Echoes from the Past

Chapter Four: "The Aftermath of the Truth"

Harry watched the illuminated red numbers of his alarm clock flick from 12:59 to 1:00 before he sighed and rolled onto his back. His uncle's guest had left an hour ago after which the Dursleys had quickly gone to bed, no doubt leaving everything as it was downstairs for him to clean up in the morning. He knew he should sleep as he hadn't slept a lot the past few nights and he'd need energy for his chores tomorrow, but every time he started to drift off, what he had learned only hours ago popped back into his head, demanding his attention.

After some thought, Harry had come to the conclusion that his earlier assumption had been wrong. Things could get worse between himself and Snape: the Potions Master could reject him. Even though he didn't know what he wanted with regards to his newly found father, he did know that rejection would hurt him tremendously. He had wished too long for his parents to be alive and to be with him for the rejection of one of them to do anything else. Even if the person in question was someone he'd disliked immensely for four years.

This realization had only served to make the Boy-Who-Lived even more nervous than he already was. What if Snape did reject him? What would he do then? Not wanting to ponder the painful possibility of being constantly ignored and treated as before despite both of them knowing the truth, he turned his thoughts to what would happen if the potions professor didn't reject him. What did he want then? Never having had a father figure in his life, he didn't quite know what to expect. And the things that he did associate with fathers didn't fit the Head of House Slytherin's personality, so he was left at an impasse.

This train of thought had rapidly led to a new problem. Before Professor Snape could either accept or reject him, he would have to be told the truth. Yet Harry couldn't picture himself getting the older man to listen to him outside of class. He supposed he could just give the wizard the letter and let him discover it all on his own, but that didn't sit right with him. He wanted to be there when Snape learned the truth as he wanted to see his reaction. The man was a brilliant actor and he didn't want to give him time to pull himself together enough to put on a mask. He needed to know the reality of what Snape felt, even if it would hurt him. He'd had more than enough lies and half-truths in his life for ten people and he was sick and tired of it all. So he had to tell him personally and then give him the letter as proof as he didn't doubt that the obsidian eyed wizard would think that he was pulling some sort elaborate and very sick joke.

But how to do so? He could just see the scenario now:

"Excuse me, Professor."

"What do you want, Potter?" Snape would growl, placing the usual emphasize on his surname.

"I was hoping to talk with you, Sir."

"Unlike you, Potter, I have better things to do with my time than waste it on idle and pointless chatter," his father would say. "And if you'd only learn that and pay attention in class instead of constantly talking with Weasley, than perhaps you'd both be doing better."

"But this is important, Professor!"

"Everything is always important when it comes to you, isn't it? Well I have news for you, Potter, the world doesn't revolve around you!"

"It's got to do with you and my mother."

The mental portrayal abruptly ended there, Harry's mind unable to conjure up an image of a speechless Snape. But it was enough, more than enough actually. Simply thinking of the man's treatment of him hurt, even though he now knew why. Starting off this particular conversation that way was not a good idea. He needed to figure out a way to do it differently, to get Snape to listen to him without scorn or impatience. But how? The only way he could think of was to start off by mentioning or doing something that would get the wizard's attention and interest him in what he had to say. Perhaps he could bring along one of the mementoes his mother mentioned having placed in the vault she'd gotten at Gringotts. That would probably do the trick.

Only that presented yet another new dilemma. When was he to go to the vault? Due to the Dursleys' disgust and fear of all things wizard related, he only got one opportunity each summer to go to Diagon Alley and consequently Gringotts. And that was the day he saw Ron and Hermione. How was he to go explore the vault then? Worst case scenario was if they'd all use the same cart, then he wouldn't even be able to go to his mother's vault without raising unanswerable questions about why he was going there and then about it's unusual contents. Best case scenario was that they didn't join him, which would allow him to explore the vault, but not for very long as they'd be waiting for him and would want to know why he'd taken so long. Considering the contents of the vault, Harry really wanted to spend a significant amount of time at Gringotts to look over everything his mother had seen fit to leave in there. But how was he to do that? If he asked his uncle to take him, the man would only yell at him and then congratulate himself for having denied him something else.

