Harry woke early the next morning. For a moment he was in a panic, not recognizing his surroundings. However, he soon recalled what had happened the previous day. He showered quickly in the en suite bathroom, then pulled a change of clothes from one of the half dozen shrunken trunks on his necklace. He chose a thin long-sleeve shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and a deep blue robe that was closed on his torso but open over his legs. He reshrank the trunk, attached it to his necklace, then removed the rune scheme that was on the door.
When he arrived downstairs, Rosmerta was nowhere to be seen. Just before he walked out the front door, intent on getting an early start to the day, a voice called him back.
"Rahkesh!" Rosmerta called, coming out from the kitchen. "I hope I didn't just see you try to sneak out without breakfast!"
With a roll of his eyes, Harry smiled and turned back. "Of course not, Rosmerta. What's on the menu today?"
"Well since you're the only one here, you get to choose my menu today," she smiled at him.
"Just some eggs and bacon would be lovely," Harry answered, seating himself at the bar.
"Comin' right up," Rosmerta called from the kitchen. Just a few minutes later, she walked out with a plate piled with eggs and bacon. Pulling another plate from the bar, she split it in half and pushed one plate to Harry. "So," Rosmerta started, "what're you doing in England? Besides sightseeing, of course."
Harry finished chewing his eggs. "I'm actually thinking of moving back to England. I was just going to get some stuff sorted with the London Gringotts branch today, check out Diagon Alley. Though I'll probably have to look for a job sooner rather than later," he mused.
Rosmerta hummed. "Well, I know it's not the most glamorous position, but my last server for Hogsmeade weekends graduated last year and I haven't set up a replacement yet. If you'd like, you can take the position while you're looking for a more permanent job. Plus, it might help you get that invitation to the castle," she smiled.
Harry took a moment to think and polished off his bacon. "Could I get back to you tonight on that? I want to get all my bank stuff sorted first."
Rosmerta nodded. "Sure thing. Just make sure you have an answer by tonight, because the Hogwarts rush starts tomorrow."
Harry smiled. "Thanks for the breakfast. See you tonight," he said, donning his robe again and pushing through the doors. After a short walk, he reached the Apparition point on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
With a soft crack, Harry Apparated into Diagon Alley. Directly ahead of him was the massive marble structure that was Gringotts, standing tall and strong. Unbidden, flashes of memories and newspaper articles shot through his head.
December 26th, 1998
Hermione burst through the doors of Harry's room in Grimmauld Place. "Hermione, wha—"
"Harry. You need to see this," she interrupted, handing him a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry reached over to grab his glasses and unfurled the newspaper. The front-page headline screamed out at him, Ministry Moves on Goblins: Siege on Gringotts Begins! Harry rapidly scanned the page, reading how the Wizengamot had convened in a special session, called by Undersecretary Umbridge, and voted in favor of declaring war on the "vile creatures" who conspired to "steal the wealth of the nation." In the photo on the front page, Corban Yaxley was pictured leading a contingent of Aurors in front of Gringotts, a barrage of blasting curses slamming against the now-visible wards of Gringotts. Harry let out a sigh.
"I can't believe they're bold enough to try this," Harry said, getting out of his bed. "They must either be way too confident, or they don't think they need the bank anymore."
Hermione nodded. "I thought the same thing. My guess is that Voldemort decided that either he'll seize all of their wealth when they surrender, or he'll have driven out one of the only powers he doesn't control left in Britain."
Over the next few days, more articles were written, detailing the valiant efforts of the attackers and the awful countermeasures the goblins were employing. The inhabitants of Grimmauld Place wished they could join the defense, but there was no way they would be able to pass the huge numbers of Ministry workers surrounding the building. It began looking more and more grim as the days turned to weeks, and layer after layer of ward was torn away. Then one day in January, as suddenly as it all started, the whole matter came to an end.
