Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. This work is not meant for profit. I also do not own Dungeons and Dragons, but it is an amazing game. Because I don't feel like creating Latin names for spells, some of them will be based off of D&D spells. Credit for D&D material goes to Wizards of the Coast.
Chapter 1
At 5:38 in the morning, Privet Drive appeared perfectly normal in every way. It looked exactly the same as it always had on other mornings. To the casual observer, there was nothing worth observing, unless said observer was admiring the multitude of perfect lawns, the epidemic of clean white houses, or the subtle differences in the gardens. In fact, the only unusual occurrence was in number 4, where one unusual boy was writhing in his sleep trying desperately to escape yet another nightmare in which a comrade was murdered and one of the most dangerous men in centuries was given a new form. When at last he escaped the nightmare of his sleeping world, he groaned as he woke to the nightmare that was number 4 Privet Drive. Knowing there was no way to return to the land of sleep even if he wanted to; he lay awake staring at the patterns in the ceiling he had memorized years ago. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he would see the glassy eyes of Cedric Diggory staring back at him. Harry blamed himself for Cedric's death, for Harry had been the one to suggest that they both grab the cup. Harry had insisted on being noble once again, and this time it had finally cost someone their life.
A soft fluttering of wings snapped him from his reverie and he turned to see Hedwig land on his bedpost, back from her nightly hunt. She looked at him and Harry could see the light reflected in her eyes, eyes that looked as though she knew what was bothering him.
He sat up and she flew to his outstretched arm. "Had a good hunt then?" he asked as he stroked her feathers. She gave him a soft hoot which he assumed was a yes and an affectionate nibble on his finger. Harry was glad the order and Sirius had threatened the Dursley's; he knew how much Hedwig hated being caged all summer. Harry himself felt caged in though, ever since he had come back at the request of professor Dumbledore three days ago. He wasn't sure what was so important about him being here anyway. After all, this was hardly the first time he'd had a mass murderer after him. Well, technically Sirius wasn't a murderer, nor was he after Harry, but everyone thought he was so it still counted in Harry's mind. That time he had been allowed to stay in an inn! It was easily one of his favorite summers. He had been allowed to live for a short time on his own terms, and got to know several of the shopkeepers in Diagon Alley. That brought another thought to Harry's mind. Maybe he could go back to Diagon Alley for a few things.
It wouldn't be too hard to slip past the person hiding under the invisibility cloak at the corner of the lawn. After all, anyone who thought that they couldn't be seen while their footprints where wandering around on grass wasn't too bright. Add to that Harry's own invisibility cloak, and all he would have to do was convince his uncle to leave the back door unlocked in the evening for him to slip back in unnoticed. He dug around in his trunk and pulled out his cloak and his sack of coins from his last visit to Gringotts then stuffed them both into his enormous pockets. It was the only advantage to wearing his cousin's oversized clothing as far as Harry was concerned.
After getting ready he went quietly down the steps, remembering to skip the one that squeaked so as to avoid waking anyone else. After entering the kitchen he looked through the cabinets and the fridge before deciding to make omelets for himself and Vernon, figuring a peace offering as well as the promise not to be in the house all day would get him to allow a slightly freer living arrangement for Harry.
There were many things that Harry could call his uncle, but late for a meal was certainly not on that list. True to form, as the scent of food on the stove wafted through the house, his uncle awoke. After his morning routine he too entered the kitchen and assumed a look of surprise, confusion, and anger at the same time, to the effect of having an expression that would have made babies wail in horror. He settled on asking venomously, "Just what do you think you're doing in my kitchen, boy?"
Harry simply looked at him and replied, "Cooking breakfast uncle Vernon. Care for some?"
"What have you done to it boy? Do you think you can poison me?" He sneered as though the very thought of his nephew being helpful was absurd.
"Would you believe I simply want to make breakfast for you?"
"No."
"Alright then. I want you to leave the back door unlocked this evening. I plan on spending some time elsewhere and I would prefer to do so discreetly."
"And just why should I let you leave at all?" Vernon said as he accepted the plate from Harry. Secretly, this plan didn't sound too bad to him, except for the bit about the blasted boy coming back again.
"Would you prefer I stayed?" Harry used every ounce of his willpower not to smirk as he waited for the enormous man to decide that the less time Harry spent in the house, the less time there was for him to somehow ruin everything in it.
At this Vernon began eating as he considered his options. Forcing the boy to stay would mean having a freak in the house, but allowing him to leave would allow him to possibly enjoy himself. Then he remembered he wasn't really allowed to torture the boy as he would tell those other freaks and then there was no way of knowing what would happen. If he couldn't drive the freakishness out of the boy, then why have him around the house? Plus, he had made a delicious breakfast, not that he would ever admit such a thing. As Vernon finished his breakfast he noted that Harry was also eating, something which he tried not to allow if he could help it. Oh well, maybe this could still be worked to his advantage. He turned to Harry and said, "If you make breakfast for me every morning you're here, I'll let you leave the house. But don't tell me where you're going. If you get lost it's your fault and I won't help you back. Got it boy?"
Harry smiled. It was almost too good to be true. While it was annoying that he would have to cook at least for his uncle every morning – his aunt and cousin preferred to sleep in to a more reasonable hour when they could – he would get a bit more practice at cooking on top of being able to eat and leave the house at will. "I promise to let you know if I won't be back so that you won't leave that door unlocked for no reason, but don't try to lock me out. It wouldn't go well for you if I have to ask for help getting back in." That stopped Vernon for a moment, but Harry knew the last thing his uncle wanted was more "freaks". A grudging nod from his uncle later and Harry got up and left out the back.
As he donned his invisibility cloak he marveled at how invigorating it was to be able to go nearly anywhere. It wasn't hard for him to find the footprints now pacing near his neighbors. He idly wondered who it was but decided that it was unimportant. To be safe though, he walked several blocks away before summoning the Knight Bus. Moments later, he heard a loud BANG as the bus appeared and skidded to a halt directly in front of him. The familiar voice of Stan Shunpike greeted him, "Hello, and welcome to the Knight bus. I'm Stan Shunpike… 'Ey! Ain't you that Neville Longbottom kid what was pretending to be 'Arry Potter?"
