Disclaimer: Characters from the Harry Potter series are the property of J.K. Rowling and various publishers: including but not limited to Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the writing of this story.

Year One
Unsteady Reality
-+-
Chapter Two
Ripples

It didn't take a great deal of effort on Harry's part to make his way to the cozy little Inn where he would be staying. After checking out of the Leaky Cauldron, while making sure to thank Tom for the room, he just had to walk a ways away, no more than a block or two, and wave down the Knight Bus in all of its violently purple, three-decker glory.

Oh, it was a bumpy ride, like always, with the armchairs that replaced the four-posters during the day sliding every which way, but it had suited Harry just fine. Smiling as shyly as he could, he simply paid for the ride and quietly gave the address of the Inn in Wimborne and he was set.

No suspicions, no recognition, nothing.

Stan didn't even ask his name, though he seemed somewhat curious all the same. All in all, Harry was quite happy with the whole thing, and quite proud of his sneakiness, as well.

The Inn itself was a big farmhouse turned into a bed and breakfast kind of place; it was very hospitable looking and rather welcoming as well. Mrs. Dante, a plump, elderly witch of at least one hundred, with salt and pepper hair and a kind disposition greeted him warmly at the door, probably being alerted of his presence by the racket that the Bus made when arriving and departing.

He was immediately led to a roomy dining area, with a long table that could easily sit twenty people, and told to eat up, what with it being lunch time and everything. "Mr. Dante is giving your room a last look-over, dear, and our elf will take your trunk up while you eat. If you need anything, anything at all, you just need to ask. After all, we promised your guardians to look after you," Mrs. Dante told him as he sat down; fussing a bit over him until the food appeared on the table; and he had to admit, the spread looked delicious.

"Is there anyone else in the Inn, Mrs. Dante?" he asked, serving himself, even as he looked around everywhere he could, craning his neck and being as rude and curious as an eleven year old was supposed to be. There didn't look to be anyone else as far as he could see, but it was summertime and he doubted that he was the only one there.

"Oh yes, dear," the old lady answered from where she was pouring herself a cup of tea, "We have two couples staying with us for the next few days, and another young man, who I think is aiming to play for the Wasps, is staying until his tryouts are finished."

Well, that helped quite a bit actually. Still, he needed to use his time wisely and without arousing suspicious. He was glad, however, that the kind old witch was rather chatty as she sat opposite him with her cup of tea, "The poor dear has been put through his paces, I've heard, and he only comes by at night, dead tired. It's awful, really, they should give him a bit more time to rest, but then, he looks so excited to go each and every day, even after he comes dragging his feet at night, droopy-eyed and completely knackered and I haven't the heart to speak up."

Harry was quite intrigued by this and hoped that he'd be able to talk to the Quidditch player, "What position is he trying out for then? He must be really good if they're working him so hard, right? Do you think he might teach me how o fly a broom? I haven't really learned how to fly yet, but it would be brilliant to learn and do all those wicked tricks!" And though he was rather interested about it, he deliberately added more questions and more excitement to his tone that he would have usually used, taking a leaf out of Kevin's book. He might not be eleven, but it would be best if he acted like it while he was here.

At least for now.

Hogwarts would be a different story, though. He would need to be himself there or risk being caught in a web of lies. But then, the attention he would receive at the school because of his knowledge and manner would be almost inevitable to avoid. He would probably be labeled as a prodigy or something of the sort, and truthfully, he didn't mind. In fact, he looked forward to it slightly. If the teachers realized that he 'learned' the material at an abnormally fast pace, maybe he wouldn't have to suffer through seven years of schooling again. It was bad enough that he took the classes once; he wasn't planning on doing it all over again. Not if he could help it, at least.

However, while he would be Harry Potter at Hogwarts, and indeed, his supposed brilliance would just add fuel to his legend, he wasn't Harry Potter at the moment, and he wanted to call the least amount of attention to himself as possible. And if that meant acting more like an eleven year old around the Dante's, well, so be it.

So he chattered on with Mrs. Dante, who was more than happy to talk to him. She told him of all the sights that he might be able to visit in and around Wimborne, along with any number of idle gossips about those staying in the Inn at the moment. Nothing malicious, of course. She didn't seem to be that kind of person, but she delighted in telling him just how wonderful they were and how much they enjoyed visiting this and that, what with both couples being there to sightsee. Not to mention the many anecdotes of previous patrons and so on.

If nothing else, Mrs. Dante was a wonderful storyteller.

When lunch was done, though, and Harry finally allowed his tiredness to catch up with him, Mr. Dante, a rather tall and distinguished looking wizard with a stern air about him, showed him to his room, telling him about the few rules that he was expected to follow; times for meals, telling them if he ever needed anything or if he was going out to do anything and so on; Nothing unreasonable, really, but things that restricted his movements all the same.

He wasn't put out by it though, as he really hadn't expected anything less, but it did make things a little harder for him. After all, he needed to visit Hogsmeade one of these days, if it was at all possible, so he would see about worming himself into their good graces just in case he was stuck with them for more time than planned. That way, if he was staying in the Inn for the rest of the summer, he could see if they would help him in that endeavor instead of hinder him.

It was a small goal to accomplish at least.

Thanking Mr. Dante profusely upon seeing his room, which was at least twice as big as the one he had in the Leaky Cauldron and far more welcoming, what with its crème colors and light furniture, Harry neatly flopped himself onto the bed, earning himself an amused smile out of the old man. Grinning back, he quickly jumped to his feet again and opened his trunk, smiling as the old wizard came closer to look it over.

To say that he was impressed with it would be lying, especially when Hedwig's perch popped up from the top. He immediately made sure to settle his friend comfortably at once, and poured some water and food into their little containers, earning a grateful hoot from the snowy owl. The next few minutes were spent telling Mr. Dante about the other features of his trunk, in a very eager tone, of course, and showing him the shelving compartment as he snatched out the book on how to play the flute; the middle compartment when he took out the flute itself, and well, the chest of drawers spoke for itself, especially after they started moving about when he was looking for his pajamas for later.

