Hello. = Normal Writing, Writers Perspective

"Hello." = Normal Speaking

'Hello' = Quotes from Story

"Hello." = Different Languages

'Hello.' = Actual Thinking

Hello = Special Words

Chapter Two
Dog day

"The average dog is a nicer person than the average person."

- Andrew A. Rooney -

Having stuffed away his Sneakoscope into a lair of socks, Harry tried to make his hair look a little less wild, smoothed out his clothes and then made his way downstairs. Where a shocked Aunt Petunia still sat on her chair and a tomato red Vernon stood beside his sister who was cuddling fat Dudley.

Let's not forget about Ripper who growled at the entering teen. Pesky little bulldog.
It wasn't as if he did not like dogs, he just couldn't stand Ripper - who had chased him up a three when he was nine. Not the best experience.

"Boy!" Barked Uncle Vernon, making the actual dog look up rather funny. "What did you do?!"

Blinking shortly Harry set a small, pleasant smile on his face, one of those Lucius Malfoy had often worn when in unpleasant company. One could learn a lot from ones enemies.

"I believe, I might have shocked her with my behavior, sir." He answered respectfully, shocking Vernon too. Alas it didn't last long as the woman at his side opened her mouth - great Morgana, she was still waring a thin lady-beard. People did say the dog often resembles the owner.

In this case Harry would say it was the other way round.

"So, you're still here." It wasn't a question, more a statement and Harry was going to rub his tongue with loads of soap for what he said next.

"Of course, Ma'am." 'Ugh, forget this, I am taking the Sonata any day of the week.' Repressing a shudder he miraculously kept his smile in place. She lifted her eyebrows at his pleasant tone.

"Don't just say 'of course', be thankful my dear brother took you in." She rasped harshly, then to Uncle Vernon in a not-so-hushed voice. "If they had left him at my doorstep he would have been in an orphanage within the next hour."

An orphanage in these day's would have been better than his Aunt and Uncle.
But he kept his opinion to himself, still smiling pleasantly. The next hours would be torture. He was so going to get out of here by the end of the day.

And he was right.

Marge kept on insulting him and his parents through the first few hours and wasn't stopping anytime soon.

After some time Petunia had regenerated enough and greeted the human bulldog pleasantly, distracting her for a short while. Sadly she kept on like this, all day long. Harry also kept on his smiling and pleasant demeanor.

Which apparently scared Dudley. Good.

Some time later, around seven, found the four Dursley's in the salon. Meanwhile Harry cooked the dinner.

"Where is he going to school again, Vernon?" She asked, sipping tea, making pearls of it clutch to her thin beard. Her whale of a brother, eating a biscuit munched his answer to her, crumbs landing on his shirt. Harry was disgusted.

"St. Brutus's. A formidable institution for hopeless bubs." Oh, he was going to shove a bub up his uncles ass, alright.

This night was going as he predicted. Horrible. That is, until a whimper interrupted them. It was Ripper, who came running into the dinner prepared salon. A second later he was clawing at a stunned Marge's leg, still whimpering pathetically.

The next moment there was another dog standing in the door-frame.
This one large and shaggy and black.

Padfood. He was unhealthy thin, but still imposing. Especially with his raging red glowing eyes. 'What the?' A second later found Harry in front of the dog, calming him down. The Bacon in his hand wasn't doing any harm either.

At least to him.

"Sh, Snuffles." He murmured silently, scratching the huge dog behind his ears. "Go, I will be there in an hour." The dog gave him a slobbery lick, then turned tail and left. The old mud obviously had been listening in on the conversations. Spying Hedwig hidden in a tree the teen nodded to her, then turned around to face his relatives. Who were starring at him in shock. Besides Dudley that is, as he was still staring at the television.

"Boy, what was that?" Asked Vernon in an eery tone that promised pain. Sadly for him Harry was done playing nice. He starred back defiantly, eyes glistering in the dimming light of the dusk.

"A dog, uncle. Maybe you need glasses if you have to ask me." With that he pushed up his glasses, using his middle finger. Then he was out of the room faster than his Firebolt and up the stairs before his uncle could react. Quickly grabbing his trunk and Hedwig's cage the teen made his way downstairs, only to be met by his red-faced uncle. Fat fists were everywhere in the air, behind him were Marge and Petunia, looking at the unfolding scene with glee.

"You ungrateful, little-" He was stopped by a thin stick pointing menacingly at his nose, making the whale go cross-eye.

"Love you too. I'm off, this never was my home so don't miss me."

