Realizations

---

Chapter 10 - Replies

---

Saturday, July 15, 1995

Harry stared at the beautiful scarlet and gold phoenix for a few seconds, then gripped the doorframe for support and closed his eyes in hopeless resignation. It was over. All over. Finished. Done. Kaput. If Fawkes was here, Dumbledore surely knew where he was. It had been good while it lasted, but this seemed to be the end of his little charade.

An eerily beautiful note of phoenix song made him look up. Fawkes was studying him curiously, looking annoyed, and strangely hurt at the same time. When the firebird saw he had the boy's attention, he waved his wing impatiently, and lifted his fettered talon. Oh. Right. Harry thought belatedly. I suppose I should untie that box.

Giving the bird an apologetic half smile, the young wizard approached the bed on slightly unsteady legs, and gratefully sat down on it. "Hang on there, Fawkes. Won't be a minute," he said, shaky fingers fumbling with the cord.

Fawkes was now eyeing him with something akin to concern. Noticing, Harry gave himself a mental shake. The phoenix had saved his life at the end of second year when he'd been bitten by a Basilisk, and he certainly deserved to be treated cordially. Pull yourself together, Potter, he scolded himself. Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you! With effort, he swallowed, in spite of his impossibly dry throat, and managed to address his guest in a mostly normal tone. "Sorry Fawkes," he apologized sincerely, finally getting the box untied. "You just surprised me, that's all." He gently stroked the beautiful red and gold plumage. "It's always wonderful to see you," he added, afraid he might have given the magical creature the wrong impression.

Fawkes trilled another gentle, soothing note, and spread his magnificent wings wide. Harry suddenly felt much better, like a soft, comforting blanket had been wrapped around his shoulders. Without thinking, he directly met Fawkes' wise gaze, and fell into it as the power of the phoenix bored into him. It felt similar to what he, Harry, had done instinctively many times when trying to get the measure of someone, but Fawkes was many times stronger, and this time, Harry was being assessed, not the other way around.

Fawkes had always seemed rather fond of Harry, probably because of his unwavering loyalty for Professor Dumbledore. He'd given Harry a discreet once-over, the first time they'd met, but he'd never subjected him to the full weight of his probing stare before. The wizard shuddered slightly, as the phoenix slipped past all his defenses to the essential Harry Potter, and was privy to everything from his headiest joys and triumphs to his deepest fears and sorrows. When it was over, the boy felt laid open, utterly bare, but somehow not violated.

Harry blinked slowly when he was released, and became aware that he and Fawkes were being observed very closely by all the animals in his room. Even hyper little Pigwidgeon was absolutely still, perched on the headboard beside Hedwig and the Hogwarts owl who had delivered Tom's letter. Hesitantly, he met the firebird's gaze again, and saw fondness, trust, and respect. "What...?" he tried to ask, but Fawkes interrupted him with a reassuring chirp, and flipped his wing towards the box he had delivered. Harry nodded, still a bit shaken, and opened the package. Inside he found a parchment envelope addressed to him in the headmaster's loopy handwriting. Harry raised a confused eyebrow, and wondered why Dumbledore had bothered to package a letter. Shrugging, he plucked the letter out of the box, and nearly fell off the bed in surprise when the package suddenly filled with an assortment of items. Okaaaay... Harry thought dazedly, as he tore open the envelope, and unfolded a rather long letter.

July 9, 1995

Dear Harry,

I imagine you have a great many questions just now. I will try my best to anticipate and answer them. If I miss any, please feel free to ask.

I suppose the first question, is why I am sending this package with Fawkes, and not one of the school owls. The answer is, I could think of no better way of assuring you that this package is indeed from me, and not a clever forgery. Fawkes will have undoubtedly subjected you to his own unique scrutiny by now. I apologize for the necessity of this, but since you are reading this letter, and perceive more than one item in the parcel I sent, he has found you worthy of our trust. If you had not passed his test, you would be reading a slightly different letter, and wondering no doubt, why I used such a large box to send one small pendant.

What you have before you, are some standard field items that are given to members of the Order of the Phoenix when they are on assignment. The Order is a very old organization that was founded about the time Hogwarts was. It's purpose is to stand firm against dark witches and wizards, as they have a nasty habit of popping up from time to time.

Harry grinned in spite of himself. Professor Dumbledore made evil witches and wizards sound like they were nothing more than a troublesome patch of weeds in the garden.

