Liberation

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works, if you recognise it from somewhere else, surprise it isn't mine.

Betad by morde24, Atrius, Hermes, Priapus, Marethyu, Old man of the mountain and TheDonFluffles

Chapter 01: Liberation

"I'm telling you, something about this tastes… odd. You didn't do anything freakish to the food, did you boy?" Vernon asks, making me forcibly stop myself from rolling my eyes.

"No, Uncle Vernon. I wouldn't mess with the food I was going to be eating as well," I say calmly. "You did the grocery shopping at a different store this time, maybe there was something wrong with the herbs they had," I reason, making him narrow his eyes, muttering something rather impolite about the foreigners who ran the new shop that had opened up in the neighbourhood.

"Well we won't be going back there then, I knew we shouldn't have tried it out just because it was closer," Vernon grumbles. "Better to spend some time driving to a proper English shop than get sold dodgy herbs."

Yup, I can always count on Vernon's willingness to hate anything that isn't proper and English. It's definitely those dodgy foreign herbs, not the spit in their meals.

I've been dealing with these idiots for thirteen long years, I know what I can get away with at this point.

Plus, with them going to their old store, they'll be out of the house for a good extra half an hour a week, which is a good thing for me since they'd never take me with them.

It's funny, they actually shot themselves in the foot by telling everyone I was some scruffy delinquent because now they're embarrassed to be seen out and about with me, so focused on their image.

It means that they tend to distance themselves from me, especially in public. I'm just their delinquent nephew they took in and stuffed into the cupboard beneath the stairs out of the kindness of their heart.

They're definitely not good guardians, but they could be worse I suppose. They're more neglectful than actually abusive, and if they'd let me move out of the cupboard into a proper bedroom I wouldn't even care.

I've outgrown that 'room', and I've heard them talking about giving me Dudley's second room when they think I'm not listening. I think they even feel a little guilty.

Sure, I get the majority of the chores but as long as they're done, I can more or less do what I want for the rest of the day.

I definitely get food, because I'm the one who cooks it, and even they wouldn't make me cook a meal just to tell me I can't have any myself. Aunt Petunia can barely cook, and I think Vernon is almost grateful I'm around to do the cooking after I got sick a couple of years ago and they had to handle the cooking themselves.

They're not physically abusive, aside from the occasional attempt when Vernon has had a little too much scotch, but he's fat and slow. A blind, crippled cow could avoid his half-hearted swings.

Still, I don't plan to stay here. I have no affection for these three idiots and they have none for me. I even have a plan for how I'm going to get out of here.

Dudley is an idiot, an idiot with an overly large allowance. The first time he lost a wallet, I naturally got blamed because their perfect son could never misplace anything.

But no amount of searching made the wallet appear, and when Dudley found it in his friend Piers' house, Dudley reasonably beat Piers' scrawny little ass.

Piers' leaves his door unlocked, and his parents are out most of the day. I didn't really expect much to come of me dropping the evidence in Piers' bedroom, just a bit of revenge for his part in Dudley's 'Harry Hunting'.

Piers' insisted he was innocent, Dudley is as stubborn as he is stupid and sees Piers as a theif and their friend group split apart.

When Dudley's second wallet vanished, my name didn't even come up. It's not like my little reappropriation even inconveniences Dudders because he just whines to his parents who immediately give him more money. It's just my allowance that I have to work a little harder for.

At this point I've got quite the nest egg squirrelled away, in the house no less. Dudley's second room is packed with the things he owns but has either broken or has grown bored of, all gathering dust.

Petunia makes me clean it every so often, which means they've never noticed the small box from one of Dudley's old toys that's sitting in the cabinet is full of money instead of a broken toy.

Once dinner is finished and I've cleaned the pots, because God forbid they clean up after themselves, I slip out of the house without them even giving me a second glance.

One day, in the admittedly distant future, I'll buy a train ticket and get far away from this shithole, where nobody knows my name so I can start again.

I need to be old enough to get a job, even if it's just low wage manual labour, and I want to save up for a cheap motel while I look for work as well.

But I handled this place for thirteen years, I can handle it for a few more years.

Then I'll be free from this personal hell of cookie-cutter houses, snobby assholes and endless, thankless chores.

