Harry Potter and the Hidden Kingdom.
Ch8 Time Flies
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Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage. If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.
Dale Carnegie
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Two weeks later.
16th August, 1991
4pm
Harry gently eased the last half-grown lettuce into its new home, tamped down the soil and sat back with a satisfied sigh. He dusted the dirt off his hands, picked up his trowel and stood, gazing around his conservatory and basking in the warm glow of accomplishment he'd previously only experienced when entering his little kingdom. He supposed it was the same. This was his kingdom too, only this one truly belonged to Harry and couldn't be taken away from him, even if it was somehow discovered.
He meant that quite literally. Three days ago, after many evenings spent searching Great Uncle Edwards archive, he'd finally found the instructions on how to activate and key himself into the wards on his tent. There were actually several methods, each offering different levels of ward security and he'd chosen one that made it so that other people could only enter his tent if he specifically invited them, and if his tent was ever stolen, confiscated or otherwise lost, all he had to do was 'Will' it to return to him, and it would. It didn't matter if the tent was up or down, if he called it the little box would appear in his hand, and when it was in box form only Harry could see it and only Harry could open it. He'd practiced summoning it, leaving it in his now empty hut and then calling it to himself at some point in between jobs, while he was out working. The first few times he'd had to concentrate so hard that he'd given himself a tension headache, but it had become easier as he got used to doing it. He didn't need to concentrate anywhere near as hard now, and he was certain that with a few more weeks of practice he'd be able to do it with just a moment's thought.
Harry carried his tools and the tray he'd been using to transport the plants along the gravel path towards the potting area, eyes skimming over neat beds of recently relocated plants, checking for signs of distress. Most of them seemed to have taken the move well. The blackberry canes were already starting to bud and the strawberries and raspberries were doing the same. The water cress he'd settled in a shallow section of the pond didn't seem to even notice it had moved. Some of the herbs and other plants had wilted slightly at first, but they'd bounced back after a day or two. Most of the remaining 'annual' crop plants he'd decided to simply harvest as much as he could before he had to go and leave where they were. His 'preserving' room already had a good supply of apples, berries, corn, potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, cabbage, lettuce, peas and beans, along with a bulging sack of sunflower seeds. He'd had a bumper crop this summer, and there was still more ripening that would be ready to pick before he left for Hogwarts.
By far the hardest part had been moving his fruit trees. Two Lemon trees, two pears and a hazelnut bush. They were all only two years old and grown from cuttings, so they weren't very big, and he'd pruned them heavily a week before he'd moved them to make them easier to move. He'd thought about trying to use magic to move them, his charms book had instructions for a levitation charm, but when he'd tried using the charm on a leaf it had somehow caught fire, and Harry had decided to leave learning actual spells until he had a teacher on hand to fix any mistakes. So he'd had to move the trees by hand. It had been a big job digging up the root balls, manoeuvring them through the conservatory door and then getting them into position in their new plant beds. He wasn't sure if they'd survive the move, according to his gardening books it was a bad idea to move them while they were fruiting, so he'd also taken several cuttings to strike, just in case. Sitting on his potting bench were over a dozen neatly labelled plant pots, sitting in little tents made of plastic shopping bags and wire. Along with his own fruit trees he'd borrowed (well, stolen would be more truthful) cuttings from various fruit trees in and around Little Whinging. He had taken several cuttings from each plant so hopefully at least one of each would take root and grow. Different varieties of Lemon, Pear, Apple and even a few samples of Peach, Plum, Nectarine and Cherry from an orchard just outside the village. He'd even taken some cuttings from some local Nut trees, a huge Walnut tree whose branches hung over a fence at his old school and a chestnut tree in a front garden a few blocks away. It was something he'd been wanting to do ever since he'd first learned how. He'd become very good at growing things from cuttings, but he'd always been wary of planting anything that could get tall enough to show over the fences that bordered his kingdom. All it would have taken was one curious home owner looking over the fence and it would have been all over! But now... now that wasn't a problem any more. He could grow trees. He had plenty of room.
