Harry Potter:blood legacy

"— About what?" the boy tilted his head curiously.

"— Your scar."

"— What about it?"

"— Well, from what everyone's heard, you were supposed to have just a lightning bolt, not... this," she pointed at it.

"— It just turned out like that one day," Harry shrugged. "— If everyone supposedly knows about my scar, why has no one ever said anything to me about it, and how does everyone know?"

"— I'm not sure about the answer to your last question," Bathsheba admitted. "— After you-know-who died, word spread across the country that you defeated him. As for the first part, well, I didn't say anything when we first met because we barely knew each other, and I didn't want to seem rude. As for everyone else, I think people either didn't know who you were and just thought you had a strange scar, or they were so excited to meet the boy-who-lived that they didn't pay attention, or maybe they just assumed you did something weird to it, or something else."

"— Well, I didn't do anything to it," Harry rolled his eyes. "— Anyway, I've got another question. If I want to come here again, should I contact you or something?"

"— Hmm, not exactly. If you want, you can ask a Muggle taxi to drop you off at Charing Cross Road, or you can call the Knight Bus."

"— The Knight Bus?"

"— Yes, it's a special bus for witches and wizards. Just step onto any street and make sure no one's watching before you stick out your wand, and it'll show up soon. You pay, and it'll take you anywhere you want. If you'd like, we can take it to your house."

"— I'd love to," Harry smiled.

---

"— I didn't like it," the boy concluded as he stepped off the bus, holding his suitcase with all his school belongings in his left hand and the cage with his feathered postal companion in his right. The owl and Jet let out a few irritated sounds, expressing their opinion of the trip. The Knight Bus was like a very fast roller coaster— not that Harry had ever been on one— but without any safety measures, he'd almost been thrown out of his seat and nearly landed on his owl. He would have, if Bathsheba hadn't managed to catch him.

"— Understandable," the professor nodded. "— That's why I prefer Apparition."

"— I liked that even less," Harry snorted.

"— You'll get used to it," Babbling shrugged. "— Anyway, we're back. Do you want me to come in and talk to your family?" she asked, noticing the car in the driveway.

"— No, it's fine. If I have any questions, I'll just send my owl. That's okay, right?"

"— Of course. And you've understood everything about the ban on underage magic during the summer, haven't you?"

"— Yes," Harry nodded, hiding his disappointment at not being able to use magic at home. All he could do until he came of age was imagine what he could have done to the Dursleys if it weren't for the blasted restriction. Fortunately, his snakes were enough to keep them in check for now.

"— Good, and I'm glad I didn't mention the part where the Trace only actually activates when you're enrolled in Hogwarts," Bathsheba casually noted, making Potter stare at her in astonishment. "— You do realize I'm not supposed to tell you that, right?" a small smile touched her lips.

"— Of course," the boy grinned mischievously. "— I completely understand."

"— Good," the professor said, realizing she probably shouldn't have told him that, but there was something about the child that made her want to help him. That smile— pure joy and elation on his face— made it worth it. Perhaps it was the impression she'd gotten of his relatives that made her want to assist him. "— Are you sure you don't want me to come in and talk to your uncle and aunt?" she asked one last time, hoping he'd say yes.

"— I'm sure, thank you," Harry nodded. The woman barely managed to stop herself from frowning but nodded in agreement.

"— Alright, then. See you at Hogwarts," she said her goodbyes before Apparating.

Potter shook his head before heading to the door, which was open, so he didn't bother knocking. Once he'd unpacked his belongings in his room, the boy remembered something that made him furious, so he headed straight to the living room.

"— You lied to me, you fat pieces of pig dung!" Harry snarled immediately, glaring at Petunia and Vernon, ignoring Dudley. "— You told me my parents were drunks who died in a car crash!"

"— What... what are you..." his uncle started, but Harry cut him off.

"— I met a teacher who works at the same school my parents went to! Why did you tell me they got drunk and crashed a car when they were killed by a terrorist?!" At that moment, he noticed his relatives weren't focused on him but on something behind him. Harry turned and saw an elderly man and woman staring at him with their mouths agape. "— Oh... hi," he muttered awkwardly. "— You must be Uncle Vernon's business partners. Well... I'll leave you to it," Potter smiled before quickly exiting the room.

---

The next day, Harry called that blasted insane bus again and headed to Diagon Alley, specifically Gringotts, to ask questions he hadn't wanted to bring up yesterday in front of the professor. Yes, she was nice, but he wasn't ready to trust her completely.

"— Excuse me," he said, approaching the head teller.

"— Ah, Mr. Potter," the goblin inclined his head. "— How may Gringotts assist you today?"

"— I have questions about my family and its finances. I'd like to speak with someone who can provide answers."

"— Very well. Anything else, Mr. Potter?"

"— Not at the moment," Harry shook his head as another goblin appeared beside him.

"— He will take you to the manager of the Potter family accounts," the head teller explained. "— May your gold flow like a river, and may your enemies die a terrible death."

"— Thank you. May your gold flow like a river, and may your enemies drown in their own sweat," Harry replied (Translator's note: Honestly, I can't tell if he's being serious or just messing around).

"— Mr. Potter, where do you come up with these responses?" the goblin asked curiously.

"— I have an active imagination and relatives I don't like who sweat profusely," the boy shrugged.

"— Ha," the teller snorted. "— You are an interesting individual, Mr. Potter."

"— Thank you. For what it's worth, you're interesting too," Harry nodded at him before following the other goblin.

---

Harry sat in an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express, dressed in black sneakers, blue jeans, and a gray shirt under a black hoodie. He was grateful to Professor Babbling for not forgetting to tell him how to access the platform; otherwise, he would've been stuck.

The last few weeks with the Dursleys had been, at best, unpleasant. They were far from happy that their "dear" nephew had ruined an important business meeting for them, but they couldn't express their anger because he still had his snakes and now a wand. Aunt Petunia had tried pointing out that he wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school— knowledge she had thanks to Lily being a witch— but Harry had cheerfully informed her that until he officially enrolled at Hogwarts, he was perfectly allowed to perform magic.

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