~oo00oo~

Chapter 12

Be Mine

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―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

15 January 1985

Vernon Dursley hummed as he chose between two ties. It had been a very good weekend and he had already told everyone in the office about the prize his family had won. He decided on the darker brown today and made his way down to breakfast. Petunia was already on the phone with one of her lady friends from the garden club. She had told Vernon that the family was in desperate need of a new closet since they were to be featured in adverts that might be seen by the whole country. Vernon had whole heartedly agreed with her and she had already gotten started on making sure that the Dursley family would be more than presentable in their pictures with the help of the jealous ladies of the garden club.

Vernon himself was more interested in making sure that the photos they took would be of high enough quality for the travel agency to want to use for a good long time. He had looked into buying a professional style camera for the occasion. When he mentioned it to one of the other managers at Grunnings he had been sent off on a new mission. The new camera recorders that had just hit the market were professional enough for the smart hobbyist, but they were even more expensive than the new gaming system he'd bought to play with his son. But if it meant more pictures of his perfect family were used and therefore seen? Perhaps it was worth the investment.

The boy had made an acceptable meal for breakfast, but Vernon Dursley was thinking more on whether he should buy a new camera and a camera recorder than on how much marmalade he was layering onto his toast. As Petunia finished her call and encouraged their perfect son to eat something, though it did not seem to be going well for either of them, Vernon was still silent. His coworker had an in at one of the larger electronics company and if Vernon was willing to pay a king's ransom he could have equipment that was just about to hit the market. It would be quite the coup for him socially just to own such equipment, but to be able to say he had used it for this picture or that video every time an advert was seen?

A small greedy smile crept along his face and his beady eyes nearly disappeared into the cheeks of his large beefy face when he enthusiastically took to the idea. He was definitely going to see to it this very day. Now, though, it was half past eight. He kissed his wife on the cheek, gave his son a pat on the head, and scolded the good for nothing who was at the sink cleaning dishes- as he should be. Wouldn't do to let the boy get any ideas, no nonsense like that would happen in the perfectly normal Dursley house, thank you very much.

On his drive to work Mr Dursley tried to focus on the three orders of drills he was to organize over this week, but his mind kept wandering back to the prize his family had so deservedly won. Who better to have something like this than the Dursley family? They were, after all, the picture perfect British family. This situation wasn't just a social coup for each of the Dursleys, it was also a marketing opportunity for Vernon Dursley. A chance to show the higher ups how well he could rub elbows. A month long holiday in America wasn't something just anyone did, it wasn't Majorca after all. Anyone could go to Spain, but this was something different. It could be a talking point for a large number of reasons. It could be part of his new sales pitches.

By the time Mr Dursley reached the offices of Grunnings and made his way to his desk on the sixth floor, he knew he would be moving up in the business without any doubt. This trip was exactly the launching pad he needed. He was so certain that his career would rocket up after the trip that he called up his coworker right away and agreed to buy both the professional camera and the camera recorder. His coworker said he would be able to get in touch with his contact this afternoon and by this evening Mr Dursley would have the best equipment available on the market.

Pleased with the start of his morning, he continued on with his day in much the same manner. Constantly thinking and talking about his upcoming American holiday at the much lauded Disney World. He did manage to get some of his work done. He yelled at two different people and made several important phone calls all before lunch. He was in a good mood when his coworker, who he decided to think of in more friendly terms, told him that his contact was available for lunch. Not at all worried about the work he had to finish, Mr Dursley agreed to get lunch with the two and discuss this amazing video equipment.

By the end of lunch, Vernon knew he had made a lasting impression on the two men. He might not be the videophile they were expecting, but he was earnest and sincere in his interest. They liked his reasoning for buying such high end equipment and congratulated him on his good fortune with hearty claps to the back. His coworker's friend was in marketing and his firm's clients were the ones with the video equipment. Apparently, they had been given several sets to use while deciding on their marketing scheme.

This man was genius enough to realize that a family man taking the equipment on holiday was the buyer persona they were looking for and would be able to produce the kind of realistic content their ads would need. Of course, he couldn't just give Vernon this extremely expensive equipment so he could go off to America. Especially since Vernon had just spent most of lunch boasting about how this travel company was going to put the Dursley family in their adverts. To the man in the know that meant the contracts Vernon and his wife had signed probably gave the exclusive rights for all pictures of the holiday to the travel agency. But he was willing to sell the equipment to Vernon anyway, he would just have to pay the full price since his company wouldn't be able to use any of the film. They shook on it, though Mr Dursley had nearly had a heart attack on hearing that the new price was double the original quote, and went back to their respective offices.

Back at his office Mr Dursley went about making a few calls regarding his own finances. He was certain that it would not take him overly long to make up the money spent on new outfits for his family and these new electronics. He did want to make sure that he didn't run into any pitfalls though, before his commission for these new orders was in the bank. After that he focused with all his might on his work as he would definitely be cinching the belt for a while.

When he left the building it was a little later than five o'clock, he wanted to make sure he had finished up the paperwork for that order as soon as possible. He made it home in time for dinner where Petunia told him all about the different things she had organized for the trip. She would do the actual shopping tomorrow, but she had a good list of things that they would need for a month away in another country. He nodded along as he ate, still a bit focused on how big a bill this free trip was generating, when his wife nodded to a large package on the counter and said it had come for him this afternoon.

It was quite a bit after dinner by the time he had the chance to see what this package was all about. His wife was bringing in two cups of tea as he unwrapped the box with the news playing on the telly in the background. Dudley had taken quite a while for her to put to bed and they were both fairly tired after an exhausting day. In the package he found several glossy brochures and maps under a letter in a cream envelope.

"Well, what is it Vernon? Some sort of catalog?"

"No, Pet," Mr Dursley replied as he read the letter, becoming increasingly concerned. "It's from the travel agency. These are all the plans and things that have been paid for already. Er– Petunia, dear– you wouldn't happen to remember the dates of the trip that Moore woman told us, would you?"

Mrs Dursley looked a bit pensieve at that, she'd told everyone who would listen that she was going on this marvelous trip, but she hadn't even known when she was going. "I don't seem to recall the exact dates. We could always call?"

"No– er– there's no need to call. They have the itinerary all laid out here in this letter and then again in the brochures," he held one up so that she could see the date.

"Surely, not," said Mrs Dursley wide eyed and gasping.

"It does seem so–"

"But for this year? Perhaps it means for next year, though I do think I remember her saying it would be this year," she said all in a rush, one hand gripping her tea cup more the other fluttering about as she spoke.

"It is definitely for this year, they have the full dates with the year on the itinerary."

"How can they expect us to be ready for a month long holiday with only a few weeks notice?" Mrs Dursley said this in the same manner one might frown and shoo at a rather unpleasant bug that had gotten too close. "It's unacceptable. There is no way that we will be ready in time. You will simply have to call them and inform them that we will take the trip later in the year. We were the winners after all they can't expect this of us."

"Of course, Petunia," he soothed. "I'll call this number in the morning to see how late we can shift the trip out. You just go about the shopping tomorrow and we will be more than prepared for our adventure."

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―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

17 January 1985

I'm never sure if I like the quiet.

Sometimes the quiet means that I can be alone for a while.

But I'm not really sure if I like that either. Being alone.

It's harder to tell in the quiet and the alone what will happen next.

I definitely like it better when I can tell what will happen next. What I'm supposed to do next. If I know, then I can do it or do it better than I did it last time. Make the bacon crispier. Fold the laundry straighter. Dust the higher places without falling so much.

But in the quiet– In the quiet I'm not sure what to do.

It's like all my muscles get tighter and tighter just waiting for them to bang on the door or to yell at me to do something. Just waiting.

If it's quiet and alone, but all you can think about is all the things that could happen next– It's not so nice.

Mrs Figg promised me my own room at her place when we fix things with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. A real bedroom, like Dudley has. I'm not sure what I would do with all that space. Thinking about it makes my stomach hurt. But not in the way it does when I'm hungry.

It's been forever since I've seen Mrs Figg. She sent her cat to see me though. He had a special jacket sewed on him with a pocket. Inside the pocket was the most wonderful thing ever.

A magic bag!

I had to put it in the band of my trousers to keep anyone from seeing it though. The trousers I was wearing were only loaned to me because Dudley had taken scissors to all the pockets. Once I was shut in my cupboard on Wednesday night I read Mrs Figg's note. She said she put all kinds of things in the magic bag and that she would send Mr Tibbles, that's the cat, back and switch out one magic bag for a different one when it started to get empty.

I didn't know the word "orb" but I think it must mean ball. I like the glow ball, it's not the same as turning on the bulb. It doesn't get hot or make that buzzing sound, and Uncle Vernon can't get upset at wasting electricity on me when I use it because it's my magic that makes it glow. At least that's what Mrs Figg's note says. I think it looks like a tiny moon. I've had it for about a week now and I think it's the best. When I'm sure everyone is asleep I take it out and push just a little and it starts to glow. It's nice.

If I can't sleep, I've been coloring in the books from the magic bag by the light of my tiny moon. It feels super magical!

That's what I'm doing tonight. Mrs Figg got me color pencils to fill in the pictures in the books. This one is different gardens and cottages with little fairies. I'm using lots of blue colors.

I can't sleep cause of the fighting Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia did. They did it all evening. I'm worried the plan won't work cause now they don't want to go on the trip. They're angry that it's so soon. They hate that they are stuck with me. But I thought I wasn't going…

Mrs Figg says the trip is a trick. That when they are gone we can do all kinds of things. But if they don't go, what will happen?

I remember on Saturday when she came to the house as the pretend lady to trick them into signing things so they would go away. I was in my cupboard all day. If I didn't have my magic bag I would have been very hungry. I tried to be as quiet as possible and pretend I didn't exist just like Uncle Vernon tells me to when other people come over. I had to bite my fingers so that even my breathing wouldn't be too loud. Uncle Vernon says he's never known anyone to breathe as loud as me.

I didn't think my muscles could get tighter than they did that day, but today was like that too.

In other ways it had been pretty nice since then though. I had books and coloring and snacks. I even met up with Mr Tibbles a couple of times.

After I read the history book Mrs Figg gave me this adventure book about a wizard kid in America! It was so awesome, I read it real fast. I hope I get another book like that with the next bag.

Maybe I should write a note to Mrs Figg and tell her there's a problem with the plan?

That's what I'll do. I'll finish coloring this picture and write on it that the Dursleys don't want to take the trip. Mrs Figg will know what to do about it.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

18 January 1985

The week had started off on such a grand note, Petunia Dursley recalled as she sighed over her morning tea. This past Saturday the Dursley family had won an incredible and exclusive trip to America to stay at the Disney World resort. Vernon and Petunia had immediately gone about informing the whole of Little Whinging about the win the very next day. She had spent all of that Monday discussing with the other neighborhood ladies what one should pack for such a long and grand holiday. Why, none of them had even been to America before and surely couldn't remember anyone going to a wonderful place like Disney World either.

Petunia had taken to organizing for this trip like she imagined she would if set to host for a gala that might be deserving of her attentions. She was so immersed in the discussions of her wonderful family holiday and the purchases that would need to be made that she didn't realize she had no idea when they would be leaving. In fact it wasn't until Tuesday, long after they had been celebrated over and had their photoshoot done, that the travel agency sent documents detailing the dates.

The brochures that the Moore woman had left were wonderful in describing the exclusive and luxury treatment that their family would enjoy on their month long getaway, but they didn't say which month. The box that Vernon had opened the other day, however, had brochures with dates and times on them as well as a detailed itinerary. There were fine dinners with dancing and breakfasts set up to be eaten with cartoon characters. There were animals to see and pictures that could be taken. The travel agency had even included an autograph book for her Dudders. It truly was a spectacular holiday, and all of it would be free.

She and Vernon had argued since he had spoken with the woman over the phone about the dates of the trip. He had called the very next morning, Wednesday, after opening that box. How on earth could one expect to be ready for such a long holiday in a foreign country with such little notice? It was the height of absurdity. Vernon said that not only would the travel agency not change the dates, but since they had already paid for the trip the Dursleys would be financially responsible for the whole thing if they did not go. After all, they said, the whole point of a travel agency giving away such a trip was for the marketing the family would do by going on the trip.

Instead of shopping while walking on clouds as she ought, Petunia Dursley had spent Wednesday trying to work some way around going on an exclusive trip. Or at least putting it off until later. The clothing they needed would be more what one might wear for summer here, surely in Florida it would be quite a bit hotter than they were accustomed to handling in February. How was she to find such out of season clothing in the first place?

They had called the agency back later, of course, after she and Vernon had argued more. The agency said that the Dursleys had signed up for the contest knowing the rules and then they had signed multiple contracts in front of a notary agreeing to the rules once more. They would either pay for the trip and not go, or they would go on the trip for free. That was the end of it.

Petunia had spent all of yesterday arguing with her husband as well. He had returned from the office with two large cases and an enormous smile. Vernon had purchased a camera of the highest quality to take professional photos while they were abroad. She could admit that it was probably worth the purchase, he had sound logic for it. If they were going to be pressed into this holiday so soon and wanted the photos they took to be included in the travel agency's adverts then they would need good quality photos which meant a good quality camera.

It was the other purchase that she thought a bit silly. This camcorder might be the next big thing, but surely the agency wouldn't want to use home video footage for their television ads. When her husband told her how much it had cost, it didn't really matter to her that the camcorder was barley even out on the market yet. What a foolish thing to buy! Why they could nearly pay for a holiday of their own for such a price!

She flipped through another glossy magazine showcasing the easy ways to get to and from the different parts of the resort and their accommodations. It was a truly wonderful place. They even had a babysitting service within the hotel and a little daycare in a another facility for when the parents needed some time to themselves. Perhaps when Dudley is a little older they can return so he can take advantage of these horseback trips for children. Her little Dudders would look so handsome on a horse.

The worst of it wasn't even that they would have to find and buy so many new outfits so soon. No it was that they would have to find a way to deal with that boy for such a long period of time with such short notice. They had completely forgotten about the trouble he caused in their euphoria. Who would want to deal with the little pest for so long? It's not like they could trust the boy to stay in the house for a whole month and not destroy everything. Perhaps if they had more time or it was a more convenient season they would find a reforming camp somewhere, someplace where bad children went to be trained into behaving like the real, proper sort of people that the Dursleys were.

