I don't own Harry Potter, unfortunately, but I just own this storyline.
Please let me know what you think.
Stay safe, and Happy Christmas.
Harry Potter: Thinking like a Thief.
As he sat up in the sofa in his mother's flat - ever since he had discovered this gem, Harry had gone out of his way to spend as much of his time here as he possibly could, although he'd needed to keep it as secret as possible; after the mess caused by Dobby when the House-elf had stupidly come to the Dursleys, Harry had decided he hadn't given a tinker's toss about what Dumbledore would say about the Dursleys being a loving family, he was coming round here, and it was a godsend especially with that bitch Marge hanging around - Harry flicked through the pages of the Daily Prophet.
Harry hadn't had problems asking for permission from the Dursleys to escape; they hated him, and they hated having him in the same breathing space. All he had needed to do was to get them to sign a permission form so he could spend the summer away from them, so if any wizard asked, he would show it to them, and they'd accept it because guardianships were taken seriously.
They hadn't even cared to ask where he would be, or how he would support himself.
In the meantime, while he prepared to go abroad, he took the time to keep up to date with affairs in the magical world.
And he did not like what he was reading.
It was times like this he honestly wondered why he bothered with the British Magical Community, but then again he had been wondering that for a while ever since he stepped inside Hogwarts for the first time.
He had turned up, not as the meek, malleable little kid Dumbledore had wanted the whole time. He had arrived as a cynical, jaded kid who was an expert in illusions and had even used one or two of them in his own crimes, who merely wished to be left alone, but unafraid to fight for his rights. He had personally ensured Snape and McGonagall, and Dumbledore, who had between them turned Hogwarts into the farce it was today, with their idiotic policy of turning a blind eye towards bullying while Snape was allowed to do whatever he wished, whenever he wished, while Dumbledore repeated time and time again he trusted Snape while the useless bitch he was forced to call his Head of House just supported whatever the senile headmaster said without a thought.
He had fought against them and he had won, and he had contacted the Board of Governors, the Daily Prophet, and several others who were not happy with the way Dumbledore was running the hallowed school.
And again in second year, Harry had needed to fight for his rights, and he had gone behind Dumbledore's back and revealed the students were sending him death threats following that mess with the snake in the duelling club. How stupid did they think he was; if he wanted to harm the muggle-borns, did they really think he would expose his involvement? Come on, you idiots, THINK!
He had never revealed his career as a burglar in his life, why should he reveal something like that? He had become a thief out of necessity when he was growing up. The Dursley's had some truly bizarre ideas of how to deal with him - Harry couldn't understand their logic; they knew he was a wizard.
Surely it had occurred to them he would come back, and he would pay them back?
Or they had, and they abused him to ensure he would be too frightened?
Whatever it was, he had no idea.
All he knew was, he had worked out long ago, the best way to hurt someone was to find out what hurt them mentally. In the case of the Dursleys, it would be the facade they'd set up for themselves, as normal people of the community.
They knew he was showing signs of magic despite their best efforts to 'beat it out of him,' it must have occurred to them over the years, their ideas did not work - and they had locked him in the cupboard under the stairs. Sometimes they didn't feed him for days. In the end, he had made the choice, steal or die.
Not a hard choice. When he had discovered the rudiments of his powers after keeping notes of those moments of bizarre things happening, which he knew now were those moments of accidental magic coming out, Harry had found a way to harness his powers. After that, he was breaking into houses without tools, without being seen because he was willing himself to go unnoticed. Not only was he stealing money and food, but he was also getting revenge on the whole of Little Whinging. They'd believed the lies told to them by the Dursleys. They had a hand in stealing his childhood before he'd even discovered the truth.
Unfortunately, thanks to Dumbledore's subtle attempts to ensure he knew so little about the magical world for some bizarre reason, he hadn't even understood the significance behind his parseltongue ability. But, as with the previous year, Harry had fought back although thanks to Ernie Macmillan, Britain was not in the good books of Wizarding Ireland because of his slander of parseltongue, which, thanks to St. Patrick was revered. Harry hadn't revealed to the Irish what Ernie had foolishly said, but Seamus had, and he and his mother had been as furious as were the Irish.
The Irish Ministry for Magic were incandescent and astonished to find there were a number of attacks caused by the monster of Salazar Slytherin, and they'd bombarded Britain with the same questions.
Why haven't you closed the school?
Why are there petrified students?
Why haven't you sourced for a different supply of mandrakes when anything could happen to the current supply? (Harry had to admit that question was a good and valid one, and it not only highlighted the stupidity and foolish complacency of Albus Dumbledore).
Why are you allowing a boy to slander us?
Why haven't you investigated the attacks and done something about them?
