"It is time, Mr Potter." Lucius Malfoy said quietly.

"Yeah." Harry turned his back on those gathered and faced the veil. He took a deep breath and entered the archway.

The last thing he heard was Lucius Malfoy's comment. "I'm sorry, Potter."

Harry Potter emerged into light so bright that it took him a few precious seconds before he was able to focus on where he was. Once his vision cleared, he was confronted with a familiar sight.

Kings' Cross Station.

A quick glance over his shoulder, confirmed that he'd just emerged from the same arched wall that was used to gain access to platform 9¾. A further glance around, saw him walk, seemingly calm and oblivious to the people around him, to a bench-seat a few yards away and sit down beside an abandoned newspaper. He didn't pick it up, but only because something else had caught his attention.

Across two sets of tracks, Platform Eleven had a number of plate-glass windows. Why that had caught his attention made him freeze in shock. There in bright, sharp focus, was his own reflection. But it was that reflection that caused him to freeze, not its existence, but what it showed.

He looked like he had when he'd first started at Hogwarts.

His mind raced in circles, trying to latch onto anything that could ground his thoughts. But it was his body that reacted when something fluttered past his face. His hand darted out and his fingers closed over the item, before drawing it closer. He tilted his head in confusion at the sight of a £10 note. The sight of that note sent his mind racing in a set direction. He held money in his hand, money that someone had lost, dropped or thrown away. Money that he needed.

But what else did he need?

While he thought, his eyes dropped to the newspaper beside him.

3rd of May 1988. Exactly ten years before he went through the veil. By that he should be eight years old, but his appearance was closer to twelve. That left him off-balance. Was he just thrown back in time? Was he thrown in a parallel world? Did this world, whatever it may be, have magic? Was he here as a punishment? Was he here to earn his peace? Was this his reward?

He dragged his mind back to what he needed.

A wand. That was an essential. He wasn't like Dumbledore, he couldn't do much in the way of wandless. Lumos and a weak wingardium leviosa were about his limit.

Money. He had a small amount of ʛalleons and an even smaller amount of muggle pounds. ʛ10, §7 and, including the £10 he'd snatched out of the air, he had a total of £25 in muggle money.

An Identity. If he'd travelled back in time, there was already a Harry Potter living in surrey. But if this was an alternative or parallel world? Who knows? There might be a Harry Potter or, according to Hermione, there could even be a Harriet Potter. He needed to know if Lady Magic had done all She could, in depositing him here, or if She'd done more and provided a new identity.

Somewhere to live. Regardless of whether he was still Harry Potter or not, there was no way in hell he was going to live with the Dursleys. Not a chance. That meant, he'd have to provide his living accommodation for himself.

Now… how to get what he needed…? And from where…?

A wand meant Diagon Alley or its equivalent.

Money. He had an idea about that, but to follow through, he needed a wand. Two for Diagon.

Identity. Easiest way to find out, was an identity test from Gringotts. Three for Diagon.

Accommodation. Well… he'd lived in a tent for the last eight months, he could live in a tent, at least for the summer or until he sorted out the identity and money issues, especially if it was a wizarding tent. Four for Diagon.

Four out of four. That meant he was going to Diagon. Here's hoping that this was his world or a parallel one that had magic.

He shoved the hand that still held the £10 note into a pocket in his jeans and stood. The quickest way to test would be platform 9¾, that is… if it wasn't closed during the school year. That meant he had to walk… or… he could catch a train? Prices for kid's fares were cheap, it would probably cost him less than £1. But that brought up the fact that he was already inside the fare barriers and he couldn't take the risk of being asked for a ticket. He made his way from the platforms to the public area and had a quick stop in the bathroom to alter his appearance the best he could with what he had available.