— Next Morning —

The monotony of my life found a brief reprieve as I collected the mail, pausing at one letter in particular.

Mr H.Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

A letter for me?

That's new… and the fact that they addressed it to the very place I sleep is suspicious, especially because the Dursley's would never tell anyone that they were making me sleep in a cramped cupboard.

Still, I know one thing… I'm not telling my family about it. It's none of their business and I suspect Vernon would take it away out of paranoia.

As I walk past my room, I slip the letter through the crack and move on, handing over the rest of the letters to Vernon before excusing myself to do the gardening.

They're creatures of habit, which means I can predict what all three of them will do on any day of the week.

Vernon will watch the news, Petunia will join him while also indulging in her favourite hobby of people watching, while Dudley will head out to meet his friends.

So, grabbing my letter and heading to the back garden where they won't be able to see me, I open it up and start reading, blinking in confusion.

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Is this supposed to be funny? Maybe it's a prank but who would bother? Dudley? No, it's too elaborate for him and there's not enough spelling mistakes for Big D to be the culprit.

The Dursley's hate magic, once I got punished for watching Disney's The Sword in the Stone because it had magic in it, they hate anything that has fantasy elements…

But things have happened that I can't explain, suddenly finding myself in a different place, the snake I could talk to at the Zoo (and Dudley falling through the glass and getting trapped inside).

It has an equipment list, which is predictably nonsensical, telling me to get things like a wand, cauldron robes, quills, dragon-hide gloves and of course plenty of spellbooks.

It also says they'll await my owl, but where the fuck am I supposed get an owl-

'Hoot.'

Blinking, I turn to the garden fence where a brown owl is perched, wide awake and staring at me despite it being daytime.

You have got to be shitting me.

"Am I supposed to give you my response?" I ask, despite feeling stupid as I talk to a bird.

'Hoot.' the owl helpfully responds, making me chuckle.

"Yeah, that's about what I expected," I say, reading over the letter once more as I frown.

It sounds nonsensical, but too much in my life would make a lot more sense if magic was real, and what's the harm in trying?

Slipping back upstairs, I grab some paper and a pen, my summer homework is already done but I still have plenty of supplies as I write a very polite response to this 'Minerva McGonagall' that basically says 'what the fuck are you talking about' with many more words.

Folding it up, I head back to the garden and approach the owl, watching the owl immediately hold out its leg.

I don't have anything to attach the letter to its leg, but the owl adapts as I simply clutches the letter in its talon and flies away.

Well, I hope it knows where it's going because I sure as fuck don't. Good luck, random bird!

Worst case scenario, my letter ends up as the lining of a nest, best case I might actually get some answers to questions I've had for a long time.

— Albus Dumbledore —

"He didn't mean anything by it, just got a bit carried away with his roughhousing," Hagrid said, making almost everyone who heard him roll their eyes as Poppy looked over the vicious wound on his chest.

If Hagrid wasn't half-giant, he'd be dead from Fluffy's attack, the Cerberus having taken offence to something Hagrid had done.

He briefly reconsidered using it as a guard, before shaking his head. After all, its ferocity was the reason it was chosen to guard the Philosopher's stone, so he'd simply increase the defences on the corridor itself so no students stumbled across it.

This had come at an inopportune time however, as he had hoped to send Hagrid to take Harry to Diagon Alley.

Minerva had been rather displeased when she got a response from him, showing that Harry didn't know about his heritage or magic, and hadn't even consulted him before replying and agreeing to arrange for someone to take Harry to Diagon Alley.

Minerva was too busy arranging things for

new school year to do it herself and while he had hoped to send Hagrid to do it, Poppy insisted that even Hagrid would need a few days to recover from the wound.

Hagrid would have been ideal for the trip, his jovial nature and former friendship with Harry's parents would make for a smoother introduction to the magical world, putting young Harry at ease.

He'd also make a good example of how human the 'non-human' side of the magical world could be, but alas it was not to be.

He himself was equally busy or he'd take Harry himself, but he could spare a teacher for a few hours to take Harry to Diagon Alley, much like they would any Muggleborn student.

It was a shame that the Dursley's decided to keep the truth from Harry, though unsurprising as Petunia had always been envious of her sister's gift.

From the letter, Harry seemed like a bright, polite young man with an open mind so clearly it hadn't been too bad there.

