Resilience

Harry mentally added 'learn how to use port keys' to his list for this summer.

"Ouch" Harry groaned, rolling onto his back, and looking up at an arched ceiling. 

Getting to his feet, Harry stepped forwards, and was rendered speechless. 

The penthouse was huge with an open concept, arced 20 foot ceilings, exposed wooden beams, exposed red brick, and an entire wall of floor to ceiling windows. 

Harry was standing in the living room/foyer in front of a huge stone fireplace, the mantle was decorated with pictures of his parents, and a few baby pictures of himself. In front of him was a huge couch, two armchairs, and a coffee table with a little pot of floo powder.  

There was a kitchen out of Aunt Petunia's wet dreams, a dining room with a huge wooden table, and French doors leading to a balcony overlooking the city.

And as fantastic as the place was, it was what was underneath that took his breath away. 

He was getting tired of thinking this, but the magic was unlike anything he'd seen, the walls, ceiling, and floor were painted every color, and yet no color. It was like trying to look through a thousand layers of paint, only to find a Picasso underneath. 

Harry knew why his mom nicknamed this place the Ghost Terrace, it was because this floor didn't exist on any blueprints. It was completely undetectable, the wards almost as thick and complex as Gringotts. 

"Well, home sweet home" Harry murmured, and sat down on the couch, suddenly exhausted by everything that had happened in the hours since he'd left the Dursley's. 

Had it really been only hours since then, Harry thought dazedly, and found himself stretching back on the couch, already on the brink of sleep. 

He'd deal with everything else tomorrow.

July 1st 1995

New York City, NY, USA

The Ghost Terrace 

When Harry managed to drag himself away from the couch, he found the door leading to the Master Suite, complete with an ensuit and walk in closet, as well as two more bedrooms, a library/study that was oddly bare, a potions lab, and a bathroom. There was also a set of stairs that lead to a rooftop garden, with a magically expanded greenhouse, and a panoramic view of the city. 

It had been almost 10pm in London when he left, but 5pm in New York, and he'd slept like the dead for a solid 10 hours on the couch, which was the most uninterrupted sleep that Harry thinks he's ever gotten. 

Especially since... Cedric. 

So, it was 3 in the morning, and Harry was unpacking his new wardrobe into the walk in. Despite buying what he had thought was a lot of clothes, the few items he unpacked just made the space look bigger. 

Harry didn't have that many personal belongings beside the things he had bought today, but he left his map, broom, and cloak in the trunk. He pulled out his photo album, and stuck his wand in his new wand holder on his right arm.

Harry felt better knowing he wouldn't have to fumble for his wand, and that he could defend himself if he were attacked.

(Another lovely benefit of his new earrings was the Trace Blocker, which Harry was annoyed to learn was on almost any magical household and even some heirlooms)

Then he tackled the library, where he had to break out his moms grimoire to figure out how to reset the Archive Rune Scheme, designed and patented by his mom.

The Rune Scheme had two parts, creating an archive, or an inventory, of all the books a Family owned. His mom had already done this, Harry just had to add his own books to the Archive. And then each of those books had a Tag that would return the book to the Archive if it were lost or stolen.

The Tag is undetectable, and could only be removed by the ward holder.

This came in handy when Death Eaters started looting the homes of people that they killed. So, a lot of people did what his mother did, and put the Archive in their Gringotts vault, to protect their Family history and knowledge. 

(Apparently she faced a lot of opposition from the Ministry, who, surprise surprise, didn't like that the books they confiscated, were disappearing)

Then came the potion lab, where Harry found a preserved cupboard of potion ingredients, bigger than even the one Snape had, and added his own ingredients to the mix. 

By the time Harry was done, it was closing in on 6 am, so Harry made his way into his ensuite, and broke out the package Healer Abbott had put together, along with written instructions for when Harry was to take what, starting today. 

Opening the box, Harry pulled tray after tray of potion vials, creams, and what looked like tea leaves, all of which were numbered. 

When Harry went through the schedule, he found a legend of which number meant what, but the schedule itself only said to take Potion 1 before breakfast, or use Cream 5 as a moisturizer after a shower. Once a week Harry was to use Tea 7 in the bath, not to be confused with Tea 3, which was for before breakfast, and Tea 7, which was for before bed. 

This was going to take some getting used to. 

Triple checking the schedule, Harry carefully pulled out 3 vials, 3 creams, and a tea. 

