Harry was looking forward to climbing on board the Hogwarts Express in just three days. He kept the sapphire on his person at all times, feeling its weight and the continued tiny aftershocks of having the harmful magic forcefully removed from it. Walburga had finally relented under his persistent pestering and disclosed the spells that would drain or break the wards on the sapphire.
Breaking the sapphire was not Harry's only activity, he had also accomplished much more than he could have imagined with his Occlumency training; thanks to some of the more obscure and protected tomes within the Black library that Walburga had directed him to.
The red lights he encountered had easily directed him to his memory center, just like the voice had said and were only too helpful in the building of his defenses, which, right now, were rudimentary at best but, considering they were his first attempt, Harry was proud of them.
Currently, he was using wind to guard his memories. Wind had many associations that Harry liked and he applied them as a set to his mind. The first line of defense was a gentle breeze redirecting the intruder out followed by a second shifting wind that would toss random memories back and forth, whipping around the pursuer quite vigorously at the first sign of any resistance. His last defense was a forceful gale blowing and howling in rage with a selection of his worst memories that Harry didn't mind showing to a potential enemy. He would add more and reinforce the current defenses when he wasn't too distracted by the things happening around him. Chief among which was the location of Voldemort's Horcrux.
Unfortunately, Kreacher hadn't been able to sniff out anything about the locket. In disgust, Walburga had gone to the trustworthy portraits in the townhouse with help of Harry's boundary extension spellwork. Harry had been surprised by the number of portraits that had multiple frames in many important and influential buildings. Three alone had access in Hogwarts; one in the infirmary, one in the Slytherin common room and the last in the Headmaster's office, though Walburga didn't tell the last one anything interesting; it seemed she didn't trust him.
Harry had been surprised to note that that particular portrait was in his own bedroom. Since then, Harry made sure to avoid doing anything in his room he wanted hidden from the Headmaster, choosing instead to work in the attic with the hippogriff in residence; it was a well isolated spot away from all portraits. The attic proved a good choice and still served him well for spell practicing and conducting his business.
If that wasn't enough to have on his mind, Hedwig was still not to be seen or heard from, which worried Harry
greatly. During the nights, he kept the window open in hope of her return. At times his worry was so great his mind
came up with fanciful reasons for why she wasn't back. Once he was sure she was lying hurt somewhere needing his
help. Others times he was positive she was doing all right but had gone far to hunt, he even went so far to speculate
on her love life, that she met a male owl that caught her fancy; unfortunately that mental image was not so easy to
discard. The waiting, however, was making him jittery.
It became so bad that he couldn't concentrate on spell casting anymore. On the fourth day of her absence he had tried throwing one of the spells he'd seen Snape use and nearly hit the hippogriff. The hapless creature gave one warning screech and Harry knew he should stop. If he hit the beast there would be an angry rampaging hippogriff making swift work of Harry's insides judging by the look in its orange eyes.
On the sixth day he couldn't even concentrate enough to read. The volumes of Dark Arts material Walburga had given him access to were put on hold. Whenever he sat down his leg would start jumping spasmodically a sure sign of his pent up agitation. It was on the eighth day that Harry knew he had to get out of the house and do something even if he couldn't find his owl.
But escaping seemed nigh impossible. For the four straight days that he had tried to get out of Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had displayed a such a degree of sixth sense--it was uncanny. The old coot would show up needing to talk to him about some trivial or banal thought that had occurred in his office tower.
The impromptu meetings greatly vexed him for Harry always felt he was being manipulated and probed. The topic shifted more often than not to the Dark Lord, whether it was about his younger years as Tom Riddle or later with his fashioned name Voldemort. Each time Harry felt he had to be obscure as his answers were sure to be scrutinized and dissected by the Headmaster's piercing mind. Harry was getting tired of it and was going to claim Death Eater status if only to see how the old busybody would react.
Harry, despite the highly interfering behavior of Dumbledore, was determined to make his daytrip today. He was going to wait until everyone was going in for lunch to escape. And thus he found himself on the ground floor hallway trying to read and failing to keep his patience. He closed the book with a disgruntled sigh and leaned his head back against the wall, shifting his weight around to get more comfortable.
