C012 - Harry's Hatred

"Why weren't you at dinner yesterday? The girls were worried," a voice echoed through the room as I woke up with a killer headache.

Natural Occlumens or not, the torture the hat called teaching really did a number on my mind, and I felt it bursting at the seams as I tried to put everything I learned yesterday to good use.

"Exploring," I answered simply as I forced myself to sit up. "Forgot the time."

I looked toward Harry, who sat there in a simple tanktop, using his fingers to brush his unblemished skin with no signs of the abuse he lived through on it.

"I see. You hungry then?" He asked and pointed to my nightstand where a slice of quiche was waiting for me.

It looked freshly made, but I'd like to believe Harry brought them up last night after dinner since I was a no-show.

"Your idea?" The boy-who-lived nodded. "Thanks."

I didn't eat the food because I'd rather eat breakfast in the great hall right about now, but I still felt gratitude for the gesture as I made my way into the bathroom with half-closed eyes and tried to get my head right. The pain was slowly getting better, like my brain was adjusting itself to a new normal and succeeding. I didn't feel the difference yet, but I was sure they were there.

"Are we on speaking terms again after the twins told you about the death eaters in my family?" I eventually asked Harry when I came out of the bathroom with wet hair after washing up.

Harry didn't betray any emotions as I asked, making me wonder if he somehow knew Occlumency as well - maybe self-taught out of necessity. He pondered for a moment before saying, "It was weird. It felt out of character."

'Holy shit. He picked up on that despite not knowing the Weasley twins? So he's putting stock into me saying someone's scheming behind his or even our backs? Or was he suspicious before and felt comfortable sharing it with me now?'

"It was. Have you heard of the Compulsion charm?"

Harry didn't give a reply, likely unsure about the answer.

"We learned about Obliviators on Friday. Compulsion is of the same branch of magic and makes you more susceptible to suggestion. Someone put the idea into their minds to embarrass me in front of... well, either everyone or you specifically."

"Dumbledore," Harry whispered with a faraway gaze barely loud enough for me to hear.

"You think so too?" I asked with a raised brow, hiding away my glee about how fast this version of Harry picked up on it.

"Hagrid told me he dropped me off at my muggle prison on his orders... do you know how often I went to the police during my first year of schooling when I found out what the police is? Four times. And they still left me with them," Harry continued in a haunted whisper. "I stopped trying after because the hits would get harder, even when there was no follow-up. Like they knew about me trying to report them."

'So this kind of trope was real in this world, too? I thought him trying to get teachers involved was the most of what he did and those teachers simply didn't care because Vernon and Petunia poisoned their minds with the delinquent rumors and then maybe the dark magics from the horcrux in the scar influenced them towards negative thoughts?'

"What are you saying?"

"They forgot I was there before. I recognised the officer, but he didn't recognize me. Obliviators... but Madam Hopkirk didn't mention a single word about clearing the police from even knowing a magical if they didn't talk about magic and nobody in the magical world even seemed to know I grew up in the muggle world," Harry calmly explained, his gaze still somewhere on the window or the wall next to it.

'Ah, he saw all those stupid books about him living in castles, married to princesses, and defeating dragons then. And from the reactions of Madam Hopkirk and the rest of the staff, he was sure of Dumbledore's hand in it even more. Madam Pomfrey likely only cemented that belief in Harry when I was gone.'

"Only those who knew about me staying with those monsters could have done it," Harry concluded and finally called his aunt and uncle something different from strangers or acquaintances of his mum's. "Dumbledore did it... he had to."

I let that stew a little in the room, amazed by Harry's wit and wondering what he would do about it. As a famous celebrity, he had hundreds of options, after all. He could expose his living conditions and his conclusion about Dumbledore - which would tie in nicely with the bombs I had Rita cook up through Patrick yesterday.

He could even simply flee the country. Any country would welcome him, with his status, and his origin and noble roots with open arms, though only a few could likely withstand if Dumbledore came knocking. And finally, he could just vanish. Though, that would potentially lead to him getting named a traitor or a coward and might lead to him facing trumped-up criminal charges.