Was the sarcastic quip, then Harry was outside on the darkening street, dragging his heavy trunk after him. Maybe he was a bit fast to leave, but he was sure his dashing family wouldn't say anything. Neither would Dumbledore as the two weeks he needed to stay for the wards to work were already done. Then again the geezer probably would, when he found out that his precious weapon had run away. Alas the boy-who-just-couldn't-care probably had just broken the wards with his parting words.

They only worked if he saw this place as home, after all.

Walking towards Magnolia Crescend's playground with vigor the teen thought about the possibility of tracking spells that were placed upon him, or the house. Maybe all these funky instruments in the old geezers office were used to spy on him.

Or he was being absurdly paranoid.

Either way, he was going to get to Diagon Alley.

With Snuffles. Who was already waiting for him at the playground, wagging his tail while Hedwig sat on a nearby tree keeping watch. It was a comical, but refreshing sigh to see, as if taken right out of a comic book.

He remembered how it had been the first time, when panic had a grasp on his heart and he just didn't know what to do as he stalked the dark street. In his past he thought he had been stranded in the Muggle world, now he knew how to call the Knight Bus. Ruffling the dog's head, the boy murmured his intention to call the bus in a unobtrusive manner. Barking once the dogfather gave his consent.

So Harry reached for his wand (hidden in his sleeve) and pointed it down the street.

It wouldn't take long for the purple monstrosity to arrive, but the twosome sat in front, or on top, of the heavy trunk to wait. Harry made sure his hair was hiding his scar. When he had first called the bus there had been an incident with Sirius and the conductor, Stanley Shunpike.

He remembered Stan, not too bright a bloke, but decent enough to not tell on him. Stupid as he had been back then Harry had given Neville's full name, not knowing that the Longbottoms were rather famous and many knew the son of two famous Aurors.

Maybe he could do something with the poor bloke. In his future he had been forced to be a Death Eater under Imperius - after being imprisoned in Azkaban. Last the hiding twosome heard Stan had been lynched in the Ministry. Yes, he had never been the brightest candle on the chandelier, but the rioting people (who were sure Stan pulled a Malfoy) had actually hung him from the wizards statue in the Ministry.

Yep, the after effects of the war had not been pleasant.

Finally the Knight Bus arrived and Stan greeted him like he did before, only he stopped this time because of Padfoot, starring at the huge, red eyed dog with an open mouth.

"Cool dog", he finally said, after Harry cleared his throat bit obnoxious. Smiling tightly the teen got in, the Animagus right behind him, while poor Stan lifted his heavy trunk up. Without a wand.

Why? Harry had no idea.

"Say, Mr. Stan." Began Harry, unconsciously tilting his head to the side like a curios cat. Once he had the mans attention he continued. "Why don't you use your wand?"

Okay, maybe he was a bit of a teaspoon right there, but how could he have known it was a sensitive topic for the elder teen? Grimacing lightly Stan walked up behind the sleeping driver but instead of knocking he turned back to the boy and his dog while leaning against the glass.

"Wha did ya say ya name was?" He asked back, arms crossed a bit defensive.

"Vernon." Was the quick answer, true it wasn't the best he could come up with, but it was better than giving his name. "Vernon Harris."

"Well Vernon", internally the time travelers both cringed, "I can't use ma wand 'cause ah didn't finish School. Even if ah could, it woulda be foolish to do in a Muggle vicin'."

Harry's eyes widened a bit at that. That was news to him, he made sure to ask Sirius later on. And didn't Stan have a wand when he flew with the Death Eaters the night Harry fled Privet Drive?

"But can't you take your Newt's at the Ministry?" He asked, sure that was the case. Hermione had mentioned something along those lines once or twice. Meanwhile they reached the bed he remembered having on his very first drive.

"Ah could." Admitted Stan, pimply face a bit grim while he stuffed the trunk under Harry's bed. "Bud ah nevah even finished ma Owls eitha, teachas said ah couldn't do nothin' righ'. Ah was only able to work hea because ma 'ead of 'ouse put in a good word foa me."

Harry felt sympathy for the silly male.

Stan had always been a bit naïve and vain, which showed when he had tried to impress a couple of Veela at the World Cup, or when he tried to impress his friends by stating he had knowledge of the Death Eaters. But he was a chatterbox, always on the lookout for more gossip to share. Could they use somebody like that? Probably. Harry decided to make a friend, or rather a connection. A pair of eyes and ears in a public vehicle were better than being blind.

Then again it was a bit risky like this. He decided he would be coming back if he found a proper way to disguise himself. He took eleven Sickles from his purse - which he had kept on himself this time around - and told Stan he wanted to get to the Leaky Cauldron.

The drive there was boring, nothing major happened, aside from Harry asking for the Prophet. And the fact that they had a hard time staying in one spot.

