October 1998

These days Harry felt tired a lot, but he also felt energized. He was aware that that wouldn't make sense to anyone else if he tried to explain it, but it was true. He was doing so much these days that he was constantly worn down, but every single thing he did he could practically see the effect of, and that was energizing. Never before had an end really been in sight (unless you count when he was walking to his death, and that had been morose, so let's not go there), and now that there was, he found it very nearly made him giddy.

When he did something, it was for him. It was such a basic idea, that when Harry realized that that was why he was so happy, it brought him down from his giddy high for quite a few days. Had he really never done something just for him? He thought that the fact that the answer was no was enough to depress anyone. Everything he had ever done (and some things he had avoided doing) in his life had been to please someone else. First the Dursleys, then maybe his primary teachers, then Dumbledore, then his professors, wizarding society, his friends, the Order, the D.A., as he thought the list went on and on.

Even Quidditch had been something he was unceremoniously ushered into by McGonagall and Wood without much of his own input. While he had enjoyed flying itself, playing competitive Quidditch, especially in his first year, had always made him queasy. Seekers were always targeted the most by Beaters, the position was high-pressure, and Wood led grueling practices that usually didn't even have much to do with him. Harry was happiest just flying by himself, or nicking the snitch and chasing it around the pitch without a game or practice going on around him. He supposed the games at the Weasley's might have been fun too, if he were not so afraid of looking like he was showing off, or sparking Ron's jealousy. Fickle thing that.

But now, things were different. Now when he went through a room in Grimmauld, it was just for him. It was so that he could enjoy the house. This was for him. The items he sifted through were his, the rooms he cleaned he would enjoy spending time in, and when he ate the dinner Kreacher prepared at the end of a long day and talked to the house-elf, he knew that in the future Kreacher would have a close bond with him.

Of course, his sorting through Grimmauld had really only been what he had been doing in his free time. He had yet to be called into Gringotts to look at their security, but that didn't mean he didn't have a million other things to do. After Gringotts had warded Number 12, he had said his goodbyes and thanks to Bill and Fleur, and immediately moved into the dilapidated residence. After a brief reunion with Kreacher, whom he had not seen since that fateful morning before he had broken into the Ministry, they fixed up one of the impersonal guest rooms together, and settled on the newly cleaned bed for a conversation that lasted well into the night.

Harry told his long tale to Kreacher, explaining why they had not come back that day, what had happened since, that he had not come back before now for fear of Death Eaters attacking him here, and that now that the residence was safely warded, he could use it as home base for a while. Kreacher was grumbly, but understanding, and berated Harry for letting "those filthy goblins drag their filth all over the most Ancient and Noble House of Black's primary residence." He claimed that the Black library had books on wards superior to anything the goblins could cook up, and that the portraits of long-dead Blacks could also give him better warding advice.

Harry then told Kreacher about all that he had learned at Gringotts, including his new status as Lord Black. Over the next few days, Kreacher told him many of the Black family secrets and traditions, and Harry, while appreciative of information, found that his plate was looking to be piled sky-high. Because while Kreacher and the portraits of the house were teaching him things that were undoubtedly priceless, they also informed him of a few more duties the Head of Black had that Gringotts had been unaware of. He didn't even want to think about what would happen when he visited a Potter property.

But even though Harry's days were full to bursting, he still loved every second of it. This was exciting, and he knew that once he had gone over everything that had been left to its own devices for however many years, things would slow down to a comfortable pace. Due to the various positions he held that he was now actively paying attention to, he would never get bored. Harry had a deep dislike for boredom, and he was sure that that was probably one of the only things about him that was normal.

"Kreacher, I'm leaving!" Harry called out, pulling on his suit jacket. Today was a Muggle day.

"Kreacher knows, Master Harry. Kreacher is a house-elf." Kreacher replied pointedly, after popping up behind him, tugging on the bottom of his jacket to smooth out the rumples.

"Yeah, yeah, Kreacher. No need to get a big head," Harry admonished teasingly, happy with this little morning routine. "Today's a Muggle day, so I'll probably be back around five."

Kreacher responded by shoving him out the door he had snapped open while Harry was talking, grumbling something that Harry was sure was insulting towards him. Ah well.

The streets of Muggle London were a sight Harry enjoyed. He found it refreshing to be among a crowd of people without them recognizing his forehead (or, most recently, his entire body. Thanks Prophet). Even more refreshing was their fashion sense. Harry had never really gotten used to wizarding fashion, and now realized that he could really only handle it in small doses before the novelty wore off and he found that everyone just looked silly, out of date, and generally like they had wandered off of a film set. Robes were mighty uncomfortable in the summer and when it was windy or raining. They were terribly good at getting in the way of his arms and legs, which was just irritating when he was trying to get to class on time (or fighting for his life).

Feeling pleased and savvy in his suit, Harry called for a taxi after emerging from the alley he had Apparated into. Harry had figured out pretty soon that walking up to a building where a business meeting was being held looked a little odd to Muggles that knew he was rich. So he had to chuck out the Apparate-into-dark-alley-and-walk-a-block-to-meeting plan, and grab a taxi about five blocks away instead, so he could pull up to the building just like everyone else, and a taxi driver wasn't wondering why someone needed to pay to be driven one block. He didn't need anyone catching on to too much strange behavior. That way led to people thinking about and noticing him, and asking questions. He hated questions. He was also rather adverse to confunding and obliviating Muggles all the time as if he wasn't messing with a fellow human's most important organ.

