Resilience

Harry can't say he was surprised or not to find no one waiting for him, but he wasn't about to argue.

He was sure that Dumbledore's spies had reported back to him that his little savior was breaking parole, but if Harry was going to be spending most of the summer in New York, he had a lot to buy before his trip, and not a lot of time before someone came to drag him back to the Dursley's. 

That in mind, Harry started in the Magical world. 

Harry stumbled upon Vertic Alley by accident; he hadn't even known there was other Ally's besides Diagon and Knockturn. The alley had all sorts of law offices, private healers, upper class dinning, and a bunch of mismatched shops offering magical services from everything to ward construction to magical stationary. 

At Abbott's Healing Oasis, Harry grilled the receptionist on their secrecy clauses, before allowing one of the healers, a thin blonde woman with kind blue eyes, to lead him into the back room. 

"So, what brings you in today?" Helen Abbott smiled gently, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, picking anxiously at his cuticles, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. 

"I'm muggle raised, and I know the magical world has its own diseases, and was wondering if I've received any immunizations for them. Also, I was kind of bitten by a basilisk a few years ago, and wanted to check up on that" Harry said, and the healers face went from gently concerned to alarmed in a heartbeat. 

"Please have a seat, I'm just going to run a quick diagnostic" Healer Abbott said, and Harry warily let himself sit on the hospital bed, and watched her like a hawk as she started casting ribbons of cool blue magic over him. 

After a few minutes, she stepped back, and wrote some notes on a floating roll of parchment, then turned back to the spells, this time the magic was green, with slashes of red highlighting certain parts of his body. 

His left arm and hand seemed to be the only areas in his body untouched, everywhere else there was slashes of red, particularly his hands, which were so riddled with red that Harry couldn't see any green. 

"Ah, Mr. Potter, have you had any experience with skele-grow?" Healer Abbott asked, and Harry nodded at his unaffected left arm. 

"My bones were vanished in my left arm a few years ago, Madame Pomphrey fixed me up" Harry said, and Healer Abbott sighed, her hand coming up to rub her forehead. 

"Well, thanks to that incident, the bones in your left arm and hand are the only bones in your entire body without some sort of damage" Healer Abbott took a seat on the chair, so that we were almost eyelevel.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, and she shrugged. 

"It means your magic is responsive, but not so good at moving things into the correct position before healing you. Now, I can fix most of them now, but it will hurt like hell. Or, I can do it over several sessions, at least a week apart, and it will take most of the summer" Healer Abbott explained, and Harry signed in exasperation. 

"I'd rather get this over with quickly. What else?" Harry asked resignedly, and her lips pursed, something dangerous flickering in her eyes. 

"You have severe malnutrition, a large portion of your magic is supporting this problem, if untreated, you'll continue to grow on schedule, but will have severe health problems later in life. However, if I treat it, most of your growth will go towards healing these problems. You will be physically healthy, but you likely wont grow to be much taller than you are now" Healer Abbott explained, and Harry was sure his face must have been amusing because her lips twitched. 

Harry was truly destined to be the shortest in his year at barely 5'4, he'd be lucky to scrape 5'6, if he understood what she was saying. 

"So I have to decide between organ failure in my 30's or a couple inches of height" Harry decided, and she nodded, her eyes sad, but not pitying, which won her bonus points. 

"Pretty much" she said, and Harry shrugged dejectedly. 

"I'm fine being short, I guess, I don't want to survive Voldemort just to keel over because I was insecure" Harry said, and her expression lightened.

"You'd be surprised how many teenagers would rather take that chance" she said, writing more on her parchment. 

"And the immunizations?" Harry asked, and she checked something off. 

"I'll make a note for Madame Pomphrey to administer those when you return to Hogwarts. They cant be taken with the bone strengthener I've prescribed, so just do your best to avoid large crowds this summer" Healer Abbott explained, and Harry looked at his crooked fingers of his right hand, surprised he hadn't noticed when his left failed to match it in second year. 

"So, do you have to rebreak all my bones?" Harry asked, and she nodded sympathetically. 

"Are you ready?" she asked, and Harry nodded, and she flicked her wand sharply. 

A loud snap, like a broom handle snapping, and Harry's body turned ramrod straight, his teeth clenched, and not a sound escaped his mouth as his bones popped, shifting and grinding under his skin. Harry struggled to keep his magic in check as the realigned bones, then stopped moving, only for her to move on the next bone in a never-ending cycle of pain. 

