When Harry woke, he groaned, feeling the symptoms of a raging hangover. He opened his eyes gingerly, ready to shut them if the light proved too bright, but it was actually quite dim, although it did seem to be daylight. He sat up and shock cleared his mind to a great extent.
Unbelievably, he was inside a cupboard he would never forget - wearing - yes, these seemed to be the clothes he was wearing when he went to the Ministry, although they were far too large for him. He held his hand up in front of the vent which was the source of the diffuse light coming into the cupboard, and saw that his hands were the hands of a child.
"Well, I guess it is back in time. Or maybe back in time in an alternate universe…" Harry thought, amused until he was overwhelmed with thoughts of the friends he had left behind who would be frantic with worry. Then again, if he was here now and had gone back in time, did that future exist anymore? He felt sick. Surely it existed. But maybe his going back in time split off an alternate time line? Clearly, he was no closer to the answer to that question than he had been before he propelled himself through the Veil.
Since he was - yep - he checked the door and found it locked… since he was locked in the cupboard that meant it was unlikely the Harry of this time/world was somewhere else. He winced thinking of the Harry he had obliterated, or taken over. He would try his occlumency later, when his head wasn't pounding, and see if possibly that Harry existed inside him as well.
Harry patted himself down. He had no idea why he was wearing his adult clothes since he was clearly in a younger Harry Potter's body, but he was glad of it. He pulled a pouch of galleons and sickles freshly restocked at Gringotts out of his pocket, as well as his Gringotts's key. He felt around himself and picked up his wand which was lying near him on the small mattress crammed into the space.
Looking at Dudley's hand me down clothing on the shelf and at his school books, Harry decided he must be around 9 or 10. He took his ratty hand me down rucksack off the hook on the wall and put the clothes he had been wearing and a school notebook and pen, as well as his moneybag into it. He intended to buy new clothes immediately. He put a mild notice me not charm he had developed on himself which would deter curiosity but not hinder his ability to actively interact with others. He added a glamour to lighten his hair to a dark blond, longer than he usually wore, with a fringe to cover his scar.
He then changed into his best fitting set of Dudley's old clothes, picked up his wand and the rucksack, and attempted to apparate to Diagon Alley.
Harry opened his eyes to find himself lying on the mattress floor of his cupboard, and swore.
He guessed his magical power wasn't yet sufficiently developed in this timeline to apparate. He'd have to take this more slowly.
Grateful he hadn't apparated halfway and splinched himself, Harry decided the Knight Bus was the way to go, since he didn't have any muggle money on him. He listened for any sounds in the house which would indicate his relatives were near, but the house was silent. He unlocked the cupboard with alohomora - success! - and poked his head out to confirm the absence of Dursleys. The coast was clear, so Harry stepped out of the cupboard with his rucksack, and he carefully moved to the front door, noting in the mirror in the hall that he did indeed appear to be around 10 years old, and was clearly himself. The glamour he had applied earlier must have disappeared with his failed apparation and collapse into unconsciousness.
As he stepped outside and down the two steps to the front walk Harry unobtrusively looked around. Only the presence of the Dursleys would throw a hitch into his plan, since the neighbors, not knowing he was supposed to be locked in a cupboard, wouldn't consider it unusual to see him leave the house. The street was uninhabited with the exception of one elderly neighbor pruning his roses a few houses away and he took no notice of Harry as Harry walked down the sidewalk and turned towards the park. Harry wanted to be out of sight when he summoned the Knight Bus. Even though muggles couldn't see the bus itself, Mr. Wilson might find Harry disappearing into thin air worth mentioning to someone.
Once Harry was screened from view by the trees near the park, he restored the glamour he had placed previously and summoned the purple bus to take him to the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry was able to get through the Leaky Cauldron entrance to Diagon Alley without incident, given his glamour and notice me not charm, which was a relief. He purchased a newspaper at a stand near the entry of Diagon Alley and noted that the date was 2 July 1991. So, he was due to attend Hogwarts in the fall.