The cover picture of the Daily Prophet on January 16th was a picture of Diagon Alley that was nearly unrecognizable. The proud, white marble of Gringotts now a pile of rubble sitting in a giant sinkhole. Many of the nearby shops had fallen in as well, though they had been abandoned for months by now. In addition to this, the Prophet reported that an unbelievably powerful ward had been dropped over the entire ruin that vaporized any Ministry worker that got to close. However, the Ministry still claimed victory, assured the public that Galleons would still be accepted as currency, and instructed those with money in Gringotts to apply to the Ministry for new currency of equal value to that lost in the collapse.
With a deep breath, Harry pushed these memories back and strode with purpose towards the Wizarding bank. He grinned slightly when he saw the familiar warning inscribed on the silver doors leading to the atrium. He paused a moment, glancing about for a free teller, before seeing a goblin near the end of the massive room inspecting precious gems. He moved in front of the bench, then calmly waited while the goblin meticulously inspected each gem, made a mark on a piece of parchment before him, and transferred the gem to another pile. After several minutes, the goblin set down its magnifying glass carefully and turned its piercing gaze to Harry.
"What do you want, wizard?" it asked brusquely, in no mood to waste time. Harry quickly gathered his thoughts.
"I would like to make a rather significant deposit, as well as inquire about some other services you provide. Would it be possible to meet in a private room?" Harry smoothly explained. The goblin, for its part, merely glared for a few moments before grunting at him. A sharp claw extended to the back of the atrium.
"Wait there, someone will come get you eventually," the goblin said before turning back to the pile of gemstones. Harry nodded, and calmly seated himself where the goblin indicated. He waited for nearly an hour before a goblin opened a nearby door and gestured to him impatiently. Harry quickly stood and followed the creature farther into the bank.
They walked along a long hallway that had amazingly intricate carvings covering every available surface, including the ceilings and floors. Periodically, beautifully engraved doors dotted the walls. After passing at least a dozen of them, the goblin finally opened one of the doors and held it open for Harry, who quickly ducked inside.
"What do you want, wizard. I don't have all day," the goblin demanded, seating itself behind a large wooden desk.
"As I said before, I would like to make a large deposit and take advantage of some of the services you offer," Harry explained.
"Alright, let's see the deposit," the goblin demanded. In response, Harry removed one of the trunks from his necklace.
"With your permission, I would like to enlarge this," Harry asked, setting the trunk on the floor. The goblin nodded, and Harry returned it to normal size with a wave of his hand. The goblin's left eyebrow lifted marginally, but it showed no other reaction. Harry lifted the lid, revealing an expanded interior filled nearly to the brim with an obscene number of gems. The goblin, for a moment, lifted slightly out of its chair, eyes alight with greed. Just as quickly as this expression appeared, it vanished, and the goblin sat back in the chair with a calculating gaze upon Harry.
"So, what were these other services we can help you with, Mr.…?"
Harry smirked. "Asmodaeus."
They took a short break while the goblin, who introduced himself as Hookfang, called in some other goblins. Several of them took possession of Harry's trunk, chattering excitedly to each other in Gobbledegook. Another brought in a tray of tea and biscuits.
"Hookfang, just so you're aware, I have meticulously counted and weighed every rock in that trunk," Harry casually said.
Hookfang just grinned. "Of course, Mr. Asmodaeus, of course. I would expect nothing less. Now, what were these other services you required?"
Harry carefully phrased his next words. "You see, I was born in Britain, but my parents moved to Australia soon after I was born. I recently decided to move back here, but I managed to lose all my identification as soon as I got here. I was hoping you could help me get that all sorted out without me having to go to the Ministry and explain my embarrassing situation."
Hookfang's grin became nearly feral. "I'm sure you understand, Mr. Asmodaeus, that such a service will not be inexpensive, especially considering the Ministry's love of interfering with the affairs of individuals such as yourself." Harry had been expecting this, but merely nodded. "Very well, we will need to collect your information, so we can properly… recover your identification." A few forms were laid out upon the desk, and the goblin picked up a quill. "Full name?"
