Chapter 10- The Leaky Cauldron(part 2)

Harry brightened, and latched onto that thought at once. Generally, when Ron wrote extending an invitation for Harry to come stay at the Burrow, he did so in advance, and he always let Harry know when his family would be coming. All he had to do was write back straightaway, and insist on making his own way to the Burrow, or maybe arrange to meet the Weasleys here at the Leaky Cauldron instead of Privet Drive. He could say the Dursleys refused to allow the Weasleys to come by because of Fred and George's prank. This could work! It wasn't like anyone regularly popped 'round to check on him. He'd never be missed. All he had to do now was sort out a few practical, long-term problems.

The Dursleys hadn't gone out of their way for him, and had insisted that he do any number of chores to "earn his keep," but they had given him food, clothing, and shelter. He might not have lived in the lap of luxury, but he'd had life's necessities, and all it had cost him was a little sweat and a lot of aggravation.

It could be worse, really, the teen admitted to himself. Much worse. He might be abandoned and alone, but he wasn't completely without resources. Harry had never bothered to tell his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about his inheritance. Hagrid had given him the key to what was now his Gringott's vault on his eleventh birthday. Inside, he discovered his parents had left him a sizable pile of wizarding money. Harry had been using it to pay for his school expenses ever since, because Uncle Vernon had refused to finance his magical education.

Everything had been going smoothly. Except for his impromptu "vacation" summer before third year, the boy had never had any opportunities for impulse purchases. Even then, he had been cautious, exercising a lot of self control, and learning the basics of money management.

Now, in addition to his usual school supplies, he was looking at the cost of lodging, clothing, food, new glasses, transportation, any necessary medical expenses, and heaven only knew what else, this summer, next summer, and for the rest of his life! With a start, Harry realized he didn't even know if he was in trouble or not. He had no idea how much those things cost, though if Vernon's carrying on was to be believed, it was a lot. He also had no idea how much money was in his vault. How did the wizard bank work? Did Gringott's charge fees and pay interest like muggle banks? Harry had no clue. Before now, it hadn't been an issue.

The cost of a year at Hogwarts barely seemed to make a dent in the piles of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. Harry had reckoned he had enough to pay for school, support himself after graduation while he got himself established, and still have loads left over. He had whiled away many lonely hours at Privet Drive dreaming about what he would like to do when he finally left forever. If he didn't start working right away, it might be fun to take a little time off, or attend university, or travel. He'd once jokingly considered going to Brazil, and looking up his friend, the boa constrictor.

Not much chance of that now.

A knock at his door made Harry look up sharply. He watched uncertainly, as the door opened slightly, and Tom poked his head in. "Good day, Mr. Potter," he said pleasantly. "Sorry to disturb you, but I usually tidy up about now."

"Hello, Tom, and it's Harry, please."

Tom nodded, and looked the boy over. He seemed better than last night, rested, anyway, but he was practically vibrating with tension and worry, and he looked extremely skittish.

Harry watched idly as Tom inspected the room. There wasn't really anything to be done, except make the bed. Obligingly, he rose and stood off to the side, while Tom cast a bed-making charm and a few dust banishing charms. "Thank you," he said quietly, as the old wizard finished. "And thanks for taking care of me last night."

"That's part of my job, Harry," Tom grinned. "It's always a pleasure having you stay here."

The boy looked up at him, a kind of wounded disbelief in his expressive green eyes. "Really?" he asked, sounding ridiculously uncertain. "I mean, I thought with all the rubbish in the Daily Prophet...and things...I wasn't sure if I'd be welcome."

Tom went over to stand in front of the boy, and looked down at him, amazed. For the first time since he'd been brought back to the wizard community, Harry Potter had sounded like the child he was, and not the fabled "Boy-Who-Lived." Tom had suspected something was amiss the night before, but Harry had been dead on his feet, so he hadn't pressed for details. Now that he was certain his suspicions were correct, and hastened to reassure the boy. Perhaps it was something he could help with.

Guessing what was likely causing the youth the most distress, he didn't respond directly to Harry's stuttered confession, but mentioned casually instead, "You know, Hagrid stopped by to see me before he left on his errand for Dumbledore."

Harry didn't say anything, but he raised a questioning eyebrow. Tom, seeing he had the boy's attention, continued. "Hagrid told me about the TriWizard Tournament, and You-Know-Who," he said, almost grinning at Harry's dumbstruck expression. "He asked me to keep my eyes and ears open, and report anything interesting to your headmaster." This time the boy's reaction surprised him. Surely that wasn't fear he saw?

"Are you going to tell him I'm here?"

Tom was startled by the tremulous query. "Why don't you tell me what happened first," he suggested reasonably.

Harry didn't answer immediately, but instead met Tom's gaze for a moment, making the older wizard feel oddly exposed. Evidently the boy found what he was looking for, because after a moment he nodded, and relaxed a bit. Haltingly at first, then with more speed, the teen began to verbalize what had happened the night before, and some of the concerns he'd been thinking of since awakening. To Harry's dismay, he told a lot more than he intended, but once he got started, the story just came pouring out. Tom's experience as a bartender showed clearly as the boy's tale unfolded. He knew when to gently prompt, when to ask questions, and when to simply sit and listen.

