Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters, places et al. are owned by J.K. Rowling
A/N: slightly larger than I expected it to be, but it wraps up quite a bit of time. Hope it istn't too tedious...
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The cab stopped in front of the Savoy.
Harry was stunned to see it in reality, with his own eyes. It was very noble, very classy, and very pricy from the look of it.
Once again, his choice of clothing seemed to be a serious disadvantage. The concierge looked as if he was some sort of beggar. But he made it up with demeanour. He strode past him into the main hall as if he owned it, his trunk and birdcage in tow behind him.
He came to a halt at the reception. A snotty young man with dirt-blond hair, no older than 20 he guessed, looked down on him and seemed to hide a very haughty sneer on his face. "Are you looking for someone?" he asked in an incredibly posh voice.
"No," Harry answered in a crystal clear voice as haughty as he could manage, "I am looking for a suite and wondered if there was one available."
"Are you now?" he receptionist scoffed. "I am certain you'll find a youth hostel to be more to your liking..."
"No," he stated. "I would prefer to stay here."
"Boy, it is expensive here. Your mom and dad certainly won't like you spend so much money," he managed to chuckle without actually chuckling. A stunning feat.
"My parents are both dead, but thanks for reminding me," he icily answered. "And you will find that I can very well afford any accommodation." He pulled out his envelope and took some bills out of it.
The raised eyebrow and the gleam in the eyes of the boy assured Harry that he had won. Greed, a very useful trait...
"Ah," the receptionist said, his voice now warm with friendliness, "as luck would have it, we have a very pleasant suite ready."
"Why, thank you," Harry smiled at him. "I will take it then. If you could please arrange for my belongings to be brought into the suite?"
"Of course, Mr...?"
He thought for a split second. Potter would be too obvious, if anyone came looking for him. Evans was only slightly less obvious. What about...
"Riddle, Harry Riddle," he answered with a very wicked smile that sent visible shivers down the receptionist.
He typed something into the computer, and then handed him a sheet of paper. "If you could please sign here?" he pointed towards a dotted line at the bottom of the paper.
Harry signed it and handed it back to him. With a quick movement of his hand, he placed a 50-pound bill under it as he handed it back. The surprised look on the receptionist as he found out was worth it. If possible, his smile got even friendlier. "If you need anything, just call for Duncan."
"I will," he smiled.
###
Harry yawned and stretched on his huge bed. He crawled out of it and dressed in some trousers and a t-shirt.He heard a knock on the door, and with a raspy "Come!" his breakfast was rolled into the living room of his suite. Giving a rather large tip, the waiter left and Harry hungrily attacked his breakfast.
The last week, he though in retrospect, went quite well, despite his fears. The suite was incredibly luxurious, and room service was too good to be true. House elves might have been a tad better, but he settled for this.
Money, he came to think, wasn't as bad as he initially made it to be. He still resented all the money he got from other people dying, but if it helped him in his fight it could actually do something good. And given enough...enticement, people would do almost anything for it.
Another thing he realised was that having to haul cash around him all the time wasn't very clever, so he went to a bank and opened an account. At first, they ignored him and went all haughty on him. But as soon as they realised that he was really loaded, they nearly drowned him in niceties and personal assistants.
On his second day in the hotel, Hedwig brought two letters. One was from Dumbledore.
Dear Harry,
I must thank you for your letter. Your departure certainly had us
worried. Even though I think it is unwise, I will respect your wishes.
The last weeks and months have indeed been hard on yourself, much
harder than anyone would expect to bear in your age. And I must admit
no small part of it was due to me and my refusal to accept your
growing maturity...
I have faith that you will make the right decisions in the end,
Best Wishes,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S.: I know it is still some time to the beginning of school, but I
have attached the list of books and equipment you'll need in the new
school year.
Well, well, well... That worked as he had planned. Gryffindor ethics could be so easily fooled...
The other letter was less...pleasant.
It was from Ron and Hermione. He still felt the anger rise in his heart as he thought about it. They just didn't understand. Their little minds, in their little world...
...Irresponsible...foolish...listen to Professor Dumbledore...everyone is disappointed... It went on and on.
No 'We understand you Harry and wish the best'; no 'we are your friends'. He banished the thoughts from his head before he got angry again...
For the most part of the past week, he had stayed 'at home' and did something astonishing: he learned.
His new determination, his will to fight until the end, made him change that as well. Knowledge was needed to defeat the Voldemort. And the only way to get it was to learn. There was no way around it, and he chocked down his resentment.
His books, quills, rolls of parchment, and other things were strewn out on the large dining table. He found out, that once he was undisturbed and alone, he actually was a quick learner. Which meant he was nearly through all his school books and had written all his homework essays, even a tedious two-foot essay for Professor Snape about some obscure shape shifting potion. He was really surprised as he finished it at a good length of three feet. Of course, he wasn't expecting any good marks to come his way for it, but one never knew...