There was a knock on the door. It might be one of the ladies with an idea of how to find new swim shorts in January for her husband. Petunia carefully set down her tea and straightened out her dress before answering the front door.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Dursley," came the irritating voice of a foul smelling woman. Though usually the old woman smelled of cabbage, today she smelled heavily of perfumes. Possibly she had started drinking and was using what must be six different perfumes to cover the reek of alcohol. Petunia Dursley nodded imperiously at her while trying not to breathe. "I do hope I've not come at a bad time. I know you must be hard at work planning that trip the whole neighborhood is talking about. Congratulations dear. But I was wondering about– about the company you hired to refit your kitchen?"

That came as a surprise to Petunia, not that everyone knew that she had garnered such a wonderful prize for her family or even that she and Vernon had refit their kitchen. It was odd that this little old widow would have the funds available to do such a thing to her own home. The Dursley family had taken quite a great deal of pride in refitting their kitchen just after Dudley had been born. The fixtures and appliances were much bigger and of a much higher quality than anything found elsewhere in Little Whinging even three years later. The family had hosted a number of other couples and young families to put their kitchen on display. Everyone should know how well appointed the Dursley house was and by that know how well off the Dursleys were. It was quite the investment.

Since Petunia hadn't deigned to say anything to the old woman other than to raise an inquiring brow she continued, "I've had one out to estimate a new flooring in mine and it's just such a high amount. Just the cost of labor to tear out the old floor is ridiculous. If I was a mite younger I would do it myself."

She sniffed at the woman, but then Petunia nearly gagged at the stench of her. Of course she couldn't afford it even if it was just flooring. To think that she could cut the cost of the labor by tearing out the floor herself, even a decade younger this woman would blow over with a strong wind.

But suddenly Petunia had an idea. It was a wonderful idea. It was an idea that would solve all her problems. An idea that would see her family enjoying sunsets on sandy beaches.

She might have thought that the smile she was giving Mrs Figg was a kind one. To anyone else the smile on Petunia Dursley's face, as she thought of pawning her nephew off on an old widow so that he could spend a month doing hard labor while she sipped champagne in a silk dress without a care in the world, would not have been out of place on a movie villain.

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

18 January 1985

After securing Harry from Petunia, I went in to Gringotts for a followup meeting with the head wardsmith and Master Clinkscale. Though we had spoken during the debriefing after we had finished with swarming the Dursley house, there was much that had needed put together and gone over. The debriefing had made quite the impression on me. The head wardsmith was a witch named Natalia Rayner. She fascinated me with her incredible ability. She must fascinate that goblins as well to make a witch the head wardsmith instead of a goblin.

After the swarm she was initially upset that we hadn't let her near the staircase that her teams had determined was where the greatest point of magic was coming from when we had them at the Dursley's home. Then she was upset that it had been explained to her only during the debriefing, that the child savior of wizarding Britain was locked in the cupboard under the stairs and that was why the space could not be more thoroughly examined. When she had stated that the warding was also pinpointed under the stairs I had to explain to her that the only thing significantly magical in that cupboard was a small, repeatedly abused boy that we were working on saving. That caused an even greater upset. If the child was the only thing under the stairs and the wards were maintained by the magic under the stairs, then that meant that the child was the one sustaining the wards.

When Master Clinkscale and I had sat down with Wardsmith Rayner for the follow up I wasn't expecting good news. I didn't think that there could be any good news. Maybe with the exception that we could get around whatever Albus had done, that might count as good news. She laid out for both of us everything that they knew from their investigation and I was shocked.

"It should be obvious that the wards in place are not ordinary wards," Rayner started. "It would not be entirely surprising for wards on such a celebrated child to be incredibly strong or forceful or even very complicated. However," she sighed, "the wards are so much more and things are so much worse than any we could have imagined for this situation."

"I hope that you will forgive my impertinence, Wardsmith Rayner, but I have a background in potions and magizoology not warding or protective magics."

"Of course. Let's start with the easy and obvious questions then work our way into the more complicated and, honestly, insane things that are going on here."

It was never reassuring to have a master of anything think that something within their own field should be labeled as insane, it filled me with dread.

"We spoke about how Chief Warlock Dumbledore is responsible for what is happening with the scion Potter at the debriefing. My team can confirm that Albus Dumbledore did not have anything to do with implementing the protections. You must understand first that there are many different types of wards and under each heading of a ward can be one or a thousand different types of protections." She looked over to me and smiled kindly while gesturing between the two of us.

"You and I have spent time in the muggle world Madam Figg. Think of it like the complexity of a television. There are many different types of televisions. Some have better picture, some are larger, some come with additional features, perhaps some just look nicer with your furniture. But even though they all look very different they are all televisions. There are many different types of wards, all have protections as a part of them. Those protections might guard better against one specific thing or person, they might cover a larger area, they might tell you what is going on while they guard, perhaps they are just what works best with what you have available. Do you understand?"

"I believe that I have the general idea." And I did, though I was comparing it more to computers. Wards were different programs that operated under different parameters and rules. That made complete sense, but it probably wasn't something I should share with the fiercely intelligent wardsmith. It would be too much knowledge that I shouldn't have.

"Good. Now there are many, many protections that we were able to discern from our findings in Little Whinging. We would need an even more thorough look to be able to tell if it is one incredibly complex ward scheme, or if it is multiple wards overlaid on each other. None of these could have possibly been created by Albus Dumbledore as they must be created by a close magical blood relation to the person that is being protected. The person in such cases is often the parent of the child being protected. Our current theory has it at ninety percent Lily Potter alone in the creation and powering of the wards and six percent with both of them creating and powering the wards."

"What about the other percent?"

"It gives us some range of error in our calculations. While we are certain that he didn't create or power them we can tell that Albus Dumbledore, or someone extremely powerful who just happened to be in the right place at the right time with a motive," she gave us both pointed looks and we returned them whole heartedly, "manipulated the wards just after they were created. Almost every ward scheme in existence can be dated like tree rings to tell a story. Not even a week had passed, again some room for error, before the wards had been manipulated."

This was both something I had expected to hear and found puzzling. Albus Dumbledore in the books had told Harry that he had cast a charm on him that would help protect him as long as he stayed at his aunt's house, no matter how begrudgingly she took him in. He had also said that it was Lily's death that had created the protections against Voldemort. It hadn't seemed so incongruent before, but now I was questioning it more. Why manipulate something that was already in place and working? What charm would he need to add, that Petunia would need to seal, that wasn't already in the protections?

"The wards were sacrificial in nature, which is extremely illegal these days as they require a human sacrifice. These wards appear to be a unique, personal protection that was blood bound. These types of sacrificial blood wards are usually based on home. Though home is not quite the right term. It doesn't mean a physical house or even the place where one lives. It's more like the corny phrase, 'Home is where the heart is' as it draws off the magical energies of love and family. Anyone that would fall under these tenets would be able to provide viable magical energy to the wards and strengthen them. Except that scion Potter was in a place where he did not have love or family and the only one with ambient magical energy was him."

"Sorry, um, ambient magical energy? I'm not sure I know that term."

"It is perhaps a goblin way of thinking, Madam Figg," came Master Clinkscale's rough voice. I turned from the older witch to the Manager of Estates and he obliged with an explanation. "There are many types of magic, but two main ones that are important to know as from them all others branch. The first of these is called wild magic, it used to be that some places were springs of such magic, but most of those have long since run dry. Wild magic can be created by races like goblins, dwarves, elves, centaurs, merpeople, etc as well as born by a few plants and places. We believe that all races once helped in the creation of wild magic and that even the races that still make such magic once made it in far greater amounts.

"The second type of magic is that of ambient magic. Where wild magic is created or born, ambient magic is given off. Almost all life has ambient magic, some just give off more ambient magic than others. The goblins believe ambient magic is made when wild magic is converted or used. If a goblin were to use magic to craft something they would pull on wild magic from around them, craft with elemental magic, and the act would give off ambient magic. If a wizard were to call on magic they would call from within and use the ambient magic they have already created from the wild magics they naturally absorb and store. Then use their wand magic to create. As long as they are not over using their wand magic, they will produce enough to constantly give off ambient magics. It is for this reason my people have an interest in wand magics."

"Exactly," Rayner said nodding along. "There are some types of wards that can convert wild magics into stable, usable magic but they are fairly uncommon. Think of the magic as the energy to power the television. If you're trying to force the wrong amount of voltage through then you are going to fry it. The original form of these wards would have still worked to a certain extent as the sacrifice of a loving mother would have the power to protect her child all by itself for a very long time. Maybe a decade without the need for further magics to become involved. Almost like an internal battery to power it. A great number of stable wards work like that, a large power supply is given initially and then needs to be topped up when that runs down.

"The manipulations added afterward, however, were straining the power that love had generated. The manipulations forced the protections to cover any being that was a blood relation within a certain area no matter what feelings were involved. Since the wards needed magical energies to survive, once it began to become depleted it would have searched for a source of magic that was within its rules to pull from. This is where things started to get out of hand."

I think I must have looked a bit dazed at this point since Master Clinkscale poured us all some more tea and I took the moment to breathe. This was all new information. It hadn't been read about in books or watched on screens in the future life. It hadn't even been known by the woman who had grown up in this world with constant access to magical places. It fit in with my understandings of squibs though, as some of us could still perform fairly high tasks like the brewing of potions. If someone's magic was active enough to convert natural magical energy, wild magic, into ambient energy then they would most likely be able to create potions or interact with the magical world in much the way that I could. After a few minutes, and a few sips, the wardsmith picked the conversation back up.

"For scion Potter there was only one blood relation within the assigned area and he was also the only one to care about the initially warded individual. Just himself. The problem with pulling from him, though, is that he would have been too weak and he would also have been too young. According to our graphs this would have all started within the first year he was at the Little Whinging residence. To pull magics from him would have hurt him instead of protecting him, violating the basic tenets built into the ward. What the ward did, and we honestly aren't even sure how yet, was pull in magic from the area around scion Potter."

The wardsmith brought out sheafs of parchment with colored graphs, sparkling lines moving between the pieces of diagrams. Master Clinkscale and I looked over the results of the teams' research, but it was far too advanced for me to truly understand.

"From what we were able to decipher the wards began slowly, and then more steadily, siphoning in ambient and wild magics in the area. Crafting him into some sort of magical magnet that would encourage wild magics to come to him. As a magical being he could convert wild magic into the ambient magic which was needed to power the protections. Given the low level of ambient magic in Little Whinging there couldn't have been very much for it to feed off of that, so we believe it started to pull wild magic towards him wherever he went even while outside the physical house and away from the two blood relations that are tangled into the manipulations."

If that were true it would better explain the odd magical plant or pest that had popped up over the years. Most magical plants could only grow at all if they were around magical places and magical pests were usually only attracted to magical homes. I remember thinking that the cats would help keep the pests down when I saw them, but not thinking much else about them.

"Drawing in that magic towards the only one with both the blood and the magical ability to feed them, they made scion Potter into a filtering system. Feeding him wild magic, giving him an excess of magic, and then harvesting the ambient magic or the magic that would give strength to the blood tuned wards. This means that he has been just saturated in magical energy having spent years marinating in wild magics like no one does these days. I believe that the last well known individual to do such a thing, and actually achieve it, was Merlin. It's no small matter to draw wild magics in at such a high rate and convert them to ambient magics at the same time."

It was a good explanation for how quickly he healed from his abuses, how his starvation never killed him, perhaps even an explanation for how quick and clever he was. I remember the stories of Merlin doing that, his meditations within magic. Supposedly he fasted for a year and drew strength and nutrients directly from magic. After that year he was even more magically powerful and was said to have gained great knowledge without having access to a single scroll.

"If the wards are on Harry and are only drawing in all this wild magic so that they can protect him, what would happen should he go to a place that has a great deal of ambient magic? Hogwarts is known to be a place heavy in enough magics that there are several score house elves that live there."

The relief and relaxation that Wardsmith Rayner showed to my question was both palpable and extremely worrying.

"The massive amounts of ambient magic at the school would be more than enough to feed the wards and it would stop doing this to him. It might even be enough to last through the summer months without resuming its previous activities. Though the individuals that his wards were also protecting would need him to stay nearby for a time so that they could benefit from the manipulations. Unlike him, the protections on the two Dursley blood relations would fade without proximal contact. Enough time away would cause the manipulations that had been placed on top of the original wards to break."

And there was that worry. Judging by their confused looks to my fearful expression they didn't understand, though at this point they should realize Dumbledore would have thought of this as well.

What this means is that Harry would have been sent back every summer to the Dursleys to recharge the ward magics on the Dursleys, not on him. It also means that once he started Hogwarts the ward would no longer marinate him in wild magic and whatever assistance that was giving him would end as soon as he passed the barrier to get to the Express. The main parts of the protection wouldn't leave him, but it would never be as powerful as it was while they fed him wild magic.

"You do realize, of course," I said in a shaky voice, "that he intends for Harry to stay at the Dursley house every summer."

"That may have been, Madam Figg, but once Mr Potter was back in the magical world proper it would have been obvious that something was amiss with him."

"I know exactly what you mean," cut in Wardsmith Rayner with a sharpness that pulled our attention to her. She wasn't answering Master Clinkscale, but rather looking at me with a positively terrifying smile. "He was going to send him back and he was going to make sure that it happened no matter what. He would have charmed or brushed off anyone with any concerns, because he definitely wanted scion Potter at the Dursley house. This is the part that I mentioned being so much worse than we had imagined."

She took out an envelope from a folder and spread out its contents between us. I recognized the handwriting. It was a letter to Petunia from Albus. I knew from the debriefing that the teams had found a small box tucked away in the attic with several items that had traces of magic or were magical in nature. They seemed to be things belonging to Lily Potter. Things like pictures, books, a small box with runes set in it. There was also a small blanket and a letter.

The letter was worse than I imagined it being. Worse than anything I had read in fanfiction over the years. It was a masterful manipulation of fear and greed. He told Petunia that Lily and James had died saving the world, but that there was great evil still out there. Little Harry would be in danger and would need to live a life away from the magical world. I am certain that telling someone her only remaining family member, no matter how estranged, has been violently murdered in a letter where you backhand them an insult about not being magical is absolutely awful.

And then it got worse.

He basically told her that she would only be safe from magical people if she took Harry in and allowed him to call her home his own. That it would "seal the charm" to keep them away from her own family. There was quite a lot in there about how she wasn't magical or interesting enough on her own, but that what the Potters had done was absolutely the pinnacle of magnificence and so there would be factions that would seek her out to harm her and her family. It ended with saying she would only have to allow Harry to call her home his own until he reached seventeen and then he could make his own way into the magical world without her.