The knitted jumper, that was entirely too like those Mrs Weasley made, went into his rucksack and given that it was early summer, he figured that leaving his button-down shirt open, was fine. His glasses, that had sat in his pocket, when he'd walked into the veil, were pulled out and put on, this proved to Harry that Lady Magic was definitely involved in his being where he was, as the glasses made his eyes ache. It was then, that he realised that he'd been able to see perfectly without them. He also wet his hair and combed it neatly, it only had to last until he'd bought his tickets and boarded the first train. The only other thing his did, was to swap the £10 note in his pocket, for one of the £5 notes that Hermione, Ron and George had given him.

He studied the map on the wall, and mentally ran through what to say if he was questioned, about someone his age, being alone on the trains. Coming to a decision, he headed for the ticket booth and waited until there were a few groups of people nearby.

"Hello." He said to the woman manning (womaning?) the ticket booth. "Can I buy a ticket to get me to… um… um… oh, Charing Cross Station. Please?" He did his best imitation of Colin Creevey asking if he could take a picture of Harry.

"By yourself, lovey?" The woman frowned.

"Um…?" He looked over his shoulder like he was looking for someone's approval.

"Ah." The woman looked passed him, at a middle-aged couple looking in the direction of the booth, her frown easing. "Of course, you can, dear." She pressed a few keys and stamped something and looked back at him. "That will be seventy-five pence."

"Okay…" Harry pulled out the £5 and passed it over.

"Thank you, young man. Your change." She skidded the change across the counter to him, along with the ticket.

"Thank you." Harry smiled as brightly as he could. He gathered up the coins, notes and tickets and shoved the money into his pocket, before trotting over to the couple.

"Excuse me?" He asked, looking back at the ticket booth and waving. "Could you tell me which way to platform… um…" He looked at his ticket. "Oh, Platform Three."

"Platform Three?" The woman asked, smiling at the ticket booth.

"Yes'm. I'm going to Charing Cross Station, it's the closest station to the Victoria Embankment Gardens. My godfather's house is near there. And I miss him, so much." Wasn't that the truth, even two years on, Harry's heart still ached at the loss.

Obviously, this was the right thing to say, as the woman and her partner smiled at him. "Why don't we show you the way?" The man said, giving the woman a speaking look.

"Ooh, yes please?" Harry did his best to act like a younger Hermione presented with a new book.

The man chuckled gently, and Harry felt a stab of guilt for misleading them, but the last thing he needed was for the woman from the ticket booth, to set a guard to watch out for him. And the alternative was walking the streets from King's Cross to where, he hoped, the Leaky Cauldron was. Nah, the train was faster, they ran every few minutes and the whole journey should only take about a quarter of an hour.

True to his estimates, Harry left Charing Cross Station less than twenty minutes later. It only took him a few minutes to exit the station and trundle up the tree-lined Strand to reach Charing Cross Road, from there it was only a couple of hundred yards to the quiet little shopping area that was home to the Leaky Cauldron. He hoped…

The sight of that familiar blue door nearly drove Harry to his knees. But the question still remained… was it magical? That question was answered as Harry crossed the muggle-based notice-me-not wards and felt them tingle on his skin. This world had a magical shopping district and he was going to access it, one way or another.

One inside the wards and out of sight of any muggles, he pulled his mokeskin pouch from his pocket and carefully retrieved his invisibility-cloak-wrapped album, before sliding the album back into safekeeping. The cloak was shaken out and draped across his shoulders. For the first time since opening his eyes to King's Cross Station, Harry was glad that he'd been de-aged, at least now his cloak covered him from head to toe and didn't leave his feet exposed.

Now all he had to do was, wait for someone to enter or exit the Cauldron, so he could get in the door without being spotted.

He'd barely finished that thought, when the Cauldron's door opened, and a man and boy emerged. Harry quickly stuck out a foot and let the door bump against it. He glanced at the man and boy, hoping they hadn't noticed, and sure enough, the two were talking about going to the cinema. As Harry looked at the boy, recognition set in, he knew those dreadlocks, but he'd never seen them that short before, nor had he ever seen them without a pair of redheads close by.

