The dynamic of the house changed drastically after that point. Dudley never understood what had happened to make his parents suddenly act so vastly different towards his cousin. Petunia took on the air of absolute terror whenever Dudley did something that could potentially anger Harry.
Harry was content as long as Petunia reprimanded and punished her son for his misbehavior. He didn't blame the poor stupid child for his own actions. He was only doing what he thought would please his parents. Since he had grown up, watching his parents treat Harry so poorly, he thought that was what he was supposed to do as well. Harry didn't expect an overnight change in the boy's actions, but he did expect an immediate change in the behavior of the boy's parents. He got it.
He only had to 'punish' Vernon a few times the first few months after the 'incident'. After that, the man learned to hold his tongue and his violent urges.
Harry got his own room, a new wardrobe, and whatever new possessions he requested, when he requested them. Harry wasn't unreasonable with his requests. Most of what he wanted, he couldn't get in Surrey anyway, so he waited on those things. Mostly he just requested books, trips to the library, and writing utensils.
His relatives avoided him like the plague, which was more than understandable. Petunia would prepare his meals and bring them up to his room, and then fetch the dishes afterwards, just to avoid spending meals with him.
The fall after he turned five, he and Dudley both started primary school. He knew that Petunia was desperately relieved to be rid of him for several hours a day, but he could also tell that she was terrified of the idea of him being near Dudley during that time without her there to witness or supervise.
Harry's teachers all adored him. They thought he was polite and remarkably bright. One of them even used the word 'prodigy' a few times. By the end of his first year of school, his teacher had approached the Dursley's with the suggestion that Harry should be moved up a year. Petunia was tremendously relieved with this recommendation since it meant that Harry would no longer be in the same class with her precious Dudders.
Harry didn't honestly care either way, and accepted the opportunity. That summer, however, he had more important things to concern himself with. The first day of summer vacation he went to Petunia and told her that he needed to go to London.
She blanched at him. "What for?"
Harry raised a single eyebrow. "What does it matter? I just need to go."
"Where in London, exactly?"
"Charring Cross road."
"You're not supposed to go there."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Says who?"
"It was in that letter... the one that was left here with you on our doorstep! It said you weren't to be allowed back into... into your world."
"Well, I don't give a damn what the letter said. I need to go to London. All you have to do is drop me off. Then you can leave."
"Just leave you there?" she gaped at him.
"Yes. I can make my way back through other means once I complete my business."
"But... you're five!"
"Technically, yes, I am only five. But I don't see how that matters here. Honestly, Petunia; I'm surprised by your level of concern. Really, there's no reason for you to worry about me. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself and I know what I'm doing."
"I can't just leave you alone in London!"
"Sure you can. It's simple. You drive me there, I get out of the car, and then you drive away. Worse case scenario, I don't come back. Well, actually, I suppose for you, that would probably be the best case scenario. But really, no matter what, I will likely be making my way back here at some point. You don't have to concern yourself with it."
She frowned deeply but agreed.
–
The following day after Vernon had left for work, Petunia loaded Harry and Dudley into her car and drove all the way from Surrey to London. She dropped Harry off just down the street from the Leaky Cauldron and then left.
Harry had actually come prepared, to some extent for his first venture into the wizarding world since that fateful Holloween night four years prior. For one thing, he had made Petunia purchase a black, hooded coat for him. It was still a muggle coat, but it was several sizes too large for him so it hung down to his knees. With the hood drawn, it almost resembled a cloak. He still stood out a bit, seeing as how it was the end of June, and quite warm, but at least it allowed him to conceal himself somewhat.
He had stuffed the coat into a knapsack he had brought with him and before entering the Leaky Cauldron he pulled it out and put it on. He clasped all the buttons shut and pulled the hood up, casting his face in shadow. He quickly made his way towards the ruddy looking pub and slipped inside. He didn't spare anyone a glance as he quickly made his way purposefully through the pub and out the rear door into the courtyard.
He stood at the brick wall for a moment having suddenly realized that he didn't know how to open the bloody thing without a wand. With a small huff, he walked up and tapped his finger in the appropriate succession while forcing a bit of his magic out, focused onto the tip of his finger.
It apparently worked because a moment later the wall of bricks began to shift and collapse into itself, revealing the archway to Diagon Alley.
It was mid day and the alley was annoying busy. Harry kept his head down and hood drawn as he quickly rushed through the Alley towards the bank. He didn't have the time to stop and observe the alley any. He'd been to it countless times over the years in his previous life, and his parents had brought him with them to Diagon Alley twice before they went into hiding, in this life. He had long since outgrown the air of awe and wonder that had filled him the first time he set foot in his alley.
He dodged and swerved around people all bustling and rushing to their own destinations. Finally he came up upon the fork in the road where Gringott's bank rested. Down one side of the fork Diagon Alley continued. Down the other was Knockturn Alley. A huge part of him longed to go down and visit the dark alley, but he knew that in his current body and without a wand that would be suicide.
Instead he continued on with his goal and climbed the white marble stairs and rushed through the large double-doors to the bank. The goblin guard at the door looked at him through narrowed eyes and barred his pointy teeth in an intimidating mockery of a smile. Harry just smirked back and continued on his way towards one of the desks along the furthest wall from the entrance.
