Unleashed

Hoc est meum

"Do you want us to wait for you?" again, he took a small amount of pride in the strength behind her voice as she straightened her back and turned to him, no hint of fear in her eyes.

"No, I will find my way back. I want you to return here and pack up all of Vernon's belonging, someone will be coming to take care of it later" she flinched again at her late husband's name, but he could also see relief in her features. She nodded once before turning back to the cooker and he turned his attention to his nephew who was once again concentrating on his food.  The boy had watched his father being murdered just the day before, and he didn't even have the decency to look mournful, instead he was shovelling food into his mouth like a pig. In fact, Harry was very tempted to turn in to said pig. "If I were you aunt petunia" he started, addressing his aunt but keeping his eyes on Dudley. No doubt she could see the disgust in his eyes "I would look into putting your son on a diet or seeing a doctor. All that weight cannot be good for his body at his age and I would hate to see him die at such an early age due to his eating habits" and if she bothered to listen to him, she would no doubt hear that the word was spoken with so much glee that it implied the opposite.

They ate breakfast in silence with a small amount of tension in the air. When they were done he told his aunt to leave the dishes and just get ready to leave. If they left early enough to beat the traffic, they could get to London in just about an hour. He had too much to do today to waste time waiting for her to finish the dishes. He would have apparated, but after transfiguring his outfit, he didn't have enough magic for such a feat without risking magical exhaustion. So, he settled down into a comfortable chair with the paper and a cup of tea as his aunt bustled his nephew upstairs to get ready.

Soon they were locking up the house and pulling out of the driveway. It took them about an hour and ten minutes of a tense car ride to get London and he directed his aunt to drop him of at Charing Cross road. He saw the car pull away from the corner of his eye as he straightened his clothes and stretched his sore back. He hated car rides, no matter how awesome the car was.

Arranging his hair so that it covered his scar, he adopted an air of a child that knew what he was doing and made his way into the Leaky Cauldron. It was barely midday and he could see some drunk patrons loitering around as he stared straight ahead and made his way to the back of the pub. When he came to the entrance of Diagon Alley, he let a small trickle of his magic into his fingers and tapped the brick the correct order. Watching the alley open never ceased to amaze him so he stood back with a small smile on his face and did just that for a little while, watched.

The air changed immediately he stepped into the alley. On the muggle side, the air was warm, bright and fresh, it had that haze that made you feel languid and lazy. In Diagon Alley, it was charged with magic and excitement. There were people all over the place, shopping, gossiping, and just bustling around. There were still some drunk patrons in the pub, but they were decidedly less. The sound of the floo as people came and went was also somehow comforting as he made his way out the pub and towards the Bank.

He had never been so grateful for his small form as he easily weaved his way in and out of the pub.  His back automatically straightened and his head rose, his nose in the air slightly when he stepped foot in the back. Goblins didn't take any shit from anyone and responded better to those who were straight forward but sneaky and curt with them. Even if they didn't Harry wasn't the kind of person who could do sweet and nice anymore.

"I would like to speak with my account manager" his words were clear and succinct as he spoke to the first free teller he came to. The goblin looked up from what he was writing and leaned over the edge of the podium to scrutinize him. From his original timeline, he knew that the potter account manager had been Ironclaw, but he had no possible explanation for how and why he knew that, so he set his face into an impassive mask and waited.