— Harry Potter —

If this is a prank, it's about to come to a head.

I considered telling Vernon at this point, but as I learnt more from my correspondence with 'Professor McGonagall', an idea struck.

A fiendish scheme of sorts, to get back at the Dursley's for their neglect and disdain over the years.

So I made sure to arrange for someone to come and take me to get my school supplies on a day I knew there'd be no one in.

It was rather easy, Vernon and Dudley are big fans of football, so I just picked a day there would be a game at the local stadium.

Petunia had plans to have tea with some of the other neighbourhood wives where they'll all gossip for hours, which means I'm left alone as my guide arrives.

Whatever doubts I had about magic being real vanish before my eyes as a brunette woman with grey eyes around Petunia's age literally appears in the back garden at the appointed time, dispelling my scepticism as she teleports in.

She's wearing a somewhat form-fitting grey robe, and a large pointy matching hat which makes my lips briefly twitch in amusement. Rather cliche, isn't it?

Well, I suppose the cliches had to start somewhere so it's more likely that the stereotype came after. Clearly a 'muggle', as I've learnt non-magical are called, learnt about witches and wizards some time far in the past.

"Ah, Mr Potter?" she says, making me nod. I can't help but notice as her eyes flicker towards the scar on the top of my head, eyes widening briefly before she schools herself.

"That's me, I take it you're Professor Vector?" I ask, making her smile.

"I am, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, are your guardians not joining us?" Septima Vector asks, making me smile.

"They're preoccupied, so it's just me," I agree, moving forwards.

"I see, well then, let's not waste any time. Take my arm and I'll apparate us to Diagon Alley, oh, of course. Apparition is a form of magical transport, but you'll learn about that in your sixth year," Sepima says as I approach, taking the offered arm.

My disappointment at how long it would take must have shown as she giggles slightly.

"Apparition is rather advanced magic, we can't risk people younger than that trying to learn it, after all, nobody wants to leave a limb behind," Septima says, killing any and all plans to try and learn how to teleport faster before they could take root.

"Ah, but that's not a problem now, is it?" I ask, making her chuckle.

"No, Mr Potter, I'm more than capable of apparating us without leaving any bits or pieces behind, this will probably feel a little uncomfortable but it's perfectly safe," Septima says, and before I can respond she moves and a sudden squeezing sensation silences my response, making me gasp as the ground beneath my feet briefly vanishes before it reappears, our surroundings changed as I look around the dirty alleyway we've appeared in. "See? Perfectly safe. Now, follow me, this alleyway is charmed to stop muggles from coming in or looking into it so people can apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, which is the front for Diagon Alley, the main shopping district in England."

There's spells that can just make muggles, such as my uncle, from even acknowledging something exists? Well, colour me intrigued.

Professor Vector gives me some history and information as we leave the alleyway and towards the rather run-down pub that the locals seem to ignore, and as we enter, I can almost hear the hushed silence as a dozen pairs of eyes turn towards me.

Everyone is dressed in robes, except oddly enough a short… man with a long crooked nose and pointed ears, who is wearing a suit instead.

"Is that… Harry Potter?" someone says in a loud whisper, but Septima just leads us straight through the bar and into a back room, where she pulls out a long black wand.

I pictured wands looking like crooked sticks, but that image dies as she taps the sleek, elegant black wand against the wall, making the wall fold away revealing a bustling alleyway.

Now this? This looks far more magical than the pub.

"First things first, Gringotts. Here's your vault key," Septima says, producing a small golden key.

"Why did you have it? Is that normal?" I ask as I take it, making her smile.

"I was given in by Professor Dumbledore, who is your magical guardian. He's the legal guardian of all Hogwarts students who don't have a magical relative, of course most of them are Muggleborns so they wouldn't have a vault," Septima explains as we walk to the elegant marble building, a pair of what are apparently Goblins standing by the doors, armoured with axes.

She sees me looking at the armoured figures who glare at everything that moves, giving an awkward smile.

"They recently had an attempted break-in, and some goblins were killed so things are a little tense at the moment, you won't have any trouble however. Would you like me to come with you, or would you prefer to explore on your own? As long as you don't leave the alleyway, I don't mind letting you go your own way. We can meet up at the Cauldron when it's time to leave," Septima offers, making me smile.