He came to stand at the side of the desk, waiting for the goblin there to look up and acknowledge him. After an annoying minute the little gray creature looked up and sneered at him.
"What do you want, boy? I do not deal with children."
Harry's eyes narrowed and his lip curled in disdain. "You should watch your tongue goblin. You may regret your words one day. I am not just a child, I am a customer. I seek an audience with one of the goblins responsible for frozen vault claims."
The goblin sneered at Harry but snapped his overly-long fingers and a little light on the wall beside some sort of goblin rune lit up.
"Wait a moment, sir, and goblin Braggok will be right with you."
Harry gave the goblin a cold but curt nod and waited. Several minutes later a goblin emerged from one of the many doors along the wall and looked around with an air of annoyance on his face. He went over to the goblin that Harry had spoken to a moment earlier and the two exchanged a few words in gobbledygook. Then the goblin Braggok looked up at Harry with an even more annoyed look before coming over and greeting him.
After a brief exchange of words, Braggok led Harry back through one of the doors, down a long hallway lined with doors and into a crowded, cluttered office filled with strange filing cabinets all overflowing with papers. Braggok sat down in his chair behind the desk and Harry sat in the chair opposite him.
"How may I be of service to you today, young master?" Braggok asked with an overly faked toothy grin.
"I wish to claim a frozen vault."
"Obviously, if you are speaking with me. Which vault do you believe you have the rights to stake a claim in?"
"The vaults of Herakles Valerius. There should be a document on file listing the specifications he designated to determining who could claim his vaults after his death."
The goblin gave Harry a piercing look for a moment before giving a curt nod. He snapped his fingers and one of the many filing cabinets opened up and after the sound of shuffling papers filled the office for a moment, a folder came flying out and sailed across the room to land directly in front of Braggok.
He opened it and thumbed through the papers for a moment before finding the right one and taking a moment to read it. He frowned, then raised a single eyebrow in curiosity, and then glanced back at Harry who was sitting patiently across from him with a bored look on his face.
Braggok pulled a piece of parchment out of the folder and set it down on the desk in front of Harry. It appeared to be completely blank. Braggok closed the file, set it down and folded his hands on his desk.
Harry sat forward and looked the goblin in the eye. "Do you have a quill made from a flight feather of an eagle owl? Preferably black?"
The goblin's eyes widened minutely before he nodded his head, snapped his fingers and the feather quill appeared.
Harry picked it up, turned it around in his hand three times before setting it on the desk in front of him.
"Do you have red ink?"
Again the goblin nodded his head, snapped his fingers and an ink bottle appeared before him.
Harry looked at it, then back up at the goblin. "The ink well should be made of clear glass."
The corner of the goblin's mouth turned up ever so slightly. He snapped his fingers again and the ink well changed.
Harry picked up the feather, moved it to his left hand, then to his right, then dipped it into the ink. He put it down on the blank parchment at the top center and then drew a single line down the center of the page, all the way to the bottom.
Next, on the left-hand side he wrote the rune Ansuz, then Eihwaz. On the right-hand side, he drew the rune Dagaz. Beneath it he drew triangle, then inside the triangle he drew a circle and a line bisecting down the center of both. It was the symbol from the ring Tom had stolen from his uncle and made into one of his horcruxes.
Harry pondered for a moment, wondering what Tom might have done with the ring after Heri had died. He had been wearing it at the time of his murder. He doubted very much that Tom would have buried one of his horcruxes with Heri's corpse. Not unless, he placed a mountain of protections and wards around where ever the hell he'd buried Heri.
Harry set the quill down with the pointed end towards the ink well. He put both of his hands on the desk then lifted them up, picked the quill back up and turned it over, setting it on the opposite side of the ink well, pointed end still aiming at the ink well.
"I need another quill. One made from the tail feather of a peregrine falcon. Can you provide that?" Harry asked.
"I cannot." The goblin answered, giving Harry an amused pointed-toothy grin.
Harry smiled back. "A kestral then?"
"Yes, young sir." The goblin snapped his fingers and the new feather quill appeared.
"And blue ink, this time in a black stone ink well."
Braggok nodded, snapped his fingers and the new ink well appeared.
Harry dipped the quill in it, drew a horizontal line across the paper, bisecting it in half again. Next he took the red ink well and poured all of its contents into the blue ink well. Picked up the eagle owl feather, placed it in the ink well, then picked up the kestral feather and placed it in the now empty glass ink well. He set the two on each side of the parchment and set back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest.
"Is this satisfactory?" Harry asked.
The goblin's brows were raised slightly and he nodded his head. "You performed every step detailed in the instructions to perfection. You even spoke the words, line for line. I must admit, that the steps dictated for this claim are quite... odd."
"Yes, I imagine they are." Harry said with an amused grin that told the goblin that he would be getting no details out of the young wizard.
Braggok grumbled quietly as he re-opened the file and took out a sheet of paperwork for the account transfer.
"What is your name?" Braggok asked as he inked a quill of his own and poised ready to write down the answers.