"Er, I'm not sure I know what you mean"
Stan considered this for a moment, then decided it probably didn't matter who was pretending to be who so long as they paid. "Well, anyways, it's eleven sickles if you don't want anyfink extra, where choo wanna go again?"
"The Leaky Cauldron, in London." After paying the fare to a nodding Shunpike, Harry was promptly flung to the rear of the bus as it took off. If he hadn't known better, Harry would have thought the bus had a small control over time, as the next few minutes seemed to take much longer than minutes had any right to do.
As soon as Harry stepped off, a loud 'bang' signaled the departure of the bus and he threw on his cloak again, then proceeded to Diagon Alley through the pub. It felt good to be back here in the wizarding world where he felt he belonged. Deciding that the first stop on his list should be Gringotts in the event that he should find anything he wanted to buy, he walked toward the white building in the distance. Of course, as he was invisible, Harry had to take care not to bump into too many people, something he knew from his frequent nightly tours of Hogwarts and a few unscheduled trips into Hogsmeade. Something he was not accustomed to however, was avoiding someone rushing towards him suddenly. If he hadn't had his cloak on he would have sworn it was intentional, but from the way she fell down after their collision he was sure it was an accident. He was also aware that the hood of his cloak had come down leaving him with a sense of déjà vu. "Maybe I should see if she's alright," thought Harry as he simultaneously stood up and hid his cloak. He had never before been glad that Dudley's old clothes were so large on him. The girl looked oddly familiar, yet different as he offered his hand out to help her up. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't see you there."
She accepted the hand gratefully until she looked him in the eyes. A look of recognition flitted across her face, followed closely by confusion and a hint of something that Harry couldn't recognize. "Just what do you think you're doing Potter? Wait, how did I not see you?"
"Er, well, um…"
"Never mind that, if you can do it again I need you to follow me. Don't ask questions, I'll explain shortly." She then turned around and walked away, without making any obvious glances to ensure someone was following.
"Why is it always me?" thought Harry as he again pulled on his cloak. This time however he drew his wand before following, just in case this was some sort of trick. He was still trying to recall just where he had seen her. Trailing a few feet behind so that he could watch for an ambush while keeping an eye on the stranger, he saw her walk into Twilfitt and Tattings, a clothing store known to carry some of the more expensive fashions. Harry, who had rarely done his shopping without the Weasleys, had never even paused long enough to window shop there. After entering cautiously, he spotted the girl casually browsing through dresses. "Was I really brought in here for this?" He wondered. Once she had her selection, she whispered, "If you're still there come with me," as she walked toward one of the changing rooms.
"Are you serious?" he whispered back.
"Don't be stupid. I won't be changing while you're here. Just get in. I don't have all day." Then she walked in and held the door. A quick examination of the room revealed that it was much larger than it looked from the outside. Of course, it probably was much larger than it should have been thanks to magic. Harry trained his wand on her but entered as he was told. He readied a stunning spell when he saw her draw her wand, but was even more confused when she set it on the bench on the side of the room. "I wanted to come in here because this store has some of the most private changing rooms anywhere. They're silenced, imperturbable, and have a host of other security measures to prevent anyone from peeping on others. I know this sounds crazy, and I won't blame you for not trusting me. But let me start by telling me I believe you. I wanted to believe the ministry and pretend You-Know-Who isn't back, but just yesterday Lucius came to our house to offer my parents a chance to join the Death Eaters."
Harry was caught off guard. This was definitely not what he was expecting. "Wait, what do you mean the ministry says Voldemort isn't back? I was there! I saw him!" The girl flinched at Voldemort's name. Suddenly, the rest of her statement caught up to Harry, and he suddenly realized he was looking at Pansy Parkinson without her being attached to the arm of Draco Malfoy. He hadn't recognized her because her face looked markedly different from when he'd seen her at Hogwarts. Also, with her face not contorted into a sneer, Harry had to admit that she wasn't unattractive as she had once been. However, after she recovered, she hissed at him, "Don't say the name!"
"Why, are you afraid he might show up or something? Do you really think he's going to drop by and decide he needs new robes for the next dark lord's ball or something?" Harry was so tired of everyone panicking just because of a silly superstition. "It's just a name. It's not like saying it will tell him exactly where you are, or he'd have killed me ages ago. Or tried more frequently at any rate." She simply responded to this with a glare.
"Anyway, I'm not going to let my parents join up with him. The problem is that we don't really have any alternatives. The ministry has planted its head in the ground, and its rear is working over time making sure nobody believes you. My parents aren't really fond of Dumbledore because he rarely shares information until it's too late, but he still expects everyone to tell him everything. That, unfortunately, leaves you."
Harry frowned at the implications of him being an 'unfortunate' choice. "Just what exactly do you expect me to do? And how did you know how to find me here? I didn't tell anyone I was going to be here."
"Actually that was an accident. I was in a bit of a hurry to get to the Public Owl Post Office to send you a letter that couldn't be traced back to me, when I bumped into someone and you helped me up. Speaking of which, that's a really good disillusionment charm. Even I haven't managed one that good yet."
"Well, uh… that's a secret for now." It would be best to let her assume what she wanted for now.
She looked slightly disappointed but continued. "I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of an alliance between the houses of Parkinson and Potter." Harry was glad his cloak was still on, because he was sure seeing his jaw drop that far would not have been in his favor. "If you'll help hide our family from the Death Eaters somehow, we'll do what we can for you, and based on all the trouble you seem to get into, you could probably use the help."
Harry gave this some thought. On the one hand, if she was being honest, then her family was in trouble no matter what happened. On the other, she had never been all that pleasant to him or his friends, and this could simply be another trick or part of a devious plan. "How do I know you're not actually working for the Death Eaters and trying to kidnap me and bring me back to Voldemort?" She flinched once again. "Oh come on. Voldemort. Voldemort. He's not coming to get you just because I said his name! It's not even his real name anyway, he just made it up so no one would know he's a half blood." At that her eyebrow shot up.
"How do you know he's a half blood?"
"He told me."
