The day after his visit to Gringotts, Harry finally had the time to talk to his mum. The rest of his relatives, the living ones that is, had decided that going on a trip to the beach was a good idea. The Dursleys had rented a small cottage in Cornwall for the coming week. It had taken minimal persuasion for them to leave him home alone.

Aunt Petunia was still frightened of him and Vernon kept his distance. But judging by the amount of foul looks he'd gotten from the fat walrus lately, he expected him to have a violent outburst soon. Harry was secretly looking forward to it, because it posed an opportunity for him to hurt the man under the excuse of self-defence. At least that is what he convinced himself.

His relatives being away meant that he had the entire house to himself. He relished in being able to do whatever he wanted without having to plan his actions around where the Dursleys were.

This was what led to him being in the kitchen, baking while chatting to his mother. He liked listening to her talk. It felt like they were finally able to make up for lost time. They probably would never have a normal parent/child relationship, but close friends was still nice.

"Harry, you really should talk to your father more often… He wants to get to know you as well."

Harry sighed. He'd wanted to avoid this topic. Sure, he wanted to get to know his father, but he wasn't as easy to talk to as Lily. And to be honest, what he'd gotten to know so far, he hadn't especially liked. James was a bit of an arse.

"I know... Maybe tomorrow alright?"

"Okay. I love you, Harry, we both do…"

"I love you too mum." It probably wasn't the kindest or smartest solution, but he decided to simply ignore the topic. Denial was great until it came back to bite you in the bum.

Harry continued puttering around the kitchen, the radio buzzing in the background. He rolled out the sweet, yeast dough he'd made a few hours ago. For some reason he'd been craving cinnamon rolls lately and this was the result. He planned to keep them stored in his nightstand drawer.

It might sound strange, but one of his recent projects had been to turn his nightstand drawer into an expanded coldbox to keep his foodstash in. Even though he didn't technically need to hoard food anymore, it was an ingrained habit from his childhood. Too many nights had he gone hungry to the point of his stomach cramping with pain, for him to stop stowing away food in various places.

"Mum?"

"Yes?" She sounded hopeful, making Harry feel slightly guilty.

"When I went to speak with the goblins, Gornuk, the Black estate's manager, he called me Henry…I figured he just read it wrong since he's so old, right?" Harry laughed nervously and looked at his mother through the corner of his eyes.

Lily's expression was puzzled, making Harry's stomach sink. "What do you mean read it wrong?" She asked.

Harry swallowed. "Well, my name is Harry right? I mean why would he call me Henry?"

Lily blinked, completely baffled. "Do you mean no one ever told you? Not even Sirius?"

"Told me what?"

"That Harry is just a nickname… you were named Henry James Potter. Henry for James' grandfather. We decided to use Harry as a nickname to honour my own father… someone should have told you… Harry is only meant to be used by family and close friends. I...I'm so sorry you didn't know." She looked devastated.

Harry, no, Henry? Felt like he didn't even know who he was anymore. He couldn't fathom why anyone would want to keep his given name from him. Why had Dumbledore marketed 'Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived' and not 'Henry Potter'? Why was Harry acceptable and Henry not?

"Did Dumbledore know? About my name I mean." Harry questioned.

"Yes, James was rather close with him so he was invited to your naming ceremony. It was a small affair because of the war. Other than us three, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus and Peter were there." Lily scowled.

Harry licked his lips, they felt so incredibly dry. He kneaded the dough harshly, channelling his anger into something productive.

"Why didn't they tell me?"

"I don't know…" Lily paused, hesitating to speak her mind.

"But?"

"But I have an idea. From what you told me of your past, Dumbledore used you as a front figure for the Light side of the war. Even though Henry is used in the muggle world as well, it is considered an old pureblood name in the wizarding world. You being introduced as Harry, would make you sound informal and more muggle. Maybe he thought that you would come across as more approachable and not be lumped in with the purebloods. As for Remus and Sirius, they probably thought you knew and chose to use Harry because they were family friends."

Harry was silent, he'd already thought Dumbledore had taken everything away from him the first time. But now, finding out that not even his name was correct… it left a foul taste in his mouth.