The building was tall and shiny, similar to most of the buildings in which the meetings he had took place. If they weren't tall and shiny they were old and made of stone, proper English things. The lobby had polished marble flooring and a high ceiling. He was sure that yelling would result in a spectacular echo, but suppressed the urge and walked to the front desk instead, shoes clacking.

The secretary's bubblegum-pink lips stretched into a smile as she heard him approach, looking up from the computer monitor in front of her. "What can I do for you sir?"

Harry gave a polite smile back. "I'm here for the ten o'clock conference with the board of directors"

The secretary blinked in surprise and her smile turned hesitant and unsure. Harry could forgive her, seeing as it was one of the best reactions he'd had yet, and she was certainly the nicest secretary he'd come across so far. He'd probably have to mention that at some point. Boards tended to be made up of older men, seeing as they made the big decisions in the company. Harry was 18 years old, and certainly wasn't one of those people who looked older than they were. He'd had various incredibly rude reactions from secretaries, all the way from ignoring him to insulting him to his face and trying to kick him out. This one just seemed like she didn't know what to do and didn't want to step on anyone's toes, which Harry could understand of someone who was near the bottom of the chain of command. So he let his smile broaden a little and continued, "you can call up to confirm if you'd like."

She looked instantly relieved and turned to the phone as Harry perused her desk for entertainment. Ooooh, candy. He grabbed a few of powdery white puffy squares from a dish and popped a couple of them in his mouth. Minty lime. Yum.

Bubblegum seemed to be finishing up her phone call so Harry hastened to swallow and get his directions to the meeting. She was leaning more and more towards the phone dock as she repeated 'Yes sir's, and when the phone finally touched down she turned back to him with another winning smile. "I'm sorry about all that sir. The conference is on floor ten. The elevators are down that hall, and when you get up there all the offices are labeled and the conference room is opposite the elevators. You're gonna have to go through the cubicles to get to it. Did you get all that?"

"I've got it. Have a nice day."

"You too sir!"

The elevator ride provided the perfect opportunity to consume the rest of the minty soft candies, which Harry did happily. No doubt a tedious few hours were ahead of him, so he had to enjoy what he could, while he could. "I hate old people" he muttered around the candies as the elevator dinged. What? It was true.

The sight of beige cubicle upon beige cubicle made him want to jinx himself, but he managed to hide his distaste for the monotony by sliding a politely disinterested expression on his face. Just as the secretary had stated, the opposite wall was covered with frosted glass interrupted by the occasional dark wooden door. Walking past the cubicles, he examined the signs on the doors. M. Richards, K. Thomson, L. Tiers, oh! Conference! Harry approached the door with the nameplate stating 'Conference', swinging it open without knocking. They knew he was coming from the call, and he really shouldn't be interrupting anything considering he wasn't late, and they were in a business environment.

Yup. Exactly. Knocking just slowed people down.

Blegh. Blegh. Board meetings were such a pain in the arse. Old people had no sense of efficiency. They just argued and argued about the most pointless things! Harry couldn't wait until he fixed electronics around magic so he could videoconference. (He still couldn't believe that nobody had seriously tried it before. Scratch that, he could. Wizards were lazy sons of bitches.) Then he could occupy himself while old people bickered, maybe brew a potion, or clip his toenails or something. Those were always getting in the way and growing too long before he knew it.

Unfortunately he wasn't having much luck with the whole electronics vs. magic thing. He had a hunch that he needed to know everything about how all the different electronics (and magic) worked to get much further, but catching up on years of muggle education (because just studying one thing proved how ignorant he was in everything else, and he felt utterly stupid not knowing things that every muggle his age knew) was proving to be difficult.

And on top of that, Harry was trying to solidify his magical education too. Lately he had been feeling so clearheaded, and realized that he didn't know as much about magic as he should. The first step was going back through all his textbooks and assignments, and then he was going to look at Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and then go through things they didn't teach at Hogwarts, especially Occlumency. Because the thought of someone getting in his head ever again without him even realizing was just disturbing.

There was so much to do! Harry couldn't believe he had let all of this slide all of those years at Hogwarts, what had he been thinking? Hopefully all the things he had to do would get done. Harry didn't want to get caught with his pants down because of his own ignorance of the world he was a part of. Worlds. Whatever.

Well then. Tonight he'd eat what was sure to be a great dinner, read a few chapters of the Muggle and magical textbooks he'd bought and found, and then he'd clear out another room with Kreacher.

He'd worry about tomorrow when it was today.

A/N: As you can no doubt tell, this is another one of the history chapters. I suspect that most of them will be this brief, and chapters will get longer again the closer we get to 'present day.' Sorry for the delay getting this out, ideas for oneshots were bugging me and now I've got about five half-written oneshots sitting around on my computer waiting to be finished. I was also working on the timeline for this story, trying to figure out how fast Harry learns things, and when/how things change and progress in the wizarding world. It's gotta be realistic! Hopefully next chapter will be up faster than this one was. This is rambley, so I'll stop now. Review with comments and questions, please!