"Oh, good, I've been looking for you everywhere," an apprehensive voice said coming down the stairs.
Harry opened one eye to peer at his father, as James moved over to him quickly.
"If your mother asks, we've been goofing around in the kitchen all right?" James said quickly, throwing an anxious look over his shoulder and hurrying on.
Harry raised a brow in dry humor at James' retreating back.
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, JAMES!" the shrill, dulcet tones of his mother's voice drifted down to him.
A second later Lily flew down the stairs, her red hair flying out in chunks. Harry stared incredulously at her appearance, immediately wondering what sort of prank James just pulled off. Potion? Hex? Curse? Lily blew past him before halting and hurrying back. She stood hands on hips, fury blazing in her bright green eyes.
"Where is your father?" she demanded.
"Hiding," Harry said, swallowing back a bark of laughter at her balding head.
"Where?" she huffed impatiently. Harry pointed down the hall. "Thank you, dear," she managed before marching down the hall.
Harry shook his head and flipped open his book again. He had read a sentence when two slippers broke into his line of sight. He shut the book again and looked up to see his mother's puzzled face.
"When did you change your hair Daniel?"
Harry's eyes hardened and his face stiffened in affront. "I'm Harry."
Her eyes cleared before filling up with discomfort. "Sorry, honey," she said inanely, and turned away again.
He grumbled after her disparagingly, "Honestly why do you even bother."
Lily didn't hear him and turned the corner, unconcerned with her forgotten son once again, her imminent row with her husband taking up all her thought. Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, dusting off his slacks and heading toward the front door. With his parents yelling across the house at each other, he had enough of a distraction going on to make good on his escape plans. At the front entryway he put on his matching knitted cap, reached for the handle and swung the door open.
Outside was chillier than he thought it would be and he tugged down the length of the sleeves on his new sweater. His breath fogged the air and Harry looked about trying to figure out where exactly he was in London. The rundown townhouses weren't exactly encouraging or informative.
Traveling by Floo had its conveniences and its inconveniences as far as he was concerned. Not knowing where you were in comparison to everything else was one of the inconveniences. On the other hand being able to go someplace you just know the name of was a far sight better than needing to have already been there or looking up the coordinates for Apparition.
Glancing around surreptitiously, Harry looked for any muggles who might be in the area. Seeing none, he drew out his wand and cast a quick warming charm on himself. As the warmth spread through his body he walked to the nearest street sign in hopes of figuring out where he was. The signs proved to be as unhelpful as one of Luna's charming theories.
Harry looked around and picked the most promising direction and started walking. He'd either find out where he was soon or he would Apparate from the most isolated location he could find. A few blocks down Harry discovered that he wasn't that far from the Leaky Cauldron. The surprising bit of news cheered him up greatly.
Hurrying along with a greater sense of purpose, Harry made a mental checklist of the things he would do. First he would have to sell the sapphire. Then taking the money, he would spend what he needed for Hermione's gift and pocket the rest. After that, Harry would need to try and locate Hedwig by going to the owl post office at the end of Diagon Alley by purchasing the efforts of one of their owl locaters, and maybe glean how they did it if the caster didn't cast silently. He would also have to try finding the Horcrux, but since he thought it was likelier to be farther than Diagon Alley he wouldn't worry about that until the end of his trip.
He came upon the dirty rundown sign for the pub not ten minutes later and slipped into the nondescript building with nary a glance from the passing muggles. The place was a tad crowded, certainly not to full capacity, but the volume of the parsonage present was more than enough to knock the socks off of Harry when he first opened the door. Quickly traversing the distance from the front door to the back door, Harry stepped outside once again and tapped the bricks to open the gate to the alley.
The crowds of Diagon Alley were changed from the bubbling boisterous mass he saw at the start of the term. Instead, there were sparse groups of twos and threes scurrying around the alley trying to get things done as quickly as possible, desperate to leave.
