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Chapter 4:

Vernon greeted Harry the following morning with a growl, and then thrust a list at him. "All you're good for, useless freak. These jobs to be done today."

Harry had to fight not to cringe, but instead accepted the list, glanced at it, and said, "Certainly, Uncle Vernon. I will do the best I can to complete the jobs to your satisfaction." And he steeled himself, and said, "But today, I have to visit my bank. I was going to ask you for a lift into the city."

"Your bank?" Vernon said incredulously, and he lifted a fist.

Harry prepared to duck, but did not retreat, only said calmly, "My bank. There is a trust fund, as you know, and I can withdraw a limited amount of pocket money when I choose. You don't want to spend money on me, you have told me that, and I can perfectly understand. Of course you should not be spending money on me."

Vernon was looking at him in confusion more than anything. Harry was not acting as he was supposed to.

Not appearing to look at him, Harry carefully folded the paper with the list of jobs and put it in his pocket. He was still ready for a quick dodge if a fist came flying.

Harry looked up at him again, and said, "So, a lift please?"

Vernon said weakly, "Be ready in a half hour then."

"Certainly, Uncle Vernon."

But in the car, Vernon started acting oddly, driving automatically, and murmuring in an undertone, "Treat him sternly. Punish him when you like. Leave no marks."

It was hard to hear, and Harry had to strain to make it out, but it was repeated again and again, in a monotone. He finally asked, "Uncle Vernon, did you ever meet Albus Dumbledore?"

Vernon said quickly, "No, never."

"What did he look like?"

"Old man, wrinkles, long beard, long white hair," and he shuddered, "Puce dress. Long."

Harry grinned, "Puce, Uncle Vernon."

"Puce. A disgusting pink/purple colour. A puce dress, and I laughed at him." But then he shook his head and said, "I never met him, just that Pet told me."

Harry was puzzled, but said politely, "Thank you for the lift, Uncle Vernon. I will find my own way home."

Vernon suddenly said harshly, "Don't come home. We won't care."

"Do you think you will be punished if I don't come back?"

"Don't know." And he looked uneasily at Harry. "You had best come home."'

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Harry was thinking again how very much he needed a knowledgeable wizard. Could magic make people forget things, and maybe even make people do things they would not otherwise do? His uncle seemed reasonable one minute, and not the next. And those half-heard mutters to himself, 'Punish him, leave no marks.' Is that what he had heard? He bore no scars from his uncle's punishments, though he bore a sort of scar from the inadequate food in that he was too small for his age. Should he go to a doctor and ask? Or should he try a wizard healer? Could he trust a wizard healer not to tell Dumbledore?

But that was not urgent. Decent clothing that fit - that was urgent. And books. Lots of books. What could he find at the Diagon Alley bookshop? He hoped he would not be recognised, and maybe he should have got hold of some women's makeup in order to disguise his scar. So Muggle shopping first, maybe just a big department store. He didn't need quality, since he would only be in the Muggle world for two months of the year, but he didn't want to be conspicuous either, and going about in overly large rags made him stand out.

He had a little over thirteen pounds. That was from the Galleons left over from that trip with Hagrid nearly a whole year ago now, and traded with Dean for Muggle money, though neither of them had had much idea of the correct rate of exchange. And he had his key for his vault. Hagrid had wanted it back, that time, but luckily, he'd managed to convince him that he'd be able to keep it safe. And he wondered if there would have been someone to take him shopping this time, or if Dumbledore would simply have left him to it. Could there be someone, maybe in the bank, who might tell Dumbledore he was there? But those goblins - he bet they wouldn't be doing any favours, even for Dumbledore. Mean creatures, they looked.

He'd only been to Vernon's place of work once, when Petunia had had to pick him up, but he thought they were close. He was not prepared for the car to suddenly jerk to a halt, and a growled "Get out!" but he was quick enough to avoid the big hand that tried to push him out.

He stood back, said politely, "Thank you, Uncle Vernon," and gently shut the door, seeing Vernon shaking his head. But then, quite smoothly, the car drew back into the traffic.

