Echoes from the Past

The ringing of the phone woke Harry and, as usual during the summer, he woke completely. Squinting at his clock, he groaned when he saw that it was only six o'clock. Who in the bloody hell was calling the Dursleys at this godforsaken hour in the morning?! Even Uncle Vernon didn't get up until seven when he had to leave for work. Though, if what he'd heard on the TV when he was cleaning the living room the other day was correct, Americans got up far earlier than Europeans did. Something about the sun rising sooner there or so. Not that that little fact explained anything as Grunnings didn't have any overseas investors as far as he knew. Besides, weren't Americans behind by like five hours anyhow?

"Persistent bugger," Harry muttered as the phone kept ringing.

It was amazing how quickly his uncle reacted if he made any noise at night and yet it took him several minutes to reach over and pick up the phone on the stand next to his bed.

When silence finally settled over the house once more, Harry debated about going back to sleep or not but decided against it. By the time he'd get settled, his uncle would be bellowing at him to get up and commence his chores. Chances also were that, if the call brought bad news, Vernon would get up earlier than usual and he'd need to be alert so as not to give the man an excuse to vent his anger on him. Not that he generally needed one to do so, but it helped not to provoke the volatile man.

*Zera?* Harry hissed in Parseltongue as he reached over and picked his glasses up from their place next to the clock. *Are you still awake?*

*Due to that talking machine I am,* an annoyed voice responded from his closet.

*It's not a talking machine,* Harry corrected with a smile as he slipped out of bed and opened his closet, lifting the uppermost sweater to reveal his familiar.

*It sssoundsss like you and other humansss.*

*That's because it transmits a human's voice,* Harry explained, amused. *It allows people to talk to each other across long distances.*

*Like fire talk?*

*Yes, it's similar but without any magic.*

*How do the Mugglesss do it then?*

*They use something called electricity,* Harry stated. *The same energy that's used to charge their lights and a whole array of other appliances.*

*I sssee,* Zera replied as she lazily lifted her head and allowed the young wizard to stroke it.

*Are you hungry?* Harry inquired softly.

He'd managed to take quite a few eggs from the fridge before Aunt Petunia had started to get suspicious. The fact that he made breakfast and that he hadn't taken them consecutively but only on those days that he couldn't sneak Zera outside had helped. The weight he'd gained as a result of Mrs. Weasley's pies and quiches, had not. His aunt had taken to counting the eggs before and after each meal and then the number of egg shells used in preparation of said meal. The first time she'd done so, he'd been severely punished for having stolen food that 'precious little Ickle Diddykins' desperately needed as he was a growing boy. It had taken all his willpower to refrain from asking her if she had, by any chance, noticed the inches he'd been putting on over the past few weeks and whether or not that qualified him for said vital food. He'd wisely remained silent, not wanting to get even less food then he currently was.

*Yesss,* Zera answered. *But I don't want you getting into trouble again for me. Your own sssupply of food isss quickly running out.*

*I know,* Harry sighed.

Due to his punishment, he'd gotten no food for three days and had been forced to eat more pies then he'd intended to over the past week and was rapidly depleting his stash. It was as if his stomach decided that now that he ate regularly, that it wanted even more food than normal.

*I hate growing,* the young wizard muttered.

While he'd gained back some of the weight he'd lost upon returning from Hogwarts, the majority of what he consumed seemed to go straight into additional growth in the vertical direction rather than in girth. Not only was it the cause of his near constant hunger, but it was also a very vivid reminder of his newfound heritage. He was sure that he was close to Ron's height at the present and was showing no signs of stopping either!

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by a strange but pleasant hissing sound.

*What are you laughing at?*

*Mossst young onesss want nothing more than to grow up,* Zera explained. *Impatiently waiting for it to occur.*

*Well, I'm not a normal boy, now am I,* Harry replied bitterly before he calmed down. *Sorry, you didn't deserve that.*

*That'sss okay, you have a lot on your mind.*

*Thanks. What would I do without you?*

*Be hopelessssssssly lossst and confusssed,* quipped the red milk snake.

*Is sarcasm a snake trait or is it just my luck that I've run into those few that are?*

*What do you mean?*

*Well, there's you, Snape, the Malfoys...* Harry began but froze in place when he heard movement from his aunt and uncle's room. *Never mind. I'll try to get you outside later today so that you can hunt.*

*Okay,* Zera said as she curled herself up. *Until then.*

*Until later,* Harry replied before he placed the sweater over her.

He really hoped that he'd have the opportunity to let her out as she always managed to eat enough for several days when she was able to catch her own food. Quickly, Harry got dressed and was ready and waiting for when Vernon opened the door to his room.

"Awake, are you? Good. Go wash yourself and then get started on breakfast," the man ordered, his multiple chins quivering with each word. "I need to go to work after all it seems."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry responded as he nimbly darted past the man and made for the bathroom.

* * *

"But I thought you had vacation!" Dudley whined as he plopped down into his chair which groaned loudly in protest.

"Yes, Vernon, why can't you have anyone else go in?" Petunia inquired. "We were going to go to that new restaurant for lunch."

"Hendrickson got ill and we need to have either him or the director of the company present at the meeting," Vernon explained. "Therefore, it is only natural that I have to go represent Grunnings in his absence. This could be an important day for, if we can make this deal, the company will profit greatly. Just imagine all the extra money we'll make if it succeeds!"

"More money?" Petunia questioned, her face lighting up instantly. "That had better be a good breakfast you've got there, boy! Your uncle will need all his energy today!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry stated, practically seeing the greedy gleam in her eyes.

He just knew that she was already thinking of everything she could buy with more money. Not to mention how she'd be able to flaunt it before the neighbours.

"Does this mean that I can have that new computer game Piers heard of?" Dudley demanded eagerly, wobbling on his chair.

