70

CHAPTER SEVENTY:

It was a regular Saturday afternoon in the Dursley household. Dudley and the freak were off at their respective schools, Petunia was baking the cake for her Saturday tea with the neighboring women, and Vernon was watching television when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it, Vernon," Petunia called out needlessly – it wasn't as though the man ever got the door. Wiping her hands off on her apron, Petunia went to open the door. On her doorstep was a young man in impeccably tailored clothes, and behind him stood the freak, dressed equally well. (She didn't know, of course, that both outfits were temporary transfigurations.)

"Hi, Aunt Petunia," the two visitors said simultaneously, their voices exactly the same but for the slightly lower pitch of the older one. "We'll just invite ourselves in," the older one said, pushing the door open wider and brushing past the bewildered woman. "You coming, Harry?"

"Course I am, Harry," Harry grinned back as he stepped past his aunt. "Aren't you going to close the door, Aunt Petunia?"

The woman closed her mouth and the door with the same audible click. "What's going on here?" she bit out, glaring at the two intruders.

"Oh, nothing much," the older Harry replied. "Is Uncle Vernon home?"

"What are you doing here, boy?" the man in question bellowed from the living room. "If your freak school finally kicked you out then good riddance; you're not welcome here!"

"No, no," the older Harry said conversationally, "Harry wasn't kicked out of school, he and I are just paying you a brief visit and then we hope to never see you again."

"Except maybe in court," the younger Harry amended in the same tone of voice. They hadn't quite decided yet which action to take with the Dursleys; Hames honestly didn't care about the Dursleys anymore, choosing to live his life by the motto 'the best revenge is living well'. Harry, on the other hand, was certainly tempted to get some active revenge for all the years of neglect and abuse that were still so fresh in his memory. The older Harry had eventually said that they'd get the paperwork out of the way first, and then decide – pointing out that if Harry chose to get back at them with magic he'd have to wait until the papers were processed and he was legally allowed to use magic.

"Right," Hames said, still talking conversationally as he pulled a set of papers out of his pocket. "We're here today to have you sign a few papers; after that Harry isn't your responsibility anymore. Here," he handed them to Petunia, "emancipation papers for one Harry James Potter. I already filled in all the necessary information, so all that's needed are your signatures down the bottom of the last page."

Just then the fat man barreled out into the hallway. "What's thi- who are you?" he asked, clearly caught off guard at the sight of the older Harry.

"Hi, Uncle Vernon," Hames greeted him amicably. "I'm Harry from the future. There's two of us now." His grin was decidedly predatory, and Vernon reacted poorly to perceived threats.

"Get out of my house, freak," he spat, his face rapidly turning purple. "There's no place for people like you in our society!"

"I'm not sure about that, uncle," Harry replied. "Harry here is a Lord twice over, and has enough money to buy this house a million times over."

"That's not quite right, Harry," Hames said. "I have enough money to buy all of England, not just a million houses like this one. It's not like this house is very expensive, after all." He smiled amicably at Vernon as he said, "Hey, Harry? What do you think about buying out Grunnings?"

Harry grinned slowly, understanding where his older self was going with this. "How much do you think that would cost? About the contents of my trust vault?"

"You must be joking, Harry," Hames retorted, still without taking his eyes off his uncle. "Try half of what's in your trust vault and you'll be closer to the right sum."

"Enough!" Vernon roared. "Get out of my house!"

"Not just yet," Hames said, leaning casually against the cupboard that was his room for ten years. "We're not leaving till you sign the papers."

"I'll call the police if you don't get out of my house right now, freak!" Vernon was an extremely unappealing shade of purple now, and Harry grimaced as he wiped spittle from his face. Hames merely blinked once, slowly.

"And tell them what?" he asked evenly. "That you're trying to kick your nephew out of the house even though he's your responsibility? I'd wager that the fact that he has emancipation papers with him that would legally allow you to kick him out of your house would not help your case."

Vernon was reduced speechless in impotent rage, and Petunia took the situation into hand. "Get out of my way, freak," she said, pushing both Harrys aside and heading for the kitchen, papers in hand. "I'll sign the papers if it means you get out of our lives and never bother us again." Hames was actually somewhat impressed that she thought to add on that last point.

"Alright," he agreed easily. "If you sign those papers, I'll get out of your life and never bother you again." The small bit of respect she had almost gained fled again when she signed without bothering to extract a serious promise out of the younger Harry – and she didn't even read over the contract before signing. He shot Harry an exasperated look and received a dangerous grin in reply; it seemed his younger self had also recognized that he was free to do anything he wanted and even that his older counterpart hadn't sworn anything, only given his word. Now, Hames had no intention of breaking his word, but he certainly could and would help Harry bother the Dursleys as much as he wished.

Harry (the older) had thought that his respect for the Dursleys had been nonexistent, but it hit negative levels when Vernon signed without reading the contract or arguing over any points – had the businessman somehow forgotten that he was in a position of possible power over a boy he had just learned had huge amounts of money in his trust vault alone? Am I truly related to these idiots? both Harrys wondered when Vernon brandished the papers at them.

"There. Get out of my house!"

"With pleasure," Hames said, giving them a fake smile that made his eyes appear even colder than they had previously. "I'd wish you a good life, but for some reason I don't think you'll have one."

With that the two Harrys turned and left, ignoring the loud insults Vernon was spouting and the shrill words Petunia shrieked as her parting shot. Between the two of them the message was unintelligible anyway.

"Man, they're even more annoying than I had remembered," the older Harry said, tucking the emancipation papers into the inside pocket of his jacket with an expression of distaste. "Thank God you never have to go back there again."

"Yeah," Harry agreed fervently. "Thanks, bro." The last word had both of them grinning again, their annoyance forgotten.

"My pleasure, little brother," Hames returned, the words unusual on his tongue. "Now let's get to Gringotts and file these papers! Then we can turn to the serious, serious topic of Lordship," he grinned at his younger self.

"Hah," Harry grinned back. "That didn't sound serious at all!"

The older Harry carefully schooled his expression. "I'll have you know that I am perfectly capable of being serious," he said snootily, turning up his nose at his younger self for maximum effect but ending up grinning at Harry's giggles.

"Alright, off to Gringotts," he said, grabbing Harry's arm and apparating them away.