Summary: Tired of all the pressures of the wizarding world, Harry flees to Australia, a place where he doesn't expect to find any wizards at all. However, his seemingly muggle escape is about to become magical in more ways than one… AU after OOTP, HP/OC, Possible Slash.
A/N: I just decided to combine the first two chapters, so sorry about the confusion. Please let me know if there is anything that doesn't make sense…
Dedication: Written for Alice, because she's oh-so-encouraging (she never gets off my case) of my writing.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the laptop I'm typing this on. If any parts of this story resemble anybody else's fanfic, I'm super sorry. I'm an avid reader, and I sometimes accidentally kidnap plot-bunnies.
Italics - Harry's thoughts, or any mental conversations (those will come later…oooh the suspense)
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The drive home from the train station was becoming more and more unpleasant, as the volume of both Vernon's yelling and the multitude of thoughts ricocheting around in Harry's head increased.
Sirius is dead. Sirius is really dead. And its all my fault… or is it?
Harry paused, a new idea striking him.
I wasn't the only one to blame. Ever since fourth year, I've known that Ron and Hermione are in constant contact with Dumbledore, reporting on my actions. They could have communicated with him… And if Dumbledore hadn't left me so completely in the dark all year, I would have known better. But how was I to know? When was I ever truly given the chance to make a decision for myself?
Another thought hit him.
Do I even want to fight this war? What is there that is worth fighting for? The wizarding world that is as blind as it is fickle? My betraying friends? The manipulative headmaster?
He snorted.
I think not. And besides, Trelawney is a total crackpot. Even if the prophesy is true, those things are so ambiguous that its entirely possible I've already fulfilled it. After all, Voldemort did die at my hands when I was a baby. It never said anything about killing him again…
Harry sighed.
Either way, I've got to get out of this place. But where to go? He pondered for a moment. Where can I go where no one will recognize me, and where I can escape from the annoyances of the wizarding world? I know there are several schools in Europe and the US, and I've heard of one in South America…but what about Australia? I've never really heard of anything magical there (A/N: I'm sure there's a reference somewhere about magic in Australia, but we are going to pretend that that either didn't happen, or Harry was too busy being all Harry-like to notice). Alright, he laughed to himself, Australia it is then.
Coming back to himself, Harry realized that Vernon had stopped yelling at him about what an abomination he was, and was now demanding his attention. "Boy! Are you listening to me, you worthless freak?!"
"No, actually I'm not." Vernon began to splutter in incoherent rage, and Harry gave pause to snicker before continuing, "And I don't think I'm going to listen to you ever again. Stop the car, because I'm getting out." Vernon was so shocked that he actually did it. Harry stepped out, slammed the door, and turned away. He walked away, not even glancing back.
Well, that was surprisingly easy. He thought to himself. But it was also foolish. What am I going to do now? He sat down on the dusty sidewalk and began to think, a plan already forming in his mind. If I'm going to disappear, I'll need supplies. So I suppose the real trick is just to get myself to Gringotts. But how to do that without getting caught by the Order… He stood, and slowly began to walk along the sidewalk, kicking a rock as he went. Obviously, I'm going to need some kind of disguise, but it can't be magical. I'm sure that's the first thing anyone who's looking for me will search for. Wonder where you can get muggle disguises?
Just then, Harry looked up from his thoughts to notice his location. He was on the outskirts of London, in a somewhat rural area. However, there were a few stores around…Market? Nah, nothing there. Restaurant? I highly doubt it. Second hand store? Perfect. I think I have a few pounds on me here somewhere…
A bell clanged dully as he entered the store. The musty scent of mold and mothballs assailed his nose, but he continued in, blinking at the sudden change in quality of light. Once his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, Harry began his search for appropriate clothes. In the end, he decided on a pair of heeled boots which would change his height, followed by a surprisingly wizard like hooded cloak. The owner of the shop looked at him curiously as he made his purchases, but Harry didn't care. He was finally making his own choices, instead of the ones always being forced upon him.
Thankfully, the clothes were relatively cheap, and Harry still had a few quid left to purchase a ticket at the local train depot, headed straight for London.