"I'm going to ruin him. Completely. He will wish he was never born when I'm done with him" Harry said apathetically, his voice entirely void of emotion.

Lily didn't say anything, but she agreed. Had she still been alive, she would have ripped the man to shreds. No kind of pain was good enough for the old bastard.

Harry sighed as he spread butter, cinnamon and brown sugar over the rolled out dough. Why was his life so fucked up? What had he done to deserve all of this?

"Alright, so I'm named Henry, brilliant. Any more surprises in store? Was I secretly born a girl? Do I have an evil twin that was adopted away at birth? Maybe Snape is my father?"

Lily snorted loudly and rolled her eyes. "No, seeing as we only slept together once when we were sixteen, I very much doubt it."

Harry choked on air. "You slept with Snape?!" He couldn't believe his own ears. He hadn't meant it as an actual possibility, he was being sarcastic. He didn't want to hear about his mother having sex with anyone, much less his old professor.

"He had a pretty huge co-"

"NO!" Harry shouted, looking at her with big, horrified eyes. "Not another word!"

Lily merely laughed.

Harry's brain sputtered, desperately trying to come up with a different topic.

"W-why were there three vaults in the Potter estate?" Harry asked. It was the first thing that came to mind.

His mother gave him a huge, mischievous grin, clearly understanding what he was trying to do. Still, she indulged him.

"Well, unless something has changed, those should be the main family vault, your trust vault and my personal vault. I opened one after my first year at Hogwarts and put money in it whenever I could. Saving up for a rainy day pretty much." Lily explained.

"There is a family vault?" Harry felt like all he was doing today was repeating his mother's words.

"Of course there is. The Potters were a well off pureblood family. That vault has been in their family for generations."

Harry sighed and rolled up his dough into a long log and cut it into slices. "Of course it has. I know nothing about anything it seems. My entire life I've been kept in the dark about my own family, and I was too stupid to ask."

"Oh Harry… you're not stupid. You were a child in a war played by adults. None of it is your fault." She looked sombrely at her young son.

"I know… but it still feels shitty." The black haired boy twirled the sliced dough, one end in each direction, before twisting it up in a knot and placing it on the baking tray. The process was continued until the entire tray was full. He set a timer and let the dough finish proving.

They kept chatting idly until the timer rang, indicating that the rolls were ready to go into the oven. Harry put the tray inside and set the timer again.

"I wonder what happened to the books at the cottage." His mother pondered. "I kept them in an enchanted locket that I hid in my jewellery box because I was afraid James might find them. I hope it wasn't stolen after we died."

"Could they have placed it in your vault?" Harry inquired.

"It is a possibility I suppose. You should ask Kartaak, that's the Potter manager, whether there have been any deposits to the vault after our deaths. I hope he's still alive. He was rather ancient last time I saw him. We only met a few times after James and I got married, but he seemed decent enough."

They continued talking while Harry worked on the rest of his baked goods. The timer eventually dinged and he took the freshly baked cinnamon rolls out of the oven and placed them on a wire rack to cool.

Another batch of rolls were put in the oven and Harry went to put on the kettle. He still hadn't eaten breakfast and his stomach was rumbling from the delicious aromas filling the room. His mouth watered at the thought of a sweet pastry and a cup of tea.

Lily grinned. "Now, it's time for little boys to eat their breakfasts. And don't you dare eat only sweets!" She gave him a mock glare.

In response Harry picked up one of the cinnamon rolls and shoved it into his face.

Lily gasped in feigned outrage. "Stop that right this instant, young man!" She tried to hold in her laugh but soon, both she and her son were giggling hysterically, pieces of cinnamon roll crumbling and falling onto the table. Both laughed until tears ran down their cheeks

ΔΟΙ

Mr Rodriguez, or Martin as he demanded to be called, appeared bright and eager for a day of second hand potions brewing.

"Good morning Harry! Ready to do some brewing today?"

Harry let out a groan, feeling disoriented and still mostly asleep.

"I told you he wouldn't be awake yet you harebrained fopdoodle." The familiar voice of Cadmus Peverell butted in.

Harry groaned again and opened his eyes. "What time is it?" He groused, barely able to string the words together. He felt like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.