As he brought the frying pan to the table to start serving his aunt, Harry winced, hoping that the chair wouldn't break when he was near his cousin as he'd surely be blamed for it then. Especially considering that it was already a specially strengthened one in order to hold Dudley's massive weight.

"Of course, Sweetums," Petunia promised instantly. "The moment your father comes home, we shall go buy it."

"Indeed we will," Vernon confirmed as he watched Harry put his eggs and bacon on his plate. "You didn't steal anymore eggs, did you, boy?"

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"I'll be checking as soon as I'm done," Petunia warned sternly. "Honestly, what were you thinking? After all that we've done for you, you repay our sacrifices by stealing!"

Harry grounded his teeth together in an effort to remain silent as he put the pan in the sink before taking his seat at the table before an empty plate.

"Take a slice of bread," Vernon ordered, though it came out considerably less clear than normal as his mouth was full and he sprayed himself with bits of egg in the process.

"Thank you, Uncle Vernon," Harry forced himself to say as he tried to hide his disgust.

"What time will you be back, honey?" Petunia inquired.

"The conference should be over at three and then I have to drive back from London," Vernon replied.

"London?" Harry asked, instantly interested. "You're going into London today?"

"Yes. What's it to you?"

"I... well... I... I need to get my school books for next year."

"Eek!" Dudley squealed before he fell out of his chair in fright, causing the window panes to rattle as he hit the floor.

Petunia screamed and instantly ran to her son's aid; her face drained of all colour.

"What have I told you about mentioning your abnormality and freak school in this house!" Vernon thundered as his face turned a livid shade of blotchy purple.

"Not to do so," Harry replied meekly, fascinated at the way his uncle virtually shook with rage. It couldn't be healthy for him, doubly so considering the constant strain his body already underwent simply to support his enormous amounts of flesh.

"Then why did you do it?" Vernon demanded as he sluggishly lumbered to his feet.

"Ungrateful freak," Petunia muttered accusingly as she vainly attempted to help her son get up.

"It's just that if I don't have my books, the professors will ask why and they may even send someone over here," Harry lied quickly as he tensed in his seat, ready to bolt should the need arise. "You know, to check in that you were aware and all that. So, since you were going into London anyway, I figured now would be the best time. You can drop me off before you go to your meeting and then pick me up afterwards without any inconvenience to yourself."

"Dealing with you is always an inconvenience," Vernon snapped as he stopped to consider the situation. "I won't tolerate any of those freaky teachers of yours coming here. They'd alert the entire neighbourhood to your abnormality!"

"Vernon, give me a hand over here, Duddykins can't get up," Petunia interrupted as she finally gave up trying to hoist him to his feet.

"Give me your hand, Dudley," Vernon said as his attention wavered to the boy who was floundering around in a hopeless attempt to right himself.

Harry waited with batted breath as he watched his aunt and uncle pull his cousin upright. Devoting time and attention to his son was one of the best ways to get Vernon to calm down. Provided that Dudley didn't make up some complaint about him, of course. As he waited, his worry began to grow. What if his uncle said no? He doubted that another opportunity like this one would occur and, besides, Flourish & Blotts would start selling the school textbooks at the beginning of next week and then Diagon Alley would be flooded with students. Including his classmates and friends who were more liable to recognize him.

Ever since Zera had agreed with him that seeing the vault was probably the best way to learn more about Snape, his need to see it had increased even more as his thoughts had been validated. Everything hinged around his coming to know the man who had sired him and had loved his mother before he confronted the Potions Master. He wasn't sure what he'd do if he was denied transportation by his relatives, but had considered flagging down the Knight Bus. The only problem with that was that it amplified the chances of his discovery drastically as it would entail interacting with more people who'd seen him before and then there was the fact that there probably weren't very many wizards or witches in this part of Muggle England, at least that he knew of, and that increased the odds of the driver recognizing him due to the neighbourhood.

The chance was small, but it wasn't worth the risk if it could be helped. If the headmaster learned of his little excursion then he wouldn't even be able to explain why he'd broken his promise in the first place. After all the elderly wizard had done for him, he didn't want to repay him like that.

"You can come along," Vernon finally declared when he had gotten his spawn up off the floor. "But I won't wait for you. If you're not there on my way back, I'm leaving you, got that, freak?"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, concealing his immense relief and making a mental note to convert some of his wizard money to pounds so that he'd be able to get a cab back if necessary.

Vernon simply grunted as he returned to his seat and commenced shovelling food into his maw of a mouth once more.

"You'd better be ready for when your uncle leaves," Petunia stated as she waited until her precious son had reclaimed his seat before doing so herself.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry responded before he hastily finished off his meagre meal.

He then ran upstairs and carefully closed his bedroom door before opening his closet and pulling the uppermost sweater off of his pet.

*Zera, wake up!*

*What?* the snake hissed grumpily as she lazily opened an eye to regard him. *Isss it time to go outssside already?*

*No,* Harry answered excitedly. *But we're going into London, to Diagon Alley!*

*To the vault?*

*Yes!!*

*Will you be able to buy food there?* Zera inquired as she uncoiled herself.

*I'll be able to get anything you want,* Harry stated as he pulled the bag he'd prepared out of the closet.

Harry opened it and made sure that he had everything he needed for his disguise. Satisfied that it was all in there, he put the bag aside and got out some of his baggiest and ugliest clothes. They were pieces that he had never worn outside of the Dursley's home, so they wouldn't be familiar to anyone. He also pulled out a belt to ensure that the pants stayed put.

*Get on,* Harry instructed his familiar as he rolled up his sleeve and lowered his right arm to where she was. *You'll need to remain hidden and silent for most of the time.*

*That'sss okay,* Zera hissed as she wound her long, slender body around his lower arm. *I'll probably sssleep until we're there anyway.*

*You do that,* Harry said as he lowered his sleeve and made sure that there was no sign of her presence.