"A rather impressive purchase, to be sure," Mr. Dante commented, "I wish there had been one of these when I went to Hogwarts, myself, I can tell you that." Still, what surprised him more than anything was what the old wizard told him as he was making his way out of the room, "And if you're learning to play that flute, lad," the old man signaled toward the book he was leafing through, "You might want to ask Elisabeth; My wife," he elaborated at his confused look, "she's a rather proficient player herself, so she could give you a few pointers. After that, well, she might know someone who could teach you."

"Really?" he said, rather excited by the prospect of finding someone to teach him, "Thanks Mr. Dante!"

The old wizard just nodded and headed out, leaving him to flop happily back into his bed. Okay, so maybe acting like an eleven year old wouldn't be as hard as he thought, pulling his book closer to start reading, even if his mind was not exactly all there.

After all, while learning to play the flute would probably help keep him entertained, there were still a few things that he had set in motion that should bear fruit soon, or at least he hoped that was the case. Even if the Dante's and their Inn was everything he had been hoping for, it was still several days before his birthday, and thus, more than a month before Hogwarts.

He didn't want to spend all of that time here, that's for sure; it would be difficult enough to start influencing change, he didn't need to make it more so by doing it where he could be discovered. Bees, after all, had a nasty habit of finding the people poking at their hive, stick or no, when they were close enough to be seen.

And they were usually rather unhappy to be poked, he was sure.

-
- o -
-

Things settled rather rapidly after that first day, and the rest of his stay passed calmly and unremarkably, even his birthday, which he didn't mention to the old innkeepers less he might somehow be linked to Harry Potter. It was better to be paranoid than be caught, after all. On another note, though, Elisabeth Dante turned out to be a very patient teacher even though she liked playing the piano best, and not to forget that she was right helpful while he was learning to read the music as well.

One of the couples staying at the Inn left shortly after he arrived, and a few more people came and registered, some for a night, others for more. To tell the truth, he didn't really pay that much attention to the comings and goings, keeping mostly to himself and only really interacting with the Dante's.

He didn't even catch a glimpse of the Quidditch player, but then, he was too engrossed with his studies to even remember him, so it wasn't that big of a loss.

As things stood, apart from learning the flute, he was re-reading some of his first year text books, which he found surprisingly more informative than before, and markedly easier to understand, but then, that could be attributed to the fact that the first time he read them he had only skimmed them to search for the information he needed and nothing more, and that the books themselves were made for the understanding of eleven year olds, which he was not. Then again, he didn't really read more than was needed unless Hermione was pestering him. This time, though, since he was really paying attention, a lot of things they explained became clearer and he learned more than a couple of facts that he hadn't even thought of before.

Especially when it came to transfiguration and potions.

He didn't dare practice his wand work, of course, since he wasn't quite sure about it or the Trace, so he decided to use his time exploring the town and just aimlessly walking about. It was both relaxing and somewhat soothing. A rather violent change of pace from a war, but then, maybe that was just what he needed. Besides, he found quite a few interesting places where he hung out from time to time, always keeping in mind to not worry his current caretakers. The last thing he wanted was for them to worry and do something drastic, after all.

So he kept his head down and his nose clean, as they say.

It was almost a week after his birthday that he received the owl that he had been waiting for, and it lifted quite a weight from his shoulders. Two weeks was alright for a family emergency, but Harry didn't really want to push it. The Dante's hadn't really asked about it directly, but they had been sending owls to his supposed guardians every few days, which were, of course, delivered to him later on because of the drop-box.

They were getting worried, though, even if they said in their letters that he was a wonderful child. In short, they were starting to wonder and starting to question, and that was never a good thing when you wanted to remain unnoticed. So when Gornuk finally sent him an owl, he was more than slightly relieved.

It was short, but really, it didn't need any more information:

Mr. H. Potter

Your requests have been fulfilled.
We shall meet in two days time on
#3 Remembrance Road, Norfolk.

Gornuk

And so, with a lighter heart than before Harry set everything into motion, writing the letters he would need and sending them off as soon as he could; one confirming the day with the Goblin and another to be mailed to the Dante's, stating that his 'guardians' would be returning home in two days time, and to please send him on the Knight Bus to meet them, adding the payment for his stay and a more than generous tip, just to be safe.

He made sure to follow the same tone as the other letters he had sent the Dante's, along with enough vague information on the resolution of the family emergency to appease their curiosities. Really, it was amazing what people would believe when you tell them things in just the right way.

That day, Harry didn't pack or do anything out of the ordinary, he simply continued reading, exploring and learning to play the flute, which he was still horrible with, being a beginner and all. Thankfully, though, he was starting to get the hang of it and he could at least string a few notes together without messing up, which he thought was rather brilliant, all things considered.

However, it wasn't until the day after next that Elisabeth told him that his 'Guardians' had sent him a letter and told him to pack up that night, since he would be leaving the next day. She had a sad expression on her face as she told him this and Harry felt a pang of remorse at having to lie to her, especially by explaining the family emergency as his grandparents being in an accident and finally passing away recently.

It wasn't original, true, but it was a classic story and one that people could relate to.

"Now, dear, do you have everything packed?" Mrs. Dante asked him as they were headed towards the door, his trunk floating neatly behind them.

"Yes, ma'am, I double-checked everything again this morning."

"Good lad," Mr. Dante nodded as he turned to them from where he stood, upon the threshold of the front door, "Now, did your family give you the address that you are to meet them at?"

"Yes, sir," he patted his pocket, "I have it right here, along with enough change to pay for the bus." He was sure to smile convincingly at that, adding a touch of pride to his tone as well. He was supposed to be a thoughtful young boy, after all.

