I don't own Harry Potter, and I hope you enjoy this series of one-shots which continues my The Burglar of Tokyo series.
Enjoy.
The Burglar of Tokyo - Take 2.
By TimeTraveller-1900.
Two Homes.
Harry grinned as he looked around his mother's townhouse. He had known about the dwelling when his mother's memory ritual triggered off that storm in Tokyo, one it had given him a very good reason to keep himself fighting.
Lily and Petunia's parents had given them both houses for letting or for selling, in order to give them a nice little nest egg or income coming through; their father, Harry's maternal grandfather, had known how lucrative it was to let out flats and homes and using the money as an extra source for income, and if they were lucky then they would have more than enough money to buy a cafe or a shop for sale, and they would buy it from auction, get it sorted through, and then sell it off once it was done.
Harry had never been aware of another house; he would have known since Petunia would have made him clean it until every inch of it was gleaming clean and there wasn't a speck of dust on the ground, but his mother had the reason. Petunia had just given it off, she had been too pissed off by the favouritism Lily was getting every minute and her own bitterness made her hand over the deed to Vernon, who had likely sold it off to get the cash. Petunia had likely forgotten about it.
But Lily hadn't been stupid enough to let it go. She had kept the gift, and she had saved the money up from the lets until she could buy another property, and then another and another until she had a nice little income coming through. Lily had ensured Harry would get a hold of her estate when he came of age in the non-magical world, but she had two homes in London and on the South Coast.
Harry had only been back in the United Kingdom for a few hours, but he had effortlessly found his mother's London townhouse and with a quick spell, he had come in and was now looking around.
The townhouse was covered with so many dust sheets to keep the place dust free, but he definitely planned to give the place a nice little clean. Although he had memories in his head from his mother of this place, Harry still explored the place; there were three floors, with several bedrooms, a large library, two large bathrooms, a laundry room, a potions lab, a kitchen and a pantry, a garage, a large living room, a dining room although Lily had transformed it into a gym.
The garden was massive with overgrown grass that reached up to the thigh with a large pond.
Once he had walked through the townhouse and he had explored every room, Harry had begun tidying up some of the townhouse; the job took him hours, and he had a fresh new bed; he had a new home.
Once he was finished, Harry went out and used some money to buy some food. When he had first arrived in London, he had broken into a shop, stole some cash (it was….going to take him time, to relearn how the British currency was going to work), and he had stolen a small amount that would last for a few days to live on.
He only got the basics (it was going to be strange, to go into shops where he knew the products he had been so used to in Little Whinging were there, and none of the Japanese bento boxes and fruit juices was available; he could visit a few international stores if he liked); eggs, bread, sausages, bacon, milk, chocolate, orange juice, cleaning products, salt, soap, toilet paper, some tinned fruit, honey, and cereal. For dinner, he just had scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon and orange juice, and for pudding he just had cereal.
As he sat in the living room chair his mother had loved, swallowed by the size of the chair while he watched some television (Japanese had become a second language to him, but sometimes translating rapidly spoken Japanese had proven to be a fucking headache for him), and he had a chance for himself to learn what had been happening in his home country recently; Britain was not really different from Japan or the rest of Asia, really; each government and country had its own problems, drawbacks, scandals, issues, and things like that.
But as he sat there, wondering about what he was going to do now, Harry knew precisely that he was on borrowed time; soon he would be going to Hogwarts, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself.
In the morning, he would go to Gringotts, the wizards' bank, and he would discover what had been happening in the magical world for the last few years, and then he would begin exploring the city. He had not survived this long after being stranded in Tokyo ever since the Dursleys abandoned him by not bothering to explore London. He would need to look out for maps; street maps, tube maps, train maps, and stuff like that.
Thinking about the Dursleys made him grimace; he wanted to get even with his mother's sister and her bastard family. There was an old score for him to settle, but at the same time he wasn't going to do it tomorrow; he would need time to find the best way of getting to Little Whinging and how.
The most logical way for him to do that was by train. He knew there was an hourly service which passed through Little Whinging station and went through to London, but he wasn't sure where about in London; he had never travelled on the train from that station before ever. He'd have to find it, but there was plenty of time for him to do that.
X
Harry stood outside the bank, feeling like he was a stranger. He had woken up earlier and had a nice little breakfast, and he had come early to Gringotts before the morning rush through the alley. It was strange being out here, in his third world; the first being British culture, the second being Japan, and now this, the magical culture.
