A/N: I can't start this chapter with anything but a large apology. I had a rough time since my last update, where I promised more frequent updates, and for that I apologise greatly too. I have had a very busy and scary year, one I don't care to get into, but I have appointed a beta and we shall be getting this fic back on track. I am also rewriting, or rather revamping; the first three chapters with the help of said amazing beta, Shadowz101. Thanks English Kid.
That said, I present to you the fourth chapter of porcelain doll. A longer chapter to make up for my very long absence.
To sate you, I am writing a chapter ahead from now on. I don't promise quick updates, but I do promise updates. Please be patient with me.
Chapter 4: Set Me Free
Harry collapsed on his bed; Daphne Greengrass was downstairs, having lunch with his relatives. That sentence was strange, he still had to get over the fact that she was in his house, and that she was asking for help. And that he was in the process of accepting her as his friend.
He sighed audibly, as if hoping someone would come to rescue him of his morbid state of mind. He knew he had to talk about it, and he wanted to, the only problem was that he didn't know exactly who to trust. He was fairly certain that Ron and Hermione would listen, but they wouldn't understand, and he was so pissed at Dumbledore it wasn't even funny. Ironically enough, the only person he could've opened up to was now dead, and without even a bloody body to bury. They hadn't even had a proper memorial, or they had and Harry hadn't been invited, which pissed the young man off even more.
He confided in the person he didn't think he would ever learn to converse with: Dudley.
He heaved himself off the bed and shuffled over to Hedwig. She lifted her head to peek at him, before snuggling her head back into her shoulder again. He pressed an owl treat through into her cage, mostly because he had nothing else to do.
The door to his bedroom was thrown open (quite dramatically) and in trudged one very angry looking Daphne Greengrass.
"What did she do?" Harry asked, knowing that he didn't need to elaborate on who 'she' was.
"Your aunt implied that my family is riddled with incest. She probably thinks my parents were siblings. How can you stand her, Harry?" She plopped down on his bed, and he smirked at her.
"I was raised in this house; I'm used to it. I can't even use magic here, nor can you, for that reason, seeing as I will get in trouble for it. This time I will be expelled for sure." Harry said, causing his guest to frown.
"No magic? Potter, I've been living with magic for years, I can't go the whole summer without it!" She moaned, pouting her light pink lips. Harry snorted derisively, settling down next to her.
"Imagine you in my shoes: I can't even do my homework without my uncle attempting to throttle me." He said grimly.
She was staring at him, and he was acutely aware of it. He moved slowly, and her eyes followed him. This was crazy!
"Pot… Harry, why did you try to kill yourself?" She asked, deciding to throw the idea of tact, quite literally, out the window. Harry exhaled loudly, he wasn't about to discuss his reasons with her. She wouldn't understand...how could she?
"Not now, Daphne. Can you just leave me alone?" He groaned, falling back on his bed. She rolled her eyes at him but nodded anyways.
"I'm not letting this go, Harry." She said quietly. He forced himself to rest on his elbows.
"I'll tell you...just not now...please. Look, can we take turns sleeping on the mattress? It kills my back, and I don't feel very chivalrous right now." He said, his one hand pointing to the mattress on the floor.
"Of course, I'm your guest, and I should abide by your rules." She said in a voice that sounded half-robotic. Harry wondered how many times that rules had been drilled into her head. He looked into her icy blue eyes and formed a rare smile.
"I'm not going to rule over you, all right? You can come and go as you please, just do not use magic around me or I will lose my home." He said gently.
Daphne returned his slight smile.
"So, no homework? That explains your poor marks." She said.
"Hey, I do all right!" He quickly defended himself, "I reckon my Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration grades are okay; Snape hates me so I doubt a good Potions mark." Harry muttered the last under his breath bitterly.
"You and I both know you're smarter than you claim to be. I reckon you can give Granger a run for her money in Defence and in Potions, if only you applied yourself a bit more. I also think that, since you could create a full patronus in third year, you must be very powerful. You just need extra practice." She reasoned, and Harry could hear her brain working at a mile a minute.
"I would absolutely love the ability to do magic outside school, but the Ministry can track me." He pointed out.
"Oh, the Trace..." she said, as if forgetting about it completely. In truth she probably had. She was pureblood and likely didn't have to live by the same rules he did.
"There is a way to remove it, though I'm not sure if it is legal to remove it, or where come to think of it..." She went on; focusing on the wall, but Harry knew she wasn't seeing it at all.
The Trace? He hadn't known the term for it, but just knowing what it was made him hate it even more. hH wanted this Trace off him and he wanted it off now. Realistically he knew it was nothing short of impossible, because he had no doubt that Diagon Alley would be crawling with Death Eaters and supporters of the Dark Arts, and he was Harry Potter, after all, the most dangerous person to be at any given moment, and he wouldn't be safe.
"Where can we get rid of it?" Harry asked, looking at Daphne. Her eyes widened in surprise a bit.
"I don't know. The goblins at Gringotts will know though." She said, her index finger tapping her lips as she thought it over.
"Daphne, you do realise that going to Diagon Alley is suicide?" He pointed out. She settled her gaze on him.