"You actually talked to the Dark Lord? Are you mental?"
"He's really quite the conversationalist when he thinks you're about to die." Harry said with a smirk, not that she could see it.
He could see Pansy processing this new piece of information. It was almost amusing. "It's not a trap, but if you want I can give you an oath. My parents aren't aware of this little meeting, but they do know I was going to try to find help. I swear I'm not trying to give you up to You-Know-Who. He's bad for business, and we'd have more to gain by using you as a bargaining chip later than we could now. At least for now he's laying low while the ministry tears you and Dumbledore apart, so that when he returns it will be that much worse for everyone."
"Would you really give an oath that this isn't a trap? I still don't know how I could help you. I might have to ask Dumbledore to do it anyway. Is that okay?"
This made her uncomfortable, but she had to do something. "Well, as long as you make it clear to Dumbledore that all of our deals are going through you and not him, then we can work it out on a case by case basis. And yes, I can and will give you that oath." She reached for her wand but Harry stopped her by saying, "That's not necessary. What I don't understand is why you're coming to me. Aren't you supposed to be Malfoy's girlfriend?"
She shuddered. "Well, he lives near us, and we grew up together. He's always been a bit spoiled but lately he's been hitting record levels of arrogance. He honestly expects his father to give him anything he asks for now that You-Know-Who is back. At least when we were kids he was nice. I only stayed with him for appearances after second year. It was sickening the way he ruined our quidditch team by forcing his way into the seeker spot. Now we can't win a game that we don't cheat horribly at, and he still can't beat you." She smiled a bit to herself remembering how pitifully Draco kept losing to Harry, especially the time when the snitch had been just behind his ear and Harry made it halfway across the pitch to get to it first. "As for why I'm coming to you, well," she paused trying to think of the words. "You-Know-Who seems to have a hard time killing you. It doesn't make sense to me that he would try so hard, but he has, and you're still around. That puts you on a very short list of people that have fought him and lived. I'm pretty sure that you haven't had much training, so that means you're either the luckiest person alive, or you're something far more than we can fathom. My family has connections to a lot of people, and we can arrange real training for you, so that next time you won't have to rely so heavily on luck. It would be even nicer if you accidently finished him off too, but we'll settle for simply being on your side."
"My side? Why not on Dumbledore's side?"
"I already told you, my parents aren't fond of Dumbledore. He's getting old, even for a wizard, so being on his side won't help us that long anyway. You, on the other hand, are famous and powerful, a combination that can make your side that much better for everyone with you. Your know-it-all friend and that bottomless pit that you associate with would be total outcasts if they weren't your friends." That comment irritated Harry, because he didn't like when anyone insulted his friends.
"Hermione and Ron have proven their worth to me several times. Don't insult them. Especially not in front of me." She was taken aback by the cold steel in his voice.
"No, I didn't mean to insult them, but Granger insists on acting like she's the only one who knows all the answers simply because she can memorize entire textbooks in a week, and you can't tell me that Weasley's eating habits don't hurt your appetite at all." Harry was forced to admit she had a point, but then Hermione's mental library had saved his life several times so he wasn't about to complain about that. He secretly agreed about Ron's eating habits though.
"So if I accept, how is this going to work?"
It appeared that Pansy's plans hadn't actually gotten that far, but considering she hadn't planned on this meeting she thought things were going quite well. "I'll have to talk things over with my parents, but I think we could arrange for you to portkey into our manor. I think Leo still owes them a favor so they might be able to arrange for him to train you. He trained Mad Eye Moody, so that ought to tell you something about how good he is. Can I send you an owl with the details later?"
Harry pondered this for a moment. He still hadn't seen any owls from his friends, and with the spy sitting in his front lawn, he wasn't sure if his owls were being monitored also. "Actually, it might be better if we just meet here again. I think I'm being watched at home, so an owl could give something away. Can you be here tomorrow or Friday?"
She nodded. "I'm sure they'll be quick about it, what say we meet here tomorrow at three o' clock?"
He decided another shock would probably put things in his favor, and pulled off his cloak before offering his hand. "That should work. I'll wait out front for you."
Her eyes went wide when he pulled off his invisibility cloak. They were extremely valuable and Harry actually had one! No wonder he could get away with all of those stunts at school! Then her eyes went to the rest of his clothing and confusion spread across her face. "What are you wearing those rotten things for?"
He looked down and realized his clothes were from Dudley as were all of his muggle clothes. "Well, if I come home wearing anything they didn't give me, they'll know I have money and try to take it from me. These all belonged to my cousin."
Pansy was shocked. She didn't know if she was more surprised that Harry's relatives were apparently evil (for no one could possibly force those clothes onto anyone without being evil) or that someone actually needed clothes that wide to cover themselves. "I think we can arrange a lawyer for you as well. Those rags are barely fit to be burned. Would you like to do a bit of private shopping tomorrow as well? I don't really want to be seen anywhere near those clothes."
"I think people would recognize me. You know, the whole Boy-Who-Lived nonsense? The stupid scar?"
"Oh don't worry about that. I've always had been good with illusion spells. It's really the only magic I've ever been good at. I could have you completely unrecognizable in seconds. Would you like to see?" She picked up her wand and pointed it toward him.
"Uh, sure, I suppose." With a few muttered words and a complicated wand movement he saw his reflection in the mirror change. He now looked as though he had a perfect tan, sandy brown hair, and brown eyes. Even his scar was almost invisible. If he hadn't been looking for it, he would have been hard pressed to notice. "Wow. I didn't know they taught that at Hogwarts."
She smiled. "They don't. Most girls learn a few glamour charms to avoid spending money on makeup, but illusions have always come easy to me. This was actually really easy. If I wanted to, I could make you look like a goblin. I even charmed a few walls to look like doors at Hogwarts just to see how many people would try to get in them. I stopped once a couple of seventh years were looking for a broom closet and decided if they couldn't get in they just couldn't wait. That was far more than I ever wanted to see. But between my illusions, runes, and arithmancy, I can make most things look like just about anything." Another wave of her wand and the illusions were cancelled. "I'll meet you here tomorrow and tell you what I've been able to work out with my parents. They might want to meet you, but I think that can wait until after we get you properly clothed. Now if you would be so kind as to leave, I actually do want to try on these dresses." She said gesturing to the long forgotten (to Harry anyway) garments that had been set aside upon entering. "Thank you for being so understanding, I'm really sorry for all the things I've said and done to you and your friends over the years. I will try and make it up to you."