Harry looked around the alley, looking at the wondrous sight of this magical shopping district, feeling like he had gone back in time.
Harry sighed and walked inside, and he found a free goblin. "My name is Harry Potter," he said to the goblin, who began smirking at him, and spoke before he had a chance to finish.
"I see, Mr Potter," the goblin said and he spat a guttural string of words in his language, "You may follow them, Mr Potter."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the goblins' words and the way he stressed his name, but he followed the goblins down to an office, where he was taken to an office.
"You claim to be Harry Potter, but we goblins know he is under Dumbledore's protection," an older goblin commented while Harry's eyes caught sight of a number of razor-edged swords and battle axes that looked scary than any weapon in a museum. He could swear some of the weapons were black not with decay, but with long dried blood, and they were still fucking viciously sharp!
"If that's true then Dumbledore is useless," Harry replied, "I've never met him."
He was telling the truth. He had never met Dumbledore, all he had to go on were his mother's memories and his impression of the old wizard.
"I know you're sceptical of my identity, but you can prove it, Master Goblin," Harry went on, surprising the goblins with the respect in his tone, and his adherence to goblin culture, something most wizards ignored. "Why don't you prove it?"
The goblin's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing in suspicion. "What are you trying to say, wizard?"
"Nothing. I just want to prove to you I am Harry Potter, I discovered something of my mother's and I have come here," Harry replied, telling a half-truth. "You can test my blood."
The goblin silently pulled out a sheet of red parchment and a small ornate but sharp knife that looked a lot like a larger letter opener. "Come here," he ordered, holding up a hand to the guards, making them come out of attention and more into a fighting posture. Harry stepped forwards like he hadn't noticed but he was prepared for a fight.
The goblin slashed his finger and a few spots of blood collected on the blade and dropped on the parchment; it burst into flames and transformed into a beige/brown. The goblin leaned forward and no expression appeared on his face. "I apologise, Mr Potter, for all of the scepticism but you are who you say you are and we have to maintain our client's confidentiality," the goblin gestured to the seat and gestured for the now reluctant guards to walk out.
"I understand," Harry replied, sitting down and making himself as comfortable as he could be, "a few years ago, I discovered the wizarding world's existence thanks to discovering some copies of my mother's diaries; they gave me enough information about the magical world, but the muggle relatives my mother had, whom Dumbledore passed me off to, took me to Japan and left me there. I've been there for the last few years."
"Left you there?" The goblin began hissing angrily.
"They stranded me there. I have only just returned to this country; I couldn't approach the muggle authorities. I guessed they would simply deport me and arrange with the British authorities to have the Dursleys - my muggle relatives in case you haven't sussed - meet me. I found my own way back after living in Japan for the last few years," Harry replied.
"Where are you staying now?"
"I still had my mother's diaries; they told me about some properties she owned. I've recently begun living in one, but I would appreciate knowing more about the events in the magical world over the last few years and also if my presence here is kept quiet."
"I think we can arrange that," the goblin replied.
But Harry wasn't finished. "I would also like…resources, to help me learn about magic before I arrive at Hogwarts, and I would like some security as my mother's entries concerning Albus Dumbledore are worrying; if there's one thing I learnt on the streets, it is to be suspicious of people who leave you unannounced with muggle relatives."
The goblin looked at him shrewdly. "I think we can manage that."
"Thank you."
X
A few hours later, a more enlightened and enriched Harry Potter walked satisfied through the main line station at Victoria to the ticket/information desk to find out how to get to Little Whinging from London. Harry had spent over an hour with the goblins, learning the magical world had elevated him to godhood because he had survived the killing curse. He was a hero of the magical world since Voldemort had been banished. Harry was scornful of the whole idea.
How could a baby, a toddler, have defeated such a powerful wizard like Lord Voldemort?
It made no sense.
But he pushed that aside and he had to admit, while he had access to his mother's magical library and the knowledge she had gleaned from Hogwarts and her time earning her masteries which was good enough, Harry had access to several more advanced books, and the goblins would be warding his townhouse in a few days time to prevent the wizarding world discovering his practicing of magic.
Once he got to the ticket seller, he waved his hand, preparing to lace his words with magic to make sure the woman told him what he wanted to know although truthfully he didn't see why the person couldn't help.
"Can I help you?" The seller was surprised to see such a young boy in front of her.
"Yes. I am trying to find out how to get to Little Whinging, Surrey," Harry said to her.