"I thought you didn't mind that." She said harshly, and Harry winced guiltily. Even Daphne herself flinched slightly at the words coming out of her mouth. Possibly not the best choice of words she could have made. He didn't reply though, and calmly waited for her to go on.
"But if you want it removed, we have to go. Look, I'm rather gifted with Charms, and I can alter your appearance a bit. We need to hide your scar, for one, because that gives you away, and your eyes…" She turned towards him, before deflating, "But you're right. It is too risky."
"Yes, and while I always like to run into danger randomly with just a teaspoon as my weapon, I don't think running into Diagon Alley wand held high is the right approach." He smirked, and she slapped his arm playfully.
"So what do we do?" She asked, "You know, I could always pop over to Tracey's house and get my books, and then I could finish my summer homework. You might benefit from the same."
"My aunt and uncle keep my books locked away, remember? And I don't even want to know where they leave the key, and magic isn't an answer." Harry said. Daphne grinned at him.
"I could persuade your aunt otherwise. She's terrified of my little stick of magic." Daphne twirled her wand between her fingers delicately, mischief written all over her pretty face.
"Can we get your books first, though?" He laughed, "Also, Tracey Davis? Won't her family let your father know that you're there?" he asked.
"No, the Davis family is strictly neutral, but, as I said, you could easily convince them otherwise by just asking." She was being serious, and Harry liked that idea. "You have much more influence than you know. Not all Slytherins are evil and power-hungry; our house thrives on ambition and cunning, not malice and cruelty. Even then, those two character traits don't make you supporters of the Dark Lord, just more likely to agree with his ideas" She said exasperated, "We just don't define ourselves as 'good' because the ones that are evil and idiots will try to kill us."
"So Slytherin has its own civil war?" He asked, a brow lifted.
"Sadly." She said, casting her eyes down. "Harry, would you do me a favour and come with me to Tracey's? I want to show you exactly what an influence you have on the outside world." She asked, her eyes glowing bright as idea upon idea formed in her head.
Harry hesitated, it could be a trap. The Greengrass family were known supporters of Voldemort and the bit about the Davis' being neutral could be fabrication too.
He looked at her, reading her expression, or at least trying to. He recalled her begging to let her stay the previous day and decided that she was being honest. He would still take his wand as a precaution, though.
Constant vigilance as Moody would say.
She also spent so much time saving his life, why would she want to ruin her efforts by trapping him? He felt like an idiot for thinking it was a trap in the first place.
He nodded his agreement, and she jumped up in excitement, "Can we go now? Please?"
"Daphne, how are we going to there?" He said in a voice that implied she hadn't thought it through.
"I'm seventeen, you idiot, I have my apparation license." She said haughtily, causing him to laugh. She stuck her nose in the air and that was rather amusing.
"You really are spoilt, aren't you?" He teased her.
"Yes I am." She admitted, but she smiled. Harry decided that he liked her smile, it was pretty, and it was infectious as well.
"We just need to get out of range first, and I should put on my wizards' robes because this looks bad." He motioned to the oversized jeans that were fraying at his feet and the shirt that could've easily been a dress. He saw the girl eye him, before she shook his head.
"No, I'll fix those for you, but you really do need a wardrobe upgrade, Harry." She said, slipping on her boots. He waited for her to exit before he himself followed, making sure to close the door behind him.
"Mrs Dursley?" Daphne called once they were downstairs.
"In the kitchen!" Petunia answered in a higher voice, and Harry recognised the voice as the one she used when Dudley's friends were over. He frowned; he didn't know if it was good or bad. He didn't know what happened after he left at lunch and he wondered if Daphne had made a good impression or not. He figured not, because Daphne had shoved her wand in Petunia's face, a woman who always hated magic. He wondered how she had handled her sister having magic.
The pair went into the kitchen, where his aunt was busy fixing dinner. She glanced at them.
"Heading out?" She asked, and her tone was much kinder than he was used to. Something was definitely going on.
"Yes," He answered, "That okay?" He added carefully.
She nodded and turned back to the stove. Harry lifted an eyebrow in surprise, thinking that his eyebrows were getting a lot of exercise the last two days.
"Thank you, ma'am," Daphne said good-naturedly before the pair headed to the door.
"Why did we ask my aunt for permission?" He whispered to her.
"To keep the peace, Harry, I'm a guest in her house." She answered, also in a whisper.
. . .
The pair appeared near Davis manor with a loud pop, and Harry let go of her quickly.
"That is he most horrible thing I've ever felt." Harry said, attempting to keep down his breakfast. He breathed deeply before regaining his composure.
Daphne looked impressed, "Most people vomit after their first time, congratulations." She patted him on the back slightly, and some of his nausea disappeared, thankfully.
"Welcome to Davis Manor, Mr Potter," Daphne said pompously, and quite sarcastically, stretching her arms out in dramatic flair. Harry looked at the building behind them, and he wasn't impressed.
Harry never really worried about appearances, though he was ashamed of his current attire, it was awful. The house wasn't large, it wasn't even a Manor, it was just a house. He finally understood Daphne's sarcastic tone when she introduced the place. It wasn't all that grand, Harry thought, it certainly didn't live up to the splendour that Grimmauld Place once must have held, but it was much better than his aunt and uncle's tiny house.
