Hello All,
This is my attempt at HP fanfic. I haven't read much in the genre, so if anyone has done this particular take before, I really apologize. Not trying to rip off anyone's ideas! It begins at exactly the point in Book 1 when Harry is given Dudley's old room after his Hogwarts invitation letter is taken. This series will look at how an unlikely friendship will alter the events of wizarding history, and Harry's life, drastically from the books. Harry's priorities and goals will be different. Hope you enjoy! Any comments or criticism is very welcome. Series rated M for violence, language, and explicit themes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
In the House of the Serpent
Chapter 1
Another letter. This was no accident, something was going on.
Harry stomped up the stairs, entered his room, and his heart stopped.
"Ssssurprise, amigo…"
Thankfully, his yelp of fear strangled itself in his throat. There on Dudley's old bed, coiled in vast spiraling lengths, was the snake from the zoo.
"You- what're you doing here?!" He whispered in a panicked voice, praying the Dursley's hadn't overheard him.
"Brazil is a waaayyyysss away," hissed the snake.
"So?!"
"Followed your sssccent… couldn't think where else to go…"
There was a hint of sadness in the snake's voice. It took Harry aback, though his heart was still hammering.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
He didn't know how to comfort a snake.
"Sss'alright…Maybe some day."
"Err, right."
Harry shuffled his feet, unable to imagine how a monstrously-sized reptile might coexist with life at Number 4.
"If the Dursley's find you they'll call the zoo, and there's probably not much to eat around here."
"No worriesss. I'm plenty sneaky…"
Harry wondered how a ten-foot boa constructor could be sneaky. Then again, he'd gotten into the house without raising alarm.
"There's plenty of ratssss… they come in, because… the fat one hoardsss food."
Harry giggled, in spite of the situation.
"Well…just be careful, alright?"
The snake flicked its tail to its head in an unmistakable salute. From downstairs Uncle Vernon bellowed Harry's name so he made for a quick retreat, but not before asking:
"Um… how is it I can understand you?"
The snake cocked its head.
"Jussst have a good ear, I suppossse."
As if to compensate for the generosity of allowing Harry an actual room, Vernon had set Harry to work washing his car, then weeding the flower beds, then scrubbing the driveway. By the end of the day Harry's knees ached, his neck was red from the summer sun and his eyes were swollen from getting suds in them so many times. It hadn't helped that Dudley flung a sopping sponge at his face several times. After supper (a meager affair for Harry, who ate stale bread while the family wolfed down meatloaf) was over and he'd bathed, he lay in his new bed with a groan. The dinner table was subdued in the aftermath of The Letter. Dark looks were the preferred way of communicating.
Harry stared at the ceiling, wishing more than anything that he hadn't been stupid enough to let the Dursley's see that initial letter.
"Troubles in paradissse?"
The snake was back, seemingly out of nowhere. He slithered soundlessly across the floor, his smooth bulk glinting in the moonlight from the window. This time Harry wasn't scared.
"Yeah." he said glumly.
Harry turned over to face the snake, who slithered up towards the bed.
"I got a letter today. Someone sent ME a letter. ME! I never get letters but Uncle Vernon took it. He got really angry and talked about… stamping something out of me."
The snake's head was level with his own. He listened silently, tongue flicking every so often.
"Interesssting…maybe your friendsss… will send you another…"
"I haven't got any friends," Harry said bitterly. "Well, not besides you," he added hastily. "But that's what's so weird. Who would want to write me? I haven't got any family besides the Dursley's. I wish I'd just opened it."
"I can check to seee… for more lettersss…least I can do…"
"Really?"
"Nooo problemoooo…"
With that the snake withdrew to the window. Harry opened it and the snake slithered out. Feeling a bit better, Harry sank back down into the bed. His whole life at Number 4 had been tedium punctuated by disaster. Whether it was chores, hungry nights, beatings from Dudley, insults, there was always something waiting to smack him in the face. And the worst part was there was no end to it. He rolled over.
But today was different. That letter contained something special, he knew it. And the snake wanted to be friends with him! That was what 'amigo' meant, right? Harry had never had a friend before. It felt good.
With that comforting thought, he fell asleep.
He awoke to something falling on his face.