"I'd like that, no offence," I say, making her chuckle.

"You're a teenage boy, I'd be more surprised if you didn't want to wander off on your own. You have your list? If you need anything, I'll either be in Flourish and Blotts, or the Leaky Cauldron," Septima says with a reassuring smile.

Huh, I didn't expect her to actually just let me wander off on my own, but I appreciate her not trying to hold my hand.

Parting ways, I find myself in the line at Gringotts, enjoying my first experience with bank queues as I patiently wait and listen to the not so hushed whispers about me.

I appear to be a celebrity, which would be interesting if I had a clue what I did to get such awe and attention. The term 'boy-who-lived' gets thrown around and some people even come into the bank just to see me, though the goblins quickly demonstrate how little they appreciate that.

As I get to the front, the goblin stares at me from his raised platform for a moment before he speaks.

"State your name and business," he says, not overly friendly but I suppose they're all on edge. Or he's just an asshole, he is a banker.

"Harry Potter, I'd like a summary of my account and to make a withdrawal," I say, making his eyebrow raise as I hold up my key.

"I see," he says simply after a moment before turning and speaking to another goblin in a language I don't understand, watching the other goblin leave. "Take a seat, Mr Potter."

While I might have some mysterious fame, the goblins clearly don't care as he moves onto the next customer without another word to me, leaving me waiting for a few minutes before the second goblin returns.

"Follow me," he says, barely waiting for me to react before he turns and heads back through a door, leaving me scrambling to catch up.

The bank is a maze of twisting corridors, and I could have sworn we go around in a circle at one point but we eventually arrive at a door, making him stop.

"Your account manager will see you now," he says, making me smile as he immediately leaves. I can respect how little time these guys seem to have for small talk, knocking on the door and entering as I hear a call to come in.

"Take a seat, Mr Potter," the goblin at the desk says, a plaque labelling him 'Karrak, Senior Account Manager' as he places two items in front of me, making me blink. "Before we begin, please cut your finger with this blade and bleed onto the stone to prove your identity, the blade is enchanted and the wound will heal quickly."

Well, that's new.

"I don't suppose the key proves anything?" I ask, making him snort.

"The key gives you access to the vault it's linked to, your identity is irrelevant because anyone could access the vault as long as they have the key. You are the seventh person to claim to be 'Harry Potter' in the last month," Karrak says bluntly, making me blink.

Why would people be pretending to be me?

Biting the bullet, I take the blade and cut my pinky finger slightly, surprised at the lack of pain as a drop of blood strikes the stone, making it glow even as my wound closes.

"Well, well. It appears you are who you claim to be, Mr Potter. A pleasant surprise, cleaning up the remains of the frauds is always mildly annoying. Very well, here is your copy of your account summary, something you should have already been getting through the mail," Karrak says, making me narrow my eyes.

"I've never received any mail from Gringotts, or the magical world at all before my Hogwarts letter," I say, making him shrug.

"The letters were sent, the enchantment confirmed they were received by an authorised reader. If you do not have them, your magical guardian does. It is not Gringotts concern once they are properly received," Karrak says, which seems to be Banker for 'sucks to be you'.

Reading through them, I seem to have three vaults. The Potter family vault, the Black family vault and 'Harry's School Vault', which I find out is what my key is for.

The school vault is rather simple, it has one thousand galleons in it and is refilled to one thousand at the end of the school year.

It doesn't matter if I take out a single knut, which seems to be the lowest form of currency, or I empty it entirely, it will always be filled back up to the same amount.

The family vaults are both far more complicated, the Black vault is an almost indecipherable mess of connections, payments both in and out, and a massive list of items that are currently inside the vault.

Apparently I gained access to it because my Godfather, Sirius Black, named me as his heir which was accepted by his grandfather, the then Lord Black, because I am a Black by blood, on my grandmother's side. What happened to him is a mystery but I assume he isn't around anymore.

I can't understand this, especially since most of the items are either vague or use terminology I don't understand.

Putting that aside for now, I turn to the Potter vault with a frown.

It also has a bunch of payments coming in and out. Starting with the incoming, it seems to be mostly rent from buildings owned by the Potters, payments from businesses my family either own outright or have a share in, but it's the outgoing that really gets my attention.