Lee Jordan. Harry remembered Lee sitting in the Great Hall, holding a sobbing Alicia Spinnet, after having told her of Fred's death. Harry shuddered and forced the thought away, he couldn't think about that, not yet, it was still too fresh, too painful.

He pushed the door of the Cauldron open, just enough for him to squeeze through, trying to make it seem like the door just hadn't closed properly. Apparently, he was successful, as old Tom, the barkeep, yelled for someone to 'give the door a bang, would ya?' Harry stepped aside just in time for a much younger Kingsley to give the door a hefty swing and slam it closed, he followed the black Auror into the pub's main room, but when Kingsley found himself a seat, Harry kept moving, through the pub towards the back hall and the entrance to Diagon Alley.

He leant on the wall and again waited. This time it was a few minutes before the hall door opened and Harry was able to slip through, into the tiny courtyard, but here his timing was excellent, an elderly couple were just returning from the Alley and Harry was able to squeeze around them before the wall closed.

Diagon Alley.

Right. First order of business was a wand.

But… where to get one? There were really only two options. Ollivander's and Knockturn Alley. Of course, there was Ollivander's, it had been around for centuries and Harry was fairly confident that Gregorovitch had a shop in the darker alley. But... Ollivander was out, simply because he was able to identify his customers on sight and Harry wasn't sure that Gregorovitch didn't have the same… gift. Was there anywhere else, in either alley, that sold wands?

While Harry was wracking his brain, trying to remember, an elegant blonde man strolled past. Harry frowned, Lucius Malfoy wasn't strutting about, he was just strolling along. It wasn't what Harry considered normal for the arrogant git. Enough, that Harry decided he would follow the man, if anyone knew where illicit goods were to be sold, it would be a Malfoy.

From Diagon Alley and into Knockturn Alley, Harry stayed close to Malfoy, not close enough to step on his heels if he stopped suddenly, but close enough that no one would get between them. When Malfoy pushed open the door into Borgan and Burkes, Harry grinned. That was just the place he needed, he remembered seeing a barrel of wands near the counter before he'd hurried out of the shop, in the summer before second year.

"Borgan." Malfoy nodded to the shopkeeper.

"Mr Malfoy, welcome. What can I do for you, this fine day?"

"I've brought those items I wish to part with, as we discussed last week." Malfoy answered.

"Oh, very good, very good. Shall we go into the office, it wouldn't do to have someone see them before we complete our business. Now, would it?" The smarmy old man simpered and flicked his wand at the door, locking it firmly.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Lead the way."

"Certainly, sir. This way, if you please." The two men disappeared through an almost hidden door, that closed behind them.

Harry quietly moved towards the counter and sure enough, there were the wands. Not in a barrel, like he remembered, but on tiny shelves, very much like the criss-cross shelving of a wine-rack but much smaller, each wand handle/grip sticking out.

He crouched down beside the shelves and starting at the bottom, he closed his hand around each wand, waiting to see how it would react. Some barely warmed in his hands, others tingled, and some burned or stung. It wasn't until he reached those at shoulder height that one filled him with the same warm rushing feeling that his phoenix feather wand had given him. He pulled it out and laid it on the edge of the counter beside him and kept going. Who knew if that was going to be the wand that matched him best?

Two rows up and another wand filled him with warmth and power. He pulled it down and picked up the first wand. The two together send a pulse of power through him, he could actually feel them choose him and each other, their power levelling out and balancing with each other's. He glanced at the tags tied to each handle, before spluttering in shock.

"Bloody hell." He whispered. "ʛ10 each, you have got to be kidding me? Even Ollivander only charges ʛ7 for brand new wands. Damned if I'm being ripped off." Harry intended to pay for what he got, but he wasn't paying those prices. Not even for dual-cored wands.

As he headed for the counter, he spotted a box of, what at first glance seemed to be leather straps, but it was only a few days since he'd watched Bill and Fleur strap holsters onto their wrists.

