Alone, but not lonely

** H **

Harry had given up. He should have never told Ares, that he had apparated accidental to the school roof. He should have realised that she would insist on him apparating to London to get healing potions. How stupid of him.

He never would have won that battle, probably because he wanted to go to the magical world himself. Sue him, he was sick of being pushed around like a slave. He had a right to something amazing as well. And Ares was right, the potions she read about and saw at the apothecary could really make his life more lifelike maybe even safe his life considering the injuries he got on a regular basis.

During their ‘fight’, Harry had pointed out all the flaws and Ares had come up with several solutions over the weeks. Harry was amazed by her determination. He wasn’t as hard-working as her. Sure, he worked hard, but it was more a means to survive. Ares just powered through. Listening to his arguments and then finding books, reading them, cataloguing them (both in the library in their head as well as a library trunk she had bought in the Alley), understanding them and then using the knowledge to create a solution for Harry. There was a bubbling feeling in his stomach every time he visited the library between their minds and saw all the new books Ares had read. A feeling that got even stronger, those times when Ares reached out to him and told him she found a solution and asked what other problems needed solving. A bubbling in his stomach, that was strongest, every time he crossed over to his sister and saw her working to ensure his safe travel to Diagon Alley. It was love, he realised. It took him far to long to realise it, but once he had, he couldn’t stop thinking it. Feeling it. He loved his sister, his determined sister, who would collect average grades in school, because she couldn’t spare any more time for ‘making an effort’ there.

And now he had given up.

Well, given in. All the rune sequences Ares had helped him paint were in place. He had painted them in his blood, because he didn’t have any of the wax-potion or special ash or whatever wixen apparently used who hadn’t a wand and Ares had said that if she could use her hair to stich runes on her clothes, then Harry could use his blood to paint them.

He had been worried about the rune sequence outside of his cupboard, what if someone saw. But Ares had ensured him, that she included runes to hide the sequence from anyone not directly related to the caster, which his aunt wasn’t. Ares would be able to see it, as well as his parents and his children, but Ares wouldn’t out him (which she couldn’t do from wherever she was at the moment anyway), they were orphans, and way too young to have children.

It was June the 17th 1988. His relatives had that morning decided to go for a day trip and because he was still punished for getting a better grade then Dudley in English class, no one looked for him. He had heard them talking over breakfast and then leave with the car.

Ares was with her guardians and wouldn’t be able to come with him personally, but she would still be there in the back of his mind.

After opening his cupboards door, he activated the ‘wards’ as Ares called them, by spilling a drop more blood on the activates rune and then he was out of the house and on the way to the shed. No one ever entered the shed, so Ares had helped him to add several wards to it, that would allow him to travel from there, with no one hearing the noise. There were also protections Ares called notice-me-not’s which would ensure even another wizard wouldn’t be able to detect anything amiss. Apparently, Ares had given a box with those enchantments to her Vampire and Hags friends in Knockturn, and they had used several detections they knew and asked a few customers to try as well. And today Harry would meet them, maybe.

While he prepared everything for today’s journey, Ares was sending her Raven with a letter to her uncle, so they would know, that her brother was in the Alley today and might come by if he had the time.

After Harry put on the clothes and bag and activated the glamour he had added to his glasses, so that his eyes would be a regular brown colour and his scar was invisible, Ares had already told him about his possible boy-hero status, he calmed down his breathing and recalled the image of a side street in Diagon Alley. He had to make a stop by Gringotts after all.

Thankfully Ares had convinced him weeks before to practise apparating out of the shed to a tree by the playground. Never back, as neither was sure about when the trace was added and how, apart from it detecting all magic used around.

After apparating Harry needed a moment to breath, but not as long as when they had started practicing. Then he made his way to Gringotts.

“Wow.” Harry couldn’t stop himself, once he left the side street. Seeing Diagon Alley for the first time himself was much more amazing than the few times hoodwinking Ares. There were colourful and moving displays left and right and Harry didn’t even know where to look. His brain couldn’t even make comparisons to Muggle store advertising, as he was still stuck on the moving colours.

“Get moving brotherheart. You don’t want to stick out and you don’t have enough time to look at everything.” Ares had apparently hoodwinked him now. Quickly Harry scolded his features and made his way down the street towards the white building, with the sign ‘Gringotts’ in big golden letters.

Instead of focusing on the warning, he followed Ares instructions and nodded respectfully at the goblins, first to his right, then to his left. Apparently, your main hand side had to be second and even though the Dursleys made him write with right, he was technically lefthanded. So, when Ares told him to paint the runes with his main hand, to ensure they would be steady and readable, he had used his left. After Ares had heard about his writing wrong sided, she had obviously insisted on him writing with left as well, so he would be ambidextrous. Sometimes he hated his sister’s work ethic, especially when she was right about its usefulness. She had even started to learn writing with both hands as well.