"Ssssspecial delivery…"
Arising swiftly, Harry nearly collided with the snake's head bent over his own. Several heavy envelopes fell to the side.
"Sorry," He said hurriedly before seizing a lumpy packet. "You managed to get it!?"
"Eassssy peasssyy… the hairy one was sleeping by the door…took it from hisss lap."
Uncle Vernon must have been on a stakeout! He was trying to prevent Harry from receiving his letters.
"Thank you so much!" Harry gushed, hugging the snake on impulse.
"Let's sseee what's inssside," The snake said after being released.
"Yeah!"
Harry tore open one of the envelopes and unfolded its contents, hands shaking a bit. The snake twined around his body and leaned over his shoulder to read with him:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term Begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
By the end of the short letter, Harry's breath was short. He felt almost faint. The paper in his hand seemed very far away then shot to the foreground again. He read it once more, then tore open the others to see if there was anything different in them, but they were all the same.
Then he read again, trying to make it sink in.
"A school where you learn magic?"
Harry had seen magicians on TV. They did stuff like pulling rabbits out of hats, or making balls vanish under soup bowls. But from the list of required items which included spell books and potions equipment, this sounded different. This sounded like the real deal, not just sleight of hand tricks.
"I wonder why me, though? They're definitely watching me, I mean-"he flourished the envelope with the address on it,
"They know what bloody room I'm in! But why?"
"Meansss they know you can do… interesssting things."
Harry felt like smacking himself in the head.
"Like talking to you! Of course, that must be it! Has anyone else ever talked to you before?"
The snake shook its head.
"And the way my hair grew back that time Petunia cut it, and how I can be somewhere without meaning to be and-"
He paused. His mind was galloping a million miles a minute.
"D'you think my parents were wizards too?" he breathed. "Is that what Vernon meant? Stamping it out of me?"
"Dunno…" The snake hissed softly, "My father wasss a snake… my mother was a snake…. Makes ssssense I would be a sssnake toooo…"
Harry thought hard. Of all the themes the Dursley's didn't like questions about, it was his parents. Uncle Vernon's face never got so red, and Aunt Petunia never swung harder with a frying pan than when Harry inquired after his parentage.
When he was smaller, he'd once pressed the issue too much, and they locked him in his cupboard for an entire day. They didn't open it even to give him food, though the Sunday Roast smelled so good it almost hurt. With no break for toilet he finally wet himself. He hadn't wanted to. He'd even piled his mattress against the wall so it didn't get soaked. The light blinded him when they finally opened the door, revealing their disgusted faces as Harry stood cringing and sobbing in a puddle at his feet.
'I didn't mean to', he had cried, 'it was an accident.'
The memory made his face burn hot and the tears came again. He was gripping the letter so hard it almost tore.
"What'ssss going on, inside that fuzzy head?"
The snake's tongue flicked by his ear. Harry turned to look at him.
"I'm going to this Hogwarts school. No matter what."
It was easier said than done. The Dursley's were satisfied they'd thwarted the magical world by confiscating Harry's letter, but they were still watchful. Uncle Vernon jumped every time the phone rang, and gazed with trepidation at the letter box, as if it might sprout teeth and spring at him. Aunt Petunia stalked about the house like a jail guard. Harry tried to put together a plan for procuring his things and getting to Hogwarts, but from the confines of Privet Drive, it seemed as impossible a journey as walking to the moon.
To make things worse, the letter had no return address, and not the slightest indication of where he was supposed to buy these exotic school supplies.
"First things first, I need to let them know I'm coming." He stated, walking to and fro in his room like a general planning an attack.
He frowned at the paper, rereading for the tenth time.
"'We await your owl'. Does that mean my response?"
There had been lots of unusual owl sightings according to the news. Maybe they were some kind of postal system.
"I could sssnatch one for us…they're delicate thingsss…"
"It might not fly so well once you've chomped it," Harry pointed out.
There was no feasible way of catching an owl, so Harry abandoned the idea. What he needed was money.
"Oh yessss… those little bits of metal… the ssstringy one keeps them in her pouch."
"Do you think you could get some?"
"Yesss."
Harry frowned, and nodded.
"That's a start. While you work on that, I'll see about a way to contact Hogwarts."