Much to his chagrin, though, the schoolbooks weren't all that helpful. Sure, they taught him the basics, but he didn't think Voldemort was shuddering with fear when he heard that Harry Potter had the knowledge of intelligence potions and insect transfigurations at his disposal...
No, he needed new books, with the real knowledge, powerful spells. Things he would need in a fight for his life. This also meant he had to go back to Diagon Alley to get them.
He sighed and toddled into the bathroom.
He was greeted by a very sleazy looking young boy. He had slight rings under his eyes from his long nights, and his hair was all greasy, like a short-haired version of Snape.
So far, he had ignored his looks. But he came to the decision that it would have to change, as well. Maybe it reminded him of his old self, the one he was trying to leave behind. He wasn't sure, but if he was to die at the hands of the Dark Lord, at least he could die looking good.
He had to laugh at himself. Here he was, the Boy-Who-Lived, thinking about his looks...
After he thought about what to do, he went out and into the city.
Clothes were his first priority. He really didn't look too good in Dudley's old hand-me-downs and second-hand clothes.
Shopping was a mixed experience. Like everywhere else, they were eyeing him suspiciously as he entered the various shops. But as soon as he waved with his money, the damns broke. After what seemed like days of shopping, he had several outfits for all occasions, from Hugo Boss, Armani, and some others he really liked.
As several shop assistants told him, he should go for a classic elegance in style, and so he did. They also found out that black was really his colour, and so all his clothes now where either black, or of darker colours. Nothing shiny or outright bright.
He wore on of his new outfits, a black jeans, a dark green button-down shirt and a black baseball cap he pulled deep down to hide his face; the rest he had transported to his suite, as he wasn't feeling like carrying it all himself.
It was crazy, but he already felt different. He wasn't sure. Free, unchained? All he knew was that it felt better.
Next stop was an optician. He wanted to change completely, and his glasses were among the most prominent signs of himself, except the scar, of course. With his new clothes, he didn't have to wave his money at people to get them to tend him, too. He bought several sets of contact lenses, and two rimless glasses with thin, edgy glasses, totally unlike his former round glasses.
And now to the tough part. Diagon Alley. He sighed.
He casually strolled through the streets of London, taking in the sun and people around him. Normal people, no one cared nor knew who he was. It was so refreshing...
When he finally stood in front of the Leaky Cauldron, he gathered himself and made sure his scar was well hidden under his hair mop and the cap and entered it.
Today looked like a busy day. It was bustling with wizards and witches, chatting avidly with themselves. But one looked at him twice.
He walked towards the gateway without slowing down, and soon was in the Alley. It, too, was bustling with people. He quickly scanned the crowed and luckily he didn't make out someone familiar.
He quickly made his way to Flourish & Blotts and dived into their trove of knowledge. Digging through the vast amounts of books, he found some very interesting ones. Spells O' Power And How To Use Them by Diara Chressy, Advanced Spells For The Eager Wizard by Hiarat Tshul, and 101 Powerful Defenses by Sarah Lystrom were among the most promising books.
All in all, he lugged over thirty books, including his schoolbooks for next year, to the check-out. The cashier looked at him curiously as if she remembered him, but then shook her head, and went on. She gave him a bottomless bag to carry it all with him and he left the store before she had time to concentrate on where she knew him from.
The visit to Madam Malkin's had him worried the most. He tried to keep his stay there as short as humanly possible. Still it took almost one hour until he had chosen on some new, tailored robes and school outfits. His new outfits would sent Ron into fits of jealousy, he was sure...
He paid an extra fifty percent to have them made on the spot so he could take them with him and not to have to wait for hours.
He rushed through several other shops afterwards, getting his other necessities for the next year and some other things he thought useful.
And suddenly, he stood in front of the entrance to Knockturn Alley.
He shivered. He didn't know what led him here, but some part of him made him come. It was a place of Dark magic, but why should he limit himself to light and friendly magic? Surely Voldemort had no problems using it on him, and somehow he was sure that all those Defense against the Dark Arts books left out some details and useful information. Maybe it was better to look at the source, the real deal? Isn't it best to fight fire with fire?
If his 'friends' could see him now... They would possibly wet their pants right now.
The next Dark Lord, I knew it! he heard Ron in his mind. He snickered.
He came across a smaller shop with several books on display, along with obscure machineries and some ugly looking animals which spiked his interest. He opened the door and went in.
It was a shadowy place and the dust of what felt like aeons lay on the furniture and shelves.
"Can I help you?" a husky voice said from the darkness startled him and he yelped with shock as he nearly jumped into a shelf.
An ancient witch stepped out of the shadows, a friendly smile on her face. She made Dumbledore look young and fresh in comparison, her eyes a very dark brown and sunken deep in her face...
"Oh, I'm sorry if I surprised you. I always forget my manners..."
"Eh, yeah," he stammered. "I...I'm looking for things...books, I won't get in Diagon Alley..."
