Between Thought and Reality

by MaeglinYedi

Harry dies as a 25-year-old Auror who's grown to hate his own life and wakes up in 1942 in the wrong body: that of a 15 year old muggleborn Ravenclaw student. He encounters an old enemy, and surprise, it's not Tom Riddle. All Harry has to do now is survive long enough to make a life for himself that's worth living. Harry/Tom.

2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Yeah, no, Harry had no time to think about bloody Tom Riddle being alive and well. Not yet, at least. He still had the whole summer to come up with something of a plan to deal with his prophesized enemy. Right now he needed to get his life as Harriet Hubble organized.

First thing he needed to fix was the charm that prevented him from performing magic as an underage person. Harry pulled Harriet's Hogwarts trunk from the built-in closet and rummaged through it until he found her potions supplies. Harriet was quite talented at potions and kept a neat collection of ingredients, and Harry heaved a huge sigh of relief when he realized there were enough of the right ingredients to brew a quick aging potion.

First things first, he needed to get dressed before Harriet's mother really got suspicious of why her daughter was suddenly acting against character.

Thanks to Harriet's memories, Harry had no problem locating the bathroom and he pulled the nightgown over his head and stared at his new body in the mirror over the sink.

Harriet wasn't a knock-out beauty, perhaps, but she was quite pretty in her own right, Harry decided. Her face was round, with a delicate little nose and nicely shaped lips. Her eyes were large and green, and her hair dark.

In fact, there was something of a resemblance with Harry's old face. Not enough to be counted as siblings perhaps, but they could pass as cousins without a problem. Harriet's long hair, that she always kept in a simple braid down her back, was more of a deep, dark brown than Harry's pure black hair had been. And Harriet's green eyes were a shade lighter than Harry's original ones. Harriet had her father's eyes. Martin Hubble was a ginger, though his hair was more of a reddish blond than the deep red of the Weasleys, and his eyes had the exact same shade of pale green as Harriet's.

Harriet's breasts were very nice, and Harry couldn't resist running his hands across them a few times, pinching the nipples, until he remembered that he was a 25-year-old man fondling the body of a 15-year-old girl and then he quickly drew his hands back and shuddered. But moments after that he remembered that he wasn't a 25-year-old man anymore. He was a 15-year-old girl, so perhaps feeling up his own body was fine?

Ugh. Body swaps were a fucking nightmare, and unfortunately nothing in Harry's extensive Auror training had prepared him for this kind of situation.

Harry simply decided to ignore the whole gender change for now. He pulled down his pink knickers, sat down on the toilet and peed. It was a decidedly strange activity to do without a penis, but Harry firmly ignored that as well.

Thankfully, the Hubbles were quite well off, and their home had all the modern amenities that were available in the 1940s, such as running hot and cold water and an indoor toilet. There was no toilet paper, however, only a small basket with strips of torn up newspaper. Harry stared at it for a moment until he remembered that they were in fact living in the middle of a war and paper was heavily regulated and certainly wouldn't be waisted on wiping people's arses with, so old bits of newspaper it was. Harry was happy to note that the newspaper was made of a softer kind of paper than he was used to in the future and that wiping with it wasn't a hardship at all.

Harry still firmly ignored his lack of penis. He had more important things to deal with. He quickly washed his face and body with a washcloth and the only bar of soap available, brushed his teeth with a jar of tooth powder that hardly had any flavour at all, and then hurried back to Harriet's bedroom to get dressed.

As he stood in front of Harriet's wardrobe, he was in for a bit of a surprise. Harriet had been a very big fan of skirts. Most women in that time wore skirts and dresses exclusively, but there were trousers available for women in certain jobs. Harry remembered that Edith, Harriet's older sister had gleefully sown a few sturdy trousers for herself once she was accepted in the Women's Land Army.

Ah, fuck it. Harry had dealt with much crazier shit in his life, after all. So while he squared his shoulders, Harry wrestled his new body into a bra and a pair of white knickers and then got dressed in a blue, knee-length skirt and a pastel yellow blouse with short sleeves. It was the summer after all. He completed the whole thing with some white cotton socks and black flats.

There, that should do. His priority now was an aging potion.

