Diagon Alley was more wonderful than she'd ever dreamed it could be, and Tom allowed her time to simply absorb everything. He could appreciate how she felt right now. She'd remember this moment for years to come, hopefully as the start of a better life.

The rules for today were non-negotiable and mostly boiled down to 'obey every order Tom game instantly and without question or he wouldn't allow her to come back here until she was eleven. She knew Tom didn't make idle threats, so was resolved to be good.

After some time, he directed her to the far end of the alley to exchange their money at the bank. He was patient as she was constantly distracted on the way. Once they started their work here she wouldn't have time and she would probably be more capable of concentrating if she'd already had a good look.

He'd prepared her for meeting goblins so she wouldn't drew unwanted attention - bad enough that she was there alone at eight years old and with muggle money. With every step she'd taken since leaving the Dursleys' he'd wanted to call the whole thing off, because there were just so many things that could go wrong, but he needed to do this; he needed her to do this.

They'd bought new clothes on the way and she now wore black trousers, black shirt, black shoes and a black hooded coat that would have to do until they could buy a cloak. With any luck, once she had that, most people would dismiss her small frame as her being a creature of some sort, as long as she kept up the act of confidence and knowledge beyond her years. And of course, a black bandana to cover her head. She had a full fringe and a hood, but he still wouldn't permit her to venture out into the wizarding world without covering the mark he'd left upon her.

She walked up the steps quickly, just as he instructed: the time for sigh-seeing was over it seemed. She kept facing forward and successfully fought the urge to stare at the strange creatures. Tom was impressed and strangely proud.

She was only able to do this because he was there with her. She knew she had nothing to fear. The responsibility he felt as a result of that trust felt like an anvil on each shoulder, but sounded as sure as ever as he instructed her to the appropriate line and all to soon she was called to a teller.

"I wish to exchange this." She put on her telephone voice whilst tossing the bag of money onto the counter and looking off to the side as though bored by such a routine action. In reality she thought she was about to throw up her heart. Was she overdoing it? Underdoing it?

"You're doing well. Just keep going as we planned." He coaxed successfully. She turned back when the goblin returned her bag and took it from him, stopping to take a careful look within before nodding to the goblin and making a steady escape. "Well done. That was very well done." She beamed with pride as she made her way down the marble steps and towards the robe store.

Tom made her wait outside until she could get back control of her face, and then she made short work of purchasing a cloak which she wore out. She felt a bit ridiculous and dramatic, all swooshy – her face hardly visible beneath the oversize hood, but at the same time it was easier to act in this cloak. It was like wearing a costume and becoming someone else.

Tom was glad she was feeling more confident, because what he would have her do next was by far the most dangerous part of the day, not that he'd told her that, it was imperative she act confidently now.

He directed her to Knockturn Alley. Using her eyes to take in every single thing he could, he had her march quickly into Borgin and Burkes and straight to the counter.

"I wish to purchase a Baetylus, an ebony dagger, a small crown and a footstool." Harry wanted to do a little dance to celebrate that she hadn't messed up the pronunciation, but she didn't have to stop herself, because as soon as the thought entered her mind, she noticed how very ill the man behind the counter looked after hearing her list. Tom quickly whispered instruction to her and she didn't falter when the man finally spoke up.

"What makes you think I have a Baetylus? And, and what do you mean by 'footstool.'"

"Borgin, if you don't provide all these items, I will be most… displeased." Harry had been talking a little too quickly for a second there, so Tom had to purposefully withheld the final world and the effect was actually rather satisfactory. The man looked even more unsure as he attempted to gaze into the shadowed hood of the tiny child… thing. Harry slammed a hand down on the counter as directed in order to draw his attention away and continued to parrot her friend's words. "I have the utmost faith… that you can acquire them all within a day or two?" It wasn't supposed to sound like a question, but Tom thought it was going well enough anyway.

Borgin looked like he wanted to say something more, but Tom wanted to end this as quickly as possible.

*Damn it, you fool!* "Do we have a problem?" Borgin started to shake his head in earnest, his hand shaking lightly as he pulled out his stock book.

"N,not at all."

Tom was ecstatic. His little Horcrux could speak Parseltongue! He'd simply cursed in frustration before continuing his dictation, but in copying him in both languages without missing a beat, Harry had put the fear of, well, Voldemort in the aging man. Borgin wouldn't know exactly what was going on, but he'd also never dare ask. It was just too good. In an uncharacteristic change of plan, he had Harry give the man an address to deliver the objects to once he had them and leave the money on the counter, before promptly turning and leaving the shop without waiting for a confirmation.

Tom had told Harriet to walk straight back through the Leaky Cauldron, but as soon as she caught sight of the bathrooms she all but ran inside and proceeded to throw up quite violently.

"You were magnificent, Harriet." She just scowled into the toilet – he was far too happy. "Most people appreciate my happiness." He teased.

"Well…"

"Shh, Shh!" Tom had to remind her.

"Well I feel like I'm dying." She almost cried, kneeling before a pub toilet in her brand new swooshy cloak.

"You're not dying." He dismissed her dramatics. "You just needed to expel all that tension." At her petulant silence he continued, "You did well, Harriet, truly. I'm very proud of you." The words had slipped out before he could stop them, but it was just as well for they seemed to be the cure to Harry's sickness. She gathered herself, washed up and set off out into muggle London with the feeling that she could do anything.

And the day only got better when Tom told her that they would be able to leave the Dursleys' after all, and that he was in such a good mood that she wouldn't even have to go back at all if she didn't want to. She didn't want to, so they walked until they found a modest looking hotel, the kind owned by a chain and didn't particularly care who stayed there as long as there was no trouble. She'd received curious stares due to her cloak but didn't care. She felt good. She felt safe. She felt free.

Her freedom lasted only about thirty hours.

It was 11:23 the following night and Harry was sound asleep when the door to her room silently swung open. As two figures made their way towards her bed, the banging of a door further down the hallway woke her.

"It's ok, Harriet. We are policemen. We're here to help." The man spoke quickly in an effort to soothe the frightened child. Harry sat up in bed, her heart once more threatening to break loose, but she stayed quiet.

"Tom! Tom! Help me!" She practically screamed in her mind. She had a talent from hiding her emotions from those around her, it was more of a survival tactic really, but she never held back with Tom and he felt the surge of panic trying to reach him.

"Calm down." He snapped at her, annoyed that she'd been discovered so soon – nothing was ever easy, was it?

She took a deep breath and slowly climbed from the bed. Blinking back her tears, she took the hand of one of the police men and allowed herself to be taken away.

She stayed quiet during the drive back to Surrey, every single mile made her world smaller as invisible walls closed in around her.

Tom was disturbed. This wasn't right at all: These supposed policemen asked only a handful of questions, mostly about her health, and were now taking her straight back to the Dursleys. Surely more would be involved in dealing with a run away. They hadn't even been to the police station; they just placed her in the back of a patrol car and set off on the long drive home. Her family would have only reported her missing last night, so it seemed unlikely muggles could have located her so soon. This whole thing stunk of Dumbledore. He was glad they'd left her cloak behind at the hotel.

"It's ok." He tried, but she shut him down immediately.

"Go away!" He knew she was sneaped, having her freedom snatched away like that.

"It's only for a short while, I promise." She didn't respond, but she believed him.