"Harry James Potter."
Braggok's quill froze an inch from the paper and he looked up at Harry with obvious surprise in his eyes.
Harry noticed that the goblin's eyes darted up to his forehead.
"Is there a problem?" Harry asked, feeling slightly annoyed.
"No problem at all, Mr. Potter. I was simply surprised by your identity, that's all." Braggok quickly wrote Harry's name down on the paper. "Date of birth?"
"July thirty-first, nineteen eighty-one."
"That makes you five, nearly six years old. Are you aware, Mr. Potter, that the Valerius vaults contain a great deal of money and valuable, irreplaceable artifacts? It would not do for such a valuable account to be left solely in the control of a child. I would hate to see it mishandled..."
"I am quite aware of the contents of the vaults, Mr. Braggok. I appreciate your concern but I am quite a bit more responsible with my finances than the average five-year old. I also know that the instructions for the transfer of ownership dictated that no matter what the new owners age or youth that full control of the vault and its contents be transferred."
"You are correct young sir."
"There won't be any problems?"
"No, sir, there shouldn't be any problems."
"Good."
Braggok asked him a few more questions as he completed the transfer paperwork. Then the goblin stood and with another snap of his fingers a duplicate was made of the form. One copy went into the original folder and it was sent back into the filing cabinet. The other vanished from thin air.
"I will retrieve your new vault keys, Mr. Potter and arrange for one of our people to take you down to the vault. One of the keys is to the Valerius vault in our Rome branch, the other is to the personal vault here in our London branch. Do you wish to visit your Potter trust vault while here?"
Harry blinked. "My what?"
"The trust vault left to you by your parents."
"I was unaware that I had a trust vault. Was there also a family vault? I don't have a key for any Potter vaults. In fact, I have no idea who might be holding it at the moment."
The goblin's face twisted in annoyance and surprise. "Would you like for me to arrange a meeting with the manager of the Potter estates?"
"Yes, please."
"He will need to be called up from below. I can have one of our workers take you to the Valerius vault and you can meet with the Potter vault manager afterwards if you would like."
"That sounds good, Please arrange it."
"Yes, young sir. It will just be a moment."
Harry nodded is head as Braggok left the room. He returned a minute later with the familiar keys to Harry's old vaults and escorted Harry out of the office, back down the hall and towards the main bank entry hall. They turned and headed through the large doors that lead to the entrance to the cart system.
"This is Griphook. Griphook, please take Mr. Potter down to the Valerius vault, number 773."
The goblin Griphook nodded and grunted at Harry to follow. The two got into the cart and a moment later they were rushing down steep cavern-carved tunnels on a rail track in an insanely fast metal cart. Harry was of the mind that no matter how many lives he lived, he doubted he would ever truly become accustomed to these damn carts.
After a hair raising ride, they arrived at the familiar vault and exited the cart. Griphook asked for the key, which Harry handed over. The vault door was opened and Harry's key was returned. He quickly stepped inside while Griphook waited by the cart.
The vault was exactly as he had left it. The only difference was that on a small pedestal that he had left in the very center of the large vault now sat his wand. Harry took a few quick strides forward the reached out for the wand.
A worried pit filled his gut as he was filled with doubts that it would somehow not be compatible with him in his new body, even though he knew it had nothing to do with his body and everything to do with his magical core – which had not changed.
All of his fears were quelled as his fingers wrapped around the holly wood wand and he felt that familiar warm tingle rush through his fingers, up his arm and deep inside him. He let out a slow, relieved sigh and grasped the wand tighter.
He looked around the vault, taking the familiar room in fully now. He slipped his knapsack off his shoulder and set it on the floor of the vault. He pointed his wand at it and silently cast a space expansion charm on it so that the interior would hold more than looked possible. Then he cast a feather weight charm on it so it would always be light. This was especially important considering that his five-year old body was crap at heavy lifting. He stowed his wand in his coat pocket and quickly set to stuffing some possessions into the bag. In the deep front pocket, he stuffed several hand-fulls of galleons.
Satisfied for now, he slung the knapsack back over his shoulder and left the vault.
Once he and Griphook reached the surface level again Harry entered the main entry hall just in time to be greeted by another rather ancient looking goblin. The goblin introduced himself as Blitzik, manager of the Potter estates and led Harry into another private office. The two each sat down on either side of a cluttered desk and the goblin leveled Harry with a curious gaze.
"Before we continue, I must prove that you are who you claim to be." Blitzik said opening a desk drawer and pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill. He set them on the desk in front of Harry and Harry scooted forward to get a better look at them.
The parchment had tiny goblin runes all along the edges of the paper. The quill, Harry recognized as a blood quill.
"It is a simple enough process. All you have to do is write your name on this piece of parchment, using this quill. If it is your true name, it will remain in place. If it is not, it will be burned off the parchment."
Harry nodded his head as he reached over and picked up the quill. As he was about to place it onto the parchment, Blitzik interrupted him.
"I must warn you, Mr. Potter, that this is a blood quill. It will use your own blood to write instead of ink."