"Cool…" He was still whispering.

His hands rifled through the box until he had two holsters, one arm and one leg. He drew them out and after snorting at the prices on their ancient tags, he removed the tags and strapped them to his right arm and left thigh. Removing the tags from the wands, they were quickly slipped into a holster. A quick test and both wands easily slid into his hands, how the holster on his leg did this, he didn't know, as it was under his clothes, but he'd only had to tap his hand against his leg and his wand rested in his palm. Something to think about at a later time, he had no idea how long Malfoy and Borgan would take before emerging from that back room and he needed to be ready to leave with Malfoy.

Around behind the counter, Harry pulled out his mokeskin pouch, ready to pull out a pair of shiny ʛalleons. But he paused. He couldn't keep using his mokeskin pouch as a coin pouch, it wasn't feasible in the long run.

A peg board at the other end of the counter held the solution. Clumps of bags, pouches, satchels, totes and duffels hung above a small collection of trunks.

"Cool." Harry whispered. "Let's see what we have here."

Reading the tags, he saw that the trunks started at ʛ100 and went up, most having elaborate protections and charms, a few had expanded capacities and while Harry was interested, he definitely didn't have the ʛ10,000 plus that Borgan was asking. But the bags and pouches were a different story. One hook held a clump of basic coin pouches, that only had expand-as-necessary and featherlight charms and this is where he went. He ended up with a plain, dull brown bag, small enough to go under his clothes or in his pocket, but still large enough to get his hand into.

Then he contemplated his rucksack. Sure, it was canvas, but it was also clearly muggle made. If he was going to be out in public, he needed to blend in a bit better. For that he needed two more items. A simple murky brown, battered leather satchel was slipped under his cloak. Two internal pockets with expanded capacity meant he could shove his rucksack into the satchel with room to spare.

A flick of a wand and a lightweight, nondescript day robe shrank, to be the right size for Harry, as he was now.

He quickly pulled off his invisibility cloak, pushed his head and one arm went through the strap of the satchel, before putting the robe over that. Then a noise from the door that Malfoy and Borgan had disappeared through, made him throw his cloak around his shoulders and draw the hood over his head. Behind the counter he quickly tossed a few coins on the shelf under the counter, he knew the shopkeeper would find them, as he left the tags, from his items, with them. He figured that a second-hand wand in a second-hand holster, both of which had been in the shop for more than twenty years according to their tags, were only worth ʛ1. A ʛalleon was also a fair price for a second-hand coin pouch in a second-hand satchel, again their tags said they'd been in stock for years. But the robe? That was in excellent condition and near new, from what Harry could tell, so he was happy to pay the asking price of §4.

Another noise made him scurry back around the counter, towards the door.

And not a moment too soon, as Malfoy and Borgan emerged into the shop.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr Malfoy, a hard bargain, indeed. But I do believe that I have a buyer for the dagger. The necklace, however, that may have to be forwarded to a colleague abroad."

"As long as it is no longer in my possession, nor comes near my family, I do not care what you do with them, Borgan."

"Of course, sir. Now, we agreed on ʛ175 for the dagger and ʛ1250 for the necklace, correct?" Borgan asked.

"We did." Malfoy confirmed.

"Assuming that you wish to keep this transaction… sub rosa…? I doubted that you wished a traceable transaction and as such would prefer payment by Gringotts' draughts." The shopkeeper reached under the counter, pausing to frown as he saw Harry's coins but refusing to be side-tracked, and retrieved a lockbox. Pulsing his magic into it, Borgan opened the box and began to rifle through it.

"A ʛ1000 draught, four ʛ100 draughts, two ʛ10 draughts and… ʛ5 in coin. For a total of ʛ1425." He counted out the seven parchment cards and five coins, as he laid them on the counter. "Is this acceptable, sir?"

Malfoy nodded sharply. "Quite."