Back towards the outer door of the conservatory he already had the beginnings of a small orchard. Two days ago he'd visited the really big nursery in Guildford and bought several small fruit trees and bushes which he hadn't seen growing in the area. He'd gone a little overboard and bought all the ones they'd had that were recommended for 'indoors'. Two types of Orange, a Mandarin, Avocado, an Olive tree, and two 'Cavendish' banana plants. Along with those he'd also bought many different packs of seeds, several large bags each of various types of fertiliser, and, on impulse, a mushroom growing kit. He'd had a moment of nausea at the checkout when he heard the total, but had swallowed it down, reminded himself this was a full years supply, and handed over the money, wheeling the heavily laden trolley out the door and around to the side of the building before glancing around furtively and enlarging his tent. Harry had been a little nervous about setting it up in such a public area, but the 'muggle repelling' wards had worked well and nobody had paid the slightest bit of attention to him as he unloaded his purchases inside through the conservatory door. He had closed up his tent, trundled the trolley over to the trolley-bay, and walked across the big carpark towards the 'Super' hardware store that was next door to the 'Super' nursery. He'd always wanted a wheelbarrow...
Harry wiped his tools down and put them away, took one last, satisfied look around, patted the handle of his nice, new, shiny, red wheelbarrow, and then ambled back into the living area of the tent. He'd finished up a little ahead of schedule and had some free time on his hands. He wandered into the bathroom intending to have a shower, but then stopped and looked at the big sunken bathtub. He hadn't actually tried it out yet and it might be nice to have a soak... Yes. He'd take a bath, he decided, and relax until dinner. After the work he'd been doing lately he was due a lazy evening.
Just before six pm a very clean and slightly pruny Harry wandered into the pantry carrying a plate. He looked over his options before serving himself some herbed chicken breast, tossed salad, potato salad and a herb and fetta bread roll. Eschewing the milk for once he poured himself a glass of chilled apple and lemon juice and carried his meal back through the kitchen, he hesitated at the dining table then shook his head and continued outside, sitting down in his usual spot and starting on his meal, savouring the hot chicken and the warm buttered roll. It was so nice to not have to cook every night now! By deliberately cooking in larger quantities he was slowly building up a buffet of cooked, always ready to eat meals. Which meant that when he didn't want to cook, he didn't have to.
Of course, he realised that meals were provided at Hogwarts. He probably wasn't going to need all this food while he was there. But he liked the security of having it available. He didn't think the teachers would withhold food as a punishment the way the Dursleys had, but knowing he was carrying a well stocked larder and a comfortable bedroom in his pocket made him feel a lot more confident about the prospect of living at a boarding school and submitting to the authority of a bunch of adult's twenty-four-seven. He was, to be honest, not looking forward to that at all. Not after living almost entirely by his owns rules for the last four years. He'd never had much luck with teachers, or authority figures in general, so having his tent available, a place where Harry was in charge, a tangible reminder of who he was, well, it was a lifeline, and he was going to cling to it.
Harry leisurely finished his meal and watched a dragonfly hovering over the stream for a while, then strolled back inside and dumped his dishes in the sink. He picked up his garden diary from the coffee table, updating it with a list of the plants he'd moved today, a sketch of the layout he'd planted them in, the climate settings he'd set those plant beds to, the produce he'd harvested outside, and any other thoughts he had about the garden. He'd started keeping a garden diary not long after he'd started planting his little kingdom, one of the more useful garden books at the library had recommended it, and over the years he'd found it very helpful to look back and see what had worked and what had not. Closing the diary he stood, and wandered over to the Gramophone he'd retrieved from his grandparents archive when the utter silence in the tent had started bothering him. He pulled out a random record from the collection that he'd found inside the cabinet. 'Scheherazade', by Rimsky-Korsakov. Worth a try. He'd never heard of most of the music in the collection but he'd enjoyed what he'd listened to so far. Once the music started, all deep and dramatic, he ambled over the book cases and looked over his collection of novels. He'd picked up a few new ones for 10p each from the second hand store that morning while he was looking for tupperware. With an amused smirk he pulled out 'Five go Camping' by Enid Blyton and returned to the lounge, looking forward to a lazy evening. Before opening the book, however, he contemplated what he would do the next day, now that he'd finished moving all the plants.