You have not been conscripted into service, nor will you be required to go on missions. You have been entrusted with these items in an attempt to ensure your own safety, and to maximize the efficiency of your communication, but I'll get to that in a moment. Please do not discuss the box's contents or their magical properties with anyone. Some of them are not publicly available, and give us a huge advantage over our adversaries. If you will kindly empty the parcel and follow along, I will explain each to you in turn.

Shrugging agreeably, Harry did as he was asked, and soon had the box's contents lined neatly on the bed. He studied them curiously for a few seconds, then picked up his letter again.

You should find a phoenix pendant, some sheets of parchment, and some quills. Please take the pendant and put it on immediately. It is a standard portkey issued to all field operatives. When activated, it will transport you directly to the Hogwarts hospital wing. I do not anticipate the need for its use, but it will provide an escape for you, should you require it. You are probably aware that there are different types of portkeys...some activate instantly when touched, others activate at a predetermined time, and still others must be activated with a key word or phrase. The phoenix pendant is one of the last type. To use it, clasp the charm tightly in either hand, and say "Sanctuary." Rest assured that the pendant can be casually handled without fear of activation.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, and took a deep breath. The very thought of portkeys still made him slightly queasy. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to look at one again without memories of the graveyard closing in on him. Actually, it was rather good of Dumbledore to reassure him without stating the issue point blank. Realistically, Harry knew he needed to try and get over his irrational fear of portkeys. As phobias went he couldn't think of many that would be more inconvenient, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He didn't want to touch it, despite his headmaster's assurances.

Seeming to understand, Fawkes gracefully leaned forward, grasped the chain in his beak, and presented it to the boy, making reassuring noises as he did so. Mollified somewhat, Harry gingerly accepted the chain and pendant, studying it a second before slipping it over his head. As a whole, the necklace was rather unisex in design, with an exquisitely wrought cloisonne phoenix pendant suspended on a plain gold chain. The charm was richly detailed, looking rather like Fawkes himself, and depicted a firebird in flight. Harry ran an admiring finger over it before tucking it safely under his shirt, and retrieving the letter again.

Before I continue, I wanted to take a moment to thank you for sharing your information regarding Voldemort. I had been told by another source that a memory potion was being brewed, but we had not been able to determine who the intended recipient was. Thanks to your furnishing that detail, my source was not forced to ask questions that might cast suspicion on himself.

This brings us to the parchment and quills included in your parcel. They are charmed to allow almost instantaneous communication. You simply write what you want to say on one of the pieces of parchment provided to you. The message will appear to soak into the paper, much like the effect you described with Tom Riddle's diary in your second year, and will be transferred to a corresponding piece of parchment in my office. This is the preferred method of communication for agents in the field, because it is faster than owls, and virtually untraceable. Please use this to pass on information regarding Voldemort, no matter how simple or unimportant it might seem. And Harry, if your scar is bothering you, please say something. Madam Pomphrey and Professor Snape have many remedies at their disposal, and are happy to help. I am grateful for any information you can give me regarding Voldemort, but I do not want you sacrificing your health or suffering needlessly.

Back to the parchment, when you send your message, the charm on the paper will dissipate. If necessary, you may send some of your parchment back to Hogwarts to be re-enchanted. If not, consider your supply of parchment for the coming school year bought. Now, if you will kindly look at one of the pieces of parchment, you will notice some symbols across the top.

Harry looked, and saw a phoenix, a paw print, a crescent moon, and a serpent arranged in a neat row across the top of each sheet.

I have taken the liberty of selecting some people you may wish or need to contact directly. Touch your quill to one or more of the totems when you finish writing to select your recipient(s). The symbols represent myself, Sirius, Remus, and Professor Snape. You have my permission to write your godfather and Remus weekly using this parchment. I think it may help allay their fears for your safety. The parchment is bi-directional, so we may use it to contact you as well, but we will refrain from doing so as much as possible. Ordinarily, the parchment emits an attention-getting signal when an incoming message is received. I have removed this feature from your parchment because I know your muggle relatives are uncomfortable with the idea of magic. Please make sure to check your parchment for messages occasionally.

Harry raised an eyebrow, then a giddy smile crept onto his features. Professor Dumbledore still thought he was with the Dursleys! He wasn't found out after all!

