Harry opened his eyes. Under any other circumstances, the familiar scent of childhood and the sight of the ceiling less than a meter from his head would have sent him flying into a panic. At the moment, however, nothing less than an elated grin covered his face.
An instant later, the deathly hallows, recognizing his achievements, flew to him easily, appearing before him with but a thought. Smiling fondly, he curled under his invisibility cloak, sent a powerful, wordless alohomora at his confining cupboard door, and escaped, wand and stone in his pocket and hidden skilfully under his cloak.
Once on the street, Harry reached for the Elder Wand and looked around. He could probably use a car, but that was relatively boring. No - he'd use a motorcycle, if he could find one.
He walked for about a mile before he finally found one. Quietly noting the house so he could buy a replacement for them later, he quickly shot a flurry of charms at the midnight-blue bike and hopped on, grinning as it rose into the air obediently.
He rose into the air and never looked back.
Checking his age, he managed to get the day and year. It was around a month before Harry was due to go to Hogwarts; he had a month to deal with as many problems as possible.
First on his list was sorting out his Gringotts accounts and destroying the horcruxes. He wasn't particularly eager to die again, but he wasn't sure what options he had. It was times like this he wished he had the thirst for book study that Hermione had, but there wasn't much he could do. He'd just have to find a way to do it.
Having a goal made it all the more real, and he felt it begin to overwhelm him as he approached the Leaky Cauldron. By the time he hit the ground in a nearby alleyway, he was shaking. He slid off the bike and rested his back against the walls, staring at his hands for what seemed like forever.
He counted elephants in his head until he felt his breathing return to normal. He felt his pulse, running over his duties in his head. Go to Gringotts. Collect the Gryffindor heirship. Destroy the did it once before. He could do it again.
A solid, self-assuring nod, and he was off again. Shrinking the bike down, he quickly started at a run down the street, keeping his eye out for the elusive doors to the Leaky Cauldron.
Finding them, he dove inside the pub and held his cloak under the crook of his arm, breathing hard. He hadn't anticipated how weak his eleven-year-old self would be.
Warily brushing his hair over his scar, he dashed away towards the door out the back, tapping the blocks in quick succession and walking through eagerly. Despite having isolated himself after Draco's death, it could not be denied that he loved the magical world and everything within it.
He was around halfway there when he was stopped.
"Hey, you there."
Harry froze, then forced himself to relax and turned around, careful to keep his scar covered. "Can I help you?" He asked politely. "I'm in a bit of a hurry."
Daphne Greengrass. Harry remembered her faintly as a Slytherin alongside Draco, a pureblood and friend of Pansy Parkinson; he didn't actually know much beyond that. He turned to face her fully and noticed she was alone. It was strange; purebloods usually valued their children. Why would she be on her own?
Just as he thought that, a younger girl followed up behind her. The similarities were faint, but Harry noticed them. Sisters, then. What was her name again…? Astoria?
"I'm fine," Daphne insisted. She seemed much less cold than he remembered her being… "but you look like a street rat. Are you alright?"
Harry had the sense to glance at himself. "Huh. You're right. Thanks for telling me." He'd completely forgotten about what he was wearing. He probably wouldn't have noticed if he was wearing a clown suit, he'd been in such a rush.
"But why are you in such terrible clothes?" She demanded.
Harry shrugged. "I don't have any others." It was true.
"Then get better ones," Astoria reasoned. "Why aren't you getting better ones?"
Harry shuffled awkwardly. How did he explain that? She seemed like the most simple-minded nine-year-old he'd ever met. "I don't have money?"
Daphne sighed. "We'll get you better ones. Come on, Madame Malkin's is over this way."
Unable to think of anything to convince her otherwise, Harry followed. He briefly wondered just how he was going to repay them for this without having the Greengrasses know they had owed him anything in the first place, but decided it was unimportant compared to his duties. His mind wandered until he found a suitable question to ask.
"Um, if you don't mind my asking… where are your guardians?" Daphne seemed almost sheepish at this, but wore a careful mask of indifference through it.
"We were separated earlier today. The crowds are much larger during the daytime." Daphne refused to say more. "Here we are. Go on."