Harry punched his pillow in frustration as he attempted to find a comfortable sleeping position. He just had to get to that vault. Not only did it contain possessions of his parents, but it also held evidence about his father's character. It would show him what Snape had been like with his mother; whether or not he was anything like he was today. Something which could drastically alter the way he viewed the man.

With a growl, Harry tossed once more. He really needed to get into that vault, but he also needed his sleep. He was dead tired as it was during the day, what with nightmares and visions waking him up most nights. He didn't know which he hated more, the nightmares or the visions. To him the nightmares struck a far more personal chord as they consisted of the third task, Cedric's death and his confrontation with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But at least they weren't real. They only incorporated bits and pieces of his memories along with a huge helping of guilt and imagination. The visions, however, were very real.

Too real.

With them he would see the Dark Lord himself, mostly on raids where Muggles or Muggleborns were tortured and killed. He could do absolutely nothing but helplessly watch as this occurred. He hated being so powerless. The positive aspect, if it could be called that, of the nightmares was that when he woke, it was over. With the visions he still had to deal with the residual pain in his scar and the knowledge that it had really happened to some poor soul. Both, though, disrupted his much needed sleep, leaving him constantly tired from all the work he was required to do each day. And that was not to mention the energy required for his sudden growth spurt.

Harry blinked as a new thought came to him. What if this sudden change in height wasn't due to natural causes? What if it was the result of the Aspectus Commutatus* spell breaking down? His mother had said it would wear off on his fifteenth birthday, and he knew enough about charms to know that they weren't entirely accurate as far as the length of time they lasted was concerned. So this could be the first of many changes yet to come. After all, Snape was tall and his mother hadn't been short, so there was a good chance that he wouldn't remain small for much longer.

The thought made Harry smile. He'd always hated being short as it had given other people an advantage over him. Dudley and his friends had used it to try to intimidate him as had Malfoy and Snape, the latter most successfully of the lot. It was also annoying as he could never look over people when somewhere crowded, like Diagon Alley. It was comforting to know that he wouldn't remain small for the rest of his life. And since neither Snape nor his mother had curls, his hair should straighten out and become manageable too. He'd finally be able to comb it and see a difference!

His joy abruptly left him as he thought of the other changes he'd undergo too. Based on his mother's assessment, the only things that wouldn't change about his face were his eyes and nose. The rest would morph to look like his apparent father. Harry attempted to picture his potions professor's face with his nose and eyes, but hastily shook his head to try to dislodge the resulting mental image. Once he'd succeeded in doing so, he found his breathing and pulse had accelerated. He really didn't want to look like that! To have his appearance completely altered was bad enough, but to have it morph into Snape's was simply too much to bear! Perhaps Professor Dumbledore would be able to recast the spell after he'd had a look at the instruction sheet his mother had left in the vault.

Satisfied, Harry relaxed once more before a new thought came to him. What about his scar? Was that really a part of him? It was strange, because he would have assumed that if it was a part of the real him that the spell would have covered it up. Yet it had to be real instead of an illusion since it had the ability to both hurt him and make him have visions. So why did it show now? Were curse scars special? Could they not be hidden? He'd have to ask the Headmaster about it, if he could do so without arousing suspicion.

He was just starting to drift off when his mother's nickname for Snape floated to the top of his mind.

"Nista," he whispered softly, trying out the foreign word.

It felt weird saying it, knowing his mother must have used it often. Yet it rolled off his tongue so easily. Harry had a sudden urge to know what the pet name meant. After all, it would give him some more insight into how his mother viewed Snape. It could tell him something about the ebony haired wizard that he didn't already know. But how could he uncover the meaning? He didn't have any books on Latin and the Dursleys wouldn't let him go to the town library even if he hadn't promised Professor Dumbledore that he wouldn't leave the house. His only option was to ask Hermione if he didn't want to wait until he returned to Hogwarts. Needing to know, Harry determined to call his friend as soon as he could do so.

Content, the emerald eyed boy finally allowed sleep to claim him.

* * *

"Wake up, boy!" Vernon growled as he banged his fist on the door once after unlocking it. "Make me my breakfast."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied automatically as he instantly snapped awake.