"I know," Harry said and returned to his task, writing out his full name on the parchment. The back of his hand stung for a moment and he saw his name appear on his own flesh in faint red marks. He set the quill down and the marks on his hand faded away until they were gone.
The words on the parchment glowed for a moment and then did nothing at all.
Blitzik gave Harry a curt approving nod and took the quill and parchment back form him.
"Very good. Things seem to be in order. Now, I am to understand, Mr. Potter, that you have not been receiving the statements on the status of your vaults?" Blitzik asked.
"That is correct. I was actually unaware that I even had any vaults. Can you tell me how many I've got?"
"You have your trust vault, to which you are already supposed to have access. There is also the Potter Family Estate vault, however you are not allowed to remove any of the contents from that vault until you reach the age of maturity."
Harry nodded his head, expecting as much.
"You also own two pieces of property," Blitzik continued and Harry looked up and blinked.
"Property?"
"Yes," Blitzik paused and leafed through a folder that was open on his desk. "You are the owner of a house in the wizarding village Godric's Hollow. You also are the sole owner of a five-acre piece of unplottable land in Edinburgh. It says here that there is no property on the land, it is merely a reserve for magical creatures. There is a file in the family vault that has complete details."
Harry paused in thought for a moment, frowning slightly. The house in Godric's Hollow was obviously the house he had spent his first year with the Potters in. He had completely forgotten about the house.
"The house in Godric's Hollow is sitting empty?"
"Correct. It is noted here that the house sustained damage during the attack upon your family."
"Damage? How bad?"
"It does not say."
Harry nodded his head slowly again in thought.
"So you said that you've been sending me statements?"
"Yes."
"I haven't gotten any." Harry said with a pointed look. Blitzik frowned angrily.
"We will have to address that..." the goblin growled.
"What about my keys? Where might they be?"
Blitzik flipped through a few more papers and suddenly his eyes narrowed and his lips curled in a tight snarl. "It would appear that you have a magical guardian on file. Are you living with muggles?"
"Yes, I am. Who's my magical guardian?"
"Albus Dumbledore. He is listed on file as being the only adult contact in the magical world for you. He is in possession of your keys."
This time it was Harry who snarled. "He doesn't have access to the vaults, does he?"
The goblin frowned again. "It would seem that he has access to the trust vault."
"Has anything been removed from the vault since my parents died?"
Blitzik flipped another page. "It appears that there have been two withdrawals since the elder Potters died. One was a sum of one thousand galleons. The other withdrawal was an object, but the vault's inventory only shows that it contained money and one object that was never specifically described or cataloged so I cannot tell you what the object removed was."
"Fucking bastard!" Harry bellowed and banged his fist against the desk.
Blitzik's eyes widened with a mixture of shock and amusement.
"Is there any way to get it back?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.
"Legally, Albus Dumbledore has the right to access the vault, which includes removing objects from it."
"How did that happen anyway? Did my parents have a will? I'm fairly sure that I was supposed to be left in the care of my godfather, Sirius Black, but that obviously didn't happen. Did my parents list Dumbledore as a secondary guardian or something?"
Blitzik flipped through several more pages but frowned after a minute of apparently not finding what he wanted. He snapped his finger and a piece of parchment appeared on his desk. He scribbled something on it and snapped his fingers again, causing it to vanish. "This will take a moment, Mr. Potter. I have requested a copy of your parents will be delivered to us. A copy should have been in this folder, but it appears missing."
Harry's eyes narrowed more in anger but he gave the goblin a curt nod and sat back in his chair.
A few minutes later there was a light knock on the door, Blitzik waved his hand, causing it to open and in walked a much younger looking goblin. He looked nervous and walked over ot Blitzik and whispered in his ear. The elder goblin's frown deepened and his whole face was contorted with a scowl.
He spoke to the younger goblin in gobbledegook for a moment before the younger one left. Blitzik turned back to Harry, still frowning.
"It appears that we have some complications in reference to your parents will."
"How so?" Harry asked curtly.
"Their will was sealed by order of the head of the Wizengamot."
"So, it was sealed on Albus Dumbledore's orders."
"Yes. The reasons state that it was for your safety. If it was known who got custody of you after your parents death, that information could be used to find you and that could put you life at risk."
"Alternately, sealing the will prevents anyone from finding out who my guardian is actually supposed to be." Harry ground out through clenched teeth. "Funny how he also managed to make himself my magical guardian and gain access to my vault."
"Yes... it is... curious." Blitzik sneered.
Harry folded his hand on Blitzik's desk and looked down at them, focusing in thought. He needed to examine this situation rationally before he took any action. It would not do to get Dumbledore's eye focused on him so early. He had access to his magic and now he had his wand back, but his body was still too weak to make full use of any of his powers without utterly exhausting himself or causing actual bodily damage. There was no way he could defend himself, magically, against Albus Dumbledore right now. And he certainly couldn't do it politically either.
So he had to avoid doing anything that would draw Dumbledore's attention to him...
"How long ago was the last withdrawal that Dumbledore made?" Harry asked.
"Both withdrawals occurred within the fist six months after your parents death."
"And there's been no activity since?"
"None."
