Knowledge isn't power until it's applied
He packed all his new clothes in his new trunk right there in the store. He'd have to wear his hand-me-downs until Hogwarts. He wouldn't put it past Aunt Petunia to throw all his new clothes away, even the muggle looking trousers and shirts, or possibly even burn them.
As much as he'd like to do the same with Dudley's old clothes, Harry knew he'd have to save them too. He'd stuff them at the bottom of his trunk. He couldn't let anyone see them. Children were cruel. Adults too sometimes.
He whizzed round the remaining shops collecting his cauldron, potions ingredients, a telescope and all the other things on his list. He picked up a pamphlet on proper quill care and a small knife to keep them sharp.
Finally he found himself at Flourish and Blotts.
Harry liked books. At first he'd gone to the little school library to hide from Dudley and his friends but it didn't take him long to realize that the library was an excellent place to be. He couldn't do well at his school work or face his Uncle's wrath but that didn't mean he couldn't understand it. The plan had always been to wait until Secondary school, when he would be away from Dudley, to really show how smart he was. He would have found a way to hide his grades from the Dursleys. Now he didn't have to. Dudley couldn't compete with him in magic.
So now he was in a whole new world, he knew he needed to learn all about it.
He found all his school books in short order then he went in search of the rest. Quidditch through the ages, So you've found out magic's real (a book aimed at muggleborns to familiarize themselves with the wizarding world), Hogwarts, a history, Curses and counter-curses (Bewitch your friends and befuddle your enemies with the latest revenges...), The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and a book entitled Manners and Etiquette for the polite young Wizard all soon found there way into his pile.
He couldn't find anything on wands, much to his disappointment.
He felt almost giddy when he took his books up to the counter. He'd never owned so many books before. Only really the ones in Dudley's second bedroom which was now his. He only had a few and none as good as magic books.
Harry didn't let the feeling take over as he was paying. He still needed to figure out a way so he could read them in the month before he left for school. He had catching up to do.
Hagrid was drunk. Even though he seemed a happy drunk Harry kept carefully out of arms reach. When Hagrid noticed him, he bellowed his name causing every eye to turn towards them once more. And there were more people this time. The giant didn't wait to see if Harry was joining him at his table, he'd already turned back to the man in the cloak who was talking to him.
Harry allowed himself to frown. Now what?
Tom, from behind the bar earlier, seemed to notice once again and called out to Hagrid.
"'Supposed to be taking young Harry home now. Aren't ya Hagrid?"
Hagrid nodded, split his drink on his friend and heaved himself out of the chair. As he unsteadily made his way over to them, Tom tiptoed and stage whispered to a slightly swaying Hagrid.
"Why don't you take him on the Knight Bus? It would be a good thing for Young Harry to know, don't you think?"
"Oh good idea Tom." Hagrid slurred and made his way to the door.
Tom nodded to Harry and he returned the gesture, quickly following Hagrid. Harry decided to forgive Tom for shouting out his name earlier in the day.
"Now the Knigh' Bus is easy, Harry. You jus' hold your wand out to the road." And he thrust his umbrella forwards at the almost empty muggle street.
There was a boom and the air blew into his face and then a triple decker blue bus stood before him. The conductor was already reading though his speech about emergency Wizarding travel. He fell into his chair as the bus took off at unbelievable speeds. Half an hour later, the conductor called out for Little Whinging, Surrey and Harry got up and went to the exit.
Hagrid gave him a wave as he got off. The Giant was staying on the bus and heading for Hogwarts. His very important package had to be delivered to the 'Great Albus Dumbledore'. He watched the bus disappear once more. He still had the envelope that held his train ticket in his hand.
Quickly tucking it away in his new school trunk, Harry took in his surroundings. He wasn't too far from the Dursley's but it would be quite the trek. With a sigh he set off, concentrating on his conundrum.
How was he to keep his things? There was no way the Dursley's would let him put his trunk in his new room. They wouldn't let him read his new books and learn everything he needed to before school started. They never cared when Harry got rubbish marks at school. They wanted that, so everyone could see that Dudley was the best in every way.
But Dudley could never be the best at magic. He was just a muggle. And Harry wasn't going to let them hold him back any more. He was going to be the best he could be. He just needed a plan.
Usually when Harry needed a plan it was to get more food or how best to hide from Dudley and his friends. This was different however. How to manipulate the Dursley's into something he obviously wanted?
There was nothing he could trade as he wasn't prepared to give Vernon any of his money. It was his and he'd find a good use for it. And he couldn't openly defy his Uncle in anyway as it would just lead to a beating and he'd lose his stuff too. He couldn't just hide his trunk somewhere either. They knew he was going to be buying his school stuff.
He thought back to when Madam Malkin had given him his parcel of clothes. He'd been sure it couldn't all fit in there but she assured him, she'd shrunk his clothes and he just needed to tap it with his wand and it would unshrink. That kind of thing didn't count as underage magic she'd said.