The Irish wizards had made more sense than the British ones. While Harry didn't like being in the centre of the disaster, it had been good to meet wizards who had some form of brainpower. Even now, he held the memory of witnessing Albus Dumbledore trying, and failing, to reason with some Irish delegates one of the best memories he had, and it had powered his patronus charm ever since.
But what he wished was he didn't have to deal with such stupidity.
Every single year he was exposed to the stupidity of the magical world; first year, the way everyone expected him to take Snape's vitriol and thought he would grin and bear it, second year how everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, third year, how everybody believed if they hid the truth about Sirius Black from him, he would be kept safe like he didn't have the right to know how his parents had been betrayed; he had already known about Black, thanks to the goblins, who hadn't given a damn about the bizarre, illogical decisions of the Ministry.
The last year, however, had only thrown into his face just how stupid the magical world was when he was entered into the Triwizard Tournament, and how everyone had worn one of those stupid badges, at least until he had sworn a magically binding oath after spending a couple of weeks working out just who he could trust, and who he couldn't, and unfortunately, the latter list was longer than anyone would have liked or preferred, but he hadn't been concerned; thanks to Dudley and the gang of neanderthals, Harry had been cured of the idea of having friends long ago, and he had never seen Ron and Hermione as friends anyway.
But as he looked into the pages of the Daily Prophet, picking out little quotes and snide with comments, Harry reflected on his choice about what to do with the magical world now Voldemort was back, and despite Harry's best efforts, he hadn't been able to take any proof back to the magical authorities so they could prepare for the upcoming war. As a result, he was being slandered in the press. He could understand why Fudge was taking the ostrich approach to things - he knew the last war had been so devastating, so many dead and scared of the inevitable takeover - but what he couldn't understand was why Fudge was even taking such a petty step in the first place instead of just hiding the truth much as he had done with Hagrid and Black.
Harry lifted his head and smiled as he stared at his passport and the airplane ticket which would take him all the way to New York, where he would meet a representative of the MACUSA; while he wasn't enthusiastic about the thought of meeting other magical officials, it was purely a formality so he could acquire a magical visa so he could visit the country. It was just…there was so much red tape surrounding the MACUSA. He understood it once he had learnt about their history; learning the American wizards had needed to deal with a monumental breach of the Statute of Secrecy had sent shockwaves throughout their corner of magical society, so he did understand it.
While most witches and wizards used magic for everyday affairs, Harry used his own magical gifts to break into places and plunder them of money, jewellery, and fine art so he could sell it for a profit. He'd done it ever since he had discovered the rudiments of his powers, and when he had discovered his mother's own knowledge of magic on top of discovering how Dumbledore was meddling in his life and shaping it for his own purposes, along with the written statement in the letters Arabella Figg had kept in her house for some sentimental reason Harry had never worked out since anyone could have found them if he left, Dumbledore would simply send him back, wiping his memory in the process.
The scary thing was he'd already done it, several times.
He knew it.
The old fool had left too many clues behind for him not to miss, and it wasn't until he had the proficiency with the mind arts he needed to be able to undo the damage, he saw how close he had been to escaping Privet Drive.
And Harry had noted it down in a diary he had kept on him to write down plans for running away so he could plot them; the diary entries had described how he had planned the attempts more than once… and yet nothing had happened, and more baffling he had lost chunks of his memory.
Harry pushed those thoughts of that nightmare out of his head, and focused on the Daily Prophet in front of him, musing on his decision to just keep his head down and not try to convince people of Voldemort's return. He was cynical and grown-up enough to realise if the Minister wasn't going to believe him, and think he was just telling lies for attention although Harry found the logic unreasonable with this latest stunt, nobody else was going to take him seriously.
Well, this year he wasn't going to try to convince anyone. Harry had tried to persuade Fudge the man who had murdered his parents was back, but the idiotic politician hadn't believed him and now there was a smear campaign in the Daily Prophet. But it was nothing new; despite the oaths he'd made in his second and fourth years, Harry was still not believed although why he would make up Voldemort's return for attention after what the snake-faced wizard had done to him and what he'd taken from was beyond his comprehension.
"Dobby!" He called.
The House-elf popped into the living room. "Yes, Harry Potter, sir!" The little elf asked enthusiastically.
Harry smiled while he dwelled on the relationship he had with his two House-elves for a moment.
Ever since he had taken the House-elf into his service at the end of his second year, Dobby had been a godsend, especially when it came to spying and keeping him abreast of the affairs of the magical world, and when he had managed to take on Winky shortly after he'd seen for himself the state she'd been in after Crouch had fired her, he'd found himself with two incredibly loyal House-elves.