He took a walk outside to clear his head. It was a hot summer day, but Harry didn't mind the heat. His mind was fixed on solving his immediate problem. Heedless of where his feet were taking him he strolled all along the neighborhood with his head bowed to peruse the letter, though he'd pretty much memorized its contents. More than once it occurred to him it was all some elaborate prank, but the Dursleys didn't believe in quirky humor, and weren't creative enough for a scheme like this.
"Watch out, boy!"
Mrs. Figg was tending to her flower beds. Harry hadn't noticed he was passing her house, but he wasn't within spitting distance of her ugly smelly flowers.
"Sorry, Mrs. Figg."
But she didn't respond. She was staring wide-eyed at the letter in his hand. He quickly hid it behind his back.
"You-"
"it's nothing! Don't tell the Dursley's please, they…"
But the way she was looking at him gave him pause. It wasn't just simple astonishment that Harry had a letter. It was a look of recognition.
"Mrs. Figg. Do you know about this?"
Her eyes flicked to his face. She seemed to snap back to reality.
"Know what? Off with you now! I have chores to do."
She half-turned away but Harry stepped forward.
"Mrs. Figg, I got this letter from a place called Hogwarts. They're expecting me to respond but I don't have an owl, and I don't know where to go for my school supplies. I don't have money for them and I need someone to tell me-"
Harry's tone was pleading but forceful. Ordinarily he'd never speak to any adult like this, never beg, never show this kind of weakness, but desperation drove him on. As he spoke Mrs. Figg shook her head in abrupt little motions. Her face was screwed up like she had a lemon in her mouth.
"-otherwise I'll never be able to get there and it'll all be ruined. It's my chance to get away from them-"
"Nonono, I'm not supposed to-"
"-only a bit of advice-"
"-supposed to be watching you, strict instruction-"
"-even if you don't HAVE an owl, point me to-"
"ALRIGHT!"
She was breathing hard as if she'd run several miles, and clutched the lumpy crotched garment she wore tighter.
"Alright. Just get inside," She breathed, then stalked quickly across the garden. Harry followed.
"Close the door!"
He did so. The familiar stuffy air of the Figg house engulfed him, but he didn't notice. Mrs. Figg was pouring tea with hands shaking so badly, the silver kettle was in danger of smashing her china to pieces.
"Yes, I'm familiar with Hogwarts, and Professor Dumbledore, and magic and everything else you might have a question about."
She thrust a teacup filled with cold water at him, and grabbed up a pen and paper from the kitchen counter.
"So are you a-"
"Don't ask questions!" She snapped, sounding remarkably like Aunt Petunia, "This isn't my… I mean, no one told me I was…"
She sputtered before going back to scribbling madly on the piece of paper. Several awkward minutes passed. Harry sat in stone silence, hardly daring to believe his luck, hardly daring even to move. Mrs. Figg! Mrs. Figg of all people knew and was helping him! She cursed at one point when her pen went dry, and slapped the paper on its backside to continue her violent scribbling when she ran out of room on the front.
"There!" she exclaimed finally, thrusting the sheet into his chest, "That's everything to be getting on with, now OUT."
She shooed him towards the door, shushing him as he muttered repeated thank-yous.
"Put it in your pocket, you fool, don't wave it about! And don't come back with any more questions!"
She slammed the door in his face, an ornamental bell jingling with finality.
Back at Number 4, Harry eagerly unfurled the crumpled bit of notebook paper on his bed after fending off a Dudley assault and blocking the door with his new desk. His snake friend wasn't there. Harry really had no worries about him being discovered; if it happened, the Dursleys would shriek loud enough to wake the dead, flee in the car and be halfway to Dover before their panic subsided.
The paper said that yes Mrs. Figg had an owl but he wasn't to use it. EVER. She would send a response confirming that he was attending, and ask for the key to his family vault in 'Gringotts'.
"Vault?" Harry said aloud.
A family vault? With money? Obviously it had nothing to do with the Dursleys.
She would leave the key under the geranium pot by the door, and he should check there by Friday. He was NOT to knock on her door. All his supplies could be bought in London in place called Diagon Alley, which could be found via a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Harry's excitement grew with every word. It all seemed more and more real. On the back of the note, she gave the address for this pub.
He gazed out the window in jubilation. He wasn't going to be a prisoner forever. Great things were about to happen.