"Well, off you go then dear, have a safe trip," Mrs. Dante said, handing him a folded paper bag, "here are some biscuits I baked for your journey, since I know you didn't have any pudding."

"Oh! Thanks Mrs. Dante! And thank you for everything else as well; I really appreciate all the help you've given me with my flute!" He said, beaming.

"It's no trouble at all, dear, and you've learned exceptionally fast. I bet you'll have a decent score going by the end of the summer, though practice is a must."

"Of course, I'll keep at it and see about getting myself a teacher. Hopefully I'll be able to find someone close to home," he chattered on, "if not, do you think Ms. Dionard, that's her name right? Will be able to teach me the rest of the summer?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Mrs. Dante teasingly asked, "I'll send her an owl and see what she says, like I promised, and I'll let you know as soon as I can, how's that?"

"That'd be brilliant, ma'am! Thanks!"

"Ahem," Mr. Dante cleared his throat, a smile twisting at his lips, "I think that its time for the lad to get going, right, Elisabeth?"

Checking on her watch, the old witch gave a start, "Dear me, your right, your Aunt will worry if we delay you any longer," and with that, they ushered him out into the drive and hailed down the Knight Bus before turning toward him and quick hug, "Now, you be good, dear. Try and visit sometime, you hear?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" he chirped, shaking hands with Mr. Dante and then heading up into the Bus, waving at the elderly couple until he was hurtled across the floor by the triple-decker departing with a Bang.

Well, he thought with a smile as he tried to straighten himself up, that couldn't have gone any better, if I do say so myself.

Finally picking himself up, he quickly told the address to Stan, giving the same fake name that he'd been using when he was asked and unsteadily made his way toward an armchair, which was not exactly easy to catch.

His thoughts drifted though, as passenger after passenger either boarded or got off of the bus. There were quite a few witches and wizards around, but most of them unloaded either at the Leaky Cauldron, the Ministry, or like a mother and her son, whose arms were growing teeth, to St. Mungo's.

By the time the Bus turned toward Norfolk it was almost empty, which suited him just fine. As things stood, and as he checked with his Dimensional Sight, as he liked to call it, he was still the only thing that looked solid. True, he had made a small impact in the Dante's and their Inn, but nothing that would last for long. He had three weeks left before Hogwarts started or thereabouts, and he had a great many ideas of what actions he could take jotted down in one of his three journals.

The third small journal, however, was filled with facts. Things he knew had happened and things he knew that were going to happen. This last, though, was divided further into events that he could change and influence, and those he could not. It had taken him quite a bit of time of shifting though his memories, one at a time, in his new Pensift. But it was worth it. He had been able to get dates or approximate times of most of the events of his six years at Hogwarts, and one year on the run, allowing him to compile a sort of timeline.

True, he hadn't gone over every single one of his memories, just the important ones, and even then, just the ones that stuck out in his own mind. He had, however, taken special interest in searching for his memories of various breakfasts at the Dursley's, and most importantly, those where his Uncle Vernon was reading the paper.

It was truly remarkable, the things that your subconsciously registered in a memory, but what Harry was most interested in was the information that he could find there; especially in the economic section of the newspaper.

He had quite a few pages of his journal filled with potential investments, though there were a few highlighted that he had already started with. As things stood, while he didn't have a fortune at his disposal, he did have enough money that with the right investments, some good management and just a bit of patience, he would be able to make himself one.

However, he wasn't doing this for the money, though it certainly didn't hurt him, but more because by investing wisely he would be able to affect the economic world enough to cause ripples, and ripples caused change. Change being, after all, his ultimate goal. It would take time, true, maybe a year or two for the ripples made by his investments to truly affect more than his vault, but it was worth a try, especially with a few ideas he had that would speed some companies along. So he spent some time every day looking at the memories and looking for information that could help him.

He had, after all, a long way to go.

Not to mention that while change in the Muggle World was one of his long term goals, it was the Magical World that filled his short-term plans. Yes, plans. He had more than one of them up his sleeve; some of them sneaky enough to make a Slytherin green with envy, he was sure. But then, they do say that hindsight was twenty-twenty, didn't they?

And as the Knight Bus finally neared Norfolk, after more time then he could remember ever spending on it, and it came to a sudden stop, Harry was more than ready to start on one of those plans as soon as possible. After all, there was much for him to do; so very much.

"Number Three Remembrance Road, Norfolk," Stanyelled from the front of the Bus and Harry quickly made his way out, his trunk being placed beside him and goodbye's being exchanged before the Bus disappeared from sight.

It took him more than a second or two to get his legs to stop wobbling, though.

Looking around, Harry could easily see that he was in the middle of nowhere. He was standing on an overgrown dirt road that vanished to his right and out of sight. To his left there was nothing but trees and fields, and really, nothing but wilderness and open spaces. Right in front of him, though, the road curbed into the driveway, if you could call it that, of a small cottage; a cottage that wasn't really much to look at.

At all.

The thatched roof was in disrepair, the paint was chipping, the gardens were overgrown just like the street and some of the windows were cracked. The front door looked to be sagging in its cast-iron hinges, and Harry could swear that the chimney was looking at him.

Or maybe it was just falling?

Whatever the case, it didn't look pretty.

"Does it meet your expectations, Mr. Potter?" Gornuk's voice came suddenly from beside him. No greetings were necessary and nothing more needed to be said, even if it would sound rude to others. This was business, plain and simple.

"It looks perfect," and really, for what he needed it, it did, "But tell me Gornuk, is it known?" And this was the most important part of it. If the house or property was known and someone stumbled upon it, or came to visit it only to find him, it could be disastrous. So he had asked for a forgotten property and given a set of minimum requirement. And as he walked up the driveway pulling his trunk along as they made their way up toward the run-down cottage while trying to take it all in at once, well, it sure did look like it met them.

The minimum, that is.