The creams were shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer, which would boost Harry's vitamin deficiency, his immune system, and hopefully remove some of his scars.

Harry stripped down and got in the shower, taking a moment to bask in the perfect water pressure, before putting some of the shampoo in his hand, then adding it to his wet hair. The shampoo felt fizzy against his scalp, like he was washing his hair with soda, thankfully it didn't smell too bad, oddly herbal, but not bad. 

The conditioner felt like silk in his hands, and when Harry mixed it into his hair, his curls unfurled so his hair was pin straight under the water, his hair brushing his shoulders. 

Even when it was washed out, and he was drying off, his hair felt soft and fell around his face in soft waves, which slowly turned into loose curls as it dried. 

Harry rubbed the moisturized into his skin, it felt tingly and smelt strongly of mint, a little unpleasant, but it was only when he put it over one of his scars that it burned like disinfecting a cut. 

Finally, Harry took the three potion vials, and swallowed them in quick succession, trying not to throw up on the shiny floor of the bathroom.

Harry ended up sitting on the floor of his bathroom, naked as the day he was born, for half an hour, trying not to pass out as nausea and pain wracked his body. When it finally faded, Harry felt better than he remembered ever feeling, the pain in his stomach, which he'd never noticed, was gone. 

And he was starving. 

Harry stumbled to his feet, and got dressed in a clean pair of underwear, jeans, and one of his classic rock t-shirts, then made his way into the kitchen. 

Much as he expected, the kitchen was mostly bare, so a grocery run would be in Harry's future. 

But he did find some non perishables, including a package of oatmeal, so Harry dug out a kettle, and made the healing tea while he fixed up a batch, and even found some brown sugar and honey. 

Harry drank the tea quickly, the taste unpleasantly bitter, and it sat in his stomach uncomfortably until he started to eat, where the oatmeal seemed to absorb the tea. 

Harry ended up eating two portions of the oatmeal, suddenly ravenous, and when he was done, he expected to feel uncomfortably full, like any time he pushed himself after returning to Hogwarts.

But he didn't even feel bloated, just like he had a sudden burst of energy, as if he'd chugged an energy drink.  

Washing his few dishes, Harry checked the time, and found it was already 8, and decided he should head to pick up groceries sooner rather than later. 

After a brief search, Harry found a key hanging on a hook. When he picked it up, the fireplace rumbled, and then it was replaced by a set of matte grey elevator doors, the number at the top was replaced by a cute little cartoon ghost.

His lips twitched at his moms little joke, he took a quick look in the mirror. 

Faded Queen t-shirt, ripped jeans, and dragonhide boots, which passed for leather unless someone knew the difference, would pass in the muggle world. Harry ran a brush through his hair, his hair, already brushing his shoulders, had gained around 2 inches of length from the hair potions, which had somewhat tamed his frizzy curls, so Harry was able to pull most of it back into a short ponytail.

He grabbed his wallet, counting his leftover pounds and trying not to grimace.

He would have to convert more money soon, he'd been hoping to avoid the magical world here for as long as possible.

Harry stuck his wallet into his back pocket, finding it a tight fit for the first time in his life, and then he was off. 

Inside the elevator, he noticed there was 36 floors, the lobby, and three levels of underground parking, but between each number were blank buttons.

Other ghost floors, Harry realized, his mind already spinning at the options. 

There would be other people who needed safe houses when the war kicked off, and this would be the perfect place for them.

Harry would have to figure out the logistics of that later.

Harry stepped out into the lobby, and found himself startling as he was approached immediately by the concierge, a boy a few years older than Harry, with perfectly styled blonde hair, and a crisp uniform. 

"Excuse me, how did you get up there? That is the penthouse elevator" the concierge' lips were pinched, and Harry was suddenly reminded of Draco Malfoy, though this boy was considerably more polite than Malfoy. 

"Yeah, I know. I just arrived last night, but this place used to be my moms" Harry said, green eyes narrowing as the concierge moved to grab his arm. 

"Your the Evans boy?" the concierge blinked in surprise, pulling his hand back, and Harry nodded shortly. 

"Harry" Harry introduced himself, and the boy still looked surprised. 

"I'll have to confirm with the building manager, its our security protocol, I do apologize" Harry received a tight customer service smile, and let himself be led to the front desk. 

"I didn't tell anyone I was coming" Harry warned them, but the boy just picked up the landline and dialed a number. 