"Rahkesh Asmodaeus."
"Place and date of birth?"
"August seventh, 1975. St. Mungo's."
The questioning went on for nearly an hour, the goblins collecting details that Harry would never have considered had he not been through this process before. They asked for mundane things, such as previous addresses, schools attended, NEWTs earned, and the like, but also obscure and inconsequential things, such as childhood friends, number of brooms owned, and even favorite brand of ice cream. Eventually, though, Hookfang was finished.
"Alright, Mr. Asmodaeus, I think I have everything I need. I just need a few signatures and then we can get you your proof of citizenship, Apparition license, and your NEWTs." Hookfang slid several sheets of paper across the desk along with a black quill. Harry lifted it and signed carefully in the marked locations, each page disappearing with a flash of light as he finished. His hand was just beginning to get sore when he finished the last one.
"Very well. Here are your identifications, and NEWT certifications for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Runes, and Arithmancy. Is there anything else you need today?" Hookfang said, handing Harry an envelope.
"Yes, I'd like to see what value your appraisers came up with for my gems," Harry answered. Hookfang barked out an order in Gobbledegook, prompting another goblin to enter with a sheet of paper, while two others brought the trunk back in. Hookfang glanced at the parchment.
"Your jewels have been appraised at a value of just over 3 million Galleons for the entire amount. As a side note, a fair number of fakes were found, which we have tabulated and separated from the rest. Here is the complete inventory," Hookfang explained, giving a sheet of parchment to Harry. He glanced at it, but everything looked to be in order.
"Alright. I would like to sell you the entire amount, and have it placed in a medium security vault," Harry decided. "I'll take, say, three hundred Galleons in a bottomless pouch please." Hookfang nodded, producing another form for Harry's signature.
Soon after, Harry walked out of the bank, less one trunk on his necklace, but with a small pouch fastened to his belt. He made a beeline for Flourish and Blotts, intent on doing a little research. If he was back in 1994, either he had a doppelganger running around somewhere, or something else was different. Based off his name appearing in the Prophet as an Auror's name, it appeared that there could be differences, major or minor, though Harry was still hoping it had been a simple misprint.
As Harry entered the store, a slight smile appeared on his lips. It looked just as he remembered before the word had broken out. The shelves reached high up into the rafters, stuffed to the brim with books on every conceivable magical subject. For a few moments, Harry simply stood and stared, taking in the sights and sounds of a business he never thought he would see again. He began moving through the shelves, and eventually he reached the nonfiction section. His finger ran along the spines of the books, eventually stopping on The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. Unbidden, a voice echoed through his head.
"I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
Harry shook his head, pushing his memories out of his conscious mind. He pulled the book from the shelf and immediately flipped to the back, searching for the section on Voldemort. He soon found it and began skimming the words.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose to power in 1970… Then Minister of Magic Eugenia Jenkins leaves office in 1975… Charlus and Dorea Potter were killed in 1977… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named defeated by the Boy-Who-Lived, Neville Longbottom, after killing both of his parents on Halloween night, 1981.
Harry was torn from his thoughts by a light chiming sound, followed by a voice: "Sir, are you going to buy that?" Belatedly, Harry realized he had been reading for nearly ten minutes, and the Charms undoubtedly in place to prevent people from reading entire books in the store had alerted the clerk.
"Sorry about that, just got caught up. Yes, I'll be buying several of these, I'll be there in just a moment," Harry explained.
The clerk nodded slowly, returning to the front desk. Harry grabbed all the books he saw that had anything to do with the last three decades, then piled them in front of the surprised clerk. He nonetheless accepted Harry's money and put the books into a shrunken bag for him. Harry thanked the clerk as he left, slipping the back into the pouch on his waist.
Harry's mind was in a mess. Apparently, in this world, the Boy-Who-Lived was Neville, not Harry. If something that major was different… Well, it didn't bode well for Harry's misprint theory. He was planning on heading straight back to Hogsmeade to read his new purchases but was distracted by the shop he saw just across the alley, the Magical Menagerie. Deciding to make a quick stop to clear his mind, he stepped in.