Several regular payments that seem to be charity payments, including a large payment to both the 'Auror Division of the Ministry of Magic' and 'St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries'.

I leave them be, but a single line sends a brief burst of rage through me as I read it.

Two hundred galleons (converted from galleons into muggle currency) is being deposited into the bank of Vernon Dursley every month as part of a payment set up for whoever took me in, arranged as a just in case by my parents who apparently were either paranoid or had a reason to fear for their lives.

The exchange rate puts that at around a thousand pounds, an easy grand that Vernon has been pocketing while telling me how much of a deadweight I am and how grateful I should be that he is willing to put a roof over my head.

That lying bastard.

"Can I cancel this payment even if I don't have the key?" I ask, making the goblin nod.

"You are the primary account holder," Karrak confirms in a bored tone. "If you would like your former key to be recovered and a new one to be made, that can be done for a modest fee of fifty galleons."

"Please do that, for all keys. I don't want any copies to exist beyond mine," I say, making him idly write a note and send it flying through the bank. "And cancel the payments to Vernon Dursley, starting with September."

I won't be there when they realise, since I'll be at Hogwarts. It's a shame I won't get to watch the fireworks but already my plans for some ironic revenge is forming in the back of my head

I don't particularly trust this Dumbledore, he's apparently my guardian and the headmaster of Hogwarts but I've never seen him and surely the fact that my letter was addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs' should have drawn his attention.

"Has anyone accessed my vaults since my parents' deaths?" I ask, ignoring the brief pang of pain at the thought of my parents.

James and Lily Potter, both died on the same day and almost certainly not in a drunken car crash as I'd been told all my life.

"Albus Dumbledore has accessed the Potter vault three times over the years. The first visit he placed an unidentified item inside the vault, the second time he retrieved several books, and the final time he returned the books he previously extracted," Karrak rattles off, making me relax slightly. "No one else has touched your vaults, despite repeated attempts to gain access or claim them."

I wasn't robbed, so that's nice. People have been trying to rob me though, which is less nice.

"I'd like to withdraw a thousand galleons from the school account," I say finally, watching him send off another note.

I have no idea how much things cost, so I might as well take out the entire account and see how much I have left.

Plus, I kinda like having a small fortune in my hands, at least compared to the scraps I've stolen from Dudley.

"Is that everything?" Karrak asks, making me go to nod before I pause.

"Is there another way to identify myself or am I going to have to cut myself every time?" I ask, making him almost sigh in annoyance.

"As the heir, you should have the ring that can be used to identify yourself. If your guardian has not deemed fit to grant it to you, either take it up with them or your Ministry," Karrak says bluntly.

Fair enough.

"Then that's everything for now," I say, making him nod.

"A goblin with your keys and a mokeskin pouch with your money is waiting for you outside, and will lead you back to the entrance. Have a good day, Mr Potter," he says, not looking up from the paperwork he's been working on this entire time.

Taking the hint, I leave and as he said, I'm immediately handed two keys and a pouch, following the goblin back out.

They're efficient if nothing else, which works for me.

Ignoring the looks as I leave the bank, I decide to start my shopping with my wand. Because I want to be able to say I have a wand.

— Later —

So, the wand seller is apparently as creepy as he is weird, but after what seems like hours and some vague warning about great and terrible things, I've finally got a wand.

An 11" long, maple wand with a phoenix feather as a core.

As cliche as it sounds, the moment I touched it I knew it was made for me, a happy tingle moving through my entire body as I held it in my hand.

I ended up buying a wand maintenance kit and a sheath which straps to my wrist for it as well, keeping it nice and safe and hidden as long as I wear something with long sleeves.

Such as my new robes, which are going to take some getting used to.

Fortunately, as my purchases started piling up, the wizarding world has a solution for that with trunks that can shrink themselves and weigh a fraction of the actual weight.

It's odd to think I've got so much currently sitting in my pocket, but I suppose when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

It seems that deprecated exposure has made the shock start to wear off, as people start to approach me, often just wanting to shake my hand and thank me, for what I haven't got a clue but I have no reason to refuse.

Not yet anyway, but it's already starting to get annoying as they're simply getting in the way as I continue my shopping, to the point I consider going and getting Septima but I dislike relying on others.