Of course, he could do a thousand things in between. He could even try to become a patron of one the older noble families and become their pawn. Though, with his wits, he could probably outsmart them and wrap them around his fingers.

'Or we get Sirius out early and trust he isn't a Dumbledore-Yes-Man? He'd have to be proper hateful of the man if Dumbledore was the one who cast the Fidelius charm to hide the Potter cottage. Wishful thinking, though, if this world's Dumbledore gets to him with his shaken, dementor-broken psyche first.'

"Well, I won't tell you how I know, but I know Dumbledore dropped me off at the orphanage. I have my own grievances with the man. Glad you're not going to stand in my way," I eventually said as I finished dressing for the day. "You'll need a helper. Someone who isn't me that you can trust."

Harry looked at me with narrowed eyes as he picked up a sweater for the day.

"And you'll need a new wardrobe. I take it, Hagrid took you to Diagon Alley for your supplies?"

Surprised, since he didn't tell anyone, Harry merely nodded.

"And Madam Malkin didn't offer you a complete package for clothes? I bought everything from underwear to shirts there since I had the money to spare. Trust me, you'll feel different in your own clothes," I commented and looked at his sweater three times his size. "Your cousin must be a walrus?"

"Yea, Dudley broke 100kg this summer," Harry idly responded. "How'd you know?"

"If you listen, you hear much more than people tell you. The monsters you lived with were your mom's sister or brother, and it doesn't take a lot of brainpower to figure out they have a kid roughly your age or a little older. And if you call them monsters and if they treat you like I think they did, there's no way you'd wear anything that wasn't a hand-me-down."

Harry turned thoughtful, likely using his brilliant mind to figure out any kind of hidden meaning in our conversation since I pointed out the nuances and non-verbal messages in a conversation.

"You have someone in mind for this loyal helper?" He asked mere moments later.

"I do. House elves. Not sure how your mother thought about them, being muggle born and everything, but from my understanding thus far, their loyalty is beyond question. The Macnair family had one, and despite my grandfather torturing and abusing it for decades, he still bonded to me... after a small discussion," I described with a small drawl. "A family as prosperous and old as your father's, the only way you didn't have a Potter elf waiting to get called by you is if Dumbledore interferred or they somehow died in the decade since your family's passing."

"What does my mother's blood status have to do with it?" Harry asked with a slight edge in his voice.

"Don't mistake it for blood purist ideology, mate. House elves are treated like furniture or worse by most families. Your mum likely felt like it was slavery to employ house elves with her muggle morality. If she did, she might have objected to a house elf living with your family, and they would have been bound to a magical property by your grandparents then. They need magic to survive, though. And, not every property can sustain them like Hogwarts can," I explained without any hurry as I looked over everything I needed for the day in my pouch.

"How can I find them, then?"

I pondered for a moment and answered, "I see two options. First, you get Gringotts to tell you where all your properties are and have them read your parents' and grandparents' will. That might trigger a failsafe put in place by Dumbledore, though. The other option is how I found Patrick. You flex your magic and call for all house elves loyal to House Potter... Patrick told me I felt like a beacon to him whenever I did."

"How'd you know to do that living in an orphanage?"

"Luck," I lied easily and left it at that. The fact that it worked was luck, so I wasn't even lying entirely. But I doubted I would share my reincarnated memories even with my future wife, let alone Harry, who I merely began to trust.

"Let's make a wager out of it," I offered as I tried out a charm to tie the shoes I slipped into. "If there's a house elf you can bind to you with that method, I'll dare you to do something. If there isn't, you get one favor from me, no matter what. Keep it to something you'd ask of a 14 year old, though. No asking for my first-born or something like that."

"... deal," Harry eventually agreed. Before my wager, he wasn't entirely sure if I was pulling his leg or not - but now his worries were a little alleviated, which was exactly why I did it.

Plus, I had a pretty good idea what I was going to dare him to do.

"I, Harry James Potter, ask all ho-"

"Mate, do it outside of the Hogwarts wards. Our school has almost a hundred house elves and we don't know what and how much they'll tell the D."

"D?" Harry asked after a moment.

