Harry was silent as he ate through his scarce breakfast. He had tuned out Hermione's berating and Ron's open-mouthed eating; absolutely disgusting.
Harry couldn't wait to go to Gringotts later in the day. He could hardly sleep because he was excited. The reason for this wasn't clear. He was only buying over a tiny, smelly and hopefully cheap place that had belonged to a descendant of Slytherin. There wasn't much to it. It wasn't a sense of ownership. He owned dozens of properties and had shares in many businesses. He owned a lot already so, what was it?
Harry sat through Potions, where he impressed Slughorn immensely with his knowledge and then Herbology. He had a knack for herbology but of course, no one could surpass Neville in that area of expertise. Deeming it a productive day, he promptly shook off his prison guards and dashed off to the chamber. Luckily, he didn't have an unwanted encounter with the Dungeon Bat on the way.
He hissed the door open, dropped down the tunnel and landed in a Batman-like pose. He threw his backpack onto the chair in the office, deciding that he didn't need the backpack or the chair apart from the vault key, just in case. He walked into the bedroom and chose some simple combat robes after finding that the rest were far too fancy not to mention oversized.
He promptly changed into the significantly more comfortable combat robes, which looked very intimidating and a little too professional and went straight to the steps of Gringotts with his vault key in his right pocket.
"May your enemies' heads roll at your feet," he bowed to the Head Goblin.
The Goblin grinned a rather scary grin. The boy was one of the only ones who even tried to respect the Goblins other than Muggleborns who didn't know any better. The Muggleborns were polite but it wasn't the same with those who knew how to treat a Goblin and respect them. It was quite sad.
"And may your vaults be ever-flowing," he answered, "What can I do for you, Lord Potter?"
"I am afraid I am not here on a personal matter," he sighed. He sometimes came to Gringotts just to talk to the goblins or have a drink. They were good company and didn't care about who he was or what he did; being rich didn't discourage it though.
"Do you know if Burgock is free?" he asked. Burgock was the man to see if you wanted to do something 'off-the-record', per se. He was also a nice bloke who, while still a Goblin, rather enjoyed listening and reading about Wizard affairs.
"Of course, Harry. BURGOCK!" he yelled, slightly frightening Harry. For a creature that small, he sure had quite the voice. A fair-skinned, dark-haired Goblin appeared behind the Head Goblin. In contrast to his boss, he looked fairly young and had a full head of hair. He didn't wear glasses and was dressed in a rather muggle-looking suit.
"Lord Potter, May your gold be ever-flowing," he bowed his head and Harry mirrored his actions, "And may your enemies heads roll at your feet."
They shook hands, Harry, with a smile on their face and Burgock with whatever was the Goblin equivalent to a smile. They made their way further along than Griphook's office and went into a large hall with dozens of Goblins hustling and bustling with all sorts of paperwork and some were shouting at nothing in particular. They each had a cubicle-of-sorts and it reminded Harry shockingly of a Muggle call centre without the 'calling' aspect.
He followed the smaller Being to what was most likely his office, judging on a name plaque that sat on his desk and sat opposite Burgock.
Burgock leant forward on his seat and rested his elbows on the table, "How can I help you, Harry?"
~~~
Harry practically danced his way to Snape's office. It was lucky that he didn't forget about the detention in his fit of absolute joy. He managed to acquire the estate without even trying. It had already belonged to him thanks to the Slytherin descendant, Christal Steward, as he later learnt.
He skipped off to the Dungeons and knocked on the door of the always-grumpy Dungeon Bat.
"Come in," a familiar drawling voice sounded from the opposite side of the door. Harry, not being bothered by the grumpiness of the Professor swung the door open and placed his backpack on the table closest to Snape's desk.
"Such a shame that poor old Dumbledore couldn't get you out of this one eh, Mr Potter?"
Harry just smiled softly, "Nope, I guess not." He tried to regain composure by the use of his Occlumency shields. He found a straight face and nodded.
"Your excessive jubilance is excruciatingly infuriating, Mr Potter," he sneered, not even bothering to look up from the essay he was marking.
"Your constant cantankerous mannerisms are abundantly vexatious, Professor Snape," he replied instantly, smirking, "You're not the only one who can use big words, Snape."
Snape put a final marking on the poor student's essay and put it away, looking up at the Gryffindor.
"Sit," he gestured to the seat opposite his desk. Harry, realizing he didn't have a choice, grudgingly took the seat, crossing his arms over his chest.
They sat there in silence for a few moments before Harry got bored, "What do you want, Professor?"
"How, Why and When?" he said, patiently, leaning back slightly on his seat.
"I am afraid I don't know what you mean, Professor," he tried to provoke the man. It gave him a sense of accomplishment when he did.