With a satisfied nod, the young wizard walked over to the loose floorboard and got his wand out from its hiding place. Although he wasn't legally allowed to use it, he wanted it with him just in case he did run into any trouble. Harry smiled to himself as he tucked the wooden item away in his pocket. Snape couldn't say he was blindly rushing into danger this time, he was fully prepared for what could come. Though his father was liable to bite his head off simply for leaving the house in the first place. He sighed at the thought. If only such a reaction was provoked by love and a genuine concern for his well being instead of as a means to ridicule him... Forcing the thought and pain aside, he got his mother's Gringotts key out along with his own and put them into the bag which he then picked up and slung over his left shoulder.

"Going to get your freak things, are you?" Dudley demanded the instant he left his room.

"Yep," Harry confirmed happily. "Some potions books, one for charms, one for history, and, last but by no means least, one on transfiguration. You know, turning people into pigs and all."

Dudley's eyes went wide as the blood rushed from his face, leaving him pale as a sheet. He quickly backed up, connecting with the wall with a loud 'thud,' causing it to shake and the pictures to rattle.

"N... no... you're ly... lying," the fat boy finally stammered.

"I'm not," Harry responded confidently. "In fact, that was what Hagrid was trying to do to you on that rock of an island four summers ago."

With a terrified squeak, Dudley fled to his room as Harry stood between him and the stairs. Smiling at the reaction he'd provoked, Harry turned around and headed downstairs. He'd probably end up paying for it later, but he was in high spirits and couldn't get himself to care. Besides, it was better to get punished for something he'd actually done, then simply because his uncle felt like it. It made the punishments more bearable.

"Your uncle has gone upstairs to get ready," Petunia informed her nephew when he entered the kitchen once more. "Clear the table while you wait."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry answered as he put down his bag and commenced his chore.

* * *

"Get out," Vernon ordered as he pulled the car up to the curb.

"But where are we?" Harry inquired as he looked at the unfamiliar neighbourhood.

"London, now get out of the car. I have a meeting to attend."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied as he opened the door and got out, knowing that this was the best he'd get from the man.

"I'll come by here when I'm done, if you're not here, then you're on your own," Vernon declared and sped away as soon as the car door was closed.

Left standing alone with his bag at his feet in Merlin knew what part of London, Harry felt the anger against his relatives grow. They were his family and thus supposed to treat him as such, not as some House Elf to be ordered around at will! He was meant to be loved, not hated or looked upon with disgust.

"Seems to be a family trait," the young wizard mumbled bitterly as he thought of his father's treatment.

The instant he'd said it, Harry regretted the harsh words. They weren't true. Snape, while treating him poorly, had never gone as far as the Dursleys. He'd never resorted to starving him and he got the impression that the man didn't truly want to see any of his students hurt. And he had saved his life back in his first year when Quirrell had tried to kill him. Plus Snape focused in on his status and fame when degrading him, not his actual self. True, he would make derogatory comments about his intelligence and abilities, but that all stemmed from his hate of his father. A hate he now understood much better then before. The Dursleys, however, enjoyed tormenting him because of who and what he was. It was personal with them in a way it never was with his potions professor. They also had no excuse for their behaviour, the Potions Master did. At least now that he knew the truth.

With a sigh, Harry looked around for a secluded spot where he could put the rest of his disguise on. Not finding anything appropriate and starting to attract strange looks from pedestrians on account of his clothes and, no doubt, his wild hair, he picked up his bag and began walking. The feel of the cool scales on his lower arm comforted him slightly and reassured him that he wasn't alone.

Five minutes later, the Boy-Who-Lived found a shaded alley. It wasn't the best place, but it would do. Entering it, he moved back and opened his bag, feeling around for the wig and pins to keep it in place. As he pulled it out, he couldn't help but shake it again. The thing had been absolutely filthy when he'd found it in the attic, covered in grim, dust, cobwebs, and Merlin only knew what else. Just like everything else up there. He sincerely hoped that his aunt didn't go up there anytime soon as he really didn't fancy the thought of having to clean up the place. Which he'd no doubt get assigned to do on the hottest day of August if Aunt Petunia saw it. Although it would be interesting to see what was up there. Aside from the heaps of broken or discarded toys, there were boxes and chests that had been there since before he could remember. Two light blue coloured chests with brass corners and large locks intrigued him greatly. Especially since they were locked tight with chains. Not that he considered doing hours of physical labour in a stifling room a reasonable price to pay in exchange for that knowledge.

Finally satisfied that the wig wasn't going to get any cleaner, Harry placed it on his head and proceeded to tuck his hair into it. Sliding in the pins as best he could, the young wizard secured the false hair into place. He then pulled out a small makeup kit and opened it, using the mirror to inspect his work. After tucking in a few errant strands of his mob of black hair, he was convinced that it was as good as he was going to get it.

"Merlin, I hope that this doesn't react with my skin," Harry uttered as he picked up the small sponge and dabbed it into the skin tone powder.

The makeup compact had been a free sample his aunt had received in the mail. Unfortunately for her, and to Harry's great amusement, it had had an adverse reaction to her skin, leaving her face red with a nasty rash for days afterwards. Funny as it had been, it had left Petunia in a foul mood which she'd vented mainly on him as she'd absolutely refused to show her face in public until the rash was gone. She'd thrown the kit out, but luckily he'd been able to salvage it and smuggle it up to his room.

A few dabs later and Harry was left gaping at how easily and effective the makeup concealed his scar. Other than a slight colour difference as his skin tone didn't quite match the makeup, there was no hint of the trademark scar that the majority of the Wizarding world worshipped. Harry shuddered at how weird it felt to look at a mirror and not see his own reflection looking back at him. That was going to take place on a permanent basis in the not-so-distant future. Or would he rather be seeing himself for the first time? It all, ironically enough, depended on how you looked at it.