He had long ago learned to wake up quickly or face punishment for being lazy. Harry hurriedly rolled out of bed and changed before heading to the bathroom to pee and wash his face. That done, he made his way downstairs and commenced to get his uncle's breakfast ready, sighing once as he saw that his suspicions from the previous evening were correct. Stacked on the counter next to the sink were the dirty dishes from dinner along with a pile of white cloth which was no doubt the napkins and table covering. Even though he wasted no time, he only just managed to finish his first task of the day when his mother's brother-in-law came downstairs and seated himself at the table, a piece of paper in his hand.

"These are your chores for today," Vernon stated as he placed the list on the table. "See that they're done before dinner."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry responded as he placed the prepared plate of eggs, toast and bacon before the man.

"Take a slice of bread and then get on with your work."

"Yes, Sir," Harry said before he devoured his meagre meal.

If he was lucky, Aunt Petunia would later assume that he hadn't yet eaten and give him some more to eat when she and Dudley got up and had breakfast. As soon as he was finished with his food, he picked up the list and read it. As expected, he was required to clean up yesterday's mess as well as changing the sheets on all the beds (except his of course), wash the windows, clean Petunia's car, mow the lawn, water the flowers, iron the clothes he'd cleaned the other day and then, since it was Tuesday, he'd have to unload and put away the groceries his aunt would go out and buy. Not to mention the fact that it was now routine for him to prepare all the meals when no one came over.

Harry quickly decided to leave the dishes until after his aunt and cousin had eaten breakfast as there was no point in wasting time repeating chores. Folding the paper and putting it in his pocket, he headed to the storage closet to get the iron and plank, hopefully he'd be able to get at least half of the ironing done before his aunt and cousin got up.

As soon as he was busy ironing a pair of his uncle's pant, his thoughts drifted back to the decision he'd made just before falling asleep. He needed to know whether or not Nista meant anything. If it did, it might shed some more light on his newly found father's personality. After all, pet names were often based on some aspect of a person's character. Luckily for him, Hermione had given him her phone number on the train ride home, just in case he needed anything seeing how he'd be unable to leave the house this summer. He'd seen fit to memorize it as he knew that if he did need help, that he probably wouldn't be in possession of his trunk, which happened to be the case.

Now all he needed was the opportunity to use the phone. The Dursleys didn't trust him enough to allow him to call anyone, especially after the disastrous incident when Ron had attempted contacting him via phone the summer before third year. They said he'd only utilize it to call other 'freaks' or to get into trouble. No, the only way he'd be able to call Hermione was if there was no one at home. With his uncle off to work and his aunt out grocery shopping for at least part of the day, there was a possibility of him having a chance today if Dudley went off somewhere.

Now that he thought about it, he remembered that Piers Polkiss had asked Dudley to join him when he went to see some new movie that was playing at the local cinema. If his memory served him right, that was today at half past three. He'd just have to wait and see.

* * *

"I'm going shopping," Aunt Petunia announced at one thirty as she walked into the living room where Dudley sat before the TV, watching "The Great Humberto" and munching on his seventh snack of the day, while Harry was busy cleaning the windows.

"Okay," Dudley mumbled, spraying the couch with crumbs from his overstuffed mouth.

"I should be back in two hours, don't forget that you need to leave for Piers' house by three if you don't want to be late," Petunia said before she turned to her nephew. "Watch what you're doing!" she shouted. "You're leaving streaks. Can't you do anything right?"

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied through clenched teeth as he redid the spotless window.

"You'd better be. Don't think that you can get away with doing a second rate job, cause you can't! You're as lazy as your mother was. The moment she could use her devilry to do anything and everything she did, not even bothering to do the simplest things the normal way. Lazy, worthless woman!"

It took all of Harry's willpower to refrain from defending his mother. Much as he wanted to, he knew it wasn't worth it. If he did anything now, then his uncle would severely punish him for it as soon as he returned home from work and Petunia told him of it. Besides, he knew his aunt did it to get him angry and he wasn't going to take the bait. Not when he couldn't afford the consequences of his actions. This last thought was confirmed when his stomach growled loudly.

With a last stern look at the raven haired boy, Petunia left.

