Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Not at all, despite my wishes. So, I hope you enjoy this story…despite the fact that it has a bit of a slow beginning. Loves, HK
Harry Potter sighed as he got off the train in London. It had only been a few days since he and his godfather, Sirius Black, had nearly been killed by over one-hundred dementors. And now he was being sent back to his relatives where he would be forced to slave away for them on hardly any food or rest. He frowned to himself as he thought that over; Dumbledore was always so adamant that he return to the Dursleys, but he never told him why. Only that it was the safest place for him, which was a joke. It was a miracle that his 'loving family' hadn't killed him themselves.
And then there was the Ministry of Magic. An organization corrupt enough to send an innocent man to prison and then demand his death without a trial was an organization that Harry just couldn't put his trust in. He shook his head, grabbing his trunk and Hedwig's cage (he'd let her out to fly back home) and stashing them in his pocket, as he'd had the twins shrink them for him before the train had left Hogsmeade. He then headed for his obviously upset uncle.
As he continued to think about his experiences in the wizarding world, Harry found himself growing more and more upset. Why did he have to go back to the Dursleys? Surely there was somewhere better to go. He could always go to the Weasleys, he supposed, but chances were Dumbledore would just make him go back to his relatives anyway.
But if Dumbledore didn't know where he was…
A plan was unfolding in his mind, and Harry smiled slightly before glancing at his uncle. He had to convince him to drop him off at the Leaky Cauldron, but how was he going to do that? Actually…it would probably be a very simple thing to do.
"That was too easy," Harry murmured to himself as he slipped through The Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Ally. A few well placed threats and some promises of never coming back and Harry was free of his relatives. He glanced around at the shops, shrugged to himself, and made his way to the bank.
It took a moment for the goblins to notice him, but he remained patient, willing himself not to behave like all the other wizards and witches in the world. Goblins were people too, even if they looked and acted different. Why was that so hard to understand? So, when he finally had their attention, he politely asked if he could see someone about his assets. And they took him to Ragnok, leader of the bank, because his name was Harry Potter and he was The-Boy-Who-Lived.
The special treatment should have annoyed him, but he was beyond caring by this point. And besides, Ragnok had much to say about his family vault. His family vault. The Potter Family Vault that Harry hadn't even known existed.
He wasn't allowed to take money from the vault directly until he was at least fifteen. But his trust vault was refilled to 100,000 galleons every week, and he had unlimited access to that vault. It was a loop-hole, and it was one that made Harry wonder just how much money his family actually had.
It was more than enough to let his great-great-great grandchildren live without worry of work. He didn't think he'd ever heard of so much money in one place before.
Ragnok informed him that although he couldn't take the money from the vault, everything else was fair-game, and Harry was eager to see what was down there. But first, he set up a card with the bank that was like a muggle credit card and usable in both the muggle and magical worlds.
The trip down to the vault was just as fun as always, although the goblins seemed a little frightened of the small wizard asking if the carts could go any faster. Many wizards disliked the speed, and to see one so thoroughly enjoy it was a little off-putting.
But the vault…the vault was filled with shelves of books, portraits leaning against the walls, boxes just waiting to be opened and sorted through, furniture neatly stacked and waiting to be used again. He was told that the gold, silver, jewels and such were in the room off the back of the main vault, but he didn't care about that. He never really had.
Instead he was drawn to the boxes marked Godric's Hollow, although there were few of them. These were the things rescued from the house he and his parents had been living in before Voldemort had taken them away. Staring down at them for a moment, Harry shook his head and moved away. He had other things to be doing.
There was a trunk, though, that he found fascinating. Made of a dark red wood and lined with brass, this trunk had the Potter Crest—an emblazoned griffin on a flaming shield—engraved on the top. And it also, apparently, had seven compartments. A useful trunk, really, and Harry grinned to himself as he looked around the vault. Apparently, by tapping this trunk with his wand, it would shrink and unshrink itself without the aid of a spell.
So Harry, without really knowing why, started loading things into the trunk, surprised at how much could fit. In one compartment he put books from the shelves, some of which rather old. In another compartment he put the portraits. In another, the furniture—not all of it, but some was just calling to him and he couldn't help himself. In another he put two suits of armor, some swords, shields and other random weapons. Again, he wasn't sure why he did such. And in another compartment he put the boxes marked Godric's Hollow. Eventually he would bring himself to look through them.
And then he turned and left the vault, not bothering to look behind him. He said his thanks to the goblins, again shocking them with his un-wizardness, and went into Diagon Ally. He then spent the next two hours perusing the bookstore and buying whatever caught his fancy.
After eating a light lunch at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry stepped out into the busy streets of London and frowned down at himself. It was time to get a new wardrobe. This, of course, was much easier said than done, as Harry didn't have a preference to style and simply let a teenage girl dress him as she saw fit. Two hours and a headache later, Harry had clothes that not only fit but looked good as well, and he deemed it worth the hassle.
He stopped at a muggle bookstore by the train-station, again randomly picking books that looked interesting, both fiction and non-fiction. He'd always enjoyed reading, but had gotten out of the habit at Hogwarts, and it was something he was going to change this summer.
He stopped at a small market and picked up a loaf of bread and a bag of apples, knowing that he would need some food for the morning, as he had no idea where he was going. But at the train-station, while looking at a map and trying to decide a destination, the tiny town of Ravenshold stood out. It had less than 200 people and was almost completely surrounded by forest.
It was perfect.
He smiled to himself as seven hours later he was getting off the train and heading towards the town's one small inn. It would be nice to get away from the bustle of the city, away from the people who hated him, and the people who looked at him in awe. To just get away from it all for a while. This was a purely muggle town, and no one would know who he was.
Besides, something was calling to him here. Something that promised peace, and purpose.
Something that, strangely enough, felt like home.
End Chapter One