His ears were immediately assaulted as he stepped past the sound cancelling ward on the door of the shop. The most overwhelming sound was the large number of birds singing to each other, though they were far from the only sound. However, he was quickly drawn to pair of glass cages in the corner, where he could hear a number of voices speaking to each other.
A small black snake with a blue underbelly was rapidly striking at the glass of its cage, varying the angle and position each time. The cage was undoubtedly charmed to be unbreakable, so there was no evidence that the snake's approach was working.
"You are never going to break through that, you know," a more mature voice said. Harry watched as a lighter colored snake, about six feet long by the looks of it, uncurled and hissed towards the small snake. "We have been trying for years, but none of us have ever escaped."
The smaller snake replied with a wordless hiss, before its scales began rippling from head to tail. The color of the snake change with the ripple, until it exactly matched that of the snake that had been speaking. It also increased in length, though was apparently unable to grow to the full size of its companion. "Just because you can't figure a way out, doesn't mean I won't be able to," the doppelganger hissed angrily, before continuing to strike at the glass wall. Harry smirked at the younger snake's determination and leaned down before it.
"What is your name, young one?" he asked. The snake froze, before rippling back into its original form.
"How is it you can speak our language?" it asked suspiciously.
The older snake took offense to this. "Watch your tongue, little one," it hissed. "Speakers are exceedingly rare, we do not need to offend it."
"I'll say whatever I want. It's not like it's done anything to help us, so I see no reason to respect it," the small one replied.
The older snake turned to Harry. "I apologize for my companion's behavior, Speaker. She is still young and impulsive. I have done my best to teach her our ways, but her kind has always been impulsive and brash."
Harry laughed, before speaking again. "How would you both like to get out of here?" he asked, smirking when both snakes perked up before responding with an emphatic yes. "I will be right back," he told them, before walking to the clerk at the counter.
"Excuse me, I would like to purchase the two snakes you have over there," Harry said, pointing.
The clerk looked up with a bored expression. "Sure thing. That'll be twelve Galleons for the python, and sixty for the viper." Harry raised an eyebrow at the rather steep price, and the clerk explained. "It's a chameleon viper, pretty damn rare. My boss had a hell of a time getting the one. He probably won't be happy that it got sold so fast, I think he wanted to use it to gain some publicity, but that's the price."
"Alright, I'll take them both, along with their cages and enough food for, say, a month? And do you have anything I can read to learn about them both?" Harry said. The clerk nodded as Harry handed over the Galleons, then walked to the cages to remove the anti-theft spells.
"Okay, sir, you're good to go. We have a pamphlet for all our animals, those are attached to their cages. Though if you'd like, I could put both of them in stasis and shrink them? The stasis will automatically lift once you unshrink them," the clerk said as Harry placed the frozen rats in the pouch at his waist.
"That would be perfect, thank you," Harry answered. The clerk tapped each cage with his wand, and they were suddenly the size of match boxes. Rather than placing them in his pouch, Harry dropped them both into the breast pocket on the inside of his robes. Nodding, Harry turned and left the store.
There was only one last purchase Harry needed to make before he could go back to Hogsmeade. He hadn't used a wand in years, but he would certainly need one so he could fit in here. His mind slipped to the last time he had used his wand…
March 17th, 1998
Harry knew he had made a mistake when he felt the Anti-Apparition ward fall into place around him. He had been rash, foolish. He knew that now, but it was far too late. Though he had managed to kill at least four of the Death Eaters, the rest of them had managed to pin him down between two of the abandoned shops. Now, it seemed as if they were content to keep him in place, though he wondered why they weren't trying to capture him to take him before Voldemort.
His question was answered when there was a sharp crack, immediately followed by sharp pain shooting through his scar. He's here, Harry thought. I need to get out of here.