"It has been forgotten, Mr. Potter, and I have made sure that it stays that way."

"Good, but how are the surroundings?" he asked.

"The property comes with nearly fifteen square miles of surrounding lands, and then, the closest inhabitants live a few miles down the road. The muggle town of Narborough is some seven miles away from the edges of the property, and indeed, you could probably buy the rest of the magical owned land without much trouble seeing as it is all extremely low-priced. As is, the family that owned this particular terrain died out some time ago. However, the muggle-repelling charms are still in place, so they have no idea that such a big stretch of land is quite as close as it is."

"That sounds about right," he commented, pushing the door open after turning the huge cast-iron key that the goblin had handed him. The insides were as run down as the outside, but still livable. It actually reminded him of Grimmauld Place, just without the dreary, oppressing feeling of the Black House. There was dust everywhere, a hole on the thatched roof and a small spot of rotted wood beneath that hole, but that was the most obvious of the damage. A true fixer-upper if he had ever seen one.

He didn't find any sign of nasty critters though, and he supposed that he'd have to thank the Goblin for that as well.

"The last wizard to inhabit this dwelling died some ten years ago and it has fallen, along with the surroundings, into disrepair," Gornuk continued after Harry had set down his trunk and started looking around, curious, "It has two bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen, and we are currently standing in the dining and living rooms. There is a ladder from the second room into a small attic, and an entrance to a cellar outside of the kitchen."

"Good, and how about the rest of the land, anything special around?" Harry asked while peeking his head into the bedrooms, one of which was fairly large, and poking about the ladder to the attic that was located in the second one. Truthfully, he would need to replace that; he didn't want to break his neck when the ladder broke under his feet.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, there is a small fen that crosses through the northwestern corner of the property, within the woods. There are some herb gardens and fields and such that have overgrown, and another small lake just at the edge of the property itself, along the southern edge, which is where the Walton family cottage resides, which while in not quite the state as this one, is the only other wizarding property in the area. I am still making inquiries to buy it from them, since the only daughter of that family does not actually use the property."

Personally, Harry liked it, more for the location than anything else. It was isolated from the outside by woods, while fields spread far and wide to the south of the property. He could bet that potion ingredients where once grown on those fields as well, in addition to the woods, but he wasn't sure. He would have to check that out.

Smiling after coming from the cellar out back, which was rather humid, he found Gornuk waiting for him, "Like I said, its perfect, so I'll take it," he said, nodding decisively. It wouldn't be finished this summer, but it could be finished by the next, if he hired the right people. Besides, it would be his first home and while it wasn't much, apart from the huge amounts of land, which had come cheaper than he could ever imagine, it certainly gave him room to grow. He could make something of the Potter name, and who knows, maybe he would be able to build some grand manor house someday!

He laughed at himself for a bit, feeling more than happy with his decisions, "Very well, Mr. Potter, if you will just sign these?"

And as he flipped through the documents, using the top of his trunk as a table, he began to make a mental list of the things he would need first and foremost, which included furniture and food, to name a few. He signed where he needed and made sure to understand everything before he did so, feeling more and more satisfied as he went on.

Still, it was as he was signing the next to last papers that an idea occurred to him, "Gornuk, tell me, where would I be able to hire myself a House Elf?"

"Hire, Mr. Potter? There are a few places where you might be able to buy a House Elf, but never hire."

"Ah, well, where could I buy one, then?" he asked, somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of buying an elf, "And how much would one cost?"

"There is a rather highly regarded place in Hogsmeade, which I seem to remember you wanting to visit sometimes soon, and as for the price, that varies depending on what you want your elf to be capable of; Cook? Clean? Garden? That sort of thing. However, a basically trained elf is still rather expensive."

Weary, Harry handed the signed documents to the goblin, just imagining how expensive a house elf could be. Still, asking wasn't worth anything, and an elf would be extremely useful to him in the future. If nothing else, he could always wait until later, a year or two, and hire Dobby, but again, that was two years away. Could he afford not to have such help? So he asked, "And just how much are we talking about here, Gornuk?

"Let me put it this way, Mr. Potter. From your available funds, which are about thirty percent of your current gold, you would need a third to buy yourself a basically trained elf. The price after that begins to rise, should you require the elf to have different skills."

Shocked, Harry almost sat down on the dusty floor. Almost a third of all his available money? Bloody hell! And to think, he had already converted fifteen percent of his available thirty into an investment account. That would only leave him with five percent, and he would still need to hire a few enchanters to protect his new property, not to mention the cost of the property itself, and what repairing it will cost.

He didn't have that sort of money.

At least, not at the moment. And the investments he was entering in wouldn't see any profit for a year at most, Christmas at the soonest. He had enough gold on him for food and necessities for this summer, with a bit more for the school year. But how about the rest? Quickly, he looked for his journals, or should he start calling the one with money matters a ledger? He didn't know, and really, he didn't care at the moment.

Sitting on the dusty floor at last, he began crunching numbers, asking the goblin for prices and ideas, as well as how his first investments were doing.

Luckily, he had already paid the goblin for his assistance until Hogwarts started, and though it didn't come cheaply, he knew that the investment manager wouldn't have taken him seriously without Gornuk there to smooth things out. Not to mention the fact that the assessor had been able to find him the property in which they were standing at that very moment.

That, if anything, was a good investment in his mind, especially since he was supposed to be only an eleven year old kid with no prior knowledge of magic.

However, upon seeing the disrepair in which the house was, the idea of finding a House Elf to help him in fixing it was rather easy to come by. And while he was sure that he could do it himself, it would take him too long, especially without the ability to do magic. Still, as he checked his books he saw a way to make it happen. If he dipped into his emergency funds and scrapped everything else together, he would just be able to pull through.

True, he wouldn't have anything left after all was said and done, save for a little emergency gold and his untouchable Hogwarts funds, but it would be worth it to see the cottage repaired sooner, and his investments would have replenished his funds by next summer. Or at least he hoped that was the case.