Just like it had been the first time around, the photograph of Sirius starred at him from the front page. The article itself said basic things known about Black that were known publicly. Nothing the pair did not already know. A few stops later, near one o'clock, found the-boy-who-lived and his trusty dogfather in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Stan, after lifting the heavy trunk down to street level with the teens help, was saying his goodbyes.

"See ya 'round Vernon. If ya ever drive with the Knight Bus again, don't ya foaget me." With those parting words the pimple faced male was whiskered away, just like the other occupants of the Knight Bus.

For a short moment it was silent, only the noises of the Londoner nightlife were heard. Then the dog next to the boy threw him a deadpanned, red eyed look that seemed to say 'Really?'. Ignoring that the teen grabbed his trunk and wandered into the Leaky Cauldron, followed by the large hound.

Of course the pair drew a few stares their way.
Who wouldn't stare when there was a teenage boy with a red eyed Grim look-a-like dog walking into a pub. 'Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.' Shot through the teens head, while he made his way up to the barkeeper, Tom. Who looked like the teen remembered him, a near bald toothless walnut.

"Hello, Tom." He greeted friendly, keeping Sirius form behind him, so the elder wizard would not notice the glowing red eyes just now.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron once more." Was the friendly greeting. Harry just smiled back at the old one.

"Tom, I would like a room here for at least a week." Actually till the end of summer, but Harry wanted to wait until after his Gringotts visit to tell the barkeeper.

"Of course", he rummaged behind the counter for a bit until he finally produced a key, "including your breakfast?"

The teen nodded, slid two Galleons over the counter and took the tiny key. It was not long until he was dragging his feather-light charmed trunk up the stairs and to room fifteen (thanks to Tom). Which was large in comparison to his old bedroom with the Dursleys.

Just as he remembered the bed was a shaky four poster, cobwebs graced the corners of the ceiling and a old, wooden desk was across from the bed. Aside from that only a single fragile wardrobe was placed next to the bed. The disillusioned teen put the trunk in front of the bed while the dog sniffed around smelling.

Closing the door (and locking it) Harry turned around to his already changed Godfather.

"You look shitty as hell." Were the first words out of his mouth, but they were true. Sirius was pale, skinny and overgrown with shaggy black hair. At least he now had his original gray-blueish eyes back.

"You look like a shitty little teen." Came the retort - not the best the Black could come up with, but the poor bloke was probably so hungry he could only think 'meat'.

"I will get us a meal", decided the boy, "then we will plan our next moves. Keep hidden until I come back." The older time-traveler nodded and sat himself on the bed, a tired look in his eyes.

"Be right back."

So the teen vanished out the door - which he had opened just a fraction - and got downstairs where he ordered a meal small enough to be for just one person. Including a bowl of soup and a platter of bangers and mash.*

They couldn't plan their next moves on an empty stomach now, could they?

As Harry balanced the tray up the stairway, down the hallway and up to their room he pondered how he would get Sirius into Gringotts. He did not consider himself an infiltration expert, but his illegal trip down to the Vaults was giving him some leverage.

Maybe Harry could take him inside while Sirius was his animagus form, but the teen was pretty sure the Goblins had a spell against that somewhere. And he could not drag the man himself up to the Bank considering how everything and everyone was on the lookout.

Humming in thoughts he knocked on the door in rhythm, then opened up to let himself in.

Pondering about something with an empty stomach wasn't the best idea, so he would talk with his godfather after the meal.

* bangers and mash:
mashed potatoes and sausages, which sometimes come with onion gravy or fried onions. Frigging delicious.

~ HP ~ OZ ~

Ola, me dear Chikorita's!

I tried my hand at a written cockney accent for Stan, but failed, so just did simpler things to get the point across. What ya think? Should I keep up with trying the accents or not? Maybe only for those who have strong ones?

Will keep the chapters at the 15th of each Month.

To me dear Rewievers

Me dear geetac, that in itself is the idea. As it often is with time travel fanfictions it begins with only little difference...

Me dear BunyipBudgie, it is nice to know that this story has promise in the eye of others :)
Hopefully you keep up with this story of mine. Thanks for pointing out exactly what is wrong, at least with your comment I can work. Getting a Beta - got a slight trust issue with those, due to other sides where some other story ideas I had been working on were stolen by my last Beta. Not happening again. Once I have found one I can actually work with I may do so, until then I shall work only with me readers. Oh, and I am using Open Office to write my fanfiction. Other than that, I will try to correct the errors from past chapters when I find the time. Writing with dyslexia isn't easy, especially with a language not your own - even if I am only getting better. Your comment made me realize I probably should put a Foreword at the beginning, so everybody will know directly. :)

fluff

~ Berry