Harry moved to an empty table at a nearby café to sit down, deciding it was as good a time as any to eat breakfast.
A waitress soon came out of the café and noticed him. "Are you waiting for your parents?" She asked, likely trying to keep the tables free for paying customers.
"No, my Dad will be at Gringotts for a while. I'm having breakfast on my own." Harry realized that he should glamour himself to an older age at the first opportunity, since ten-year-olds were not expected to be as autonomous as he planned to be. Desperately wanting a cup of coffee, he decided that might seem odd at his apparent age and ordered tea and orange juice along with bacon, eggs and toast. If nothing else, this was a much nicer place than the cupboard in which to think things over and make plans.
Clearly, he would have to be careful with his magic. The notice me not and glamour charms he had performed had not noticeably affected him, but both were minor magic. Apparation had obviously been beyond the limits of his ten-year-old magical abilities. Harry would have to come up with a base of operations where he could practice and determine his limits. He idly toyed with the possibility of opening up Grimmauld Place - Sirius's mother should already be dead by now -
Harry straightened up with a jerk. Sirius! Sirius would be alive! …and in Azkaban! Harry winced. Clearly that needed addressing, as soon as possible.
First thing, he should look through the Daily Prophet he had purchased to see if he was in a time identical to the July 1991 he had lived through before, or if there were clear divergences, signaling he was in a different dimension which might have additional unknown differences. Then he should make sure his Gringotts key was recognized by the bank in this time/dimension so he knew he wasn't (or was) limited to the gold he had on him.
Harry's food arrived while he was mulling this over and he eagerly dug in, setting the Daily Prophet by his plate to read while he ate. He hadn't read the Daily Prophet on a regular basis the first time he lived through 1991, but as far as he could tell everything being reported had happened the first time around. He was going to tentatively assume that he was back in time, and that, except to the extent he himself disrupted them, events would occur as they had before.
That being the case, his next stop was Gringotts.
It struck Harry as he was counting out money to cover his bill and a tip that he had unconsciously decided against immediately getting in touch with Albus Dumbledore who would be Headmaster at this point in time and who would undoubtably be interested in his journey to the past. Harry paused to think that over as he finished his tea.
He realized that his feelings towards Dumbledore had changed over the years since he was a student. He had always been in awe of Dumbledore and had followed him with what he as an adult saw as blind loyalty. When he first realized at 17 that Dumbledore had groomed him to let Voldemort kill him, he had been mostly numb to it in the midst of battle. Thereafter, since the slim chance that he would not die given Voldemort's use of his blood actually worked out, he had not dwelt on the fact that Dumbledore had spoken with him day in and day out, mentoring him in how and why to sacrifice his life while hiding so much from him.
In retrospect, hadn't his gratitude and approbation of Snape really stemmed from Snape clearing away the pretense and letting Harry know what his role truly had been? Well, that and guilt from having believed Snape had cold bloodedly murdered Dumbledore. Harry shook his head, thinking how he had named his innocent son after Snape. That had been taking it too far, he thought with wry amusement tinging his grief for his youngest son as he remembered the bitter and belligerent man who despised him for being born. Harry's thoughts soured as he realized that, assuming he attended Hogwarts, he would have to sit through that bullying again. If he could think of a way around that, he would.
In any event, he wasn't sure precisely what his feelings now were for Dumbledore, but it was no longer a matter of blind trust and Harry would think long and hard before discussing his strange past with the man. What was certain was that once Dumbledore had the information, it would become a part of Dumbledore's plans, and any deviation Harry might want from those plans would be a battle. Even leaving the Dursleys would likely be problematic. He would consider the problem of Dumbledore further after he had gotten himself squared away.
Harry put his tea cup back in its saucer and stood up, walking towards the white marble building of Gringotts's Bank. Before reaching there, Harry ducked into an alcove to dismiss the glamour that changed his features, but kept his hair pulled over his scar and kept up the modified notice me not charm.