He, for some reason, had this idea that all purebloods were rich and spoilt, but this… this wasn't exactly what he expected.
"I expected more." Harry said, causing Daphne to roll her eyes. He grinned cheekily, following her as she approached the gate. It opened for her, and Harry slammed his hands over his ears as a high-pitched squeal travelled through the air.
"Daphne!" Tracey Davis yelled, surging forward and clasping Daphne in her arms, "You had me worried sick you know that? When Tori told me you had run away, and you didn't send news, I thought you left me!"
Daphne laughed lightly, "I was merely settling in, Tracey."
Davis chose that moment to look at her friend's companion, and her eyes widened as she spotted him. Harry looked at his frayed shoes self-consciously, before Daphne flicked her wand and the frays burned off, his shirt and the pants shrunk and the clothes fit Harry a lot better. Davis didn't seem to notice (or she pretended not to) and held out her hand for Harry.
"Good afternoon, Potter," Tracey said in a voice that wasn't the Slytherin scorn he was used to; her voice was rather kind. Her light brown hair was tied into a neat ponytail and she was dressed in muggle clothes (much to his surprise). Harry took her hand in his and shook lightly.
"Afternoon, Davis, how are you?" He asked out of courtesy. Davis smiled at him, and he decided he liked her. He had never even really spoken to her, but she didn't keep looking at his scar, her large brown eyes were politely trained on his, her hand didn't draw back immediately, because she wasn't scared he would bite her. That was all he'd gotten the previous year.
"I'm splendid, Potter; I assume you rescued Daphne from herself?" Davis winked at her friend, who stomped on her foot and mumbled that she didn't need any rescuing.
Tracey Davis was in Harry's year, a year below Daphne, yet Harry rarely saw the two girls apart. He'd never truly conversed with either girls and just assumed they were evil, like the rest of Slytherin house. He frowned at his thoughts – why exactly did he have the belief that all Slytherins were inherently evil?
Must've been what Ron said in first year. Harry shrugged – he didn't have to agree with what Ron said, they were entitled to their own opinions, after all, and Harry vowed to form his own bloody opinion instead of thinking whatever anyone else said was right.
He'd made enough mistakes because of it: Assuming Snape was after the stone, that Hagrid opened the chamber, that Sirius was a lunatic, that the headmaster of Durmstrang entering him in the tournament and finally Sirius' death.
He also needed to have a serious talk with Dumbledore about all the secrets – it was officially bullshit and Harry would threaten to quit as hero if Dumbledore didn't lay open cards with him. Now that he knew the prophecy, he also knew that if he refused to play ball that Dumbledore would be out of options.
He returned her smile and she invited them inside the house. Her parents were both there, but Mr Davis was lying on the couch in their living space, a huge book propped onto his knees, and Mrs Davis was busy rattling away in the kitchen.
Mr Davis looked up, spotted Daphne, and smiled brightly before hauling himself up and hugging the teenaged girl. Harry didn't exactly know what to do, so he followed his uncle's advice and tried not to exist. But Mr Davis spotted him immediately and spluttered.
"Harry Potter?" The older man asked sticking out a hand. It was shaking slightly as Harry took it.
"Pleased to meet you, sir, how are you?" Harry asked politely. Mr Davis seemed to relax at the fact that Harry wasn't about to attack, and Harry supressed the urge to roll his eyes – he wasn't a monster, for goodness sake, and he wasn't about to bite someone for shaking his hand. He wasn't planning on biting anyone, that was ridiculous and Harry was sure that cannibalism was frowned upon, even in wizarding society.
"Daphne, honey, is that you?" A soft voice called from the kitchen. Harry saw Daphne's face split wide open in a grin as she hurried to the kitchen, pulling Harry with her. Tracey followed, amused.
"Mrs Davis!" Daphne shrieked, and Harry considered getting earplugs when around Daphne, because her shrieking voice was unnaturally high; even Hermione didn't shriek that high.
A woman that was an older image of Tracey Davis came into view, and by the way this pureblood mother was in a flour-smudged apron in front of a mixing bowl made the boy who lived grin. He liked this family.
Daphne hugged her, before she turned to Harry and offered him a hand. Harry took it, but he couldn't help but smile.
"Mrs Davis, I haven't seen him smile that wide yet; you must be making some impression." Daphne teased, causing Harry to become a dashing shade of red.
"It's quite all right, dear, I understand. I'm a pureblood making dinner, not counting on house elves, it is a bit strange." She gave him a playful wink.
"Hermione would love this," He said before he could stop himself, "She's actually fighting for house elf rights, and she would love to rope you in for that too."
"Put me into contact with this Hermione, I would happily be roped in." Mrs Davis said, and Harry knew he was right in liking them.
"Mrs Davis, could Harry and I possibly steal you and your husband's attention for a few minutes? It won't take long, I promise." Daphne said, and Harry saw Tracey's eyebrows shoot into her hair at the familiarity between them.
Mrs Davis' eyes flitted to Harry and she nodded with her smile still in place. Harry liked that her smile reached her eyes, it was infectious.