Harry observed his cousin for a few moments before allowing himself to relax. Often Dudley would pounce on him the instant they were left alone in the house, but for now his interest was captured completely by the show he was watching. Hoping it would last until he needed to go to his friend's house, Harry turned back to his work. He managed to make his way to the last window that needed cleaning before he found himself at the centre of his cousin's attention.

"It's just you and me right now, freak," Dudley stated with glee, his beady eyes full of malice.

"What do you want?" Harry questioned, trying to judge what his cousin had in store for him.

"Just a spot of fun," Dudley replied, eyeing him before he swung his huge leg back and kicked over the bucket of soapy water Harry was using.

"No!" Harry yelped as he leapt over the spreading puddle of dirty water and managed to pull his aunt's prized rug out of the way just in time. If it had gotten wet, or damaged in any way, he'd have been in major trouble as it had been a wedding gift from his uncle's parents.

"You're in trouble now!"

Harry simply glared at the enormous boy as he debated on whether or not he should run for a mop. If he didn't, than the water could soak into the wooden flooring and cause stains as well as spread and possibly damage the furniture and walls, but if he did then there was no telling what Dudley would do while he was absent.

"Wait till Daddy hears that you spilt the dirty water all over the floor!" Dudley said, his pudgy face lighting up with sadistic joy. "You'll be properly punished for being the clumsy freak that you are."

A snarl escaped Harry's mouth before he could help himself. He wanted nothing more than to go upstairs, get his wand and curse his cousin, but he knew he couldn't. He was just pondering the possibility of threatening to curse the older boy when he heard the clock chime. Realizing what time it was, he smiled.

"What?" Dudley demanded, unnerved at his cousin's sudden change of mood.

"Oh, nothing," Harry replied nonchalantly. "It's just that it's three and if you don't hurry, Piers will leave for the movie without you."

"No!" Dudley squeaked in horror as his small eyes opened as wide as they could before he wobbled out of the room as fast as his tremendous weight would allow to get ready.

Not wasting a moment, Harry himself rushed to the storage cupboard to get the mob before hurrying back. He cleaned up the mess as fast as he could and was immensely thankful to find that the water hadn't stained the wood, nor had it been able to damage any of the furniture. Picking up the sponge he'd been using, he gave the window he'd been working on a final swipe before putting all of the equipment into the bucket. As he drained the remaining water and put everything away, he heard his cousin's laboured breathing as he heaved himself up the stairs. Shaking his head, he headed to the kitchen and turned his attention to the dishes waiting for him there.

Several minutes later, the house shook slightly as Dudley thundered down the stairs and left, slamming the door shut behind him. Harry waited for two minutes before rushing to the living room and looking out of the window. Seeing his cousin waddle around the corner at the end of the street, he smiled and quickly headed back to the kitchen and picked up the phone. Dialling the number, he desperately hoped that his friend would be home.

"Hello, Granger residence," a male voice stated several seconds later.

"Hello, Mr. Granger?"

"Yes, that's me," the man replied. "Who is this, please?"

"My name is Harry, I'm a friend of Hermione's from school. I was wondering if I could talk with her, please."

"Yes, just a moment," Mr. Granger said before Harry heard a distant. "Hermione! Phone call for you."

"Who is it, Honey?" a female voice questioned on the other end of the line.

"One of her Hogwarts friends. Funny, though, I thought wizards didn't use phones."

"They don't, but not all of Hermione's friends come from wizarding families."

Harry smiled as he shook his head. Absently he wondered if people calling his family could so clearly hear everything said in the room when they called. He definitely hoped not as he didn't want the neighbours knowing how he was treated by the Dursleys.

"Hello," Hermione's voice said across the phone. "Harry?"

"Yep, it's me," Harry confirmed.

"Is everything all right? Your aunt and uncle aren't giving you too much trouble, are they?"

"No, no, everything's fine here," Harry lied smoothly. "They've finally decided to leave me home alone when they go out, which is why I'm actually able to use the phone. I'm not sure when Aunt Petunia is supposed to come back, though, so if I hang up abruptly, it's because she's home."

"You sure you're all right?" Hermione repeated, clearly not convinced.

"Yes, fine."

"If you say so."

"I called to ask you something," Harry stated, clearly picking up the disbelief in his friend's tone.

"Oh, what?"

"I was wondering if you have any clue what Nista means."