My book shopping furthers the mystery, as I find an entire row of children's books with my name on it, apparently detailing my magical adventures with dragons, fairies, Atlantis and Merlin himself.

I do however find a book that's a little more factual, simply titled 'Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived'.

Adding it to my selection, I excuse myself from another fan and pay for my books, adding them to my trunk.

Picking up a few more items, I consider not getting a pet because it would be much harder to hide from the Dursleys, but speaking with the shop owner it seems like I'm not the first with this problem.

Owls as pets aren't common in the muggle world, so while it doesn't necessarily prove anything it can attract attention.

So they came up with a simple solution. I can buy an owl and pay them to hold onto it until I start Hogwarts, when they'll send it to me by sending me a letter for it to carry to me.

Owls seem to be the main form of communication here, and I don't want to be without one, so I pick a rather beautiful snowy owl.

I picked her because she bit some idiot who had basically screamed and pointed at me when I entered while he was standing next to her, and that amused me.

She didn't have any problem with me stroking her and definitely didn't mind the treats, so it'll be fine as long as I don't screech next to her.

Making the arrangements for her to be sent to me later, I head back to the Cauldron. I considered doing some more exploration and window shopping but the attention is starting to annoy me. This better not continue being a thing once I get to school, as I don't particularly like being the centre of attention.

Though that said… celebrities get girls, right? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be the local celebrity, just something to consider.

"All done?" Septima asks, spotting me heading back to her as she talks to another witch. "I thought you'd be longer, to be honest."

"I was going to be, but certain… issues made me reconsider," I say, glancing over to a pair of wizards who are loudly talking about me.

"Ah, yes I can see why that might have been a bit annoying, perhaps I shouldn't have left you alone," Septima says, making me shake my head.

"No, it was fine but I'd like to get back home now," I say calmly, making her smile and finish her drink, giving a farewell to the other woman.

She doesn't seem drunk and I doubt she'd drink on the job, so it's almost definitely non-alcoholic.

Before she apparates us back, I convince her to drop me off a small distance away from my home, telling her that my relatives don't like magic and don't want to see it which gets a look of sympathy from her as she drops me off in a local park, our position mostly secluded by bushes and trees.

Thanking her for taking me, I watch her leave and head back to the Dursleys, the new information I've learnt about just how much of a deadweight I really am swimming in my skull.

— Later —

A part of me wanted to confront them, to call them out for their utter bullshit, but no.

I let the next month pass by without so much as a word to them about what I know, reading up on my new books when I get a chance.

I've learnt exactly what I'm famous for, because apparently I'm not just a wizard, I'm a fucking Hero, with a dark lord slain before I was even out of diapers.

The book I bought explained some of the popular theories on how I, armed with just a rattle, slew He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, armed with presumably more than a rattle, but the theories basically amounted to things like 'Harry is the reincarnated Merlin' to 'Magic itself protected him', so I'm not exactly going to place a lot of trust in them.

What I have confirmed is that my parents were fighting a Dark Lord, Sirius Black told the Dark Lord where they were hiding, resulting in him killing both of them and attempting to kill me, and then he was dead. Go me!

Sirius Black went mad with his master's death, killed a lot of people and he's now locked away in Azkaban, a very high security prison for magical criminals, which does explain why he didn't raise me.

Probably for the best, the Dursley's are lying shitstains but at least they aren't raving lunatics who serve a Dark Lord.

When the end of the month came, I simply packed my things and left. I looked up the road name I saw the Leaky Cauldron on and I've also worked out how to get there from the train station so I just left without a word.

I'll get a room at the Leaky Cauldron (something I made sure was possible before I left Diagon Alley) for the next couple of nights, then go to Hogwarts without even bothering to tell the Dursleys where I've gone.

Arriving at my stop, I get off the train with a smile. I never plan to step foot in Privet Drive again, but that doesn't mean I'm done with them.

They've enjoyed an easy life, at my expense, so it's only fair I make things a little more uncomfortable for them.

It's a fair walk to the Leaky Cauldron, but this time I thought ahead and actually wore a baseball cap, since people seemed to recognise me by my scar.

It was an interesting experience but it got old quickly and I'd rather not have to deal with it for the next few days while I wait for the school year to start.

The longer I can stay incognito the better, for the sake of my own sanity if nothing else.