Wow Albus, way to press every button there is on Petunia. Just masterful.

The letter, for us, confirmed that it was Albus Dumbledore that did the manipulation in the protective magics that had been fueled by Lily Potter's sacrifice for her son. It also put to rest all of the bullshit that I had been worrying about in regards to Harry needing to believe in Privet Drive being home in order to continue his protection. The protections for Harry would continue wherever he went. Either they would be fed by ambient energy in a magical environment or they would pull in wild magic to continue on in a muggle environment. Though, from my understanding of what the wardsmith had said, a home with a family that loved him and could produce ambient magical energy would power the wards best. The protections under the manipulations were for the Dursleys and only they required Harry to be in that house.

Albus had done all this to manipulate Petunia, not to protect an innocent child. Petunia and her husband could have risen above the awful remarks and manipulations, she could have seen her sister's son in need of a loving family and then loved him. Instead she went the complete opposite way and was horribly abusive, to the point where Harry should have died several times by now but had likely been saved by magic. Even with her own son, Petunia was excessive in every way. It was ironic that Harry was saved from the worst of her abuses by his overactive wards saturating him in wild magic that had initially been created by his loving mother.

The manipulation of the wards and how they had affected Harry answered a number of questions that I had been asking myself. I was still worried about the horcrux and what it might be doing to Harry, but the idea of him taking in wild magics as a toddler and turning it into enough of an excess of ambient magic to feed a ward for years had calmed me. No one had really done that sort of thing since Merlin, no one really understood what happened with that type of exposure. Though the goblins and Wardsmith Rayner used different wording for such a deep meditative ritual. It was interesting to think of such an ancient rite in these terms. Rather like photosynthesis, pulling in sunlight to convert energy and breathing out oxygen into the atmosphere. If it would also stop at the same time that he went to Hogwarts, then perhaps that's all it was.

"I understand exactly where you are coming from Madam Figg. It is awful that he would do that to scion Potter. But we aren't going to allow such a thing to happen, so, for me, it is a nonissue. Instead, let's look at the positives. If we cannot find a way to disconnect the manipulations that the Chief Warlock has done, we can still find a place heavy in ambient magic for you to raise scion Potter in without continuing this wild magic saturation. Think of it like needing to feed a magical plant instead of a ward if that helps you. A devil's snare would grow big and hearty near wild magic, but it would do just as well with ambient magic given off by hundreds of wizards and witches living in the same town. We won't need to completely remove the protections in order to help him with the overreactions of the ward."

I bristled a bit, but such was my reality that I would never have enough ambient magic to help Harry even if the wards did consider me a loving home. It was too dangerous to move him to a highly populated wizarding area even if I could maneuver around an all magical house. The plans Master Clinkscale and I had worked on, however, would still work with this new information. Getting rid of the Dursleys would lower the needs of the wards and prevent further saturation.

"I am glad that there are other ways to stop what may be a harmful magical saturation, as you called it, but I don't think you have taken Albus into account here. My biggest worry is him, not the wards which don't seem to be doing anything wrong per se. Albus has a tendency to send various random individuals to check up on the situation. Occasionally they will follow Petunia into a store, casually walk down the street. Taking Harry to another area is very likely something that would have to wait years to do. Master Clinkscale and I do have a potential plan to remove the Dursley variable from Little Whinging, hopefully, without letting on what is happening. Do the manipulations to the wards prevent the separation? If we move them instead would there be issues for Harry?"

The witch sighed at this and made a motion with her hand that implied a maybe. "Master Clinkscale informed me of the hopeful removal of them from their own living space. It is unlikely to cause a problem, or rather it's unlikely to cause a major problem for either side of the manipulation. But I need to examine the child more thoroughly. And not just for the parts that the Chief Warlock manipulated. I desperately want to examine his scar."

"His scar?" I said leaning back in my chair, feeling a bit whiplashed. I had wanted his scar to be examined, of course, but somehow I found myself in a panic that someone who had not even seen him yet would want a closer examination of it. I had hoped to look properly surprised and confused when the healers found something during his initial examination. I was desperately underprepared for someone else wanting to inspect it so soon. I took in a breath but didn't get a chance to say anything before the witch cut back in.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I think that the scar has its own place in these protections. Everyone knows that the scar is shaped much like a lightning bolt right?"

"Yes and everyone knows that the Boy Who Lived is happily training with Albus Dumbledore in a far off castle with a pet dragon." I glared at her a bit and she had the sense to flinch at what she had said. Really, could she be less sensitive to what the child was going through?

"True, I apologize. It's just that there are a few runes that could match that description. The wards that are possibly in play here are things that have not been used by wixen for generations in Britain. And I am fairly certain that the Potters made some modifications to it in order to protect their only child. If his scar is actually a rune that was part of the original ward scheme when the protections were cast and powered, it would be very important to know."

"Important to help him? Or to satisfy your own curiosity?"

Our tempers were both flaring. She was highly lauded in her field, but the kind of hunger to know Harry that was obvious in her eyes and mannerisms was distasteful to me. Harry would be exposed to all kinds of people who would want to use him for various reasons. I didn't want being someone's pet project to be one of those reasons. Especially if she wants to study the scar so closely. While I want that thing out of Harry's head, leaving him to Wardsmith Rayner might be worse than leaving it alone.

"Young Mr Potter is already scheduled for a thorough health check Madam Figg," Master Clinkscale said calmly, glancing between us. "You were the one that very rightly pointed out that Mr Potter was the source of the wards, Master Rayner is following up on that as well as what it may mean for his health. Master Wardsmith Rayner is not familiar with her wards being living people, however, especially not children," he nodded to Rayner and narrowed his eyes at her a bit. "It is in the best interest of the child that we understand the depths of the protections on him and as much about how they work as possible."

The rebuke to her overexcitement was clear to both of us and Rayner appeared upset by it. But still… "Excusing her for forgetting that Harry is just a child is not enough. I don't want her to ever be alone in the room with him at all. I want to meet the healers that will be treating him before I leave today. And no tests will be done on him unless I approve them beforehand."

"I agree with your provisions and, given that we have time before Mr Potter's appointment, Master Wardsmith Rayner will be learning from the healers how to help a child during such examinations. No doubt Mr Potter will be anxious about such an event."

"Good. I also think that we should stick to the original plan. It is good to know that there are ways around the magical manipulations you found in the wards," I acquiesced with a nod in the witch's direction. "But the biggest worry right now is that any information might make it's way back to Albus. If the manipulation does fall will Albus be notified? Is there anyway to tell?"

"There is a way to know if a ward or enchantment has failed," the wardsmith answered, "but there doesn't seem to be anything built into the ward or the manipulation itself to give such a notification. There are tests that can be done to verify that if you would approve them."

"Fine, write it all down and send it to me through Master Clinkscale."

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

25 January 1985

If it hadn't happened to me I might not have believed it myself. When I first started planning to get Harry away from the Dursleys I had thought it would need to be extremely gradual. I had a half dozen plans and ideas for pulling him away from them in bits and pieces. Then my plans kept changing, new things kept happening. Suddenly it all fell into place.

It's hard to believe that I was only a month old.

Born on Christmas day as a blending of Willow Harrison and Arabella Figg, the wild ride made it difficult to keep track of how long it had been. But only a month? So much changed in such a short period of time for both myself and Harry.

We now had signed and notarized contracts for Harry that list me as his sole decision making guardian. Among other things. The goblins took the contract that the muggle solicitor had written up and tweaked it ever so slightly to fit with other laws and plans. Those changes would be very helpful to do more interesting things even later on. For now it meant that I could start looking for day schools that could match his intelligence. I could legally take him across borders without worry. He was officially my responsibility in a way that he had not been to the old Arabella Figg. He was mine in a way that she would never have thought to try.

Being responsible for Harry Potter meant more than just getting him to school and ensuring he had a good environment to grow up in, it also meant making sure that the bad elements in magical society would be unable to harm him. That meant plans against powerful people needed to be made and carried out. The goblins and I were in agreement that the longer we could do this without anyone in the magical world finding out the better it would work. We were also in agreement that the faster I got him away from the Dursleys the easier it would be to begin the next stages of the many plans we were readying.

When I had gone to see Petunia after the travel brochures arrived, I had expected to find her irritated and perhaps frantic. That was all a part of the plan. What was not part of the plan was that the deeper negative energies between Petunia and Vernon Dursley would cause such anxiety with Harry. I honestly hadn't thought how this part of the plan would affect him. I had considered that he would have to stay with them while the plan was in motion. I had even tried to ensure he was eating and feeling better by giving him the extendable pouch, but the ratcheting up of emotions that we were purposefully ensuring with the Dursleys was not something where any of us had taken Harry into account.

I had gotten a message back with Mr Tibbles. It was a coloring page from one of his new books. He had colored in a little fairy garden with blues and purples, drawn a little cat in front of the flowers, and written a message on the back of it to me. He was worried that the plan wasn't working because of the way the Dursleys were behaving. They were yelling, apparently, and hating him even more than usual. Could she do something to make sure the plan would work?

I saw Harry as I shuffled my way up the walk of number 4 Privet Drive on Friday morning. I had just gotten his note, but the plan had always been for me to meet with Petunia Dursley after a few days of anger and worry had worked her over for me. Just as we had gotten them to sign whatever we wanted by making everything quick and spectacular, by making everything feel angry and anxiety inducing we were pushing them to do what we wanted. I had practically bathed in every perfume I could find in the house. I realized that I no longer smelled funny because of proper hygiene and the lack of those cabbage smelling couch covers. This actually worked against the image that I wanted to present as an old lady. I believed that smelling like an overzealous teenage boy that had raided his mother's perfume collection would make an impression.

It certainly worked. Petunia would not have wanted to invite me in, but was even ruder about it because of the way I smelled. She laid out the whole plan for me taking Harry on for the month of February while they were away on their happy family holiday in America. It was obviously her brilliant idea for Harry to come and help me with my floor for the month. I had asked, quite seriously, if it would be alright for Harry to come over a few days earlier. I nearly had that guest room cleared out finally. It wouldn't be a problem if there was no bed, would it?

She had looked positively gleeful at her charge slaving away, without a bed to sleep in, while she was on a holiday. It was sickening and damning. There was never going to be anything that could reform Petunia. She enjoyed doing this to Harry. She wanted him to hurt and for him to be left out. To have a miserable life and feel absolutely unwanted and unloved. I had read in fanfiction over the years that maybe it was just Vernon. Maybe Vernon abused her too. Or maybe it was the horcrux that made them awful people.

I always thought people needed to read the books again.

Women don't try to hit children with frying pans because they are being abused by their spouses. They get quiet, sure. They don't help, sure. But to become violently abusive in their own right? No. Of course, there were many ways to abuse children and Petunia did that too. Then, in the first pages of the first chapter of the first book Vernon Dursley shows himself to be a bully who enjoys his own power. He is in a good mood at the office because he got to shout at people. Nice people don't get put into good moods because they yelled at people.

This whole operation was just exposing Vernon and Petunia as the awful people that they had been all along. It was unfortunate that we couldn't ensure they were taken care of by the justice system properly. Not that the justice system was ever terribly good about these things. The goblins and I had a fairly good plan, and several backup plans, in place to take care of them. To get justice after what evil they had wrought. It would just take patience and cleverness.

Harry moved into his room in my house on Wisteria Walk days before the Dursleys left for America. With the house being remodeled soon there wasn't any permanent furniture yet, but I had gotten a wizard camping bed. It could fold up to the size of a pocket book and was incredibly comfortable. I had also put some new clothes in there for him to wear, we would get more for him another time. Then I had put piles of books and toys in the room. I knew we would change things up, but I wanted to make sure Harry understood that this was a safe space for him with things in it that were bought just for him.

We had spent some time in the morning just talking about how this room would change, but that he would have his own room in this house whenever he wanted. That we could go and get anything he wanted to put in it to make it more his own. He looked so fragile. It must be so difficult for someone used to having anything good taken from them to believe that they could truly have anything good. I had left him up there for a while to let him acclimate, but over lunch we discussed the next part in the Disney plan.

"Harry, I want you to know that if you aren't comfortable with any part of this plan that you can speak to me about it. There are many, many ways to get this done. It doesn't have to be done a certain way if you don't want it done that way."

"Okay," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. I gave him a shrewd look. He probably didn't care as long as he didn't have to deal with the Dursleys anymore, but I wanted to make sure he talked to me if he felt that I was ever going too far. Actually, I wanted him to talk to me about anything he was worried about.

"Right, so the next big part of the plan will happen when the Dursleys leave. We want to make sure that your aunt has a letter written by you in her bag when she goes to America. This letter needs to say that your parents' friends have come to take you away from her."

When we had set the Dursleys up initially the goblin teams had multiple missions laid out for them. Chief among those missions was to uncover anything with any trace of magics on it, especially if it was Dumbledore's magic. Very specifically, Clinkscale and I had asked them to look for the letter that Dumbledore had written and left with Harry when he was abandoned to the Dursleys.

What this letter meant for us was that Albus had legally abandoned the child to people whom he knew were abusive with the manipulation of Lily's dying sacrifice as both stick and carrot for Petunia. In the follow up meetings since then the wardsmiths had declared they were fairly certain that the the manipulations of the wards could be disconnected if they had access to Harry without needing to wait for a long period of time spent away from the Dursleys. These manipulations were turning Harry into a magnet for wild magic in order to feed the protections.

What we wanted to be sure of though was that Albus did not become aware when the disconnection happened. There are apparently what amounts to small monitoring devices for wards and protections. The device would need to be created with something like Harry's blood or hair to work best as these would carry his magical signature, or ambient magic as they called it, and ensure that it would last longer. It wouldn't be until after the information from Harry's exam had been gone over with a fine tooth comb that we would know for certain if there was or wasn't a monitor linked to them. The wards as they were would probably break naturally once Harry reached magical maturity at seventeen. Though the usual way to break something early that was tied to a sacrificial protection like this was through mutual agreement. Both Harry and Petunia would have to agree that her home was no longer his home. If one of them didn't agree, it wouldn't break.

The decision had been made during the many follow ups with Master Clinkscale that Harry would write a letter to Petunia and encourage her to continue to think of her home as a place Harry would call home too. The team had given me a special envelope imbued with runic magic. Once sealed none of the Dursleys would be able to see the envelope until they had been on their trip for ten days. After that Petunia would be able to find it in one of her bags and read it. Harry needed to be the one to write the letter for a number of reasons, mostly because of legal reasons, but also because Petunia would never feel threatened by him.