Harry stood on the pavement for a moment, thinking. Vernon was acting strangely. He had to ask someone, someone who knew about magic and what could be done with magic. Meantime, if he acted unafraid and was polite, then that was when his uncle acted most reasonably. And then it was as if he remembered that he had to be mean. Surely Dumbledore had not told him to be mean to his nephew. Surely!

Harry hitched his old and battered school bag onto his shoulders, and started walking. He thought he could already see a large shopping centre not far away. Women's makeup first, and he would disguise that blessed scar, maybe with something like a flesh coloured pencil.

He was lucky. A big shopping centre, and a department store that seemed to have anything one could possibly want. And while he was appalled at the cost of women's makeup, there was a 'tester,' and he carefully drew over the zigzag scar until it was effectively invisible. Maybe no-one would recognise him. He did not want a repeat of that scene in the Leaky Cauldron, where everyone had wanted to shake his hand. At the time, he had scarcely known what it was about. That a tiny child had reflected a Death Curse back to the caster? Where were the witnesses? How did anyone know what had happened?

He put it from his mind as he tried to get as much value as he could with his seventeen pounds, winding up with one pair of jeans, two tee shirts, three pairs of socks and some undies. At least his aunt had mostly provided him with new underpants, the cheapest possible, but a lot better than wearing Dudley's old underpants. But that was before he had been exposed as a wizard. He didn't know whether she had had any intention of ever spending money on him again. If he was lucky, she wouldn't have to - just as long as he struck no problems accessing his money.

When he entered the bank, Harry followed his new policy of putting on a calm air, even when he was terrified underneath. The goblin he approached treated him with scant courtesy, no helpfulness, but did everything requested, not even questioning that he requested, not that he had monthly statements sent to himself rather than to Dumbledore, but that he wanted duplicate statements, Dumbledore not to be advised. That was a risky request, he felt, but the more he thought about it, the less he wanted Dumbledore to know that he was taking some independent action.

And the galleon to pounds exchange rate seemed very generous. He could buy a lot more clothing now, and with plenty left for books and whatever else he wanted in school supplies. And he'd treat himself to a generous lunch, the treat of fast food, which he so seldom had. Plus a very large ice-cream. He had bitter memories of Dudley being given ice-creams while he missed out.

By the time he was ready to return to Privet Drive, his old school bag was bulging with several books, and more clothing. He had his fingers crossed that it would hold. That was another thing he needed, a new school bag. Maybe Dudley had an old one he could have. He'd always had a new one each year, good quality, too.

A train, a bus, and a bit of walking - in a new pair of runners, new thick socks - and he slipped quietly into his home. He was unpacked before Petunia called, "Is that you, Harry?"

Harry quickly looked out, and said, "Yes, Aunt Petunia. I was just about to make myself some tea. Would you like some?"

As Vernon had, Petunia looked confused for a moment, and then she nodded. "Yes, please. In the lounge room."

Harry served her on a tray, a cup of tea the way she liked it, and two biscuits arranged on a plate.

Petunia looked at the tray suspiciously, and said, "What about those jobs?"

Harry smiled at her and patted his pocket. "I have the list here, and will start on them shortly." And then he went into the kitchen where he had set himself a place and had his own tea and biscuits. He was feeling pleased with himself. It really seemed to be working. Dudley hadn't touched him, there had been almost no insults, and only Vernon seemed irrational. There was no nagging emptiness in his belly, and there were no bruises, not even from that light punch from Dud. It was going far better than he could have imagined.

But then he went out and started on the annual job of dusting and cleaning in the garage, Vernon's collections of drills, impeccably laid out, other tools, seldom used, but Vernon liked them dust-free. And when Vernon drove in, home from work, he just glanced at him and gave a grunt. Harry assumed it was approval since it came with no insults and nothing worse.