"Harry, Harry, Harry. When will you ever learn? You can't escape me. You might as well come out in the open and face your death like a true Gryffindor," the Dark Lord's sibilant voice floated down the narrow passage. Harry knew that he had no choice, if he stayed here he would die for sure. At least if he was out in the main alley, he would have a chance to escape.
Harry raised himself from his crouched position and slowly walked towards the street, keeping his wand up, ready to cast a shield charm at a moment's notice. Eventually, Voldemort came into view, flanked by several members of his inner circle. In the opposite direction, a small crowd of Death Eaters, Aurors, and random passerby were gathered.
"Harry, so good to see you again. I'm sure you weren't expecting it again this soon, but I just couldn't stay away," Voldemort taunted.
"Sorry, Tom, I don't swing that way," Harry replied snarkily, hoping that Voldemort's infamous temper would give him an opening. Unfortunately, he only chuckled.
"You never fail to amuse me, Harry. I'm sorry to say that these chats are going to have to come to an end, however. I must say, I'm impressed you've managed to escape me for so long, but that ends today," Voldemort told him. "Now, it's time to finish this," the Dark Lord said as he raised the bone-white wand. "I presume you still remember how to duel?"
Harry wasted no time, casting a silent Confringo without even raising his wand all the way. He hesitated when he saw the grin flash across Voldemort's lipless mouth.
"Avada Kedavra," he said, negligently raising his wand. The two spells collided, and their wands were connected just as they had nearly three years ago in the graveyard of Little Hangleton. Harry immediately began forcing the beads of magic along the strand of magic with all his might, surprised to see them move smoothly towards Voldemort with little resistance.
Suddenly, the connection was broken as Voldemort dropped his wand. It took only a moment for Harry to realize his advantage, but that moment was all Voldemort needed. Belatedly, Harry noticed the second wand sitting firmly in Voldemort's offhand, and the nearly invisible spell that had been launched from it. Panicking, Harry twisted to his left, frantically trying to dodge the spell. He nearly succeeded.
As if in slow motion, the spell made contact with Harry's wand. In a flash, his beloved holly and phoenix feather wand vaporized, and the particles left behind were launched at high velocity straight into Harry's forearm. The only thing Harry could register was an extreme amount of pain, along with massive amounts of blood leaking from the tiny holes punched in his arm. Soon after, he faded into unconsciousness.
Voldemort began to laugh, and he raised his wand to finish off the boy who had been such an annoyance to him for so long. However, just before the green spell hit the boy, a wall of stone shot up from the ground and blocked it. Voldemort growled in frustration, casting his gaze about for whoever had dared to stop his final vengeance on the boy.
Out from under an invisibility cloak stepped the form of Mad-Eye Moody, one of the few remaining free members of the Order of the Phoenix. A twisted grin slid across the Aurors face as he raised his wand.
Harry drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few days. Occasionally, he was aware of a damp cloth being held against his forehead, or soup being lifted to his mouth, but nothing more. One morning though, he opened his eyes and managed to keep from falling back to sleep.
He was in his room in Grimmauld Place, apparently. He was about to rise from the bed when the door slammed open, revealing Hermione, who quickly pushed him back down into the mattress. Harry tried to speak but started coughing, so Hermione grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and helped him drink. Harry tried again.
"What… what happened?" he asked, grimacing as he heard how rough his voice sounded. "Last thing I remember is… Voldemort…"
Tears were slipping down Hermione's cheeks. "You almost didn't make it. Your arm was a complete mess, and you lost a ton of blood," she choked out. "I can't believe you did that, Harry. It was so—"
Harry interrupted her. "I know, I know. I'm so sorry. I just couldn't stand staying still after—" Harry choked, still unable to voice it. Hermione nodded.
"I know, Harry. Trust me, I do. But doing things like this will only get you killed," she said quietly.
"Where's Mad-Eye today?" Harry asked, drinking some more water. His expression dropped again as he saw Hermione's eyes flicker away from him. "Hermione?"
"He—he didn't make it," Hermione managed to choke out.