For the past two weeks he'd been re-locating plants in the early morning and afternoon, and spending his evenings searching Edwards archive for the instructions for keying himself into the wards and sorting through his ancestors 'personal effects'. He'd found all sorts of useful things, which were now scattered around the tent. He'd also glanced through the 'work' areas, although he hadn't understood much of what he'd seen in those rooms. He'd need to sit down and really look at the things there to figure out how they worked. He supposed he could do more of that, but... He wanted a break. He wanted to go out and do something different. He wanted to... to...
Harrys eyes drifted around the room, skimming over books and chairs and landing on a pile of eighteen dirt streaked tins sitting at one end of the dining table. Ah!
He wanted to take his money to the bank!
Harry smiled, stretched out sideways on the lounge and opened his book. Tomorrow he would go back to Gringotts.
l}={}={}={l
17th August, 1991
8.30am
Harry walked into the big second-hand store in Guildford as it opened its doors for the day. He headed straight for the children's clothing section, hoping to find something that would pass as wizarding wear so he could blend in better at Diagon Alley. He'd stood out like a sore thumb in his muggle jeans and t-shirt when he went there the first time. Everyone he'd passed had stared at him like he was some kind of alien and he'd prefer not to attract that kind of attention again if he could avoid it. From what he'd seen when he was there with Hagrid, wizard boys his age mostly wore a long sleeved, loose fitting tunic top, some plain, some with decorative trim or embroidery around the neck, wrists and hem, all with a narrow belt around the waist and varying in length from just below their hips to almost knee length. The tunics seemed to get longer the older they were, with older teens wearing tunics from mid-thigh to mid-calf and the adult men wearing tunics from knee to ankle length. Most males also wore long loose sleeveless coats, from calf to ankle length, over that. Under the tunic they wore ankle length loose pants (although he'd noticed that the men with the full length robes didn't seem to bother), which were either worn loose over leather shoes or sandals, or tucked into boots. He was already wearing his old black leather school shoes, and he had a belt in his bag. He just needed the rest of it.
There was nothing suitable in the boys clothing section, or the girls zone for that matter. However in the night-wear areas he found a girls royal blue long-sleeved V-neck nightshirt, with white edging around the wrist and neck, in a lightweight poly-cotton knit. In another aisle he found a pair of boys flannel sleep pants in plain black. He also found a woman's black cotton house-coat. Which looked might it might be the right length for an over robe. It had long sleeves, but he figured he'd have plenty of time to unpick the seams, hem the arm holes and remove the belt loops during the train ride to London, he'd brought his sewing kit with him for just that purpose. He took his selection into a change room and tried them on. The nightshirt came down to mid-thigh and, with the pants and the house-coat he thought it looked relatively authentic. Certainly he wouldn't stand out as obviously as he had in his normal clothes. He wondered if the wizards knew they were walking around wearing Muggle pyjamas?
On his way to the checkout he stopped by the hat section and, after another careful analysis of what he'd seen on his birthday, he selected a black, fedora-style hat which adequately hid his scar and distinctive messy hair. He paid for his purchases and stuffed them into Grandmother Dorea's black leather messenger bag, which was, again, much more in keeping with what he'd seen people using in the alley than his own backpack. Plus, it had an expanded interior, so he could fit everything he needed in there without it getting too heavy.
Satisfied, he made his way to the station and boarded the train to London.
l}={}={}={l
10.30am
Harry ascended the stairs at Gringotts, completely unremarkable in his faux wizard clothing and hat. He made his way over to a teller and asked to visit his vault, briefly handing over his key for inspection and following the goblin, Swingshot, who arrived to escort him to the carts. Once he reached his vault he explained to Swingshot that he wanted to count his money and would probably be there for several hours. Swingshot grumbled under his breath, glared, and then reluctantly pointed to a bronze ring hanging on a chain inside the vault.
"If you want to stay that long, I'll need to lock you in. When you want to leave you pull that chain, and someone will come let you out"
Harry blinked uncertainly. "Ooooookay. The lights will stay on with the door shut. Right?" Swingshot nodded impatiently. "Alright. I guess we'll do that then."
He entered the vault and Swingshot closed the door with a thud and a clank of locks.
"Right" muttered Harry. "Best get to it then"
He reached into his bag and pulled out his scales, a large quantity of brown paper bags, sticky-tape and a marker-pen. Sitting down next to the pile of knuts he started counting them onto the large dish end of the scales.
"One, two, three, four..."
...