"Aaaand, we're done" Healer Abbott said soothingly, cool bandages wrapping around Harry's fingers, the pain leeching from his body in a rush of endorphins. 

Harry's forehead was damp with sweat, but he hadn't moved an inch during the whole process. 

"That sucked balls" Harry panted, and she cracked a small smile, before pulling out a small case of potions. 

"Now, you'll need to take the top row every 6 hours, the second every 12, and the bottom every 24 hours. And this one," she held up a foul looking dark green sludge "is a single use potion, take it tonight, and wait at least 12 hours before starting your regimen" Healer Abbott explained, and Harry grimaced, but nodded in agreement. 

"Is that all?" Harry asked, and Healer Abbott brought out the contract they had both signed before entering the room. 

"That's all" she said, signing the concluding statement, and Harry did as well.

The contract glowed golden, then vanished, leaving a pale grey copy in its place. 

"Thank you for your help" Harry said awkwardly, and the Healer gave him a motherly smile. 

"Not a problem, Mr. Potter, and if you ever need help with anything non-healer-oath-related, you know where to find me" Helen smiled, and Harry flushed in embarrassment, knowing she'd seen through him to the abused little boy inside him. 

"Thanks" Harry murmured, and escaped the room as quickly as he could without running. 

It was already 3, and he still had quite a bit more shopping to do. 

Harry's next trip was a small tailors, where Harry picked a few pairs of trousers, button ups, and a light jacket, enchanted to grow with him, and to keep him a comfortable temperature. They were nice enough that Harry wouldn't get thrown out of some of the stores he intended to shop at, but could also pass in the muggle world. 

Next, was the small cobbler beside the tailor, where Harry spent more money on a single pair of boots than he ever had before. But when he left, he'd replaced Dudley's shoes with a pair of dragonhide boots, which left no footprints, were soundless, impervious to slipping, and just about indestructible. 

Also in Vertic Alley, Harry wandered into Stegman's Stationary and Correspondence, where Harry found luxury parchment, wax in every color and scent, parchment binders, journals, and about a thousand types of quills.

Among his finds there was a set of truly stunning fountain pens, a plethora of parchment, a few journals bound to his magical signature, and a few nice quills, for practice.

Helen had told him to practice his writing for at least 20 minutes a day in order to adjust to the healed bones in his writing hand, and Harry didn't see why he couldn't use the opportunity to improve on his penmanship.  

(His mothers writing was so pretty, and the orphan boy inside of him couldn't help but think she'd be disappointed in his chicken scratch writing, even if he knew it was stupid)

Harry spent some time poking around a jewelry shop, asking questions about the pieces and magic used to make them, but despite some of the pieces looking very impressive, the magic looked lackluster compared to his moms pieces. Harry bought a pair of earrings for Hermione's birthday, unset moonstones with gold hoops, they could hold a spell indefinitely, and Harry intended to place his patronus in at least one of them. They were one time use, then the spells would have to recast, but Harry knew Hermione would prefer something with a practical use.

Harry's next stop was Smith and Gable's Luggage Emporium, a ramshackle shop wedged between a secondhand bookstore and apothecary, which seemed to also blend into the background. The shop was packed full of trunks, some flickered dimly with magic, and some shone so brightly it made Harry's eyes water. Farther into the shop, Harry noticed they didn't only have trunks, they had messenger bags, duffle bags, briefcases, suitcases, backpacks, and purses of every size and color. 

Harry found himself lingering over a messenger bag in soft black dragonhide, embroidered in gold with an angry Hungarian Horntail, and when he nudged the magic, the material rippled, and expanded into a simple tent, the golden dragon holding the flap closed with its mouth.

"I see you figured out the secret to our Champion Line, known for its versatility in a small package" a voice said, and a young girl, only a year or two older than Harry, with curly chocolate brown hair cut to her chin, and large heavy lidded brown eyes, said from behind him. 

Despite her cute face and innocent brown eyes, absolutely nothing about this girls magic looked either harmless or delicate. It looked like a volcano simmered under her skin, the ghostly red glow made her look demonic, fissures of red light rippled across her skin like rivers of lava. Wings of fire fluttered behind her, at first Harry thought it was connected to her, until she turned to look behind her, following his eyes, and Harry saw some sort of winged cat was clung to her back.