"Would the two of you care to stay for dinner?" She asked, looking at them both.
"That would be lovely, thank you, ma'am," Daphne said warmly, "We can discuss this plan over dinner."
"Yes, that's a good idea," Harry piped up, "But I should warn you, I am going to attempt to persuade you and your husband to do things that is mostly frowned upon in pureblood society."
"Like most things we do?" Mr Davis said, popping into the kitchen. His brown hair was dishevelled and his shirt was untucked.
Daphne tapped his arm absentmindedly, "Harry, how exactly do you know what is acceptable and not acceptable in pureblood societies? You were raised by muggles."
Harry started to reply, but paused and thought about it, "Just guessing? I can assume purebloods don't frolic around with Harry Potter." He shrugged, and Daphne smiled.
"Oh, you and I are frolicking nowadays?" She teased him.
"Please, gosh, Daphne, leave the flirting for later." Tracey rolled her eyes, but she hid a smile too.
"Of course, shall we?" Daphne asked. Mrs Davis nodded, swinging her wand before all the ready-cooked food, causing it to rise and dance into what Harry assumed was the dining hall. Or rather, the dining room that was in the same room as the living room.
Once dinner was in full swing, Harry dove right in.
"Mr and Mrs Davis, Tracey – I want you to consider," Harry started, ignoring the warning look that Daphne gave him, "I know you are a strictly neutral family, but we need all the help we can get." Harry confessed.
"This can wait until after the starter, Harry." Daphne said pointedly, but Mr Davis held up a hand. Harry wanted to ask Daphne what the hell was up, because it had been her idea to discuss it over dinner. Maybe dinner didn't include starters in her world? Maybe she thought it would spoil the mood? Or was she really that hungry that she wanted to at least finish her starter?
"Wait, Daphne, I don't mind," Mr Davis said, giving her a kind smile. She smiled and bowed her head. He showed for Harry to continue.
"We need help, because Voldemort's followers will continue to become more, because unlike Dumbledore, I'm not blind nor do I believe that Voldemort will ever change." Harry went on, "Voldemort's followers extend further than Hogwarts, and we need eyes and ears everywhere."
"Why do you think my wife and I would find this interesting?" Mr Davis asked with a lifted eyebrow.
"Because you like being against the norm of pureblood society." Harry countered.
"I never said that."
"No, you didn't, but it's obvious from this house." Harry shot back easily, and Daphne smiled satisfactorily.
"Do go on." Mr Davis looked at Harry over his glasses, making Harry think of Dumbledore, at least Mr Davis' eyes didn't twinkle with mischief, his eyes just seemed amused.
"You have non-moving pictures," Harry started, "Mrs Davis cooks, you have a muggle television, your daughter wears muggle clothes, and by the way it looks from the contraption on the kitchen table, you, sir, like fiddling with muggle things."
"Frolicking, fiddling? Harry, when did you swallow a dictionary?" Daphne asked, "Or did you swallow a book of poetry?"
Harry ignored her, and she noticed, kicking him under the table.
"You're quite right, Mr Potter, we do indulge ourselves." Mrs Davis answered. Harry saw Daphne send the woman a jealous glance before she relaxed.
"Do you know the Weasley family?" Harry asked next. The Davis couple nodded in unison. Tracey was busy eating some pasta, her attention fixated on the conversation.
"Of course, everyone does." Mr Davis replied.
"Mr Weasley has a shed filled with muggle inventions and he even tampered with a muggle car. I reckon the two of you would get along splendidly," Harry said, "And you, Mrs Davis, you'd get along with Mrs Weasley; you're both excellent cooks." He grinned at her, and her expression softened.
"And I'm okay with Granger, so I get something too!" Tracey said excitedly. Harry was surprised, but decided not to show it. Tracey hadn't really spoken until that moment.
"So?" Daphne asked, "What do you say?"
"I assume we'll have to become bloodtraitors ourselves?" Mr Davis said matter-of-factly, "And liars, and spies…" he continued, trailing of mischievously.
Harry didn't break eye contact; he had the sneaking suspicion that Mr Davis was looking for a bit of adventure, and this would be it.
"You have me convinced, Mr Potter." Mr Davis said, a smile splitting across his face, "Now, finish your dinner and we'll discuss our dirty little plans in the living room."
"See, Harry, I told you," Daphne said as the pair of them walked back to Privet Drive number four in the dark, her hand tucked into his arm, "All you need to do is ask."
"I understand, because that conversation wasn't as hard as I thought it would be." He said, his head whirring with ideas. A backpack was slung over his one shoulder lazily, his other hand shoved into his pocket.
He could get more people; he could raise their numbers exponentially and have a fine network of spies within the inner circle of Voldemort. He was sure Zabini would join because Daphne was already on his side, and with it goes Zabini's family. He didn't know any of the other pureblood families; he needed to get a lesson from Daphne on these families. He also needed a lesson on pureblood etiquette, it seemed.
"So, have you given any thought to the idea of Diagon Alley?" She asked with a nervous edge in her voice.
"I don't think so, Daphne, it's not safe." He replied, patting her hand absentmindedly.
