Proditio

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I only own the plot, OCs if they ever happen, and possibly some spells that I may make up that weren't introduced in Harry Potter. I make no money for this and this is merely for entertainment purposes.

Warnings: Brief mentions of child abuse. Being manipulated, betrayal, eating disorders, death, etc. OOC for the light side.

A/N: This is the first long story I have written. I hope you guys like it! This story is beta'd by my friend Emerald Daylily. I hope you enjoy!

-o-

Harry Potter didn't know how much more he could stand until he snapped and finally went insane. He was sitting on the bed in his room, staring at the peeling blue paint on the ceiling. Another day of not knowing what to do with his life anymore. Another day of mourning.

He had lost the only family that he had. Choking back on a sob when he thought of Sirius falling into the veil lifelessly, eyes glazed. He laughed bitterly and borderline hysterically without humor, heart aching painfully.

He didn't know what to do. Hugging his knees together and burying his face, he wrapped the blanket around him, trying to comfort himself. He felt a myriad of emotions, not even able to recognize most of them. The grief was slowly eating him alive. As every day passed, he slowly rotted away a bit more, grieving for his godfather.

He looked like a mess. He was a mess. He hadn't eaten for three days straight, only went down once a day for a cup of water and to go to the bathroom. His hair was flying everywhere, looking worse than anyone had ever seen. His once vibrant green eyes were now a dull green shade that had looked defeated and ready to surrender.

He looked broken.

Bellatrix had pushed Sirius into the Veil. He would never come back. All because of Sirius trying to protect him. Sirius is dead. Bellatrix...

There was suddenly a tapping on his window. Harry didn't bother looking up.

Three minutes later, the owl was still tapping at the door.

He snapped, "Can't they realize I want to be alone?" And went to open the window.

He had hoped the letter was from his friends, but it wasn't Errol or Pigwidgeon. He sighed defeated once again and slowly took the letter from the owl's talon and broke the seal.

Dear Harry:

I regret to inform you that you must remain at your relative's house during the summer. There has recently been an increase of activities from Death Eater, and I urge you not to leave Privet Drive in the process. The order and I are doing it for your best interests, my boy.

Because of current activities, the order will collect you at the start of term and escort you to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters safely. Our informant has revealed that Voldemort has recruited students and will be recruiting more students, especially from Slytherin House.

You shall no longer be associating with Miss Granger and Mister Ronald Weasley due to Voldemort knowing of your friendship with them. It is for you and Miss Granger and Mister Weasley's good, as Voldemort may endanger their lives to get to you, just like Sirius had been. You must only reconcile with them after the war has ended.

It is clear in the prophecy that only you can defeat Voldemort, Harry. You must stay safe.

I sincerely apologize for the weighted burden placed on you, my boy, but you are the only one who can defeat Voldemort and save the magical world, once and for all.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His hand crumbled the letter and threw it across the wall. Rage overcame his mourning state and he lost control. How dare they? It wasn't as if it was all his fault. If it wasn't for Snape not teaching him Occlumency seriously, then he wouldn't have fallen for the trap. And Dumbledore had the gall to try to use Sirius to guilt-trip him?

Then again… It was also his fault, wasn't it? If he hadn't fallen for the trap, Sirius wouldn't be dead. He should've been smarter and realized it was a trap.

And the prophecy… It was just a stupid prophecy! He was only fifteen, for merlin's sake. He should be worrying about school and being popular, not having a bloody Dark Lord trying to kill him since he was born!

He furiously threw a book at the wall and screamed in hate and frustration and tried to calm down. Tears were running down his cheeks as he screamed his heart's content out and whimpered.

He would be alone. All over again. He had forgotten what it was like to be alone since he moved out of his moldy cupboard. Even in the holidays, they wrote to him and that alone had made him feel much better. But he would have to spend who knows how long away from them.

Alone all over again. Just like how he had started.

Why could he never control his own life? He never had control of it. Dumbledore had been insistent that he return to the Dursleys every summer, even if he was treated like a slave and locked in his room the whole summer.

He snorted. As if he ever had a choice in this matter.

Fine. He would stay away from Ron and Hermione if only to keep them alive. They were the best friends he could ever have. He would just glance at them from far away, then after he defeated Voldemort he would be friends with them again.