"Okay, I think I can afford an Elf," he sighed, looking around him once again and noticing the speculative look on the goblin's eye as he finally handed back the paperwork and contracts before stowing away his journals. He wouldn't be able to do more than equip the kitchen with the basics and buy himself a bed, furniture wise, but that was fine, he thought, while taking into account foodstuffs and other necessities. It would have to do.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Everything seems to be in order here," Gornuk said, rolling the sheaf of parchment before it disappeared into one of his pockets. "Now, if you so desire, I could take you to Hogsmeade and show you were the Elves are sold. Should you buy one, it could transport you back here after you are finished. Not to mention that with your authorization, I would be able to pay for the purchase without you having to visit your vault. I would just withdraw the amount when I make my way back to the Bank."

"I think that would be best, thanks Gornuk," he nodded, standing up and dusting himself a bit. Looking around again, because he couldn't help himself, he started smiling. This was his, now. His own house. The thought was enough to make his smile grow bigger and bigger.

This was his home.

Great Merlin, it hadn't even sunk in until that moment.

He was almost jumping on the balls of his feet, beaming at anything and everything, just looking around with awe in his face, eyes shining. For the first time since he could remember, he had a Home. Someplace that was truly, really, his. And though it wasn't much, and it would need a lot of work, it was still more than he could have imagined having. More than he had ever though he would have.

Until his Hogwarts letter came, he hadn't been able to grasp the concept of a place to call his own, and until his sixth year, the only thing that came close was Hogwarts. And let's face it; he hadn't even known that he was going to survive the war, that he would be able to live a normal life. Or at least as normal a life as he could.

But now...

"Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" the goblin assessor asked, face blank, as he held up an ornate looking key. And just like that, Harry was brought back to the present. Just what would the goblin make out of him, he wondered? Nodding, though, he stepped forward, and after looking about once more, put his finger on the key.

He didn't know where the portkey came from, and at the moment, he didn't care. All he knew was that he had a Home now, and that it needed work, and he just couldn't wait to get started.

-
- o -
-

They arrived in a back-alley with Harry toppling sideways upon arrival and looking with dazed eyes at a very amused goblin. Right. That's why he hated portkeys, he remembered, and couldn't wait to see about a way to at least circumvent the Trace so he could apparate.

If it was possible to do so, of course.

As a matter of fact, wasn't the Trace supposed to record magical activity around the underage witch or wizard? And, well, shit. If that was the case, then the Ministry already knew where he was, didn't it? And they could already be keeping an eye out for him.

Looking around nervously, he straightened somewhat and scrambled to catch up to the departing goblin. Well, nothing had happened yet, so maybe something was interfering with the Trace? Would he be able to actually do magic, though? And that brought up a sudden question in his mind. Something that could very well explain why everything was happening so smoothly; why Mr. Number Seven didn't notice him in his car, or why the Hairdresser didn't comment on his scar, and even why no one seemed to really notice him unless he wanted them to.

Are you here? Are you watching out for me? He thought, still looking this way and that as Gornuk led the way to the westernmost side of Hogsmeade.

He didn't expect an answer, though, and almost jumped out of his skin when he got one, "I am." And as a cold wind ruffled his hair, he couldn't help but ask, couldn't really stop himself from it. It should have unnerved him, really, but it didn't. It should have made him nervous, but that simple answer only served to reassure him. But still, there was something that nagged at him, something that he had just been wondering about…

Can I do magic? He asked with his mind, certain now, more than ever, that He was listening. But. If he could do magic… If the Trace had been somehow removed, or was being blocked… the problems that it would solve for him.

"For the next week, you can," came his answer in the wind; a mere whisper of words and then it was gone. But it was enough; more than enough. And with such news still ringing in his ears he almost whooped for joy right there and then, and it took a supreme effort on his part to only grin like a loon because of it.

He had a week, a whole week of being able to use magic. And though he understood the meaning behind that statement, that he would be alone and on his own after that week, it was still more than he had expected. More than he had any right to expect.

"We are here, Mr. Potter," his goblin associate said, startling him out of his reverie.

"Oh? Right," he nodded sheepishly, ruffling his hair as he took note of his new surroundings. In all honestly, he had never seen this part of Hogsmeade before. He knew that the Forbidden Forest was on the other side of the wizarding village, but that was about it.

Now, as he looked at the two story country house, standing innocuously in front of him, Harry was sure that he would never have pegged it for a place where House Elf's were sold. True, the house wasn't exactly straight, and the roof had an interesting twist about it that could only be attributed to magic; not to mention that the shutters in every window, and indeed, every window in the house, were completely mismatched.

But that was normal, wasn't it? And it did give the house a distinctive charm.

"This way, sir," Gornuk said, leading the way toward the front door and knocking firmly a few times. The knock sounded loud, though, and he was very surprised when the door opened right away, though not by an Elf, as he was half-expecting. Instead, a weedy looking wizard stood at the doorway, looking down at them with a curled lip.

"How can I help 'ye?" he asked, a strange inflection is his voice, as if English wasn't the language he regularly spoke.

"I am escorting my client in the search of a personal Elf, sir," Gornuk responded, and Harry marveled at the answer for a moment. It was perfectly true and also perfectly vague when you really thought about it. After all, the goblin knew that Harry was aiming to live on his own, something that was against wizarding law. But then, since he was getting paid for his services, he couldn't care less about what another race's law said or not, could he?

Lip curling even more as he was looked up and down, the wizard simply opened the door a bit wider and waved them in, "O' co'rse. I'll look fer' the mistress," and just like that, he departed down a hallway, leaving them standing in the entrance hall of the house without even a backwards glance.

"Pleasant sort, isn't he?" Harry remarked.

"Certainly," his goblin companion answered to his sarcasm, an amused look settling over his pointy features for mere moments.