"I suppose it's safe to assume that the bank statements that are supposed to be going to me are most likely getting redirected to him instead?"
The goblin's beady eyes narrowed again in anger. "It would appear that such an assumption may not be too far off."
Harry nodded his head. He would have to look into that as well. If Dumbledore was intercepting his mail from the goblins, there was no telling what other mail he'd intercepted as well. He clearly wanted Harry to remain absolutely ignorant of the magical world, so it made sense that he would prevent any letters about or from it from ever reaching him. The Dursley's would also have thrown a fit if owls were delivering post to their house. They obviously wouldn't be stupid enough to do any such thing now, but before Harry had taken steps against them... well, it would have been bad.
"I intend to set up a private post box," Harry said finally. "I'll return afterwards and provide you with the address. Is there a way that we can keep this information on file, but make it unable for Dumbledore to have access to it, should he ever come to inquire?"
"I believe that the proper arrangements can be made."
"Good."
"Shall we discontinue sending statements the traditional way?"
"No, that would draw his attention." Harry paused and frowned. "Are there any other objects left in the trust vault, or is it just money that's left?"
"The only thing that is in the vault at this point is money."
"Well, I've got plenty of that in my other vault, so I suppose I don't care much about that. And you're sure he cannot access the family estate vault?"
"He cannot."
"Good. Then allow him to continue to receive statements on the trust account. If anything changed, he would likely take notice of it. I don't want to risk drawing his attention this early in the game."
"Considering the wizard you are dealing with, that is most likely a wise choice." Blitzik said in a low, serious tone.
Harry nodded his head in appreciation of the goblin's remark. The goblins had never been fond of Dumbledore. Even in Harry's last life, that had been true. They hated the Ministry, they hated the Wizengamot. Hell, they even hated the International Confederation of Wizards, and Dumbledore was the head of that, too.
Dumbledore had been part of a number of negotiation processes that had occurred over the years between the wizarding governments and the goblin nation, and not a one of those negotiations had gone in the goblin's favor.
Tom had been trying for years to get the goblins to side with him in his war, but the goblins refused to stick their pointed noses into 'wizarding wars'. They said it was none of their concern and that they would stay neutral. When a victor was decided, they would begin negotiations with whoever ended up in power, but until they, they were out.
Harry could appreciate their position and didn't really blame them for it.
"Did you want to visit your vault, Mr. Potter?" Blitzik asked.
"No, I don't think that will be necessary. I do need a copy of the key made, however."
"Ah yes. I have that right here." Blitzik flipped to the back page of the folder. On the flat bit of cardstock there appeared to be a drawing of a small drawer with a handle. The goblin tapped his finger on the drawing and the handle popped out of the page. He pulled it and a drawer slid out with it. In the drawer was a key. He closed the drawer and it returned to looking like a drawing on paper, and handed the key over to Harry.
"Thank you. When I return with the address for my post box, can I just drop it off with one of the goblins at the desks?"
"Yes, that should be fine, Mr. Potter. Tell them it is for me and I shall get it arranged."
"I'll also need that address assigned to my Valerius accounts, now that I think about it. Braggok was the goblin who made the transfer, but I don't think I have a goblin actually handling my accounts yet. Could you be assigned to handle both?"
"I would be most honored, Mr. Potter."
"Good."
Harry and Blitzik finished up their business, which included Blitzik giving Harry a statement of his current total assets and then Harry was shown his way out. The first thing he did after leaving the bank was head directly towards the Owl Post Rental office in Diagon Alley. You could rent post owls there for single use to send out a letter or package, but you could also rent post boxes there.
He was about to walk in when it occurred to him that they would likely pitch a fit if he tried to rent a post box on his own. He was five. Five year old don't rent things.
He to a small detour and ducked into the space between the post office and the building next to it and then around to the back of the buildings. He stood there in the empty space beside some trash bins for a moment, trying to figure out what his options were.
He could pay someone else to set it up for him, but then that someone else would know about it. He could try to obliviate that person, but he wasn't sure his body could handle a spell that advanced yet. Mind magics always took a lot of energy and focus. Focus he had, but the ability to physically handle the energy he was lacking.
He would really rather not have to involve another person in this, especially since it was likely he would encounter this problem a lot. He needed a way to do this stuff himself.
One option was polyjuice potion. That would make him look like whoever he wanted, as long as he managed to get some hairs from someone. And it would even increase his size. Of course, he didn't have any polyjuice potion, and it was a controlled substance and as such, difficult to come by. Even more so for a five-year old. Plus, it only lasted an hour and made him look like someone else, specifically.
Glamours didn't immediately seem like an option since a glamour could only change your appearance to a set extent. It could slightly modify muscle mass, fat mass, coloration of things, and cartilage. But glamours couldn't do anything to your bone structure, which meant he would remain as short as he was now.
Perhaps he could pretend he was some sort of halfbreed? Make himself out to be part goblin. Then it wouldn't be so odd that he was only three and a half feet tall.
That could work.
Deciding that it was the best option he had at the moment, he pulled out his wand and conjured himself a mirror and attached to the the back wall of the building he was standing beside, with a sticking charm. He spent the next fifteen minutes modifying his appearance and transfiguring his clothes.