The trace, which was placed on all Hogwarts students the moment they entered the castle every year they attended, automatically broke when a person turned 17. The way to get it to break early was to fool it that the person had turned 17, and Harry knew this could be accomplished by a simple aging potion. Of course, no one told the Hogwarts students this, but for most adults this was an open secret they learned the moment they finished school and other adults told them.

Harry took Harriet's cauldron and the necessary ingredients down to the kitchen with him and set it on the still warm coal stove. Evelyn had left a bowl of oatmeal in the oven for Harriet, which Harry ate quickly as he lay out the ingredients he needed.

As it turned out, Harry was quite good at potions once he no longer had Snape looming over his shoulder or Malfoy throwing stuff into his cauldron. On top of that, Harry had successfully sat his NEWTs, potions included. Kingsley had been happy to give him and Ron a chance to start Auror training early, but they were told immediately that they were expected to sit their NEWTs at the first opportunity. Harry had grumbled and complained, as had Ron, but they had eventually applied themselves and they'd both received their NEWTs in transfiguration, potions, charms, herbology and defence almost a year after starting Auror training. Some years later Harry had, on his own, decided to study runes and arithmancy as well, since it came back often in his line of work when they were taking down wards or breaking curses. Hermione had been more than happy to help get him started, but once Harry understood the basics he was able to study on his own and sit both his OWLs and NEWTs for those two subjects as well.

So brewing a simple aging potion wasn't a problem for Harry at all. While the potion simmered, Harry took care of a few chores he knew Harriet was expected to perform, like doing the dishes and sweeping the floors.

Harry downed the potion and didn't notice much of a change in his new body. It didn't grow much in any direction, but once he looked in the mirror he did notice that his face had lost some of its childish roundness and looked a bit more mature, but that was it, really. The effects would only last a few hours, since Harry had brewed the potion at half strength. He only needed to be 17 for a brief moment to get the result he wanted.

And now to see if he'd managed to break the trace. Harry pulled out Harriet's wand and summoned a nearby dishcloth. A summoning charm could be easily explained away as a Hogwarts student forgetting they were home again and automatically using a charm in their daily lives by accident. Harry assumed an aging potion would break the trace even in the past, but one never knew if things were different in the 1940s.

But as Harry took care of a few more chores, like polishing the coal stove and collecting all dirty linens to put outside for the washing woman to collect, no letter came from the Ministry to tell Harriet Hubble she'd been a naughty girl.

Harry released a deep, relieved sigh. Now he could use magic and he could set his new life up. He needed a few things, such as some money and a safehouse. Thankfully, Harry had a few ideas how to get both without breaking too many laws.

Harriet knew where her mother kept an emergency stash of cash, and Harry dug around in Evelyn's sewing basket until he found the small wallet that held twenty or so one pound notes. Harry wasn't familiar with the exact rate of inflation, but he did know that 20 pounds in the 1940s translated to at least 500 pounds in the 2000s, if not more. Of course, Harry had every intention of paying Evelyn back the money he took as soon as possible.

There was a rather pressing matter Harry had to take care of, though. Thanks to that monster Mulciber, Harry's new body might have had unprotected sex within the last week. Harriet had woken up halfway through the act and had no idea if Mulciber had cast any protection charms. The last thing Harry needed was an unwanted pregnancy. Thankfully there was a simple potion one could take up to two weeks after the sex had taken place, that would painlessly take care of the problem. But it required a few obscure ingredients that an average Hogwarts student didn't keep in their kit, so Harry needed to visit Knockturn Alley, where they didn't ask their customers annoying questions.

Besides that, Harry wanted to brew a few standard healing potions, and he was going to stock up on bezoars.

Not making that mistake ever again.

As Harry put away Harriet's potions supplies in her trunk, he realized that there were quite a few potions that weren't invented yet in that day and age. Harry sat back on his arse in the middle of Harriet's room, staring at the wall while his mouth dropped open.

This was a way to secure his financial future in the long run, wasn't it? Just 'invent' a new potion every couple of years until he ran out of recipes from the future. New potions came with exclusivity rights that lasted 20 years. During that time a potioneer could keep the recipe to themselves and exclusively brew the potion either by setting up their own potions company, or by leasing the recipe to an existing company and earning a nice little commission for every sale.