Harry snapped the compact shut and dropped it back into the bag. He then pulled out an old brown hat he knew his uncle wouldn't miss and put it on, pulling it forward so that it would cast his eyes into shadow and hopefully make it less clear that they were green. Double checking that there was no one around, he rolled up his right sleeve.

*Zera?*

*Yesss?* Zera replied as she glanced up at him. *You look different.*

*Different enough, do you think?*

*Asss long asss you don't run into sssomeone you know really well. Even then they'd have to look twice before they'd recognize you.*

*Good,* Harry stated, pleased. *Now all I have to do is find a way to get to Diagon Alley and we're all set.*

*Can't you get a ride?* Zera inquired.

*No, I don't have any money, at least not any Muggle money, on me at the moment.*

*You could ssslither your way over there.*

*You mean walk?* Harry asked as he smiled. *But I don't know where it is in relation to wherever the bloody hell we currently are.*

*Ssslither, walk, sssame thing. Asssk sssomeone, you do have a mouth, don't you? Ussse it like you do at night.*

*Hey! I never heard you complaining. If I'm not mistaken, you're the one always asking me complex questions!*

*You ussse too many wordsss, sssaying thingsss the long way when a ssshorter one will do.*

*Hrmph!* Harry retorted as he walked back the way he'd come, stopping at the edge of the shadows to look at his red snake. *Fine, I'll remember that the next time I do homework or am awake.*

*We'll sssee,* Zera hissed just as Harry tugged the sleeve over her once more.

With a shake of his head and a big grin on his face, Harry stepped out of the darkened alley and looked both ways. Spotting a cafe with tables outside to the left, he headed towards it and waited for a server to finish taking a client's order before he approached the brunette.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" the woman inquired as she turned to face him, her eyes widening slightly in surprise as she took in his appearance. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to Charing Cross Road? Please."

"Charing Cross Road? Charing Cross Road? Ah, yes, I know where that is. It isn't exactly close by," she responded apologetically.

"That's okay, I'm in no hurry."

"Yeah, well, it's a good forty-five minute walk away. Anyway, just continue down this street until you get to the big intersection with Kennington Road. Take a right onto Kennington and follow it for several blocks until you get to a church at which you need to take a left onto Westminster Bridge Road. Follow that road until you get to the river Thames and Westminster Bridge. Cross the river and take the first right onto... umm... can't remember the name of the street right now, but it runs parallel to the Thames. Just stick to it until you reach Northumberland Avenue on your left. Follow the avenue to the end and you will come to a big intersection of six roads. The second one on your right will be Charing Cross Road."

"Thank you," Harry said as he tried to keep it all straight.

Oh, well, if he forgot it, he'd always be able to ask someone else.

"Sure, no problem."

The green eyed wizard set off at a brisk pace and soon made it to the intersection. As he waited for an opportunity to cross, he smiled as he read the words 'Look Right' painted in big white letters on the street just in front of the sidewalk. London was obviously prepared for American and continental European tourists who weren't used to having cars drive on the opposite side of the road. His amusement vanished as he wondered how many accidents and deaths it had taken before the government had realized the need to remind foreigners that the English drove on the left side of the road instead of the right side. Hopefully not many.

A minute later, he was able to cross and continued on his way. Harry reached the church and then the river Thames faster then he'd expected and stood in awe of the sight before him. Having only been in London a limited number of times before, he'd never had the chance to see any of the sights and the houses of parliament were a wonder to behold. Its intricate stone carvings and embellishments were breathtakingly gorgeous. And, standing proudly next to it, reaching into the, for once, cloudless sky, was Big Ben.

Upon seeing that it was already half past nine, Harry reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the magnificent structures and started walking across the bridge. He stopped occasionally to look down at the dark water rushing past beneath him and the various boats which floated past. The other side of the Thames was busier, full of tourists walking about and looking at the buildings and statues of Winston Churchill and Oliver Cromwell. His senses were instantly assaulted by the sights, sounds, and, most importantly, smells of vendors standing about with their stands. The aroma of the food some of them sold wafted about, causing his deprived stomach to growl. What would otherwise be less than appealing fare was heavenly compared to his meagre breakfast. If only he'd thought to grab a quiche before he'd left!

Harry forced himself on, but couldn't help put pause to look at some of the trinkets and souvenirs the other vendors were selling. Everything from t-shirts to spoons to key chains, all bearing some symbol of any one of London's famed sites, were displayed. He had to convince more then one vendor that he was absolutely sure that he didn't want any of the items no matter how well they were priced before he finally managed to cross the street. The first road on the right was the Victoria Embankment.

"Damn it!" Harry swore as he stopped a little ways down the street, ignoring the looks he received.

For the life of him he couldn't remember where the waitress had told him to go next. Since he couldn't go right, he went left onto Richmond Terrace. It was a short street that intersected with Whitehall. Across Whitehall, he could see Downing Street and knew that he was in the wrong place as he was sure he'd have remembered it if the waitress had mentioned that particular road.

"Need help?" an impeccably dressed and elderly man questioned as he slowly approached. "You look a little lost."

"Yes, I am. Can you tell me how to get to Charing Cross Road?"

"Charing Cross Road, or the Leaky Cauldron?"

"How'd you know?" Harry demanded in surprise before he looked down frantically, thinking either his wand or Zera had become uncovered. Or perhaps the makeup had come off leaving his scar visible.

"You have a magical aura about you," the wizard explained hastily upon noticing his panicked expression. "I've always been good at detecting them. It was very useful back in my Hogwarts days to avoid the professors at night."

"I can imagine," Harry replied as he relaxed.