Borgan smiled, a sickly mockery of a smile. "Very good, sir. Is there anything else I can assist you with today?"

"No, not today, but perhaps in the future. My wife's parents' estate is yet to be finalised, there will be many items there, to be… removed…" Malfoy said the last word distastefully.

"Certainly, sir. Borgan and Burkes are always ready to help a client."

"I shall remember that." Malfoy nodded politely. "Good day." With that, Malfoy gathered up the cards and the coins, they were dropped into an elegantly embroidered pouch and Malfoy headed for the door. He stepped through it and paused to nod to Borgan again, giving Harry a chance to slip under Malfoy's arm and into the dingy alley.

As Malfoy strode briskly back towards Diagon, Harry took the chance to cast a notice-me-not to gradually diminish, on a timed-delay. If he'd got his timing right, it would end when he was about halfway down the main shopping alley. Once the charm was in place, he carefully removed his invisibility cloak and making sure that he kept pace with Malfoy, shoved it into the satchel.

Now, he was ready to get started.

Ninety-three Diagon Alley.

The future home of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Harry looked at the empty shopfront and sighed. He couldn't think about that right now. He ducked into Technic Alley and then into the tiny alley between what would be WWW and a bootmaker's shop. The little alley didn't really count as an alley, as it only went far enough back for a set of stairs that went up to the landing that gave access to the flats above the two shops, then there was a second set of stairs that went up to the roof of WWW, but not to the bootmaker's. Fred and George had taken he, Ron and Hermione up there the week before the trio had started their sixth year at Hogwarts.

Standing on the landing, Harry concentrated and cast a strong notice-me-not, placing the stairs under a semi-permanent version of the charm. That done he climbed the stairs to the roof. Taking a look around the roof, he debated with himself over the necessity of casting a notice-me-not over the rooftop itself, but decided that he'd rather overcompensate, than be caught out.

Charms done, it was time to assess his supplies and make a plan.

Harry scourgified a small section of the floor, near the building's front façade. Sitting with his back against the façade, he emptied first the satchel, then the rucksack and his mokeskin pouch. He needed to determine what supplies he had and work out what he still needed.

Three rolls of clothes, a towel, a bag of toiletries, a jumper, a trench coat, a box of cards, a bag of marbles, a satchel, a rucksack, a mokeskin pouch, a coin pouch, ʛ7, §3, £24.25, his photo album, the snitch, his firebolt, the marauders' map, Neville's photo, Fawkes' feather from Luna, Hedwig's feather and the broken pieces of his phoenix feather wand. Interestingly enough, the clothes in the rucksack were still the appropriate size for adult-Harry, the jumper that he'd removed at King's Cross Station was the only other item size-appropriate to him as he stood, now.

Eyeing the £10 notes, Harry hummed in thought. He carefully packed the clothes back into the rucksack, along with the towel, toiletries, trench coat and jumper. He looked at the cards and marbles, remembering Hermione's message, but decided that he could study them later, there were more urgent things to dealt with, and they, too, went into the rucksack. He pushed the rucksack into the rear pocket of the satchel and focused on what was left.

The album, firebolt, snitch, map, feathers and wand went back into his mokeskin pouch, which went back on its leather thong around his neck and pushed under his shirt to sit flat against his sternum.

The muggle money was dropped into the main pocket of the satchel. While the ʛalleons and §ickles went into the coin pouch, which he left sitting in front of him. The invisibility cloak joined the rucksack in the satchel's rear pocket and that left only the day robe, which he would be wearing.

Time to get creative.

He drew out a wand and waved it, transfigured a stick into a pencil and a leaf into a piece of paper.

The £10 note had given him an idea. What happens to money that is lost, abandoned or discarded? Muggles loose coins and notes every day. What about pouches and wallets? Muggles lose wallets, do wizards lose coin pouches? Maybe wizards can summon them back, but they'd have to be in relatively close proximity to where they'd lost an item, or a summoning charm wouldn't be able to identify the item to retrieve. Right?