And Harry knew a few potions that held global appeal, such as the modern blood-replenishing potion that wouldn't be invented until the seventies, and even the hangover cure that Harry used so frequently wouldn't be invented until the sixties.

Fuck. Harry was sitting on a goldmine, as long as he didn't mind stealing other people's ideas.

Maybe, once upon a time, naïve little Gryffindor Harry would have objected to the idea of passing off other people's potions as his own, but mature Auror Harry, who had ended up hating his fucking life and most of the wizarding world along with it, couldn't really be bothered by that idea.

Anyway, the whole point wasn't even up for consideration yet, anyway, because Harry had to wait until he finished Hogwarts before introducing any new potions to the world. Doing so while still a Hogwarts student would draw far too much attention to himself that Harry desperately wanted to avoid.

Because that was something Harry now realized. He had anonymity. For the first time ever, Harry was a complete nobody. He wasn't on anyone's radar, except for a few Slytherins and Ravenclaws who enjoyed bullying poor Harriet. But Harry seriously doubted that even Konrad Mulciber, poor Harriet's rapist, actually knew her name. All they saw her as was a Ravenclaw mudblood, someone barely even human to begin with.

Harry understood all too well that this anonymity was his greatest strength, because no matter what shady shit he ended up doing, no one would suspect Harriet Hubble, the quiet, lonely Ravenclaw muggleborn.

First things first, though, Harry needed to ensure Mulciber hadn't left any surprises inside his new body. Harry got up from the floor and grabbed Harriet's Hogwarts winter cloak, which he transfigured into a lighter, stormy grey cloak with a large hood which would hide his features. Harry didn't want anyone to wonder why a Ravenclaw muggleborn was visiting apothecaries in Knockturn Alley.

Drawing the cloak around himself, Harry apparated to Diagon Alley. Harriet's wand was made of Cyprus wood with a phoenix feather core and Mr Ollivander had looked quite surprised that mousy little Harriet had matched with that specific wand. Perhaps Harry was fated to replace poor Harriet and that's why she'd ended up with a wand that represented death and rebirth in such an obvious way.

Diagon Alley wasn't very crowded this early in the summer, and Harry hurried his way through the alley while he kept his head down. He briefly stopped at Gringotts to exchange his muggle pounds into galleons before turning left towards the shadowy corner that housed the more questionable parts of wizarding society. Right before entering Knockturn Alley Harry threw up his hood and rushed straight to the apothecary. The clerk behind the counter barely paid him any attention while Harry collected all the ingredients he needed for the pregnancy prevention potion, and a few more healing potions he wanted to keep on hand. He also bought five bezoars, but even that didn't bother the clerk.

Harry briefly apparated back to Harriet's house to pick up her brewing supplies before he apparated to Murder Cottage.

It was an abandoned muggle cottage that was part of a larger estate a town over. It was situated on the back of the estate, hidden by a few rolling green hills and a small piece of woodland. Rumour had it that the cottage was haunted because some hundred years ago a man had murdered his wife and her lover there when he caught them fucking. Harry had no clue if any of this was true, but if there were any ghosts hanging around the place Harry would simply talk to them. If they proved hostile, Harry could always exorcise them. But for now Murder Cottage would do as a hidden place where Harry could brew his potions in peace without having to explain what he was doing to Harriet's parents.

Harry cast a few quick muggle repelling wards, plus some simple privacy wards, and then inspected the cottage. It was in decent enough shape considering that it had reportedly sat abandoned for a century. Most windows were broken, since the local kids liked to throw rocks at the cottage to prove how brave they were to taunt the ghosts that haunted the place. Harry had memories of Harriet and her siblings doing the same on more than one occasion. But aside from that the outside of the white cottage was intact, and the inside, while a mess of dust and rocks, was easily fixed up.

But that had to wait for later. Harry knew he wanted to brew the pregnancy prevention potion first thing, because until he took it he wouldn't be able to relax and really think about any future plans.

Brewing it didn't take more than half an hour and once the potion was bubbling away, Harry sorted through the rest of the ingredients he'd bought, putting them away in Harriet's collection. It was Bill who had taken Ron and Harry aside at some point during the summer after the final battle and had made them memorize the recipe for this potion, along with a few others dealing with sex and human reproduction. He'd even tested them and everything, explaining that any witch or wizard should know those kind of potions by heart, because once you needed them you couldn't rely on finding the right book that held the recipe or finding a potioneer to brew it for you.