"Well, give it some more time. Think about it: magic without being expelled in summer…" She was trying to convince him, and he knew that she knew that the argument of magic outside Hogwarts was the most compelling. He just shook his head at her, deciding that not commenting was probably the safest for him.
Over the next few days, Daphne tried to convince Harry to return to Diagon Alley, even if just for his school things and maybe, just maybe, they could get the Trace removed? Maybe they could Harry some proper clothing? Maybe they could practice their magic?
Harry had to point out that there were muggle stores too that provided clothes that were comfortable, stylish and economically sound. She agreed to go clothes shopping with him once they had finished their homework. The pair had simply trooped down to the cupboard under the stairs and got Harry's suitcases after Dudley wrestled the key from his father (though it was more like a polite question than anything else).
That was what they had been doing, their respective homework. She gave Harry a hand with his every now and then, seeing as she had a lot of his subjects too. Harry was dropping both Divination and History of Magic, even if he did well in them; they were boring and he hated it with a passion.
It was while they were surrounded by parchments and quills and numerous textbooks that Dudley entered. He liked sitting in on their discussions, his head whipping back and forth as they discussed things like Potions, Transfiguration and Charms, and Harry relayed the story of the troll in their first year, causing his cousin to laugh so loudly that he fell off his seat.
Harry was doing better, but he knew it was temporary. He wasn't in the depths of despair anymore, he didn't feel the need to kill himself, but he knew this was just a ride, and he would end up crashing, but he preferred being happy, if only for a while.
He often glanced at his cousin, who went out of his way to make them feel welcome, and at his guest, and smiled at himself; because they were making him better, they were making his thoughts lighter. At least for now.
Daphne's insistence at visiting the wizarding world was soon mirrored by Dudley, who asked if he could see the wizarding world. They kept nagging at Harry for a week, until Harry finally caved in, agreeing only if they were in disguise. That was quickly rivalled by Daphne that the goblins ("Holy crap, Harry, goblins? Will you please get me a picture book on what else you have in your world?"), would know immediately. She volunteered to go as herself because between the three of them she was the safest and once they got a meeting with a goblin, they would take the disguises away.
That was why, a week later, the three teenagers set off, until they were out of range and Daphne apparated them to The Leaky Cauldron. Harry flipped the hood of his cloak over his head, and quickly enlarged a pair of robes for Dudley.
Daphne tapped a few of Harry's attributes, making his eyes brown, his hair a bit longer to completely cover his scar and turning his hair a few shades lighter. She didn't do anything to Dudley; no one knew him anyways, except for the Weasleys, and if Harry knew them like he thought he did, Mrs Weasley would be paranoid and wouldn't allow her family to go to Diagon Alley.
"Please contain your excitement, Dudley. In the wizarding world, it isn't custom for someone your age to gawp at everything." Harry said dryly, but he saw Dudley smile at him.
The trio made their way to the biggest building, with Dudley looking around at everything, but he didn't comment on anything. Diagon Alley was, not surprisingly, emptier than it had been any of the previous years.
Dudley's mouth fell open when they stopped before the largest and grandest building: Gringotts Bank. Harry tapped his cousin to show him the rhyme just outside the bank, and paused for him to read it. Dudley paled once he was finished.
"No worries there, mate, I'm too scared of you to try." Dudley said thickly, and Harry wasn't sure if he was joking or not.
Dudley tried really hard not to stare at the goblins inside the bank, but failed miserable. Harry was just relieved that the Goblins weren't a sight to get used to and that even Daphne seemed to be staring at them. He smirked under the hood.
Daphne greeted them respectfully and asked for a private meeting. The goblin led them to a consultation room, where Harry's altered features were vanished.
"Mr Potter, it's good to see you again." The goblin said with a slight bow which Harry, at Daphne's gesture, mirrored. "If I may be blunt, why have you brought a non-magical human being into Gringotts?"
Harry chuckled nervously, "He's my cousin, Dudley, and he was curious."
Dudley grinned a bit guiltily and gulped.
"No need to fret, sir," The Goblin said to Dudley, "We often do indulge curiosity." He said in a rather Snape like tone of voice, though more amused than anything.
He then turned to Harry and Daphne, motioning for the three to sit down.
"So, what is this about?" The Goblin asked
"Sir, we would like to know about getting rid of the Trace." Daphne said, taking the reins. Dudley leaned over and asked Harry what she was talking about.
"The Trace Miss Greengrass is not something that is goblin-made." The goblin replied, tapping his wrinkled fingers together.
"I know, but I'm certain this isn't the first time someone has asked you, nor will it be the last," Daphne said in what Harry thought was a business-like tone, "I also know you have a price for said information. Name it."
"We have enough gold. I work in a bank full of it" he said, practically rolling his eyes.
"I wasn't referring to gold." Daphne said, pulling out a small pouch from her purse and spilling the contents onto the desk between them. Out spilled several pieces of fantastic jewellery: a tiara, quite a few necklaces with matching earrings and bracelets and even a broach or two.
Harry saw the beady little eyes look at the jewels greedily, and Harry had to intervene.