Outside tenders were trying to sell safety amulets and other questionable items in their desire to prey upon the terrified populace for an easy galleon. Harry watched as a little girl was hurried around them by her grandmother with a stern scolding not to touch anything from their carts.
When the girl and her grandmother entered the book shop, Harry started striding down the street purposefully. Of course the unapproachable veneer he was going for might have been slightly marred by his green sweater and cap which were both too bright and cheerful to be anything standoffish or intimidating.
The cold was starting to bother him as the charm wore off and he was anxious to enter the jewelry shop. The store was sandwiched between two other buildings, the three together looked exceedingly eclectic and very cozy. Walking in, a bell above the door jingled, alerting the man working behind one of the counters of his presence.
The sales clerk looked in askance at Harry's appearance but made no comment on it. "How may I help you, sir?"
"I would like to speak with the owner of the shop. I have something I think he would like to see."
"She won't be interested in what a upstart like you has obviously stolen. Verbena Larkspur is a very busy woman and she--"
"Will see the boy," came a warm voice overriding the sales clerk who jumped at the interjection.
"Yes, ma'am," he said nervously obviously besotted with his boss.
Harry smiled at the gregarious woman who stepped out of the back room. Her hair was bright red and coiled elegantly behind her head in a series of lustrous curls only magic could provide. Her tapered blue-violet robes cut off just below her knees giving her appearance a very chic muggle aspect. She extended a pale hand which Harry shook tentatively afraid he might break her.
"So what can I do for you---?" she waited for him to fill in his name.
"Harry," he inserted, releasing her hand.
"Verbena, though you may call me Verbbie."
"Yes, well you see I have something I would like to sell you, but I would rather not do the transaction out here."
She examined him, looking for something deceitful in him. "Did you steal it?" she ask finally.
Harry shook his head, because technically Mrs. Black gave it to him through Kreacher. "No I did not, but I need some extra galleons right now."
"Are you on the run?" Verbbie asked shrewdly, arching one trimmed eyebrow at him.
"If I was, would I tell you?" he countered, taking his hat off and running a hand through his dark locks.
"I see you had a coloring charm go awry," she noted, pointing at the red stripe in his locks.
Harry nodded. "My sister did while I was sleeping," he lied.
"Why don't you show me what you've got then," Verbbie said, leading him to the back room.
Harry stepped through the threshold and Verbena grabbed his left arm with a strength he didn't know she could possess and thrust the sleeve back past his elbow. The action surprised Harry but he recovered quickly and yanked his arm back as he drew his wand on her. Shoving the sleeve down roughly, he glowered at the redhead.
"What the hell was that for?" he demanded, leveling his wand point with her nose.
"I had to make sure you weren't a Death Eater impersonating Daniel Potter now didn't I? Besides I know you don't have a sister, so you were lying and I wanted to find out why. It was natural to assume you were working for You-Know-Who impersonating Daniel."
Harry's mouth firmed into a thin, nasty line. "I'm not Daniel."
"Sure you aren't dearie," Verbbie said, agreeably. "How many Potter boys are there with scars and the trademark messy black hair?" she added pointedly. Harry opened his mouth to argue when she interrupted, "Now what does the Boy-Who-Lived wish to sell?"
Resisting the urge to argue with her anymore, Harry pulled from his pocket the gently wrapped stone revealing the large sapphire. Verbena gasped audibly and quickly summoned her examiners goggles and reached out for the stone. Harry handed it over gently and she appraised the gem.
"I'll give you twenty thousand galleons," she said, continuing to examine the sapphire with a greedy expression.
"That's not nearly enough for the size and quality," Harry countered. "Don't try to con me here. I wouldn't take less than a billion galleons or two billion pounds."
Verbena nearly dropped the stone in shock. Harry took it from her quickly wrapping it back up and slipping it into his
pocket once more before adding silently the anti-theft charm with a marginal flick of his pointer finger. Verbena eyed
the large bulge and the eager gleam in her eyes told Harry that he had sold the jewel before she was able to school her
features into a cool and collected mask. She was no longer the vivacious woman of five minutes ago but a shrewd
calculating business woman.