“Walk past all the tellers and speak to the goblin at the desk in the back, that’s Farechild I send him a letter that someone would be coming to access the vault.”

‘How many letters did you send?’

“One to Uncle Marcus and one to Knight Farechild. It isn’t necessary to send a letter to the latter when collecting money, but he had asked, if I would be alright with always writing him beforehand so I wouldn’t have to interact with several different people when going to the bank. I agreed to his points and now I’m always writing him, when I know I’ll go by the bank and I’m asking for him, when I come by spontaneously.”

‘Then I guess I make sure to not embarrass you too much.’

“Good morning, Knight Farechild.” Harry didn’t have a key like Ares he could present, and he wasn’t wearing any kind of weapon he could display, so wixen greeting it was.

“Yes?” The goblin frowned down at the small child.

“I’m looking to access my vault. Number 617. Password and personal spell.” They had already discussed this and made sure he knew both by heart.

“Follow me,” the goblin stood and walked towards a door behind him. He was led into a small, dark room with a black glass orb on a bare table. “Vault 617, Lord Voldemort,” the goblin said to the orb.

“That’s the name my godfather gave himself…” Came a small whisper as answer to his feeling of confusion. ‘As in the Dark Lord, who I supposedly have killed after he killed my parents?!’

“Our parents. And yes. I’m sorry.”

Harry sighed.

“Say your password into the orb,” the goblin instructed, before Harry could reply to his sister.

Harry turned his attention to the orb and focused on the right wording of the poem. Ares had mentioned when they practised, that it might be important when breaks would be as well as the accentuations. Unknowingly to the twins they spoke in parseltongue.

The orb glowed in a water blue, signalling the correct password. “The personal spell, please.”

A brilliant, green iridescent snake swirled around the room before turning into a skull that slowly dissipated.

“This way sir.” The goblin walked out of the door and Harry scrambled after him.

Harry continued the conversation with Ares while he filled up a bag with different coins. ‘You don’t have to apologize sistersoul. It wasn’t you’re fault he attacked me or that he killed our parents. There was a war, and our family was apparently fighting on different sides, but we were just babies. None of what happened is your fault and we both survived, so something did go right. Even if it’s just us continuing our family name. Hopefully not legacy, I just can’t see you as an evil dictator.’

He knew what each coin was, but he didn’t have the patient or time to count them. It would be enough either way, as thanks to Ares he already knew the usual prizes, as well as how to bartender for a lower prize.

“Thanks, Brotherheart. I was scared you would hate me once you find out. That’s why I haven’t told you before now. And before than I had needed time to adjusted to it as well. It’s not every day you learn that your sworn godfather, who promised to always take care of you, has killed your parents and tried to kill your twin.” A pained laugh rang over the bond.

‘I’m happy he cared for you. It shows that he couldn’t have been all bad. And considering all those restrictions on creatures and religion, he might have even had a good reason to start a rebellion.’

“Maybe. We need to figure out what his main goals were. The history books might not be honest about those, as they were written by the winner.”

‘Exactly. And our parents might have truly been something wrong. They were only 20 after all, they might have followed their parents and friends’ views without rational thinking, like Dudley and his friends do.’

“So, maybe all of our guardians were good people on the inside. They just made mistakes like everyone else. I like that view. As long as we don’t find proof to the contrary, I’ll say we stick to that.”

‘Agreed.’

“May your gold always flow Knight Farechild.” Harry said once they were back in the receiving hall.

“And may your vaults always stay full.” The goblin answered, before making his way back to his desk.

Harry turned as well and left the bank.

‘Now, where to first, sis?’

“Food. You haven’t had breakfast yet. There is a bar at the edge of Knockturn and Diagon Alley which serves very good fish and chips. They also have different soups and from what I could tell it’s the only place that serves normal juice. I have no clue, why the wixen are so insistent on pumpkin juice and butterbeer. One is more like a cold cream soup and the other has alcohol in it, which you definitely shouldn’t drink before puberty.”

While Ares continued to compare (read complain) about the drink assortment in the wixen world Harry made his way to the bar. He had already heard from about it a few times, though only in passing, as Ares made sure not to talk about food if she could help it. At first, he had been angry about it, then embarrass, by now he understood. He didn’t tell Ares everything as well, he knew she would be able to find everything out, just like he had been able to find all the memories of Ares eating in restaurants, but she wouldn’t do so, it was a breach of privacy according to her, even after Harry had allowed her verbally.

The meal was good, and no one looked twice at him. He made sure to eat slow and he only bought a small portion, as he hadn’t been able to make any of the food store boxes yet. They would need magical spells which seemed to be harder with his magic. He was practicing though. Just like Ares still worked on the personal spell for her godfather’s vault and healing magic.

After paying, they left first to buy a book on healing potions and spells for Harry and then for the apothecary in Diagon Alley. Knockturn wasn’t a safe place if you couldn’t defend yourself. And while Harry could do so, it was better if he didn’t draw attention before being able to orientate himself there.