"Nista?"

"Yes, N - I - S - T - A," Harry spelt out, wanting to make sure that she got it right. "I think it may be Latin, but I'm not certain. I'm pretty sure that it means something, but I'm not sure what and I don't have the resources to find out. Nor the skills for that matter."

"That's because you never took the time to acquire them," Hermione scolded. "If you would only spend more time in the library with me instead of fooling around with Ron and the other boys then you would know exactly how to do things like these."

"I don't spend all my time fooling around," Harry replied defensively.

"But you spend far too much time discussing Quidditch and not enough time with your school work."

"Something which has allowed us to win the Quidditch cup for three years straight," Harry pointed out. "Before we came to Hogwarts, Slytherin had had it for the previous seven years!"

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't spend any time practicing, just not as much," Hermione clarified. "But I'll see what I can come up with. Do you have any idea, even a vague one, of what it could mean? That might help."

"Eh... no," Harry lied uncomfortably.

"In what context was the word?" Hermione pressed. "Did you find it in a document, a text, what?"

"Um, a letter."

"A letter? What kind of letter? A business one?"

"No, a personal one," Harry said as he sought to change the topic. "Hey, are you going to go to Bulgaria this summer? You never did tell Ron and me whether or not you'd accepted Krum's offer."

"Em, yes, I am," came the flustered reply. "I'm leaving in two days actually and won't be back until the week before vacation ends. Don't tell Ron, he doesn't know yet."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," Harry promised before he stiffened as he heard a car outside. "Listen, Mione, I think my aunt is back so I've got to go. I'll see you in school and have a great time in Bulgaria."

"Thanks, I'll owl you as soon as I find anything on Nista."

"Great, bye."

Quickly, Harry hung up the phone and rushed back to the sink. He had just fished a plate out of the soapy water and was beginning to scrub it when the front door opened and his aunt entered.

"Boy!" Petunia called out as she took off her shoes and put them it in the closet.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?"

"What are you doing?"

"Washing the dishes."

"Leave that for now and go empty the car," Petunia ordered. "I went grocery shopping and some of what I bought will go bad if it's left out in the heat too long."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied as he put the plate back into the water and dried his hands.

The Boy-Who-Lived quickly put his shoes on and rushed outside to the car, knowing there'd be hell to pay if anything went bad. Opening the booth, he groaned as he saw that it was stuffed full of bags. He knew from past experience that there were probably more bags on the back seat too. And yet even this enormous amount of food wouldn't last more than a week with the copious quantities Vernon and Dudley consumed at each meal. His stomach growled as he peeked into the different bags and caught sight of some of his favourite things.

With a sigh, Harry grabbed two bags and lifted them before heading back into the house. There he deposited them on the kitchen table before heading back out for the next load. Ten minutes later, he had finally emptied the booth and was just lifting two of the big bags from the back bench when he stiffened as he heard the hooting of an owl.

Startled, Harry glanced up at the sky and saw a grey owl circling above him, a letter attached to one of it's legs. A quick look around told him that there was no one out to observe what was going on, nor was his aunt looking out of any of the windows. Relaxing, he put the bags down and held out his hand for the owl. It swooped down and held out it's leg. Harry loosened the letter as fast as he could before stroking the owl's feathers.

"Thanks for bringing the letter. I'd give you a treat if I could, but I can't."

The owl regarded him with it's brown eyes for a moment before letting out an angry hoot.

"Shh!" Harry said urgently as he glanced at the house once more. "You'll attract my aunt's attention and then I'll be in big trouble! I really wish I could give you something but I can't."

At this the owl spread its wings and took off. Watching it go, Harry thought longingly of Hedwig. Knowing that the Dursleys would not have forgotten the incident with Dudley and the Ton-Tongue Toffee at the end of last summer's vacation, he had wisely decided to leave Hedwig with Ron for the summer as he was sure that she wouldn't be welcomed here. He'd known it was the right thing to do when his uncle had taken away his trunk the instant he'd entered the house despite comments of how his godfather would disapprove. If he hadn't had the foresight to hide his wand, some parchment, a quill and ink in his clothing, he'd have lost access to everything.