"You wouldn't be here if you thought you could really get that much. Five hundred thousand galleons and not a knut more, it's more than generous."
"I know how much this is worth and if you're not going to play in the same pitch as me, then I'm leaving." Harry started walking toward the door when she stopped him by stepping in his way.
"Three million galleons."
Harry gave her a disgruntled look and sidestepped her. "Obviously you are not taking me seriously. I will go elsewhere, perhaps to a muggle shop where they know the real worth of something like what I'm offering."
Verbbie, desperate, waylaid Harry with a hand on his shoulder. "I do not have the money to buy something this extravagant. Even the richest of muggles would have a hard time coughing that kind of money up. Let me find you a buyer for it for a commission cut of thirty percent."
"Half a percent," Harry countered.
"Fifteen," she wheedled.
"I can find other people to--"
"Yes, but not at the price you're asking for. It's a large sum that, face it, how many purebloods in England could really afford at that price? Why not let me cut it up and we can sell chunks of it to several at high prices."
"I take it you'd still want your fifteen percent," Harry guessed, listening to her.
"Certainly! I would be doing most of the work after all you would just have to wait around for the deposits into your account."
"A finder's fee is only ten percent at Gringotts…"
"I'll take it!" she announced, shaking his hand enthusiastically.
"Any anything you do to the stone that damages profits?"
"My expense," she assured him. "You'll not lose a sickle or a knut in this venture."
"Deal," he said, still holding her hand.
A magic crimson ribbon flashed around their hands and knotted firmly, setting the deal in stone. Harry's head spun as he let go and took several steps back from Verbena. The deal was done.
The redhead grinned a tad smugly and held her hand out. "Just give me your account number and the gem dearie, and we're ready to get started. I'll even give you the twenty-thousand galleons I offered in the first place as an upfront sum because I'm so nice."
"Why don't you write me a transfer sheet and authorize it. I'll set things up at Gringotts and forward you my account for the money."
"Great," Verbena said, hustling over to her neat and tidy desk and yanking open the third drawer down on the left hand side.
She took out a document and grabbed a quill from the holder, opened her black ink and dipped the quill. For the next few minutes she was busily scratching away down the sheet of parchment. When she was done she used her wand to dry the ink and handed it over to him.
Harry took it from her and slipped it into his robes after a quick perusal, noting that she had written it out to Mr. Potter, leaving out his first name. "I trust we are well on our way to something profitable for both of us."
He gave her the gem and watched her place it in a vault. She looked up when the lock had clicked in place. "I believe we will Mr. Potter," she said following him out of her office.
"Do watch out for the nifflers," Harry said, exiting the shop, the bell overhead tinkling lightly.
Once outside,Harry pulled his cap back on and stamped his feet a few times to get use to the cold. The jewelers must have excellent warming charms to beat this cold. It started snowing as he walked down the street to the big white leaning structure that housed the wizarding bank.
This time Harry entered the building with arrogance, not pausing to acknowledge the goblin guard at the door for extra security or to say the polite greetings when he met up with Lagnort behind the teller counter. He insisted on being escorted to see Mr. Raypirnk once more with urgency. A large bulky male was called forth and Harry didn't bother to remember his name as he followed the goblin back into the recesses of the bank. After a brief polite knock on Raypirnk's door Harry dismissed the goblin escort and barged into the office.
Mr. Raypirnk glanced up, clearly agitated by the presumptuous action on Harry's part, but Harry ignored the goblin's feelings and sat himself down with the arrogance of a Malfoy. Harry threw a leg up and propped his elbows on the sides of the chair, steepling his fingers.
"We meet again Raypirnk," Harry addressed coolly confident. "Only this time you won't have the last laugh. I am prepared to open a bank account here at Gringotts and you will find a way to accommodate me so that I walk out of this office with my new key."
"I don't have to do anything of the sort," Raypirnk started, baring two rows of tiny teeth. "Now get out of my office."