He went with clothing styles similar to those he'd seen the goblins themselves wearing, while making his coat look like an actual wizard cloak.
When he was done he looked like a very short man in his late thirties, but with slightly pointy ears and teeth to give the hint of goblin ancestry.
He stowed his wand, re-shouldered his knapsack and left the small alley. He slipped into the post office and entered the queue for one of the service windows. When he got to it, he was too short to even see the shelf. He made a show of giving a disgruntled sigh as if he had encountered this problem a thousand times. He pulled out his wand and conjured himself a step-stool. A moment later he was high enough that he could rest his elbows on the little ledge of the window.
The witch behind it watched him with an air of apologetic amusement the entire time. When he gave her an annoyed look she appeared sheepish, cleared her throat and asked him how she could help him today.
"Yes, I just recently moved to London and I would like to arrange for a private post box."
"Alright sir. There is a monthly fee of five galleons for a space expanded post box slot. Packages up to two feet square can fit within it. For the larger parcel post box, it's a monthly fee of ten galleons a month."
"The standard size is fine," Harry said dismissively. "Can I arrange for auto payments from my Gringott's account, or do I have to come in person to may the payments?"
"We can arrange for automatic withdrawals from your account."
"Good."
The woman handed over a piece of paperwork and he grabbed an auto-inking quill from the desk and began to fill out his account information.
"What name is the post box account going to be under?" The woman asked as he wrote.
"Lucan Valerius," Harry replied easily. No one beside Tom and a very select few ever knew his real full name. As far as he was aware, Dumbledore had never known him as anything other than Herakles Jude. He would still avoid use of the name Herakles, just to be safe.
After all of the appropriate paperwork was filled out and he had handed over five galleons for the first month payment, she handed him a small card with the address he could hand out to have post sent here. He had also gone with the option for an enchantment to be cast that would magically attract any owl with a package or letter addressed to 'Lucan Valerius' to this location, so even if the specific street address of this post office wasn't included on the package, it would still come here and end up in his box.
He thanked the woman for her assistance and left. He returned to Gringott's, not bothering to remove his glamours, went up to one of the desk goblins and left a note for Blitzik with his new address before leaving again.
He went to the Leaky Cauldron and got himself lunch. Afterwards he made his way to a robes shop – it looked like the most popular one on the alley at the moment was a place called Madam Malkin's. He got measured and ordered a few sets of appropriate sized robes and cloaks. The transfigurations he done on his clothes and his coat weren't permanent, and since he intended to come back to the alley again, he thought it would be best to get some wizarding clothing to lessen the amount to which he 'stuck out'.
He still drew the gazes of some people. Wizards who were most likely old purebloods looked down on him with disdain. He couldn't exactly blame them. As far as they could tell, he was some sort of halfbreed mutt. He'd be doing the same thing if he came across someone who looked as he did at the moment. Still, it was the best he could do with what he had. At least as a halfbreed he still got service and was able to buy things. As a five year old, he'd get chuckled at and then asked in some sickeningly sweet voice where his mummy was.
Sneers were preferable.
When he was done he stuffed his purchases into his space-expanded knapsack and left the shop. He paused to debate his options. He found himself curious about the house he owned in Godric's Hollow. He wanted to check on it in person to see what sort of state it was in. He would have liked a place he could escape to from time to time to get away from the Dursley's. If he was lucky, it wouldn't have any of those pesky monitoring wards cast around it and he'd be able to perform some rituals there.
Setting his mind to his task, he made his way to the Diagon Alley designated apparition point. He had to admit, as he reached the small courtyard where apparition was allowed, that he was a bit nervous about trying this particular method of wizarding travel. He was fairly confident that it wouldn't be a problem, but he also knew that if he were to do something stupid, like splinch himself, that he could end up in a real spot of trouble.
Huffing and pushing past his nerves he closed his eyes and focused on the picture of the backyard he remembered from his infancy, clearly envisioned in his mind. He called forth the feel of his magic and was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of being squeezed through a small tube. A small crack resounded and he felt himself land, even though he'd been standing on the ground already.
His small knees buckled slightly and he stumbled to the ground. A ground which was grassy and overgrown. He opened his eyes, blinking owlishly at his surroundings. A small grin spread across his face as he recognized the backyard of his first home in his second life.
The grass had grown long and wild. The garden was a crazed mess of plants and vines. Harry looked around the space, using his Sight to examine the house and search for any wards. He walked to the gate in the fence that opened to the side of the house and walked around towards the front. As he walked he continued to observe every minute magicalal detail he could pick up.
It was obvious that there were spells cast over the house, but they weren't tracking or recording wards. From what he could gather, the most obvious ones were anti-muggle wards. It looked like it was an illusion spell. If muggles looked upon the house they would see an empty lot. If a wizard looked upon it, they saw the house.
Harry made his way around to the front and looked up at the house.
Blitzik was right about the house having sustained damage. From what he could tell a portion of the roof had been blasted out and caved in. Timber and beams stuck out while roof tiles sunk down into a gaping hole. He frowned. He could fix it, but it was still annoying and it would take a lot of magical energy that he would most likely have difficulty dealing with at this point.