Lastly, I wish to discuss owls with you. The charmed parchment will decrease the owl traffic at your residence considerably, but your owl is highly visible and recognizable. I have contacted Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, and asked him if he would mind occasionally making the one of the Cauldron's owls available to you during slow times. It should be much more efficient than trying to do the same thing with school owls since the Leaky Cauldron is much closer to your summer home than Hogwarts is. You should know within the next few days if he agrees. By the way, I must say I was surprised to hear about your summer employment. I tried to make sure your relatives understood the seriousness of your situation when I wrote them before the end of term. However, if you say it's helping you put recent events out of your mind, perhaps it's for the best. In any event, you have your portkey now--do not hesitate to use it. Please look after yourself, and enjoy the rest of your summer.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

P.S. I nearly forgot! I forwarded your letter to Sirius and Remus. You should be hearing from them soon. Also, would you please thank Hedwig for graciously waiting while I assembled your package and guiding Fawkes to you? He is a magnificent creature, but I'm afraid he lacks the magical tracking ability of messenger owls. He should be able to get back to Hogwarts on his own, however. --A.D.

"Yessssss!" Harry leapt off the bed, and pumped a fist in victory. Everything was still okay. Well, except for Tom's letter. The boy stilled, and bit his lip nervously, wondering exactly what Tom's letter said, then shrugged. He'd find out soon enough. Remembering his manners, he turned back to the now rather amused-looking phoenix, and said, "Thanks, Fawkes. I really appreciate you coming all the way down here. Oh!" Harry suddenly remembered he hadn't offered any of the birds so much as a sip of water. He took care of that immediately, setting Hedwig's feeding dishes on the floor so that the flock could have better access. That done, he eagerly flipped through the rest of his letters, looking for....yes! There was one from Sirius.

July 9, 1995

Dear Harry:

Padfoot is asleep at the moment, so I'm starting this letter. We've been taking turns doing a very boring job, and my shift just started a couple of hours ago. Rest assured he'll add his part when he gets up.

First things first. If you can call this daft git by his given name, then surely you can call me Remus, or Moony if you prefer. I must apologize for not keeping in better touch this past year. I really have no good excuse. Albus and Sirius have done such a good job keeping me up to date with your news, I guess didn't realize I hadn't actually been in contact with you directly until your letter arrived today. I am flattered and properly humbled that you included me, and promise to do better in the future.

Sirius is well, and I'm about as good as can be expected with the full moon coming up on the 12th. Don't worry about your godfather, though. Albus has generously continued to supply me with the Wolfsbane Potion, and I have been dutifully taking it, but I really wish something could be done to improve the taste. Of course, now that I think on it, I don't believe I've run across many pleasant-tasting potions. Especially medicinal ones. How about you?

Speaking of you, how are you holding up? Sirius was very upset when he arrived at my home a few weeks ago, and with good reason, it seems. I wish there was something I could say or do to make things easier for you, although you seem to be managing fairly well. Keeping busy is indeed a good way to keep your mind off your troubles, just be careful when you're away from your uncle's house, and be sure you aren't internalizing all your worries. Your mum used to do that, you know. Drove us all mad. She was always very hesitant about sharing her worries and fears, and was more likely to look after others than herself...much like a certain young man of my acquaintance. You have a coping mechanism, and inner strength that is nothing short of remarkable, Harry, but don't be afraid to reach out to your friends. It's okay to let someone else be the strong one every now and then.

Dear me. I do believe that is the most serious paragraph I've ever written. Must be these times we're living in. You'd never guess I was one of the famous Marauders of Hogwarts. I'll try to do better in my next letter. In the meantime, take care of yourself, and don't work too hard!

Remus Lupin

Harry blinked, a little shocked at how well the werewolf perceived him, and touched by the genuine fondness in the letter. He also appreciated the little clue Professor--no, Remus, had given him about his mother. Perhaps when they finished their current business, he could arrange a visit with Sirius and Remus. In the past, there had always been some pressing matter to attend to when he'd seen his godfather, and Remus had been his teacher, and not exactly accessible. It might be nice to have a chance to listen to their stories and just relax for once. With that in mind, Harry turned his attention to the second page of the letter.

Dear Harry:

Well, first of all, I want to thank my dear friend Moony for getting all of the heavy stuff out of the way up front. Perhaps I'll let him start all my letters. Let me simply echo his sentiments, and state that I will always try to be there for you if you need me, so we can move on to other topics.

Are those muggle relatives of yours treating you all right? Moony and I have catching a certain rat on our list of things to do, but unfortunately, it isn't our top priority at the moment. I'm hoping that it will be soon.

I see you're keeping busy! A summer job, eh? Pretty neat trick. How many additional wards and protective spells did Albus have installed? I was under the impression that you were going to be kept close to home this summer, but I'm glad you're able to get out a bit. You always struck me as the "take action" type, even when you were just a little thing. I'm also very impressed that you've already started doing your summer assignments. James and I were never that punctual. Lily was, though. Remus, too. They would start immediately, and get their work done straightaway, but Prongs and I liked to take it easy, and finish up a little at a time over the course of the summer.