At that very moment, Harry was enormously grateful for Bill Weasley.

Thinking back to Bill also made Harry think about his other friends. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, George and many of his colleagues such as Jordy and Sonia.

Suddenly Harry missed them with an intensity that made his chest ache because he realized that if this was all real, that if he wasn't stuck in a coma in St Mungo's, then he'd never see his friends again.

Harry was truly alone in the world, and that made his throat close up until Harry swallowed quite a few times to get rid of that annoying lump.

Yeah, not thinking about that, either.

Harry downed the cooled down potion and shivered for a moment before all his limbs relaxed and he heaved a big sigh. There. That pressing problem was taken care of, and now Harry could truly start planning for the future.

Problem was, of course, that Harry had never been much of a planner in any capacity. Thankfully, Harriet kept a notebook and a self-inking quill in her potions kit because she had been a meticulous notetaker. Harry conjured a simple wooden chair and table and sat down to make a list of shit he needed to do.

A few pressing matters were money and a safehouse. Murder Cottage would probably do quite well as a safehouse once Harry fixed it up and put it under a Fidelius.

After the second wizarding war Harry had received a few gifts from some generous witches and wizards, one of them being a small hunting cottage in the Scottish Highlands. With the help of Ron and Hermione, Harry had put it under the Fidelius and shared the secret with them. All three of them remembered how miserable living in a tent had been when they hadn't been able to turn to anyone for help, and all three of them wanted to avoid a repeat of such a thing at all cost.

If Harry really had died in his previous life, Ron and Hermione had just inherited that cottage, Harry thought with a wry smile. Grimmauld Place had gone to Teddy. And Harry's Potter vault had been divided up amongst most of his friends, with Teddy getting the lion's share from the Black vaults, with the rest going to Andromeda. Then again, if Harry truly had been reborn in the past, then the future as it had been no longer existed, because Harry planned to change a few important things.

One of them was getting rid of that fucking basilisk before Riddle could discover its existence and unleash it on the school. Harry was certain he remembered the most important points about Riddle's life in vivid details, and he wrote them down in the notebook. At the end of his fifth year Riddle had killed Myrtle using the basilisk, and then he'd murdered his father and grandparents during the summer, before stealing the resurrection stone from Morfin Gaunt.

Thankfully, killing a basilisk wasn't hard, as long as you took a cockerel with you and had an element of surprise. The problem was getting into the Chamber of Secrets. It required parseltongue. Harry had been a parselmouth, and he'd kept that talent even after the horcrux in his scar had been destroyed, but he doubted he'd kept that skill in a brand-new body.

Well, only one way to find out. Harry aimed his wand towards one of the open windows and summoned the closest snake. A flailing grass snake came flying through the window.

"Who dares pull me away from my hunt?" the snake demanded as Harry levitated it above the table.

Yeah, all right, he was still a parselmouth. "Sorry, my mistake," Harry hissed and banished the snake back to where it came from. It made sense, perhaps, if you considered that Harry's soul had been reborn in a new body. Parseltongue was a skill Harry had acquired from a piece of Voldemort's soul, so it wasn't an impossibility that it had carried over with Harry's soul during a rebirth.

The second problem was getting into Hogwarts unseen.

Hm.

That voice had called Harry the 'Master of Death', hadn't it? Could that perhaps mean that he was still the master of the three hallows? Could that perhaps also mean that he might be able to summon those objects for his own use?

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could on the invisibility cloak. He gave it all he had, mentally, to bring the cloak to him. When he opened his eyes, his lap was still empty.

Ah well, you couldn't win them all. For now, the invisibility cloak was still in possession of Harry's grandfather, Fleamont Potter, and Harry very much doubted he'd give it up to some muggleborn nobody claiming to be his reborn grandson from the future. Besides, Harry had no desire to share his unusual experience with anyone. Wizards got really uptight about time travel of any kind and Harry didn't want to end up in the Department of Mysteries as a prisoner.