"Ah! Costumers. I see that Roland wasn't pulling my chain, then," a sturdy looking witch exclaimed as she came towards them; where she popped up from, Harry couldn't say. She had a rolling gate and fraying black hair with squinting eyes. She looked suspicious, really, but then, Snape had always looked suspicious as well, right? "Now, my name is Valerie Tane and I was told you were looking for an Elf, Master Goblin?"

"Almost correct, madam," Gornuk answered with a nod, "I am simply accompanying my young client in his search for a personal elf," the goblin finished, nodding at him, and Harry gave a tentative smile as he shuffled his feet a bit. He saw how his companion was making it look, and if he just stayed quiet, the witch in front of him would assume or put together her own answers.

"I see," she said slowly, looking him up and down and probably taking in his tailored, though simple green robes, before she turned her complete attention toward the goblin, assuming that he was in charge of the purchase. And really, since Gornuk knew what he was looking for in an elf and how much he had to spend, Harry didn't really mind the way that Madam Tane dismissed him. "And what kind of elf are we talking about here?" she asked.

"A young one," the goblin answered immediately, "Not necessarily experienced, though he or she should at least have basic training. As I understand, the Elf would be further trained by the owner," he explained, and though Harry knew that he would be the owner, Gornuk put it in such a way that the witch would think it would be his father or someone of the sort who would be training and paying for the elf. "Apart from that, the elf must be good in repairs and maintenance as well as good for errands and such. Do you have such an elf?"

"Hmm, I have a few that fit that, yes," Madam Tane said absently, her hair waving around wildly as she waved them to follow her, "But let's take this to my office, shall we?" They walked down a dimly lit corridor and into a rather roomy, though messy, office. "Now," the frayed looking witch began as she walked behind her desk and started riffling through some parchments while waving absently at them to take a seat, "I have four Elves that fit those requirements. One of them is just out of basic training, actually; another has just finished household maintenance training, and the other two, while slightly older, are just out of intermediate training, which include actual work experience, gardening, cooking and cleaning. Here are their files."

Harry was really out of his depth here, and he just nodded where it seemed appropriate and read over his companions shoulder as the goblin perused the files. He had never known that there were so many things to consider, or that a House Elf went through so much training. According to what he was reading, there were three levels of training for an Elf, the first covering general service, the second broadening into house maintenance and upkeep, and the third in which every elf specialized in any one field, with each level taking two or three years each.

The first elf on the list had just finished the basics and the second was only about half way through the intermediate course, so he didn't have cooking, gardening or any of that under his belt, though he did have home repair and maintenance covered, but no experience at all.

The other two were just starting their training in their specialized fields. One, the female, was getting trained in gardening, and the second, a male elf, was training up to be a cook. Still, as he watched the number of galleons beside each of their profiles, he had to stop his eyes from popping. It had never registered before now just how much a house elf could cost, but looking at the stark numbers in front of his face he realized with a jolt that it was a small fortune to most of the wizarding world.

A small fortune that few could actually afford.

A small fortune that he certainly couldn't afford.

But as he moved his eyes to look at the prices for the first two elves, he couldn't believe the difference in gold. These two he could actually afford, even if it would leave him without almost any money at the end of it.

"We will see this elf," Gornuk stated, gesturing toward the second profile. The one that just finished maintenance training.

"Certainly," Ms. Tane nodded and snapped her fingers, "Diggy," she called.

A tall, distinguished looking elf in a dirt-covered overall appeared in the office, "Mistress called Diggy?"

"Yes," she answered shortly, reading the profile of the elf Gornuk had requested, "Toppy is in your gardening class, isn't he?" she asked.

"Toppy be in Diggy's class, yes, Mistress."

"Bring him here, then." The elf departed with a pop and the witch turned toward them once again, "Now, while Toppy gets here, do you have any questions?"

"Certainly, ma'am," Gornuk replied, "Could you tell us if the elf could be further trained later on? If I remember correctly, you train bonded elves in specific duties or the whole program from time to time, don't you?"

"We do. Much like a school, you would only need to sign the elf up for the classes, and though each class had its own individual price, the cost is lower than normal when the elf is bonded. It is one of the reasons why so many buy them young and untrained."

"And what's the difference if they're bonded or not?" Harry piped in, more than slightly curious.

The matron just smiled indulgently and answered, though Harry distinctly felt that he was merely being tolerated, "Well young man, its rather simple. Much like a wizard with a wand, an elf would be able to focus their mind and magic better when they are bonded to a wizard, so it is easier for them to learn after a bond is in place. The classes are still expensive; it just takes a bonded elf less time to learn them, is all, so it doesn't cost half as much as when training un-bonded elves."

A moment later, Diggy, the gardening elf appeared in the doorway leading the shortest elf Harry had ever seen. He was at least a head shorter than Dobby and Kreacher, if Harry remembered right and his ears were extra floppy, going as far as to hang rather limply over his head. He was an olive green in color, verging on brown, and had enormously bright brown eyes that were looking at him a bit too intensely, to tell the truth.

"Here be Toppy, Mistress. Can Diggy be doing anything else?"

"No, Diggy, you are dismissed," and as she turned toward the short elf, Harry did something that he couldn't really explain, even days later, "Now, this here is Toppy. I know he is rather small for his age, but he is a most excellent elf and quite gifted with childr—"

"We'll take him," he said firmly, looking at his new elf with a smile, and somewhat surprising himself by his sudden decision. After all, he had decided earlier to allow Gornuk to do the negotiating. Speaking off, "Gornuk, could you make sure to take care of everything? I'm going to head over into the town to buy a few things," standing up at the goblins nod and faint smirk, which he understood better upon seeing how flustered the witch was, he turned to leave, placing a hand on the short elves shoulder, "Now, why don't you come with me Toppy, we can get to know each other better and see about the bonding and all, yeah?"