It was getting dark and he was thankful when he passed the library. It was shut but he could stop there and try his idea without anyone seeing. Close to the locked door and surrounded by shadows, Harry opened his trunk and looked through his books.
He picked out the Quidditch book. If it all went wrong and his book exploded or caught fire at least it would only be a book on sport and not his more important school books. He'd never been very good at sport anyway. That was probably because no one at school ever let him play since he was a pretty good runner with all the practise he'd got.
He held it in his hands, giving it a once over with a critical eye. He concentrated on the weight of it, the size of it between his hands. Small. He needed it smaller. Shrunk. He pictured the book shrinking in his hands until it could fit in his pocket, while reaching for the feeling of his magic.
There was a familiar tingling warmth and the book started to get smaller and smaller. When it sat in the palm of his hand, Harry allowed a flicker of a smile to creep across his face. It was always good when he did something new with his power. Soon he'd be learning more than he ever imagined, he was sure.
He quickly picked out a few of his school books and a couple of the extra ones he bought, including So you've found out magic's real and shrunk them down, putting them in his pocket. He picked up his wand box, pulling that out and stuffing it into his sock. Everything else would just have to stay where it was.
He moved slightly quicker after that, unsure how long his books would stay shrunk.
The living room light was on and Harry could see his relatives through the window, watching the TV. He didn't expect them to be doing anything else. They probably hoped he'd never be coming back. With a sigh, Harry walked up the drive and knocked on the door.
He saw Aunt Petunia flutter the nets to see who it was knocking after dark.
"It's the boy." He heard her call out haughtily and Vernon answered in grumbles and his heavy tread as he made for the door.
The door swung open and an arm reached out grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.
"Back again, are you?" Uncle Vernon scowled at Harry as though he had just walked dog poo into their nice clean house.
"I don't leave until the first of September, Sir." Harry informed him.
It was then that his Uncle's eyes were drawn down to look at his new trunk. He paled slightly, probably from imagining all the magic things that were inside, before going bright red and snatching it from Harry's hands. Just as Harry had predicted. Harry only held on to give the impression that his Uncle was winning in someway.
"There'll be none of that nonsense in this house! This rubbish is staying locked up." And he shook the case at Harry.
Harry kept his face carefully blank as he watched his Uncle stuff his trunk into his cupboard and lock the door behind him. When his Uncle turned back to him, Harry braced himself.
"Now get up to your room," Uncle Vernon pushed him sharply into the bottom step causing him to lose him footing and hit his head against the far wall. " I don't want to see you till morning. And don't you think for a second that you're going to be SLACKING OFF UNTIL YOU GO OFF TO THAT FREAK SCHOOL!" His Uncle shouted at him as he hurriedly got to his feet and clambered up the stairs.
His room was dark but he soon flicked the old broken lamp on. His plan had succeeded. Now he had work to do.
He spent every moment he could reading the books he had snuck up into his room. He found a loose floorboard and enough space underneath to store all his books and more. He slowly added all his books and his Hogwarts Letter as he rescued them from the cupboard under the stairs.
At the weekend he decided to go back to the alley. He'd concentrated on his muggleborn's introduction and his book on Wizarding etiquette. He wanted to go back and really see what there was to see. Ask more questions to the shopkeepers about what was on offer.
So he took the Knight bus again and passed swiftly through the Leaky Cauldron with his head down in case anyone recognised him. He slipped on one of the robes he'd bought at Madam Malkins over the top of his over-sized muggle clothes. They made him stick out as much as anything.
Harry had planned to have another look round Flourish and Blotts again before he left but at the moment he wanted to explore a bit more. The first thing that caught his eye was a shop with a large pair of spectacles hanging instead of a sign. He'd had the bargain bin glasses his Aunt had picked out for almost three years. Not only was one of the arms slightly bent, Dudley had also broke the middle in two not long after he got them and he'd fixed them cello tape from school but they didn't make things as clear as he thought things ought to be. He knew they made him look even more scruffy and likely to cause trouble. He didn't want to make that kind of impression in the Wizarding World.
He pushed the door open, a bell ringing over head, and hoped they didn't only take appointments. A short witch bustled in from the back room.
She seemed shocked that he'd come on his own. He told her he was old enough, just short. She giggled and showed him to the back room.
"So, can you fix my eyes then?" He asked her casually after she'd had a look into both his eyes and waved her wand at them a bit.
She frowned and huffed at the results. Then she picked up his glasses and did a spell on them as well.
"You know these aren't in your prescription, Dearie?" Her brows knitted together.
He made an almost humourless chuckle and gave her a half smile and a shrug. He'd seen the postman do this to the woman across the street when he'd been gardening. He thought they were having an affair but she forgave him whatever they were fighting about, so he gave it a try on the very adult witch. "I did notice, yes."
She returned with a warm smile and moved on. "Well it seems with the right glasses, your vision may have been corrected a long time ago relatively easy. Now it looks like we caught it just in time."
She went over to one of the cupboards, spelling it open and pulling out a glass container.