Harry nodded at the Goblin guards on the stairs politely and received their nods in return as he approached then entered the double doors to the bank. Without thinking about it, Harry followed his habit of bypassing the tellers and walking to the floor manager's desk as would most patrons with sizable accounts who wanted to visit their vault and not merely withdraw coins.
The Goblin at the desk was one Harry knew by sight from his own time. The name plate on the desk told him the Goblin's name was Sharpclaw.
"May your investments prosper and may your enemies fall at your feet." Harry said politely, receiving a sharp look from Sharpclaw in return. "I am Harry Potter and I wish to visit my vault."
Sharpclaw showed interest. "Harry Potter? You aren't the first to claim to be the Potter Heir. I suppose you wouldn't mind visiting the inheritance office and having a blood test done, would you?"
Well! This was new! Harry thought of pulling out his key, but now wondered if this new requirement might mean things had changed such that his key wouldn't work. He had had extensive experience with angry goblins after he, Ron and Hermione had broken into Gringotts in search of a horcrux and left the bank on the back of a dragon, destroying a good part of the bank's structure in the process. It had been years before he could do his own banking, and when he did, he always felt like the goblins were secretly laughing cruelly at him.
With this in mind, Harry decided he didn't want to see how angry the goblins would get if his key didn't match his vault and decided to go along with the blood test.
"That would be acceptable." Harry mused. He then followed Sharpclaw who rose to his feet and led Harry through a door concealing a marble hallway to an interior office with a door marked 'Inheritances.'
Sharpclaw knocked then opened the door. A wizened goblin of advanced age sat behind a desk in room with dark paneling on the wall behind the desk which contrasted sharply with the white marble. "This boy needs a blood test. He says he's Heir Potter." Sharpclaw said abruptly, gesturing Harry to a chair and leaving before the goblin behind the desk said a word.
"Very well." The old goblin said in a surprisingly deep voice. "I am Bloodax, manager of inheritances." Harry nodded his head in acknowledgement as Bloodax reached into his desk and withdrew a roll of felt from which he selected a silver dagger.
"You will cut your left hand and drop seven drops of blood onto this charmed parchment." Bloodax said, pulling thick ecru parchment from a different drawer. "Once the inheritance test is complete you will have the option to take the parchment with the results with you, and the remainder of your blood will be destroyed in your presence."
"Thank you." Harry said, taking the knife as Bloodax stared piercingly at him. Making a cut in his left hand he let the prescribed number of drops of blood fall onto the parchment, then the wound in his hand closed. Just as well, since healing it himself at this age might be unusual Harry mused as Bloodax took back the parchment. After several moments Bloodax looked up and vanished the blood remaining on the knife with a wave of his hand.
"You are indeed Heir Potter. May your gold increase and may your enemies fall to your blade." Bloodax nodded his head in an abbreviated bow to Harry.
"Thank you, Bloodax. May your investments flourish and may your enemies tremble at your name."
Bloodax stood, being hardly taller standing than he had been sitting down, so Harry stood as well. "Your further business is with the manager of the Potter accounts." Bloodax said, opening the door and gesturing Harry through it, not noticing Harry's surprise. Harry followed him down the Hall to another door labeled "Manager of Accounts" with "Houses Abbot, Longbottom, Potter" beneath in gleaming brass. Bloodax knocked and waited to be bid enter before opening the door to a plush office with upholstered chairs and side tables as well as a massive carved wooden desk behind which sat a dignified goblin with a scar across his left cheek. Artifacts and antiques adorned the room and the shelves behind the desk were filled with ritual bowls and ledgers.
"Orepick, Heir Potter has come to visit his vault." Bloodax informed the goblin behind the desk. Orepick raised his eyebrows and sat back in his seat.
"Welcome Heir Potter. May your blood run true and may your investments be inspired."
"Thank you, Orepick." Harry was just playing along at this point, "May your gold increase at your enemies' expense."
