Exhausted from his trip, Harry had fallen asleep after flopping down on his bed for what he thought would be a quick rest and woken up the following morning to the sound of tapping on his window.
"M'tired Hedwig, come back later," he moans before realising what he is saying and sitting bolt upright with a wide grin, "Hedwig! You found me!", he shouts while scrambling to his feet and going over to fight with the old window catch until he can let Hedwig in. She immediately hops onto his shoulder and nuzzles his face with her own as he pets her gently, "Smart girl! I knew you would find me. Hang on, sit in your cage and I will get you something to eat."
The return of his faithful companion puts a spring in Harry's step and he feels content in his small room feeding her owl treats while realising that he has obviously managed to go his first night without being discovered. 'They might not even have noticed that I have gone yet' Harry ponders while putting some treats into Hedwig's food tray and giving her another pat before he heads over to his trunk and gathers some clean clothes to freshen up.
Checking his old battered watch, he notices it is still breakfast time and glances around his room again before slipping out and heading downstairs to get something to eat, offering a smile to Mrs Mason and a courteous nod to her other guest who Harry presumes is a businessman from the suit he is wearing.
"Morning dear, what can I get for you?" Mrs Mason asks before gesturing to the spread laid out behind her.
Harry takes a look and smiles again, "Just some toast would be great, and ah, some fresh orange juice please."
Mrs Mason nods and sets about putting some toast on behind her and Harry starts to think about his plans for the day. Money is first on his list and then a few books if he can get around Diagon Alley without attracting too much attention to himself. He needs books and knowledge and he needs it fast. Voldemort has had decades to learn about magic and Harry has had five years of schooling. It almost puts him off his breakfast just thinking about it. As he starts on his toast he briefly considers contacting Ron and Hermione and his chest constricts as he thinks about it a little more, 'I can't go to them' Harry thinks to himself, 'I don't know how close they are to Dumbledore. Hermione trusts him so blindly that she might tell him where I am and I can't go back to the Dursleys to get beaten up again and I need to prepare for this war! Ron can't keep anything from Hermione and I can't risk Mrs Weasley knowing. She just treats me like a kid all the time.'
No, if Harry wants to do what needs to be done, he realises, then he will have to do it alone. Finishing off his breakfast, he thanks Mrs Mason, gives the business man who is still sat reading his paper another wave and hurries back up to his room to access his things and write a list of what he needs to get a hold of. After fiddling with his ink and quill he decides a pad and paper might be a good start because it will be less hassle, and a heck of a lot tidier Harry thinks to himself while scowling as he notices the ink stain down the side of his hand.
"What do I need to think about Hedwig?" Harry asks his trusty companion who merely hoots softly at him, "I guess I did not really think a lot of this through did I? As usual. I need books, clothes, and information. Allies! I need to know what Voldemort is doing and I don't trust Dumbledore to tell me and I certainly don't trust Snape of all people," he mutters to himself on the bed, "It is too dangerous to get someone to teach me unless they are my allies and not Dumbledore's but I don't know where to start with working out who to trust anymore," he scoffs to Hedwig who blinks at him as he waves his quill about in front of him, "No, I need to study and teach myself to be a stronger wizard and keep Voldemort out of my head. There must be another way to learn it."
Hedwig's hoots snap Harry out of his stupor and he smiles to himself sheepishly as he realises he is rambling away to himself. It is helpful to the young wizard though because he feels he has a better idea of what he is going for as he grabs a hoody and pulls it on before shoving what is left of his muggle money into one pocket and his wizarding gold into the other.
"Wallet," Harry mutters to himself while ticking his wand into the front pocket of the hoody, "Definitely need a wallet." It strikes the young wizard as truly bizarre that wizards have come up with so many amazing things and yet haven't thought of paper money. It was so much easier than hauling around bags of gold all the time. He was aware that some wizards used a system similar to cheques if they were better off but really, what a fuss.
Shaking his head, he heads down the stairs of the B&B after double checking his door is locked and out into the city. The paranoia that he's about to be found at any moment settles back into his bones the moment he turns onto Leister Square which seems both a sensible reaction and a ridiculous one at the same time because he still doesn't even know if the Order realises he is gone. Clearly they had not been keeping a very close eye on him before, he thinks to himself darkly.