"You know very well what I mean, you impertinent child," he sneered, annoyed that he had to deal with the boy.
Harry shook his head, "Nope, nope, I don't think I do," he said putting his fingers to his temples, agitating the Potions Master further.
"Just...just leave," he gave up. The child was insufferable and he already had a long day. He didn't need the Gryffindor Golden Boy to further his misery, especially since he was the one causing it.
Harry gladly took his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He walked to the door but not before turning and giving him a mock salute with a fake breath of relief before turning on his heel and running down the corridor.
Snape shook his head before returning to his work.
Harry, on the other hand, had a hard time stopping himself from clicking his heels on his way to Gryffindor Tower. There, however, his smile was dissipated by yet another nagging session from Granger.
~~~
Harry often went to the Secret Bar he found that day and was utterly appalled with the way that they treated the Dark Creatures. They were treated like scum on their shoes and Harry had built a reputation as 'Noir Evans', as he called himself. He was there whenever he could be there with a book. He was the 'Mystery Man of Knockturn'. He ordered a drink and never drank it, as he was underage, read a book with seemingly no words, as he charmed it to be, and stopped disagreements, whenever he could. A solid reputation, no doubt.
"GET OUT OF HERE, FILTHY SCUM," a man, dressed in ragged robes and a thick beard yelled, pushing, what looked to be a Werewolf, to the ground. The Werewolf was bloodied up because of the constant kicks to the side and punches to the face.
Harry entered the bar at that moment and several of the regulars looked to him in anticipation.
"Good evening, everyone!" he cheered. The attacker looked at him as if he was crazy. That gave Harry enough room to see the Werewolf in such a state.
"If you'll excuse me." He sent a blast of magic towards the attacker and he was blasted back, knocking the display of alcohol bottles down, shattering. Just then, several people dressed in Ministry uniform, like muggle police attire, broke in and began to storm the place. Harry took it as a sign to get out so he grabbed the Werewolf and apparated to Colten Alley, promptly carrying the Being into the shop and conjuring a bed.
He spent the next few minutes shoving potions down his throat and muttering Healing incantations.
***
"You're awake now, are you?" he asked chuckling. He sat in a conjured chair in the same combat robes as the day before, looking quite worn out. He had stayed there for the night, not wanting the creature to die, especially after all his hard work. The Werewolf shot up and his eyes darted around the place. The walls were red and tall. The place was huge, thanks to Undetectable Expansion Charms and looked like some sort of grand hall.
He was put in a hospital bed of sorts, conjured by Harry, in the middle of the room and the memories began to rush in. Drunk Wizards were the worst. 'Fenrir must be worried' he thought to himself. Harry heard this thought loud and clear though he didn't show it. Harry assumed that Fenrir was the Alpha Wolf in some sort of Werewolf pack after extensive research due to his curiosity in Dark Creatures and his pseudo uncle, Moony. He concluded that this Werewolf must be in his Pack.
Harry cast a quick Tempus and concluded that he had to go back to Hogwarts. Staying under a Glamour for that long drained his Magical Core.
"Well then, I must be off," he sighed, getting up and putting on his outer robes and banishing the chair that he had conjured at the last minute, "The exit is that way." He gestured towards the doorway. It was blocked off by a red curtain that he had practised Ward-Weaving on. It was weaved so that only those with a Dark Core could pass, quite the feat.
"Wait!" the Werewolf shouted before Noir could leave. Harry turned on his heel to look at the Wolf, "How can I ever repay you?"
Noir thought for a moment. Sure, it probably wasn't good to take something because of a good deed, but... he was supposed to be a Slytherin.
"Don't worry about it," he chuckled, "If any of you or your werewolf buddies want to have a drink, come over on the weekends after 3. I'll be here," he winked before leaving the bar and apparating off, not knowing what he just did.
~~~
He had researched serving alcohol legally in Magical Britain and it turns out that you needed a license so he began to research. It was quite a weird thing for an underage, though he was emancipated, Gryffindor to be researching Alcohol Licensing but...hey! It was Harry Potter. The boy who defeated the Dark Lord as a one-year-old. He couldn't get any weirder.
"NO WAY!" he yelled in the library earning a death glare from Madam Pince. The woman sure was scary. The students head all turned to the normally quiet Gryffindor. A rare sight, a quiet Gryffindor was. Whatever caused the boy who barely spoke anymore to cause a scene like that, must have been important.
Harry was outraged. Who on Earth pays 5000 galleons for a piece of paper? There was no way he was doing that. Sure, he could afford it but who in the right mind does that. Tom the Bartender must have been loaded to open the Leaky. If he even owned it, he wasn't sure. He slammed the book shut and put it back before walking off. He guessed that the Ministry was just not going to find out. He smirked as he walked to his next lesson. Charms. It was simple stuff...