The creature shone so brightly that spots danced in front of his eyes, and Harry knew instinctively that the creature was an Avatar, a personification of her Family Magic. Harry would presumably be able to see his own once he claimed his Heirship when he turned 15, and being a mage, he would be able to communicate with it, even have it spy on others for him. 

"Sorry, why do you call it the Champion Line?" Harry asked, and the girl gave him a dry look. 

"Because Harry Potter is the Triwizard Champion?" the girl said, and Harry thought back to what she'd said. 

Versatility in a small package... Was that supposed to be a sexual inuendo or a crack at his height? Harry didn't know, but his face burned either way. 

"Oh" Harry voice cracked embarrassingly, and he shifted uncomfortably.

His hair must have moved, because her eyes found the scar that covered the right side of his face. The famous scar started at right temple, almost touching his hairline, it bisected his eyebrow twice, one of which ended at the bridge of his nose, and the other cutting across his eye. It left crisscrossing lines of raised red lines across his cheek, ending at the corner of his mouth.

Her face went slack in surprise, but she seemed to pull herself together quickly, "Its... How can I help you?" the girl asked, her own cheeks a little rosy, and Harry cleared his throat, and brushed his hair back, not bothering to hide now that the cat was out of the bag. 

"I'm just looking around" Harry said, and she nodded at the Champion messenger bags. 

"We, uh, also have them in the other styles, if your interested" she said, and Harry's shoulders untensed a bit. 

"Really? That's great, I'm glad" Harry smiled, and she blinked in surprise, then gave him a warm smile. 

"Would you like to see them? The Horntail holds the most, also doubling as a modest sleeping area, while the Fireball will stun anyone who tries to steal from you, the Welsh will camouflage itself to anyone not keyed into it. The Short-Snout will transform into a dog, and return to its owner if someone attempts to steal it" the girl explained, pointing to three racks of bags further down. 

"Magic is so cool" Harry grinned, running his fingers along the blueish-grey material of Cedric's bag, something painful clenching in his chest at the thought of his dead almost-friend. 

"Is it true you grew up in the muggle world?" the girl asked, her tone open and curious, and when Harry looked at her, he found no judgement or disdain in her eyes. 

"Yes" Harry said, and the girl smiled, something in her posture relaxing. 

"Me too. My names Medea Michelson" she said, brushing her hair behind her ears. 

"Your a muggleborn? I figured your family owned the shop, the magical world seems kind of... nepotistic" Harry struggled with his words, and something bitter flashed in her eyes.

"I'm a second generation muggleborn through my mom, and this is her shop" Medea said, and Harry tilted his head back in understanding, before embarrassment colored his cheeks again. 

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply a muggleborn couldn't get a job in a shop" Harry said, his face red, and she gave a bitter shake of her head. 

"Don't worry, I get what you mean. If my mom didn't own this place, and that was a battle in itself, I wouldn't make it through the door" Medea said, and Harry's lips pursed together at the unfairness of that, suddenly seeing the shabbiness of the shop in a new light.

"I'll get, uh, three of each of these" Harry said, grabbing a armful of the bags, and she smiled widely at him, her magic flickering warmly, as she led him back to the checkout. 

Hermione would like the extra space in the Horntail bag, Ron and Ginny would like a bag that knocks people out, and the twins could use somewhere safe to hide their creations from Molly. Harry would figure out what to do with the rest of them later, but if Harry could help support a muggleborn shop, he'd like to. 

"That'll be 45 galleons" Medea said, writing up a receipt, and Harry pulled his moleskin pouch from around his neck, thought of how much money he wanted, and upended the money into the jar on the counter, which counted the coins. 

"Thanks" Harry murmured, and their fingers brushed as she handed over the receipt. 

"I've, ah, included my owl address if you had any other questions" Medea said, and Harry's face was cherry red by the time he stumbled out of the shop. 

In his last stop in Vertic Alley, Harry poked into the lonely tattoo parlor, where Harry was amazed by all the creative applications that could be anchored to a piece of art on his skin.

Unfortunately, the artist explained that the magic tended to react explosively to unsettled magic, meaning minors, and it was illegal to tattoo minors for that reason. 