So Harry would simply have to break into Hogwarts using a disillusionment charm. These days Harry was very good at casting those, though, thanks to his Auror training. He also knew the secret passageway between Honeydukes and the statue of the humpbacked witch on the third floor already existed, so Harry should be able to sneak into the castle without any issues.

Harry frowned as he tapped his quill against he notebook. Perhaps going after the basilisk was better left until a later date, once he got a relationship established with the goblins. Harry wanted to butcher the basilisk once he killed it, and the goblins were experienced in selling parts of rare magical beasts and guaranteed anonymity for the seller. Of course, this came at a price, but Harry was happy to pay that to keep himself out of the spotlight while his vault filled up with gold.

But there was another treasure waiting at Hogwarts to be discovered and sold off.

After the war, he, Ron and Hermione had often bemoaned the loss of all the things that had been burned in the Room of Requirement. Old books, furniture, artifacts, wands, antique brooms and who knows what else. It had all been lost.

But now Harry was in the perfect position to empty that room, keep what he wanted of the items he found and sell off the rest. He could do it first thing, and quickly earn back the money he'd borrowed from Evelyn and be left with some gold for himself. Probably enough to open a Gringotts vault, and once he had one of those he could slay the basilisk and really cash in.

Yeah, that was what Harry was going to do.

Then he remembered he'd promised to pick up potatoes for Harriet's mother, so he should probably do that first. But afterwards, he was breaking into Hogwarts.

Harry added a few strong locking charms on the doors of Murder Cottage and took a moment to fix all the broken windows. That way he could leave his potions supplies there, instead of having to haul them back and forth all the time. He did make sure to tuck at least one bezoar in the small pocket of his skirt.

Swansand-upon-the-sea was a lovely little market town with a small port. There was a local farmer's market being held in the town's square where Harry could buy what he needed. He apparated to a dark, forgotten corner behind the churchyard and strolled towards the market. Being stuck in the past was a revelation. Harry spent most of his adult years in the wizarding world, but he'd grown up in the muggle world and he still liked to visit a muggle pub or a muggle club from time to time, so he had a very good idea how bloody different the muggle world suddenly looked.

There were very few cars around, for one. And there were a lot more bicycles. And people dressed in ways Harry had only ever seen in history books. Women's hairdos especially looked very different.

When a woman passing him greeted him cheerfully, Harry almost went for his wand out of sheer shock and surprise. No muggle ever greeted him. Everyone in Little Whinging had thought him a child criminal thanks to Petunia's gossip machine, and everyone in London minded their own fucking business and didn't bother complete strangers on the street. But in the 1940s it was apparently perfectly normal to greet each other, so Harry returned the gesture and tried to keep a polite smile on his face. It might have ended up looking like a grimace because Harry was not used to smiling all the fucking time. He generally had very little to smile about.

Buying their meagre share of potatoes didn't take very long, and Harry quickly walked back to the churchyard and apparated home.

"Harriet, is that you?" Evelyn called from the kitchen as Harry entered the house.

"Yes, I have the potatoes," Harry called back, showing Evelyn the sack before storing it in the cupboard.

"We're having some leftover soup for lunch." Evelyn stirred a pot on the stove, and Harry set the table. Just as he was done, Martin and Vincent joined them and Harry sat at the table with Harriet's family and quietly enjoyed a bowl of vegetable soup with a slice of buttered bread on the side. Martin and Vincent talked about the war and whether or not Vincent would be getting a letter to join the military as a doctor. Evelyn paled significantly during that conversation, and Harry realized there was a very real chance she might lose her child if Vincent got drafted. So many young men hadn't made it home again, after all.

Harry remained quiet for the most part, which wasn't unusual for Harriet, who'd been a quiet sort of girl. Afterwards, Harry helped Evelyn with the dishes before Evelyn disappeared back to the doctor's office and Harry was free to break into Hogwarts.

It really was a simple affair. Harry apparated to Hogsmeade, cast a disillusionment spell on himself, snuck down to Honeydukes' cellar and lowered himself through the trapdoor. A brisk walk later, he squeezed himself out from behind the statue of the humpbacked witch and strolled towards the seventh floor. Harry reasoned that since he was an actual student of Hogwarts, the wards wouldn't make a fuss about him being inside the castle, summer holiday or not.