"Daphne, I can't let you do that!" Harry yelled. He then realised that he had no reason to yell and a blush crept up his cheeks.
"Of course you can, Harry. These trinkets mean nothing to me, and Griphook can choose one of the following." Daphne said, keeping her eyes on the small creature. Griphook picked up the tiara and examined daintily.
"This is goblin-made." The Goblin said.
"True. I assume you choose the tiara?" Daphne replied, and Griphook nodded. She scooped the rest of her jewels into the pouch and put it away. "Hold up your end of the bargain."
"In Knockturn Alley there is a man. His name is Alexander Walt Bishop, he own a shop named Bishop's Bottles, and while the name points to an Apothecary, it is only half that. The other part is devoted to the breaking of curses, and he will, for a price, remove the Trace. You do realise this curse removal is of questionable legality?" The Goblin asked, though in an uncaring manner. From what little Harry knew about Goblins, he knew they didn't really care for wizarding law.
Daphne smiled, "Yes, I do, sir, but we both know you don't see eye to eye with the Ministry of Magic."
"I want to be emancipated." Harry piped up, and the other three tuned to him. Harry was just glad his voice hadn't made a knack jump.
"Excuse me?" Griphook said.
"I want to be emancipated," Harry repeated, "I want to be able to live on my own. I think I can do it, can't I? Both of my parents are dead and I'm nearly sixteen… can I do it?" Harry asked.
Griphook nodded, "Yes, it can be done."
"How long will it take?" Harry wanted to know.
"Not long, but we have to make an appointment with my superior for that." The Goblin replied
"Of course, where do I do that?" Harry asked.
"It's already done, sir." The Goblin, again replied in a business like manner.
"Thank you. I think that's all, can we go to my vault? I need some gold if I am to go shopping." Harry said
Griphook nodded again, getting up and gesturing for the others to follow.
"Now, Dudley, this is like a rollercoaster ride. Just hang on and keep swallowing, I don't want your sick all over me." Harry grinned as the cart sped away.
Harry also found out that he was the only heir to Sirius' estate; it included Grimmauld Place and some extra money, as well as the house elf. Kreacher didn't like it, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice.
…
The trio walked into Knockturn Alley, Daphne keeping a hand on Harry's arm. Dudley followed them meekly; he didn't exactly know what else to do, Harry guessed.
They had shopped for some new clothes for Harry, getting his uniform for the year ahead and an extra pair of boots and gloves. Daphne already had a list of Potion ingredients and the books they needed for the year ahead, due to her father being on the board of directors. Being a Greengrass had some perks, and this was one of them. Due to Astoria being a fifth year, she got the fifth year list too.
He didn't know who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was, but he hoped he (or she) would be better than Lockhart and Umbridge. He had liked the classes given by Lupin and Moody, even if the latter had been an imposter, because they actually taught him something. And Umbridge deserved a cell in Azkaban for her crimes, because she was just…
She shook her head and drew Harry to the shop Griphook had mentioned, Bishop's Bottles, which was nearly at the end, but it seemed she knew where it was, thanks to her father having exposed his daughters to Knockturn Alley early in life. She mentioned that she knew the Bishops son, but only from seeing him, and that he was in Harry's year.
They stopped just outside the shop, and Harry was a bit surprised because, unlike the majority of other shops, this one's windows was impeccable and the items in the window were equally clean and she didn't see a single bug scurrying over the floor.
Harry pushed the door open, a small bell tingled. Daphne went to the till, where a young man about their age was sitting behind the desk. He looked up at them, and Harry saw a pair of alert blue eyes glance up at them. He grinned at them, stepping out from behind the desk, and approached them.
"Welcome to Bishop's Bottles!" He said enthusiastically, "My name is Cyrus Bishop, how may I be of service?" He held out a hand to Harry. Harry took it and shook firmly.
"Hi, I'm…" Harry started before being interrupted.
"You're Harry Potter, I know, and you," he extended a hand to Daphne as well, "you're Daphne Greengrass. I don't know who he is, though." He was referring to Dudley. Daphne looked at the boy as though he was insane, but quickly hid it.
"My name is Dudley Dursley." Dudley said, extending his hand. Harry thought about rebuking him for telling Bishop his name, but since Bishop already knew their names, he thought it was a lost cause.
"I assume you're of non-magical parentage, sir?" Bishop said, causing Daphne to wince. She was sure he would throw them out for bringing a muggle into his shop.
Dudley looked at his feet as he nodded. To Harry's surprise, Bishop grinned.
"Excellent! You're probably the first muggle in Knockturn Alley! That's fantastic!" He shook Dudley's hand enthusiastically.
"You're not going to throw us out?" Daphne asked before she could stop herself.
"No! Of course not!" He called, and then he looked back at Harry, "How can I help you, Mr Potter?"
"Why would you assume it's me that need help and not Daphne?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Call it a hunch." Bishop said, winking playfully. "I am correct, aren't I? I should be."
"Yes, you're right," Harry said, "I want the Trace removed."
Bishop clapped excitedly, "Let me get my father," He walked to the door behind the desk and disappeared through it.