Harry had enough of being weak. Every year he had been thrust into a life-endangering situation, and it was only his sheer dumb luck that he had survived. He couldn't protect them, he realized depressingly. He could only protect them and have a chance of surviving if he was stronger. No more, he thought. I will become stronger. Yes, he convinced himself, He would keep them and himself safe; they were his only friends. Harry had to be strong, he had to become strong, to protect himself and everyone he loved and cared for. No matter what.

He would do anything even if he had to kill, to torture. He no longer cared what people thought of him. They never cared for him, Harry, but only the Boy-Who-Lived. They were mindless sheep that loved him one second and hated him another. He needed this advantage over the countless one Tom Riddle already had over him.

He couldn't let Voldemort and the Death Eaters win. If he still acted like this, so defeated, he would be letting them win. He couldn't let his parents, Sirius, and so many others' sacrifice in vain. He was the only one that could defeat Voldemort, and hell if he didn't do it. Not for the wizarding world, but for himself and the people he cared about.

He slowly calmed himself and went to pick up his Charms textbook, locking his mourning behind his barely-there Occlumency shields. It worked, but he could still feel a twinge of pain. This would have to do, he thought. Well, at least I can think logically and rationally now.

He opened the charms textbook and sat on his bed. He stared at the section of the revision of the banishing charm and cutting curse. It would be well for him to know these charms well, he thought. His memory suddenly flashed back to the time when Hermione was rambling and told them that wandless magic wouldn't be picked up by the trace and how much she wished she could do it, but only people like Dumbledore, extremely powerful wizards could do it.

I could try it, he thought with a shrug, staring at his ceiling. There was nothing else to do that he could do, he supposed. He was quite powerful, after all. He could cast a Patronus charm when most adults couldn't. He closed the book and placed it on his nightstand and figured he should try focusing on his core first.

All wizards had a magical core, and it determined how powerful you were. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and concentrated on his core. It was a dark gray color and was brimming with magic. It felt just so- powerful, so breathtaking- It comforted him like a warm blanket wrapped around him, comforting him like a phoenix's song.

He slowly crawled inside his core and gasped and sucked in a breath in awe. It caressed his skin and made him tingle. It felt like when he first held his holly and phoenix wand, but even better. He felt alive. It was like he was never alive before compared to now- He felt like he was truly living.

He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, still feeling surrounded by his magic, a bit overwhelmed. He would have to learn to control his power. Even now he could feel the tingle of magic, swirling in the room. He slowly calmed himself and stood up from the bed and went to the windowsill where Hedwig was.

He smiled fondly at his oldest friend and ruffled her feathers. "Hey girl," he murmured. Hedwig hooted at the response and nibbled on his finger. Harry laughed and got an owl treat for her. Hedwig quickly bent down and bit down on the treat. He grinned and softly asked: "May I have a feather?" Hedwig glanced at him for a second before nodding and poked one of her wings out. Harry shook his head. Sometimes his owl was just too intelligent.

He carefully and gently plucked a feather from her wing and thanked Hedwig. And went to sit down on his bed, placing the snowy feather on a stack of books, and stared at it, concentrating on the feather and his magic and silently willed the feather to float.

On his first try, nothing had happened. An hour later, he had only made the feather twitch. Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, he continued to try with no avail.

Recalling the feeling connecting with his magic, he tried to replicate that feeling and managed to have his magic flowing through him. He sighed at the feeling of being filled with his magic and concentrated on the feather, successfully levitating for a few seconds before it fell back down.

Now he seemed connected and concentrating on his magic, it seemed almost too easy- He knew it would've taken the average wizard years to even be able to do this. Then again, how would he know how powerful he truly was? He had never worked hard in Hogwarts, preferring to be a lazy git. No more, he silently vowed. It would be a waste to both his potential if he didn't work harder. Concentrating back on his feather, he began to work.

After a few tries, he was exhausted and managed to get his feather to float for a minute or so. He took this as a good sign and put the books and the feather on his already-crowded nightstand and instantly fell in the arms of Morpheus as soon as his head hit the pillow.

A week later, Harry had managed to do all the charms in his first year charms and defense textbook. He was going through it like a breeze one he realized the most important part was visualization and concentration. He felt like he was doing something that would be useful towards the war instead of only being the Boy-Who-Lived and according to the ministry, the Chosen One.

Harry snorted. The Wizarding World were sheep. They hated him a year ago and now they expected him to do everything for him and still be the poster boy? No chance. He would fight only for himself and his friends.