Oh, speaking of assignments, take a friendly word to the wise: You might want to start looking over your old material now since you have your OWLS coming up this year. I can tell you from personal experience that those are a bit of a challenge just because of the sheer volume of material covered. You definitely don't want to get stuck cramming for those at the last possible minute. It isn't a pretty sight, believe me...and NEWTS are even worse. "Nastily Exhausting Wizard Tests" is a very apt description, though your dad's version "Never Ever Wait To Start", (studying) is good as well. James always did have a way with words.

Well, I want to get this on its way, so I'll close here. Take good care of yourself, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

Sirius

Harry smiled fondly as he folded Remus and Sirius' letter, then slid it back in the envelope, and reached for another.

July 7, 1995

Dear Harry,

Good to hear from you, mate. Hope the muggles are treating you right.

My holiday has actually been extraordinarily weird. For one thing we hardly ever see Fred and George. They've been holed up in their room most of the summer--Ginny and I can't even dig them out to play Quidditch or Exploding Snap. The first couple of days of the holiday they went to Diagon Alley, and Ottery St. Catchpole for "stuff," but they won't say what they bought, or what they're working on, or even where they got the money to go shopping in the first place. Do you reckon Ludo Bagman finally found his heart and made good on their World Cup wager? Or at least refunded their savings? Mum's been in a right snit about it, but I think she was more worried about them being out alone. Dad has been pretty cool about the whole thing, really. He reckons its their way of dealing with the stress of You-Know-Who being back, and is willing to let them be as long as no one gets hurt, and the house doesn't fall down from all the explosions.

Speaking of the house, Mum and Dad have been working in the evenings trying to get the Burrow "safe" so you can come visit. Bill, Charlie, and Percy, have been helping as much as they can, and Professor Dumbledore has even come a few times to see what he can do to hurry things along. Evidently laying protective spells, and constructing wards is a tricky business. Not only are the spells difficult, but they have to be cast in the proper order for maximum effect. They've had to take everything down and start over at least twice, but I think they have the hang of it now. Dad said Professor Dumbledore asked Minister Fudge if he would allow a team of Aurors to help, but he refused, the prat.

I suppose they could have been finished by now if they were just warding the house like they talked about at first. Mum and Dad decided to do a proper job of it though, so they're enclosing the yard, pond, dad's shed, and paddock as well. The good news is, once it's done, it's done, and the Burrow will be almost as well protected as your uncle's house with regards to magical attack, forever. The bad news is, its just taking a little longer than expected.

So you have a summer job, do you? Doing what? And bloody hell, Harry! I understand you may be feeling a little mental what with recent events and all, but did you absolutely have to tell Hermione that you'd started your summer homework? You've got that girl in a right state because she thinks you might finish up before she does! And if that wasn't bad enough, she wants me to start on my assignments, and start reviewing for my OWLS now, too! You've created a proper monster, you have, but I suppose I can forgive you just this once.

Well, Mum wants me to help de-gnome the garden, and that was all my news anyway. Take care and write soon!

Ron

Harry laid Ron's letter aside, wearing a troubled frown. He'd never intended to be so much trouble, and yet... He reached into his jeans pocket and retrieved a small muggle notebook. Since he couldn't predict when would dream of Voldemort, or be able to "listen in" the 3 X 5 inch (or 7.5 X 12.5 cm if you prefer) spiral notepad and ball-point pen he'd purchased a few days ago had become his constant companions. They resided in his shirt or pants pockets by day, and laid on his bedside table at night.

He flipped rapidly through his entries until he found what he wanted--the entry he'd made just last night:

July 12 - Death Eater Mtg

SS promised V his memory potion by week's end. SS is to report to V when potion is done via portkey. SS was punished via Cruciatus Curse for delays.

Planning an attack on Privet Dr.? Me?

LM reported that Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory are trying to gather support for Dumbledore in the Ministry.

V plans to use the Ministry's inaction to his advantage--planning a surprise attack. No activity (muggleborn attacks?) until then. V doesn't want to raise suspicions in the Wizard Community.

Harry had seen the meeting in a dream, or vision, or whatever they were. The curious feeling of traveling to Voldemort's whereabouts, and invisibly watching the dark wizard's actions that he had initially experienced in Professor Trelawney's classroom was back. Voldemort's punishment of Snape had been meant as a warning, and he had not put his full might behind the curse. Harry had been dimly aware of his scar burning sympathetically as Snape clenched his teeth to avoid crying out, but the discomfort had not been severe enough to awaken him.