"Hmm. But for your directions, you're very close. You simply need to go right and follow Whitehall to its end at a big intersection. There you will need the third street leading away from the intersection, doesn't matter whether you go right or left around as it is the third street from either direction. That's Charing Cross Road, and the Leaky Cauldron is not much further down."

"Thank you very much."

"Going to get your school supplies?"

"Yes," Harry lied smoothly.

"How are you going to carry them back without any Muggles noticing? They haven't removed that restriction against underage magic use, now have they?"

"No, they haven't. But I can ask the shopkeepers to shrink my stuff and my parents will undo it at home."

"Good, good," the elderly man nodded his head in approval. "Well, you'd best be getting on your way now. Before you go, though, let me give you a piece of advice. You should have those clothes you're wearing shrunk. I don't know who advised you on proper Muggle attire, but they were wrong, very wrong. Just thought I'd mention it in case you hadn't noticed it by now."

"Oh, yes... thanks," Harry said uncomfortably as he looked down at his outfit while pushing the sleeve of his left arm up. "Goodbye, Sir."

"Goodbye, lad."

'Lad?' Harry thought and shrugged inwardly as he turned right, continuing on his way.

As he got closer and closer to the wizarding district, butterflies appeared and took up residence in his stomach. Harry's heart speed up at the thought of what he might discover in the vault even while he tried to rein in his expectations so as not to be disappointed should there not be what he anticipated or as much as he yearned for. The latter in particular was a great danger as he knew that, deep down, he'd never be completely satisfied with any finite quantity of tokens or reminders of his parents. He simply wanted them. Both of them.

It was those feelings which leapt for joy at the revelation that he had a parent, no matter who that someone happened to be, alive. It wouldn't have mattered if it were Voldemort himself, as long as he was alive it would have been enough. The rest of Harry shuddered at the mere thought of the Dark Lord being his father, but filed the reaction away in his mind should things ever get to the point where he needed a reminder that it could be worse, far worse.

For all his attempts, his imagination ran wild, bucking and rearing. It conjured up all types of treasure the vault could contain, many far too grand and numerous for a normal Gringotts account to possess. Such physical dilemmas and impossibilities were ignored by a mind and heart starved for information and access to knowledge about those who had created him. About the one who had sired him.

The Leaky Cauldron seemed to take forever to reach and yet he was there far to soon, Harry only vaguely able to remember the large intersection along the way. All it would take was one look, a single glance, at the contents of the vault to shatter his dreams to dust. To dash his expectations. In some ways not knowing was heaven, in others it was hell. It was like waiting for the second proverbial shoe to drop.

Worry about his appearance and the possibility of being recognized pulled Harry from his spiralling thoughts. He quickly reached into his bag and took a discrete look at himself in the makeup compact's mirror to check that his scar was still out of sight. Satisfied that it was, he then carefully removed his glasses and placed them in one of the many pockets of his outfit. The world instantly became fuzzy except for those items close to him. Past experience had taught him that he could function without his glasses even if it made things far more difficult. Wiping the sweat from his palms, he approached the Leaky Cauldron. At the door, he hesitated briefly, drawing on his Gryffindor courage, before he entered. His first reaction was to nervously look around as soon as his eyes adjusted themselves to the darkened interior of the building. No one seemed to be paying any undue attention to him, not that many witches or wizards had glanced in his direction at all. Realizing that standing there, gapping about like an idiot was only going to make him stand out, he forced himself to start walking. It felt nice to be able to walk around the Wizarding world without having people staring at his forehead. Pity he was too strung out to fully enjoy it.

Harry was about half way across the room, having just dodged a chair as a witch got up, when he inadvertently looked up right into the innkeeper's eyes. Freezing in place, the young wizard felt his blood go cold and his eyes widen as he saw a flicker of recognition in Tom's brown orbs.

No, no, no! Harry thought desperately to himself. This could not be happening to him now! He had purposefully forced himself not to look towards the bar in fear of Tom's potential ability to see past his disguise. Yet the more he reminded himself not to do so, the harder it had become. Any second now, the toothless wizard would open his mouth and call out a greeting or exclamation of wonder like he'd done the first time he'd come here with Hagrid. He could already predict the reaction of the Cauldron's patrons and, with his track record, there'd be a reporter or photographer present to spread the news of how he'd tried to sneak into Diagon Alley undercover. How was he ever going to live this one down? How was he to explain his motivations? For he knew that if he didn't have a good reason for doing so, people would assume the worst and conjure up some ridiculous idea of him trying to get his hands onto something illegal. Especially after all those articles in the Daily Prophet last year.

He seriously doubted that Hagrid would conveniently show up in time to save him like he'd done three years ago in Knockturn Alley. Professor Dumbledore was already swimming into view before his eyes, his face devoid of any of its usual levity and the trademark twinkle absent from his clear blue eyes. The headmaster's reaction would be nothing like that of the general public's. His disappointment and silence would be in sharp contrast to the curiosity and scandal everyone else would no doubt overflow with like one of Neville's out of control cauldrons. From the noisy demands...

Tom's eyes continued on as he scanned the room. Harry felt his mouth drop open as he realized that he'd just panicked for absolutely nothing. Nothing but a figment of his hyperactive imagination. There had been no recognition in the bald man's eyes. No sign that the owner of the establishment knew him at all. In his anxiety, he'd created things that weren't there and nearly given himself a heart attack in the process.

"Brilliant! Bloody fantastic," Harry muttered sarcastically under his breath. "Get a grip, Potter."

The green-eyed wizard forced his breathing to return to normal as he hurriedly made for the door so that he could get out of the suddenly too small room. Reaching the dirty courtyard that concealed the entrance to the wizarding shopping area, he leaned against the wall and waited for his heart to stop running the marathon.

*Harry?* a soft voice whispered tentatively.