The knowledge that his aunt would soon start wondering what was taking him so long made Harry stuff the letter into his oversized shirt before picking up two bags and hauling them inside. It took only four more trips before he'd brought all the groceries inside where he then began putting them away before turning his energy back to the dishes and his other chores.

* * *

It was evening by the time Harry was finally allowed to head up to his room where it would be safe to read his letter. Pulling it out of his shirt, a cursory glance revealed the Hogwarts' emblem on the wax seal.

"Strange," Harry muttered to himself as he opened the letter. It should be at least another few days before the textbook and supply list came for the upcoming school year.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

---------------

Dear Mr. Potter,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have recently received an owl from Mrs. Weasley asking me whether or not it would be possible for you to spend some part of the summer vacation with her family at the Burrow. As this matter concerns yourself, I thought it best to inform you of my decision. In light of the Ministry's continued refusal to acknowledge Voldemort's return despite an increase in attacks on both Muggles and Muggleborns, and therefore their refusal to take any steps to counter him, I must forbid you from leaving number 4 Privet Drive.

The risk is simply too great.

The wards placed around your home will protect you from the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters but they can only do so only if you are inside the house. If you leave, even to go to a wizard home, you would be opening yourself to an attack. Voldemort has clearly shown in the past that he has no mercy and will kill all who stand in his way to get what he wants. It would simply be unsafe for both yourself and the Weasleys for you to go visit them.

The danger is such that I must also forbid you from going to Diagon Alley this year. Your school books and other supplies shall be purchased for you and be delivered along with the bill to Gryffindor Tower at the start of school. A Ministry car will also pick you up at your home on the 1st of September to bring you to King's Cross station to catch the Hogwarts Express as the predictability of your leaving the wards on that day provides the perfect time for an attack.

I know that this will all come as a disappointment to you, but it necessary to ensure your continued safety.

Albus Dumbledore,
Headmaster of Hogwarts

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Harry stared at the letter in dismay, rereading it several times just to be sure that he'd read it right the first time round. He was now stuck with the Dursleys until the very end of summer! Despite Professor Dumbledore's earlier warnings, he'd still hoped to be able to visit Ron and his family during the last two weeks of vacation as Mrs. Weasley had told him that she believed it would be allowed when he'd seen her at the end of the last school year. Now those hopes were shattered.

Although he didn't want to endanger his friends, he really wanted to get away from the Dursleys as soon as possible. Why couldn't school be a year round event? He knew that his friends would hate that and he'd do too if he had a decent family to go home to, but he didn't. He smiled despite himself as he pictured the look of abject horror on Ron's face should he bring up the idea of doing away with summer vacation.

Harry's humour vanished as he reread part of the letter once more. How was the Headmaster able to convince the Ministry to have him picked up when they didn't even recognize Voldemort's return? Maybe Arthur Weasley or some contact Dumbledore had within the Department of Magical Transportation had been able to arrange it. The old wizard did seem to have connections in many places, probably due to his position at Hogwarts. As headmaster, he knew all the students who had gone through the school in the last few decades and, since he didn't teach anymore, he was on good terms with most students except those who'd done something so bad as to warrant being sent to him for punishment and the Slytherins who disliked him because their parents did.

Not only did the letter ruin his hopes for the rest of the summer, but they disrupted his plans to visit vault 968. How was he to get there now? It wasn't simply a matter of lying to Ron and Hermione about it anymore, but of getting there at all! Since he was unable to go to the Weasleys, there was no way for him to get to Diagon Alley unless his uncle took him and he didn't see that occurring anytime soon.

Unless...

Harry smiled to himself as an idea started to form. Vernon hadn't gotten a copy of this particular letter so he didn't know about the fact that he didn't need to purchase books and other supplies this year. He could simply say that that was the reason why he needed to go in to London. And if he went soon then he wasn't likely to run into anyone he knew as the school supplies didn't go on sale until mid-August this year. He would just have to disguise his appearance enough so that no one would recognize him and he'd be all set. That way no one would know it was him and thus there's be no questions about the vault and its contents.