Harry nodded. "Well, you may have convinced me, but you'll still need to explain things to Hermione when she finds out. As for Ron, well… All I can say is good luck. He hates Slytherins, and despises Malfoy. As for me, I'll hold up my end of the bargain as long as you hold up yours." He threw his cloak back on and vanished from sight, and with a quick "good bye" he left to continue to Gringotts, now with a few more questions to consider.
Upon arriving at Gringotts, he once again stuffed his cloak into his pocket. Fortunately for him, all of the other witches and wizards in the bank were too busy to even notice him. Once he arrived at the counter he waited for the goblin to address him, remembering something from his History of Magic notes, or rather Hermione's notes, which said Gringotts goblins were always busy, and interrupting them would never be of any help in one's ventures. Finally the goblin looked up and said "Welcome to Gringotts young sir. How may I be of assistance to you?"
"Um, I actually have a few questions, and then I want to make a small withdrawal from my vault." The goblin appeared to be waiting for the questions so Harry continued. "I was wondering if it might be possible for me to hide a family, whether it is by adding additional wards to their house, or if I have any properties, one of my own."
The goblin thought it odd that a child be asking such questions, but then one didn't normally ask these questions to a goblin without a means to follow up on the answers. "Name please?"
"Harry Potter," said Harry quietly. At this the goblin was truly confused. It was documented that Harry Potter had only rarely been to Gringotts personally. Usually he sent the Weasleys in his stead. "Do you have your key sir?" At this Harry shook his head. Mrs. Weasley had his key so she could go shopping for him last year. The goblin frowned and said, "We shall need a blood sample for verification. Your key will be returned to you and then we will be able to answer your other questions. "I am called Gnarlfang. Follow me." Gnarlfang stepped out from behind the counter and led Harry into a private room. Gnarlfang then pulled out a very painful looking knife with the promise that it wouldn't hurt too much. Harry was therefore astonished that in fact it barely hurt at all. He barely saw the knife fly across the tip of his finger, drawing a drop of blood. If he hadn't actually seen the drop, he would have been sure that Gnarlfang missed. The drop fell onto a piece of parchment placed on the desk, and soon written in blood was "Harry James Potter". Harry was intrigued by the cut that had already been healed, and wondered just how the goblins made those things. Gnarlfang put the knife away, and then began rummaging through a cabinet. Moments later, he pulled a fairly thick file out and laid it on the desk, then sat down. Harry followed suit while Gnarlfang perused the documents.
"Well it seems to me, Mr. Potter, that you do indeed have the money required to add special wards to a house of your choosing. Or possibly an island. Though much of this money you will not be able to access until you become a legal adult in the eyes of goblin law which is fifteen years of age, the gold you have access to now would be sufficient to purchase and ward nearly any house you wish. It seems as though your businesses have been very profitable in recent years. I have compiled a list for you to go through at your convenience." He handed over some of the papers to Harry who took them with a growing look of confusion.
"I have that much money? I own businesses? Why wasn't I ever told about these things?"
Gnarlfang replied, "All bank statements are typically sent to the vault owners. In the case of a minor, they are sent to their guardians." Harry's face paled at the thought of the Dursleys finding out about his money. "However, in your case, your guardian was in prison, and is now a wanted man by your ministry. We at Gringotts are aware that young Sirius Black never received a trial, and because of that we take no action that could result in his capture. In these events, your statements are sent to Albus Dumbledore. While he should be showing them to you, he is not required to do so. Upon your fifteenth birthday, and the last day of every month after then, we will send them directly to you. We do not use owls because they are too easily intercepted and tampered with. You will receive a folder in which it will appear for you and anyone whom you specifically allow." Harry was relieved upon hearing this, but rather annoyed that Dumbledore hadn't thought to tell him all this. Not that he knew what he would have done anyway, but shouldn't he have a right to know what was his?
"Is there anything else Gringotts can do for you today sir?"
Harry nodded, "Yeah, I wanted to make a withdrawal."
Gnarlfang gave a toothy grin revealing where his name was derived. "For you we have a special offer. Many of our wealthier clients use this, and we believe you might appreciate it as well." He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a black bag with gold trim. "This is a Gringotts bag. When you wish to withdraw an amount, simply grasp the bag and think of the amount you would like, and if it is available, it will appear in the bag. Likewise, if you wish to make a deposit, simply place the money in the bag and it will be transported to your vault. There are conditions however. You are not permitted to withdraw more than five-thousand galleons in this manner, or five percent of your account's value, whichever is lower. The stores themselves will have the means to deal with such large transactions. Also, the bag is keyed to you and you only. If stolen, it will return to Gringotts for you to reclaim. This service is five galleons initially, and one galleon a month after that. Is this acceptable Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded. "Very well. The amount will be deducted automatically from your vault on the first of every month until you choose to discontinue it. Gringotts thanks you for your patronage."
Harry replied, "And thank you also, Gnarlfang. You've been most helpful. I may be back later to follow up on those wards though." With that, Harry was escorted out of the office. Upon realizing that several hours had passed (with a forceful reminder from his stomach) he stopped for a quick bite in the Leaky Cauldron. A galleon to Tom even allowed Harry to eat without having his presence announced to the entire pub. All in all, it was shaping up to be an interesting summer. The trip back to Little Winging was just as bumpy as he remembered. He slipped invisibly past his guard to the back of the house and was surprised to find the door was still unlocked. Once he was back in his room though, he turned to Hedwig. "This summer is already getting weird girl."