He cooked dinner that evening, under Petunia's occasional supervision, and she said nothing at all when he set himself a place in the kitchen, and then portioned the meals, large for Vernon and Dudley, medium for himself and for Petunia. There was a dessert, but by the time that Petunia was organising three bowls of apple pie with cream, he was already washing up. There was no point in pushing things too much, and he didn't need a dessert every day as the others apparently did, even Petunia.

The next days were similar. He did the jobs, managed to defuse beginning aggression whenever it appeared, and purchased more clothing and his own makeup to disguise the scar, what was apparently called 'foundation' and 'concealer.' He even found a wig, light brown and straggly, discovered in a fancy dress place for kids. But once trimmed and combed, it would pass. He studied the books he had bought, and he wrote a letter to the one person he thought he could probably trust. Nicholas Flamel owed him a favour. At the last moment, he changed the address, though, to Perenelle and Nicholas Flamel. After all, the wife would have been just as affected as the man when their supply of the anti-ageing potion ran out. And maybe a woman might be more inclined to have some sympathy for an orphan.

xxx

Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel seldom took notice of the occasional post owl that made it past the wards, but Perenelle exclaimed, "What a beautiful owl," and stroked Hedwig and then found her a treat and suggested she might like a rest. Her own Horned Owl, Vincent, looked at the white owl with distinct interest and shuffled closer to her, making soft crooning noises. Hedwig fluffed up her feathers and shook herself. It was raining outside. She did not respond to the advances. She was in no mood, quite tired after the long trip to the Scottish Highlands, where the Flamels were enjoying the beauty and indulging in some pony trekking - when the weather allowed. It was summer; they felt a little aggrieved that the weather had not been better, and Nicholas had been talking about moving on.

If she hadn't been bored, Perenelle would never have bothered reading the letter. It would only be another request for an interview, or someone wanting to study potions with them, (but really wanting to steal the stone) or even, very occasionally, someone with the audacity to ask for money since the philosopher's stone was supposed to be able to make gold and therefore they were assumed to have unlimited money.

But the Flamels' wealth was from their patented potions, many used for generations, and their guidebooks, different versions for the Muggle and the Magical worlds. They'd had all the time they needed to explore. They had seen the beautiful places and those not so beautiful. They had seen the primitive and the dangerous places. There had been times when only their magic had saved them.

But she was bored, and she did read the letter.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Flamel,

My name is Harry Potter. I was the one who stopped Voldemort taking your Philosopher's Stone, though Albus Dumbledore probably didn't tell you that. In return for this favour, I was hoping you could answer a few questions as I don't know any wizards who would answer me honestly. Please do not tell Dumbledore that I wrote.

1. Please tell me if magic can make a person act in a way that he would not otherwise do. And can it make people forget? This is because I think that someone has instructed my uncle to treat me badly. He has always treated me badly, but now it is like he is fighting it. Sometimes he is reasonable, and then he seems full of rage, but if I do something unexpected, he just looks confused. And once he was muttering something like: 'Punish him, don't leave marks.' (My uncle and aunt are Muggles and I have to live with them.)

2. I was told that Voldemort killed my parents and then aimed a Death Curse at me that backfired. But it doesn't make sense. If my parents were dead, how would anyone know what happened? How come I have a scar on my forehead that is supposed to be the sign of a Death Curse if no-one before has survived one? How would anyone know? I wanted to think it was just an ordinary scar, but sometimes it hurts, and that seems to have something to do with when Voldemort is close.

3. Voldemort. Dumbledore said he was alive still, in spirit form. And that seems to be true, because I saw him. But Dumbledore said he could come back properly and then he'd be as powerful as he was before. Do you know whether that could be true?

4. He also told me he is a Monster who likes to torture children, like stripping out insides inch by inch, or removing skin, bit by bit. He scared me silly, but when I thought about it, I wondered whether he was telling the truth. Do you know? And he said he had Death Eaters that would want me dead, and that is why I had to go back to my aunt and uncle even when I wanted to go to an orphanage instead. I don't think I am really in danger, (except for my uncle, maybe.) But I don't want to be silly, either.