"Oh, I have many things..." she smiled.
"I am interested in...books about the Dark Arts..." he almost whispered.
"A yes..." she eyed him for what felt like an eternity. Then suddenly her face lit up as if something she saw in him made her trust him. "Yes, I can help you there, just give me a minute..." she said and went back into the shadows behind her desk.
After several minutes, she emerged again from her shadowy realm, carrying a large stack of books. They were all looking dark and dangerous, many plain black, or embellished with runes, some with gruesome moving scenes...
"Here, young boy, I hope you'll like them..." she rasped and shoved them over the desk.
Harry looked at them and they were indeed dark. Very dark. His hand slightly shivered as he was to touch the first one. The dark aura was almost tangible. He bit down his fears and hesitation and grabbed the first one. I need to know! The 101 Most Painful Spells; Dark Arts – An Exhaustive Overview was the next he took a look at. They all sounded very dangerous.
"I'll take the lot," he said, his voice now firm and determined. "A pity I can't practise undetected..."
"Undetected?" a snicker emerged from her tiny mouth. "Let me check, I might be able to help you there..." She went back into her back store and returned after a few seconds. She put a small vial on the desk.
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"A powerful potion, very few know about it or can brew it. It let's you do magic without anyone detecting it, even the ministry. Just a few drops on your wand and you'll be safe for several hours... But it is very expensive, my young friend."
That would be perfect! He could practise, and wouldn't be expelled by Hogwarts for underage wizardry.
"I take it."
"Very well," she said. He paid for it, it was a rather prohibitive bill, and put it all away in his bottomless bag. Useful invention, really.
Just as he was to leave the store, he heard a whisper. It called for him. Master? it seemed to whisper.
He flipped around and looked into eyes so green they were almost glowing in the dark.
"Who is there?" he said towards the eyes. He walked slowly towards them, they were glowing, calling to him.
"Careful!" the old witch cried out. "This is very dangerous!"
"Huh?" Harry managed to say.
"This is a very dangerous creature. A Chinese obsidian snake. They're terribly poisonous, and very rare. Very few people live to tell about them, and even fewer manage to capture one. They're even rumoured to have some magical abilities..."
Harry barely heard her as he was mesmerized by the eyes.
Are you my master? he heard her say. I could be, if you want, he answered her in parseltounge, oblivious to the sudden shocked deep breath the witch took besides him.
Yes, I want a master again...
Harry's hand reached out without fear or hesitation and she slithered up his arm until her head rested on his shoulder. Her dark black hide, so black it seemed like liquid black oil, felt refreshingly cold against his skin. She was beautiful, without a single imperfection and nearly three feet long.
What is your name? he asked the snake.
Chien-Liu, she whispered in his ear. Suddenly aware of the witch besides him again, he looked her into her wide open eyes.
"I'll take the snake, as well. How much?"
"500-500 galleons," she stammered. He paid her, and left the shop.
The old witch kept standing there, mouth gaping open, even after Harry was well on his way home.
Hiding Chien-Liu in his bag, he made his way back to his home and immediately went to his suite. He was beaming from ear to ear.
He felt like a completely new person, and couldn't wait to start reading his books...
###
Harry was woken by the first rays of the sun and nearly flowed out of his bed.
The weeks had flown past and it was now only a day before the school would start again.
He went into the bathroom and smiled at what he saw.
Besides reading, reading, and reading some more, he had also started working on his body.
Six days of the week, he would get up, eat something, and then did his Tai- Chi exercises, which his fitness trainer had recommended for him. He had soon found out that it did not only calm him down, it also concentrated his mind and though he couldn't specify it, his magic felt...stronger...
Until late afternoon, he would spend studying his books and practising some with his wand – the potion really did work perfectly – and then would go in the gym for two or three hours.
It had been tedious, painful, but it also paid off.
He wasn't the scrawny, slightly geekish boy he was weeks earlier. After another growth spurt, he now stood slightly less than six feet, and had gained several pounds of muscles, even forming a solid six-pack he was very proud of, though he had to admit that without some magical help his muscles wouldn't have reacted just as eagerly to his training as they did.
His hair, which had grown to his shoulders with the help of a hair-grow potion was now a thick, slightly curly mane, framing his face perfectly.
And without the glasses, his eyes stood out even more.
All in all, he now was what he heard people call a 'hunk'.
He knew spells and curses he hadn't even heard before, knew things that would send Ron into spasms of fear...
He was as far away from 'Old' Harry as physically possible. He doubted anyone would recognize him now...
He was ready for whatever the world could throw at him...
When it was time, he called for a cab and had his expanded belongings brought down. He even had had to buy a second trunk to take all things with him.
He waved the receptionists good-bye and left the Savoy with a smile on his face.
He got into the cab and drove to King's Cross Station. It would be a very interesting meeting at the platform.
He chuckled, without a trace of the old Harry.