Defence and Mayhem

shopping

Harry was packing. He remembered his talk with death just a day prior. 

"I will do it."

"Very well then… But there are things you must remember. The time you will go to is not your own. Many inventions were yet to be made, the way of speaking that is of this time was not used at those times. I will give you a month to prepare. Read wizarding etiquette books that were written before 1940. You need to know how to act according to the time you will live in, as if you did it your entire life.

Which brings me to the next subject. Your identity. Your name will be Harrison Peverell, you are a half blood, a direct descendant of the third branch of the family. Your muggle born mother died  during your birth, and your pureblood father, who was ill from dragon pox, died a few months later, leaving you to grow up with the head maid at your family's small manor, which was located in Scotland's highlands. Your mother's name was Miranda Peverell née Williams, and your father's name was Clarence Peverell. You were taught magic by the head maid, whose name was Claire, and your more advanced abilities when you left your childhood home and started traveling and learned more on your journey. I made your identity masterfully, even changing your blood to fit with the information. Even a blood test will only show the details I told you of. The only thing is, that due to changes in your blood, you might lose a few of the traits you inherited from the Potter line, like your untamable hair and aweful eyesight.

The last thing is your journey to the past itself. Do not bring any artifacts that were created or made after 1941, not even clothing. Research the time period you will go to, from both wizarding and muggle perspective. Know the politics of the time and make sure you don't stand out more than necessary."

And so, here he was now, packing the last items before his departure tomorrow.  He permanently transfigured all his muggle clothes to look like they were made during the late 1930's. All the books he took were old, and he couldn't take his broom. But it was fine. He wanted to lead a life in a different time, so he should act the part. After he finished packing, he went to sleep. Tomorrow was a busy day, after all.

 ____

He was here. July 22 1942. In Muggle London, that looked nothing like it did back in his own time. Everything looked as if it came from a historical film. But the people, unsurprisingly, looked depressed, scared, and stressed. It was the second world war, and even though the Blitz had already passed, it was still fresh in mind. 

Harry, or he should say, Harrison, who had no wish to stay in the depressing streets, quickly made his way to where the Leaky Cauldron was, although it was harder than usual, as he couldn't recognise any of the shops that were on the way. After meeting a much younger version of Tom the bartender, and renting a room for the night he went to explore. It was ten in the morning, so he had quite a bit of time. First, he needed to go to Gringotts.

___________

When he went inside the bank, he approached a goblin teller. "I would like to access my vault." The goblin didn't even bother to look up from the documents he was currently reading. "Name?" "Harrison Peverell." 

At that the goblin looked up. "I will need a blood test to confirm your identity as the Peverell lordship is currently unclaimed. If you still wish to access the vault, come with me." 

Harry was led to a small room, filled with blank parchment that was stacked on big shelves. He was gestured by the goblin to sit on a chair that was in front of a massive oak desk, that was in the middle of the room. The goblin sat in front of him, on a tall chair. In front of him was an almost blank piece of parchment. The only marking on the page was the symbol of the bank, imprinted on the bottom left corner of the paper. Next to the parchment, there was a delicate silver knife, the tip of it as thin as a needle. "Pour a few drops of your blood on the parchment. When ink begins to appear, you may stop." Harry did as the goblin said, and indeed, after a few drops, the blood disappeared and instead ink was covering the parchment.