Sometime later, Harry eagerly shared the new information from Mrs. Figg when his friend returned. It turned out he'd also been successful.
"Tassstes horrible!"
The snake disgorged the contents of Petunia's purse onto the rug. Harry scooped it up and scattered it on the desk.
"Perfect! I really owe you one."
"You got me out of captivity….ssseems only fair."
"By the way," Harry asked while counting out the coins and the slightly moist bills, "How do you get around here without them seeing?"
He had already been in the room when Harry entered.
"Plenty of gaps in the wallssss….some pipessss big enough."
Harry wished he was that flexible.
The next day the house had relaxed a little and conversation resumed, though it didn't include Harry of course. Dudley had Piers over so Harry was content to stay in his room and go over strategy with his friend. He still needed to find a way out of the house, without being observed, and without being reeled back in by the Dursleys or the authorities.
It may not have been the best environment for concentration: the summer sun beamed in through the window warm and soporific, and the snake lay basking on the floor. Harry lay on the rug too, resting his head on a thick coil.
"I could suggest a little vacation… then duck out once we're gone."
It was a laughable idea. Even if it got them all out of the house, it still posed the same problem. The Dursley's would notice he was gone and…
And what?
It suddenly occurred to him. He'd been overthinking this whole thing. They didn't care if he disappeared. They would call nobody. They would be glad he was gone. As long as they didn't know it involved magic, they'd pretend not to even notice their nephew had vanished.
Harry gave an involuntary laugh.
"What'sss funny?" The snake murmured sleepily.
"I think I'll take a very long walk on Friday."
The next morning Harry sprang out of bed, bolted down his breakfast and told Vernon he was going out. Vernon grunted. Pocketing the stolen money (grateful Petunia hadn't noticed it was missing) Harry set out for Mrs. Figg's. Sure enough, the key was under the pot, along with a train ticket which showed a departure date of 9/1/1997, at King's Cross Station, Platform 9 & ¾. This must be how he'd get to Hogwarts. Saying a silent prayer of eternal thanks for Mrs. Figg, he stuffed both items into his jeans and set out for the Bus Station.
The sun was high in the sky by the time he reached it.
"One for London, please." He said chirpily, standing with fingers crossed and hoping no one would ask why he was alone. But the old man at the ticket box didn't spare him a glance.
On the bus itself Harry was practically bouncing in his seat from excitement. He was traveling! Alone! He felt like the biggest, most grown up person to ever exist, and if not for residual fear about getting caught and turned over to Prison Dursley, he would have struck up a conversation about stock exchanges with the gentleman reading the Financial Times next to him, despite knowing nothing about it. He searched his pockets to make sure it was all there: key, supplies list, Mrs. Figg's note, money.
London was an extraordinary place. Harry had never seen so many people. He dearly wished to go visit the Royal Palace and the National Gallery and the Tower, but he hadn't the time. He needed to find his way to the Leaky Cauldron pub. A map he bought from a newsstand didn't enlighten him in the slightest. He had no idea London was so big and spread out, it was more like a patchwork of villages than an actual city, and the Underground wasn't a help if he couldn't match the address to anywhere on the map.
Walking down a random street, he noticed a fleet on parked black cabs. He approached one where the driver was reading a magazine.
"Excuse me?"
The driver looked at him over his glasses.
"Alright, my son?"
"Umm, do you think you could find this address here?"
He held up Mrs. Figgs note. The man peered through his spectacles.
"In a twinkling. You'd like a lift, young sir?"
"Yes, please!"
He jumped into the cab with alacrity and they set off. The man was very nice, though when he asked Harry's name, he instinctively lied and said Dudley. It was best not to leave a trail if he could help it. They chatted about cricket mostly.
"And here we are, young sir. Very pleasant to meet you."
"You as well," Harry said, handing up the money for the trip.
The cab trundled away as Harry took stock of his surroundings. There were ordinary rows of shops on either end of the street, and for a moment a cold stab of fear entered his heart. Was this the wrong place?
But then his eye fell on it.
Squashed between two well-maintained and popular-looking shops was a dingy, grubby-looking place that looked as if the surrounding buildings were trying to squeeze it out. Passerby's eyes flicked between the adjoining shops without noticing the ugly locale between.