Harry was disappointed, but promised he'd be back. 

He recognized a few of these tattoos from Sirius' tattoos, maybe he would know more... If Sirius even wanted to talk to him, now that Harry was drifting away from Dumbledore's control...

Back in Diagon Alley, Harry loaded up on books, on a variety of subjects, from both Flourish and Blotts, and the handful of second hand bookstores the Alley had to offer.

(Just because Harry was wealthy now, didn't change the fact he'd grown up with literally nothing; frugalness had been beaten into his bones. Literally) 

Next, Harry stocked up on potions ingredients, including several clippings for the greenhouse in his trunk, since he hadn't taken any from his moms vault. He picked up a couple books he'd never noticed by the front, beginners guilds, including explanations about why it had to be this many stirs, and why it mattered if it was clockwise or counterclockwise. There was an entire book on the differences in crushing, dicing, mincing, slicing, flaying, and the thousand and some ways to prepare potion ingredients.

Hopefully he'd be able to return to Hogwarts a semi decent brewer, at least for now he could practice without Snape hovering over his shoulder.

After the apothecary, Harry stopped for dinner at a cafe on the edge of Diagon Alley and Knockturn, and, speaking of looming, he was halfway through his sandwich when his first babysitter made an appearance. 

"Potter" Snape practically snarled, doing his best to loom threateningly over him, and Harry proceeded to take another bite out of his sandwich, effectively ignoring the tall man.

"Can I help you, Professor?" Harry sighed when the man proceeded to stand there through the rest of Harry's meal. 

"I've been sent to return you to your relatives" Snape said through gritted teeth, and Harry looked up at the man, expanding his magical aura to fill the street, and movement stopped as everyone looked over at them. 

"No" Harry said, and watched as something like surprise flashed in his potion professors eyes. 

"What do you think your doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Snape hissed, and Harry rolled his eyes dramatically. 

"Voldemort is going to try to kill me anyway, and, frankly, I'm bloody tired of holding back, so I suggest you return to your Master and tell him I'm done playing along in his little play" Harry said, and real rage flickered in Snape's eyes as he looked around them for listeners. 

"You think you know-" Snape snarled, and Harry gave him a sunny smile. 

"I wasn't talking about the pasty one" Harry said, and Snape's expression closed off, his eyes expressionless bottomless pools of ink. 

"I'll pass your sentiments along" Snape said, and then he was gone, and Harry dialed back his aura.

Harry finished his tea quickly, tossing some coins down on the table, and made his way into the crowd, blending in with a little flex of his magic. 

Horizon Alley looked to be mostly tourism, with a few inn's, restaurants, a grocer, and a couple boutiques, Harry didn't stick around long, and found himself wandering down Knockturn Alley.

At first, Knockturn appeared to be what he expected, but the further in he got, the easier it was to see that not everything was what it seemed.

Harry was well acquainted with the Ministry's stance on creatures, so it wasn't a surprise to see that, pushed to the fringes of society, they had made Knockturn their home.

Knockturn had all sorts of interesting shops, an eclectic variety, it was like the other 3 Alley's pushed into one, and this is where Harry found most of his books, as well as an increasing sympathy for magical creatures. 

Harry had always been pro-creature, as long as that creature wasn't trying to eat/maim/kill him, but when he walked passed, he saw the way the creatures cringed away from him, even with his aura pulled back.

It was only when a werewolf woman protectively pulled her cub closer to her, her eyes a ferocious glowing amber when Harry walked passed, that Harry got it.

If Harry attacked them, even on the outs with the Ministry, they would be lynched if they defended themselves.

It made something hot and angry crackle under his skin, that the government would turn against their own citizens just because they looked a little different, or turned furry a couple times a month. 

And then Harry met the werewolf woman's eyes, and for a moment Harry was too shocked by her magic to react because it looked nothing like Lupin's.

She had a ghostly echo of a wolf around her, bipedal and seven feet tall, there was nothing wrong or twisted about her wolf spirit. There was connection as thick as Harry's wrist tying the female werewolf to her cub.

"What're you looking at?" the wolf spirit bristled, teeth bared, and Harry looked it straight in the eyes. 

"I mean you no harm" Harry promised, then he walked away, leaving one very confused werewolf behind. 

But it gave him a lot to think about as he wandered between the shops. 