The major issues with his scar's painful reactions, and his new eavesdropping abilities seemed to be proximity and Voldemort's mood. Harry could always tell when the other wizard was nearby, because his scar reacted painfully. Now that distance was a factor, Harry noticed he could hear Voldemort the clearest when the other wizard was agitated, or angry. When he had visions, the intensity with which Voldemort cast his curses determined how badly his scar hurt. It was almost as if their connection acted like an invisible wire, with Voldemort transmitting, and Harry receiving. The level of Voldemort's pique determined how much energy was pumped through their connection. It didn't appear to be bi-directional, and Harry had mixed feelings about that. If the connection worked the way he suspected, and strong emotions transmitted the clearest, Voldemort would have been drawn to him like a magnet his first or second day back from Hogwarts. On the other hand, it might be childishly gratifying to blaze his own anger and frustration over the link, and let Voldemort deal with the headache for a change.

He glanced at Ron's letter again, reminded of something. Hadn't the headmaster mentioned preparations? Was he referring to the wards then? Harry bit his lower lip. Dumbledore said he had a source, and that had to be Snape. Surely Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory had been warned that they'd been mentioned by name at a Death Eater Meeting, and were therefore in danger of attack. Arthur and Molly Weasley must be doing such a thorough job to protect their home and family, then. Surely they wouldn't enclose their entire property just for him!

Harry snickered a little when he re-read Ron's complaints about homework and OWL preparations. Sorry, mate, but Sirius says it's a good idea too, he thought with a shrug. And really, Harry was at a distinct disadvantage in some ways. Professor Dumbledore had canceled end of term exams as a school treat his second year, when the Chamber of Secrets mess had been sorted out, and because Harry had been a TriWizard Champion this past year, he had been excused from exams again. It had seemed like a wonderful idea at the time, but now he realized he had no practical measure of how much he had learned two of the four years he'd been at Hogwarts. And face it, Potter, you were in another world entirely a good deal of last year, worrying about that stupid tournament. Who knows for certain how much you retained. Perhaps he could get with Hermione and borrow her exams and study notes while they still had access to muggle copying centers.

The bit about Fred and George being on Diagon Alley was unsettling as well. From the sound of it, they'd come while he'd been doing his stint on the night shift. He'd have to keep an eye out for them--and anyone else he bloody knew. Harry twisted his mouth to one side, while he considered this. His disguise was pretty good, but Harry wasn't sure if it was that good. Oh, well. He'd find out soon enough. In a couple of weeks Hogwarts letters would be sent out, and he was sure to run into all sorts of familiar faces.

Fawkes and the Hogwarts owl distracted him then, when they flew around the room once, then out the open window, chattering cheerily at him as they did so. Harry waved at the departing birds, and called his thanks, then returned his attention to his remaining two letters, while Hedwig and Pig perched on the headboard, and settled in for a nap.

The next letter was from Hermione, and by all appearances, he had fallen out of her good graces.

July 13, 1995

Harry James Potter!

Of all the stupid, thoughtless, juvenile behavior! I can't believe you spent the entire day in London, with my mother yet, and couldn't spare two minutes to ring me up to say hello! You could have easily reached me on Dad's mobile phone! Best friend indeed!

And while we're on the subject, what did you tell my mother about Hogwarts? She's been absolutely insufferable, and asking questions like mad! When I asked her where she heard all this, she just smiled, and told me you two had a nice little chat over lunch. If this is the kind of behavior I can expect, I must insist on being present for any future lunch dates you two have planned!

She did mention you bought some nice new clothes, for your job, but she's not telling everything she knows. I can tell. What are you up to, Harry? All she'll say is you have a surprise for me, you think you'll be able to visit again, and that you have very nice teeth.

Oh, well. I guess if the Dursleys are finally getting you some decent clothes, this job situation is for the best. What are you doing anyway? How are you liking it? Will you still be able to visit Ron's family?

Speaking of Ron, I just finished a letter to him. I'm glad you finally seem to be taking your studies seriously, Harry, but I think we (you, Ron, and me) need to start reviewing for our OWLS immediately. If you'll just think it over a minute, I'm sure you'll agree. I've gathered together all my homework papers, texts, and exams going all the way back to first year, and I'm shocked at how much material we've covered. Reviewing all this adequately is going to be a real challenge, especially if we want to have any free time this year. Plus, the tests also include the fifth year materials we cover to that point--stuff we don't even have access to yet! Oh, and just so you know, I've finished my Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Arithmancy assignments.