Petunia had some understanding of James Potter's friends from Lily talking about her years at Hogwarts when she came home. Even should she not know how close they were, or even remember their names any longer, she would most likely assume that Harry would not have written to her under duress. All Harry would have to do is mention that friends of his father had come to my home and that I wouldn't remember it and Harry would be free from their abuses. This had been a part of my earliest of plans. In this way Harry could stay near by without having to be enslaved to the Dursleys, without them questioning him ever, and with a plausible excuse for them to give the neighbors outlined in the letter.

I had spent the last weekend crafting letters and would be reports. Several letters for Harry to look over and decide on for Petunia. The rest were for Albus, I would need to keep up my supposed spying on Harry for him. I would absolutely have to provide a report about the Dursley family winning this holiday and how Harry would be staying with me for the duration. In addition to that I had prepped an outline of what I would tell him of Harry's month long stay with me on Wisteria. I was so angry and volatile though, that I wound up throwing out most of it and starting from scratch several times. Eventually, I had a good enough letter to send through the floo to Albus.

I may have been upset when I wrote it, but I was even more so when I received his response on Tuesday. I was upset and very, very lucky. After one of our meetings Clinkscale had encouraged me to get a Dispelling Box. It would work by alerting me that whatever was placed within had magic attached to it and report what that magic was to a diary linked to the Box. The Dispelling Box could then clear the magics from the object in question. It was a shortcut in low level cursebreaking apparently, and it came in handy with the letter I received from Albus.

The Box had glowed when I tipped the letter out of the enchanted message tube. When I looked over to the linked diary I found that there was a mild compulsion charm so that the reader holding it would believe everything said in the letter. Did that mean Albus realized I doubted him? Was it possible I had been revealed as a…?

Actually, what was I now?

I wasn't his spy. I wasn't a double or triple agent. Or was I? Could one be a double agent if they decided to work on their own? Maybe.

After reading the letter, I relaxed a little more. When I had written to Albus I made sure to include my thoughts on how the Dursleys would come back from their holiday crueler to Harry than when they had left. His letter was just all about how Harry is safer in a truly muggle environment and whatever small differences there are between the family he is certain they will work out.

What a load of rubbish.

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

26 January 1985

After Harry had settled into my home and finalized his letter to Petunia, we had gone about practicing our acting in our Fabulousa disguises. He definitely had fun playing with the different hairstyles and complexion possibilities. I had to disappoint him with the fact that we had to wear one of the styles that did not have animation in it since we would be around muggles. After some time, we were each suitably disguised and understood the characters that we would play while out and about. We were pretending that this was the first time that young Richard would be joining his mother, a muggleborn, in Diagon Alley. It would explain away what was sure to be excitement and fascination in everything that was going on while also allowing him to ask questions about anything he saw. I absolutely wanted to encourage him to ask me questions and enjoy the magic of the alleys, he was still so quiet and it was worrisome.

I was certain, or perhaps paranoid, that my floo was being monitored. Not by the ministry as Albus would never have allowed that for someone in my position – the connection he put in for me was almost assuredly illegal – but rather that it was monitored by Albus himself. If I were to take two people through and back with the floo then it would be incredibly obvious that I was telling Harry about magic and more. I also couldn't catch the Knight Bus from Little Whinging as a new family of muggleborns in the area would be interesting. It was nearly an hour and a half to get into London without magical assistance and that was definitely not something I wanted to put an anxious Harry through. Luckily, Clinkscale had already thought of a clever plan to get us both to the alleys without a worry.

The Knight Bus is famous as a transportation method for the stranded witch or wizard. It magically finds them to pick them up and then it magically moves with an impossible speed to get them to where they need to be. All while moving in, around, and sometimes straight through the muggles and their own transportation methods. There are, however, car services available to those who would prefer this method of transportation over the more common floo or apparition. Because these vehicles do not require multiple pick ups one simply tells the enchanted vehicle their destination and it drives itself. After the passengers had disembarked and said the correct pass phrase, the vehicle would "park" itself until called back. When one was done with whatever errand and wanted the vehicle back they used the small enchanted box the vehicle was parked in to recall the vehicle to them.

The downside of these vehicles, called Princely Carriages from a company of the same name, is that they are shockingly expensive. Even just to rent one would be ridiculous. They did not have day to day rentals, instead one could rent one for a week or a month only and the order for that time would need to be put in fairly far in advance. The weekly rental amount was 12 Galleons or £60 and the monthly amount was 114 Galleons or £570. It took a blink of a second for me to remember about inflation. There were still things that I did or thought that did not fit in with this time period. If my younger future self was looking to hire a car for that amount of time these prices would be excellent, but the reality was that everything in this time period needed to be multiplied by a factor of four to get near the inflated prices of the future. That meant it was at least twice the amount to hire a Princely Carriage as opposed to a regular car in the future. When Clinkscale mentioned the price of buying one my eyes nearly burst from my head. For a quarter of a million galleons Harry and I could have safe, untraceable, reliable transport with built in security. It was a huge expense.

We talked about it for a long time. What eventually won me over was the plans for Harry's education. There was no way that he was going to continue his education in Little Whinging and he had a great deal to learn about the magical world. It would be best to spread out the places where he would receive such education to limit the possibility of anyone tracing him back and causing him harm. It would also be a way that Harry could escape a bad situation by himself if ever I was incapacitated or fending off some difficulty. Harry would be able to call the carriage to himself and direct it towards a safe house.

Clinkscale was able to quickly acquire a standard Princely Carriage for us and I had been testing it out for a few days since then. It really was an ingenious piece of magic. Or should I say pieces of magic? There were so many layers of magic upon magic for this that I was in awe of it. When it was initially handed over to me I was given a black lacquered box no longer than the size of my thumb and perhaps four centimeters or so deep. It was inside the box that the carriage was stored. The first time activating it was different than the simple recall as the magics would need to be established with the new owner. Once that was done, a full size vehicle was in front of me. It certainly looked like an impressive muggle car with a few details to hint at luxury. There was even an illusion of an elderly man in uniform, complete with cap, at the wheel.

Being shown around the carriage by the sales wix was an experience.

"Princely Carriages have the speed and ability that matches or rivals that of the Knight Bus. There are swerve and safety features to interact or avoid on muggle roadways. Light muggle repellent features are added into the muggle based illusion of the vehicle. Which can change colors, should you wish. The interior is heavily charmed to ensure passenger comfort and safety during their journey. With excessive amounts of space for people and parcels, the Princely Carriage can fit 13 fully grown adults and their packages. The carriage can be divided into 3 different compartments to allow for privacy, perhaps if the lady wishes to change for dinner after a long day out. The self parking feature that shrinks the vehicle and puts it into the recall box while you enjoy your day out is standard on every Princely Carriage. Just use the recall feature to bring your Princely Carriage back out for your next adventure. Useable by all magical beings and children."

Clinkscale had informed me that the beings that usually hired or bought these types of vehicles from companies like Princely Carriages were chiefly those that traveled a great deal. They would take the miniature parked vehicles in their storage boxes with them to various countries around the world. The magic of the muggle illusions would then adjust to local customs and laws for their vehicles and roadways. If we were to take it to someplace like America, for instance, then the driver and steering wheel would be on the other side and some details of the make and model of the car would appear different. The magic was also alert to any requirements by magical law in each country for such vehicles. Apparently, several magical nations required a license to use something like the Princely Carriage and a fee would usually need to be paid. As soon as the Carriage was used the license would appear in the space where the glove compartment should be and the fee would be transferred from the linked Gringotts account. All without divulging the owner or user of the magical vehicle.

It made sense to me. Though I would never be able to apparate, I did understand the basics of it. One had to be able to picture their destination and if the person had never been to that destination before it made it much more difficult to apparate to it. That is one of the reasons apparition points were made available in busy areas. A never changing place that was safe to pop in and out of with a limited possibility of apparating into the middle of something.

There was a way to apparate based off of geographic coordinates. This was a grid system laid out and rarely updated that, to my knowledge, covered most of Europe and Asia. But the people that did train for apparating based off coordinates were law enforcement as often the public at large found it too difficult or bothersome to learn. The Princely Carriage would allow a magical family to travel all over simply by using what amounted to GPS coordinates and not have to worry about apparating to unknown places or trying to find a public floo nearby.

With a vehicle ready and a letter to Petunia finalized, Harry and I would have to walk a short distance in a randomly chosen direction before recalling the Carriage. I whole heartedly did not want Harry to ever have to put on the clothes the Dursleys had loaned him ever again. Even if it meant he looked better than he should on our walks, I did not want him to ever feel like he did when he was only allowed to borrow the worst of his cousin's castoffs. Nothing he had before was truly given to him, the Dursleys had repeatedly drilled that into him since he had arrived. He was allowed to borrow what was unwanted, but even that was not his to have. It was unacceptable, even to keep up with our cover. Instead I had bought Harry an overly large woolen pea coat in a deep blue and a matching cap. Underneath this he could wear whatever he wanted of the clothes I had already purchased him and later we would get more clothing that he could pick out on his own. For myself, however, I put on my old cat lady persona and had a change in my shopping bag.

Once we had gotten far enough in a direction that Harry had chosen, I recalled the Carriage in a hard to see place. The muggle repellent and illusion charms helped people think that the car had always been there and to not worry about it, but it was always appropriate to take precautions. Especially when one was charged with the care and safety of a child. Harry thought the Carriage was an absolute delight. Though he had seen a few bits of magic in my home he had never seen something as magical as this yet. It was a wonderful thing to see such innocent joy on his face. To hear his giggles as he got into the vehicle, when he realized it was a great deal bigger on the inside, made my heart feel a little lighter.

By the time the Carriage pulled up to the drop off point near the Flourish and Blotts muggle entrance, about thirty minutes later, we were disguised as a young muggleborn woman and her son on a day outing. It's easy enough to pick up on who is who in the small community of Magical Britain. Even if you don't know all the names of everyone's cousins, you can certainly tell who has grown up in the magical world, who has grown up in the muggle world, and who has known elements of both. Using elements of both muggle and magical fashion as an adult makes it obvious you did not grow up in the magical world. Which is what I was doing on this trip, it was the best sort of disguise, a few words and gestures here and there would cement the idea that I was a muggleborn for anyone who passed us.

While I had initially thought that Harry's joy and enthusiasm for the magic of Diagon Alley would be a triumph for both of us, it was actually the fact that he allowed me to hold his hand the entire way to Gringotts. He was in awe of the casual magic and the ambience of the alleys, but he leaned into me and his little hand grasped mine as we walked along. It took everything I had to maintain the facade of a woman who walked with him like this a thousand times before and not to tear up at the feel of tiny fingers and little gasps of amazement. It wasn't until we reached the stairs of the bank that I realized why Harry might be so at ease with me to not only allow physical contact, but to also take comfort from me during this little trip.

To him I was the hero of the story. To him I was the person who saved him from the Dursleys and showed him the wonders of magic. I breathed roughly for a few seconds at the top of the stairs. It was such a big responsibility. Such a big role to be the hero. His hero.

I admit I almost let myself panic in that moment. But I looked down at Harry as we crossed the lobby, his disguise a mop of curly brown hair and dark brown eyes that were watching everything around him, and I knew that I could help him. Hadn't that been the point all along? To save as many as possible? To help Harry as much as possible? To stop two Dark Lords from destroying a single society?

I suppose now it felt real. It felt like I was really, truly doing this. As though my anger, my worries, my being reborn, had kept me from feeling how monumental this task I had set myself truly was. Here, in the magically hushed lobby of Gringotts Bank, about a month after I had been born, I realized that I was going to be the god damned hero even if Albus Dumbledore himself tried to fight me on it.

All because of tiny fingers in my hand.

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

26 January 1985

The entire bank was on high alert. A major account holder, last of his name, who was hunted by his own people would be arriving today. We could not do anything that might alert the humans to the importance of the day as it would cause even further safety issues. There were spies everywhere for Albus Dumbledore as well as the Death Eaters that remained loyal to the ways of Voldemort.

I knew the moment the last of the Potter line stepped over the gilded emblem of the bank.

After weeks of learning the horrors a child under my management had been through, he would finally be welcomed by my clan into the halls of the Nation. We had readied a special room for him within the healing caverns, one that is used by the human children of the clans. He would be received there as family, as kin of my kin. Though I could not make it true as once we did due to the agreements made with the human governments, it would not stop me and others from treating him in that manner. Earlier this week Madam Figg and I had discussed how I could extend this protection to the young Potter, how he would benefit from being kin of my kin. It was an easy decision all around. In terms that she and the young child could understand, I was effectively a godfather to him.

Master Wardsmith Rayner was waiting in the caverns with much the same mindset as I found myself. This child had been dipped in a river of wild magic after a horribly traumatic event brought about by a human who presented himself as the true leader of the old ways of his people and the manipulations of a human who presented himself as kindness and light. The songs that raged through me as I danced amongst the stones of old could have brought low empires in the days of my ancestors so strong was the pain of this knowledge. To be forced to safe keep his own abusers with a magical burden nearly all adult humans could not shoulder was an outrage of decency. The amount of betrayal this child had experienced already, most adults would never know.

I had spent most of the day before in solemn meditation to prepare. I was not certain I could keep such strong emotions to myself if I was not proactive about them, a heavy stone a raging star. There was much to feel, but too much to do. As it was, when the young Potter was shown into my office with his guardian, my voice was as rough as new cut stone, sharp and coarse.

"Welcome, Mr Potter. I have been waiting some time to greet you personally. I am Master Clinkscale of the Goblin Nation."

The shy child tried for a smile, but was more of a grimace as he swayed bodily towards Madam Figg. She stayed him with a hand to his back and it was obvious that the child enjoyed her company and trusted her. The response made me glad that I too had trusted this woman.

"I think Harry is just a little overwhelmed already." She gently motioned the young Mr Potter to one of the chairs opposite my desk and we all sat.

"Do not worry Mr Potter. All of the Nation wishes to assist in keeping you safe and healthy," unfortunately this only seemed to make the child more shy. I cleared my throat and directed my comments to Madam Figg instead, "We will need to do the confirmation test before we move on to the rest of the visit. I know that you wanted a family tree made for Mr Potter, would you like to do that at the same time?"

The child had looked curious at the mention of a family tree, perhaps it was meant to be a surprise? No matter, what's done is done.

"Yes, let's do that at the same time." As she turned to quietly speak to Mr Potter about what would be needed for this I carefully tapped out a message to have the awaiting Masters come in for the task.