"We could find a more suitable codename, but if we're going to keep talking shite about Dumbledore, I'd rather get in the habit of not saying his name out loud."

"D is still too close. Let's use S. Have you read Lord of The Rings?" Harry suggested after short contemplation.

"S... Sauron or Saruman?"

"Saruman," Harry answered with a grin.

"Nice, fitting codename. And it comes from muggle literature - at least I didn't see any Tolkien works at Flourish and Blotts," I readily praised with a grin. Saruman was, after all, a secret dark lord after getting 'seduced' by Sauron.

"Where'd you manage to read LotR? I kind of doubt your jailers had the book at home from what I understand of them," I asked as we moved toward the common room together.

"... I stole it from the school library," he meekly answered while averting his eyes.

"Anything to survive, Harry. I grew up in an orphanage. I'm no stranger to the thieving ways," I waved away with an easy smile. "I personally read it in the city library - my only escape from the hole I grew up in. I'd have lived there if the matron didn't starve you for staying out past curfew."

"Curfew? What are you talking about?" A voice called out from behind us when we were close to the door outside. "And how are you, Talion? We were worried when you didn't show up for dinner."

"Ah, good morning, Mandy, Hermione," I greeted after turning around. "Where'd you leave the others?"

"They already went ahead," Hermione answered. "Are you okay then?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I forgot the time when I went exploring," I excused.

"You must be hungry then. Let's go," Mandy said and dragged Hermione forward.

"Are you going to the library after breakfast?"

I shook my head at Hermione's question and answered, "There's something I need to do first. I'll be there after lunch, I reckon."

Hermione merely hummed in recognition and stayed quiet.

-----

I cornered the Weasley twins after breakfast despite my better judgment and asked them for a way out of Hogwarts and sold them the information on the Whomping Willow and Shrieking Shack in return.

The shortcut leading to the Hog's Head Inn I knew about just wouldn't cut it because I had no plan to meet Dumbledore's brother. Not now, not ever - unless I wanted to use him to drag down the headmaster even more... but the man was portrayed as stubborn, and I didn't feel like messing with stubborn people.

In any case, Harry and I followed a dusty tunnel starting at the back of a statue towards a storage room at Honey Dukes with the express instruction not to steal anything because the owner of the magical candy shop would know.

I wasn't in the business of stealing anything from there now that I had money and I doubted Harry had any money problems, so without Hogwarts robes and a minor glamor I managed to cast easily thanks to my new understanding on intent at the fifth try, the two of us looked a little younger and entered Hogsmeade. Harry was an easy sell as an eleven year old with his stature, and I thinned myself a little more and looked twelve or thirteen at best. Now, nobody would think we're Hogwarts students out and about without it being a Hogsmeade weekend.

Our first stop was a clothes shop to get a few dress shirts, pants, and underwear tailor-made for Moneybags Potter. After that, we found ourselves on a dirt path leading toward the Shrieking Shack. And wouldn't you know, we were all alone... until seven house elves crying their eyes out after Harry called for them came along.

Since I didn't want to overstay my welcome, I instructed Harry to bond with them on his own and went toward another quiet corner to get an update on Patrick's missions before moving to Hogsmeade to see what the shops had to offer.

The Rita Skeeter mission was on its way. The letter had been typed up and delivered by a pidgeon under compulsion as opposed to a much smarter owl.

And, Spudmore would give Patrick his answer on Friday after a meeting with another investor, the owner of the Quality Quidditch store here in Hogsmeade, who likely hoped to bind the broom-maker to himself for a nice cash-out.

Well, the dude likely had much more money to offer than I and connections since his shop was one of only three in all of Magical Britain to sell quidditch supplies. We would have to see how Spudmore would decide and whether my money was enough.

The Firebolts had a number engraved on the stick. As the third child of prophecy, there was a certain number I therefore wanted on my firebolt. Who knew if I even liked flying, but I still wanted it out of childish desire. Maybe this would be the dealbreaker in the end, but like I said: money was secondary.

Yes, money was power, but it was soft power. I needed unquestionable, hard power for my plans. Magical power. And if my sessions with the talking hat were anything to go by, I would have it. In time.