I suppose that's everything that's been happening here. Mum and Dad and I haven't made any firm plans about going on holiday. To tell the truth, I've rather enjoyed having some down time. Hedwig seems anxious to be on her way, so I'll close for now. Look after yourself, and owl or ring me up soon!

Hermione

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he got to the bottom of the letter. By the way it had started, he'd reckoned he'd have better luck getting Malfoy to study with him than Hermione, but the longer she wrote, the more she seemed to calm down.

Actually, Harry had considered calling Hermione--Dr. Granger had even offered to give him the number, but she'd also said this was Hermione's once a year, all day, father-daughter outing, and Harry had been hesitant to intrude. And he hadn't thought he'd told her mum anything that horrible. Sighing unhappily, he laid Hermione's letter with the others he needed to answer, and picked up the last envelope.

The writing on the thick, creamy parchment was completely unfamiliar--an old fashioned calligraphy, written in a strange ink that was metallic and iridescent at the same time. Curious, Harry flipped the envelope over, eyes brightening with recognition when he saw the wax seal with a large "G" stamped on it. This must be the information he'd requested from Gringotts.

The dark-haired teen shook his head at the memory. Visiting Gringotts had been a real adventure. After he'd finished talking to Dr. Granger he'd told Tom where he was going, and scurried off down Diagon Alley. As it was still quite early, the street was mostly deserted, and it wasn't quite time for the bank to open. Harry had leaned against the white stone building beside the burnished bronze door, trying to look nonchalant while he waited. In reality his brain was buzzing with questions as he tried to work out what he thought things would cost, and how much he should withdraw. He didn't realistically know how much things like glasses and shoes, and muggle clothing cost. He'd been too young to notice how much Aunt Petunia had paid for his current pair of glasses, although he did remember how she'd carried on about the expenditure, and threatened him with dire consequences if he failed to properly care for them.

Harry had rolled his eyes at the irony. Her hissed threats and warnings were a bit rich, considering most if not all his glasses mishaps were caused or orchestrated by her dear "Dinky Duddydums." He'd taken the time to mull the matter over carefully, though, and decided to withdraw 500 galleons. Surely that would be enough. He'd gotten the shock of his life, when Griphook, the goblin who was waiting on him, did some quick computations.

"You say you want to withdraw 500 galleons, and you want that converted to pounds?" the teller had asked.

"Yes, please."

"Very well. You'll be wanting one of these, then," Griphook said, placing an object on the counter, that looked for all the world like one of the folders Harry had used in muggle school. The difference was, this one was sized to hold pounds sterling. Seeing Harry's blank stare he sneered, "It's a money minder. It really isn't safe to be carrying around such a large sum. That's charmed to make it look like a more reasonable amount."

"Oh," was all Harry could think of to say, realizing for the first time that this was not to be a one-to-one transaction. How much money did I just request, anyway? he wondered, then watched in alarm as Griphook rapidly counted out 2500 pounds.

"Exchange rate's good for you today," the goblin commented as he worked. "Five to one--not bad at all. The exchange fee is waived of course, because of your account status," he continued, counting the money again, then stuffing it in the money minder. "Will there be anything else, Mr. Potter?"

Not wanting to look like a complete idiot, Harry had calmly accepted the little folder, reasoning that he could always re-deposit what he didn't use later. Then, with aplomb that would have made Dumbledore proud, he had requested information on the balance and status of his account.

"You have not been receiving statements?" Griphook asked, looking shocked. At Harry's negative response, he excused himself, then returned a few minutes later carrying a large ledger.

Harry watched while the goblin flipped rapidly through the book, then ran one yellow fingernail down a column of vault numbers. "Ah. I see. Before their deaths, your parents mandated that should you placed under your muggle relatives' guardianship, all information pertaining to this account was to be held here at Gringotts until you reached the age of majority, and Albus Dumbledore was entrusted with your key until you began studying at Hogwarts." He frowned up at Harry. "It appears your parents thought it wise to hide this account."

Stunned, Harry had merely nodded. He'd chosen to do the same thing.

"Well then," Griphook snapped the ledger shut and became brisk and businesslike again. "Since you have very little activity in your account, Mr. Potter, it is subjected to quarterly instead of monthly audits. All activity is recorded and tracked, and I can give you the last tally, but I do not have your current balance at my fingertips. I can find out, but it will take time. Would you care to come back, or shall I owl you?"