All children are frightened of the letting ceremonies. It is a good fear for the young. Fear tells them they should not do something that causes them pain, that causes them to bleed. It is an instinct that the young should have while they are small and too weak to protect themselves. That is what an adult is meant to do, to protect the young and weak. What I think most of us had not counted on was just how intense that fear might become with a child like Mr Potter. He looked as though he might faint from panic as he brought the ceremonial blade to his hand and sliced.

Madam Figg was whispering soothing words to the child as he placed his bloodied hand on the stone, her hand making small circles on his back to comfort him. As the stone pulled blood and magic from Mr Potter for the confirmation of his identity and the creation of a tree, he began to bodily shake. Though it had in reality only been moments, it felt to all that the length of time had stretched before the Masters declared enough had been let.

With his hand being magically healed and his fears being soothed by Madam Figg, I directed the Masters to their tasks. We were immediately able to confirm that the child was one Harry James Potter. The tree that Madam Figg had wanted made for the young one would take almost twelve days to be fully complete with all of the supplemental enchantments she requested. I was sure it would be a great work of art that the Master would complete, such was the feeling the Nation had grown for this child since understanding his circumstances.

He appeared to be calmer now, asking Madam Figg questions about the tree, and I believed it safe to speak without the worry of startling him. "If you would like Mr Potter, I too have stories of the generations before you. My clan has held the honor of the Potter accounts for centuries. I myself have held my position as the Manager of Estates and took up the role as Master of the Potter accounts when your grandfather Fleamont Potter was just beginning to create another boon for the accounts. He was a young man making his way in the world with a talent in potions."

Finally a true smile came for the child. He was happy and astounded at hearing of his kin. A good sign, I thought as I rose from my chair. It was time for him to be shown to the healing caverns. Leading them from my office to the carts I felt the need to strengthen my hold on my emotions. There was no doubt that this child would require a great deal of healing, I had to be able to stand strong against the waves that would crash against me.

The juvenile healing caverns were wide and tall, lit by a thousand star crystals embedded into the stone. The area I led Mr Potter to was set with appropriately sized furnishings to make our young feel more comfortable. Master Healer Erlast was already awaiting us with her assistants and a calm demeanor. She had served as a Master Healer with a juvenile specialty for the betterment of the Nation for a hundred years. Her temperament was as strong and cool as silver, those who were charged within her care had no fear of such a kind being.

Master Rayner was here as well, with two of her own assistants, after having taken a crash course in juvenile medicines. For Master Rayner dealing with a living wardstone was a new and difficult task that she seemed to revel in. Unfortunately, the reveling was not appropriate and needed to be reined in by the tempering of Master Erlast. I was confident that the plans the four of us had laid out and approved would work well while causing the least amount of stress to the young Mr Potter as possible.

"Harry," said Madam Figg, "This is Master Healer Erlast, she is in charge of caring for the health of all the children. And this is Master Wardsmith Rayner, she is in charge of the teams looking at the magic around your protections so we can understand it better."

It had been a quiet conversation one evening between just myself and Madam Figg, where we spoke on the importance of titles and the differences between those of the world she was familiar with and that of the Goblin Nation. While Madam Figg had explained the importance of address in both the Magical and Muggle sides of Britain, I had taken the time to introduce her to the significance of titles within the Nation. To her understanding Master Rayner had just been the head of a department, a leader of cursebreakers, instead of a leader within the Nation. To be Master of something was a very different thing to the humans outside the clans. Though we discussed the various rankings and titles for forms of address outside the Nation, she did think my opinion on the hereditary titles vis-à-vis the Wizengamot members was rather humorous. I was heartened to see her apply the knowledge from that conversation as she introduced the Masters to her charge.

Though Mr Potter had calmed a great deal since using the bloodstone, he became nervous once more. Wide eyes took in the crystals lighting the area and the assortment of beings waiting to tend to him as he crowded into Madam Figg's skirts. For a moment I worried that the child would start to have a panic attack, but Master Erlast had things well in hand.

"Mr Potter, nothing that we do today will hurt you in the slightest. We will take some measurements and a thorough history. Then we will look more closely at your scar. I am worried that there might be some residue of a curse there, but Master Rayner believes that it might be a source of protective magics." She reached out an old and gnarled hand to the child and motioned him to the bed, Madam Figg trailing right behind. "These are my assistants Garlock, Eggit, and Filnar. They are going to help get as much history as possible. We know that you have already been through a great deal in your young life and we don't want to overlook anything."

She gave him a kindly smile and her assistants arranged themselves around her with their tools. Special stone slabs standing off to the side would act as a living record of their findings that could be accessed later to go over in detail. Small gems were held in ornate spheres that began to hover in the hands of the three assistants. These power gems would help in the direction of healing magics. For this first visit, however, all they would do was direct the recording of an extremely thorough history.

Master Rayner and her two assistants stood outside the circle the healers had made around the bed so they wouldn't be disruptive in the hours it might take to collect all of the data. They would be watchful for any interference that the scar caused in the casting, though, as the current theory for both Masters was that there would be some kind of magic embedded in it. They disagreed about what kind, but they were both taking acceptable precautions.

I stepped towards the back wall to be out of the way myself, but still able to observe the proceedings. Mr Potter looked confused the first few minutes, stiff and uncomfortable in the bed he was lying in, even though his guardian was near him. It was unfortunate that they could not have physical contact as he had shown already to be very responsive to such a thing. After about twenty minutes of nothing more happening than some light coming from the powered jewels, the child began to relax. Madam Figg encouraged him to sleep, it was going to be a long day, there was no need to stay awake during the examination.

I'm not sure if Mr Potter did fall asleep or if, after nearly an hour in the examination bed, he finally relaxed enough to seem asleep. I was not worried that an hour had passed, we had assumed it would take at least two hours given the damage done by his relatives and the trauma done by the one calling himself Lord Voldemort. When we reached the three hour mark, however, I was concerned. At hour four, with sweat beginning to bead across the faces of the healers, I admitted to myself that I was worried. When the fifth hour started Master Rayner, Madam Figg, and myself began exchanging apprehensive glances.

We had planned for many eventualities, but this had not been one of them. We had in place at least five different instances in which it would be acceptable for the examination to be interrupted, as well as the specific ways in which to do so. But there had never been a thought given to what should be done if the examination lasted so long.

Though I am not overly familiar with such matters, I do know that the longest healing examination ever done by a goblin healer was after a large battle. The healer had tried to do an examination on a group of warriors at the same time. It had lasted for ten hours.

The healer, the histories tell, had been one of the last left alive and had hoped to examine and heal all of the wounded at one time. Instead most of them had begun to die during the examination, which in turn led to the examination taking longer. Each death was recorded as a new injury and each cause had to be examined for it every time one of the wounded patients died. Causing a never ending cycle as the magics tried to record every new thing as it happened. It is told as a cautionary tale.

Cautiously, at the sixth hour, I made my way around the edges of the room. I did not want to interfere unjustly, I wanted to be able to look into the face of Master Erlast. When I finally could face the Master, I saw the stress on their face and the hair matted to the sides of their head with sweat. As I observed, her eyes opened to look at mine and a wordless and brief discussion was held between us. She would hold the examination as long as she could.

A rough intake of breath from the bed drew the attention of everyone in the silent room. The child had fallen asleep at some point and was in the beginnings of an unkind dream. Madam Figg crouched low to whisper loving things to him and he relaxed again. It felt like the whole room breathed in and relaxed with him. Another look at Master Erlast confirmed she was certain about maintaining the examination and I circled back to my place to wait out the collection of what must be a truly immense amount of information.

After eight hours and thirty seven minutes, the light in the gems extinguished and the examination was completed. Master Rayner and myself tended to the healers, helping to steady them after such a long time being strong against the waves. Word traveled outside the room and another healer came to check on them, pronouncing them tired but strong.

Master Rayner and I gathered around Master Erlast. Madam Figg reluctant to leave Mr Potter gave a look of worry our way. I did not wish to push the Master but such an extended time spent on an examination for a battle hardened adult was unheard of, for a child not yet of five years? It was absurd.

"Master Erlast, can you give us any indication of why it took such a great length of time?"

"I could Master Clinkscale, but I'm not sure if any of us would truly believe it without further analyzing the collected data." She sighed and shook her head before taking another sip of her drink, probably dosed with a fortification potion.

"Master Erlast, surly you can give some indication or theory? Was it due to the scar?"

"I know that you believe that the protections might be anchored in the scar Master Rayner, but I am unsure. I am unsure of everything at this point. There should never have been so much data for a single being, especially not a juvenile. It was as though I was pulling decades of information, decades during which a great deal had harmed the health of the patient. I don't know how to explain it with the limited information that consciously passes through me before reaching the slabs."

"That does change things," the Master Wardsmith stated, "There are too many variables with such intense sacrificial magics. Is it possible that you were examining both the scion Potter and his mother? Or perhaps him and both parents?"

I had not believed such a thing was possible, but it seemed that what was possible simply bent itself around the young Mr Potter. The Master Healer was giving it some thought before answering so I looked over to Madam Figg to give her an encouraging nod.

"It is an interesting theory. But I know a little about the lives of the senior Potters, they would not have suffered so much. If it is a secondary individual that is getting caught in the healing magics, then they suffered. They suffered greatly. Deep gouging dark magics."

I swallowed sharply.

"Masters," I said in a harsh whisper, "There were four people in the Potter Cottage. Three Potters and their attacker."

A heavy stone fell between the three of us, a thick frame that seemed to slow time as our minds worked over the horror of such a mutilated aberration leaving something profound enough on our child that it showed in a healing examination. In a single turn all three of us slowly looked towards the child still sleeping on the bed, his guardian tight in her posture as she awaited answers by his side. If she felt our eyes on them she did not look up from her vigil.

"Master Rayner, with this new information should we wait to have you cast your own analysis on Mr Potter?"

"No, actually," she answered, "If anything we should make sure to do it now. Master Erlast and I will need to do a great deal of comparisons."

I nodded as she gathered her assistants to her for a whispered conversation. Though we had not planned to go so long today, it would be better to get it all done when the child was in a rather contented state. I walked over to them to inform Madam Figg of our next move.

"Madam Figg," I said softly enough not to wake the child. She didn't look up from him but nodded an acknowledgment. I can't imagine how difficult this day has already been for her. "The Master Healer says she collected a great deal more information than should be expected of a juvenile, but cannot give a good theory as to why until she analyzes the collected data. Master Rayner would like to go forward with the approved plan, though it is much later than we had intended."

"That's fine. He's sleeping well. The move and everything has been hard on him. So much to be anxious about, so much to be excited over. He needed this sleep."

I hummed an agreement with her before moving back into my place, watching the proceedings out of the way. Unlike with the healers, the Master Wardsmith and her assistants took exactly two hours to complete their tasks. There were many brilliant displays of light as the possibilities danced over Mr Potter. Some even I could tell must be protective magics, a deep feeling within me warming as they were brought out and made obvious. But there was a time that they brought up a sickly magic and that deep place within shrunk back on instinct, not of fear but of disgust. Something was so wrong with this magic that they had brought forth, making it visible to the room, something that every instinct cried out to move away from the wrongness of it.

When I had a measure of control over this intense disgust I looked towards the chui that was still peacefully sleeping on his bed and his tense guardian. She had looked towards the magic as well, but instead of the disgust I felt she seemed both sad and resolved. Almost as though she had expected something awful to be attached to the scar though she had only commented previously that there were too many possibilities and not enough facts.

After Master Rayner and her assistants had finished collecting their data, the Master looked grim faced and pale. She nodded to me as she left to begin her analysis, Master Erlast and her assistants moving with them.

"Madam Figg? Do you need a few moments?"

"I'm weary Master Clinkscale," she sighed as she looked up towards me. "I may not understand all the data gathered today, but I know enough to be more concerned than I was before." She smiled ruefully before standing. "I think Harry and I will have to put off our other chores and visit the alleys another time."

"That's understandable. There is also so much information for the Masters to review that we will be unable to give you an idea on the type of healing regimen young Mr Potter should be on until it is more thoroughly scrutinized. Perhaps come back tomorrow and I will see if I can have an update for you at the least."

"Thank you Master Clinkscale."

Alone in my office after the pair had left Gringotts and the alert had gone down, I felt markedly empty. There was no closure. There was nothing done. There was no help that could be offered this day. It didn't feel like failure. It felt like bone jarring sadness, a cold emptiness.

As though I had witnessed something that was never meant to happen.

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

27 January 1985

The visit to Gringotts had been an intense day for everyone involved. I had thought I was prepared, but I suppose you can really only prepare so much for the unknown.

Watching as the Master Healer held the weight of the examination was stressful. I wanted to stop it and confess to knowing about the horcrux. I wanted to reveal all my secrets just to put an end to it. A ridiculous feeling, given the reality of the situation. Knowing that Harry had a horcrux would only raise suspicions. Knowing that such a thing existed and that Voldemort might have used them? That would fit in with other theories and knowledge I had already displayed as a spy for Albus Dumbledore. I just needed to wait for them to recognize what was happening.

When the three Masters were speaking to each other after the examination, I had to stay with Harry. I couldn't even look up. I would have completely given everything away if I had caught their eye. Instead I focused all my attention on Harry and making sure he continued to have sweet dreams. He must not have slept at all since arriving at my home.

The work that the Master Wardsmith did with her magic was even more obvious than the never ending examination. The darkness of Voldemort's magic an infection that had hovered over the little boy. At least, I had thought, this would mean they could figure out how the horcrux was affecting Harry.

I was not tired as in a need for sleep by the end of our time at Gringotts. Rather, I felt that my tiredness was soul deep. Harry seemed to be exhausted as well, though perhaps more physically. I had never tried to carry a sleeping four year old anywhere though and that was an adventure.

We had been driven by our Carriage to a small alley a block or so from my home and he had been mostly asleep for the thirty minute ride. It took several minutes to get him awake enough to walk to the house and when we arrived I was basically carrying his weight. It reminded me of the night I had found him trapped outside the Dursley's home, freezing to death in the snow. At least this time it was not because he had been harmed.

I had been a bit driven and emotional over the past month as I tried to manipulate things in order to save him. When he and I finally made it into Gringotts together, I crashed into the reality of it all. I couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like for him to have that feeling as well. To finally be able to relax in a protected space and allow himself to feel the reality of what was happening. No wonder the small boy was exhausted.

"So Harry," I started while buttering some of my toast, "what did you think of Diagon Alley and Gringotts?" It was nearly ten in the morning, we were finally awake and eating a light meal at my kitchen table.

