Chapter Text
Gravel scattered up behind him as he raced along the gravel path exiting Number 4 Privet Drive. Dudley's worn bag on his shoulder was fighting to stay there as it smacked repeatedly against Hedwig's golden cage. She rustled around indignantly, squawking here and there when a stray strap hit the sides. According to Harry's magic, that had been the last straw at the Dursley's. Aunt Marge’s vindictive remarks towards his parents pushed the last button he didn’t know he had. He hadn’t meant to blow her up, really, but he couldn't say he was particularly mad about it. The state of things before he left just proved to Harry that he had to get the hell out of here.
Honestly, he’s glad to have a reason to be out. The lack of food and outrageous chores were really taking a toll on his body. His face had become gaunt and haunting, with his bones threatening to peek out from under his skin. Aunt Petunia believed it was Harry's nightmares that were mucking up Dudley's sleep schedule—impacting his wrestling competitions. She'd been pushing more and more work onto Harry, thinking that it would tire him out to the point of where he couldn't even think of dreaming anything.
Truly, it was just leaving Harry constantly exhausted and on alert, to the point where he could barely even sleep at all. The chamber from second year still haunted him from time to time, but just to get some peace of mind, he tried to put away most of the things that happened in the past two years at Hogwarts. There was more good than bad, but some of the bad was just too much. He still remembers Quirrell's face in that dank, flame-ridden chamber.
Still kicking up gravel as he went, and with no real destination in mind, Harry kept speed-walking ahead. There wasn’t anywhere in particular he could go. He initially thought about the Burrow, but he hasn’t received any owls from them, nor would he even know how to begin getting there. There’s Hogwarts, but that isn’t open to students for almost a month still, and he’s sure the train wouldn't even be running there yet.
In the middle of his musings, a crack sounded to his left. Harry’s head snapped toward the sound. Whipping out his wand immediately, he pointed it towards the darkness across the street.
Harry's hand didn’t falter, and he could’ve sworn he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him. Yet, before he could look further, a gush of wind flew down the street along with a resounding boom.
A giant bus had appeared out of seemingly thin air.
What the hell.
Harry staggered back, almost tripping on his too-large jeans, and stared up and up at the vehicle in front of him.
“Well, what‘re you doin’ standin’ around fer! Hop on, hop on.” The bus boy stared expectantly at him. His eyes widened after scanning Harry’s form.
“Well, I’ll be! You mus' be Harry Potter! It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter, just fer tonight you ride free.” Harry blew out a breath inwardly, considering he didn’t have any money on him to pay for this ride anyway.
“Thank you, Sir. Um- where does this bus go, exactly?” Harry asked as he trailed along behind the man. The bus was quite empty, holding a few sleeping passengers and one man reading the paper. Harry picked at the loose string in his shirt.
“Well, it can go righ’ 'bout anywhere! I believe our last stop fer the night‘ll be The Leaky Cauldron. But I reckon for the Savior of the wizard world, we can whip som’ up.”
The busboy nudged Harry expectantly, as if assuming his prestige was a commodity.
“No, no. The- uh, the Leaky Cauldron would be perfect, Sir.”
The busboy took a glance at his watch.
“Well, perf! We’ll be ther’ aroun’ 20 minutes.”
Harry nodded and decided to settle in a seat away from one of the sleeping forms. His backpack and Hedwig’s cage were propped up next to him— Hedwig was preening at the damage done to her feathers. He had no clue what hour it was, and with no real way to check, he settled to generally assume it was too late for shops to be open. There was a possibility the Leaky Cauldron had rooms free, but it’s something he shouldn’t bet on. And regardless of that, he has no money on him— well, maybe a Galleon or two in his school bag.
Maybe Gringotts has a 24 hour policy? There must be something in wizarding laws going against inhumane labor. But truly, knowing how dated they are in some aspects in the wizarding world, he wouldn’t be surprised if species rights were being taken advantage of.
That’s a potential problem for another time. Right now, Harry just needs a place to stay.
Seeing as he could do nothing now, Harry settled to just watch the night roll by.
—
Harry awoke to the bus screeching to a stop, seemingly in front of the same place Hagrid had brought him his first year— The Leaky Cauldron. Harry gathered his belongings and thanked the busboy that helped him.
“Twas nothin’ at all, lad. Safe travels!”
The bus sped off in a flash, leaving him alone in front of the shop. Unfortunately, stepping inside the Leaky Cauldron caused a cacophony of noise. Harry fruitlessly tried to cover his scar as much as possible and duck his head low through the customers inside. His black curls didn't do much to help him, but there's a slim chance he can make it unscathed.