Harry gave her a bright smile and stepped into the familiar shop. Late at night, it had a much more relaxing atmosphere, and Harry glanced towards Daphne and Astoria just once before hopping into a chair and waiting patiently for torture to begin, casting a disillusionment over his scar quickly while nobody was looking..
He was quickly attacked by the attendants in the shop, who fussed over him as if he were a media darling despite his disillusioned scar. Mourning briefly that he might never escape his fame, he allowed the Greengrass girls to advise the employees, pestering them over colours and generally do the shopping for him. He fell into a haze of consideration, letting his thoughts wander as people pricked him with pins and generally made a mess of clothing.
"There, finished," one of the attendants announced. "That'll be fifty galleons, dears."
The money passed hands, and Harry left the store wearing what he considered to be a rather stifling blue set of dress pants and a sharp black polo, covered by soft black robes. He sighed in resignation at the bag of clothes he carried with him under his other arm, his first still occupied by his cloak. At least he'd been able to move the bike, the wand and the stone to his pockets.
"Thank you very much for purchasing clothes for me," Harry said kindly, nodding politely to each sister. "I appreciate it."
Daphne nodded quietly, a ghost of a smile on her lips, and Astoria shot him a proud grin. "It was only right," Daphne said modestly.
Harry smiled. "Right. Say, you're headed home, right?"
They nodded slowly. "But we don't know where our parents are," Astoria continued easily.
Harry grinned. "Right. Let's find them." He pulled out the Elder Wand and cast a powerful search charm, smiling as it began to lead him in the right direction. "You following?"
The sisters eyed each other, nodded, and followed him.
Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were much more interesting than Harry had anticipated.
Mrs. Greengrass, in particular, seemed to want to coddle him, which was a confusing experience. Mrs. Weasley had always cooed over him, but she hadn't been so openly attentive towards him; she treated him like just another son. Mr. Greengrass was quiet, but he smiled gently and gave silent nods and shakes as answers. It was interesting to see them in a new light, as parents before pureblood supremacists. He suppressed his memories of the family and continued on.
"So you're here all alone, Teddy?" Mrs. Greengrass inquired, sitting next to him. The two parents had been at a small establishment on the other side of Diagon, and he had had to quickly give her a cover name. "What happened?"
Harry bit his lip and quickly formed a story to tell. "I… my parents are dead, ma'am."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Mrs. Greengrass said quietly. "Who was taking care of you?"
"My squib aunt and her muggle husband, Mrs. Greengrass," Harry replied slowly.
Mrs. Greengrass frowned, but nodded. "Right. Can you get back to them?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "I'm not allowed to."
"Why?" Now she looked slightly irritable, and heavily confused.
"Aunt Petunia kicked me out. She doesn't like magic, see," he explained in the simplistic way of a child, "so she decided to get rid of me." He shrugged. "I walked around and got here."
Harry did not expect the steel in Mrs. Greengrass's voice. "Your Aunt, Petunia," she spoke as if she were talking of a rather disturbing accident, "Is she your magical guardian?"
"No," Harry replied, confused. "I think some guy named Dumbledore is, though I've never met him."
"Ah, ministry-appointed, then," Mrs. Greengrass shared a pointed look with her husband. He nodded once. "Well, Teddy... If you wanted to, that is.. Would you like to have us as guardians instead?"
Harry was unprepared for this question. "You mean… I'd be your son?"
"Exactly." Mrs. Greengrass confirmed. Daphne and Astoria were watching in rapt curiosity now. "We could blood-adopt you. We would give you an official family name and a family. Would you?"
Harry quietly considered. He'd come here for Draco. But perhaps it was not wrong of him… to accept the chance to have his childhood dream come true.
"I'd love to."
A/N; further explanations for why Harry was so quickly accepted will be offered to any who ask. I believe my reasons here are justified; however, I do understand that it's highly unlikely such a thing would actually happen in real life. However, I believe I'll fall back on the 'it's just a story' for this, silly as I feel doing it.
Also - my Deathly Hallows are a bit OOC. Basic explanation is that, when one person masters them all, they immediately join that person. The sort of 'Master of Death' that the stories suggest. They will be loyal to him until either he dies or the requirements of the objects passing hands is met - specifically, someone steals the wand, the owner of the stone suicides, or the owner of the cloak passes the cloak on to another.