Okay, granted - Dobby had not left him with a good impression first time around with how the elf had got him in trouble with the Dursleys, but the elf had redeemed himself with getting him away from Privet Drive as soon as he'd learnt Marge was coming around after inviting herself to Number 4, with that evil mutt of hers. As soon as he'd learnt she was coming Harry escaped, unwilling to spend even five minutes never mind five seconds in the disgusting woman's company. He had needed to persuade the Dursleys to let him leave, naturally, but that was easy; with Dobby's skill in wandless magic as well as his own proficiency, it hadn't been difficult to make the Dursleys cowed enough to let him come here to the flat.
He hadn't been able to get away with the same stunt last year, unfortunately; when Ron had told him about the Quidditch World Cup, Harry had known he would be expected to go, and it was important he keep an image in order to fool Dumbledore for a little longer before he could tell the old wizard to spin on it, but thanks to his wandless magic he was able to do whatever he'd wanted and the Dursleys were simply too terrified of him to try their usual tricks with him; all he'd needed to do was deliberately explode one of the TVs and cause the lights to turn on and off, and the Dursleys were doing what he wished while at the same time he had cast doubts on that stupid St. Brutus' lie, which could have been avoided if the Dursleys had just said something different, but no they had needed to be dumb. They had spread lies about how he had been sent to a criminal institution or something stupid like that, and all he'd needed to do was use his proficiency with the mind arts to cast doubt on them.
What happened to the Dursleys as a result, Harry neither knew nor cared; it was their own fault for lying…
Anyway, once he had learnt thanks to Dobby and Winky, Dumbledore was planning on using the vigilante group his mother had described in her diaries to tackle Voldemort's original war to impose an information embargo on him while ensuring he stayed at Privet Drive, with minimal contact with the magical world, Harry had instantly planned to escape. All he'd needed to do was intimidate the Dursleys into writing a clear cut letter of permission, and a call to one of his elves… and here he was, in his flat while Dumbledore's stupid minions scratched his head. The fact he had gotten the Dursleys to write the letter was simple; for years Dumbledore had been telling him the Dursleys were his guardians, his only family, so getting a letter of permission was the ultimate slap in the face from where he was standing.
Harry was done playing Dumbledore's games, just like he was done living with the Dursleys while Ron and Hermione, the two most inept spies in the universe, were allowed to stay with his idiot of a former godfather. Now, this year… everything was going to change.
"I want you to start preparations for me to head out to America, please Dobby," he instructed the house elf.
Dobby nodded and popped away.
For the rest of the night, Harry ate some pizza - homemade after he'd told Winky and Dobby what he'd wanted them to do, so he made it for himself - while he watched a few movies while idly flicking through the history book on the MACUSA. As he read through the Rappaport laws they'd put into place following how a witch had stupidly revealed the existence of magic to someone who'd not only known of its existence but actively despised it which had resulted in one of the biggest messes under the purview of the Statute of Secrecy, which had resulted in such a massive crackdown although the American magical world had made it clear to the investigators they couldn't be sure if they'd managed to obliviate the memories of those involved - it was just….blind luck the anti-magic muggles had gone too far, and it had resulted in a mass arrest before things had gotten out of control.
The Americans had issued laws to further break away from their muggle counterparts. No witch or wizard was to have friends with muggles or marry - nothing. It was harsh, but as he looked at it closely he could understand what had made the Americans take such a radical step although it would cause problems; with that kind of environment the anti-muggle bigotry he had seen for himself in Hogwarts, and other parts of the magical world would be more strengthened in America.
Still, it wasn't his problem. In any case, Harry had the impression the Americans had a much stronger zero-tolerance policy ranging on extremely harsh towards anyone who so much as tried to do what Voldemort did with trying to take over the country…
Speaking of Dark Lords, Voldemort's predecessor Grindelwald had a massive chapter all to himself when he'd tried and failed to harness the power of an obscurial (Harry had flicked through the book before, and when he'd discovered what an obscurial was… it had made him realise just how close he himself had come to becoming one himself; the idea of the Dursleys pushing him to hate his magic to that degree while Dumbledore sat back on his laurels and did nothing until it was too late for him to sort out his mistakes), and if it wasn't for Newt Scamander using a potion with a thunderbird to wipe the memories of the muggles, the magical world would have been revealed.
Harry had no desire to get on the wrong side of the MACUSA. When he arrived in New York, and they would know he was there since he had given them prior notice, he would keep his head down at all times. He didn't like the idea of making contact with the magical authorities, but if he didn't it would cause problems he did not need, simply. In any case, there were things in America he wanted to see and experience, and he wasn't going to throw away his opportunity to visit another part of the world which he'd never done in the past thanks to the Dursleys and Dumbledore's interference.
Not this time.
This time, Harry was going to do his thing. He would visit America, and best of all he would return enriched by the experience of visiting another country. At the same time, he would just try to have some fun and maybe even make some real friends, not the spies assigned to watch him by Dumbledore, and he might pick up new skills. He already had plans of visiting Los Angeles and committing thefts of every celebrity he could find.