Harry Potter Short Stories

The day Albus Dumbledore never remembers

Harry sat in his bedroom at #4 Privet drive and stewed. He couldn't believe the nerve of the Headmaster. Here he was predicted to be the destroyer of Voldemort and where did the Headmaster send him? Back to the banes of his existence, the Dursleys. No teachers, no training, no bloody information and he was supposed to blithely trust the Headmaster? Not bloody likely!

The Headmaster had gotten Sirius killed. He'd let his pet deatheater torture Harry mentally in the name of teaching him occlumency, and he'd allowed that bitch Umbridge to torture students and screwup the school. Harry had had his fill of the Headmaster's plans. In retrospect he saw how his life had been one long production by the master of manipulation starting from his being deposited on the Dursley's doorstep. Well, Harry would make other plans.

Uncle Vernon had been very unhappy when the Order had threatened him outside of King's Cross. It had taken some very fast talking on Harry's part to avoid his Uncle taking his anger out of Harry's hide; it still cost him extra chores every day. On his second day home Harry decided enough was enough, his vault had enough money there was no way he should be living like a house elf.

He had realized last summer after the farce of a trial, that he had made his wand light up without touching it. Which meant he'd done wandless magic and since that spell hadn't been noticed that meant wandless magic wasn't traceable by the ministry. He was no fool, no matter what everyone at school said. He had then on the sly worked on three spells and mastered them wandlessly alohomora, accio, stupefy.

On his second night home Harry decided he needed more information, so he escaped his locked room with an alohomora and slipped out of his room under his Invisibility cloak. He crept quietly into the bedroom his sleeping aunt and uncle shared. He slipped into the closet where his uncle kept the safe of financial documents and whispered alohomora.

Harry hated his uncle but there was one aspect of him he trusted. Vernon was meticulous in his record keeping. Harry suspected that records regarding his expense in the household would be in the safe since Vernon wouldn't want him to see them. Sure enough there were the records. Using a penlight borrowed from the utility drawer he looked at the file. His aunt and uncle had gotten four hundred pounds every month since he was placed with them. The records clearly showed that they had only spent fifty or so of it each month on him since his arrival. The exceptions were the month that Dudley had shoved him down the stairs and he had broken his leg and the time when he had gotten pneumonia as a six year old after walking home from school wearing a light jacket in the first storm of winter. Harry stifled the urge to hex his aunt and uncle. He carefully took the record and slipped from the room.

When he got back to his room he got a piece of parchment out, he looked to his owl and said, "Hedwig I have a very important delivery for you later maybe you should go get a light snack while I write this." After churring in agreement she left. Harry thought carefully about what he wanted to say and how to say it. After seven tries he was finally satisfied.

To the Goblin in charge of the Potter account

Dear sir,

I am Harry Potter and I suspect that my accounts are being defrauded. I wish to speak with my account manager about my concerns. I also wish to see a copies of my parents' wills as I understand Gringotts oversees duplicates of wills for the ministry.

Sincerely,

Harry James Potter

P.S. I am presently being prevented by other people from traveling freely so if you would please, a portkey to the bank would be appreciated.

Harry shuddered as he wrote the last because he despised portkeys but if it got him answers he would live with it. Hedwig returned so he gave her the letter and told her to wait for a reply. He slipped the file into his hidey-hole under the floorboard, and waited.