Harry crossed the street and caught sight of himself in a shop window. A disheveled boy wearing jeans and a t-shirt too large for him, broken glasses, and long unkempt hair looked back at him. In all the recent tumultuousness, Aunt Petunia had forgotten to give him his usual hack job haircut. It had scattered down well below his ears and hung over his forehead covering his scar. He felt a bit embarrassed about his appearance, but the recent events had given him self-confidence. He could do this. Taking a breath, he entered the pub.
He knew immediately this was the right place. Strangely garbed people populated the equally dingy interior, wearing all manner of robes in an array of colors. Harry had seen such people before, and they'd all been very friendly. Maybe they had known he was a magical person like them. Even now, several of them eyed Harry with interest. An older man behind the counter addressed him.
"How are you, my boy?"
Harry'd never experienced two people in a row speak nicely to him. It almost made him uneasy.
"Ahm, I'm looking for the entrance to Dye-Agon Alley."
The man smiled, in a very kindly way.
"Dia-GONE Alley, lad," He corrected mildly, "All by your lonesome, then?"
Harry nodded.
"Well, my name's Tom, I'm the landlord of this establishment. The entrance is out back, I'll show you. Come round now."
He led them to a literal alley in back of pub. It was tiny and dirty with a blank slate of brick wall at the end. Certainly no room for even a newsstand, much less an actual shop.
"This may be a shock t'ya so be ready," Tom said.
Harry steeled himself.
Tom tapped a brick on the wall, and the whole edifice melted like butter under an open flame. Harry's eyes were the size of dinner plates. Once again he felt that rushing, spinning sensation like when he first read the letter, a feeling of hyper-awareness but unreality at the same time. It was real.
IT WAS REAL.
He followed Tom through the freshly-made entrance into Diagon Alley. It was a cobble-stone street absolutely jam-packed with people, bustling between shops brimming with strange and incredible merchandise. Cauldrons were for sale, broomsticks, extraordinary ingredients for potions… his mind was reeling from it all.
"Got your school list?"
"What?" Harry asked, dazed.
"Your list of things for school? I take it that's why you're here."
"OH! Right," harry said, fishing out the paper. Tom nodded.
"Any questions at all, you just come ask me. Tap the brick three up from the rubbish bin and two across to get back and forth."
"Okay, thank you very much sir."
"Anytime."
They shook hands, and Tom went back through the entrance, which instantly became a solid wall again.
Harry was left alone in the magic and the mayhem of the Alley, which stretched as far as he could see. It couldn't be part of London, could it? There was no way it was in the same space. Was magic this powerful that it could hide whole city blocks in an alley behind a pub? A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Harry's lips. It was all so overwhelming. To give his mind a break from contemplating the big picture, he started exploring the minutiae of the surrounding shops.
"Ten galleons more for a self-stirring cauldron, only ten galleons more, guaranteed consistency in ALL your potions!"
A shopkeeper was eagerly hawking his wares to a surrounding gaggle of women, who were whispering energetically to each other.
"Good day sir, good day, just starting school I bet, eh? What do you say, ten galleons more for our patented cauldron, you'll be star of the class!"
He'd caught sight of Harry.
"Umm, no thanks, I haven't got any- I mean, not yet I haven't-"
The shopkeeper instantly turned away. It reminded Harry that he must visit the place called Gringotts. According to Mrs. Figg it contained a vault with money in it just for him, so it must be a kind of bank. He asked after it from a jovial-looking man in a magenta robe, who pointed him in the direction.
Gringotts proved the most imposing building Harry had yet seen. It towered over a courtyard like a white marble colossus, leaning forward slightly, as if to inspect everyone who passed beneath its shadow. Harry was so transfixed at its size that he didn't notice the rather smaller, but every bit as shocking, shape standing at the buildings' entrance. It looked like a man, but couldn't have been. Perhaps a meter tall, with a long pointed nose and immensely long hands and feet, it stood watching keenly from Gringotts front door, its deep set but clever-looking eyes roving over the crowd. Clearly, he was some form of magical creature, and maybe a formidable kind.
Harry approached with caution. The creature upon seeing his intent pulled the great door open.
"Thank you," Harry said with a slightly higher voice than normal. The creature bowed.