He didn't meet anyone on his way to the Room of Requirement, and Harry asked for the room with all the hidden things as he paced in front of the correct part of the wall. A door appeared and Harry soon found himself surrounded by lots and lots of junk.

Oh, there was treasure there as well, but mostly it was junk. Still, junk could be fixed and sold just as well, so Harry wasn't going to turn his nose up at any of the stuff. He commanded the room to sort through all the items, grouping things like trunk and bags together, which Harry promptly turned into bottomless storage spaces with the necessary expansion charms. And then he could really start sorting through the mess around him.

He waved his wand again and again and loaded up all the books, clothes, wands, brooms, jewellery, money, anything made of precious metals, paintings, artifacts and various household items. He also selected the nicest of the furniture, some to sell and some to use to decorate Murder Cottage.

Harry didn't linger once he had the most valuable items loaded up. He could always come back, but for now he would take it all back to Murder Cottage, sort through it carefully, check everything for curses, and then sell a few items at a time as not to arouse suspicion why a fifteen-year-old muggleborn suddenly had so much magical stuff in her possession. He didn't even need to sell it all this summer. He just needed enough money to pay back Evelyn, open a Gringotts vault and have some spending money for himself for the coming year. Everything else could stay hidden away inside Murder Cottage.

Harry made the walk back to the third floor already feeling a little lighter. His plans were starting to take shape and at the very least he now had enough items in his possession to keep himself financially independent until the end of his Hogwarts years, should the whole kill the basilisk plan fall through for some reason.

The journey back to Honeydukes was long and boring, but Harry made it to Hogsmeade without anyone being the wiser he'd been inside Hogwarts at all. A quick apparition later, and Harry could start unloading and sorting through all the items in Murder Cottage in peace and quiet, until it was time to go back to Harriet's home for dinner.

Sharing another meal with Harriet's family was much the same as lunch had been. Harry ate his plate of potatoes, carrots and onion mash, with a hardboiled egg on the side. Not the most amazing food he'd ever had, but he understood it was wartime and they should be grateful they had fresh, nutritious food to eat at all. Harry helped Evelyn with the dishes again.

"Darling, could you take over preparing dinner from now on?" Evelyn asked as Harry dried a plate with a dishtowel.

"Of course, Mother," Harry replied, because that was the answer Harriet would have given. Harry could cook, had cooked for years when living at the Dursleys. And he had Harriet's memories to help him prepare the kind of meals that were appropriate for the time. But it would take up a lot of time he'd rather spent on other projects.

Hm.

Kreacher had always cooked for him ever since Harry moved into Grimmauld Place right after the end of the war. So Harry had no idea how to cook with magic. But cooking with magic would save him enormous amounts of time. Perhaps he should keep an eye out for any cookbooks in his newly acquired library. And if he couldn't find anything in that eclectic collection, he could always visit some second-hand bookstores in Diagon and Knockturn Alley and spend a few knuts on some magical cookbooks.

After dinner they all had tea in the sitting room where Harry sat down on the couch beside Harriet's brother. Evelyn cleared her throat and gave Harry a pointed look, flicking her eyes up and down, until Harry realized she was pointing out that Harry was sitting with his legs spread wide. He immediately closed them and offered Evelyn a small, apologetic smile. Evelyn shook her head, but smiled in return.

Vincent challenged Harry to a game of chess, and while Harry had never been a natural at that particular game, Harriet apparently had a better head for strategic thinking, because Harry managed to win two out of the three games they played together, much to Vincent's obvious disappointment.

That was interesting to contemplate, how having a new set of brains to work with did change some of Harry's natural talents.

And thinking of natural talents reminded Harry that he should make an effort to become an Animagus again. It had taken Harry and Hermione a full year to accomplish, but they'd both become animagi. Ron had passed on the opportunity once he realized how bloody complicated and involved the whole thing was. Hermione ended up as a pine marten, and Harry as a red kite, a graceful bird of prey with a deep red colour and a distinctly forked tail. Being able to turn yourself into a bird and fly away was a very useful skill to have if you ever found yourself in a dangerous situation. Harry doubted this skill would have carried over after his rebirth, though, since it was a physical transformation that took place over many different parts of the process.