"...four hundred and ninety one, four hundred and ninety two, four hundred and ninety three. Done! One galleon!"
He set out the weights on the counter balance and carefully levelled the scale. Adding and taking off single knuts to check the lee-way and using his marker pen to mark exactly where the level stopped. Then he tipped the pile of coins into a paper bag, taped down the top and marked the bag 'G1'.
He placed the bag against the back wall and started piling handfuls of knuts on the scale. Adding coins until it balanced and then tipping it in a bag and marking the value.
An hour and a half later he was done. Where the pile of knuts had been were neat rows of paper bags, set in rows of ten. There were 285 knuts left over, which he simply poured into his money bag. Harry counted up the bags and made a note in his newly purchased Vault Ledger. '145 Galleons in knuts (= £725)'
Harry stood, stretched, ate one of the burritos he'd brought with him, washed it down with some apple and blackberry juice, then sat down again and started on the sickles, making neat stacks of seventeen and rolling them in white notebook paper the way Mrs Ashley had showed him that time he'd helped her count a bucketful of money she'd collected for charity. One hour later he finished that pile too. Slipping nine sickles into his money pouch and noting down '588 Galleons in Sickles (= £2940)'
After stretching again Harry started counting galleons. Using brown paper to roll them into stacks of twenty. Two hours later he sorted the rolls into sets of five, adding them up until he reached a total of '11,304 Galleons (= £56,520)'
Giving Harry the grand total of... 12,037 Galleons (£60,185)
Harry pulled his muggle money from his bag, double checking that there were sixteen bundles, each of £1000, then put them back in the calico bag and set it in the corner. He'd kept just over £2000 in the tent, just in case he had some sort of emergency and needed it.
Harry sat back and smiled. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a tight ball of anxiety that had always been there, started to loosen. He had just over £78,000. That was a decent amount of money! The last time he'd checked a few months ago an undeveloped, five acre block of land in Shropshire was going for around £30,000 and he had over double that right here in front of him! Not bad for a days work!
Harry double checked the amounts and wrote them up in his vault ledger. Then poured his money pouch out into his hands. Why had he taken so many Galleons instead of Sickles and Knuts? he wondered. Counting it out he realised there was over fifty galleons worth of coins in the pouch. More than enough for what he wanted to buy. He wrapped up another 20 galleon stack and put 20 of the sickle stacks in his pouch instead, adjusting his ledger to show the change. He knew from experience that the only way to get rid of small change was to spend it before the big stuff.
Harry stood and pulled the brass ring, munching on his second burrito while he waited. The door opened a few minutes later and Swingshot peered into the vault as Harry walked out, brows rising slightly at the neat stacks of paper wrapped money.
"You done then?" He grunted,
"Yes, thanks, we can go" Harry replied cheerfully, climbing into the trolley as Swingshot locked the door.
l}={}={}={l
3.30pm
Harry left the bank and made a beeline for Flourish and Blotts, heading straight for the shelf the cookbook had been on. Scanning the selection he found it and pulled it out. "Ha! Take that Hagrid!"
Truth to tell, he didn't really need it now. Charlus had a left a huge collection of cookbooks for Harry to look through, but that wasn't the point. There had been no valid reason for Hagrid to stop him from buying it. Harry wandered through the bookshop picking up 'The Big Book of Household Spells' and 'A Wizards Guide to a Healthy Garden' which seemed to be the only book in the Herbology section that covered gardening in general, instead of focussing on just magical plants. He paid for his selection, making sure to count out the money in correct change, instead of just handing over a galleon or two.
Next stop was the Owl Emporium, where he picked up a few boxes of owl treats for his owl, whom he had decided to name 'Hedwig', a name he had found in his History of Magic book. According to his books Post Owls generally preferred to hunt for themselves, but it was considered a good idea to give them a snack or two when you interacted with them, especially when you sent them off with a letter, or they delivered one to you.
Harry spent the next hour wandering the alley, learning the layout of the shops. He was rather disappointed to find his original observation was correct. There were no shops that sold second hand goods in Diagon Alley. He did find another alley, called 'Knockturn Alley' but he decided against exploring it. What little he could see from the entrance showed it to be frequented by people with cold eyes and furtive habits, and others who wore heavy cloaks with deep hoods hiding their faces on a warm summers day. He wasn't sure if Magical society had drug dealers, pimps and gangs, but if they did then this was the kind of place they would hang out, and those were the kinds of places he had learned to avoid. A decision he felt was justified when he overheard a Mother threatening her teenaged son with 'and if I hear you've set one foot in Knockturn you won't see your broom for a month!'. Obviously not a safe place visit.