--
After what seemed like endless searching, Harry finally found the street of the entrance to Diagon Alley. London was way bigger than he'd ever realized…Harry quickly pulled on the boots and threw the cloak over his head before ducking into the Leaky Cauldron. He hurried himself along to Gringotts, not bothering to stop at any of the alley's many attractions. He walked through the double doors at Gringotts, and quickly stepped up to an empty teller, far away from any other customers.
"May I help you, sir?" The goblin said in a condescending tone. Harry lowered his hood. "Ah, Mr. Potter. I suppose you've come about our summons?"
"Excuse me sir, but what summons?" Harry replied in bewilderment.
"Why the one we sent you concerning your sixteenth birthday. It was attached to your monthly account statement."
"Statement? I've never received a statement?"
The goblins gaze darkened. "Don't play with me, Mr. Potter!"
"I'm not! I have never received one single piece of post from Gringotts Bank!"
The goblins demeanor softened slightly. "Interesting. Is there anyone you know who would intercept your mail?"
Harry started to reply that no, he did not know anyone who would do such a thing, before he reconsidered. "I do." Yet another thing Dumbledore has been hiding. I hate him more by the minute. He thought, thinking of Sirius. A wave of grief bore down on him again, but he pushed it to the side. He had more important things to do right now. The goblin was speaking again.
" … we'll have to take you to see your account manager, Luknuk. Follow me, Mr. Potter." He set off at a surprisingly fast pace, and Harry trailed behind, wondering when his simple plan became so complicated. They walked into a corridor in the back of the bank which Harry had never noticed before. The corridor opened up into a wide hall with many, many doors all around it. "This is the more private face of the bank, Mr. Potter, where all of the offices and meeting rooms are located. Luknuk's office is right through here."
Upon entering the office, Harry was surprised to see how comfortable it was, with potted plants and two rather plush chairs in front of a large oak desk. Behind the desk sat a very old looking goblin.
"Welcome Mr. Potter. Now what's this I hear about someone blocking your Gringotts post? Well, we'll just have to fix that. Actually, there are quite a few things we need to fix...from the sounds of things, I doubt you know about your parents will or the nature of your assets, do you?"
"My parents left a will?" Harry exclaimed in shock.
"Of course they did. After all, it was a very dangerous time. Here, I will give a copy to read in your spare time. At the moment, we need to deal with a few of the more important specifics. First of all, your guardians. The Potters left detailed instructions for who you should be sent to in the case of their death, listing a good ten different families. However, due to the dangerous nature of the time, Albus Dumbledore felt that you would be safest with your only blood relatives, and placed you accordingly, thus bypassing your parents wills. He also appointed himself as your magical guardian.
Meddling old coot! Harry thought to himself. "What does all this mean?"
"It means, young Mr. Potter, that Albus Dumbledore has been in charge of your financial assests, your education about the wizarding world, and any special safety measures which he sees fit."
"Why do you keep talking about my financial assets, sir? All I have is my trust fund…"
Luknuk growled, showing his formidable incisors. "Not true. When you turn 17, you legally inherit the Potter family vaults, and any other vaults which are shown to be yours by a heritage potion. Everyone takes the potion when they turn eleven. Everyone except you, that is. Dumbledore did not feel that it would be safe for you, and stopped us. He has also stopped me from meeting you every year since then. I have been trying to warn you about the wills, your moneys, and your heritage for a long time Mr. Potter."
Harry took several deep breaths, attempting to calm his intense rage. He needed to think clearly. Sirius had taught him that. "Alright then. Let's start from the beginning, shall we? With a heritage potion?"
"Certainly sir. Although, I should warn you in advance about several things. First, the potion will remove any blocks existing on your magic. Secondly, it is believed that there is creature heritage in the Potter line. The test will show if you have inherited any of that heritage. The reason I am telling you this is that that kind of heritage becomes activated shortly before your sixteenth birthday, which is when wizards receive their magical majority, after which they have a year before they come of age." Luknuk paused as another goblin entered the room. "Ah, here it is: the inheritance potion"
Next chapter: "Incubus?? What??" And "The 100,000 Galleon Shopping Spree"