"It was good. I liked Mr Clinkscale, he seems nice. We were there for a real long time though."

"Yes, we weren't supposed to be there that long. We will have to go back this afternoon to do our shopping and get the medicines they will want to prescribe you."

We had talked about how Harry would most likely need to join me in my regimen of potions and physical exercise. I had explained to him that I hadn't taken very good care of myself after my wife had died in the war and I wanted to do better. He had been so solemn as he nodded along, sad for my loss and understanding that I wanted him to be better with me.

There had also been the much lighter discussion of our own holiday that we would enjoy while the Dursley family was away. I had tried to let him pick the place to go but that was apparently too much for him. Instead I had stopped by a magical travel agency while in disguise and picked up various brochures and guidebooks for magical holidays around the world. I wanted his first ever holiday to make a big impression on him as well as mark a big change in his life. It would have to be perfect.

While there were plenty of hotels and various homes for rent, what caught my eye was a traveling tour of various campgrounds around unique muggle and magical destinations. With a few stops picked out for exploration over a couple weeks in February, Harry and I focused on making a list of the things we would need. We had planned to make several stops after we spent maybe three hours at Gringotts for the exam and testing. Instead we spent over ten and a half hours in the healing rooms.

I was hopeful that the meeting wouldn't be too long, but had decided spur of the moment that we should look over tents and trunks before going to the meeting. If they were able to complete our order in a few hours then the time wouldn't be wasted since we would be in Gringotts. I also wanted to see about getting him several wizard appropriate outfits for when he was in his tutoring for magical subjects. He would need them if he was to be disguised as several different half blood children. Besides this and a few other stops I was very interested in checking out something the travel agency had suggested. There was apparently a school for languages, though as the witch explained it Euro-Glyph School of Extraordinary Languages was really more of a shop that sold languages.

As we walked into Carkitt Market hand in hand, Harry's smile became wider and brighter. I hoped to keep that smile going as much as possible. It wasn't a far walk to Stowe and Packers, around the corner and up a flight of stairs, but I wasn't sure if it was the best place to find what we would want. It did seem like a good place to start, however, and then branch out from there.

A young freckle faced woman, looking fresh out of Hogwarts, was leaning on the counter reading through a glossy magazine when the tinkle of the bell alerted her to customers.

"Welcome to Stowe & Packers Magical Bags," she said with a smile, "is there anything you are looking for in particular?"

Today Harry and I were wearing matching strawberry blonde hair and an extremely pale complexion. Hopefully we matched enough to look closely related to those who noticed us. We had decided on characters of an older aunt who was a squib and her young orphaned nephew who was able to use active magic. This would allow us to ask questions and look confused while seeming to belong.

"Yes, my nephew and I are planning a trip. I wasn't sure if a trunk or a tent would be better. I definitely want something to invest in so that we could take trips like this more often as he gets older."

I ruffled Harry's reddish locks and we smiled at each other before turning back to the sales witch who had been nodding along.

"It really depends on where you are going and what you want to be doing for whether a trunk is better than a tent. Most of the magical spaces and enchanted enhancements are possible in either type. In fact you could even get something as slim as a briefcase or as soft and portable as a rucksack and still have plenty of space and features."

"I do like the idea of a rucksack, I didn't know that was even a possibility. But what about security? I know that the tents and trunks can have a great deal of security added to them."

"Of course all of our designs meant for habitable accommodations have various security and protections that come standard as well as the possibility to add additional features. Why don't I show you what we have in stock right now? You can also order from our catalog and add unique or personal features for an additional price."

As she led us back she introduced herself as Marina a great niece of Mr Stowe, she had graduated from Hogwarts just two years ago and was learning the family business. Harry was delighted to hear about Hogwarts and learn about the Hufflepuff house.

"This is a two bedroom cottage design that is fairly popular," Marina said as she lifted an olive colored canvas bag from the shelf. "The rucksack comes with the standard protections against the elements as well as what we call magical misfires, when a stray spell might hit the bag. These features also offer the owner the ability to activate whether or not the bag is stationary when another living sentient being is inside. The magic picking up on the difference between say a kneazle and a little boy," she gave Harry a smile. "You just set the bag on the ground like this and flip the top open like so."

As she lifted the top, folding it back and out of the way, the opening of the bag seemed to grow much wider. Harry was practically laughing at how wonderful it was already, I was excited for him to see something else with space enchantments on it. He did so love how the Carriage was bigger on the inside.

"Before we go inside I need to make sure that it will be safe."

The young woman shook her head while she smiled, "Don't worry nothing in here will be able to get away from him while we look around."

I closed my eyes for a moment with a pinched look on my face before clicking my tongue and looking back at the befuddled girl. "I'm a squib, my sister and her husband were able to use magic. But they died in the war." Poor Marina was already pale when she lost the little color she had as I spoke. "Magical homes can be anywhere from difficult to dangerous for a squib since the home might respond to them differently. Are there things in this popular cottage design that only respond to the use of magic? Or even how you opened the bag, does that require magic to do?"

"Oh– Uh, well– The um–," she was struggling, but I was determined to let her sort herself out. She had seemed happy to be learning the family business and that business would mean interacting with people like me. If I could help her learn before someone more sensitive came along, all the better. "The kitchens definitely require the use of a wand in the cottage design, but not all of them do that. The rucksacks and the umbrella tents do require a push of magic to get them set up, but most of the other tents and almost all of the trunks do not require that. Are you busy later this afternoon? Say in two hours?"

"We have a few others stops to make before a meeting at Gringotts. I'm not sure how long that might take. Why?"

"Well," she took a deep steadying breath, "my uncle is coming in later and I could discuss with him your specific needs. I apologize, but I haven't thought of looking into those types of requirements or issues before and I would want you to have the best product for you."

I might have raised an eyebrow at that, but I agreed that we would come back before the end of the day and meet with Mr Stowe. It was better, after all, to meet with someone who had a great deal of experience in the profession. I smiled at Harry as we made our way out of the shop, but he seemed a little disheartened.

"It's okay Harry, we just have to remember that not everyone is thinking about the needs of people who aren't like themself. This was a great teaching moment for that young woman," I squeezed his hand as we reached the bottom step. "She's learning how to talk to and help people like me that can't use magic the same way as her. We'll still get a good place for our trip, we will just be doing it later today instead. Okay?"

He seemed mollified by that and we walked down towards the next shop on our list. I didn't want to spend a lot of time at the School of Extraordinary Languages, I just wanted to better understand their gimmick. How exactly does one sell languages?

The building that housed the school, or was it a shop, was split with a small café on the ground floor and the language school on the first level. The stairs and walls up to the first level had been painted with words from dozens of different languages appearing to meld and blend into one another. When Harry touched one of the words we both startled at the sound of the word being spoken from the wall. We were laughing by the time we reached the entrance, having touched more than a few words on purpose on our way up.

Inside was a small, bare reception area and a large wooden counter, behind it was a bored looking teenager looking up at us. Stifling my laughter and smoothing my skirt, I walked up to him with little Harry trailing behind me.

"Welcome to the Euro-Glyph School of Extraordinary Languages a place to meet all your extraordinary needs," the spotty teen said in a bored monotone. "We specialize in the learning of languages and currently have over 200 languages of varying dialects that you can learn before the week is up. Would you like to see our catalog?"

I almost started laughing again. This poor kid was so bored and had obviously been repeatedly drilled in that statement to the point that it had become something he might hear in his nightmares. But I was interested in the catalog so I answered in the affirmative and started to take a look.

In addition to the most widely spoken languages of the day they also offered so-called dead languages like Latin or Ancient Egyptian, various types of old Germanic and Scandinavian languages, all things that would help with runes and other magics. They also offered magical languages like Mermish and Gobbledegook. The prices were different based on the categories they had the languages under, though the categories didn't make much sense. Perhaps it was just based on popularity? It hardly mattered, the prices for every category was outrageous, the lowest being 85 G.

"Excuse me, but what are the classes like? There's really no explanation about this process."

"That would be because it is a secret and patented process," he said in his bored nasally tone, not bothering to look up from his paper. "One can learn up to four languages from the same category at one time in three days. If you choose you can purchase an entire category for a discounted price and spread out the time that you learn over the course of year from date of purchase," he finally looked up at me, "Please be sure to read the warnings and side effects located on the last page of the catalog before purchase. Using magic during the three days that you are learning your new language or languages can cause the lessons to be void. Euro-Glyph School of Extraordinary Languages is not responsible should such a thing occur and no refunds will be issued."

"Right." He had said all of that with a bored and emotionless tone that put me on edge. "What if one can't do magic?"

He blinked and looked back up at me, finally showing some emotion, "What? The little one?" he pointed over to Harry. "As long as he doesn't do any accidental magic it should be fine. No one's had their kid learn these so young, though there's no reason you can't do it."

"That's a good idea, certainly would give him a leg up once he gets to Hogwarts. But I was thinking about me, I'm a squib."

"Oh, then you'll be fine. It's wand levels of magic that cause the disruption," he said waving his hand to brush away the concern. "Sometimes the kids they get upset enough and their accidental magic can get that high, but not squibs. And this would work for muggles too, just not quite as well."

I was pleasantly surprised by his warm and informed answer. Not only had this company made sure whatever their patented method was would work on various people, this young man seemed to understand the specific differences and how that would affect things.

"So if I wanted to make a potion during those three days it would not be enough magic to cause this disruption?"

"That's right. But if someone did so much as a Lumos it would cause issues and the whole thing would just," he made a falling motion with his hands. "That's why people get so few languages, but also why they try and do 'em all at once. Better to have three days of no magic than twelve days. Some people don't want to risk that though, think they might mess up and use magic, so they only do one cause of the cost, ya see?"

I did see. It would be an interesting conundrum for the average adult witch or wizard. Some magical enchantment or highly specialized potion to grant them language abilities that would fail if they did common tasks that I would never be able to perform. Do you bunker down for three days and do a large number all at once? Or do you just do one and try and go about those days as carefully as possible?

"Well we are going on a trip soon and I would like to know at least a few of these languages fluently. Do I need to make an appointment?"

"Nope, just come in during normal business hours and we'll get you set up in a room in the back. Only the customer is permitted back there though," he gave a pointed look to Harry.

"I'm sure that will be fine. Does it take very long?"

"Nope, most people stay longer cause they are a bit green around the gills. I wouldn't eat before you come in."

"Okay. Thank you so much. I'm going to look over this and decide on the languages. I'll be back by the end of the week, I'm sure."

"No problem and have a nice day. Thank you for visiting the Euro-Glyph School of Extraordinary Languages."

As we slowly went down the stairs, I encouraged Harry to try and press as many different languages on the walls as he could reach. It was the equivalent of letting a child press every button on every electronic toy in a store, but it made him smile and didn't hurt anything. We turned towards Horizant Alley and he took my hand again, bringing me a warm smile of my own.

While many were familiar with Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions as it was the only store that was given the Hogwarts approval for making the school's uniforms, there were many other clothing stores available in the magical district of London. Twilfitt and Tattings, for instance, was a place to get elegant pieces handmade including some accessories such as hats and gloves. However, we wanted Harry to have the appearance of a fair to well off half blood for his various tutors to pick up on and so would be going to Darten Hemmaway on Horizant Alley.

This alley was more widely known for having stores that were more modern or, to the less kind, more muggle. For me there was never a reason not to enjoy the advancements made on the muggle side of the divide, it would be ridiculous to see what they had done and not build on it. But I suppose that Magical Britain is rather ridiculous.

A small chime sounded as we walked into the atelier, cheerfully announcing our entrance. There was no one in the front of the shop, though, and we took our time adjusting to the difference.

Unlike so many of the shops on Diagon Alley, this shop was very modern and stylishly appointed. There was a set of seafoam colored sofas and lounges artfully arranged in the center of the room with a decorative glass coffee table between them. The warm coloring of the wood throughout the store enhanced the feeling of comfort. And, upon closer inspection, what had appeared to be never ending tiles coloring the walls was actually a never ending display of fabric swatches. They had been magically stiffened and placed into the walls, no doubt whole bolts could be drawn out from behind each swatch.

"Hello, thank you for waiting," said a slender, dark skinned man nearing thirty. His voice was soft and gentle and exceedingly French in its accent. "I am Darten Hemmaway, welcome to my fashion house. How can I be of help today?"

"Lovely to meet you Mr Hemmaway, I've heard wonderful things. My name is Sarah and this is little Gerrard. I would like to buy my young nephew here a wardrobe more appropriate for the magical world. I think five or six whole outfits would be fine for now. We are going on a trip soon and I would like it if the pieces could be finished before then."

"Oh, that's no problem to do. Maybe a few days at most. Let's talk fabrics…"

After we had chosen several fabrics and styles, Harry had done an admirable job of letting Monsieur Hemmaway measure him. Collecting my receipt, I thought it best to find a place for us to relax before heading to Gringotts. Harry was doing well, but it still seemed to be overwhelming to him and we had more that needed to be done today.

Since we had already had a late breakfast, almost lunch really, I thought a sweet treat was perfectly acceptable and led him back to Diagon Alley for an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. It was a wonderful thing to give this little boy something as simple as an ice cream to make his day even better. It was a sad thing that picking out said ice cream came with so much emotional upheaval on Harry's part.

Since neither Harry or myself had much knowledge or interest in fashion we had let Monsieur Hemmaway make most of the decisions, readily agreeing to his suggestions. But at the ice cream parlor, Harry was incapable of making a decision without constantly seeking approval from me. When he did get the encouragement he was looking for he still seemed worried that I might do him harm. Whether that was to take away what he was being given or cause him physical harm I was unsure. Either way it led to him cringing through his choice at the counter.

I led him towards a booth in the back where we could each enjoy our treats. The weather may not ever get truly awful in the alleys because of the charms and enchantments, but it was certainly too cold to eat ice cream outside the comfort of the shop.

I was aware that in the canon Harry eventually became more and more outspoken even as he dealt with the continued abuse from his relatives. But I was unsure what to do to help him more than just being a steady and loving influence. I had made note of the psychotherapy services that were offered by the Gringotts Offered Services book. Though I hadn't thought that there would be a real reason to use them. He was not even five, even if he could grasp understandings that might be challenging for an eight year old. What would he even say to a psychiatrist?