My plan more or less works as I rent a room for the next few days, I'm guessing because people think I'm just a muggleborn student thanks to my style of dress.

That works for me, and the room is certainly nicer than what I had at the Dursleys.

Maybe I'll even give Diagon Alley another try tomorrow, hopefully either people won't recognise me or the shock will have worn off.

— Next Day —

The Potter Vault is truly massive, and loaded with countless items I can't begin to identify.

Apparently I'm from a very rich family, given the sheer size of my vault and the seemingly endless mountains of gold.

I feel like Scrooge McDuck, but I don't think I'll be trying to swim in it.

I'm not dumb enough to mess with magical artifacts when I don't know what they do, I had hoped to try and work out what this Dumbledore had placed inside the vault but the goblins aren't any help and there's just too much in here for me to work out what is out of place.

Seeing a glint of something blue out of the corner of my eye, I turn just in time to spot a translucent figure, shimmering with blue light, walking behind one of the piles of gold.

Err, what?

Okay, let me readjust my former statement because I apparently am that dumb as I move around the gold and spot the same figure moving deeper into the vault. This seems suspicious as fuck, but honestly I'm too damn curious to ignore it as I follow it further in.

It's impossible to work out whether the figure is male or female, and they don't have any identifying features, just a glowing blue humanoid figure that seems to warp and shift as they move deeper.

I should probably not follow them, but I've never been one to shy away from a good mystery.

Eventually, it reaches where it wants me to be, pointing a hand towards a pile of gold for a moment before it vanishes as I approach, fading away.

Frowning, I go to the gold and start to sift through it, and it doesn't take long before I reach what I can only presume it wanted me to find as my hand bumps against something that I can't see.

The moment I touch the invisible object, it shimmers into view as whatever spell was hiding it ceases to exist.

Buried in the mound of golden coins is a tome bound in a dark purple leather, golden lettering in an elegant script titling it 'The Art of Illusions'.

It doesn't have a credited author, and opening it up reveals pages of a completely illegible script that seems to shift and warp as I try and read it, diagrams and symbols that I can't begin to decipher, but somehow I feel like I need to take this.

Maybe it's the sheer arcane nature of it or because I found it in my family vault, but something in the swirling words and symbols calls to me, I feel like I was guided to this for a reason.

Taking it with me, I leave the vault with my new tome under my arm and head back to my room, ignoring the occasional glance thrown my way.

Apparently the local newspaper, the Daily Prophet, did a front page on my return to the magical world, with pictures, so my face is out there.

I did buy a pair of new glasses, enchanted to be far more fitting than my old pair, and I took a trip into London to replace my baggy clothes with a wardrobe that actually fits and wasn't worn by a land whale, so I suppose I don't quite match the pictures they have of me.

Not that it matters, as tomorrow I'll be heading to Kings Cross station, platform nine and three quarters and heading to my new school.

Heading back up to my room, I order some food and open the book again, trying to make sense of the patterns and script, almost sure I can make out a word or sentence here and there.

— Ron Weasley, Next Day —

Moving through the train in an attempt to put distance between himself and the twins, not because he necessarily thought they were already after him but just as a precautionary measure.

They'd spent all summer trying to avoid getting into trouble with their mom, so now that they were free once again they were bound to be a massive pain in the ass.

Seeing a compartment near the end of the train with just a single person inside it, he opened the door and coughed to get the other boy's attention from the book he was reading.

"Excuse me, do you mind? Everywhere else is full," Ron said, making the other boy pause for a moment.

"Sure, knock yourself out," the other boy responded, immediately turning back to the book as he frowned at it, brow furrowed.

Sitting in the compartment, he decided not to bother the other boy, he seemed to be focusing pretty damn hard on his book.

His resolve almost failed when the boy shifted and he spotted a hint of a lightning bolt scar on the top of the other boy's forehead, making him gasp in realisation of just who was sat opposite him.

But his gasp drew a slightly irritated stare from the saviour of the wizarding world, and he decided against it. His one glimpse of the book had given him a headache, it was probably something stupidly important and there'd be other chances to talk to Harry Potter, they'd both be Gryffindors after all.

Every Weasley had ended up in the house of the Lions, and there was no way the boy who lived would be sorted elsewhere… except maybe Ravenclaw given how obsessively he was reading that book.