"Too early." Cadmus muttered.

"Oh come on! The sun is already up. Well, somewhere it is. No dawdling kiddo, up and at 'em! Chop chop!" Martin clapped his hands together, trying to rouse the child.

Harry peered at the small alarm clock on his nightstand. The hands showed 3:35 am. He threw a dirty glare in Martin and Cadmus' direction. He'd barely gotten 4 hours of sleep because he stayed up late setting up his loom and preparing the Araknos thread.

"Why the hell did you let that giant tosser come here at bloody three thirty in the morning?" Harry asked Cadmus grumpily.

The young, yet ancient spirit, squirmed slightly under the greeneyed gaze. "It's not like I could have held him back." Cadmus mumbled.

Both men had died fairly young, and they certainly acted it at the moment. Harry let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. This was going to be a long day.

"Fine. Let me get ready and I'll set up my cauldron in the kitchen." Harry muttered dully.

He ignored the bickering spirits and went to the bathroom to do his business. At least having the entire house to himself was a blessing when he got woken up in the middle of the bloody night to brew potions.

ΔΟΙ

A standard pewter cauldron filled with clear water as a base stood ready on the kitchen table. Harry guided his magic through the Peverell ring. Since the Hallows were now a part of it, he could use it as a replacement for a wand. It had taken a while to get used to it, but now he felt even more comfortable with it than he did with a standard wand. Using the ring he lit a steady flame underneath the cauldron and waited for the water to come to a boil.

Martin and Cadmus were both supervising his knife skills as he sliced, diced and crushed various ingredients. First in the cauldron would be the thinly sliced newt spleens, followed by diced banana and crushed lacewing flies.

The two tutors watched mostly in silence, only coming with a few suggestions and tips here and there. They praised him whenever he did particularly well, but for the most part he didn't need any guidance. He had studied this potion relentlessly in the week leading up to the brewing. Not to mention that it was a fourth year potion he'd already brewed before. It hadn't been perfect back then, but it had been acceptable enough for consumption.

Harry stirred ten times clockwise and two times counter-clockwise, quickly lowering the heat. He waited until the boiling stopped then added porcupine quills. The potion changed colour from a pale yellow to sky blue. He turned up the heat and let it simmer for another eight and a half minutes before repeating the stirring pattern. The colour changed to a deep blue, indicating that it was finished. The heat was turned off completely so the potion could cool down.

The entire brew had taken about an hour and half. He smiled wistfully at his own accomplishment. He remembered how thoroughly he'd hated brewing this the first time around. Snape and the Slytherins had ruined potions for him back then. It was funny actually, how if only the potion master hadn't been the way he was, then potions would probably have been one of Harry's best subjects.

"Well done! I knew you could do it." Martin praised loudly, bringing Harry out of his reminiscing.

The Colombian spirit beamed brightly at him. His shiny white teeth contrasting with his tan skin and chestnut hair. He was young. Maybe in his early thirties. He said he'd been killed in some gang drama. Apparently he'd been part of one.

Harry struggled to connect the cheerful young potions master with illegal activities and Colombian gangs, but facts were facts.

"Thanks. I can't wait to try it. I want to feel like myself again, not a child." Harry sighed.

"Well, I couldn't have done it any better myself." Martin said.

"You've come a long way, Master of Death." Cadmus offered.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "I've told you, it's just Harry."

"So you have." Cadmus hummed.

"And still you seem to forget it." Harry mumbled as he cleaned up his workstation and waited for the potion to cool down.

The Peverell brother ignored him and instead peered curiously at some of the modern appliances that seemed completely alien to him. "What did you say this does again?" Cadmus inquired, finger going through the electric kettle.

"It boils water." Harry absentmindedly replied, wiping down the table one last time.

Cadmus looked baffled. "But there isn't any fire or coals. And I cannot see any runes."

"It's electric." Harry said, then realised it wouldn't explain much. "It runs on er… muggle magic. Sorta."

"How curious."

Martin rolled his eyes and laughed fondly. "You're so fucking out of date."

Cadmus huffed and muttered. "Try dying in the 12th century and see how well informed you are."