Briskly walking towards the man behind the bar, Harry hoped he could be of some help. "Hello Sir, I was wondering if you offered any rooms here? Or if you knew where I could stay for a while before school starts up?"
The man behind the counter looked Harry up and down skeptically, and said, "Where are your parents, lad?"
Harry froze momentarily. "Well, I wouldn't say they have any right in what my business is in that. Do you know where I can get a room, Sir?"
The man cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, we have rooms. It'll be two Galleons for a night's stay. What'll it be?"
Harry mentally perked up. Now he just needed to find the money. Harry picked around through his bag, finding a small pouch that contained three Galleons and a small pendant. When looking at the pouch a bit closer, he realized Hagrid had given it to him when they went shopping for his school supplies before first year. Which, he now needed to get again. With only a Galleon to his name after tonight. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he handed over two of the Galleons to the man behind the counter.
"Thanks lad, it'll be room 215. All the way at the end of the hall. Here's your key."
Harry thanked him and gathered his belongings. A win for the night!
The room was small but luxurious in comparison to the space he had at the Dursley's. No shattered toys surrounding a broken mattress. It was perfect.
After letting Hedwig out of her cage to stretch her wings, Harry tried to formulate a plan for the next day. He was very, very low on money, so Gringotts was a must for his first visit. He thought about finally getting a head start on his homework for once, but, Hermione had brought his requirement paper for him in the last year, so he'd have to figure out what he actually needed for next term to do that.
At least right now, he has a safe place to rest with no looming threats for once.
—
Harry blearily opened his eyes to the sun peeking in by the curtains. A glance at the clock told him that it was half past noon. Not too bad, considering he went to bed closer to one in the morning. Harry got up out of bed to open the window for Hedwig, and grabbed his coin pouch on the way out. The first stop of the day was Gringotts, as he'll definitely need more than one galleon to keep staying here.
He can't really remember going to take out money last year… a lot of things seem to be fuzzy from then. It mustn't have been too important, considering all the other nonsense that happened on that trip.
Diagon Alley was a lot less busy when it wasn't the week right before school. He still had a month left before returning to Hogwarts, and if it was going to be this empty all the time, then he's definitely going to make the most of it.
It'll be nice to not have a strict schedule and give himself a chance to really explore and learn about the market. But first, he needs some money. Harry pushed open the large double doors into the bank, tentatively walking up to the goblin all the way towards the end.
"Er- excuse me, Sir, I'm here to access my vault?"
The goblin slowly dragged his eyes to Harry's. "Key."
Harry fidgeted under his gaze. "Well, I don't actually have my key-"
"Then I cannot help you. Misdolf!" A smaller goblin with large oval glasses previously sitting in one of the desks lining the hall hopped out of his seat, walking towards Harry.
"Ah, yes, yes, hello. Come, follow me." The goblin, Misdolf, seemed to hold a cheerier attitude than the rest of them here.
They walked along through a narrow hallway, which felt uncomfortable in the silence. He didn't have a clue as to what was happening. "Hello, Misdolf, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
"Hm. I am Misdolf. I manage the General Affairs of Lost Items," Misdolf responds primly as they sharply turn the corner.
Harry jerked slightly but kept up with Misdolf's pace. "Oh, well, Sir, I haven't actually lost my key. I've never been given one."
Misdolf stops abruptly in his stride, turning towards him. "Never been given one you say?"
Harry shook his head quickly. "No, Sir."
"Well, we've come all this way. You're now to receive an inheritance test, Mr. Potter. We must ensure your identity to redistribute a new key and dissolve of the previous one. I will conduct it, as it shall be easier than returning." Misdolf cut a left turn into a compact room containing a desk, ancient looking papers, and two empty vials.
"Sit, Mr. Potter." Misdolf's outstretched palm held a small, shiny dagger. "You are to draw three drops of blood into this left vial, then inscribe your name on the scroll in front of you." Misdolf went about in arranging the items as so.
Harry did as he was told, wincing as he sliced along his finger, neatly dropping the blood from his cut. Misdolf gestured to the quill he set down for Harry to write with. As he started to sign his name, his wrist felt taut and prickled slightly with each letter.
Misdolf nodded curtly, taking the vial and paper from him to an adjoining table. The goblin placed a blank paper next to the signed one and dripped a small amount of Harry's blood onto it. Neat red letters began appearing on the previously empty paper— with writing that seemed to go on for longer than it should've. The paper was then taken to a small machine in the corner of the room with an open letter slot. Misdolf spelled the paper to duplicate and placed it into the press-like machine. Misdolf scanned the lines quickly from the original paper, and plucked the key that produced from a slot in the press' top.