Not to mention the very ingrained stigma against getting psychological help that the older me had in such a high degree that it was barely being balanced by the knowledge and understandings of the younger future me. Or the fact that the muggle world barely knew how to deal with children and the magical world would be so astonished at child abuse that they would probably have no way to help anyhow. In fact the psychotherapy services offered in the book explicitly stated for British wixen that there were no psychotherapists available within the country and there would be an additional fee to arrange visits with those from outside of the country.

This issue would need to be revisited, for now I would be calm and kind and as patient as I could possibly be. It would do no good to spiral while trying to get this all together in Diagon Alley.

"I was thinking about food," I said as I ate another spoonful of coconut ice cream. Harry looked up from his three scoops in trepidation. "We should have a little cabinet or drawer for you in your room that has healthy snacks and the like. That way you could have it ready and waiting for you whenever you get hungry."

I had actually been thinking on this point quite a lot. I knew that the Dursleys used food as punishment excessively. They made sure that Dudley ate more than was appropriate and that Harry always ate less than was appropriate. They often threatened to not feed him at all if he didn't do his chores to their liking. Of course, they were never going to be to the liking of the Dursleys. That was never the point, it was just an excuse to further their abuse. I knew from my future knowledge that people who had experienced food scarcity would often hoard food. In order to get ahead of this, I believed that making sure Harry had a wide range of healthy food available to him would help.

Harry pushed around the chocolate sauce in his bowl while he worried his lip with his teeth.

"It wouldn't be the only food you could have. We both need to keep our health up with three meals a day and exercise, just like we talked about. But I was thinking if you had your own little stash of drinks and snacks that you liked, it might be nice. What do you think?"

His face pinched in and furrowed in deep concentration. It was absolutely adorable and it took all of my strength not to coo at him like a ridiculous mama bird.

"Would it be a magic cabinet?"

"Yes," I said, laughing a bit. "It can be a magic cabinet if you want it to be. That would be fine."

"That sounds good then."

Our ice cream was sweeter after that and we spoke of many little things that we would want to add to our rooms at the house or the tent we would get later. After a few moments in the little wizards room for Harry to wash up, even the most congenial of children will be sticky after ice cream, we moved on down the alley to a snowy white building that towered over the other shops.

Taking Harry into Gringotts would always be a production. Unlike myself, Harry Potter had a significant amount of wealth and power. His family had been working with the goblins for generations at a higher client level than I would ever be able to reach. I had made a pretty sum during my life selling my unique kneazles, but I'd done better by living in an incredibly frugal manner. Not that much of that sum was left at this point. Harry was the descendent of inventors and titled lords, all of whom seemed to appreciate the goblin's ability to reinvest and double their vault contents.

For Harry, though, I thought it might be more than the money and prestige. Last of his name, I had overheard one of the goblins say. I already knew that they looked towards young children differently, but perhaps being the last of the Potters increased that exponentially. It wasn't just Clinkscale either, the other goblins seemed to see Harry as something more in a way I didn't really know how to identify. They didn't worship him or some nonsense, they just treated him differently. It was at once both subtle and extremely obvious. I didn't mind it, but I also didn't understand it.

Gringotts was on high alert when we stepped into the lobby. Not many would realize the difference. So there are a few more goblins about, a few of them have different weapons, maybe the tellers are a little more sharp with their customers, that's not a big deal.

Harry and I were met by a young guard and led back into the catacombs. When we got off the cart at the healing cavern I gave Harry an encouraging smile.

"Ah, Madam Figg, right on time. The healers are waiting," came the happy voice of Master Clinkscale. Indeed the goblin practically glowed with joy as he led us inside.

It was extremely unsettling. It was definitely not the way someone would act after finding out there was a horcrux wedged into the prefrontal cortex of a four year old child. I kept my thoughts to myself, though, and allowed Master Clinkscale to usher Harry back to the exam bed he had been on just the day before. He handed me a small journal detailing all of the potions that they would be prescribing Harry.

"As long as you are happy with the potions, Madam Figg, the healers would like to administer doses now. There are morning and evening doses, we have a box ready for you that should cover two months worth. At which time the young Mr Potter should return for a followup."

After looking over and approving the various potions, Clinkscale ushered me to a table a bit away from Harry. He would need to take each potion in intervals with resting periods in between to avoid upsetting his stomach, that gave the adults a chance to talk. And as Harry took his potions I found out from the three Masters why everyone looked so happy.

"It seems as though both Master Erlast and Master Rayner were correct in their initial assessments of the young Mr Potter's health. There is definitely dark magic in the scar, but it was also a part of the protections enacted by his mother."

"Oh?" I went for shocked and nervous. Had they not found the horcrux? How could I lead them to it without giving everything away?

"Yes, the protections are strongest at that point. The darkness is being constantly contained and destroyed by the warding on scion Potter."

"If it's being destroyed is that something we need to worry about?" What were they thinking?

"If I may Master Rayner," the healer gestured and continued once the Wardsmith nodded. "We have found what appears to be a soul leech trapped within the protections of the rune on Mr Potter's head. The protections are actively fighting against it, causing it to break down into it's most basic form. Between the two examinations we were able to determine that the wards are killing off the soul leech and draining away its magic. Mr Potter, in turn, is absorbing the magic of the leech."

I did not have to affect a look of shock and concern at this point, but numbly nodded encouragement to continue.

"Scion Potter is basically getting a magical transfusion, just like muggles sometimes get a blood transfusion. Think of the scar itself as a pocket of wizard space. Within this space exists a piece of another's soul. Its foreign magic, magic being anchored by our souls, is also there. The protections are stripping the soul from its magic and the magic is harmlessly drifting through the protections to scion Potter."

If that were true then why wouldn't the protections simply destroy the horcrux in Harry's head? Seventeen years and it wasn't destroyed enough by the wards Lily created to save Harry?

Except that it wouldn't have been seventeen years. It would have been ten. As soon as Harry went to Hogwarts the ambient magic there would have negated the wards' need for wild magic, he would have become more and more vulnerable. Even if it was still chipping away at the horcrux, or the soul leech as they were calling it, then it would have slowed down significantly without the massive additions of natural wild magic. It did, rather neatly, explain how Harry's magic could be affected by the horcrux without his sanity being affected. The magic of parseltongue was simply seeping through the barrier constantly. When the horcrux was gone at the end of the series, the magic was no longer moving through to him.

"Madam Figg, I know that this information is shocking. However, we have already determined a means in which to finish the destruction of the soul leech in a way that would not be harmful to young Mr Potter. It would also encourage, or feed, if you will, the wards that have already been set down for his protection. We spent most of today ensuring that it would be allowed."

"Yes, it has never been tried before and we have had to put in a great number of reports for the request already. But we do believe that it will work to end the existence of the soul leech and bolster the protections. However, I would prefer it if Mr Potter were in better physical condition first. He has a great many physical ailments that need to be addressed and it would be against his best interests to have him undergo such an experience when there is no harm in waiting."

"I agree with Master Erlast," added Rayner with a nod. "It would be better for him to be at peak physical and magical condition to better absorb the wild magics."

"What exactly is the proposal to get rid of this soul leech? Is it what caused the long exam yesterday? Where did it even come from?" I gasped, closed my eyes and put my hand over my heart. "Is it Lilly's soul?"

"No, uh," Master Clinkscale cleared his throat and they all shifted uncomfortably in their chairs while I stared at him with wide hopeful eyes. "We are fairly certain that the soul leech is from Tom Riddle."

Cue dramatic gasping.

I deserved many, many awards for my performance. Thank you very much.

Eventually, though, I let them calm me down.

"When we spoke about ambient and wild magic," began Master Clinkscale, "Do you recall that I said wild magic used to naturally spring and collect from the earth? But that these places had run dry?" I gave a nod in recognition, it had been rather interesting to learn about the goblin way of thinking. "Wild magic can also be created by races such as goblins, dwarves, merpeople and more. Each race creates the magic in different ways, but we all do so with the same intent. Without wild magic being created magic itself would end. Think of it like your rainfall cycle. What would happen if it never rained again?"

While I contemplated the utter destruction of the earth as all our waters evaporated and then never again rained down on us, the others at the table were nodding along.

"Have you never thought about why the Goblin Nation mints and circulates the currency for the magical world?" Master Rayner questioned in a softer, more thoughtful voice than I had heard her use previously.

And, no, I had not thought about it. I knew that races like the dwarves and gnomes had similar purposes to the magical populace, but only the coins minted by the goblins were considered true currency.

"The alloys that the Nation uses are not the same as what humans mine for in their destructive ways from the earth," the older woman continued in a soft reverence. "Instead goblins use ancient rites to sing into existence magic stars. These Goblin Stars then collide against each other in the mines, their reaction accelerated into massive expansions. Goblin Stars create millions of workable elements for the Nation while also giving back magic to the Earth. Unlike the stars in the sky, these Stars do not turn into what the muggles would call a black hole. Instead the final stage of production is the birth of wild magic. In each element created, such as gold or silver, there is also magic. When something is sung from it, coins or swords or jewelry, the magic of the item increases to the point that it too can give off ambient magic. This is very special as all that gives off ambient magic is considered alive. There are only three races now that can create items of such magic that they increase the world's ambient magic."

There was a hush that fell over the table as this hardened witch spoke with grace and admiration about the process. It was not something I had ever known about, or thought to even ask about. It sounded like they were using the energy of a star becoming a black hole to make more magic.

Incredible.

"There was once a time when the humans knew of such things, Madam Figg, but the memory of humans is very short. Things pass into tradition for seemingly no reason and none of those humans appear to question anything they call tradition. For instance, are you aware that any household that has a house elf ties them to their vault in Gringotts?"

I blinked at the question which seemed so far off track, but answered in the affirmative. Even houses that didn't have house elves knew that they should be connected to the family vault, it was just the proper thing to do. Everyone knew that.

They just smiled at me like I was a small, ignorant child.

Perhaps I was.

"Vaults have the coins minted by Gringotts sitting in them not moving. The vaults simply fill up with ambient magical energy. This isn't good in the eyes of the Nation, but for house elves which might need access to a higher level of magic suddenly? They would have a place to go and get their fill of ambient magic. Long before the elves became so subjugated by the wizards, they were given this access to offset any imbalance in the house itself. Perhaps there weren't enough wizards in the family creating ambient energy. Or perhaps they lived in an isolated area without enough access to it or anyone else. Gringotts was a haven for them to have access to the magical energy which keeps them alive and healthy."

"In fact," cut in Master Healer Erlast, "the reason that there are so few elves these days is because they have gotten less and less access to the necessary magics to keep them healthy. Not just that they are dying younger, but that they are unable to reproduce as much as they once did."

"Okay," I said with a wave of my hands, "But what does this have to do with the soul leech and Harry?"

"Those that are within the mines when the songs collide the Goblin Stars are bathed in an extreme amount of wild magics. It is unavoidable, but goblins do not have the same reaction to wild magic inundation as a wixen would. If we have scion Potter properly placed at just the right time the wards will bring into him more wild magic than he could ever have absorbed in the whole of his life– at the rate we saw he did in our tests anyway."

"Wizards can convert wild magics into the ambient magics used for wand work, it will do him no harm to be bathed in it. Since the wards have had him taking in wild magic as much as possible and converting it to ambient magic, he has a greater ability to do this than most humans. The projected side effects are all positive."

"What exactly would those side effects be, Master Healer?"

"Because of his age the most obvious side effect may be a greater ability of the mind. As adults of all races age our bodies and minds begin to break down. As a child he is still making physical connections within his brain, children with greater magic can create more of these connections faster than those with lesser magic. This is the same strength that sees our lifespans lengthened. I would recommend having the tutors you previously spoke of ready for him and perhaps a library. He will quite quickly absorb all of the new information."

"He already seems more mentally capable than most young children. If I wasn't aware of how old he is, I might say he could pass for a child twice his age."

"That might be the wild magic he has been fed for so many years at such a sensitive age. It might also be the abuse and neglect he suffered. It tends to make children seem older because they do not allow themselves to behave as children."

Maybe she was right. My initial thoughts on Harry's behavior were colored by the fact that I believed the horcrux might be affecting him more than it was. Now, with the knowledge that it was actually magic that was influencing his intelligence, I tried to think back on his behavior. I remember even comparing him to Hermione Granger, who still acted like a child even though she was several years more advanced in academic knowledge. But Hermione had come from a loving and supportive home and, as Master Erlast suggested, Harry might behave differently in such a home. If Harry was pushed to even higher achievements in academic intelligence, but had a safe and loving home, who would he become?

"Are we absolutely certain that no part of Tom Riddle is getting through to Harry? No memories? No information?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely. Master Erlast and I are in complete agreement that it is only magical energy that is crossing the barrier."

"Okay, then I would want detailed projections of how you think this will go and I want to be as close to him as possible to be able to ease any worries he might have."

"I'm afraid that last part just is not possible, Madam Figg. Entering the mines is significant, only kin of the clans can enter."

"But then how would Harry be able to enter?"

"As we have made the young Potter kin of my kin, I have been able to claim emergency exceptions for the extremes of his health. The Goblin Nation abhors nothing more than a child abused. That he has been so heedlessly and wantonly caused great injury by a great many parties, we have been able to generate a significant amount of sympathy and assistance for the young orphan. Unfortunately, you will not be able to enter such sensitive areas of the Nation even should he be with you. It is against our ways."

As Master Clinkscale had explained it, a goblin could claim a human as kin of their kin if they were related in someway to any of the humans that had been part of the clans in the way Master Rayner was. It was against the treaties for them to take children and keep them as their own, but kin of their kin was different in subtle ways. Harry was lucky in that one of his ancestors, a many times great grandmother that married into a line that eventually married into what became the Potters, was one of the orphaned children the Goblin Nation had brought into the clans. It was much like a very far removed cousin being granted the title of godparent, from what I understood, and it allowed that human the ability to access the benefits of the Goblin Nation more than any other human could. Including myself, apparently. Without violating any of the agreements that keep goblins from claiming humans as kin.

"I don't know how well that will go Master Clinkscale," I sighed. "By the time Harry is physically healthy for this he may still be suffering from the mental and emotional trauma of it all. He should have someone he knows and trusts with him, to help sooth him. Would you be permitted to enter with him?"

"Uh– well, possibly yes. There are a few factors at play, but it would be more likely that I would be allowed. This is all fairly political Madam Figg. But I would be willing to accompany him if it is something I can sway the council into allowing."

"Good. Then you will have to get to know Harry more as well, so that the two of you are on even better terms by the time he should do this. I still want detailed projections of everything that will, or could, happen. But if you would be willing to comfort him, then that would be alright with me."