As he reviewed the paperwork given to him at Gringotts, harry found that his bank vault was worth just over three hundred-thousand galleons. Upon attaining the age of fifteen he would inherit his parents' vault worth over twelve million galleons. On top of all that, he owned a a small portion of many of the stores in Diagon Alley, a couple in Knockturn Alley, and stores in other countries he had never been to. Owning part of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor explained why he was given free ice cream whenever he went. He also had part of Cleansweep brooms, which supplied many of the school brooms, and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? Fred and George had given him a third of their shop! He would have to tell them to keep the money, all he wanted was a few laughs. After reading much of his list, Harry returned to the land of sleep again, where his nightmares returned with a vengeance. It would be a long night for the Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry was rudely wakened by that pesky force known as gravity as he thrashed his way out of his bed in an attempt to escape yet another nightmare in which Voldemort attempted to kill him. While grateful that the abrupt stop saved him from his horrific dreams, he wished it wasn't so uncomfortable. A glance at the clock revealed it to be a bit past four in the morning. With nothing to do for an hour he simply crawled back into his bed and once again stared at the ceiling, reflecting upon the events of the previous day, as well as the events to come in the evening. He still wasn't completely sure if he could trust Pansy, but she was ready to take an oath that she was serious. She had said something about the Daily Prophet calling him crazy, but none of the front pages had any information at all on them. He picked one up and opened it, and was soon incensed at the things he saw. How could they deny the truth? Why was Dumbledore not telling everyone the truth? Why was he stuck in this house once again, with no news from his friends? He had gained more information from a chance meeting with someone he had recently thought was opposed to him than his own friends and headmaster. Things just weren't sitting right with him. The offer of training intrigued him. Moody was a legendary auror, and if this Leo guy had trained him, then he must clearly know his business. If he did hide the Parkinson family, maybe he could ensure that they wouldn't go over to Voldemort's side as well. He still didn't know exactly how he could do any of that, but was pretty sure that between the goblins at Gringotts and the Parkinsons themselves, they could come to an arrangement. As his thoughts turned to Pansy, he wondered why she looked different from just a few days ago in school. She claimed to be talented with illusions, so which face was real? The one that Malfoy could hardly stand, or the more attractive face that she had faced Harry with? Was either of them real? Harry suspected that if she had displayed this new face for Malfoy that he might fawn over her as much as she did him.
Shortly before six he walked quietly to the kitchen to once again cook breakfast for his uncle. Once again, the scent of breakfast drew the largest Dursley like a moth to a flame. On this morning he simply chose to eat in silence, which suited Harry just fine. After several plates of food had been inhaled, Harry ate and retreated to his room to prepare for the new day.
At two o' clock he left for Diagon Alley again, with the invisible guard none the wiser. Harry found himself wishing that magical transport could be less uncomfortable, especially after several minutes of being tossed around on the bus. Fortunately he hadn't ordered the coffee that seemed to arrive in the other riders' laps. His stop came and a very relieved Harry stepped off the bus and cloaked himself. This time he made sure to be even more careful not to run into anyone, or let someone hit him. After a bit of window shopping he waited for Pansy to arrive at T&T's. Upon her arrival, Harry couldn't resist tapping her shoulder, both to show that he was there, and to see how high she jumped. He was disappointed when she merely looked surprised. Once more she browsed the store. Harry saw her smirk as she entered a section of the store he had ignored last time, lingerie.
When she made her way to the changing room she whispered, "Well come on." He followed her lead and tried to ignore the small collection of undergarments so casually laid aside while removing his cloak. "My parents wish to meet you, but they seemed ready to take any option that wouldn't lead to supporting You-Know-Who. They've already put in several calls to people who owe them favors. Leo has agreed to teach you if you show him enough promise, and we're pretty sure we can emancipate you if you want to. That way you wouldn't have to worry about your relatives legal claims to your money. We'd have to do it by goblin law however. That means it'll be most of two months before we can get it done. These are for you." She handed him a key and a ring. "The key is a specialized auror portkey. It will record any and all wards that it passes through without tripping any alarms. The ring is a two way portkey with one fixed destination. Both are set to arrive in our front yard, but if you use the ring from there it will take you back to wherever you activated it from to get there. To use them, simply tap it with your wand twice. Use the key first, that way we can decide how to get you back home. That is, if you want to. Do you mind coming over for dinner?"
"I suppose I could do that, but only if I don't have to explain to your parents that we were making use of the privacy of these changing rooms," Harry said with a sly grin. This earned him a small blush and a glare.
"Don't get any ideas Potter. We're here for two things. Business and shopping. You will not be meeting my parents in those. The rest of our business can be discussed with my parents, so that brings us to the shopping." Harry frowned.
"Where will I put my cloak? I'm not just going to leave it somewhere. I'll need a disguise too; I don't want anyone to make a fuss about where I am."
Pansy pulled cast the same illusion on him as the day before. "I could hold onto it while we dress you up." A grin spread across her face. "It would be so much fun to tell everyone I got to dress Harry Potter." Harry scowled, getting a laugh from Pansy. "Come on, we need to get you looking proper."
The two went back into the main store. A clerk saw the two of them exit the small room and smirked to herself. It was hardly the first time a young couple had used those rooms for a bit of fun. Normally she would say something, but the young girl was a good patron, and the clerk was paid on commission. She watched as the boy was lead around the store, and nearly began drooling as the amount of clothes they had set aside grew. The boy seemed rather annoyed at taking so long to shop, but experience told her that he genuinely appreciated the effort. It took a supreme concentration not to cheer or jump for joy as a large mound of clothing was inventoried for them, muggle style clothes and robes alike. She was shocked as the boy pulled out a familiar looking black and gold bag to pay for the clothes. It was hard to believe he could have that kind of money and come into this store wearing rags. The clerk shrunk the clothes and bagged them up, with instructions on how to unshrink them without a wand. The bags were specially made just in case any wealthy muggle born children came here to shop. After the couple left, she did a little jig for all the money she had just made.
Pansy concealed her grin. She could tell Harry had almost enjoyed that trip, and was sure he liked the idea of having real clothes that almost fit. He had insisted on slightly baggy clothing from having worn his cousin's clothes for so long. Hogwarts robes weren't constricting either, so wearing anything that fit his form just felt too tight. She had to admit that he would look much better once he was wearing them. "Here's your cloak. Dinner is at seven, but my parents want you to arrive early so we can discuss things properly before we eat."