Harry's lips twitched in amusement at the duo's bantering. With a small ladle, he began transferring the ageing potion over to his crystal phials. The entire batch contained about 30 doses. He wasn't quite sure how long the potion would last, it all depended on its potency. He'd have to take one later to test it out before he decided to go out in public. Reverting from adult to child in the middle of muggle London would not go over well. Nor would it in the wizarding world for that matter.

He debated going back to bed, but it was already 6am so he let go of that idea. He could take a small nap later.

"I hope you don't have any big lessons planned today because my mind is nowhere near able to handle it right now."

"Nope!" The heavily tattooed Colombian crowed happily.

Harry glared at the man and wondered how the hell a gangster became such a cheery person. It shouldn't be legal.

He collected his filled phials and stored all but one safely inside the potions cabinet in his satchel. The rest of his brewing equipment and ingredients were returned to their rightful place.

ΔΟΙ

Harry stood in his bedroom, naked as the day he was born. The reason for this was the phial of ageing potion in his left hand. If he'd calculated correctly, one dose should increase his age by about fourteen years. Growing that much would be severely stupid while still being dressed as a child.

"Bottoms up, I guess." He muttered to himself before downing the entire thing. It had a cloyingly sweet and slightly tangy taste. It wasn't awful but definitely not pleasant.

His arms were the first to grow, then followed by legs and torso. The process was slow as bones, muscle and connective tissue stretched and warped. Once the transformation was complete, Harry was on his arms and knees, panting. His entire body ached. He should have expected it, really. Normally there wouldn't be too many changes with an ageing potion due to the user already being an adult, but Harry's body had been a child. He had to force his body to grow into a much larger shape, not just age it's features.

A groan left his chapped lips, and he realised that the sound was darker than what he'd gotten used to. It worked then, Harry figured. But instead of getting up to check, he allowed himself to flop down onto the carpeted floor. He needed a few minutes to recuperate.

Once his body stopped feeling like one giant bruise, he conjured a large mirror so he could verify the transformation.

Green eyes inspected the mirrored image and a broad grin split his face. He appeared to be in his early twenties. He was taller than what he'd been in his previous life, but still not what anyone would consider tall. He was around average and very happy with that. The second thing he noticed was how he had none of the scars from his past. Of course he hadn't had them as a child either, but it was a relief not to see them again.

His body was lean but not emaciated. A decent diet for the past year had done him good. He could stand to build some more muscle though. Maybe he should add some light exercise to his regular schedule? It was probably a good idea.

Satisfied that his potion worked as it should, he transfigured a pencil into a t-shirt and a piece of paper into shorts. He'd rather not walk around naked despite having the house to himself.

Once properly dressed, he grabbed a pastry and a cup of tea and placed himself on the sofa in front of the telly. It was an action he'd never been allowed to do in his past. The Dursleys treated him like a dog who wasn't allowed on the furniture. Now, with vindictive glee, he sat down and watched the mindless drivel that he hadn't been allowed to watch as a child. Not that the programs were particularly interesting, but it was the principle of it that mattered.

"Are you honestly going to stay in front of the television all day?" His mother's voice came from behind, nearly making him jump out of his own skin.

"Don't do that!" He squeaked, heart hammering wildly in his chest. "Your privilege to come and go as you please can be withdrawn you know."

Lily laughed and came to sit down next to him. She looked at him wistfully. "You look so handsome. I still can't believe that you are actually an adult already. I really wish I could have seen you grow up for real."

"I know mum." Harry's voice was soft, full of affection and love for the woman that would do anything to make him happy.

"You would have been the best mother in the world. Even if your taste in men is dubious." He teased with a smirk.

"Harry!" His mother exclaimed and smothered a laugh. She shook her head and smiled.

"Oh you are horrible to your old mother."

The two shared a grin.

"So, what are your plans for today?" She asked and pretended to lean her head on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure. I can't go anywhere public because of the potion. I have to wait and see how long it lasts before I leave the house. Although…I suppose I could go and have a look around Resurrection Island if Death is free to transport me." Harry mused.

"Didn't you plan on making the island into a safe house?" Lily asked.