And later, when Harry was alone in his bedroom and he tried to transform, he was not at all surprised when it didn't work. So, again going through the whole complicated process of becoming an Animagus it was.

The next day, Harry woke up from Evelyn's gentle knock on the door and he immediately got his day started because he had plenty to do. He was less surprised to see his breasts this time, but he still felt very weird about his distinct lack of penis.

Evelyn had left him another bowl of oatmeal, which Harry quickly devoured. Afterwards, he used magic to get all his cleaning chores done in record time and then he apparated straight to Murder Cottage. The full moon was only six days away, so Harry made a note to buy a mandrake leaf. Keeping a mandrake leaf in your mouth from one full moon until the next a month later was the first step in becoming an Animagus.

Harry got to work sorting through the biggest items. There were some very nice, antique brooms that Harry was sure he could sell for some good money. He did keep the newest broom, a Star Sweeper at least 20 years old, for himself, though. It flew decently, even if it was very slow compared to the kind of brooms Harry was used to. But it would come in handy once he went down into the chamber to kill the basilisk.

While Harry still loved playing Quidditch, he had no intention of trying out for the Ravenclaw team. That would draw far too much attention to himself.

He also came across a few pieces of jewellery that he could sell. One piece, a brooch with what looked like a large sapphire in the middle surrounded by small diamonds might just be worth quite a bit of money. Harry kept a few simple rings, bracelets and necklaces, mostly the silver ones, but also one or two gold ones. Jewellery like that could easily be used to enchant with protective spells and such, which Harry planned to do in the future.

Harry had lunch with Harriet's family again, and afterwards he apparated to Diagon Alley to sell some brooms and jewellery. He told the shopkeeper some sob story how a distant relative had passed away and had left all sort of strange antiques to his favourite cousin. The owner of the antiques shop bought it easily enough and was very happy to take the brooms. When Harry showed him the brooch and a few more jewellery items, the man got downright explosive with enthusiasm and eagerly engaged Harry in a battle of negotiation.

In the end Harry walked out of the store with a bag filled with almost 50 galleons. That might not seem like much, but from what Harry had seen what everyday items cost in both the muggle and wizarding world, those 50 galleons were worth at least 5000 pounds in 2005 money. The sapphire brooch was responsible for 30 galleons all by itself. Still, not bad for a few antique items from the Room of Requirement.

Harry immediately hopped inside Gringotts and opened a vault in Harriet Hubble's name. He didn't want to have to walk around with such a large sum of money. He kept ten galleons as spending money for the rest of the summer, had enough exchanged into muggle pounds to pay Evelyn back her twenty 1 pound notes, and put the rest in his new vault.

"I might come across a large magical beast one of these days, and I'd be interested in selling its parts," Harry told Steelclaw, the goblin who had set up his new vault for him.

"What sort of beast?" Steelclaw asked with a shrewd look.

"A 1000-year-old basilisk," Harry said with a cocky grin.

Steelclaw narrowed his eyes, as though thinking Harry was having him on. "If you were to get your hands on a beast like that, we could sell it for 30 percent of the profits."

Harry quickly shook his head. "No. I'll give you 15 percent."

Steelclaw's eyes narrowed even further until they were mere slits. "We'll take 25."

"I'll give you 20 percent if you write up a contract right now," Harry said, knowing that was the usual percentage goblins expected on most of such transactions.

"Consider it done," Steelclaw said, reaching for a piece of parchment. "All proceedings are to be deposited in your new vault, I assume?"

"Just so," Harry said with a satisfied smile. That was another thing he could cross off his list.

After his business was done in the bank, Harry pulled on his cloak, making sure the hood hid his face, and he sauntered into Knockturn Alley. He got a single mandrake leaf from the apothecary, and then he decided to stop by the second-hand bookstore while he was there, to look for some cookbooks and whatever else he could find that caught his interest. Then again, perhaps he should go easy on buying books, since he had a mountain of them waiting for him at Murder Cottage and he should probably sort through those first.

Harry pushed the door of the bookstore open, the bell above it giving a cheery jingle as he stepped inside, and then he almost walked straight back out again when he saw Tom Riddle sitting behind the counter, nose buried in a book.