"O-of course, M'ster," the little elf stuttered a bit, looking rather startled at the action.

And as he started chattering away and making his way out of the house, Toppy right beside him, he could clearly hear the disbelieving words coming out of the office he had just left. Really, though he didn't know much about places like this, he did know a few things about house elves.

Especially the fact that they worked better when bonded by their own will, or found a master that they loved and respected.

So he did what he thought was right and jumped right in. It had worked enough times in the past, hadn't it? "Anyways, did I tell you about the house I just bought?" he chattered at the overwhelmed elf, "It's a mess, I tell you, and that's why I needed some help, that is, if you want to help me? There's a whole lot of work to do in and around the cottage, and though I know that you haven't finished your training, I do know that you know enough to help me out, so what do you think?" he paused, looking down at the stupefied little elf, whose enormous eyes where shimmering slightly.

"M'ster is asking Toppy?" he asked in a trembling tone.

"I am," Harry told him with a nod, looking at the young elf sincerely, "I don't want a servant, Toppy, or a distant worker. I want a friend that will help me look after myself and my house. Do you think you could be that friend?"

Long ears wiggling behind his head, where they went past his little shoulders, Toppy was practically shaking on his feet. It took only seconds for Harry to find his waist being wrapped by a trembling and crying house elf, babbling gratitude and gushing about how hard he would work and so on.

And Harry, patting the elf on the head could only smile a bit, remembering Dobby and even Kreacher somewhat, "Well, if that's a yes then, we'd better get some shopping done. We have a home to get ready and all."

"Oh yes, M'ster…erm, what be yous name M'ster?" the tiny elf asked shyly.

"I didn't introduce myself did I?" he asked absently, distracted as he was by entering a part of Hogsmeade that he knew, "The name's Harry. Harry Potter."

It took him a while to notice, really, so intent was he in looking over the window displays of a supply store, but then, he hadn't expected Toppy to faint, now had he? Something was certain, though. It was going to be an interesting rest of the summer.

"Toppy? Toppy! Are you alright?"

-
- o -
-

"Toppy?"

"Yes, M'ster Harry?" the tiny elf asked after he popped in. Harry wasn't even sure if the elf popped in with the question on his lips, or if the phrase just came in automatic. Briefly, he wondered how the little elf would reply if he called for him while out at sea, while flying or while something unusual was happening. Would Toppy still ask what he wanted in those scenarios?

Still, he could always test his theories out later. Looking down toward the little guy, he ruffled his hair in though, "Could you set Gulliver's stand up in the living room, please? I don't want him to stay in his cage for much longer. I'll finish unpacking things here in the kitchen, while you do that."

"Yes'sir, M'ster Harry, Toppy be doing that now!"

"Thanks Toppy," he said as he began to rummage through his new purchases, only to be interrupted by a throat being cleared. "Huh? Oh, Gornuk, you're still around?" Why would the goblin be hanging around still? "Right! I have a few things for you before you go," he said and disappeared into his new room in search for a specific roll of parchments that he had compiled before heading back, "Here you go, these are the muggle investments which I'm interested in; the top ones holding the most priority."

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. I will forward this along to Mr. Beckett. Is there anything else where I can be of assistance?"

Shaking his head, Harry simply shook the goblin's offered hand, "Not that I can think of, no, apart from what we've already talked about, that is. But still, thank you for all of your help today, Gornuk, I really appreciate it."

"It was an enlightening venture Mr. potter. Think nothing of it," the goblin dismissed.

"Well, I still thank you for it. If you ever need any help, you know where to find me," Harry told him, especially since he had started to trust this goblin. They were all a nasty piece of work as a race, but Harry knew that as long as he kept his end of the bargain and no goblin laws or customs were broken, Gornuk wouldn't let him down.

But then, maybe he should brush up on goblin law and custom before their next meeting?

Still, as the goblin disappeared, Harry couldn't help but notice how late in the day it was. After unpacking his new purchases, setting up his new bed and eating the food that he'd bought at the Three Broomsticks, Harry was going to hit the sack. If anything, he had three weeks to set everything up and one of those weeks he would be able to do all the magic that he wanted.

After that, he would have to see, but for now… Well, for now he could just keep walking forward and seeing how things turned out.

A pop distracted him from his musings and he looked down at a bouncing Toppy. The elf was simply brimming with excitement at the amount of work ahead of them, not to mention happy at having bonded to 'such a good and powerful wizard like M'ster Harry Potter.'

"Toppy be done settling Gulliver and Hedwig in the new perch, M'ster Harry."

"Brilliant, thanks Toppy, how about you get started cleaning my room then? The supplies are in that bag over there. I'll still be here in the kitchen if you need anything, alright?"

"Yes'sir!"

The rest of the night, and indeed, the rest of the week passed without incident. Harry would send Toppy over to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley to buy food for them while they fixed up the kitchen, which had been their top priority after his room, the bathroom and the roof were patched up and working.

True, only the basic repairs had been carried out as well as a good scrub down, but everything was working well even if it didn't exactly look pretty. For now, it would more than do, Harry was sure. Thankfully, he had been able to use magic that first week, so cleaning hadn't really been a chore, not to mention that he managed to learn more than a couple of household charms in the process.

Toppy was kept as busy as Harry himself was, and both of them passed the time cleaning, painting and repairing the house, even if Harry took more breaks where he practiced with his flute or just lazed around catching his breath. At the same time, he sometimes gave the little elf some cooking lessons, which were more than slightly amusing. It wasn't magical cooking, of course, since he didn't know how to do it himself, but he made sure that the elf would be able to keep himself fed while he was away in school.

As things stood, as soon as his investments started paying up, he would send the elf to get some training in both cooking and gardening, among other things. After all, there was enough land around that they could probably grow most of the things they were going to eat, which would cut down on their expenses later on.