"Yeah. I need to check what kind of condition the house is in though. It'll probably need some renovation if it's still standing. I should get a wizarding tent when I see the goblins on Saturday either way."

"Mh. Yes, it's probably a good idea. Even if you don't plan on using it on the island, it's something that's smart to keep available in case you need it." His mother replied.

"I've been thinking about maybe getting a house-elf." Harry slowly said, airing the idea to his mum. He still had no idea how she, being a muggleborn, would react to it. Hermione's S.P.E.W came to mind.

"Oh? Well, it is a good idea I suppose. As long as you have enough work for them. They get depressed if they have nothing to do."

"So you're not gonna yell at me for keeping slaves or something?" He inquired, still hesitant.

Lily snorted. "House elves aren't slaves. Well, not originally at least. They are a symbiotic species that need to siphon off magical energy from another being or place because they cannot activate their own."

"What?" Harry frowned. "But I've seen both Dobby and Kreacher perform their own kind of magic that's different to what wizards do."

"Yes, once they have a bond with someone, or a place that is saturated in enough magic, they can use their own magic. Think of it like electricity. They need to be plugged into an electrical socket to be able to draw on that energy and use their magic. In addition, without that kind of bond they will age much faster and not be able to reproduce." Lily explained.

"In the past, house elves would enter a mutually beneficial agreement with other magical beings. Work for magic essentially. However, they were still free to leave at any time and seek out new hosts or to stay unbonded. The problem today is that they are treated as property by wizards and witches, and not given the choice to leave if they want to. The bond performed today is much tighter than it used to be. I have a theory that at some point, wizards created a new form of bond and tricked the elves into forming it."

Harry thought it explained a lot about the house elves' origins, and put Hermione's campaign to free all elves in a pretty bad light. He wondered if she'd done any research on the subject or just instantly became indignant on their behalf because of the ethical dilemma.

Harry remembered the house elves cleaning their dorm being horrified by the thought of being freed. And considering what he now knew, freedom would eventually equate an early grave.

"Maybe Ignotus knows the old form of the binding? I don't want to bind the elves so tightly to me that they can't leave if they want to." Harry frowned. It was a lot to think about before going through with it. Luckily there was no rush, he just thought they might be able to look after the island and the animals residing there.

"He probably does. And if not he can always find out." His mother replied.

"Speaking of finding out, I don't think I've ever asked what it's like. On the other side I mean. Is it like being alive?" Harry enquired curiously. It was something he frequently found himself thinking about.

"No. It's… strange. We don't have shapes like we do when we are alive or when you summon us, we just exist. Time doesn't seem to move, or maybe it moves too quick? I don't know. Souls usually only mingle with those they were close to before death, so we don't get any new information from the living unless someone dies. It's why we had no idea what happened to you after Voldemort killed us. It's nothing like being alive but it is…peaceful. It's hard for me to explain because there isn't anything like it."

"Oh…" it hadn't been what he expected. Obviously he had no way of knowing what death would be like, but he'd made up some ideas that now were proved to be entirely wrong.

"So no heaven or hell then?"

His mother slowly shook her head. "I don't think so? You need to ask Death himself if you want more details."

"Mh, okay." He probably would ask one day, but it wasn't really important at the moment. It was just his curiosity rearing its head.

The two of them stayed in front of the tv for another hour, watching BBC and simply enjoying the others company.

After lunch, Harry worked for a while on his weaving project. The parts of the loom were so much easier to move now that he had a longer reach. He dedicated a few hours and a bit of blood towards that project.

Afterwards he was so exhausted that he had to lay down for a small nap. He set an alarm so he wouldn't sleep through the day.

90 minutes later, the high pitched beeping of his alarm clock woke him up. With bleary eyes and a heavy arm, he fumbled around for the off button, finally finding it.

The room became blessedly silent.

...

AN: Another chapter done. Again thank you for the mostly positive response this fic has been getting.

: The reason why there was no warning in the beginning of the story for any possible M/M pairings is because romance isn't the point of the story. In addition, this part of the fic will contain no pairings for Harry. The comment about Snape was just that, Harry realising that his impression of the man is vastly different when looking at him as an adult and not a child being verbally abused by said man.