"Hi, Mr. Clark, I've got Harry Evans here, does he have access to the Penthouse?" the boy asked, and Harry watched in amusement as red filled the boys cheeks. 

"Uh, yes, I understand" the boy said, then hung up after a short goodbye, and gave Harry another customer service smile, this one more genuine. 

"I apologize, Mr. Evans, no one has stayed in the Penthouse in years, so I wasn't expecting you. Welcome to The Lilypond Suites, I hope you enjoy your stay. My name is Ben, if you need anything, just let me know" the boy said, his small smile lighting up his blue eyes, and making him considerably more attractive. 

Without his permission, his mind couldn't help but wonder if Malfoy would look that pretty when he smiled. 

Harry's face burned at the thought, and he shot Ben an awkward smile, suddenly wrong footed by the friendliness, and unsure how to respond. 

"Oh, thank you. Do you know where I can convert some pounds? I didn't think to do it before I left" Harry smiled bashfully and Ben opened a cash register. 

"I can do that for you, how much would you like?" Ben said, and Harry pulled out his wallet. 

"Uh, I have 237 pounds left" Harry handed it over, the boy did a small mental conversion, then handed Harry a handful of notes. 

"Welcome to New York, Mr. Evans" Ben smiled, and Harry gave a small awkward wave before stepping out of the lobby and into the streets, which were surprisingly packed for early morning. 

It took some wandering before Harry found a grocer, the small corner store looked so different from the grocery stores he'd seen in Surrey, and even more different from the magical version he'd seen yesterday.

Harry picked up a couple cook books while he was browsing. He'd been cooking for the Dursley's since he was 6, but he'd always cooked what Petunia wanted, he'd never had a chance to explore his own tastes. 

Harry was browsing the fresh produce when he felt someone looking at him. 

He tried not to be obvious about it when he looked around, but he didn't see anyone suspicious. There was an elderly couple, an middle aged woman in scrubs, probably coming off a night shift, and a teenage boy frowning down at a list. 

"Hi" a voice startled Harry, and he turned to find a teenage girl, about his age, with short dark purple hair and big brown eyes, smiling at him. 

"Uh, hello" Harry smiled awkwardly, and the girls face lit up.

"Your British! Your accent is adorable!" the girl grinned, and Harry gave an awkward smile.

"Ah, thanks" Harry murmured, not sure how to respond as the girl drifted closer to him. 

"Did you just move here or are you visiting?" the girl asked, and Harry shifted his basket uncomfortably. 

"I'll here for the summer" Harry admitted, and the girl looked a little disappointed, but cheered up quickly. 

"That's fun, are you planning on doing the tourist stuff?" the girl asked, and Harry felt a seed of suspicion grow in his stomach. 

Why would she want to know that? She didn't look like a Death Eater, but that's what Polyjuice is for, Harry contemplated. 

"I'm not sure" Harry said noncommittedly, and the frowning boy was suddenly approaching them.

"Sam, mom wanted us back by 7, you can flirt later" the other boy rolled his eyes in exacerbation, and Harry's face went red as a lobster. 

Oh. So... not a Death Eater. 

"Jake!" the girls, Sam, face went almost as red as Harry's, but her brother was unmoved, his eyes looking Harry up and down, and levelling him with that overprotective brother look Harry had seen on the twins face several times. 

"Sam, lets go" Jake said, and Sam's face twisted in rage, but she shot Harry an small wave before walking off, a storm cloud forming around her.

No, just her magic, Harry realized, the small flame all muggles carried had grown, and projected an aura of danger around her, which her brother seemed immune to. 

"Hey, eyes to yourself" Jake suddenly said, and Harry realized that he'd been starring at her walk away. 

"I was not, I mean" Harry stammered, his face red, and decided that bravery was overrated, and decided to make a getaway. 

"Uh huh" the boy muttered disbelievingly, and went to join his sister, while Harry disappeared into a different isle. 

Nothing like that had ever happened to him before, maybe it was an American thing? Was scrawny attractive here? Harry hoped not, because he didn't think he could survive another encounter like this one. 

Give him a dragon or a Dark Lord over human interaction any day of the week.

Honestly, it's almost as if he was raised to be more comfortable with negative attention than positive, I mean its not like he was starved, beaten and ridiculed for any attempt to make friends.

Oh, wait. 

Yeah, its a miracle Harry has the few friends he does.

Harry collected the last of his things, and made his way to the checkout. 

"Any bags?" the cashier asked, snapping her gum, and Harry asked for three. 