He did take offense at Harry's worries about Dumbledore, though, and gently chided the boy. "Harry, you don't honestly believe that Albus Dumbledore would be daft enough to put you back with those horrid muggles after they abandoned you, do you?"

Harry had shrugged, and studied the carpet a minute before mumbling, "I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't know what to do."

Tom studied the boy intently for a moment, before relenting. "I'll make you a deal, Harry," he finally stated, making the younger wizard look up in surprise. "You've had a shock, and I understand that you probably want a little time to yourself, so I won't tell Dumbledore you're here-" He stopped and held up a cautioning hand when Harry broke into a relieved grin. "I won't tell him you're here, yet. I do expect you to contact Professor Dumbledore, and your friends, but you can get yourself sorted out first. Fair enough?"

Harry considered this for a minute, then nodded reluctantly.

"Excellent!" Tom said brightly, clapping Harry on the shoulder. He chuckled when the boy's stomach announced that it was empty. Harry flushed slightly, then shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Perhaps you'd care for a late lunch," Tom offered kindly, "or at least a snack before dinner?"

Harry's smile became more genuine. "Yes, please. Can I bring Hedwig, too?"

"Very well," Tom motioned for the teen to follow him. "Let's head down to the kitchen. After you've finished, we'll get you checked in, and logged in the register."

Harry nodded absently, pausing to step into his shoes, and wake his sleeping owl before following Tom downstairs. Hedwig hooted happily from her perch on his shoulder when the old wizard disappeared into the kitchen, and returned a few minutes later with a light meal for Harry and herself. When Tom placed the food on the table, she fluttered off of Harry's shoulder, and both attacked their meals with gusto.

Tom watched curiously as his old calico cat approached the table. Patches was a very loyal creature, but not noticeably friendly to strangers. He was therefore completely amazed when the feline casually jumped into the boy's lap, curled up, and began to purr. Harry smiled softly, his hand moving automatically the stroke her soft coat.

There was a brief "argument" when Hedwig took offense at the attention her master was paying the other animal, but Harry got it sorted out. Tom smiled gently. He hadn't been concerned, but if he'd had even the smallest doubt about Harry's mental state, it would have been gone now. Patches was an absolute authority on human character. If she was that content in the boy's company, he certainly had nothing to fear from Harry Potter.

When the Gryffindor finished eating he amiably followed Tom over to the guest register. He accepted Tom's handsome eagle quill, with a quiet 'thanks,' and dipped it into the inkwell. Tom waited expectantly, then frowned when Harry froze and blanched. "Harry?" he questioned uncertainly. "Harry, lad, what's wrong?"

Jerkily, the boy turned to face the innkeeper. "What am I thinking?! I can't stay here!" he exclaimed, looking extremely wild around the eyes. "This is the first place anyone would look." Harry indicated the guest log which was openly displayed for the world to see. "All they'd have to do is check the register!"

Tom held his hands in front of him, and made little pacifying gestures in an attempt to calm the boy down. "Harry, HARRY!" he barked, when Potter's green eyes began to glaze over, and it became obvious he was considering flight. "You can't just go running off like this! Where will you go? Where will you stay?"

"I...I don't know," the boy admitted, the wind knocked from his sails. He gathered himself with visible effort, then faced Tom anxiously. "Maybe I can find a place in muggle London. See if I can get a job. Do you reckon I could leave my trunk here while I go look? Do you know if there are rules against owls? And how much do I owe you for last night?" he asked in a rush.

Tom thought quickly. The boy was obviously still distraught. All things considered, it was amazing he was thinking as clearly as he was. However, Tom had no intention of leaving the boy hero of the wizarding world to his own devices, and letting him disappear into muggle London. He eyed the boy speculatively. He was a little thing, but he had more than his share of determination and spirit. "Come with me, Harry," he said finally, grasping the boy's shoulder and steering him toward the kitchen. "I want to show you something."

Harry followed unprotesting, as Tom guided him across the kitchen, through a door, and up a narrow stairway. When they finally stopped he was in a small room above the kitchen. Harry looked around curiously. The room obviously hadn't been used in years. A thick layer of dust covered everything. It wasn't as fancy as the room he'd slept in last night, but it was comfortably furnished, and had an attached half bath.

"This was my room when I first started the old place," Tom reminisced fondly. "I added on a suite of rooms when I married, and I stay there now." He gave the boy another appraising look. "There's always more to do around here than one body can manage. If you're willing, you could stay here, and help out around the old place. You won't be a guest, so you won't sign the register. You can earn the use of this room, and any meals you care to have. If you earn more than that in a day, I can pay you, or extend you credit." Tom paused a moment, then prodded, "You'd be doing me a huge favor. What do you say?"

Harry didn't answer immediately, but Tom saw the determined gleam in his eyes. "You're the one doing me the favor," he finally stated with a grateful smile. "What do you want me to do first?"

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