"Here. This'll clear everything up as much as it can. We'll do another little check after it's finished doing its work." And she poured out a portion into a cup and offered it to him.
Harry hesitated. He remembered a time when Aunt Petunia had given him something that she wanted him to believe was water. It wasn't. It had burned his mouth and throat but she'd made him drink it all. He'd been so sick, Harry had truly thought he was going to die. When he didn't Vernon had given him a back hand across the face. Now he was older he had a suspicion that the liquid had been Vodka or something similar.
But this woman didn't know who he was. Harry had been careful to keep his scar covered by his fringe and watched her the whole time in case she saw it. And this was her job. Helping Wizards with their eyesight. He didn't think she was trying to poison him so he took it.
Not having the handicap of glasses anymore was worth the slight risk.
It took a minute or two before the other side of the office started to become clearer. It was like someone lifting a veil off his eyes. He blinked and let a small smile come to his face. Victory!
The witch did a few more checks and declared his eyesight perfect. He took great joy in throwing his glasses in the bin. She encouraged him to come back next year to make sure his eyes hadn't regressed at all. He gave her wave as he left.
The next shop that caught his interest was a second-hand store. It was a bit dark and very dusty but it was the kind of shop one might come across anything. As it was he found a thick winter cloak that was a deep moss green with thick grey fur on the inside. He suspected it would keep him warm if he decided to travel across the Baltic. It was even warm to the touch like his blankets were when he forced warmth into them. The magic never lasted through the night and the first time he tried to improve he had caused a small fire and had to spend the weekend trying to smuggle the ruined blanket out into one of the neighbour's bins.
He also found some worn books that looked interesting. After reading the most recent chapter in Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts and getting a fuller picture of the war against Lord Voldemort, he realised that while most of the Wizarding world thought him some kind of Hero, there were also people out there who supported the Dark Lord and would be out for his blood. The fans weren't the only reason he didn't want to be noticed. Plus The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble seemed like weak sauce to him. It was mostly theory with only a few curses and counter-curses and a disarming spell near the end.
So he was especially pleased when he found a book on Duelling technique and tactics. He also found a book that looked to be about surveillance and counter-surveillance spells. It didn't say that in so many words. It had a rather long-winded title but after a look at what information it contained it was practically a guide to being a spy. He couldn't help but think that would be useful. The others covered a wide range of subjects including charms and potions.
He'd been keeping his wand in his sock. It was Vernon's sock so it went half way up his shin and he felt his wand was secure there. Then as he reached the counter to pay for his haul, his eyes passed over something and felt them immediately drawn back. A wand holster. He wasn't sure how he knew that since he hadn't read or seen one.
It was black leather made from some kind of lizard. It had to ornate brass buckles that shone where it attached to the arm.
"Ah! I see that's caught your eye, like most boys your age." The owner of the store said, bringing his attention back to his surroundings.
"How much?" He asked, nodding towards the exquisite piece.
"Twenty Galleons." He answered starting to go through the books Harry had put there.
"Twenty?" Harry frowned, it was alot of money, especially for a second-hand store. "What's so special then?"
It was dragon skin, which meant magically resistant; people couldn't summon or disarm your wand if it was inside the holster. The previous owner had managed to weave a charm into it as well that meant if you pressed your little finger to your thumb together, your wand jumped into your hand. Harry felt his eyes widen slightly as the owner went on. Who ever had previously owned the holster was a serious kind of guy.
"If it works like you say it does, I'll take it aswell." Harry told him when the man finished the glowing recommendation.
He looked doubtful for a second so Harry frowned at him and put on slight heirs he'd seen Aunt Petunia do. She was the best actor apart from Harry at Privet drive.
"I have the money." As though offended that the owner could possibly think anything else.
He looked a bit embarrassed before demonstrating the holster with his own wand. It worked perfectly. Harry left the shop with the holster and his wand strapped to his right arm and his purchases shrunk down to fit in his pocket. When he came out of the shop it was midday and it was getting a little bit more crowded.
So Harry made his way across the street and ducked into Flourish and Blotts to give it another once over before heading back to Privet Drive. After spending almost two weeks going through the books he already bought, he had a better idea of where he lacked knowledge. The first thing he looked for was a more in-depth look at basic magical theory covering most of the branches of magic. He also found two that went more into potions ingredients and equipment and why they interacted the way they did. One of the books was aimed at children at around seven or eight having their first foray into the Art of Potions-making. He only felt a little silly buying it.
He also ended up buying a fictional book. He figured it was cultural and would help him understand how Wizards who'd lived in the world there whole life saw things.
He made it back out of The Leaky Cauldron, after he'd taken off and rolled up his robes and summoned the Knight Bus. It took him back to Little Whinging in less that half an hour. He got back to the Dursley's to find Aunt Petunia high pitched voice.
"Finally back are you?" She pursed her lips and snapped. "There's laundry that needs doing."
She didn't even seem to notice that his glasses were missing.