He was just walking into the lobby with his bags, when he noticed Ben talking to a man in an expensive suit, and Harry was shocked by the look of this mans magic. 

After being surrounded by muggles, who had a small amount of internal magic, like a stagnant pond, it was isolated from the magic around them. In comparison, wix were the lakes, flowing into other bodies of water, connected, but separate, and each was unique in its own way.

But this man's magic was... odd. 

Where wixen magic usually formed a nebulas around them, like storage for their excess magic, this man's magic flowed through him, and then back into the world. Using the water analogy, it was like a river, moving too fast to stay in one spot, but just as powerful as any other wix. 

"Harry Evans?" the man straightened as he approached Harry, and Harry tightened his grip on his groceries. 

"Yes?" Harry asked, and the man smiled, exuding an aura of calm. 

"My name is Richard Clark, I was your mothers Account Manager" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry's eyes lit up in understanding. 

"Oh, yes! The bank said that you lived here, I just wasn't expecting to see you so soon" Harry admitted, and Mr. Clark gestured for the Penthouse elevator. 

"Could we talk further upstairs?" Mr. Clark asked, and Harry hesitantly nodded. 

"Sure" Harry agreed, and the two of them got on the elevator, and stood in silence for the seconds it took to get to the top. 

"I understand that you'll be staying here for the summer" Mr. Clark said, watching as Harry unpacked his groceries. 

"Yeah, I go to Hogwarts, so I'll be returning for my 5th Year" Harry said, closing the cabinets, as Mr. Clark cleared his throat. 

"How did you know that I knew about-" Mr. Clark started, and Harry hesitated, unsure if he wanted to tell a stranger that he could see his magic. 

"Just a guess" Harry said, and Mr. Clark didn't look like he believed him, but he didn't press. 

"There's some information that we'll have to go over, may we have a seat?' he asked, and the two of them had a seat at the dining room table. 

"So, what exactly do you do?" Harry started, and Mr. Clark pulled a folder from his briefcase. 

"My father was a squib, his Family was a Vassal of an Ancient House. When he was a teenager, his father found him, and offered to put him through college if he helped their Lord's daughter adjust to the muggle world. Her name was Rosemarie Parkinson, and she married Hadrian Evans, and had two daughters, one of which was a witch" Mr. Clark began, and Harry nearly choked on his saliva. 

"You mean to tell me that I'm related to Pansy Parkinson" Harry demanded, and Mr. Clark's lips twitched in amusement. 

"She would be your second cousin, yes. Anyway, I was in business school when Rosemarie asked me to help Lily do a little investing, and your mother never did anything by halves" Mr. Clark opened the folder, and Harry found himself looking at long lines of numbers and statistics. 

"The stock market" Harry realized, and Mr. Clark smiled. 

"Your mother was extremely clever. She would invent something in the magical world, take half the profits to the stock market, and invest that back into the magical world. This kept the goblins happy, and the muggles from questioning where her capital came from" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry grinned to himself. 

"No one ever told me about any of this" Harry admitted, and Mr. Clark gave a rueful grin. 

"That's because very few people knew about it" Mr. Clark said, and Harry flipped through the pages. 

Most of it was gibberish to him, but the numbers he was seeing were no joke, these stocks had to be worth millions.

"I don't know much about stocks, so if you could keep doing what you've been doing, I'd appreciate it" Harry admitted, and Mr. Clark smiled gently. 

"I didn't expect you would, my son is about your age, and he is similarly bored by all these numbers. However, this is just the stocks, your mother also has several investments, including the one we're standing in" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry face lit up. 

"Yeah, I saw that there was all those extra floors, did she buy those units as well?" Harry asked, and Mr. Clark raised an eyebrow, looking amused. 

"My boy," Harry resisted a flinch, but Mr. Clark seemed to notice his aversion to the word anyway, "your mother bought the building in 1980, when it was on the edge of ruin. She hired a team of magical contractors, and together, they created a masterpiece. There are 36 hidden floors, each can hold up to 20 apartments, the building can withstand a nuclear bomb, and, if necessary, the magical floors can be transported to a secondary location" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry was stuck speechless. 

"Wouldn't the muggle side of the building collapse if half the floors vanished?" Harry asked, and Mr. Clark gave a mischievous smile. 

"Except that the magical floors don't technically exist, just as there is no Platform 9 3/4" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry sat back as he absorbed that. 