*Yes, Zera, what is it?* Harry inquired after a quick glance about confirmed that they were indeed alone.

*Are you alright?*

*Yes, why?*

*Your heart isss beating very fassst,* Zera explained as she shifted, her cool scales rubbing the skin of his forearm and wrist in the process.

*I managed to scare the living daylights out of myself, that's all. Nothing to worry about.*

*Oh. Are we almossst there?*

*Nearly.*

Once he was as relaxed as he was liable to get, Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the necessary brick three times in rapid succession. As the arched entry to Diagon Alley formed, he couldn't help but marvel at it once more. No matter what anyone said, the magical world was his home. He belonged there and not in the Muggle world. He simply didn't know how to truly function in it due to his upbringing. He briefly wondered what happened to Muggleborns who were expelled from Hogwarts, or any other magical school for that matter. After all, they had stopped their Muggle education at eleven, it wasn't like they could get any real job with that level of knowledge.

Harry was distracted from his thoughts by the bustle of activity from the alley. While there weren't nearly as many people as there had been the previous times he'd been there, the cobbled shopping lane was by no means empty. Witches and wizards drabbed in every colour robe imaginable wandered about, entering and exiting stores. The sounds of their conversations filled the air and blended with the racket from the Emporium's owls.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Harry entered the mix of magical folk. He kept his head down, only looking up occasionally to make sure he wasn't going to run into someone or something. It was during one of those instances that he caught sight of the broom on display in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Wow," Harry breathed in awe.

The broom was made of a dark, ebony coloured wood and was as sleek as the Nimbus 2001, yet elegant like the Firebolt. Unable to resist, Harry moved closer to the shop and peered into the window at the sign beneath the hovering broom. Squinting at it and mentally cursing his nearsightedness, he was finally able to make out the words.

** THE LIGHTENINGBOLT **

THE ALL NEW, STATE-OF-THE-ART QUIDDITCH BROOM FROM THE MAKERS OF THE FAMED FIREBOLT! THE FINE HANDLE OF BIRCH IS COMPLETELY STREAMLINED, TREATED WITH DIAMOND-HARD POLISH, AND COATED WITH AN ALL NEW POTION TO STRENGTHEN AND PROTECT IT. ITS HAND SELECTED OAK TWIGS ARE BOTH AERODYNAMIC AND CURSE RESISTANT, GIVING THE LIGHTENINGBOLT THE UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION OF ITS PREDECESSOR AS WELL AS PROVIDING BETTER PROTECTION FOR THE FLYER. THE ACCELERATION RATE IS A WHOPPING 200 MILES AN HOUR IN TEN SECONDS AND THE LIGHTENINGBOLT ALSO HAS AN IMPROVED VERSION OF THE UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM SO POPULAR WITH THE OWNERS OF THE FIREBOLT.

Harry's eyes were wide in awe and he ached with desire to touch and test the new model. If such a broom found its way into the hands of almost any of the good players on the other three house teams, they'd be hard to beat. Ravenclaw in particular if the skills of their new chaser were anything to go by. He'd accidentally seen one of their practice sessions last year and the girl was simply amazing! Apparently their captain was similar to Wood if he made them train even during a year in which there was no Quidditch.

A glance at the price tag was enough to make Harry wince. If he'd thought the Firebolt was expensive, it was nothing compared to the Lighteningbolt. Chances were not very many parents would be buying it for their children. At least that was a good thing. Yet it would be fantastic to play Quidditch again regardless of what broom anyone else had. Winning was fun, especially if he could defeat Slytherin, but it was only part of the game and, for him, the greatest thrill came from chasing the snitch itself. Regardless of whether or not he actually caught it.

With a sigh, Harry stepped away from the window and headed for Gringotts once more. He cast a last, longing, look at the broom and ran smack into someone. The force of the impact along with the suddenness of it, caused him to fall down on his arse. Blinking in surprise, he regarded the pair of highly polished, black dragon-hide shoes before him. He could see himself looking back from their glossy surface. Just above them was the hem of a very expensive, silver edged black robe. Looking up, he saw a menacing figure clad almost entirely in black with hints of maroon and silver towering over him. A pale face sneered down at him.

'Bloody hell!' Harry thought to himself.

Although he couldn't make out the person's facial features, only one wizard he knew possessed the long, silvery blond hair which framed the face of the man he'd run into. He was in deep trouble!

"How dare you run into me?!" Lucius Malfoy demanded as he glared down at the boy laying sprawled on the street at his feet.

Mentally cursing himself and his inattentiveness that had caused him to collide with the Death Eater, Harry tried to quell the rising panic in his chest. So far the pureblood had shown no signs of having recognized him. Not that he'd be able to see it in Malfoy Senior's light grey eyes if it were there. But if he did... Why hadn't he listened to Professor Dumbledore and stayed within the protective wards of the Dursleys' house?

"I asked you a question and I expect to be answered," Lucius hissed, bringing the tip of his snake head cane down into the boy's stomach.

"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, rolling over and scrambling to his feet as soon as the offending object was removed from his being.

"Well?" came the dangerous inquiry.

"I... I'm sorry... Sir," Harry mumbled, attempting to alter his voice slightly so it came out weak and sickly even as he swallowed his pride in order to get away from the dark wizard as fast as humanly possible. He also kept his head lowered so that the brim of his hat covered his eyes.

If worst came to worst, he could always call out for help as there were enough witches and wizards nearby who would, no doubt, step in to aid the Boy-Who-Lived and he did have his own wand on him. But that would mean having to tell someone about why he was in this situation in the first place. If Malfoy didn't manage to apparate away with him first, that was. The man was a powerful wizard and could quite possibly capture him despite the odds if he was willing to blow his cover.