Pushing his thoughts away and sobering, he turned his attention to his book and began to practice again.

After three weeks of vigorous concentration, practice and only coming out of his rooms for meals and the washroom, Harry had successfully levitated the feather smoothly and had managed to successfully do all the spells in the first four years in The Standard Book of Spells and all four defense textbooks (discluding Umbridge's book), on his birthday no less, albeit being slightly tired due to a long day of meditation and practicing wandless magic. He cheered and stood up from the bed and stretched his back. Yawning, he went to get his fifth year charms book when an idea hit him.

Surely, he could find a way to go to Diagon Alley… After all, he had managed to do glamour charms endlessly. He could just glamour himself, he needed more and new books to try. He couldn't protect himself with an expelliarmus or something like a banishingcharm or a reducto, they were easily blocked by a simple protego. He sighed and realized that it would be useless and he would have to acquire new books that could actually be useful in dueling, and considering the offensive and most likely dark nature, he would probably have to get said books in Knockturn Alley.

Harry grimaced, not exactly keen to use dark magic, it had been the reason why his parents and Sirius and so many others were dead. But they would be bloody useful, and the Death Eaters wouldn't expect the Boy-Who-Lived to know Dark spells and that would gain him a huge advantage. He shrugged at the thought. It was his birthday, after all, he could bloody well do what he wanted.

Pulling out his only pair of wizarding robes except his school ones from his closet and putting it on, he walked down the stairs slowly, to the bathroom where he stared at the mirror and altered his appearance slightly.

His hair was changed to a longer length that was light brown, with higher cheekbones and his eyes now being a light brown and his lips were made to be thinner. No one would recognize him like that.

He opened the bathroom door softly. not wishing to alert his uncle or aunt, which would in turn alarm the order guard. Oh right. He abruptly stopped and rolled his eyes. How had he forgotten that there would always be a guard guarding him? They would alert Dumbledore once he had left, and his cloak probably wouldn't fool them.

He couldn't floo, couldn't take the Knight Bus, he didn't have a portkey, no one would side-apparate him…

Wait, could he apparate himself there? Hermione has said that it was illegal without a license, but no one would catch him… he would only have to do it twice. It was supposed to be quite easy, after all, didn't wizards do this on a daily occurrence? You had to concentrate fully on the spot where you were, try not to splinch, that's it. He shuddered at the thought of splinching. It seemed painful.

Retreating to his room, he stood on the carpet in the middle of the room and concentrated at the small alley between Flourish and Blotts and Quality Quidditch Supplies. He spun and heard a loud crack before he appeared in the small alley. He landed on his feet and groaned as he held a hand on a side of the brick wall, and swallowed. He steadied himself and walked towards the main alley.

There were not a lot of wizards and witches in the alley. Everyone seemed to be afraid of a raid in Diagon Alley or didn't want to accidentally antagonize Death Eaters. He sighed at the thought and put his hood up and fastened his cloak and walked quickly towards Gringotts with his head down. He needed gold to buy new books, after all.

He walked towards the marble white building and walked inside. The front hall was filled with counters and behind each counter was a goblin. He quickened his pace towards one of the goblins that seemed to be currently free and whispered: "I am Harry Potter and I wish to withdraw some gold."

The goblin finally looked up and gazed at him suspiciously. "Key?"

"I… I don't know where it is."

Glancing at him skeptically, the goblin walked away from the counter and reluctantly said: "Follow me."

Harry followed the goblin to the back of the front hall and into a brightly lit corridor and the goblin opened one of the doors on the left.

Harry hastily muttered a thank you and went into the room. It was quite big, with a chandelier hanging down elegantly. There was a whole wall of bookcases at the back of the room, behind the desk and chair. There was a goblin sitting behind the ornate desk and stared at Harry, who was still standing near the open door.

"Come in, Mr Potter."

Harry awkwardly walked in slowly and bit his lip. He walked towards the goblin and the goblin seemed amused at his antics and raised an eyebrow. "Do sit down, Mr Potter. I am Griphook, your account manager. What do you wish to do today?"

Harry reluctantly pulled the chair out and sat on it, shifting. "Uh… I wish to make a withdrawal from my vault. I don't know where my key is."

The goblin seemed to stare at him and handed him a small plate and a small dagger. Harry stared at it, not knowing what to do with it.

