Harry Potter gets smart and takes control - The Goblet

Chapter 41 The Purging Ritual

Well sh*t. I posted the wrong chapter, sorry about that Lady's and Gents, lets try this one.

Sorry its late, I'm burnt out at the mo, and had work.

Also heads up, this is a intense one. It took me hours and hours to write and tweak the bones of the ritual itself without Harry in it before I even started writing Harry actually experiencing the ritual, then another 2 weeks to do the meat of the chapter and get the whole thing just right so I hope you like it!

Side note: the ritual in this chapter is intense, as it should be.

Loads of end notes:

Harry scouted out the inns that Bill recommended first. He wanted to go to Gringotts straight away but needed to pick a place to sleep first. He was exhausted from being up all night, as well as from the emotional toll of being with his 'relatives.'

It was easy enough to find the inns, once he worked out that most were in the same general area. Interestingly enough it wasn't just the inns that had merely humorous or just lame creepy and morbid names. 'Cobb & Webb's Coffin House,' 'Dystyl Phaelanges; and 'Tombed to Fail' were just a few of the ones he looked at as he searched. The most popular inn seemed to be the White Wyvern. It was also full at this time of year, and the most expensive. But the ones Bill had mentioned all had room, but were outside his meagre budget.

To his annoyance, even the seedier inns were not cheap enough for him to afford. He was also just too tired to feel brave enough to haggle for a price or bargain a trade labour in exchange for food and board. The streets then, he sighed. He'd done it before. He could do it again. At least he had magic and a trunk here. He'd have to scout out the alley first properly, though.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he could feel someone watching him. He didn't stop walking but focused his senses outwards, searching. A hand brushed against his bag flap pressed, against his body. The bag's wards pinged in the back of his mind, and instincts from his time on the streets before Hogwarts flared back to life in an instant. His hand shot out and latched onto a bony wrist.

He recognised the pickpocket. Not because he'd ever seen the kid before, but because 'it takes one to know one.' This one had been stupid enough to get caught. Harry was probably a bit rusty from not having used the skills since he'd got his letter.

Maybe it was time to polish those skills again.

He looked a the pickpocket. Thin, 13, taller than him, glaring at him defiantly, trying to jerk away. Harry just tightened his grip and twisted just enough to be uncomfortable, to get the kids attention to show him that Harry meant business.

He could feel himself being watched and wondered if it was the Alley guards Bill had mentioned that protected the locals from auroras and outsiders.

"Don't." Harry said to the kid, softly, but harshly, "just don't."

He knew not to present a weak front on the streets. It was easy to slip into the old, colder bravado, the old air of menace necessary to survive on the streets of London as a child. It felt like putting on an old familiar jumper, like coming home as he spat at the street rat, "No-one pickpockets, a pickpocket."

The kid scampered as soon as Harry let him go. But Harry had memorised his face, his walk. Harry skulked around the alleyway, watching and scouting, looking for a good place to stash his trunk and set up for the day once he was done at Gringotts.

He watched the people, spotted the guards lurking, and was sure there were more he wasn't seeing. He spotted others sleeping on the streets. He spotted the street rats (the street kids,) wizards that came in every so often from Diagon that screamed of 'dodgy' and 'outsider.'