The somewhat awkward silence was broken when a girl opened the door to ask about a toad (who brought a toad anymore? Not that he could talk with his fat old rat), but Harry didn't even take his eyes off his book as he said he hadn't seen anything.

The girl hesitated, glancing at the book in his hands as she stood in the doorway, before she left, presumably to go and search for the missing toad.

All in all, the Boy Who Lived was a little weird but he guessed that that came with killing a dark lord when you were in diapers.

— Harry Potter —

The boat ride across the lake was pretty cool, because of the view you get of the castle on your way in.

It's a nice way to show us just where we'll be studying for the next seven years, and I have to admit it is… majestic.

I even put my book down for the crossing, just enjoying the trip. I'm sure I'm close to something, that I can work out the secrets this book is hiding from me.

Arriving at the castle, we are left for a moment as we prepare for the sorting, whatever that is, which admittedly leaves me slightly nervous.

I'm pretty sure half the rumours I've heard whispered are wrong, but it's still going to play a large part in my life for the next seven years.

"It's true, then. What they were saying on the train?" A voice says, making me turn to see a blonde haired boy looking right at me. " Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts," he continues, sounding almost amused.

"It is," I say easily, no point denying it when they're gonna learn my name soon enough anyway, we're going to be classmates for almost a decade after all.

There's some gasps and whispers from the crowd as the blonde smirks.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," he says dismissively, gesturing to the two particularly dim guys at either side of him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Wait, I know that name… I spent some time looking up the magical side of my family, I'm pretty sure his mother was a Black, which means-

"Ah, a pleasure to meet you cousin, distant as it may be," I say, meeting my first magical family member as his eyes widen slightly before he relaxes and smiles.

"Huh, didn't know you knew we were related," Draco admits, making me chuckle.

"To be honest, I didn't know until very recently," I admit, and before we can continue speaking the professor returns and it's time.

My anxiety vanishes quickly as it becomes apparent that the 'Sorting' just involves putting on a dirty old hat, no greater danger than the lice we'll all presumably have by the end of this.

My new cousin gets sorted into Slytherin so fast he probably avoided the lice and as I get called up, I move forwards calmly and ignore the whispers.

I'm going to have to get used to that, aren't I?

'Probably, I'm afraid. Now, where to place you? A difficult choice, very difficult. You'd fit in fine with Ravenclaw, but you also have the courage of a Gryffindor, you're not much of a Hufflepuff I think, but- ah, there it is, the cunning and ambition of a Slytherin.'

Huh, the hat talks in your head. Weird.

'As weird as everything else in this castle.'

Fair enough.

I probably should have looked into the different houses at some point, but oh well. My eyes flicker over to where Draco is watching me, and despite my dislike of the Dursleys I can't help but wonder if the magical side of my family will be better.

I'm certainly willing to give it a shot.

'Works for me, good luck boy, you'll need it in…'

"Slytherin!"

Rising, I can't help but notice the shocked silence that covers the hall as I walk over and sit next to Draco, getting a pat on the back as we share a grin, the Slytherin house finally cheering with a mixture of shock, confusion and pride.

This should be an interesting seven years.

— Bonus Scene — Vernon Dursley

The boy disappearing had been a cause for concern, simply vanishing without a trace meant they might be involved in this.

Still, if the boy had been taken by his people, that was for the best, even if it meant they had to take care of their own food and handle the chores themselves.

Then the month rolled around and the payment he'd been receiving on the first of every month for thirteen years didn't show up.

That was a cause for concern, because while they didn't need it per se, they'd been using that money to achieve a level of comfort that they'd become accustomed to.

But no, while he was worrying about that he didn't consider the actual major problem.

"I see, you believe he's run away then?" the police officer asked, making him gulp slightly as the two officers shared a glance.

One of his teachers had noticed that Harry never returned after the school years started again, and after the school found their excuses insufficient one of the nosy bastards called the police.

"Y-yes, he's always been a delinquent you know, always getting into trouble," Vernon said quickly, making the officer write something down.

"Oddly enough, we've heard that despite the fact that his teachers seem to think he is an ideal student and we don't have any record of juvenile crimes either," the officer said coldly. "We'd like to see his room, if you don't mind."

Ah.

Bugger.