Once he was done exploring Harry left Diagon Ally as anonymously as he had arrived and made his way back to the tube station, stopping at a public loo on the way and changing back into his normal clothes.
l}={}={}={l
18th August, 1991
12.30pm
Harry walked into Little Whinging public library and approached the returns desk, smiling sheepishly as he handed his books over to Mrs Ashley, who gave him a mock glare when she realised how late they were.
"I'm sorry Mrs Ashley, I didn't mean to bring them back so late. These last few weeks have just been so crazy I forgot I had them until last night. How much are the overdue fees?"
"Hmf! That will be three pounds young man! Now what was so important that you couldn't bring them in on time, hmm?" She replied, trying to look stern, but her twitching lips gave her away.
"Oh! I found out that I'm going to be going away to a boarding school!" Harry replied happily, reluctantly handing over the money.
"What? How?"
"Well, a lawyer turned up on my birthday a few weeks ago wanting to talk to me. Apparently my parents Will set up some kind of trust fund for my education so that I'd be able to go to the same school they both went to. It's a private boarding school in Scotland."
"Scotland!" exclaimed Mrs Ashley in surprise.
"Yes. I leave on September first. I've been so distracted getting my uniform and school books and things I just completely forgot I hadn't returned these"
"Oh, well that's wonderful news Harry!" She said, tapping a few keys on the computer and surreptitiously sliding the three pounds back toward him. "We'll miss you of course, but it sounds like a great opportunity for you"
He smiled at her gratefully and pocketed the money. "Mmm. I'm kind of excited to go, but I'll miss you too. It's a bit scary to go so far away to where I won't know anyone at all. I won't be able to work there the way I do here, and I'll miss my favourite books here too. I wish I could take them with me." Harry finished mournfully.
Mrs Ashley stopped and stared off into space for a few seconds, then looked at him thoughtfully. "You know Harry, you're the only one who borrows most of those books, especially the older ones. If it wasn't for you they'd have been on the sales table years ago" she said slowly, gesturing at the table stacked with battered old books near the door. She looked at him a few moments longer, then nodded "How about you go around and pull out all your favourites and bring them over to that table over there" she pointed "and we can sort through them and see which ones you can have."
Harry stared at her in shock "Really?"
"Oh yes" she said, nodding decisively. "They won't stay on the shelves long if you stop borrowing them, the head librarian has been wanting to put a lot of them out for a while now, we only kept them because you borrow them so often. So go on, go bring over all your favourites and I'll come sort through them with you" she said, handing back the three books he'd just returned with a smile.
Twenty minutes later Harry had a stack of thirty books on the table. All the gardening, camping, history, home-renovation, first-aid, general health, cooking and craft books he had found so useful over the years.
"Alright Harry, lets take a look shall we?" Said Mrs Ashley, sitting down beside him. She sorted through the pile, pulling out nine of the newer looking books, leaving Harry with twenty-one older ones.
"Ok, those ones there still get some use, but these ones you can have if you want them. They'll be 20p each, is that ok?"
"That's great Mrs Ashley! Thank you so much!" Harry beamed.
"Oh think nothing of it dear." She smiled, helping him carry the stack over to the counter and starting on logging them out of the system "Like I said, they'd have been on the table years ago if it wasn't for you. I've been thinking of offering them to you for a while now. Now, I've still got that book on box making reserved for you, would you like to borrow it while you're here?"
"Oh, yes please." Harry replied, taking his new old books as they were processed, stamping them with the 'ex Libris' rubber stamp she handed to him, then cramming them into the cloth carry bags he always had with him.
Ten minutes later he handed over £4.20 and hefted his haul out of the library, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Pausing outside he thought for a few seconds before making his way around to the deserted staff-parking area behind the building. After a quick check for witnesses he pulled out his tent, enlarged it and put the bags of books just inside the front door, before quickly shrinking it down again, the entire exercise taking maybe ten seconds at most. Damn his tent was convenient!