"Well met, Heir Potter," Misdolf said, inclining his head slightly.
"Um- Well, well met, Sir. Misdolf." Misdolf's eyebrow raised in response.
"It appears you hold some blockages as well, Heir Potter."
"Blockages, Sir?"
"Magical blockings, placed by an outside force. They can be removed, for a price." Misdolf's teeth flashed briefly.
Harry chose to ignore his grin. "What are these magical blockings? How much are they to be removed?"
"It's one hundred Galleons per blocking. Considering your current funds, though, that should be no trouble at all." Misdolf passed the paper over to Harry, one long finger circling the specific blockings. Next to them were names inscribed of the caster. There lay one familiar name: Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore.
Magical-Competency Cap, Inheritance Age-Cap, Soul-Bond, and Magic-Bind were listed, all cast by the same man. Harry didn't even know what those even meant, or how they impacted him. "How can I find out about these bonds? Where can I get them removed?"
Misdolf flipped a hand back and forth. "Your account manager shall handle all personal affairs. That should be-" Misdolf glanced closer to the bottom of the paper. "Well, it appears that will now be me. What questions have you, child?"
"What is the Magical-Competency Cap? And- well- why did Professor Dumbledore want to place these on me? What do they do?" Harry had begun pacing to and fro in the small printing room.
"A Magical-Competency Cap is a magical barrier placed onto your core that will cap what level your magic can reach in its true potential. They are oftentimes placed onto young children who lack the skills to hone their magic. But it appears yours is intended to never be removed." Misdolf looked directly towards him now. "I'm unsure as to why Headmaster Dumbledore has placed these bindings on you, but as he is your magical guardian, he has every and any right to do as he wishes in regard to your magic."
Harry stared, affronted at the complete lack of control he had. He was well accustomed to doing what he's told and following the path the wizarding world keeps setting for him, but this time— this time something snapped in him. This was so, so wrong and controlling over his entire person— his soul!
Harry felt a little faint. "I want them gone."
"Then it shall be done," said Misdolf.
"Some will take more time than others, requiring you to return multiple times to shed it off of your magical core. Shall I charge the amounts from your main vault?"
"My trust vault, Sir?"
"No, child. The Potter Vault, the one your family has held for generations."
Harry faltered. "Oh, I guess- yes, then. May I see this vault?"
"One thing at a time, Heir Potter. We shall deal with the smallest blocking first. The easiest one to assess with just the two of us should be your Magic-Bind. This one, I can remove right now, but it will take a large toll on your body. You must get rest after this to ensure an easy recovery for the rest of the blockages to be removed." Misdolf pushed up his glasses, and, with a wave, conjured a third copy of the scroll, handing it to Harry.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, taking the document from him. "I have another question, Sir. Why do you keep calling me 'Heir Potter'?"
"Well, that is who you are. Sole Heir to the Potter family, soon to become Lord when you are of age, since there are no eligible elders in line for the role."
Misdolf continued, “Currently, you are at an acceptable age to rebuke any bindings placed on you prior to magical age of consent, which in this case is all the bindings currently on your form.”
Harry nodded, absorbing the information like a sponge. It was both isolating and reassuring to know he was the last left in his family who was a part of this magical world. He couldn't bear it if there were some long-lost sibling of his.
"Actually, Misdolf, Sir, I need to access my vault first, or at least take out some money, before we handle the removal."
Misdolf held his gaze impatiently. "Do you have a coin pouch?"
Harry nodded.
"I can charm it to retrieve the currency you require from your trust vault until we deal with further affairs."
"That sounds great!"
"The expenses will be charged towards the Potter vault as well."
Harry mentally frowned. It seemed everything came with a price to them.
Misdolf set to setting up the next order of business, snapping into existence a bowl filled with ingredients and a piece of paper.
"You are to drip one drop of blood into this bowl here and repeat these words I've written down for you here." Misdolf handed him the same knife from before, and a small paper with fine script written neatly.
Once more slicing open the now healing wound from before, Harry let a drop of blood fall into the bowl that appeared to have a multitude of powders mixed in.
"Magicae reparandae mihi, animam meam veram."
Immediately, Harry became exhausted. His non-injured hand shot out to grab a nearby table for support.
"We shall meet again tomorrow at nine sharp, Heir Potter." Misdolf promptly left the room, with no further assistance towards Harry.