5. When Quirrell, who was possessed by Voldemort, touched me, he was burnt. Dumbledore told me that it was because my mother had loved me so deeply, and therefore something evil could not touch me. But that sounds like baloney to me, and in any case, if I had any protection like that, surely others who have attacked me, should also have felt something. What do you think?

And that's all. Please do not tell Dumbledore. Even if you are too busy to answer, please do not tell Dumbledore.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter.

Perenelle carefully folded the letter and put it away, ignoring the curiosity of her husband. She knew Nick; he'd only say again that it was best they avoid involvement in current events. That way, they didn't rouse envy and the consequent hostility. But here was a boy alone, an orphan, and it seemed that there was no-one at all whom he trusted. She supposed she should show Nicholas since it was addressed to them both, but only after she had made a copy in case he immediately vanished it. She felt more interested than she had felt in anything for many years, since Grindelwald in fact.

The beautiful Snowy Owl was still there, now sitting on the wide perch right next to Vincent.

She read it again, privately. Yes, she would answer the boy. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. She knew the story, of course, but had never known how much to believe. And how, if Voldemort had really been stripped from his body, had there been no corpse left? Bodies did not just vanish. And what had happened to his wand? The child was only eleven. It showed courage that he was questioning what he had undoubtedly been told all his life. That his uncle had been influenced to treat him badly? It was possible, of course. Maybe one of Voldemort's followers had done it for revenge? That was all she could think of.

She started a reply:

Thank you for your help in keeping the stone safe. We are very grateful. As you suspected, Albus Dumbledore did not tell us of your involvement, and I would like you to tell me more, please.

Your questions:

1. Yes, there is magic that can make a person act in a way that they would not otherwise do. There is the 'Imperius' Curse, which is one of the three curses that would instantly condemn a person to Azkaban for life. They call them the Unforgivables. But the Imperius Curse requires the close supervision of the spell caster. A more likely spell that could be used is a 'Pendreiya.' That is an instruction instilled with hypnosis, but laced with magic to make it stick. To make a person forget something, the Obliviation spell would be used. That is a spell routinely used by the Ministry of Magic when Muggles accidentally witness magic. Its use is strictly limited by the Ministry, and no ordinary wizard should ever need to use it.

2. I don't know what happened when Voldemort came for you, and was somehow defeated. Like you, I think that the story does not quite make sense.

3. Voldemort. It is possible he could be alive in spirit form, but as long as he remains a spirit, he cannot cause much harm. There are ways he could regain a body, but only if he has help. I cannot think of a way he could do it without help.

4. Voldemort was a bad man, who did use torture on occasion. He was leader of what was beginning to be a Civil War within wizardkind, Voldemort with around a quarter of the pure-blood faction on one side, and Dumbledore and the Ministry on the other. That does not mean that Dumbledore is a good man, and I think you are quite right not to trust him. I doubt that you are in much danger now, but you should still take care.

5. You said that Dumbledore told you that Quirrell could not touch you because of your mother's love. That sounds like baloney to me, as well. From the little you have told me, I think the most likely explanation is that your own power protected you in what is commonly known as 'accidental magic' that small children use. If that was the case, it may be that you are developing into an unusually powerful wizard, and one who might be able to master wandless magic. The Ministry cannot monitor magic that is used without a wand. You might find that useful to know, as they are very strict about underage magic. Children can be expelled and their wands broken if they disregard the laws about using magic on Muggles and using magic when out of school.

Also, Harry, I would be very interested to hear more about the incident with Quirrell, and also about your life under the thumb of your uncle and aunt. Are they really Muggles? If they are, it is quite unsuitable for you.

Yours sincerely,

Perenelle Flamel.

But when she showed Nicholas, he was very annoyed. "You know it's better we don't get involved with such things! And it's the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and all that nonsense. People idolise him. If we were seen to be interfering..."

Perenelle snapped, "Sometimes, the only right thing to do is to interfere!"

And the couple wound up having the biggest row they'd had in the last three centuries.

The letters were forgotten for the next couple of weeks, both the one from Harry and the reply.

xxx