So, that means that there's a possibility that there'd be ʛalleons, §ickles and κnuts just lying about waiting to be found. What constitutes lost? What constitutes abandoned? What constitutes discarded? For what timeframe? Within what distance?

Lost, Abandoned or Discarded (Harry abbreviated this to read as LAD) items were items that the last person to have the item either misplaced it, dropped it, or deliberately discarded the item. The timeframe was interesting, it depended on what you were focusing on when you cast the spells, he could alter it to suit his needs, initially it would be a longer period but once he knew what he was doing and got it passed Gringotts? Then it could change. Distance was again, flexible and he decided that he would start with one hundred yards, but like the timeframe that would later change.

Could he create a spell-chain that would identify the items, then place them under a modified notice-me-not, before summoning them to him?

For half an hour he scribbled, scratching things out and writing them again, as he refined his spells. In the end he discovered that he had to do it in three parts, but thankfully he could cast them with only a minor delay between sections.

"Amissa locus desertus et abiecta ʛalleons, §ickles, κnuts." With a board sweeping gesture to cover the entire skyline around him, Harry cast the first part of the chain.

"Sita est celare items." He did the same sweeping gesture, before taking a deep breath, if this worked his money issues would be, if not resolved, then at least a little less dire.

"Accio LAD ʛalleons, §ickles and κnuts." Again, with the wand movements but this time he also circled his wand above his head and pointed his wand at the slated surface he was standing on and pushed his magic into his wand, releasing the spell.

At first nothing happened and Harry for a moment, wondered whether anything would happen. Then the first coin, a §ickle, flew over the building's façade. That was the just the start. For the next minute, coins flew towards him, only the fact that he'd been the one to cast the charm allowing him to see them and dive towards the façade, let him avoid be pummelled by them.

He stared at the small mountain of coins, bronze silver and even gold, that lay piled nearly ten inches high. Harry shook his head in disbelief and dragged himself to his feet. A few more deep breaths and he cast the spell chain again, this time targeted at muggle money. Only this time he knew what was coming and quickly sat himself out of the way. Coins and notes flew and floated around the rooftop and he was ever so glad that he'd cast a notice-me-not over the roof, as well as having one as part of the spells.

When the last of the muggle notes fluttered down to join the pile, Harry shook his head, again.

"Well, that works." He huffed and levitated all the muggle money into the main pocket of his satchel and then set the wizarding money flying into his coin pouch.

Something tickled at the back of his mind and it took Harry a couple of minutes to work out what it was.

"Gringotts' draughts!" He gasped.

It took him just seconds to recast his LAD spell, aimed at Gringotts' draughts, instead of money. Seconds passed and like earlier things began to float down in front of him. Harry had heard of Gringotts' draughts before, but until today he hadn't ever seen one. He knew that they came in multiple amounts. ʛ10, ʛ100, ʛ1000, ʛ10,000 and ʛ100,000, he didn't think that there was one for ʛ1,000,000, but he could easily be wrong.

He gathered up the pieces of parchment and studied them. One ʛ10,000 draught, four ʛ1000 draughts, five ʛ100 draughts and two ʛ10 draughts.

"ʛ14,520. Not a bad haul. That should get me set up… at least for a while." He sighed. "I miss Mione. She'd know what I need to do next."

Harry sat back focused. If Hermione was here what would she be suggesting as their next action?

Seconds ticked into minutes, before he looked, sharply.

"Scribulus' for ink, quill and parchment, to write down the charms, before my transfiguration fades. To Gringotts to ask about ID tests, vaults and get these charms notated. Maybe ask about exchange pouches. Buy a trunk, a tent and groceries." Harry blinked. "Okay… that was weird. Channelling Hermione… never done that before." He heaved himself to his feet and stuffed the draughts into the coin pouch. "Scribulus' it is."