"Oh but you do," Harry replied, arching a knowing eyebrow. "After all Gringotts always appreciates new gold, right? Now, I want a standard savings account, with the minimum amount of protection. I'll not pay for any useless extras and I expect it to be done to the best of your cursebreakers' abilities. The only thing I am going to add is the premium account's registering log that jots down the magical signature and name of any who enters or accesses my vault."
"Mr. Potter, there's a reason it's on the premium account and not on the standard. If you would like a premium vault warding done, you simply have to upgrade your account."
Harry shook his head. "No, you'll do what I say because I want it that way and because I can afford it." Harry drew out the transfer sheet from his robes and glared at the goblin before him. "Well why aren't you getting a move on Raypirnk? I'm very busy and can't waste any more time than necessary."
A sour Raypirnk started pulling out stacks of papers and writing on them with a muggle pen. Harry watched with dry humor at the goblin's attempt to cause offence by using such a basic muggle tool. Harry however knew exactly what pens were and how they worked from three years of Muggle Studies before dropping it after his O.W.L.S. The sight wasn't about to affront his sensibilities.
When five minutes had passed, Harry sighed and told the goblin to speed up. Two minutes later, a swift footed messenger came with a box. Raypirnk took the wood box from the underling and opened it to reveal Harry's new vault key. Harry took it and felt the key accept and record his magical signature. Delighted, Harry stuck it into his robes and stood up.
"Now that that is settled. I shall go see about getting some deposit and withdrawal slips and some cheques. Good day Raypirnk, it's been a pleasure."
Harry found his way back on to the main floor of the bank and settled himself back in line for the tellers. This time he chose the smallest line, which wasn't the esteemed Lagnort's and got what he wanted including a messenger over to Verbena's store with the details for direct deposits into his vault.
Walking down Diagon Alley, Harry smirked. He now carried enough cheques to pay for anything he so desired and twenty thousands galleons in a new bank account. For the first time he could be his own man and he owed it all to a screaming pureblood portrait.
The first order of business required a stop in the post owl office to hire a tracker for Hedwig, who still hadn't shown up. The worry gnawing in the pit of his stomach was starting to give him stomach aches. Harry watched the tracker place a spell on the feather he had brought with him from Hedwig's cage before leaving. He didn't understand what the color it turned meant, but the tracker seemed to and shooed him away.
Outside, Harry took a moment to use the point me spell in an attempt to find the Horcrux. Needless to say it failed. Harry sighed and put his wand away and walked on.
At Twilfit and Tatting's Harry procured himself a new wardrobe, and as a special treat to himself, got all his new
robe sets in silk, including a dark red dress robe embroidered in black. The goods would be delivered by owl, at a
price of course, before Harry went off to Hogwarts. The owner thanked Harry as he handed the cheque for
seven-hundred-and-thirty galleons, nine sickles, and fourteen knuts over. Apparently he had been the most business the
shop had seen since Voldemort's attack on Somerset.
At WhizzHard Books Harry grabbed many things for himself and Hermione. Whereas Flourish and Blotts carried scholarly texts or self-help tomes for the most part, WhizzHard Books carried a plethora of fiction works. He made sure to grab a witch fairy tale set for Hermione and a few stories about muggles, which if nothing else, were good for a laugh.
His last stop of the day was at a certain junk shop located on the Alley. There he found the gift he'd been hoping to get Hermione. Another three-hundred-eighty-five galleons and odd change later, Harry held twin hand mirrors, just like the pair Daniel and Ron shared. He was going to give her both and hope, she might make him the recipient of one if she didn't give the second to her parents. It would certainly make conversing much easier if she went on holiday again.
Thinking about Hermione made the ache of worry in his stomach ease a little. He couldn't wait to meet up with her again and hear about her trip to India and tell her about his dreadful stay with his family, including the new Horcrux that had been stolen out from under him. Perhaps if he got his way, there wouldn't be much talking the first half of the train ride back. Harry grinned, he was looking forward to it.
º«««º»»»ºEnd Chapter 29º«««º»»»º