After that week was over, however, both Harry and Toppy had to be very careful with their magic; the house elf especially. After all, while Harry was still registered as living in Privet Drive, the last thing that he needed was for the Ministry to realize that that was not the case anymore; especially with how under-protected his property was, that is, if the Ministry could even tell the difference between one underage wizard and the next. At the moment, though, he didn't have any way to check, so he decided to play it safe.

Sure, Gornuk would take care of setting up some basic magical protection later on, but that was when he had enough money for it, and at the moment his visit to the Healer in Hogsmeade and the potion regiment that he was following cut quite a bit into his remaining funds.

Funds that were rapidly dwindling, at that. He wasn't sure if he'd have a lot left after the summer was over, to tell the truth.

As far as he could figure, actually, by September the first he would only have enough galleons left to keep Toppy happy and healthy, and allow Harry some extra change to purchase a few things from the lunch lady in the express. He was hoping, or rather, he was desperately hopeful of some of his investments producing some money by Christmas time.

He would be in dire straits if they didn't, at least.

Still, he would have to prepare for the possibility of having no money by that time and find some other way to make some. Otherwise, he would have to ask for help, and that would mean that he would need to actually tell someone of where he lived, or even some of his plans.

And that was something that he certainly didn't want to happen.

For all intents and purposes, and at the stage in the timeline in which he found himself, that, above everything else, was his worst-case scenario. Indeed, if he could avoid telling anyone about his plans, he would be more than happy.

Still, for the rest of the summer holidays he and Toppy were extra careful of doing everything the muggle way, something that the elf seemed to enjoy, since this way the workload could be stretched over a longer period of time.

They were able to scrape the walls and put some new paint on it. They fixed the roof and cleaned the fireplace. The polished the wooden floor and replaced the boards that were rotting or old and did quite a number in the attic, which was more of a storage space than anything at that moment.

The cellar they left alone, in part because it was cut off from the house and they could leave it for later, but mostly because Harry wanted to turn it into a lab, but didn't have the money for it right then; although the same could be said for the greenhouse as well.

There was no hot water to be had, and the plumbing had needed more than a few charms to get it going during the first week, but Harry didn't really mind all that much. He was used to cold showers at that time.

All in all, even if it didn't look fancy or anything, their little cottage started looking more cozy and warm. It reminded Harry of the Burrow actually, though it lacked the constant use of magic that made the Burrow come to life as it did. Not to mention that it was more than slightly bare of furniture and all those little knickknacks that made the Weasley home into an enchantingly cluttered place. Maybe, though, maybe his new home would gain that touch of magic later on.

If nothing else, he could hope for it, at the very least.

Apart from that, it wasn't until a few days before Hogwarts, after the cottage was as fixed up as they could make it, that Harry put the last of his summer plans into action. Everything else had worked well so far, or had been put in motion already, since he knew that he would have to wait until he was in Hogwarts to do anything drastic. Still, that didn't stop him from getting the ball rolling, as it were, and with Gulliver there, his new Great Grey owl, he had the stick he needed to prod some things into motion.

He didn't have a desk yet, so he used the kitchen counter to write up the following letter in a flowing script, idly wondering how much a new counter would cost him:

Dear Madam:

My name, as it is, is of no consequence in the face
of the information I am about to impart. However,
while I cannot yet reveal my identity, you will find
that this is because the news I bear is too fragile for
me to take such a risk as to reveal myself without
more precautions being in place beforehand.

Yet, I find that my duty as a wizard and a citizen of
our world can demand no less than some action to be
taken, and as such I bring to you this information,
regardless of the risks sending this letter might put me in.

Madam, I plead that you don't discard this letter
or its contents as a fanciful tale. This information
has been confirmed, though I can give no further
proof other than my word on its veracity. However,
while I might be willing to take some risks, I am not
incautious; Depending on how you act upon what I
have to say, and how you deal with it, will mark whether
or not you will hear from me again.

As things stand, you alone carry the decision of whether
our correspondence will continue or not. After all, there
are those outside of the law who could just as likely aid
me for the greater good of our world.

So please, listen to what I tell you now:

Barty Crouch Jr. is not dead. He has been freed from
Azkaban by his mother's request and lives in his father's
home, under the guardianship of a House Elf and the
effects of Mr. Crouch's Imperious Curse, usually well hidden
under an Invisibility Cloak.

And yes, I speak of the Head of International Magical
Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, and his son, the
convicted Death Eater. As far as I have been able to
uncover, Mrs. Crouch was dying at the time of her son's
breakout, and upon her last visit with him at the prison
she switched with him using Polyjuice Potion. Barty Jr.
left with his father and Mrs. Crouch died in Azkaban,
still under the effects of the potion.

It is a little known secret that those who die under the
effects of Polyjuice retain their acquired form even in death.

You might think this letter to be a compilation of tall-tales
Madam, but you need only look into Mr. Crouch's home to
find the evidence needed to prove or disprove it.

I will be watching the news.

- Shade.

P.S. There is more I have uncovered… much more.

Reading it over after at least two drafts, Harry nodded firmly. Hopefully it was worded strongly enough and dramatically enough so that it wouldn't be dismissed out of hand. If nothing else, he could always find other ways to make changes, but if he used the official channels, thus influencing the public more closely, then more changes than just those he directly made would ripple out from his actions, depending on how people reacted to them, be those changes for good or ill.

Yet, as he addressed the envelope to Madam Bones, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic, he couldn't help but hope that the change would be for good. Indeed, as he attached the now finished letter to Gulliver and watched the enormous owl wing his way to his destination, he couldn't do much else than hope.

Hope that the echoes, the ripples and the impact of his passing, of his changing this dimension, would not become too harsh in the coming future. But then, things are never certain, and change was his only goal at the moment. He couldn't really be picky, after all.

His very existence depended on change, and not on whether that change was for good or ill.

To be continued…