"Not that I'm complaining, but why exactly are you inviting me to dinner?"
"It's traditional for families planning an alliance to do so over a meal. Dinner just happens to be the next convenient time. It would be rude for us to discuss these things at your relatives' house. Arrive at six thirty, and wear the grey suit. Dad will love it." With that she gave a wave and walked off.
It was nearing six thirty and Harry had finally managed to put on the suit. He hadn't had to wear one before and found them to be very uncomfortable. If only he could get his hair to lay flat he thought he might look somewhat professional, but he felt very nervous. He had never made these kinds of choices before. He was about to activate his portkey when it occurred to him that this could still be a trap. He pulled on his invisibility cloak once more, and brought along a small bag he had picked up earlier that would hold much more than it should. He placed the ring portkey in his pocket, then activated the key from his bedroom. A nauseatingly familiar tug behind his navel signified that the portkey worked, and soon he landed hard on a lawn that would have made his uncle cry for the beauty of it. Or at least cry that it wasn't in his own yard. His landing alerted the house elf waiting for him, but his cloak still hid him from view. "Who is being there? Is Mister Harry Potter here? Or is Slinky hearing strange thumps and bumps?"
Harry stood up and brushed himself off before pulling off the cloak, surprising the elf in the process. "I'm here; I just didn't want to get caught in a trap if I could help it."
Slinky recovered quickly and smiled. "No worries Mister Harry Potter, Slinky was waiting to show you into the manor. Please follow Slinky." With that the diminutive creature bounded along the path to a mansion that appeared to be larger than a quidditch pitch. Harry was led into a foyer bigger than his uncle's house where Pansy and a woman whom Harry assumed was her mother were waiting for him. The older woman who was slightly taller than Pansy, but otherwise looked very similar to her, smiled and said, "Welcome to Parkinson manor, Mr. Potter. My name is Rose. I trust you already know my daughter Pansy?"
"Yes Ma'am. I haven't talked to her much before yesterday though." Harry hoped he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt.
"I see. We were quite surprised when she came to us with her plan to request your help. However, she says that you can follow through on your promises, and so that brings us to this discussion. Please, have a seat."
Harry was much more relaxed after his meeting with the Parkinsons. To be more specific, he was more relaxed about being with the Parkinsons. He had learned some things that confused him. When Rose, Pansy's mother, had done a diagnostic of the wards on his home as recorded by the portkey, she had determined that the only wards remaining were basic alarms. It seemed that anyone bearing a dark mark coming within a mile of his house would trip an alarm, but the alarm would be sent to an external source. Harry had suggested Dumbledore as the likely recipient, as it was he who insisted Harry return there every year. There was a magic residue of another ward that had failed years ago, but it was unlike any ward she had ever seen before. It turned out that Mrs. Parkinson was a consultant for Gringotts warders and cursebreakers. She hadn't earned the right NEWT's to become one, but she was more competent in the theory than many of their experienced workers. None of them could understand why Harry was left so vulnerable, or why the wards were so weak that any magic he cast could be tracked. David Parkinson, who had walked in while Rose explained the ward, had thought that Harry would be heavily warded so he could practice magic at home. It had led to an interesting conversation about how underage magic was tracked.
Rose explained, "Whenever magic is used, there is a measurable surge in magic activity in that area. The ministry records magical activity all over Britain. Sometimes magic congregates in an area naturally, so any magic not cast by a wand is ignored by the sensors. Magic cast by a registered wand is recorded and if the caster is underage, an official notice of the caster, the spell, and the location is sent to the Improper Use of Magic office for them to decide if anything needs to be done. Unforgiveable curses are recorded the same way."
"Why only the unforgiveable curses? Why not some of the other dark curses?" Harry asked.
"Well, it costs about five galleons to enchant a wand to trip the sensors, and another five to record specific spells. That's why wands are so expensive."
Harry looked puzzled. "When I bought my wand, Ollivander only charged me seven galleons."
Rose nodded. "He does that every now and then when he feels so inclined. Usually for a customer that he has to try harder to match than most, or when he feels someone needs what little help he can give. Not all wands are the same price anyway. Most of them run about thirty galleons; some of them can hit sixty. Not that it matters. Most people only ever need one wand. If a wand is passed down, it needs to be registered with the ministry so they know. The system breaks down a bit if a wand is lost or stolen, but with the people who follow the laws, it works. In homes with any decent wards, it's far more difficult to track magic. They can still track the unforgiveable curses because that information is sent straight to the ministry, but it can't track children practicing for the summer."
Harry thought it was unfair to the muggle born and muggle raised children that simply because their homes were often not warded that they would be caught for using underage magic. When he asked about using an unregistered wand, David explained that the sale or use of an unlicensed wand was illegal and punishable by a moderate fine. However, the use of an unregistered wand in committing a crime automatically doubled any penalties associated with said crime.
David Parkinson, a man who looked so ordinary that it was difficult to remember exactly what he looked like even while looking at him, was a successful lawyer in both the muggle and magical world. The easiest thing about him to remember was his eyes. They looked as though they could see directly into your soul. In truth, that was the secret to his success. He was a natural legilimens. He never studied how to use it, but he could easily determine when most people were hiding something, or telling him everything. He was quite certain that given the evidence of Harry's past treatment that it would be relatively simple to emancipate him as well as declare him head of house Potter. He also informed Harry that Leo had agreed to offer training beginning Monday of the next week. In return for these favors, Harry was to provide what protections he could to the Parkinsons' home and to Pansy while she was at school. He noticed the annoyed look that crossed Pansy's face when he mentioned protecting her, as though she really would prefer not needing protection at all, but David could sense that when Harry gave his word to do his best that he truly meant it. It was refreshing for the man to see such honesty when normally he worked with (or against at any rate) people who seemed to have little concept of truth.
"Harry," the man spoke up as Harry was about to leave for the dining room where dinner would be served shortly.
Harry turned and looked back at David. "Yes sir?"
He paused, organizing his thoughts before putting them to voice. "I don't wish to cause you any discomfort, nor do I want to impose on you or your relatives, but with you providing wards for us, and not having any for yourself…" He trailed off, "I suppose what I'm asking is, would you and your family be okay with you staying here for the summer?"