Lupin's wolf spirit was nearly skeletal, bleeding from open sores, its fur was patchy, and it was foaming at the mouth. It was constantly snarling, meanwhile, the woman's wolf only got aggressive when its host perceived a threat to her cub.

Lupin's wolf spirit looked like a monster.

Probably, Harry thought, because Lupin thinks he is one. 

After the third time someone tried to pickpocket him, Harry decided he'd had enough of the magical world, and headed into Muggle London. 

Now, Harry didn't make it known, but he hated wizarding fashion.

It was all bulky and shapeless robes, weird hats, in eye searing colors and busy patterns. He was constantly tripping or dumping things on himself. And, in a world where everyone wore robes, it was frustrating to not understand the unspoken rules regarding cut or length that divided robes from dresses.

Harry was done caring.

If the wizarding world was determined to hate him anyway, then he was going to wear whatever the bleeding hell he wanted while they did it. 

And here comes the part where Harry comes to both despise and love shopping. 

Because for the first time, he was able to pick whatever he wanted. But shopping also required looking at himself in a mirror for longer than a second, and Harry didn't like to think about his body. 

Harry was 5'4 and 120 pounds soaking wet, he had a bit of muscle from Quidditch, but he was noticeably skinny.

There was no denying that he was tiny for a guy. Especially a Dark Lord slaying, Basilisk killing, Triwizard Champion kind of guy. 

Add in the frank conversation Healer Abbott had with him, about how his body and magic would be working hard to fix the existing damage... Harry was resigned to being the shortest person in his class, but he didn't have to like it. 

And, to add insult to injury, his face was noticeably pretty, not handsome, but pretty, and losing his glasses had only emphasized that. 

He had his dads golden tanned skin, thick dark hair, defined eyebrows, and high cheekbones, but his moms full mouth, small nose, and large green eyes, with long thick lashes. The scar only brought more attention to his face, highlighting the softness of his features. 

Hermione was the only person to know about these insecurities, and she'd read him the riot act about encouraging toxic masculinity and gender norms. She'd told him that even if he was a girl, that wouldn't make him any less capable, so being less masculine shouldn't matter. 

That had lead to a highly embarrassing conversation, where Hermione had tried to convince Harry that he was one of the most beautiful people she'd ever met, inside and out. Just thinking about that conversation made heat start to rise in his cheeks. Still, he tried to be less hard on himself, so Harry stuck to the basics for today. 

He mostly stuck to jeans and hoodies, boxer briefs, new socks, and a pair of running shoes. He threw in a pair of combat books, and some classic rock band t-shirts, which Harry figured Sirius would get a kick out of. 

(And a few more outrageous items just to irritate the more traditional wix)

At this point the Piercing Charm had begun to heal, so Harry took off his earrings just long enough to get them pierced for real.

Thinking about the other pieces in his moms vault, he got double lobe piercings, then a set of piercings at the top of his ears. He put his earrings in the top piercings, hidden by his hair, and got some simple gold hoops for the lobe piercings, just until he could go through his moms collection and decide which ones he wanted to use. 

At the end of the long and exhausting day, Harry stopped to look out at the Thames, as he considered his next steps. 

He would go to the New York Penthouse. He would meet his moms Account Manager. Figure out what to do about the Boy Who Lived Foundation. And the Potter Accounts. Figure out where all his friends stood between him and Dumbledore. He should also figure out what Dumbledore's angle is. Find out what the Ministry is planning to do against him, since Fudge refuses to pull his head out of his arse.

Learn how to not die next time he met Voldemort. 

That last one was important, and the one he was most clueless about. 

He could learn all the spells he wants, Voldemort knew more, and Harry had no one to teach him actual dueling techniques. Ideally, Sirius would teach him, but he had no idea where Sirius was, or if he would go against Dumbledore's orders. 

Assuming he even does learn to fight, then what? All his plans of training, but what happens when Voldemort is dead? What does Harry even want to do with his life? 

He didn't know, but it was beginning to seem like that was a Later Harry Problem. 

Harry got to his feet, dusted off his new jeans, tossed his garbage in a nearby bin, and did a cursory check around him. 

"Take me to the Ghost Terrace" Harry said.

His earrings glowed brightly, there was a tugging sensation behind his naval, and then Harry felt himself being pulled away.