A moment later two men appeared. They didn't look alike, safe for the icy blue eyes. Cyrus Bishop had long hair that reached his shoulders and halfway covered his eyes, he was also lanky and thin, but had next to no muscles. His father, however, had brown hair and seemed rather muscled with a bit of a belly.
"Good morning. My name is Alexander Bishop," The elder Bishop said, extending his hand in a greeting, "A Trace removal. You do realise this isn't exactly lawful, don't you?"
"Oh, I am very well aware, sir," Harry replied, "But I don't care at this moment."
Alexander Bishop looked him over, "Why do you want the Trace removed?"
"I want to learn magic outside Hogwarts, sir, and I live in an area that is mostly muggles, so I can't even blame it on someone else."
"Understandable, of course, but what if muggles see you perform magic?" The elder Bishop asked.
"Then I will erase their memories," Daphne piped up, "I dabbled in that in fifth year."
"You can erase memories?" Dudley sounded awed, "Has that ever happened to me?"
"No, but it happened to Aunt Marge when I blew her up." Harry smiled at the memory. Daphne lifted an eyebrow, Harry vowed to tell her later.
"Come on, Alexander," The younger Bishop said behind his father, "Give Potter this. He is our saviour, after all." The way he said it made Harry cringe, as if he was salivating at the thought. Harry also noticed that he called his father by his name, something not ordinary in pureblood society, he assumed.
"I don't care about the money, I have enough." Harry said, and Daphne nodded vigorously.
"Very well then, come to the back room, and please, call me Alexander." Alexander said, leading Harry to the place behind the desk, leaving Daphne, Dudley and Cyrus Bishop to themselves. Alexander led him to a room that looked like Snape's private Potions chamber, only a bit dustier and bit more on the dangerous side. Alexander looked around at a few bottles, shoving his glasses up his nose to look at things better, before making a loud 'a-ha!' sound and holding up a tiny bottle triumphantly. Harry shook his head at the old man.
Once they returned to the front of the shop, Daphne strode to Harry's side, "Alexander, how will we know this works?" She asked.
"Oh, I'm sending Cyrus with you," he said, "He'll see if it works. If it doesn't, you come back and I refund you. He also takes the blame for the magic display." Daphne hoped that wouldn't be the case, because then they would have a lot of explaining to do.
"What is your success rate?" Daphne asked next.
"We've always been successful, Miss Greengrass," Alexander said kindly, handing Harry a small green bottle. "No tricks, though the side-effects include nausea and your ears might be popping for the next few hours."
Harry shrugged before knocking the potion back. Daphne watched him carefully, as if expecting he would grow a second head, but nothing came of it. Harry smacked his lips repeatedly.
"What does it taste like?" She asked curiously. It was in a green bottle, but it smelled like cinnamon, and Harry wondered too.
"Like liquorice and syrup," Harry replied, "Too sweet. Did it work?"
"I don't know, we'll see when we get home." Daphne said, surprised that she used the word home. Harry raised an eyebrow at her use of the word.
"Is that all?" Alexander asked, heading to the back of the register. Cyrus was off to one side, asking Dudley things about the muggle world. Harry shook his head and asked what his debt was. He paid in full, knowing he was good for it, and decided not to worry too much about the loss of money. His emancipation had opened up his parents' vault, and he made Dudley promise not to tell his parents what he saw.
Harry nodded and they left. Once in Privet Drive, Harry ducked behind number four and did a simply swish and flick, and no owl came sweeping. No owl came sweeping for the next thirty minutes, which meant Cyrus deemed it good to leave, but not before he left with a few wise words.
"You can count on me, Potter," He said with a fiendish grin, "Alexander and I are on your side, no matter what. We would literally do anything for you." He wiggled his eyebrows.
Harry had no idea how to handle Cyrus Bishop, because he was so happy one moment, the next he was offering to get rid of dead bodies. Harry hoped he didn't need the latter service in the near future, though.
He bade the three of them farewell and apparated away, and Dudley started exclaiming about everything he'd seen and experienced and did Harry know that wizards could turn other wizards into ferrets? Because Cyrus said it had happened to a boy in his house and that he thought it fit the boy perfectly. Did he also know that there were potions that could turn you into someone else? It was just fantastic!
Harry didn't stop Dudley, even when they entered the house and seated themselves at the dinner table. Petunia looked at her son, worried, since he was dressed as a wizard and explaining, in excruciating detail, that toe of frog and tongue of dog made a delicious sauce for steak and how to harvest these specific parts. Harry caught on when Dudley started to explain that eye of cat was delicious as an ice cream topping – he was messing with his mother. Daphne had already caught on and was shaking from keeping her laughter hidden.
Petunia silenced her son by placing a large steak in front of him and scathingly apologising for the lack of dog tongue sauce. She then went over to Harry and placed a letter in front of him.
Harry slit the envelope open after thanking her much to her surprise, and drew out a faded yellow page.
Harry immediately recognised the thin, slanting writing and his blood ran cold.
Dear Harry,
If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.
If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,
I am, yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry snorted derisively, looking at his aunt, "Is the owl still here?"
"At the window, damn thing won't leave. You're just lucky your uncle isn't here." She sniffed indignantly, and Harry shared an annoyed look with Daphne.