"An owl will be fine, thank you," Harry had replied, becoming uncomfortably aware of the increasing number of people about, and itching to return to the Leaky Cauldron before he was spotted.

"Very well Mr. Potter, you may expect an owl in about five business days."

Harry broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out a blank piece of Gringotts letterhead stationary, with a goblin watermark. A life-size silhouette of a typical vault key was centered at the top of the page, and printed above the bank's name and address. The green-eyed boy raised an eyebrow in confusion. Weren't they supposed to be sending his account information? He turned parchment over, and glanced at the back which was blank as well, then turned it back over and sucked in a startled breath. The watermark had moved, and was looking directly at him. "Key, please," it said.

Harry blinked and stared for a couple of seconds before blurting, "What?"

"This letter contains privileged information. Your identity must be verified." the little picture explained tersely before repeating, "Key please."

"Erm...yeah. Right. Just a moment," Harry laid the letter down on the bed, and fetched his vault key from his trunk. He retrieved the parchment, and held his key in front of the watermark. "Here it is."

"Oh, yes. Griphook did say you were new at this." The goblin on the paper pointed up at the letterhead. "Lay your key on the silhouette."

Harry obeyed, and watched torn between fascination and horror as his key was drawn into the letter. The little watermark was holding the key now, and glancing between it and a piece of parchment it had retrieved from somewhere. "Yes, yes," he muttered distractedly. "Everything seems to be in order." He tossed the key up and to Harry's immense relief, it re-appeared where he had put it. "Good day, Mr. Potter," the little goblin said with a polite incline of his head, before vanishing from sight. In his place, the parchment started to fill with rows and columns of figures.

Harry scanned the numbers as they filled in, raising his eyebrows, and letting out a low whistle of surprise. Whoa! he thought, unable to find the words to form a more articulate response. There was more in his vault than he thought. His parents had deposited a fair amount when they had started the account, and set up an agreement with the bank so that it earned an aggressive rate of return. There were stipulations, of course. For example, the money had to remain untouched, and completely at the bank's disposal for a minimum of 10 years. Afterwards, only a fixed number of withdrawals per year would be allowed. Deposits would be allowed at any time, of course. The account had grown impressively over the past decade, fed by the interest it earned until he had started Hogwarts. No wonder the currency he took out for school on his annual trips to Diagon Alley never seemed to matter. He earned that and more in interest every year.

Of course, the account as it existed currently wasn't practical for everyday life. It was earning a lot of interest, yes, but the strict rules on the number and amount of withdrawals he was allowed in a year would be horribly inconvenient once he graduated. Harry reckoned he would eventually need to set up the equivalent of a muggle checking account when he had an actual residence, and regular day-to-day expenses, but that could wait for now. Still slightly stunned, he carefully re-folded his account statement, and put it, and his Gringotts key back in his trunk.

That done, Harry sat on the floor by his trunk, and leaned against it, still trying to assimilate all the information he had just read. A glance at his clock told him he still had a while before he was expected anywhere. He was just beginning to wonder what to do with himself, and was thinking about nipping down for a spot of lunch, when his attention was caught by the box he'd brought with him from Mrs. Figg's house. It been sitting on the floor beside his dresser. Now it slid over to him, and bumped him on the hip with a palpable air of, Well, is it my turn? Are you finally going to pay attention to me?

Harry wondered for a minute if he had truly lost it, then decided the box must be charmed somehow. Well, okay, he already knew that. The thing practically rippled with magic when touched, it had emerged looking brand new even after being drenched by rain and puddle water, and it had spontaneously hidden the label that so obviously declared his identity when Stan Shunpike had loaded and unloaded his things on the Knight Bus. "Okay," he told it finally. "Sorry. I was just waiting to hear back from Mrs. Figg."

The box did a happy little spin, then untied and untaped itself, flinging its flaps open wide. Harry chuckled a little, then peered in.

The box contained a hodgepodge of items. It appeared to mostly be full of papers, but there were other things inside as well. Reaching a hand in, Harry drew out some official looking papers--his muggle school records, his medical records, his birth certificate... Yep, he really was Harry James Potter. The teen had been asked, and often wondered himself if "Harry" was short for anything. Evidently not.

Laying these aside he slipped his hand in deeper, and pulled out a slightly charred parchment envelope addressed to Mr. H. Potter, Cupboard under the Stairs?? Harry shook his head in disbelief. His first Hogwarts letter! But how? Uncle Vernon had burned it! He had kept the letter Hagrid had finally hand-delivered to him, addressed to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea, but he'd always regretted the loss of that first letter. It was the first indication he'd ever had that someone other than his aunt and uncle knew he existed--and now here it was! A little toasted, maybe, but mostly intact. He carefully removed the letter and looked over it, before gently laying it aside with his other legal papers.