Still, every girl that Harry sees with pink hair is Tonks and any flash of red is a Weasley come to get him and drag him back to Dumbledore and Grimmauld Place and the memories of Sirius and how much he hated that place. Pulling the hood of Dudley's old jumper up and pulling the strings until he has covered as much of his face as he can, Harry shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look at the ground as much as possible while making his way towards the Leaky Cauldron.
He has definitely come too far to get caught now.
His anxiety heightens when he sees the old sign sticking out from beside a muggle music shop and it only gets worse as he steps into the pub itself. The place is heaving and Harry immediately recognises a few faces from school but he is lucky enough to get through to the back without anyone noticing him and slips into the Alley, as an older witch passes him with her granddaughter, without any trouble.
He keeps to the side of the Alley and as before tries to avoid looking up too much, using his skills from his childhood to navigate without being seen because it was safer then, and it feels ironic to be using those same skills to avoid the same man who had seemed like the key to escaping that life. The very man who keeps sending him back to it, the dull ache that still has not faded from his ribs reminds him. Gringotts looms large over the Alley and it is only when inside that Harry relaxes even a little. Goblins can't be trusted but they can't be bribed the same way wizards can and Harry feels safer in the bank than outside it. He doesn't recognise anyone inside the lobby but that doesn't mean a lot to him, not anymore, because anyone could be in the Order and any face could be masking Tonks.
Making his way swiftly to one of the counters, Harry slips his key onto the counter and mutters, "I need to see Griphook, please."
If the goblin making notes behind the counter is shocked to realise Harry knows another goblin's name he doesn't show it, merely nods and climbs down from his chair and heads off down the aisle before disappearing into another room and reappearing with another goblin a second later.
"You wished to see me, Mr Potter?" Griphook asks with a curious stare.
"Yes, you were the goblin that took me to my vault the first time I came here. I'd like you to take me again. I like dealing with the same uh, beings each time I go somewhere," Harry answers, sure by the look of respect he gains from the goblin that not referring to him as a lesser being just earned him some brownie points. Tucking away that piece of information Harry hopes it might just come in handy later.
" Right away sir, follow me," Griphook rumbles, leading Harry towards the carts to take him to his vault. Clambering in, Harry grins, receiving a strange look from the goblin, "One of those wizards that likes to fly I presume," Griphook asks, receiving an enthusiastic nod in reply, "Strange beings you lot are. There is no gold hidden in the sky."
Harry smiles again, thinking of the freedom he feels in the air, "That depends on what your treasure is."
Griphook does not reply, just starts the cart hurtling off down into the bowels of the bank. Harry feels a burst of adrenaline as the cart reaches its top speed, laughs to himself as he feels his hair being blow backwards, his clothes flapping as the hurtle around a corner. He is disappointed when it stops and is still laughing softly as he clambers out of the cart and watches Griphook amble towards his vault door with a lantern.
With nothing better to do as he waits, Harry gazes around at his surroundings and shudders. As far as he can see there is just darkness and an eerie quiet. It is like the cart's tracks disappear into nothingness and his stomach does an unpleasant flip at the idea of being stuck down in the bowels of Gringotts because he had tried to steal something. You would have to be mad he thinks to himself while rocking back on his heels and suddenly understanding a lot better why people had been so shocked to learn that someone had risked it in his first year.
"Mr Potter," Griphook growls snapping Harry out his stupor and making him jump slightly.
"Sorry," Harry mutters before heading into his vault and pulling out his coin sack and shoving as many as he can in.
"Mr Potter, it is our understanding at Gringotts that your magical guardian Sirius Black is now deceased, is that correct?" Griphook suddenly asks, making Harry flinch and then pause with a handful of sickles in his hand.
"Um, yes?" Harry replies carefully, "Why does that matter to the bank?"
"As you have been informed this means that you are now in charge of your finances, because as Mr Black detailed in his will, the reading of which you failed to attend, that you were to be emancipated upon his death. It is my duty as the first member of the bank to deal with your finances since then to enquire as to whether you wish the contents of this trust vault to be added to the main Potter vault or whether you wish for your affairs to be left in their current condition?"
Harry drops the bag of gold he is holding and feels his knees weaken, moving to sit on the cold stone floor as he stares at Griphook in complete shock, "I've been what? Sirius had a will reading? I...I have another vault? I...have no idea what in Merlin's name you are talking about. I am not aware of...well any of this."
To Harry, Griphook looks as shocked as a goblin can and tilts his head before slowly asking, "We informed you of the financial details and of the reading of the will in the letter we sent to you after Mr Black's death."