"Mr. Potter, give us a few drops of blood to verify your identity. If you are an impostor, the consequences would be very unpleasant." The predatory smirk gave away completely just how unpleasant it would be.

Harry swallowed and nervously cut his fingertip, wincing as he did so. He was quite protective of his blood after Voldemort had taken some of his blood to resurrect himself.

A drop of blood fell on the plate and the cut healed itself instantly. A piece of parchment appeared right in front of the plate and the goblin snatched it as words began to form on it. Glancing at the parchment, the goblin muttered: "Indeed you are Mr. Potter. Which vault do you wish to withdraw from?"

"I have multiple vaults? Don't I only have one?"

Griphook looked at him as if he was an idiot, making Harry shift in his seat. "I must admit I am surprised that you would want to speak to me, Mr. Potter," with a don't-waste-my-time attitude. "You should have been informed by your magical guardian about your vaults and lineage."

"I didn't even know I had a magical guardian," said Harry, confused at what was happening.

"Your former magical guardian Albus Dumbledore, Mr. Potter. He should have informed you about your family vaults. He has also been withdrawing gold from the Potter, Peverell, and Black accounts into certain vaults since 1981. Details and account statements have been mailed to you since you have entered the magical world. Have you not been receiving it?" The goblin said with anger and hatred seeping into his voice.

Stealing from a Noble and Most Ancient House was a crime punishable by the dementor's kiss, and yet Dumbledore had stolen from three of those houses and from an orphan?

"I- I didn't receive anything! Who did the withdrawals go to?!" Harry stammered and swallowed tightly. It was all probably a mistake, he assured himself. Dumbledore was the leader of the light; he wouldn't do this! Even if he did, it was probably for war efforts… right?

The goblin, looking particularly murderous, bent to open his top right drawer to retrieve a roll of parchment. "A deposit of 3,000 galleons have been placed monthly into accounts 713, 821, and 642, under the names of Ginerva Weasley, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger," Harry's stomach plummeted at that. Why would they be receiving gold from his account since they were eleven? Were they staying friends with him for gold?

"… 500 galleons have been converted to muggle gold and had been sent to an account under the name of Vernon Dursley from 1981 to 1991. 500 galleons are deposited monthly to a squib named Arabella Figg from 1981 to until now. The Weasleys have been receiving 2,000 galleons every month since 1981. And the monthly withdrawal of 5,000 galleons to the Dumbledore family vault."

Harry saw red. Rage coursed through his body and he snapped. The Dursleys were receiving his money, to take care of him? They had been receiving 3,500 pounds a month, and still treated him like a fucking slave?! Always telling him how worthless he was and taking him in out of the goodness out of their hearts, and this? They had never even wasted a pound of him. All the money was probably used to pay for their house and Dudley's presents every year, and he had only ever received a toothpick and a 50-pence from them. He laughed bitterly at the irony.

And the Weasleys? No wonder they were able to afford all seven of them to Hogwarts, go to Egypt and still get tickets from the top box in the World Cup. He thought Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loved him like one of their own, and it was only for his money. He saved their precious daughter from a Dark Lord and almost got killed, and yet this was how they repaid him? He bet that meeting Mrs. Weasley at King's Cross was planned along, with the banshee shrieking about muggles to attract his attention.

And Ron, Hermione, and Ginny… He would've done anything for them. Dying for them if only to protect them from harm. They were his closest friends. Yet to find out that they were staying by his side, only because of his gold. He bet they were laughing at him, acting like a fool all along, and they were acting loyal.

Arabella Figg, huh? The bloody woman knew how badly he was treated by the Dursleys, and still didn't care. She was probably paid to keep it quiet and spy on him. His whole life was lied to and was played masterfully from the start.

And Dumbledore… He thought the man loved him like a grandson and he loved and respected him like a grandfather was. Everyone was lying to him, he realized hysterically. His magic flared at the thought and things started swirling around across the room like a tornado. Dumbledore said he didn't know. Bullshit. He had a bloody squib spying on him since he was one. He was playing everyone like a puppet.

A few minutes later, the red hot fury was gone but he was still mad and he finally came back to his senses. He didn't realize tears were dripping down his face. He suddenly was so tired; his whole life had been played from the start; manipulated from the start. Then he calmed himself down, panting slightly as he breathed in and out hard quickly. He wouldn't let them do this to him.

A myriad of emotions was threatening to overwhelm him and overtake his consciousness. Temporarily suppressing all the negative ones.

