Well then, my good and loyal readers, I have decided to update this story and as such, have attempted to force the Flood Gates of Inspiration open through the viewing of a Harry Potter film… and it has worked…

Yes, you've read correctly. I was able to update relatively quickly for once.

As such, this chapter will lay to rest some questions raise others and possibly make you wonder if perhaps Harry isn't quite as… benevolent… as he may seem. Sure he seemed pretty sane in the first chapter but… who knows what his millennial brain chemistry is like?

Read on to find out what I mean.

Edit: And onwards! To work on the second chapters revision!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is NOT my property.

The Account and a Fyre in Gringotts:

Harry awoke to a pounding head and the conflicting smells of mildew, dust and sea water. He kept his eyes closed against any light that may seek to stab at his eyes and gave himself a mental slap to his mental face to try to remember what he had done or drunk last night to feel this horrid- and remember why he'd decided to leave his cave when he had delicate experiments running that had need of sometimes hourly checks for irregularities, inconsistencies or possible unfavorable reactions. And broke out in a grin.

The contained gravitational singularity! It had worked! Sure it was mind bogglingly difficult and had taken up a good eighty, eighty-five percent of his attention and over half of his magical power, but it had work- Bang!

'The hell?' He asked himself. 'Who would be looking for me? I wouldn't have been stupid enough to make anyone curious, even if drink could still affect me.' And he opened his eyes.

His first thought was to the fact that there was a wooden, leaky roof over his head, and the threadbare blanket thrown over him. BANG! There it was again, that incessant pounding on a door no one should have known he was behind. He was NOT the type of person who socialized or fit in- not anymore.

"Where's the canon?" Came the somewhat slurred cry from a voice Harry had not heard since the Dursleys had left Privet Drive after his sixth year…

"Dudley?" Harry asked as he whipped 'round in shock. His cousin had died of lung cancer millennia ago, he couldn't be here... Unless the singularity had ripped open the fabric of space time, which was only possible in sci-fy... but then, there was both the magical energy the ultra-violet radiation and the high amount of highly packed electrons which in theory could have had some affect on the- BANG!

The door flew from its hinges and left Hagrid to cut an admittedly intimidating figure what with the lightning and the wind and the wild hair… that is intimidating to a mortal. Vernon Dursley then came waddling out of his room as fast as his fat would allow, rifle in hand. Thus began the quite amusing event of Vernon arguing with a half-giant.

This caused a thought to occur to a now not-at-all confused Harry. All his old friends were now alive because the destabilization in the singularity, combined with the latent regret which had probably been present in his magic even after leaving his core and the presence of radiation from a sun 12,567 years in the past at the time of the event as well as the amount of highly concentrated electricity present had caused a tear in fabric of space and time, hurtling his mind and power back to the day he first learned about his heritage… but why not his body as well? Not that it particularly mattered as he could shapeshift but…

And this led him to an entirely different thought. Hermione was alive as well… but wait, shouldn't he be more concerned with Ginny, his wife, being alive?

Just then a hint of magical residue caught Harry's notice, on his relatives… wait… magical residue on his family? Why would they… 'That meddling old fool! He'd set up the whole damn thing! Probably his whole life was one big set up!' He thought in supreme rage. 'Does this mean that even my relationships were orchestrated by that asshat? Come to think of it, I didn't take much notice of Ginny until after meeting with the goat back in sixth year to grab old Horace… I'm going to enjoy this year far too much. That meddling old goat won't know what hit him.'

But then again, the lemon-sucking buffoon couldn't have planned for him having immortality and traveling back in time. That in mind Harry knocked all those present- himself excluded- out with a burst of magic and put them in stasis. After a few minutes of study Harry saw that his family was under the influence of a powerful compulsion charm designed to make them fear magic to the point of hatred and, by proxy, him too. So he lifted it. Good thing the Ministry can't trace wandless wordless magic at this point in time.

He then studied Hagrid. Well, the man wasn't under any spells himself, having a high resistance to magic that would directly influence him, but he did have a spell on his wand-brella- one that made him feel incredible loyalty to the caster so long as you were holding it. A sure sign of old Dumbles interfering with even more peoples' lives. Harry lifted that spell too. And then Harry decided to check if his pocket dimension had traveled back with him, as that had plenty of useful things he could use in these sorts of situations.

To Harry's joy, it had. All of his precious plants, and animal parts, and treasures picked up on wacky adventures to places no one went to because everyone who went there died, and weapons, and books, and all of it was still there. Or he was powerful enough to reach into the future where it existed and squeeze it through what was left of the tear that he'd come through, which was a distinct and very ego-stroking possibility. Either way, his stuff was his, and he had access to it. And he needed a bank account so he would have reason to talk to the goblins about the Lestrange vault.