"I...I never got any letters," Harry states hollowly, "I've never had any letters from Gringotts at all."
"Curious and most unfortunate," Griphook replies calmly, "Mr Potter, if you finish your business here, I will take you up to my office and explain things further. It seems I need to explain a great many things to you and check some records on your finances."
"Er, right, sure," Harry mumbles, slowly getting to his feet and continuing to gather some money before heading back to the cart and placing his head in his hands as Griphook locks up his vault. Another vault, emancipation, his own godfather's will reading! What else was Albus ruddy Dumbledore hiding from him? In that moment, Harry is not entirely sure he even wants to know. Hiding this sort of thing was not about safety; it could only be about control. 'I am the weapon' Harry thinks to himself gloomily as they reach the surface again, 'I'm the weapon that needs to be carefully taken control of so I don't blow up in his face'
Griphook leads him from the cart but instead of taking him back into the main hall of the bank he leads Harry down another cavern the teenager had never noticed before, taking him through a door that leads to a corridor of doors which Harry realises must be the offices Griphook was talking about before. The goblin leads him about halfway down and then presses his finger to one of the doors which Harry then hears click several times before creaking open. Griphook gestures for Harry to enter and the boy does so with the goblin following behind, taken aback by how normal it looks and the way it is no different from the bank offices Harry had seen in shows on his aunt and uncle's TV as a child. Griphook requests that Harry make himself comfortable while he fetches the relevant paperwork before disappearing into another room and Harry takes a seat and waits quietly until Griphook returns and places a file on his desk.
"Mr Potter, Gringotts has been sending you bank statements of your various vaults every year on your birthday for the past five years. Am I correct in believing you have failed to receive any of them?" Griphook begins, his words slow and deliberate as he peers over the desk at Harry who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"Yes, that is right," Harry mutters.
"Interesting. Am I also correct in thinking that you did not receive the summons to the will reading of one Sirius Orion Black?"
"Correct," Harry nods, wondering where this is all going.
"Mr Potter, please may I inspect you using my magic? A goblin doesn't need to wield a wand, which is just as well as your Ministry doesn't believe us smart enough to do so, and I wish to test a hunch I have. I believe that you have been placed under some form of enchantment that is preventing you from receiving your mail. If you allow me to inspect you, I can clarify this hunch," Griphook asks, tilting his head and holding his hands out to gesture that he truly means Harry no harm.
Harry feels his stomach turn uncomfortably and he stares at Griphook with wide eyes as he thinks things over. No he hadn't ever had any mail from the bank and come to think of it, when at school certainly he hardly got any mail at all! He was supposed to be famous and yet he never received any letters or Merlin help him, fan mail he thought with a shudder. Now that he was forced to think about it, that didn't make any sense. Noticing Griphook is still looking at him and waiting expectantly Harry nods, not feeling he has too much to lose by this point and Griphook is the first being to be truthful with him in a while.
"Sure, go ahead. I want to know the truth," Harry says with a defiant nod. Griphook returns the nod and waves his hand across Harry's face, closing his eyes for a few seconds and when he opens them he raises an eyebrow.
"It would seem Mr Potter that my assumptions were in fact correct," Griphook states without the slightest of sympathy for the boy who slumps visibly in his chair looking devastated at the news, "If you wish, I can remove said enchantment though, as the boy-who-lived in the wizarding world, I suspect this may lead to an increase in your mail."
At that Harry gives an undignified snort, " That would be an understatement but I would rather know the truth so yeah please take it off," Harry requests while making a mental note to call on Dobby when he gets out of the bank. If he is going to have a lot of mail, he had better get someone on board to deal with it all.
Griphook nods once more and closes his eyes again, waving his hand around several times as Harry feels a chill go through him before the goblin nods.
"It has been done," Griphook states, not giving Harry a chance to thank him before carrying on, " As you missed the reading of your godfather's will, I have created a copy for you to see now."
Harry takes the offered paper with dread, not wanting to look at it because it means Sirius really is dead and he has to let go of his hopes that it is just a terrible mistake and he is going to come back to him. His stomach churns and he feels a lump in his throat as he reads over the specifics, noting that the Black family home now belongs to him along with Kreature and another property in France. The thought of owning Kreature, one of the reasons that Sirius is dead, makes Harry feel physically sick. Noticing the sheer amount of gold he has inherited Harry's eyes widen. It is not a fortune but it is not a bad sum either. Nodding to himself and taking a deep breath, Harry places the paper back on the desk and looks back to Griphook.