Bloodax handed Harry the parchment in his hand with a nod and withdrew from the room. Orepick motioned Harry to a seat. Harry glanced down at the parchment in his hand as he took his seat and felt his eyebrows shoot up at what he read:
Henry James Potter
Son of James Fleamont Potter
Son of Lily Anne Potter, nee Evans
Godson by Oath of Sirius Orion Black III
Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter
Headship available to orphaned Heir at fourteen years of age.
Heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell
Headship available by ring ritual at or after eleven years of age.
Heir presumptive to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black
Vaults:
1687 Henry James Potter Trust Vault.
23 Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter Family Vault (withdrawals restricted to artifacts until Heir assumes Headship of the House of Potter, with disbursements until that time to be made in accordance with the joint will of James Fleamont and Lily Anne Potter.)
9 Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell Family Vault (withdrawals prohibited until Heir assumes Headship of the House of Peverell.)
Heir Presumptive to 318 - Vault of Sirius Orion Black III and 21 – Most Ancient and Noble House of Black Family Vault.
"Is something out of order?" Orepick asked as the silence stretched on and Harry continued to stare at the parchment.
Thinking quickly, Harry said "Not at all. It is just that since my parents died when I was an infant, I was not aware of all of this information. Nor that my name is actually 'Henry.'" Harry muttered, not noticing Orepick's lips twitch in amusement.
"Well, it is my job to answer the questions you might have." Orepick invited. Harry really looked at him for the first time. Orepick was not glaring nor laughing and seemed desirous of being helpful. Is this what breaking the horcrux out of Gringotts had cost him?
At that thought, Harry's breath caught. Wait a minute. This might be an alternate universe, and not just a journey back in time, which might account for the differences in his accounts. Then again, not knowing or suspecting there were any such accounts, Harry had never asked about them, and given the post Gringotts-break-in attitude of the Goblins to Harry, would they ever have gone out of their way to inform him? Harry's eyed narrowed. He definitely thought not.
Orepick's expression was changing to confusion and Harry quickly pulled himself together. "I beg your pardon. I was just wondering why no one ever informed me of more than my trust vault before."
Orepick looked surprised. "Your magical guardian should have been informing you of this. Have you not been shown your statements?"
Harry shook his head realizing that he had never seen statements from Gringotts.
"Well, at age eleven you should start receiving them directly, but, really, I'm surprised you haven't been informed of this before, as part of teaching you your position and educating you on money management." Harry realized he hadn't received any statements after he turned eleven either. He stuffed the thought down and filed it away to think about later.
Suspecting he knew, Harry asked anyway. "Who is my magical guardian? I didn't realize I had one." At this Orepick looked astonished.
"Why, Albus Dumbledore was appointed as your magical guardian given the unavailability of your Godfather, who is in prison. I assumed he was the alternate designated in your parent's wills, but since the wills were sealed by the Ministry, reportedly for your protection, I have not actually read them. The Gringotts accounts transferred outside of probate by entitlement and direct beneficiary designation."
Orepick must have noted that Harry was growing more, not less, unsettled for he volunteered further, "You really should ask him about your properties. While you won't want to manage the real estate yourself at this age, you should be aware of your holdings and your rental properties. Since the will was sealed until your majority, I will have to check to see if title to the properties and the numerous Potter investment accounts were fully transferred to you or are still held by the Potter estate, awaiting distribution. I should think that Potter Manor at minimum would have passed to you directly by entitlement. It was entitled under the old laws. In either event, Gringotts is maintaining all of the properties and is managing the rentals according to the late Lord Potter's wishes, except as specifically bid by your magical guardian. We will continue to do so until your majority, you need have no fear of that." Orepick assured him.
Harry took a risk, since he was learning more from Orepick than he had learned in all his prior years from Albus Dumbledore. "Actually, I wasn't aware I even owned any real property." Harry said quietly, watching Orepick carefully.