Determination and desire to prove the idiots wrong filled his mind.

He would show them just how wrong they were, to show them how wrong they were. He would become more powerful, not for the people faking to be his friends, but for himself.

Griphook shot him a rare look of sympathy and sighed. "Mr. Potter, would you like to retract the withdrawals?"

"Yes." He tried to steady his voice, heart still beating furiously.

Griphook pulled out one of his desk drawers and took out a strange-looking device.

"The Dursley family does not have enough money in their muggle bank accounts. Their house, shares, and land would be seized." The goblin smirked, with a predatory grin. Not even they, goblins abused children. To them and everyone else in the magical society, children were sacred and treasured beyond all.

"House Weasley does not have enough gold. Even with the land seized, the Weasley family still owes you approximately 16,000 galleons. The remaining gold is adequate for claiming and binding the daughter as a slave."

"Please have that be done." He was laughing hysterically within his mind. The Weasleys loved Ginny more than anything and completely spoilt her. To have their daughter work for him as a slave- they would be devastated.

"The gold from Vault has not been touched. It would return straight to the Black and Peverell Vault separately."

"Wait, Black?"

"Upon the late Lord Black's death, you, Mr. Potter, had been named Heir Black. Your grandmother, Dorea Potter-Black, was also a daughter of Black blood, therefore you are eligible to take up the mantle of Lord Black. The late Lord Black has mentioned in his will that under no circumstances was it to fall upon the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy or Lestrange. You could take up your lordship now, as you were emancipated from the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry swallowed and bit his lip at the thought of Sirius. "Wait, so does that mean I can take up the Potter and Peverell Lord rings as well? I'm the last Potter, but I'm not sure about Peverell." He suddenly realized, almost relieved by the recent turn of events. If not for Dumbledore's letter, he wouldn't even have found out about these manipulations.

"You may. You are also the heir of Gryffindor through the Potter line. The Lordship of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor could also be taken." Harry nodded, not surprised. The Potter family was rumored to be descended from Godric Gryffindor after all.

Taking out four velvet boxes from another of his drawers, the goblin cautiously took the rings out and handed them out to him. He gasped at the seemingly familiar magic filling his veins as he put the rings on, instantly resizing to fit his finger. They felt like it instantly connected with him, like it was originally a part of him.

The Gryffindor ring was of red and gold, which made him smile fondly. It was an elegant gold ring encrusted with a brilliantly red ruby with diamonds engraved on the edges of the ruby.

The Potter one was made of gold, with what he assumed was the Potter family crest engraved on it.

What he assumed was the Black one was almost vulgar; with a massive emerald in the middle, with a silver serpent wrapped around the ring.

The rest of the ring was a thick silver band. The Peverell ring was a simple gold ring with what looked like wheat symbols engraved on the gold, and a black obsidian stone with a triangle, circle, and a straight line in the middle. It looked weirdly familiar; he wasn't sure where he had seen it before.

He grinned from ear and ear, for some reason he was stupidly happy; it made it seem like his family had accepted him when everyone else hadn't. The goblin seemed amused by his antics and asked, "Mr Potter, do you still wish to withdraw some gold?"

"Uhm…" Harry stuttered, "is there anything like a muggle credit card that can be linked to the account or something like that?"

"Yes, for a small fee."

"How much?"

"50 galleons."

"Oh, uhm okay then. Can I also look at my properties if I have any? I don't want to return to my muggle guardians."

Griphook handed him something similar to a credit card that was sleek black with his name engraved on it and the Gringotts seal adorning the middle of the card.

"This will be linked to your trust vault as you cannot access family vaults until you are seventeen."

The goblin also retrieved a long piece of parchment and handed it to him silently.

Lord Harry James Potter

Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor

Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter

Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverel

Skimping the part which was about his assets and shares, he looked directly to the part about properties.

Properties of House Potter

Potter Manor, Scotland (decimated, renovation needed)

Potter Cottage, Godric's Hollow (claimed as a momentum of the Ministry of Magic)

The Colonial House of Potter, Wales

Coral Cottage, Porthcurno, Cornwall

Properties of House Black

Black Manor, The New Forest, Hampshire

Black Castle, Forest of Dean

Château Noir, Paris, France

Black Island

Villa della famiglia Black (Rome, Italy)

Properties of House Peverell

Peverell Castle, Wales

Property of House Gryffindor

Gryffindor Manor, Delamere Forest

25% of Hogwarts

"What?! These are all mine?" Harry said in disbelief.