So Harry went through Hagrids pockets and found the key to his trust fund vault, implanted memories into Hagrids head so he'd think he had gone shopping with Harry as Harry knew he was ordered too- and put a timer of his stasis spell so it's dissipate in the morning after he'd gotten back to the Dursleys. He then proceeded to open a portal to Gringotts and stepped through into the bank. The patrons of the bank, ordinary wizarding folk with no real extraordinary ability looked at him in awe and fear.

Harry blinked, turned and looked at his portal. A swirling, gaping, black hole fifty feet high and thirty across… odd, it looked like a floating picture of the bank from his side. He closed the portal, turned back around, walked up to the counter and asked. "May I please have a meeting with your manager? I wish to set up an account."

The goblin looked at him and said. "You do realize that you must be of age to open your own account do you not?" Harry merely smirked and produced an age telling rune stone.

"If you want to verify the authenticity of this rune stone you may bring out your own to test me with?" Harry said as he bit his thumb and smeared it his blood over the stone, which glowed brightly before it started to carve Harry's age into itself. More than four digits. The goblin quickly motioned for them to bring out their rune stone so they could confirm his age, his eyes widening comically as Harry was validated.

The goblin, which identified himself as Ragnar led Harry to a room in the back of the above ground section of the bank and told him that the director of the Great Britain branch of Gringotts Wizarding bank and the CEO of the company would be right with him. As Harry waited he thought back to the various abandoned goblin forts that he'd raided and the knowledge that he had with which he could bribe them. After all, getting into the Lestrange vault had to come at a price.

When next the door to the room opened Harry saw Ragnar and two somewhat taller and better dressed goblins come in. Harry stood and waited for them to be introduced before he remembered his manners. "Ah, excuse my rudeness; I've a terrible lot on the mind right now. Harridun Jameson Potter, at your service." He introduced himself in Gobbledygook.

The two better dressed goblins looked at each other before giving their own introductions. "Calginr Shmark, CEO of Gringotts International, a pleasure Mr. Potter."

"Grimblade Altshuk, much the same. Good to meet a human with some respect for goblin culture. Please though, surely you're not this... Boy-Who-Lived was it? That the wizards so adore? He's barely of school age." The now identified Grimblade said with a smirk.

Calginr raised a hand at this and said. "Please, Grimblade, you may scare away our valued customer, you know they tend to find our teeth disquieting. And though I agree that your introduction is confusing, Gringotts is and has always been a place of business where such details don't particularly matter. So, Mr. Potter, what business have you with us aside from your account? One so, venerable and obviously powerful as you must surely have more important things to do than personally oversee something so trivial as the opening of a bank account?"

"Indeed, you are quite right in that Calginr." Harry replied. "I also have a… proposition. As of right now I believe there to be a Horcrux in the Lestrange vault, in the form of the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff. I wish to acquire this cup for the ultimate purpose of the soul fragments utter and complete destruction." This being said in the tone of one who was being nicer than they were accustomed to.

Calginr frowned at him and interlaced his fingers. "A bold claim Mr. Potter, if I were bring you said item can you offer proof of this? You must realize that this is a delicate matter, as- even in prison- the Lestranges could press charges for slander if such proof was not forthcoming. Also, regardless of whether or not you are being truthful in this, we will require a certain amount of… compensation for this particular service." The goblin said in a more serious tone.

Harry smiled. "Of course you would, friend, and as for compensation…" Harry gave a wide grin and reached into his pocket dimension before pulling out a large, misshapen bag. "This should probably work quite well." He opened the bag and pulled out ten items, each new one widening the eyes of his new acquaintances further. "Will the personal armor and weapons of Thrack the Malignant suffice for you? As I understand these have been lost in the Scandinavian mines that once housed his fiefdom for over thirteen hundred years, no?"

The goblins swallowed once deeply and stuck out their hands for a handshake. "Indeed, that would be more than fair as compensation." Calginr said with a large smile and some sweat running down his face. Harry supposed this to be because anyone who had gone into the fief for the last thirteen hundred years either never came out or had come back with tales of monsters and demons. And the stories were true… but those things couldn't stop someone who couldn't die. And so, the cup was brought before Harry in record time and he set about setting up the proper and Gringotts recognized methods for detecting a Horcrux... which were off the records and no human in this time- Harry aside- knew of. and then he used magic even they knew not and transferred the soul piece to a sock he'd conjured. which he then destroyed. With Fiendfyre.

One piece of Snake-fuckers soul down, six to go.

End~

And there we are, Harry has one Horcrux down and his own account with which he can store things and free up space in his pocket dimension… which can store as much as he wants… whatever it was just an excuse to gt the cup.

Kay! Two update's in one month, let's make this pretty regular huh?

Kuta, out!

Edit: Better than the original? Worse? Meh, I like it so there!