Harry was shocked. This was yet another unexpected turn of events. The thought of leaving the Dursleys so soon was quite enticing, but it seemed too good to be true. "Might I ask why sir?"
"It wouldn't make sense for you to provide us with wards while letting you live without them. I would understand if you want to stay with your relatives, but I would prefer you to be safe. You can't protect us from You-Know-Who if you're killed in your bed."
Harry quickly agreed, and the two of them went to dinner, joining the Parkinson women who were waiting for them.
Harry lay in his bed still slightly in shock. Tomorrow morning he could finally tell Vernon that he wouldn't be back. He was more than a little unnerved about how he was living in a house that was almost completely unprotected from the people who wanted Harry dead. To be honest, he was also a little unnerved about the variety of wards the goblins offered. Harry and David had travelled to Gringotts after the meal concluded. Harry allowed Mr. Parkinson to select any of the wards he wished, and soon felt very sorry for the poor soul who attempted to break into the manor. There were common wards that controlled apparition access, forcing people keyed into the wards to apparate into a specific spot in the front yard, and people who weren't keyed in would be shunted fifty miles in a random direction. The truly unlucky would find themselves attempting to swim to shore. Portkeys worked in a similar manner, though any portkey created by David would be able to pass through unaffected. For intruders walking up the road, there was a verbal warning, a mild stinging ward, a strong electrical surge, and a host of other unpleasant things before the wards turned lethal. The goblins assured the two that the work could be finished within two weeks, with as much internal security as necessary.
What laid most heavily on Harry's mind that night was not his safety with the Dursleys or the Parkinsons, but his training with the man he had only heard referred to as Leo. They rarely spoke of him, and only did so with respect and a slight hint of fear. While Harry had never met the real Mad Eye Moody, Barty Crouch Jr. must have done a passable job at imitating him if he had fooled so many people for a year. If Moody was a legend, and Leo was his trainer, why was his name only spoken in hushed tones, if it had to be spoken at all? Harry had been faced with several unexpected changes in a very short time, and it was this one that he feared and anticipated the most. His own training with Hermione had been fairly narrow during the previous year. It had helped, but Harry was tired of relying on his fickle luck. Some might consider him lucky to survive these things, but Harry would have preferred not being involved in the first place. He glanced over at Hedwig perched in her cage with her head under her wing, snoozing after her hunt, then at all his worldly possessions packed away in his trunk in preparation for his departure the next day. He wouldn't be coming back here if he could help it, and he certainly wouldn't miss this place. With the thought of training to be a stronger wizard, the thoughts of avenging Cedric and the other innocents who died at Voldemort's hand, Harry finally slept through the night.
In the morning, Harry once again worked his culinary summoning spell otherwise known as breakfast. It wasn't long before the rumble on the steps could be heard and a groggy Vernon Dursley entered the kitchen intent on finding whatever it was that his nose was leading him to. Harry once again wondered idly if the chairs were magically fortified as his uncle sank into one to begin eating ravenously. He wasn't really sure what to say to the man, so he chose to be direct. "Uncle Vernon, I'm leaving again today. I'm not coming back this time."
This was only the third time Harry could recall seeing his uncle actually stop eating halfway through a meal. The first time was when one of Marge's dogs jumped onto his lap and Vernon had to remove it. The second time was during a news story in which a food poisoning scare was mentioned. He had stopped for the entirety of two seconds. This time, He had stopped and simply stared at Harry, causing him to flinch a bit under the scrutiny. "Good. I've had enough of you and your freakishness. You've been corrupting my Dudley for far too long. Good riddance I say."
"You should know then, that if you don't want any other, 'freaks' as you call us, to swarm this place, you shouldn't tell anyone that I'm gone. Keep pretending as though I'm here and you are continuing to ignore me. If no one knows I'm gone, no one will come looking." With that Harry turned around to see Dudley and his Aunt Petunia also going to the kitchen. It was clear that they had listened to the short exchange, but nobody said anything. It appeared as though all of them were quite pleased that it was Harry's last day living there.
Once in his bedroom he went to Hedwig and took her from her cage. "I'm going to live with the Parkinsons now. I don't know where that is, but I know that's never stopped you from finding me before. I'll be there waiting for you, ok?" She hooted then nibbled his finger affectionately. He watched her fly away until she was out of sight before gathering his trunk and her cage, then activated the other portkey he had been given. 'If wizards can make items that send us miles away almost instantly, how much harder can it be to make them set us upright when we land?' thought Harry grumpily as he brushed himself off from yet another hard landing. He would have much preferred riding his broom to get here if it weren't for all those pesky secrecy laws and people spying on him. Never mind the fact that he still didn't know exactly where this place was. In the end it didn't really matter he supposed. If he needed a quick escape the portkey would take him straight back to the Dursleys. If his absence was discovered, it would also likely take him to a waiting Dumbledore, or anyone he chose to send in his place. Still, So far Harry did not feel his trust was being misplaced. Really he was only nervous. His summers had always been with the Dursleys, or partially at the Weasleys, and one week had been with Mrs. Figg. This would be his first summer almost entirely away from one of those places. He could only hope that Pansy wasn't as insufferable at home as she was at school. A small pop shook him out of his reverie in time for him to see Slinky before he ran her over. "Slinky will be taking Mister Harry Potter's things to his room. Then Slinky will be showing Mister Harry Potter to his room. You be calling on Slinky if you be needing anything," she said before he could get a word in. It was only seconds before his luggage had entirely vanished (not that he had much) and he was again being led to the house by the tiny creature.