"I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Obviously," Lucius drawled, pulling back slightly with a disgusted expression as if afraid to catch something. "You pathetic Mudbloods can never do things right, not even the simplest of tasks."

Harry felt his face flush with anger at the words. It was clear now where Draco learned his language, not that there'd ever been any doubt in his mind in the first place. What was interesting was the whisper the blond wizard had utilized. It made the insult harsher, but he couldn't help but wonder if, perhaps, it wouldn't do for someone of Lucius Malfoy's status and position to publicly use such vulgar language.

"Then how come one so pathetic scored higher than your son in the majority of their classes?" Harry retorted instinctively and then bit his tongue.

He really needed to learn to think before he spoke or acted. And soon. If he survived that is. Insulting Draco Malfoy to his father's face was nothing short of stupidity.

"What did you say?" Lucius demanded softly, letting the steel in his voice convey the danger the boy was in.

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly, automatically taking a step back as the Death Eater advanced a pace, seemingly forgetting about the possibility that the boy could be sick.

"Oh?" Lucius queried in a dangerous whisper, his left hand shooting out to hock the head of his cane behind the boy's upper arm. "I distinctly heard you insult my son!"

"I... no I..." Harry stuttered, wincing as the snake's fangs dug into his flesh as he was pulled forward.

Around his forearm, Harry felt Zera tense and move. Hoping she'd remain hidden and not give her presence away, he was thankful that he'd decided to place her there instead of on his upper arm. He lowered his head even more and looked at the cobbled stones as Malfoy pulled him right before him. His heart began to beat furiously and every muscle in his body tensed. The dark wizard was only inches from him and he could feel his breath on his face. If he looked up now, there was no way Malfoy would be unable to recognize him. Not after having been this close to him in Flourish & Blotts two years ago. As it was, only Draco's absence and Lucius' unfamiliarity with him were what prevented his cover from being blown. If Malfoy forced his head up, he'd be caught and there was no way he'd be able to get away with the Death Eater being this close to him.

"Lucius!" a voice called out from down the street.

"What is it, Walden?" Lucius demanded as he turned his head to glance at his fellow Death Eater.

"It's five to ten," Macnair stated as he got around the last people between them. "We need to go. Unless you want to keep Him waiting?"

Lucius growled before he looked back at the slightly trembling urchin before him. "If I ever see you again, you will pay for what you said," he threatened, shoving the boy aside with his cane and striding away with Macnair.

Harry let out the breath he hadn't been aware of holding in as he watched the two go, the crowd parting to let them through. Or, rather, to let Malfoy through as they hadn't parted for Macnair when he was alone. The young wizard felt anger flash through him at the thought. No matter what those about him may think of Muggleborns and the Dark Arts, they were indirectly condoning Malfoy's views by treating him the way they did. His attitude and personal attacks wouldn't be possible if enough people would only just have the courage to step in and stop him when he attempted to do so. Yet no one did and thus Lucius was allowed to continue.

As the two disappeared from view, Harry hoped they'd be late and that Voldemort would punish them. With a smile, he dusted himself off, relaxing in the process. That had been far too close for comfort! He'd literally been a breath away from discovery and didn't even want to think about what could have transpired if the Death Eater had realized just who had run into him. When he'd calmed down, he hastily made his way to Gringotts, ignoring all the shop windows lest he get distracted and run into someone else.

Soon, Harry stood before the enormous, snowy white wizarding bank with its burnished bronze doors. As usual, a scarlet and gold uniform clad goblin stood beside the door with two more of them just inside before the second set of doors; the silver ones with their engraved warning towards potential thieves. As they were opened to allow him admittance, he wondered just how Voldemort had managed to break into Gringotts four years ago as it was rumoured that the goblins used dragons and all manner of curses and enchantments to defend their vaults. Especially the high security ones.

Harry entered the huge marble hall that stretched out before him and approached the counter where about a hundred goblins carried out Gringotts business. He looked around and quickly found one that wasn't currently occupied.

"Excuse me," Harry began, drawing the creature's attention and noting his sceptical look upon seeing his clothes. "I'd like to access one of the vaults."

"Which one?" the goblin demanded as he pressed his long fingers together.

"Nine hundred and sixty-eight."

Instantly, a small spherical device that lay on the counter and was emitting a soft blue glow turned a violent red.

"Nine hundred and sixty-eight, hmm?" the goblin commented, eyeing the sphere critically before pulling a large ledger towards himself and opening it. He flipped through the pages before running his finger down a certain page, looking for something. "Ah, yes, one of our special cases."

"Special cases?" Harry inquired worriedly.

"The witch who opened this vault didn't restrict access to it as long as the person seeking admittance had the key. Do you have it, Sir?"

"Yes," Harry replied as he brought his bag up and felt around in it until his hand found the two cold metal objects, pulling them out and handing one to the clerk. "Right here."

"Let's see, now," the goblin stated as he took the tiny golden key and inspected it carefully. "Well, that seems to be in order. Is there anything else you will require?"

"Yes, I also wish to make a withdrawal from my other safe."

"And which one would that be?"

"Harry Potter's," the young wizard whispered, knowing that the goblins kept their business dealings private but not wishing to risk any of the other customers overhearing what he said.

"And you are?" the goblin demanded as he scanned the forehead of the wizard before him, failing to find the trademark lightening scar.

"I am the owner," Harry responded as he reached up to rub the makeup off his forehead. "I simply wish to avoid the media right now."

"I understand. Your key?"

As soon as the second key was confirmed, the goblin called over a colleague who was waiting beside one of the many doors around the hall. This goblin lead Harry through one of the numerous doors into a narrow stone passageway that ended at the tracks which guided the carts down the underground labyrinth to the many vaults. As usual, he enjoyed the breakneck journey with its many twists and turns. They soon passed the underground lake with its stalactites and stalagmites, and then they reached an enormous cavern Harry had never seen before on his trips to the different vaults. The walls of the cave glowed softly with a luminescent yellow glow, dimly illuminating the area. Looking around, he could see tracks coming from all directions and, at various points, crossing each other causing him to wonder if two carts ever collided or if they were charmed not to. Just as suddenly as they'd entered the cavern, they left it and continued on downwards.