Harry took a couple breaths before readying himself to leave the room, squaring away the scroll into his obscenely large pant pocket.
The trek back to the Leaky Cauldron was a difficult one. He was using all his might not to collapse from the weight of the spell. When he finally arrived back to his room, he fell right to sleep.
—
That had been the first time Harry had truly slept in a while. He was still completely exhausted to the bone, but feeling less like he was about to faint. A glance at the clock told him it was roughly half past five, and he was starving.
Harry recalled Misdolf telling him about calling money from his pouch. He opened it and peered inside. Was he meant to call it out loud?
"Um- 10 Galleons. Please?"
The pouch shook slightly in his palm before the Galleons appeared into itself.
Well, that seemed to have worked.
Harry called for a couple Sickles and Knuts as well. He went about finally showering and wrapping up his sliced palm. Once he was done, he exited down to the first floor of the Leaky Cauldron. It appeared the barkeep from last night was here again today.
"Hello, I'd like to book out the room for a month stay."
"Well, I'll need a name and signature, kid."
"Uh, it's Harry Potter, Sir."
The barkeep laughed straight into Harry's face.
"Y'know how many Harry Potter's I get in here, kid? You'll have to try better than that."
Harry sighed, visibly irritated, before gathering back the front of his hair. Underneath it revealed his scar, a stark white against his brown skin, slashing from his hairline in jagged lines to below his right eye. It usually was covered or less noticeable as it tapered down towards his eye, but it had been getting longer recently.
The barkeep's eyebrows shot up. The man paused before speaking again. "Aye, I stand corrected. Name's Tom. You can have the room, lad. It'll be a bit though, how's 150 Galleons?"
Harry let his hand fall back towards his side. He knew that was far, far less than a month stay should be, but for once he won't fight against the privilege his name brings him.
For the first time in a while Harry cracked a grin. "I can do that, Tom. Can I sign for it now?"
Tom nodded, bringing out a piece of parchment with pre-written contractual text on it. Harry scratched his name in and his squiggly signature next to it.
"Let me know if there's anything you need, lad." Tom bid him farewell with a curt nod, and went about bussing the bar.
Harry ordered a quick bite to eat while he was there. It was the first real meal he'd had since school ended. After the start of his second year, he had a good enough understanding of pacing himself. When going from no food to a lot of food, he knew only small amounts were the best option.
Exiting the Leaky Cauldron, Harry went straight to finding a bookstore. They must have some list for the required school books.
While he walked, Harry couldn't stop thinking about the paper Misdolf had handed him. What in the world is a Soul-Bond? That sounds like something straight out of those fairytales he would hear Aunt Petunia read Dudley through the cupboard door. Maybe it's something to do with this weird obsession the wizarding world seems to have between him and Voldemort? He really hopes not, he wants nothing to do with… Him, and hopefully this year he won't.
Harry turned into a small side street, cobbled roads and comfortable chatter littered the path. Independent businesses and residential buildings seemed to be the only things housing this side of Diagon Alley. It was much quieter than the main part of the alley, and Harry found that he liked it much more.
A little jingle ran through the store as he entered. He decided not to go to the bookstore he usually went to with the Weasleys. It was always so busy, seemingly even at this time of year. Instead, this was a quaint hole-in-the-wall type shop. Worn scrolls littered the floor where Harry carefully navigated between them. Stacks upon stacks of books created pathways on the floor. The dust and smudges indicated the shop's age, a warm magical hug enveloped the space the farther he entered.
"Hiya! Come on in then. Welcome to Bingo's Books and Tomes! What're you in for today?" A tallish girl behind the counter addressed Harry casually. She rested an arm on the counter, reading a worn book with the other hand. Tight black curls curved around her face, outlining her sharp features nicely. She must've been no older then he was.
Harry froze slightly at her greeting. "Um. I was wondering if you happened to have any books for the upcoming school year?"
The girl turned her face to him first, eyes stilled glued to her book, then slowly locked them to his, "Hm. Well, depends. What school?"
Harry mentally facepalmed. Obviously, other schools existed. Quite elitist of him to assume it was only Hogwarts. Quickly regaining his thoughts, Harry zoned back in to her analyzing look, book now dog-eared and set aside. "Er- sorry, I meant any books on the upcoming Hogwarts curriculum, that is."
The girl gave a small nod and turned to her left where a parchment and quill laid on the desk. While she was sifting through it's text and- well whatever it was she was doing, Harry fruitlessly tried to flatten his curls to cover the scar that traveled along his face. But truly, he could only do so much.