The elation abruptly left Harry as his promise to Dumbledore came back to him. He had given his word that he wouldn't leave number 4 Privet Drive alone without an other, older, wizard accompanying him. As if that wasn't enough, the ancient professor had reiterated the dangers once more in his letter. Dangers which lay at the heart of the reason why he'd have to remain with his relatives rather than go to the Burrow and to Diagon Alley. He didn't want to break his promise, but he also really wanted, no needed, to see what was in vault 968. It held the keys to his past as it could tell him what kind of man Snape had been. It could show him whom his mother had fallen in love with. Not only that, but it contained information about the spell on him as well as objects his mother had possessed.

How was he to get all of that if he kept his promise? He could probably ask Professor Dumbledore to have someone take him to Gringotts on a weekend after school started, but it wasn't a sure thing that he would be allowed to do so. And even if he was granted permission, his chaperone would definitely insist on joining him in the cart and possibly even further and he didn't want that. He just had to do this on his own and with a lot of free time, something which he wouldn't have if someone accompanied him as they wouldn't want to spend hours waiting outside the vault.

Besides, with his luck Snape would be the only adult available to go with him and then things would, without a doubt, go wrong. The ebony clad wizard would probably follow him right into the vault before freezing in his tracks whereupon he'd be forced to explain everything instead of shifting through the contents of the vault and coming to a conclusion about his biological father's personality in the past.

So that left him with no choice but to break his promise if he wanted to have some undisturbed time alone in Gringotts. Sighing, Harry sat down on the wobbly chair before Dudley's old desk. Despite his misgivings he would do it; he would go to Diagon Alley if he could. There was simply no other option. If he had the luxury of time, he would hold off for a while, possibly until the following summer as he also feared what he'd uncover, but time, unfortunately, was not on his side. Not only would it be downright cruel to Snape to keep the truth hidden any longer than absolutely necessary, but the Aspectus Commutatus* spell was also breaking down.

Besides, the headmaster's letter implied that predictability played a part in the danger he was in if he left the safety of the wards and his going to Gringotts wasn't a foreseeable event. No one knew that he was going to go so early except for himself, so it wasn't possible for Voldemort or a Death Eater to plan an ambush or a kidnapping. And if he disguised himself properly, they wouldn't even know it was him if he ran into any of them.

Harry nodded his head, that was decided then. Now all he needed was the means for actually getting to London. There was no way his uncle would simply take him out of the blue. No, Vernon would need to have a reason for going himself. He'd need to listen and be ready for when an opportunity presented itself. Which meant that he should put together a disguise right now. His clothes wouldn't be a problem, he'd simply wear some of his more baggy items seeing how he normally wore his least baggy ones when in the Wizarding World. A little bit of make-up from his aunt would take care of the scar and he was sure he could take some without her noticing. But what about his hair? While most people wouldn't necessarily recognize him without the scar, he knew Tom probably would. The owner of the Leaky Cauldron had seen him often enough not to need the lightning bolt as a means of identification.

Unless the Aspectus Commutatus* spell decided to wear off of his hair next there wasn't much he could do about it. No matter how hard he tried to tame it, it always was a hopeless mess of curls. Harry paused as he thought of this. Was it possible that this was the result of the spell? That both his and Aunt Petunia's efforts to alter it had failed because the spell was modelled after his fa... James Potter's appearance and he had that type of hair? It could well be a short coming of the spell, that it couldn't be altered and always remained the same.

Harry sighed in frustration. It was a pity that Dudley didn't share Draco Malfoy's love of hair gel, otherwise he would have been able to use that to flatten out the curls at least temporarily.

He suddenly brightened as a new thought occurred to him. Several years ago his cousin had dressed up as Han Solo for a party and had gotten a brown wig as Aunt Petunia had flat out refused to allow her 'Sweetums' to 'ruin' his beautiful blond hair by dying it. Personally, Harry had believed Dudley would have made a far better Jabba the Hutt than a Han Solo, but he'd wisely remained silent. He was sure that he'd seen the wig lying in the attic when he'd gone up there at the beginning of the vacation to put away yet another box full of old toys Dudley didn't use anymore. No one would notice if he used it once and then put it back. Actually, they'd probably never notice if he took it and kept it as there was no way his cousin would fit into that particular outfit ever again.

Costume decided, Harry determined to get it together as soon as possible. That way he'd be ready to go at a mere moment's notice.