Harry was beginning to wonder how far down they were as the air kept getting colder and colder. Then, just as he was about to question his goblin guide, the cart slowed and stopped beside a door in the passage wall. It was bigger than the one on his vault and those on the Weasley vault as well as vault seven hundred and thirteen, the one where the philosopher's stone had been kept before Hagrid had taken it to Hogwarts.

"Key," the goblin demanded as he held out his long fingered hand.

"Um, actually, I was wondering if it would be possible for you to leave me here? I would like to have some time to examine the contents of the vault."

"Hmm, yes, since its not a high security vault, that's possible. Whistle when you are done and a cart will be brought."

"Thank you," Harry replied as he got out, relieved.

He'd been a bit worried that his request would be denied as it could pose a security threat to leave customers unattended, but then, there was no way for him to easily get from one vault to another without a cart. Especially since he wasn't allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts yet.

"Later," the goblin said and the cart sped away in the direction they'd come from.

The moment the cart was out of sight, Harry rolled up his sleeve, exposing Zera to view. She instantly lifted her head and tasted the air with her tongue as she looked about.

*Isss thisss Gringottsss?*

*Yes,* Harry confirmed.

*It'sss nice.*

*I guess, if you like dark, damp, and smelly.*

*I do, it remindsss me of the earth.*

*Then you'll love the dungeonsss at Hogwartsss.*

*Good,* Zera hissed. *But what happened earlier? Your heartbeat sssped up again and you fell down.*

*I ran into Lucius Malfoy.*

*One of thossse Death Eatersss? The father of your rival?*

*Yes, that's correct,* Harry smiled.

*How did you get away?*

*He had to leave for a meeting with Voldemort.*

*Ironic,* Zera laughed.

*Indeed it is,* Harry agreed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the two vault keys, returning the one he didn't need. *Well this is it, the moment of truth where we find out just what my mother left me.*

*Yesss,* Zera hissed, her coils tightening ever so slightly around his wrist. *Relax, you're getting worked up again.*

*I can't help it. So much hinges on this moment, on what's on the other side of this door.*

Harry was about to say more when pain exploded behind his scar so suddenly that it knocked him to the ground. Gritting his teeth to prevent from crying out, as some part of his mind knew that if he inadvertently summoned a cart that there'd be a lot of explaining to do, he brought his hands up to his head.

*Harry? Harry, isss it a visssion?* Zera asked as soon as the pain receded a little and he lowered his arms.

*No, just pain. Voldemort was very angry with someone.*

*That'sss not good.*

*Actually, it might not be all that bad,* Harry replied as he got to his feet and dusted his clothes off. *Malfoy was heading for a Death Eater meeting and I got the impression that he was running a little late. It might well have been him who got punished for being tardy.*

*In that cassse it isssn't ssso bad after all,* Zera agreed.

*Hmm,* Harry said as he frowned.

More than once he had pondered why a wizard as powerful, both through his own abilities and his social and political position, as Lucius Malfoy who also firmly believed in the superiority of purebloods would follow Voldemort. Yes, the Dark Lord sought the eradication of Muggleborns and looked down upon Muggles as inferior, and he was a master of the Dark Arts, but he himself was a halfblood and forced his Death Eaters to kneel before him and bear a mark that signified servitude. It just didn't make sense to Harry that Lucius Malfoy would willingly bow before someone with a Muggle father, much less be their servant. He didn't see the Malfoy pride as allowing for such a submission. Unless, of course, there was something else going on that he didn't know about?

Harry shook his head and pushed the thoughts aside. Lucius was a complex puzzle, an enigma cloaked in contradictions. There was no way that he'd figure the man out at the present. No, now was the time to see if he couldn't figure out Severus Snape. If he couldn't figure out his father.

*Can I be around your neck now?* Zera inquired. *It would give me a better view.*

*Sure,* Harry responded and brought his right arm up and allowed her to wrap herself around his neck.

*Isss thisss fine or isss it too tight?*

*That's fine,* Harry said as he stepped up to the vault door and stopped.

This was it, the moment he had both longed for and dreaded since he had received his mother's letter with its shocking revelations. What lay behind the locked steel door before him would allow him to see just what kind of man his potions professor had been in the past. It would reveal to him the man his mother had fallen in love with and married. It would expose the wizard who had sired him. He desperately wished that it would be someone who was very different from the snarky Potions Master he had come to know over the course of his four years at Hogwarts as he didn't know what he'd do if he wasn't. He needed the man to be radically different from the current Snape; to be likable.

The mere thought of what it would be like if he wasn't...

It was too awful to bear.

*It'll be fine,* Zera reassured him soothingly.

*How can you be sure of that?* Harry demanded nervously.

*I jussst do. Inssstinct I believe you call it.*

*But--*

*Ssstanding here worrying about it ssshan't help and it certainly ssshan't alter anything,* Zera interrupted.

*Why do you always have to be so logical?*

*Becaussse you aren't.*

*Hey!* Harry exclaimed even as he smiled faintly. Trust the snake to calm him down. It was amazing how well she knew him after so short a time.

*It'sss true.*

*Hrmph,* Harry replied but silently steeled himself and brought his key up. *Well, here goes.*

The emerald eyed wizard inserted the key into the lock and turned it. As had happened the first time Griphook opened his vault when Hagrid had brought him to Gringotts, a puff of green smoke billowed out as the door opened. When he finally managed to see past the mist to the vault beyond, Harry gasped.