Then his attention was drawn to a sign that was placed in the yard just beyond the front gate. He walked up and read it. It said that the house had been "Preserved in it's ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family".
Harry glared at it balefully. Who, exactly, had 'preserved it in it's ruined state'? And what right did anyone have to do such a thing, anyway? It was his house.
The sign was also graffitied with names and messages, which both annoyed and bewildered him. People had left trinkets and flowers and notes all along the ground beneath the sign as well. Harry frowned as he bent down and picked up a piece of folded parchment that looked surprisingly recent.
He skimmed it, feeling even more bewildered than before and quickly picked up another and then another.
Quite a few of them were letters to him – although many of the people writing them seemed to understand the fact that it was unlikely that he would ever get them. Many of them were thanks to him for his defeat of 'You-Know-Who'. A few were letters from young children with remarks like 'Mummy said you're a great hero of the wizarding world and that you saved us from the bad wizard man', and some had crazier things like 'I heard from my friend that you're best friends with a unicorn and that you ride dragons! Is it true?'
Harry put the letters back onto the ground and pinched the bridge of his nose to slow the growing headache that was forming.
Great... they think I'm some sort of Light wizard savior. He grumbled sarcastically to himself.
He stood up and huffed in frustration as he looked out over the house again. As owner, he could do whatever he wanted with it, but it was obvious that people still came and visited the place fairly regularly, judging by some of the letters. If he fixed it up, people would notice. He could cast another layer of illusions, if he wanted. Muggles would see an empty lot; wizards would see the half-ruined house, and he would see it the way it really was. Obviously he would still want to erect wards that would prevent anyone from actually entering the house.
With that thought he grimaced, realizing it was likely the house had been ransacked inside. He wondered if the inside would have as much graffiti and as many letters as the stupid little sign had had. How irritating.
He turned around and looked up and down the street to see if anyone was out and about. He didn't see anyone and was about to head towards the house when he caught sight of a statue several blocks down the street that had a powerful magical signature to it.
He set off down the street, coming to the village square that featured the large statue in the center of an intersection on a round-about. It had another illusion spell cast over it. To the muggles, and to wizards from a distance, it appeared as a large obelisk, carved with the names of people who died in a war – probably the muggles first Great War. World War I. Upon closer examination however, the memorial morphed and changed into a statue of a family.
At first Harry just frowned at it in confusion, but his confusion morphed into dawning horror and mild disgust.
It was his family. It was his father, James Potter standing beside his mum, Lily, and in her arms was an infant. Him. Harry. They'd made a ruddy statue of them!
He looked down and noticed a small engraving at the base. It read:
James Potter, his wife, Lily Potter, and their son,
Harry Potter;
The-Boy-Who-Lived
The-Boy-Who-Lived? Merlin! They had a bloody crazed nick-name for him! Was he made famous or something by this whole idiotic mess?
His mind wandered back to Braggok's reaction when he'd said his name and he also recalled how the goblin's eyes had traveled to his forehead. Instinctively his hand went up and he fingered the lightening bolt-shaped scar that was currently concealed with glamours.
All of this because they thought he destroyed Tom? Were they that thick? He had been fifteen months old for Mordred's sake! How the hell could anyone honestly delude themselves into believing a fifteen month old baby had been responsible for the death of the most powerful Dark Lord to ever live? Merlin, when Tom came back he was going to be furious!
He was going to need to do some digging into this whole him 'being famous' thing. Quite a few of the letters from children had mentioned being told stories about him before bed. Was his encounter with Tom being distorted in to some sort of freakish bedtime story by wizarding parents?
Sick idiots.
He sighed and turned back down the road to return to the house. He went through the front gate, down the path and use a simple spell to unlock the front door.
He was surprised to find that there was no graffiti inside. No letters or teddy bears, or dead flowers. He realized that everything was layered with a powerful preservation charm. Suspecting what sort of spell it was, he walked over to an overturned end table and put it up right again. A moment later it fell back over in the exact same position that it had been in a moment before.
So this was what was meant by 'preserved in it's ruined state'.
Well, that wasn't a problem. He could get rid of the preservation spell easily enough. At least it had prevented people from nicking things or scrawling all over the walls.
The living room was just as he remembered it, except for a few turned over bits of furniture that likely happened during the very brief battle his father had had with Tom.
Harry made his way up the stairs and felt a breeze and smelled the musty stench of water damage. Mildew and mold filled his nostrils as he reached the portion of the house that was lacking a roof. Apparently the preservation spell cast over stuff didn't prevent water damage. Harry scowled in annoyance. If you're going to do a job, you'd may as well do it right. He sighed and shook his head. It didn't matter, he could fix it. It would just be a very exhausting process, considering his young body. Perhaps he would just stick to the first floor and ignore the upper level all together.
He came to a stop in front of the door to his nursery, reached out to grasp the doorknob and suddenly came to realize that his hand was shaking. On the other side of this door was the room where his second life had blown up in his face. Where his mother – the woman who had loved him utterly and unconditionally – had died by the hands of his lover.