Inside was a long marble hallway, with a roof that extended to the building's full height. On either side, high oak desks stretched in one unbroken wall to the opposite end of the chamber. More of the clever-looking creatures attended the desk rows, weighing piles of gold dust on intricate scales, or examining massive gemstones through brass microscopes. They seemed so busy Harry just kept walking, too intimidated to ask any for help. Eventually, as he neared the end, he had no choice.
"…Hello?"
The creature he addressed had long but thin white hair. He looked older than the others. He peered down his miles of nose at Harry.
"Yes?"
"I'm…I'm starting school soon and need money. Mrs. Fi- I mean, someone told me my family has a vault… and I- that is am I allowed to…have it?"
The creature blinked.
"Do you have your key?"
"Yes! Yes, here it is."
He produced the little gold key as quickly as he could, standing on tiptoe to hand it over the desk. The creature examined it in his long, dexterous fingers.
"Very good."
He handed it back.
"There was a disturbance in one of our vaults yesterday. Our employees are very busy. Please wait a few minutes and one of our number will escort you down."
"Oh. I hope everything's all right."
The creature pursed his lips.
"Nothing was taken."
In a short while another creature, this one with shiny black hair, appeared and led Harry through a door to what astonishingly resembled a miner's shaft. A cart came rushing up the tracks upon a whistle, and the two got inside.
"Hands within the cart at all times," The creature announced, and with that, the cart shot off like a rocket. It plunged down, sideways, up and down again, through a subterranean world of caverns and caves. It was the most thrilling ride Harry had ever had. He'd gone to the fair with the Dursley's once and watched enviously as Dudley and Morgan and Piers went on the fun rides while he, Harry, lingered on the sidelines because he was too small. Or maybe Petunia just said he was too small to deny him a bit of pleasure. Now he had to contain his desire to put his hands up and yell the way people did on the rollercoasters, but nothing could stymie the grin spreading from ear to ear.
Eventually the cart halted where the track adjoined a rocky outcropping. A short distance up a massive round vault door was set into the solid stone.
"Your key, please."
The creature inserted it into the tiny lock, and the door swung open. When the odd green smoke cleared, Harry's jaw fell open for maybe the tenth time that day.
The vault was filled with heaps of gold, silver and bronze coins. Piles of them. Harry could have gone swimming in it!
"This… this was my parent's money?"
"The Potter family fortune, yes, accrued over generations."
"How much is it?"
"The vault contains 50,265 galleons, 10,946 sickles, and 23,812 knuts," The creature answered immediately.
Harry stepped into the vault, looking around him. Coins clinked underfoot.
"I'm very sorry, but I don't know how much that is."
The creature raised an eyebrow.
"It's just… I'm new to all this. No one's told me anything. About this world."
The creature gazed at him with an inscrutable expression. Then it stepped into the vault as well. Bending over, it scooped up a handful of coins.
"This," he said showing a small bronze coin between thumb and forefinger, "Is a Knut. The smallest denomination. Twenty nine of them equal," He flashed a silver coin, "one Sickle. And seventeen sickles come to," He produced the gold coin, by far the largest, "one Galleon."
Harry burned those figures into his memory.
"And- I'm sorry for all these questions- how much do you think I need?"
The creature sighed, then beckoned with his hand.
"Your school list, please."
He perused it for a moment before declaring:
"Twenty Galleons, thirteen Sickles, and five Knuts should suffice."
Harry gathered that amount in a small bag he was given.
"A price index will be provided before you leave, along with details of fund renewal and accrued interest to your account."
"Thank you," Harry said uncertainly. He should learn the specifics of his money situation, if he could understand it all. Then a thought occurred to him.
"Does anyone else have access to this vault?"
"You are the sole surviving beneficiary."
Until the cart arrived back, and Harry was handed his financial documents before stepping back into the sunlight, he was very quiet.
The sole survivor.
He'd only asked because the Dursley's had come to mind, and he didn't want their greasy hands anywhere near his lifeline to independence. That's what this money was after all; freedom. It was a bit of freedom kept in secret for him by his parents.
What had happened to them? Why were they gone?
Harry's eyes squinted in the sunlight as he walked down the marble steps. He would get answers. He would know the truth.
End of Chapter 1.