His room was a guest room on the second floor, painted in a shade of green not unlike his eyes, a fact which Slinky had pointed out as the reason this room was granted to him for the duration of his stay. He was permitted to explore the first floor and the basement, but he wasn't to enter a locked door or the third floor without permission. Slinky explained that the doors were only locked when someone desired privacy, and it was honored except in emergencies. The third floor, he was told, was for parties, balls, gatherings, or any other event that required a large amount of space. The second floor was mostly bedrooms, though the master bedroom was a suite, and all of them had their own bathrooms, something which he had never experienced before. The Dursleys had one bathroom for the master bedroom and one for everyone else, the Weasleys had one very busy bathroom, and Hogwarts was a school in which privacy was as difficult to find as all of the shortcuts it contained. The first floor was the living quarters, kitchen, sitting area, and nearly everything that wouldn't be found on the other floors. The basement was mostly a library, with a few rooms off to the side for studying or working. Harry saw that each of the Parkinsons had claimed one of the side rooms next to the library if the names carved into the doors were any clue. The library itself was enormous, and Harry wouldn't have been surprised to hear that it was magically expanded.
As he browsed through the library he couldn't help but notice the large collection of books on runes. There was also a healthy selection that seemed devoted to arithmancy, entire bookshelves devoted to muggle and wizard laws, and a selection of spellbooks that made the Hogwarts library seem pathetic, or terribly disorganized. Though Harry suspected that there were probably quite a few books in the restricted section that would have spells in them, these appeared to be accessible without a permission form. He was soon absorbed in a text detailing basic combat magic and strategies. As he read a theoretical section concerning the casting of the same spell repeatedly at the same target his attention was brought back to the world by the sound of frustrated muttering somewhere in the runes section. Intrigued, Harry walked over there to find an irritated Pansy looking through the shelves. When she picked up what she was looking for she turned and saw Harry, then growled, "What do you want Potter?"
"I heard, er, what's wrong?"
"I'm just trying to decipher an ancient book, and it's not going well. Only half of the runes make any sense, and I can't figure out anything about them. Grr! This is driving me mad! Mummy and I have been working on it for ages but nothing seems to fit when we try to translate it."
"Do you think I could help?"
She gave him a funny look. "I highly doubt it. You don't take runes, so how would you understand any of it?"
Harry simply shrugged; she had a good point. "Can I watch?"
She stared. Harry was proving to be weirder and weirder every second she saw him it seemed. "It's probably not that exciting to you. Just don't interrupt me while I'm reading."
Harry nodded and followed her into the room with her name on it. It looked something like the nests Hermione would build whenever she was working hard on something and not getting anywhere. The similarity was oddly disturbing to him. He caught sight of the book in the center which was clearly the book causing her so much grief. The writing was similar yet different to the other runes in the other books, yet oddly familiar somehow. The book itself had an aged red color to it, and was bound with gold thread. It also seemed to give off a faint aura of unnatural heat. The page she turned to had a rune on the top that was unlike any he had seen, not that he had seen that many.
"This looks a bit different than the runes I see Hermione translating at Hogwarts."
"This is very different from any other book of runes I've ever heard of, except for the rest in this set."
"Why is that?"
"Look at the runes more closely. Only the rune at the top and a few of the runes in the text are written the way we're taught to read them. That's because most of the runes anyone needs to read are magical runes, they have a specific function that changes if the rune changes. These are more like text, an actual language of runes. Some of them are hard to read without context, because they look like two or three other runes, and it's driving me mad. I'm almost certain this is an ancient spellbook, but there's too much I don't know about it to understand it."
"So you're saying that if you knew what spell it was, it would be easier to understand?"
"Probably, but this portion of the text refers to using ingredients for the spell, something that hasn't been in use since before Merlin. That's what makes it so interesting. What's more is that whoever wrote this book must have been legendary in his time."
"How would you know? I only hear about Merlin and the founders, and the founders only because we go to their school."
"The book has an aura. Only the most powerful wizards develop a noticeable aura, and whoever wrote this one was so powerful that their books do as well. This is the first volume so I thought it would have simpler spells, but like I said, I have no reference for what it discusses. That's why I'm looking through the rest of the library to find any of these other runes and what they mean."
Harry simply nodded at that and looked at the page she was working on. Now that she had mentioned it, it did appear as though it was written more to be read than to be used on its own. Sadly, this one textbook that Harry could barely even try to understand had already generated more interest about the history of magic than all of professor Binns' classes combined. Then again, sleep was important, and it was quite easy to nap during his class. The abandoned practice of using ingredients for spells he found particularly intriguing. Did they make the magic stronger? Did they make it easier to cast? Were they even necessary at all? Or were spells long ago comparable to rituals today? It seemed like a lot of work just to cast one spell, but then again there were a comparable number of pages to simple spells in modern school books. "What if the runes are like the theory behind the magic? An explanation of how to cast whatever spell it describes?"
"Oh please Potter. Do you really think that hadn't occurred to me yet? The way this is written, there are hundreds of translations for some of these passages. Now I'm pretty sure I can rule out dangling a fish over a baby while hopping around on one foot, but for all I know this is an obscure ritual. I'm trying to piece together enough of it to figure out what this is for, because from there I believe I can figure out how this is supposed to read. Now stop bothering me. This is hard enough without you constantly asking questions." Harry took that as his cue to leave, so he walked back into the main library to continue reading the book he had started earlier. It kept him occupied until Slinky appeared to invite him to dinner.
Dinner was a quiet affair, but when the food was cleared away there was chatter about what each had done during the day. Harry simply watched the family interact while he pretended he wasn't there, and was therefore quite startled to hear his name. David was asking if Harry was okay with Leo arriving to begin his training tomorrow. Harry agreed, though he was still nervous. He chose to retire early that night, and was relieved when nobody questioned him on the matter.
Hedwig fluttered in through the open window in his room and gave him a soft hoot of welcome. "Had a good flight then?" She gave another hoot and a friendly nip on the finger before he stroked her feathers. "I knew you would find me. I think you'll like this place better than the Dursleys." Another hoot came from the owl. "No I don't think I'll ever go back there." Another soft hoot. "No, not even to burn it down. I might phone in a missing child report there, see how that goes. I don't think they ever properly cleaned out my cupboard. Really I would prefer just never seeing them again." Hedwig hooted softly before flying to her perch. "Yeah. I'm going to rest now too. I don't really know what to expect tomorrow, so I might as well be well awake for it."
A/N: I write slowly and infrequently. I won't be updating this story quickly, but barring any unforeseen circumstances, I will finish it. If you see any mistakes or inconsistencies, please tell me about them.