Note to self: buy concealer or something, for gods sake.
Lost in his musings, Harry was unaware the girl was looking at him expectantly, holding out a paper towards him.
A quick snap resounded in the small room as she rapped her hand against the paper. "Lucky you that Hogwarts is oh-so-popular! Here's a list that should have this term's books." She paused. "Y'know, not many students come to us for term books, 'specially Hogwarts. Why'd you come to us?" She had a cute tilt to her head, causing one curl to fall to the other side.
Long answer or short?
"I… like to try out new places?"
"Are you telling me or asking me?"
"…Telling?"
She chuckled and shook her head slightly. "Honestly, whatever brings in business!"
At that, Harry looked around the store once more, realizing the two of them were the only ones actually occupying it.
"Not to be rude or anything, but why's it so empty in here?"
She cocked a brow. "Well, that's pretty fuckin' rude."
Harry's hands flailed. "Er- Forget I asked! I don't mean to pry."
Her curls shook with her laughter. "I'm just messing with you! I prefer people get to the point, y'know?" She shot him a quick wink, maneuvering herself out of her seat to help him. "Since it's just us, how 'bout I give you a tour?" She gestured a hand out to the connecting hallway.
Compared to all the other residents in Diagon Alley, she wasn't wearing classic wizarding attire and instead had on a tiny shirt with low trousers. Some band Harry distantly recognized from an issue on Uncle Vernon's daily paper was on the back of her top. She deftly navigated through the piles of books lining a corridor that went deeper into the store.
"'Pologies for the mess! We just started moving in our wares from our other store and things have gotten a bit outta hand!" She leaned on specific towers of novels for support and adjusted others as she walked.
"Other store?" Harry politely asked, trying to emulate her footsteps.
"Yeah, see, we had a place up in Reading, but things've gotten a bit too hectic— money wise, y'know? So, we consolidated, and now we're here! Dad— he's "Bingo" by the way— he's started up all this book stuff, and my mum has just decided to up and leave! Ha! So, yeah, um… I realize now that was a bit much."
Harry, who was up until then following her obediently through the books, paused at the end of her tirade. Her animated gestures throughout had connected into small fidgets by her waist.
"Oh! So this is the main part of the store! We have our most popular books here or themed selections-" The girl had cut herself off mid-sentence. "Oh my god, I haven't even introduced myself! Name's Hecate Grimmings. Parents were big fans of Greek mythos and whatnot." Hecate held an out an expecting hand towards Harry, a blush dusting her cheeks.
Quick, Harry, think of a name! No, no, not the Weasleys. Uh- Tom Riddle? No one knows him maybe-
"T-Tom. I'm Tom Ma…Mabien!" Harry shook her hand in return, a little shocked by the force she put behind it.
She flashed a grin at him, a small glint in her eye. "Nice to meet'cha, Tom." They entered into a large archival space, shelves went far- magically far up into the ceiling. "Now, over here we have the actual organized book shelves, with some sitting spaces here. It can be pretty… cozy with all the shelves, but it's very organized! We have a really cool magic organizing system set in place, that my brother set up actually!" Hecate rambled on about the intricacies of her brother's organization system. Harry was surprisingly interested in the ins and outs of such a system, requesting more information at a later time.
"Oh! That's right! You're in here for specific stuff, ain't that right, Tom."
"Erm, yes. I was also wondering if you happened to have any books on magical… uh, blockings?" Harry's eyes locked onto hers for a second in their venture around the room, causing a small shock through his system.
Hecate once more had that analysing look upon her face. Her amber eyes viewed past his, not necessarily knowing what they were looking for, but certainly curious to find out.
"Now, what would Harry Potter need to know about magical blockings for? Hexing any unsuspecting first-years?"
This time, Harry's eyes shot to hers purposefully, expecting the mental trill this time and glaring right into her respective ones.
"What?"
Hecate leaned against a nearby bookshelf. "I can literally see your scar, mate. Plus, you're not much of a hidden figure. I think literally everyone in our generation knows your entire face and life story."
Harry's face burned, disgruntled in being found out and at the sound of her replying laughter.
"Don't get all mad about it! Honestly, it was cute seeing you proud about that little name you came up with. But, maybe next time, let's come up with some type of disguise." She tapped her finger on her chin in thought. "How about you come back tomorrow. I'll be here alone again at 'round 2 o' clock, and I'll give you a nice makeover!" She seemed giddy at the mere prospect alone.
Harry stared a couple seconds longer.
"Could I get my books first?"