"Aunt Petunia, I would like you to tell my uncle that should he feel the need to make my life hell again, I will kill him. Or at the very least torture him." Harry said with a firm nod.
"Stupid boy, you can't do magic outside Hogwarts!" His aunt yelled at him, and Harry pulled out his wand with a leer on his face. He snapped his wand sharply, causing a jet of light to hit her on the arm, and she squealed.
"Now I can." He said, adding enough malice in his voice to scare anyone. He thought this was hilarious, but he had to act a tad unhinged to scare his aunt.
Harry and Daphne made their way to his room, him with the letter in hand. This was a problem: if he didn't reply, Dumbledore would make his way to them anyways, and Harry instinctively knew he would send Daphne back to her parents. He couldn't have that.
"Daphne, do you know how to undo a Fidelius Charm? Is it possible?" He asked, showing her the letter. Daphne's eyes widened a bit in panic at the words.
"Harry, he'll send me back…" She started, ignoring his question, her expression falling. Harry put a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"I won't let him, but we need to get out of here. Can one undo a Fidelius Charm?" He asked, his voice a bit stronger.
"There is a way, you can call it void if it has passed from one name to another. Like Sirius Black's house that now belongs to you." She said, a light going on in her mind.
"How?" Harry asked quickly
"Well, you can cast a new one, and you need to choose another secret keeper… but I could do it, I learned about it last year, though we weren't advised to do the practical work," She offered, "One thing my father did was make us study during summer, so I know what to do."
"Then I would like for us to move into Grimwauld Place." He said, not realising that it would be just them in the house, at least not immediately.
"Sirius Black's old house?" She asked, to make sure. He nodded his confirmation.
"Well, we can arrange that, Harry, but who will be your secret keeper?" She asked. Harry considered asking her, but if they were found living together and Harry knew Aunt Petunia would tell Dumbledore that she had been visiting, so she seemed obvious.
"Dudley." Harry said suddenly, causing the girl to lift an eyebrow. "I should ask Dudley. Dumbledore is under the impression that Dudley and I are hostile towards each other, and he's a muggle." Harry grinned, jumping up and running to his cousin's room.
"Dudley!" Harry yelled, storming into Dudley's room, causing his cousin to jump on his bed.
"For crying out loud, Harry, there's this new invention, it's called knocking and talking in a normal voice!" Dudley spat back, sitting up, "Now, what has you so excited?"
"I need you to be my secret keeper." Harry announced.
"Okay."
"You do know what a secret keeper is, don't you?" Harry asked, unsure of the acceptance. He was sure Dudley had no idea what it was.
"Of course, now, open up." Dudley said, slapping his hands together in expectation.
"What?" Harry blinked, uncertain as to what Dudley was saying. He guessed Dudley didn't know what he was talking about and took it up literally.
"What is your deepest secret?" Dudley asked, and Harry blushed. He had many secrets, but he wasn't sure which one was his deepest or most embarrassing.
"Dudley, I…" Harry tried, but Dudley just ignored him.
"Why is Daphne here? Is she pregnant?" Dudley asked, and Harry blushed again at the memory of Daphne straddling him.
"Dudley…" Harry tried again.
"It's true, isn't it?" Dudley looked as though he was a cat that had gotten some fresh cream. Harry shook his head repeatedly.
"Dudley!" Harry screamed, hoping to quiten his cousin, "No, remember, you found Daphne? Not me, so this isn't anything like that. No secrets, I swear, none of that kind."
Dudley looked a bit crestfallen, but motioned for Harry to continue. Harry took a deep breath.
"Remember the nights my parents died? Well, they were protected by something called the Fidelius Charm, a charm that can protect the whereabouts of a place, and by extension its inhabitants. But they have a secret keeper, a person who keeps this place a secret. I want that to be you."
"Will it hurt?" Dudley asked, almost childishly. Harry kept a laugh inside.
"No, but you will need to go the place to participate in the charm." Daphne said from the doorway, and both boys jumped.
Dudley put a finger in front of his lips, as if he was seriously contemplating the idea, "Well, Harry, I am honoured," He said, "Honestly, it means a great deal that you trust me that much. To keep your whereabouts a secret from all the evil people…"
"Not just the evil people… Dumbledore's coming, and you have to pretend you have no idea where we are." Harry said, looking at his shoes. He honestly thought Dudley was the best choice, because no magical person would think to ask a muggle to be a secret keeper, and Dumbledore was under the impression that the two cousins currently shared a certain tenacity towards one another.
"Okay, to keep your secrets from evil people and Dumbledore… Wait, who is Dumbledore?" Dudley frowned.
"He is Hogwart's grey haired, twinkly-eyed, interfering, manipulative, vague headmaster with a freakishly long beard, who never answers my questions and who treats me like a bloody first year even though I am nearly 16 years old and capable of free thought." Harry said scathingly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Dudley, it would really help." Daphne said softly, and Dudley smiled at her. "You can always drop by anytime to escape from this mad house…"
That seemed to clinch the deal, because Dudley accepted instantly.
. . .
A/N: Well, there you have it. Update will come faster, and I have a beta to prove it. Please review.