After that the conversation wound down, Master Clinkscale gave me a few updates on our projects and Master Healer Erlast went over the regimen she wanted Harry to follow. It was late in the afternoon as Harry and I made our way back to Packer and Stowe to see Mr Stowe about something that would be squib friendly.

Marina, the great niece of Mr Stowe, was at the counter ringing up the purchase of an extremely tall man with a very thin mustache when we entered. She gave us a smile and we looked over some of the displays by the door as she finished up.

"Hello again! I'm so glad that you came back. I spent my break looking over things in our catalog with your needs in mind and I let my uncle know that there would be a customer coming in that would need to see him. I really appreciate your patience."

"Of course, dear. Gerrard and I are just looking forward to having something suitable."

"Right, right. Let me go let him know you're here."

A few minutes later the freckle faced young witch returned with a portly old man, his thinning hair still having a reddish hue to its gray.

"A pleasure to meet you, I am Marcellus Stowe. Thank you so much for waiting, my niece said that your needs were rather particular. Why don't you tell me all about it?" He added a large smile at the end that implied nothing was too particular for him to find a way to put it in a trunk or tent.

"My nephew and I are going on a trip and we were thinking about using the rucksack that your niece was showing us, but I'm a squib and sometimes such magical habitats won't agree with me."

His bushy brows lifted in surprise, "A squib you say? And your nephew?" He looked down at the four year old as though he could discern whether or not he could use magic by staring through him.

"My nephew is just turned four Mr Stowe, I'm sure the Ministry wouldn't approve of him attempting magics," I said with a dull tone that I hoped would leave an impression.

"Yes, true, true. But," he said giving Harry a kindly look, "you might need to take care of your aunt some day young man. Squibs don't live as long as we do, you know. It would be much easier on her as well, most of our kitchens require the occupant to use at least an incendio for the oven."

I had only been alive for a month and I was already tired of nonsense like this idiot was displaying. His niece was mirroring my wide eyes and staring at her uncle like he was the biggest uncouth moron of all time. He did just tell a four year old he was in charge of me and that I was going to die, that just screamed moronic.

I mentally added, Fix Squib Prejudices to my To Do list.

"I am aware, Mr Stowe, that many magical residences and wizarding spaces are not equipped properly for me. The question was whether or not you have anything that would be suitable for us to use during our trips."

"Well," he said with a huff, still looking at Harry, "I could probably cobble something together, but I would suggest trying to go the muggle way of things if you aren't capable of being independent." There was a small intake of air from behind him where his niece obviously couldn't believe how ingrained the prejudice against squibs was in the magical world, even with her dear uncle.

I gave him a short look and a nod. "Thank you ever so much for your assistance," I said with a saccharine smile.

I took up Harry's hand and as the door closed behind us I could hear Marina shouting, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Little Harry looked up at me as I laughed a bit at the situation. When I finally looked down at him he seemed to be gathering his courage.

"Um– uh Aunt S-Sarah? What just happened?"

It made me laugh even more, though hopefully Harry didn't think I was laughing at him. Bending down a bit to speak to him at eye level, I gave his cheek a pat and smiled.

"Well, Mr Stowe thinks that people that don't have enough magic to use a wand shouldn't be using magical items. It's a pretty common thought that people like me should just get out of the magical community and live in the muggle world completely with no magic at all."

I would have gone on, but the door opened up and Marina came running out, almost slamming right into us.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for nearly running you over, but I'm also sorry for his behavior. Here take this, I don't know if it will help as I'm not nearly as well trained as I want to be just now," she handed me the Stowe and Packers catalog with all of her notes in it about what would be accessible for a squib. "And I wrote on the inside of the cover too. I went to school with her cousin, my uncle says she's talented even if he says it begrudgingly."

The note that she was pointing to was small in size, but monumental in help.

Avira Pillai

27 Horizant Alley

I thanked her and we made our way back into Horizant Alley to look for the shop.

After a bit of searching we found 28 Horizant Alley, a shop selling every type of sweet fried dough to have ever blessed the earth with its presence, but not the shop we had been advised to find. We ordered some chocolate filled bomboloni. The owner was working the counter and I was able to ask directions to number 27 as we paid.

"Oh, yeah. Avira's place is a bit tucked up and away, but once you see it you'll always remember it. Such a pretty blue color."

The directions were easy to follow and we found number 27 Horizant Alley down a small alley that seemed to have a bit of slope to it. The deep blue reminded me of something, but it wasn't until we reached the door and the sign shimmered into existence that I realized it.

And Relative Dimensions In Space

I giggled at the joke and Harry gave me an odd look before I explained that it was based off a television show where the main character traveled around in a box that was bigger on the inside. Just like a wizard trunk.

Instead of bells when we entered the shop a wheezing "vworp-vworp" sound was heard. We were met by a thirty something witch in a blouse and jeans with an open robe that stopped at her ankles. She seemed happy to have customers, but even happier to see my barely restrained laughter. It gave the impression that she had a selective clientele that were familiar with the muggle world.

"Hello and welcome to my shop," she said as she grasped her hands in front of her.

"I already love your shop, but I think I will have to catch my nephew up on the details."

Her smile was bright and welcoming as she introduced herself and acknowledged that he might be a little young to be interested in such shows yet.

"Were you looking for anything in particular? An expanded purse or rucksack? I have some lovely pre fashioned hampers that are perfect to pack away foodstuffs for a day outside playing in the snow."

"Oh, well we were looking for something to hold some food in it for snacks and such, but right now we're more interested in perhaps a tent or trunk. Gerrard and I are taking a trip and wanted to get something comfortable. But we had some difficulties at Stowe and Packers," I held up the catalog that Marina had given me and gestured to her note. "Marina recommended you after her uncle was rather frightful to us."

"OoH?" Avira had looked happy to hear of our interest in a tent, but had slowly morphed into a look of worry. What could cause her competition to recommend her to a customer?

"Yes, he was uncomfortable in helping a squib acquire something with wizarding space and thought it best if I only use muggle conveniences until my nephew was well trained enough to assist me." I covered his ears for a moment and whispered harshly to the witch, "And then he said that I would die soon so Gerrard needed to work hard to help me."

"Huh," she said in a bit of a shock as I took my hands of little ears. "Well, then. Wow."

"Yes. Marina was most displeased with him and followed us out."

"Well, I don't have any problem helping you out. Actually, you might be better off with my designs as they are more tactile than what British wixen are used to having."

"Taxtile?" asked a little voice.

I might have shown too much joy at the fact that not only had Harry talked in front of a stranger, but also that he had asked a question. It was a huge step forward. I didn't have the time to analyze the reasons he might have started to loosen up enough to behave like that, but it was definitely something I would obsess over later.

"Tactile, Gerard. It means touch. Could you give us an example Madam Pillai?"

"Sure, but Avira is fine. Well, Gerrard have you ever looked at a muggle stove before?" Harry nodded while I restrained myself from grimacing over the Dursleys and why he had such familiarity with a stove. "If you wanted to light a fire on the stove you would just turn the knobs and there would be fire, right? Well, in most British designs for magical spaces they just assume everyone can use a wand. There's maybe a nice spot for you to contain a fire spell in, but that doesn't always have the control of a muggle stove. That's why my kitchen sets have knobs. So your aunt could just turn the knob on the stove in one of my designs and it would light even though the fire itself would be magical. It's almost all done with runes."

"When you say 'British designs'..."

"After I finished at Hogwarts in '67 I went to live with some cousins in Karnataka, India and studied with Masters Kavita Chaudhry and Veeru Devgan at the, well the literal translation is closest to Making a Room Large. It was a very specialized study, I was so lucky to get a placement with the guild. Maybe even luckier that my father's family was fine with letting me live with them while I did."

I gave her a small smile and a nod to have her continue when she paused, a little flustered at having spoken so bluntly.

"If you need to see my credentials and licensure for the British Ministry of Magic I have them on hand of course. But anyways," she said with a shake of her head, "the British way of using a wand for every little thing isn't actually all that common in the rest of the world. Most of Africa, for instance, since the largest school of magic there teaches without any kind of additional foci like a wand. Large swaths of Asia consider it rude to use a wand in certain areas of the home even though they work and train with wands. I was able to work with many different styles from around the world with the guild. Getting you set up with something comfortable will not be a problem."

"Good. We don't need much, but I would like something that we could continue to use as he gets older. It would be nice to go on these trips fairly often. I'm also worried about security and how well it would travel with us. Marina showed us a rucksack that held a small cottage design, but she was unsure if I would be able to work with the design."

"That makes sense, the widening of the bag is usually triggered by a magical push from the user. It forces the bag to shape around the wixen. I also have umbrella tents that work on the same principle, the wixen would need to push a bit of magic into the handle of the umbrella while they open it up. It then triggers the magic of the tent to expand and form around them."

"That's an interesting idea, I've never heard of such a thing. Maybe I'm more ignorant about this than I had realized. I've never had the need to use one before."

"That's fine, why don't we go into my backroom. I've got a nice place for us to sit and chat, would you like some tea?"

An hour later and we had hammered out many of the most important details. I absolutely loved her idea of making the outside look like a muggle suitcase on wheels. It would look completely natural and not need magic for me to enter it as it would already be wide enough. She promised to enchant the wheels, for which I was grateful, rolling luggage in the 80s was not good.

Harry had been drawn out to make additions of things he would want in the suitcase. I had a feeling it would be staying in his room when not being used on holidays and I wanted it to have a bit of whimsy for him. When he asked for a garden in front of the home that would be inside the suitcase, I was more surprised by the fact that it was possible than by the request. Avira said that it would only grow non magical varieties, but that was fine with us.

There were other little things like a larger than normal larder for storing food under stasis. A laundry that would work much like the ones I was used to without the need for me to use magic. Increased wards and protections both inside and out to help keep us safe. A library for all the books I would need to get Harry as the wild magic made more neural connections while feeding his protections. Little things.

When we walked out of the alleys it was late and we were both hungry. We took off the pieces of our disguises that would make us stick out and put them in my expanded bag. Then we walked the short way to a nearby fish and curry place. As we ate I thought about all the places I was going to be showing him and hoped that he would open up more and more as we went along.

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

30 January 1985

We were standing together in silence.

It wasn't unusual as Harry was still a very quiet child, but we were both thinking deep thoughts.

The chatter in the background and the cold wind whipping at our faces, and we were looking back.

Back towards home.

Back across the water to the white cliffs.

And we just stood there.

Far too long.

I took a shuddering breath in and slowly let it out. Blinking, I reached into my bag and pulled out the camera.

"I know this is a big moment, and even if you don't think you want a memento of this moment now, you might want one later. Let's take your picture."

The camera had been specially crafted to my specifications. I definitely could not fumble my way through using the 1980s version of a camera anymore than someone from the 1980s could competently use a camera from 1920. Instead this camera was more adapted for someone from my future time, while still looking like a pricey muggle camera from the eighties.

Still looking a bit shell shocked, Harry shuffled towards the railing as I moved back to take the picture. There were birds flying about and another boat going past that would make interesting features when the pictures were animated with magic, and behind it all off to one side were the cliffs of Dover. He looked a little pale, but he tried for a smile.

CLICK!

The very first picture taken of Harry's first ever holiday.

It was my hope that this whole trip would give him some distance to what his life had been like before while allowing us more opportunities to bond.

I smiled at him and held out my hand. Grabbing the strap of my luggage I wheeled it behind us as we went further up to the front of the boat to watch France come into view.

We wouldn't be staying in France for very long, though. We had the Princely Carriage safely tucked away and once we found a safe spot we would simply use the Carriage to take us to our first campground in Athens. The drive would be long at nearly ten hours, but it would be safe. After exploring Athens we would travel out to Egypt for a site based in Cairo. There is so much to do in Egypt that we wouldn't just be sticking to a one place, but will move around and enjoy as much as possible. Then out to celebrate Carnival in Venice. With four or five days in each area it's a marvelous way to see so many sights both magical and muggle.

The holiday would be all about Harry and helping him come out of his shell. Helping him explore the world around him, ask questions, and enjoy himself without worry. I knew that it would all take quite a bit of time, but I had nearly a month before I had to be back in Little Whinging looking like I had been confunded and obliviated. Hopefully, we could make a great deal of progress during that time.

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ

14 February 1985

The clock radio was playing a local station that had Petunia Dursley tapping her toe as she artfully crafted her hair. Tonight was the Valentine's excursion, a fine dining experience with dancing. She had bought the black silk dress with this very special night in mind. Vernon was going to whirl her around the dance floor and they would sip champagne in celebration of each other.

Petunia gave a little sigh as she opened her makeup bag, she never did like putting anything on until she had finished with her hair first. Men had it so easy, why Vernon would only be getting into his new suit twenty minutes before they had to leave for their reservations. As her hand went to her bag to sort things out she instead found an envelope.

She nearly had a heart attack as she recognized the heavy parchment and a wax seal as something she had seen so many times in the past.

Petunia took a shaky breath and with trembling hands broke the seal.

Dear Aunt Petunia,

I know my magic protects you. Some friends of my parents came and told me everything. They tell me that for as long as you consider 4 Privet Drive my home, the magics that protect me will help protect you too. I have to also keep thinking of your house as my home to keep it going. If either of us stops thinking that then blood protection will stop and Voldemort's people will come and hurt you.

They have taken me away from Mrs Figg. I don't think she remembers me being over at all. I will be borrowing a room with someone else from now on and be away from home, which is number 4 Privet Drive, for some time. You may see me around the neighborhood on occasion so that I can keep up appearances, but I won't bother you. They have left information packets for what to tell the neighbors about where I have gone.

Basically, they want you to say that I've gone to a special school for primary that allows some boarders because I am very intelligent for my age. They were very particular about it all and I don't think they will find it funny if the neighbors think something else if they come and check.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

She read it through several times and even turned the letter around to see if something had been written on the back. She was dumbfounded. Petunia had thought she would have to deal with the boy and his abnormalities for years longer. But now she was free. All she had to do was convince the neighbors he had gone away for primary, an unusual thing to happen but it did happen. She didn't necessarily want the neighbors to think that he was special enough to go to a school due to his intelligence, but if they were going to check then she could say it once or twice and everyone would forget he even existed.

He would be gone.

As Petunia's heart slowed from its panicked racing she began to feel light headed, eventually she began to laugh.

He would be gone.

This holiday was only getting better.

When they went home he would be gone.

She carefully put the letter back into its envelope so that her husband could read it as well and then began applying her makeup.

This was the best Valentine's Day she could have ever wanted.

_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