Harry sank into depression after the debacle in the alley, and though Hermione did her best to alleviate it, there wasn't much she could do. The loss of his wand had been a major blow, too, and they had no spares he could use. Harry had taken to cleaning the house without magic, just as he had done the summer before his fifth year. Though this time, he was alone. No Weasleys, no Sirius, nobody except Hermione and himself. Kreacher, even though he was much more accommodating after Harry promised to destroy the locket, was still old, and even his magic couldn't keep the house clean.
One day while Hermione was out collecting food and newspapers, Harry was cleaning one of the many upstairs bedrooms. There were several bags full of dust and various other pieces of trash sitting by the door, and the only thing left to do was get the dust and dirt out of the curtains.
As he reached out to shake them, a doxy burst from behind them, flying directly at his face. Damn, he thought, I could've sworn we managed to clear them out. He dodged, and the doxy flew past him, before turning for another run. He scrambled for the doorway but tripped over one of the trash bags before he could get there. He rolled to his back and his eyes widened as he watched the doxy turn once more before diving at him. He closed his eyes and raised his right hand in front of his face, hoping to at least prevent a bite to his face.
He opened his eyes when he didn't feel a bite from the vicious creature. Right in front of him, frozen solid, was the doxy. Its beady eyes flicked around, and its mouth was still open as if to bite him. He blinked, then looked around for Hermione, but he was still alone. How did I…
It was then that he noticed the warm feeling in his right hand and arm, almost like he had felt the first time he held his wand. Looking down, he watched as a light red glow faded from sight, though the warmth remained. Waving his hand and focusing, he watched as the dust on the curtains siphoned off and into one of the remaining trash bags. For the first time in weeks, Harry smiled.
Harry quickly walked down the winding streets that made up Knockturn Alley, a black hood pulled over his head as he glanced at the shops as he passed them by. He pulled up short when he finally found the sort of shop he was looking for. The faded paint on the sign read White Thestral Wands and Staves. Removing his hood, Harry walked into the shop.
The interior was not at all what he expected from the outside, but he was pleasantly surprised. The front area of the shop was well lit, if a little cramped, with just a counter and a few chairs. A door behind the counter doubtlessly led to the wandmakers' workshop. A bell softly chimed as he walked in, and a voice drifted from the back. "One moment!"
Harry amused himself by glancing at the few display cases that were scattered about the room. Some held wands, others held ancient weapons, from maces to antique pistols. He was examining a pike that was propped in the corner of the room when he heard the door open.
"What can I do for you, sir?" an old man asked, wiping his hands with a towel attached to his hip. He wasn't nearly as ancient as Ollivander but was probably nearing Dumbledore's age. Harry cleared his throat.
"What is the strongest wood you have?" Harry asked, not wasting any time. The man looked curiously at him but answered nonetheless.
"Currently, I think that's Brazilian ebony. May I ask why?" he answered.
Harry ignored the question. "I'd like you to make a coreless wand from Brazilian ebony, 13 inches long. Make it as tough and durable as you can, but I would still like to be able to transfigure it. Can you do that?"
The wandmaker thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. "I can do that for you. I've a few other jobs right now, but I can get to it, say, in three days?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I need it today. Can I pay you extra for a rush job?"
He nodded, an odd expression on his face. "Alright, but it'll cost triple for labor and materials. That okay with you?" Harry just nodded. "Okay. Give me, say, three hours, and I'll be done. You can wait if you'd like," he added, gesturing to the seats as he returned to the back of the shop.
True to his word, the crafter finished in just under three hours. The "wand" was a dark brown, nearly black, with beautiful craftsmanship. The handle fit Harry's hand perfectly, and a small thestral was engraved on the base of it. Harry thanked and paid the confused wandmaker, then left the shop on his way to the Diagon Alley Apparition point.
Author's Note: Here's another chapter for you all, just about 5k words this time. Feedback is always appreciated, so if you have any questions or comments please leave a review!