"Here are copies of your latest bank statements," Griphook says, pushing another few papers forward and waving his hand at the copy of the will, which promptly disappears, "Is there anything else you require Mr Potter while you read over them?"
"Oh, yeah, I want to change some gold into muggle money please, and I want one of those cheque book things wizards use so I don't have to carry so much around," Harry replies brightly, digging in his pocket for his gold sack and tipping a decent amount of it onto the counter.
"Yes Sir," Griphook murmurs while gathering up the gold and bustling out of the office, leaving Harry to look over his papers.
The first thing he notices is the other Potter vault that Griphook had mentioned before. It contains enough gold to allow Harry to live a comfortable if not extravagant lifestyle without working if his calculations are correct and it makes his blood boil and magic crackle around him to think about yet another thing Dumbledore had hid from him for no reason. Added to the Black family fortune, Harry had enough money to disappear and live a quiet life!
His heart sinks. So that was the reason Dumbledore tried to hide his inheritance from Sirius and his parents from him; so that he couldn't run away. Maybe if the man had just been honest with Harry from the start he would have no need to worry about that the young wizard thinks savagely. It does make Harry feel more secure though because now he can get what he needs without worrying about funding things so much and really if he makes it to the end of the war he will be happy to work for a living and not have a knut of his savings left because he used it to do something worthwhile. It is not like he can take it with him to the other side if it comes down to that.
Griphook returns and places a pile of crisp new notes on his desk along with a small leather bound books which Harry picks up to inspect, finding it to be the cheque book he was looking for. Griphook promptly shows Harry how to use it and Harry shoves his money into various pockets before turning expectantly back to the Goblin.
"From now on Mr Potter, you will receive a bank statement every quarter from the bank and should you choose to make any investments with your gold then Gringotts will send you information as and when required. If you do require any further aid you can send an owl to the bank and we will do our utmost to help," Griphook rumbles and Harry nods happily, glad to be treated like the young adult he is becoming for once.
"Thank you Griphook. I think that is everything for now," Harry replies, rising to his feet and reaching out to shake the goblins hand.
Griphook stares at him in shock for a moment before taking it and laughing, a strange grumbling noise in the back of his throat that startles Harry, "You are a strange wizard, Mr Potter. It is rare that one of your kind should treat one of mine as an equal."
A dark look crosses Harry's faces as he straightens up and pulls the hood back up over his head before replying, "I have spent too many years being treated like a lesser being by my own family. It isn't a feeling I would inflict on anyone else, especially when there is absolutely no reason for it."
"Strange wizard indeed," Griphook mumbles while leading him from the room, down the corridor past several statues of goblins with pickaxes raised high above their heads, and back into the main foyer of the bank, "Good day to you."
Harry offers him a half smile, grateful the goblin had not used his name, and hurries down the side of the foyer, so focussed on hurrying that he doesn't notice Fleur Delacour until he's knocked her to the floor,
"I am so sorry!" Harry stutters, rushing to help her up, watching her eyes widen as she realises who has knocked her and her paperwork to the ground and pleading with her silently not to say anything too loud.
"Arry?! What are you doing 'ere?" Fleur whispers while steadying herself on her feet.
"Getting my life back," Harry mutters, nervously glancing around.
"From Dumbledore oui?" Fleur asks quietly and Harry looks at her sharply, "Ee is a very strange man, 'Arry. I do not trust 'im. Ee ask me to join 'is group non? I say non. Power corrupts 'Arry Potter. Remember zat."
Harry's eyes widen, stomach flipping at Fleur's words, "You didn't join?"
Fleur shakes her head, her beautiful blond hair swinging around her shoulders, "Non. There are more ways to fight ze Dark Lord than with Dumbledore. It is not 'im who has fought 'im these past years. Is you 'Arry."
Fleur looks defiant, starting deep into Harry's eyes and he is suddenly remembered why she was a Tri-Wizard champion. The goblet only picked the best of the best.
"Look, Fleur, I don't want anyone to know I was here I need to...look, I'm..."
Fleur tilts her head and reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, "I did not see you 'ere. Vous n'avez qu'une chance de vivre non?," and seeing Harry's confused look she smiles and removes her hand, "You only get one chance to live. Do what you need to do and if you ever need anything, I am 'ere for you. You, not 'im," and with that Fleur glances around and continues on her way towards the door Harry had just come out of.