He reached into the box again, even deeper this time, and pulled out a handful of assignments he'd done at his old muggle school. I don't understand! Harry thought in stunned disbelief. Aunt Petunia threw all my things away! She only kept Dudley's papers! How in the world did Mrs. Figg get them? Flipping through the stack, he grinned at the subject matter, the little notes his teachers had written, and his own childish handwriting and artwork. One drawing in particular caught his attention. He had drawn a motorcycle and rider silhouetted against the moon. "Charming! Great imagination!" his teacher had noted, writing carefully near the top of the paper. Harry looked critically at the drawing. It wasn't bad, really, but its existence defied logic. His aunt and uncle always treated his schoolwork with indifference, sparing it one short look before tossing it in the bin, but because this drawing was "imaginative" they had ripped it to pieces before throwing it out. How then, was it in the box from Mrs. Figg's house, looking as though it had never been torn?

Harry shook his head in amazement, and decided not to worry about the "how" just yet. For the next half hour or so, he explored the wonders hidden in the seemingly bottomless box. One of the more poignant items he unearthed was a book of fairy tales that he had won one day at school. Dudley had been home with the flu, so he'd actually had the nerve to do his best at the little trivia quiz his teacher was hosting. The book had been first prize. He had sneaked it into the house, and managed to keep it hidden in his cupboard for quite a while, but Petunia had run across it one day, and flown into a rage. She had yelled almost hysterically about how such rubbish wasn't allowed in her house, and rapped him smartly with the book, before tearing a handful of pages out of it, and throwing it into the kitchen bin.

Grinning happily, Harry had been ready to flop on the bed and take in a tale or two, when his little clock chimed. Time to Go, it read. "Oh, hang it," the wizard muttered in irritation, "I forgot to get lunch!" He placed the book beside the clock and shrugged. At least I have a plan for later, he thought, hurrying down the stairs. Perhaps he had time to make a quick sandwich, or at least grab a piece of fruit before heading over to Madam Malkin's.

---

A full dozen cats looked up disinterestedly when the fireplace at Magnolia Crescent blazed, and their mistress came tumbling out. "Finally," Arabella grumbled, brushing herself off, and dropping her bags on the floor. She tromped to her very unlived in kitchen, and scowled into her nearly empty refrigerator. Eurgh. Definitely nothing edible there. Arabella cast a banishing charm and a cleaning charm in rapid succession. Well, there was her reason to go fetch Harry. Petunia had allowed her to "borrow" the boy to help her carry groceries home from the shops before, and she was literally out of everything.

Brightening, she shed her robes, revealing the muggle clothes she wore underneath, snatched up a few shopping bags, and hurried out the door. As she walked two streets over to Privet Drive, she rehearsed what she would say: "Petunia, dear, how lovely to see you! Is Harry available to help me do a little job by any chance?"

As she neared #4, she noticed there were more than the usual number of cars about. Frowning, Arabella walked a little more quickly, then smiled in relief when she spotted a dark-haired figure in the yard. He seemed okay...taller than when she had last seen him, but that was to be expected. She was about to call him over to her, but a group of people exiting the house made her stop, and listen instead.

"As you can see, this is a very comfortably sized house," a smartly dressed woman with a clipboard was saying to an unfamiliar couple. "Easy access to shops, quiet neighborhood, good schools..." she listed, pointing out the benefits of living on Privet Drive while the couple listened politely. Noticing his parents had exited the house, the boy ran over to them.

Mrs. Figg watched as the realtor and her perspective clients spoke a few minutes more. When the family climbed into their car and drove away, she cautiously approached the other woman. "Excuse me, do you happen to know what became of the family who used to live here?"

The realtor turned with a surprised smile, "Friends of yours?"

Arabella shrugged. "They have me babysit for them from time to time," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was just popping 'round to see if one of their boys could help me with an errand."

"One of their boys? I thought they just had one," the other woman frowned as she marked something on her clipboard, then faced Arabella. "The father was transferred with his job, that's all I know. They're using another agent to find their home on the other end."

Arabella nodded. She chatted with the agent for a few more minutes, then the woman got into her car and drove away. The witch waited until her companion had driven a few blocks, then hurried to the edge of the anti-apparation wards, checked for possible witnesses, and apparated for her house. Something really weird was going on here...

---