s green ones. “I’ll see you around, Harry,” he said, his smirk softening into something more genuine.
And then he was gone, leaving Harry standing in the middle of the shop, his heart pounding and a strange new hope flickering in his chest.