Nodding, Harry slips, out of the bank and back into the alley.
He immediately feels less secure and quickly makes his way towards the book shop, Flourish and Blotts, ducking inside and hurrying towards the Defence section before he realises he has been holding his breath. Puffing out his cheeks he carefully looks around and is relieved to realise he doesn't recognise anyone. Feeling a little calmer he starts to look through the shelves, flicking through various books on both offensive and defensive magic before picking up one of each and moving to the Charms section, repeating his search in the Transfiguration section before moving towards the section entitled 'Magic of the Mind'.
Many titles stand out at first glance and Harry knows that if he starts to look through them he will end up stuck there all day and probably get discovered and ruin everything so instead focuses completely on finding what he is looking for. Books on occlumency. 'Maybe if I had tried harder at this stuff, Sirius would still be alive' Harry thinks to himself bitterly while leafing through the pages of a heavy tomb on the subject. There is no way he will let Severus Snape teach him again but it is something he begrudgingly realises he should know, even if he has to spend loads of time teaching himself how to do it. No one else was going to die because he couldn't tell the difference between dreams and reality.
Harry has never really been able to tell what a good book is and what isn't and he certainly doesn't want to bring attention to himself by asking the shopkeeper so he takes a chance and picks up one of the middle-sized volumes before heading to the counter and setting them down. He waits patiently to be noticed rather than calling out and carefully avoids looking the middle aged witch in the eye for fear of being recognised. If the woman thinks anything of the type of books Harry is purchasing then she doesn't mention it and he is grateful to hand over his money and get on his way.
He navigates the alley as quickly as he can, picking up various supplies, before leaving and returning to muggle London, instantly feeling more relaxed as he blends in to the crowds of people. Harry winds his way through the throngs of people, taking more of it in this time now that he isn't pulling his trunk and a huge cage along with him, and enjoying the scenery and the atmosphere. Everything seems so vibrant, very literally a world away from what he is used to. He passes street artists miming in the street, posing as artists, buskers and dancers just moving around the streets surrounding Leister Square and when he heads into a small local corner short to pick up some bits and pieces it is with a big smile on his face.
When he's stood in the confectionary and crisps aisle it strikes Harry that he's never had his choice of foods in the muggle world before. He really doesn't know what to start with, what he will like, and so fetches himself a basket with another smile and promptly begin to pick things up at random, throwing in everything from snickers to malteasers and milkyways before adding several bags of crisps and a bottle of coke on the way to the check out. Somehow he finds himself flirting with the check-out girl and when she hands him his change she tells him to remember where she works making Harry laugh.
It is not until he is back in his room at the Bed and Breakfasts that Harry is brought crashing back to reality. He immediately notices the owl on the window ledge and curses as he rushes across the room while throwing his bag on the bed and fiddling with the locks to let the owl in. Harry peers out the window to check if anyone has noticed but doesn't see any bewildered stares so slams the window shut and scowls at the owl that hoots softly from the bedpost and holds out their leg.
"Who sent you huh?" Harry murmurs while taking the letter and watching the owl for signs of wanting to leave. The owl doesn't move so Harry fetches it some of Hedwig's owl treats, petting his own bird when she hoots in protest, before moving to sit down on the bed and open the envelope. He doesn't recognise the handwriting.
Harry Potter
I have never written to you before. Please read the entirety of this letter before making your judgement on it. My name is Pansy Parkinson. I am sure you are as shocked to be receiving this letter as I was to realise I had to write it. I should start by stating I believed everything that you said last year because I had seen evidence of it for myself. I saw things I would not wish anyone to witness about the movements of the Dark Lord and his followers.
I don't want this war. I don't want to serve a half-blood maniac and I don't want to die for a cause I don't believe in. To be frank, I don't like muggle born witches and wizards because they are ignorant of my culture and hold children that were raised in the wizarding world back but I certainly don't want them dead. I want to have a life Potter, not be a murderer. I have no interest in being marked but recent events and those in motion show that being neutral and standing back to do nothing is no longer an option.
I believe it is in both of our interests for me to help you in this war. I don't want to go into specifics but I hope that my openness with my opinions will allow you to trust me enough to meet with me. You can dictate the specifics of the meeting and I will be there.
In confidence,
Pansy Parkinson