If a goblin could blanch, Orepick did. Orepick seemed to fully take in Harry's appearance for the first time, reminding Harry of the mild notice-me-not charm he had applied. "Mr. Potter, forgive me if I take the liberty as a long-time associate of your father and grandfather to say that you are not dressed in the manner I would have expected of a son of your House. Are these overly large old clothes an attempt to dress as muggles do?"
Harry smiled wryly, picking up on the reference to his father and grandfather and deciding 'in for a penny, in for a pound'. "These clothes are literally the best ones I own. Since my parents died, I've only ever been given hand me downs from my much larger muggle cousin." Orepick looked appalled. Meanwhile Harry had been thinking up a likely back story and decided to tell a partial truth. "My aunt and uncle dislike magic and aren't willing to spend money on me, although I am not aware if they even know these accounts exist. I recently found a letter from my parents mentioning an account at Gringotts which had this key in it." Harry fished into his pocket and withdrew his vault key. "My aunt and uncle have no idea I am here today, and I have no intention of informing them."
"That is likely wise." Orepick said grimly. He had drawn himself up to his full height and now glared at Harry's clothes as if they had offered him personal offense.
"Mr. Potter, if you would forgive my forwardness, it seems to me that you may have need of an attorney. In the past your father used the firm of Greengrass and Tonks. I believe Tonks was a personal friend of some degree. Possibly you might wish to consult with them about your parents' will - and your living arrangements."
"Believe me, I appreciate any advice you are willing to give." Harry said sincerely. "Do you know where they are located?"
Orepick turned to the leather bound ledgers behind his back, which Harry now noticed were marked on the spine in gold with names and dates. Orepick pulled out a ledger marked "Potter – 1981" and rifled through it looking for an entry. "Here it is." He said putting a pen to parchment and writing down an address. "Narrow Alley. If you turn left as you leave Gringotts, Narrow Alley is two roads down. The number is on this note." He handed the parchment to Harry who thanked him and put it into his pocket.
"I believe we will likely be having a more in depth meeting once you meet with your attorney, Mr. Potter, but is there anything else you needed from me, today?"
"I would like to see the Potter Family Vault, and I would like to take some money from my trust vault." Harry said. "But could you tell me, please, what this means where it says that Headship of House Peverell is available by ring ceremony once I turn eleven?"
Orepick smiled. "That means that the Peverell House ring is charmed to assess the one who wears it. Assuming you are of blood, which you clearly are, putting it on would not harm you unless it judged you so vile as to be a shame on the House, which would be quite an accomplishment at the age of ten. But after age eleven, if you put the ring on it will judge whether you are qualified to Head the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell. If it rejects you, you can try it again when you are fourteen, and if it rejects you again, you must wait until you are seventeen to try the ring again for your final chance to become Head of the House of Peverell. This option is only available to Peverell Heirs when there is no living Head of House, of course."
Harry nodded. "I can't thank you enough, Orepick. I know my parents would appreciate your explanations and advice to me today."
Orepick dipped his head in respect of Harry's parents. "James Potter was a good man, as was his father before him. I have always been pleased to manage the Potter accounts." Orepick pulled a bellpull beside his desk. "I am calling for a cart operator to bring you to the Potter Family Vault and to your trust vault. Remember, the galleons you take must be from your trust vault."
Harry nodded, and when a knock on the door announced the cart operator, he stood as did Orepick. Harry bowed to him. "Thank you again, Orepick. May your gold overflow and may your enemies tremble at the sound of your name."
"You are entirely welcome, Mr. Potter." Orepick said bowing from his seat in return. "May your investments be fruitful and may your triumph over your enemies be glorious." Their eyes caught over this last statement and Harry smiled sharply, thinking of Albus Dumbledore and all he had learned - and thinking of all the questions he now had. Orepick read his expression and grinned cruelly. Unlike with cruel grins Harry had received from goblins before however, Orepick seemed to be sharing his grin with Harry, rather than targeting it at him.