"Yes, Mr Potter. If you require a sanctuary, Gryffindor Manor would be a good place to start."

"Oh."

"…" Awkward silence.

"Uh, thanks. Oh, and can I make you my account manager for all my vaults?"

The goblin looked up, startled. "Are you sure, Mr Potter?"

"Sure."

Griphook seemed quite flustered and gratefully said, "Thank you, Mr Potter. It is not often we are graced with a customer who respects us. The goblin nation appreciates it. Is there anything we could do for you?"

"Where can I get some more questionable spellbooks? Voldemort is back and I need to be able to protect myself."

The goblin said thoughtfully, "There are family grimoires in your family vaults which cannot be accessed yet but will allow you to learn family magic which would grant you an advantage. There is also a section which would be useful in a bookshop next to Borgin and Burkes. You should also get some useful healing potions."

"How can I go to Gryffindor Manor?"

"Tap your lordship ring and think of going there. It will act as a portkey."

"Thanks!"

The goblin nodded almost solemnly and he went away. The thought of betrayal clouded his mind once again, but he was determined to prove them wrong and defeat Voldemort once and for all. They had betrayed him. Now, he lived for himself. Only himself.

Walking back into the main hall, he walked out, feeling lighter, knowing what he would do, what his purpose was.

-o-

Walking out of Gringotts and straight into Diagon Alley, he lifted his hood again and hastily walked towards the shop next to Borgin and Burkes. There was a dimly lit shop with paint peeling with bricks showing. The windows were Victorian style with heavy velvet green curtains under them. He opened the black door and walked inside cautiously.

"Hello?"

Slowly walking inside, the room suddenly seemed much bigger on the inside. Perhaps there was an extension charm in the interior? He thought curiously. The room was dimly lit with bookshelves with dozens upon dozens of extremely fancy-looking books on the shelves. It seemed creepy as hell and he shuddered.

There was a counter at the end of the room and a man was sitting imperiously behind the counter. The man either didn't notice or didn't care that he was here. Harry walked to the section labeled 'Dark Arts' and grimacing as he stepped on a loose squeaky floorboard. Staring at the myriad of books he suddenly felt a bit claustrophobic.

Looking up at the first bookcase, there was a book that instantly caught his attention. It was a heavy book that was black with an elegant silver font which read 'intimo gratus artium.' Which roughly translated to Darkest Arts, which he only knew since Granger had made them learn Latin to understand the spells better.

Rolling his eyes at the thought of the girl, sadness now completely gone, he grabbed the book and a casket of sorts suddenly materialized in the air. He yelped and dropped his book into it. There was a book right underneath called Magick Moste Evile. He shrugged and dropped it back into the casket.

He rapidly grabbed a load more books about Dark Arts and moved onto the potions section, grabbing Moste Potente Potions, knowing it would be useful from the polyjuice incident in second year and one about healing and growth potions, and walked towards the counter.

The man didn't even bat an eyelash as he said, "4,000 galleons."

Harry gaped and said, "Isn't that a bit too much?"

"Take it or leave."

A bit intimidated but knowing the books were worth the gold, he reluctantly he handed the Gringotts card to the man. The man raised his eyebrow at the name but did his business, which Harry appreciated and silently accepted the card and put it back into his pocket, almost running out of the store and back to Diagon Alley.

Lifting out a breath, he went straight to Slugs and Jiggers and grabbed a ton of ingredients for everything and rushed out as soon as he paid, with everything shrunken down and in an undetectable expanding bag.

Rushing straight to Madam Malkin's, he ordered a full wardrobe of both muggle and wizarding clothes that consisted of dark and neutral tones and had it owled to him. Casting a tempus wandlessly and realizing that two hours had already passed, and he would be discovered soon if he didn't return quickly. Cursing furiously, he ran straight to his last destination, Trunks for All.

Panting slightly, he bought the largest and safest trunk they had to offer. The salesman raised his eyebrows at it, but completely shut up and stared at his forehead when he saw the name Harry James Potter. Disgruntled at the man's antics, he snapped his fingers and the man came back to Earth, flustered and greeting him profusely, and Harry left as soon as the man started worshipping and whispering nonsense.

-o-

A/N: In case you were wondering, the converting rate between galleon to the pound is 1=7. R&R