Feeling a sudden flare of anger at himself for allowing his nerves to effect him he pushed forward and turned the door knob.
The room inside was a mess and almost all of the roof here was gone. He could still see the scorch marks on the wall from the splash damage caused by the the killing curse that mysteriously backfired.
There, on the wall opposite the door, was his crib. In the corner of the crib was the old stuffed dragon that Sirius had given him. The floor in front of the crib was completely unremarkable. Tom's robes were gone. There was no dead Lily Potter laying there. It was entirely eerie.
It made him wonder suddenly where his parents had been buried. He didn't know. Perhaps they were buried in this town? Godric's Hallow wasn't that big a village, so it was doubtful it had more than one cemetery. He would have to pay it a visit. He didn't consider himself a sentimental man, but he felt like he owed the Potters something. Some sign of respect. They had been his parents in this life. They had died for him.
He heaved a heavy sign, turned around and quickly left the room. There was a lot of magical residue there that he would want to examine more closely later, but at the moment he wanted nothing more than to get out of there.
He made his way down the stairs and back out the front door. He locked it behind him, although it seemed like an almost pointless gesture since any first year Hogwarts student should know the spell Alohomora.
He returned to the street and began to walk back towards the village square since he was fairly sure he'd seen a church a bit further down the road. He continued on past the statue and saw that there was a church. He continued on to it and just beyond it was an old cemetery.
He went in a few feet and did a quick glance around the numerous old headstones. He pulled his wand out, rested it in his open palm and whispered "Point me, Potter's graves." The wand wiggled for a moment before spinning in his hand and coming to a stop pointing slightly to the right and forward.
He set out quickly, heading in the direction his wand had indicated. It only took him a minute to locate their headstone. A single, large, wide stone was shared between the both of them. James Potter and Lily Potter. Beneath their names and date of births and deaths was an inscription.
"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."
Huh... Harry cocked his head to the side, looking at the words carved into the stone. He knew it was a bible quote. It was from the King James Bible 1 Corinthians 15:25-26 'For he must reign, till he hath put all enemies under his feet. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death'
'Ah, the joys of a perfect memory and being raised by nuns.' Harry thought bitterly.
Still, it was odd. Not once during the year and three months with the Potters had he seen them partake in a single Christian denominational practice. They still did Christmas, but it had been a rather secular celebration. No church visit or anything like that. They had even celebrated Beltane in the spring – which hadn't surprised Harry since James had been from a very old pureblood family – Light oriented or not, they were still wizards and had been for over a thousand years.
So why the bible quote, and why one that seemed so contrary to Dumbledore's agenda? Honestly, the quote seemed more in line with he and Tom's beliefs. It was odd. Definitely something to ponder on. He wondered who had chosen to put it there?
Harry pulled out his wand and conjured a bouquet of wildflowers. He set it down in front of the headstone and lowered his head, giving his deceased parents a moment of silence in apology and in thanks.
With a final sigh he turned and left. Just as he was nearing the gate a rather large and exceptionally old looking tombstone caught his eye and he turned to examine it more closely. In the center of the stone, carved for all the world to see, was the symbol from the ring. The triangle, around a circle, with a vertical line running down the center of each. He blinked at it, stunned to be seeing it for the first time anywhere besides the ring Tom had made into a horcrux and given him.
He stepped closer and brushed a layer of moss and dirt off the old gravestone to reveal the name.
Ignotus Peverell.
Peverell? Where had he heard that name before?
Of course! The ring!
Well, that was obvious... He scolded himself sarcastically.
But he remembered that Tom said that Morfin had told him that the ring was bearing the mark of the Peverell family crest. That the Gaunts were descendents from both the Peverells and the Slytherins. The ring had been passed down through the generations from the Peverell line just like the locket had been from Slytherin's line.
Okay, so supposedly the symbol was the Peverell family's crest. But who were the Peverells?
Harry decided to keep it on the back burner. He had always been curious about the ring. He had long ago determined that it had some powerful necromantic power, and after some research and investigations of his own had determined that the black stone that was set into the ring was most likely a bit of dementor heart. Although how someone had managed to kill a dementor and then steal it's heart was truly a wonder to be pondered upon. Whoever crafted the ring had to have been an exceptionally powerful wizard.
But if the ring had been made by one of these Peverells, perhaps they were skilled necromancers?
Harry's endless and undying curiosity into the necromantic arts would most likely drive him to investigate this matter further in the future, but at the moment he simply didn't have the resources available to him to really accomplish anything.
With another sigh he decided it was time for him to return to his damn muggle relatives on Privet Drive. He had determined that one aspect of the wards created and placed there by Dumbledore checked to make sure that he was never gone from the house for more than two weeks at a time. It had a sort of counter built into it. It reset every time he re-entered the house. From what he could tell, if it ever hit the two week mark, it would most likely trigger some alarm attached to an object that Dumbledore possessed. Harry planned to spend as little time at the house as possible, but he would still sleep there to keep the timer reset.
He decided that the next day he would return to Diagon Alley to buy some more supplies and then come back here and start making some of his fixes to his house.
With that plan in mind, he focused on the image of the Dursley's backyard and apparated away.
– –