"So... My mom took out a mortgage when she rebuilt this place, and the muggles living here have been paying for it" Harry realized, and Mr. Clark nodded. 

"Your mother reasoned that not everyone fleeing from the War would have access to their funds, but the muggles weren't at war, so she considered it fair game" Mr. Clark shrugged, and Harry let out a breathless laugh. 

"When will it be paid?" Harry asked, and Mr. Clark winked at him.

"The last payment was made July 1st 1989" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry absorbed that. 

"Okay, is there anything I have to do about that? I have no idea how to manage a building" Harry admitted, and Mr. Clark shook his head. 

"No, we have some very proficient staff that ensure the building runs smoothly, and thanks to the magical nature of the repairs, we rarely need repairs or renovations" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry slouched in his chair. 

"Is there anything else?" Harry asked, and Mr. Clark's lips twitched. 

"A few projects that your mother was planning before she passed. I assume you saw the other property that she had amassed?" Mr. Clark asked, and Harry tilted his head back as he tried to remember. 

"Something in Hogsmeade, a flat in London, and a property in Canada" Harry remembered, and Mr. Clark smiled gently. 

"Yes, your mother had dreams of forming a magical university after the war, which was the purpose of the property in British Columbia. Over a thousand acres of land, full of magically rich land, which became a safe haven for magical creatures, and continues to be so. The inhabitants pay tribute with potion ingredients, worth more than any amount of galleons" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry absorbed that. 

"And the other two?" Harry asked, and a weight seemed to settle over Mr. Clark. 

"Petal Cottage was a shop, they had a research lab in the basement, where they created experimental charms, and sold them to the general public once they were safe. It was created by your mother and her best friend, Pandora Greengrass. After your mother passed, Pandora continued the business, but it closed in 1991, after Pandora's death" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry ran a hand through his hair, pulling it from its ponytail. 

"How did she-" Harry started, and Mr. Clarks eyes flashed angrily. 

"The Ministry claimed that she miscalculated her arithmancy, but Pandora had a talent for altering spells, so I find that hard to believe. Also, I find it suspicious that most of her research was missing when I went to secure the property," Mr. Clark gave a truly ruthless smile "I'm sure the thieves were disappointed when they found themselves unable to read her notes."

"She coded her notes?" Harry asked, his lips twisting into a small smile. 

"Pandora spoke the Seelie Tongue, the first in her Family in many generations, and the Ministry was scared of her potential. The closer a language is to pure magic, the harder it is to learn, and the more powerful it is. Pandora could tell a sapling to grow, and have a fully matured oak tree within minutes" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry hummed thoughtfully, wondering if Parseltongue could be written. 

Without Harry realizing it, he started tracing shapes on the table, and became entranced as his fingers began to spark gold. 

"Is the Seelie Tongue hereditary, like Parseltongue?" Harry asked, a little wary of bringing up his... Gift. 

Though how sure was he that the Gift really came from Voldemort? After all, it was only on Dumbledore's word that Harry had believed that, and his mothers journal had explained that Gifts were tied to Family Magic. 

Could they even be given?

"No, more people have learnt to speak the Seelie Tongue than those who have the Gift, even still, it takes years of practice. However, Parseltongue cannot be learnt, only descendants of the Naga can speak it" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry fiddled with his fingers anxiously. 

"Could my mom speak it?" Harry asked, and Mr. Clark's eyes widened in surprise. 

"I'm... Not certain. Your mother was afraid of snakes, I can't imagine her ever talking to one. However, Rosemarie's mother was a Selwyn, whose Family did have the Gift, but its been centuries since it Manifested"  Mr. Clark pondered, and Harry felt something unclench in his stomach. 

Its possible Voldemort didn't give it to him, but maybe he woke the Gift when he failed to kill Harry? Gifts rarely Manifested that far from the original Bloodline, but it could have been dormant.

"And the flat in London?" Harry said, deciding to table that line of thought for later. 

"Ah, yes, 'Lily's Pad' was her first place, she bought it after graduating Hogwarts, and lived there until she married your father" Mr. Clark explained, and Harry exhaled slowly. 

"How did she manage all this? She died when she was 21, most Family's don't have this much after generations" Harry rubbed his face, feeling the weight of her legacy settle on his shoulders. 

"Your mother was unlike anyone I've ever met" Mr. Clark shrugged, and Harry put his elbows on the table, his face in his hands. 

"I don't know how to deal with this, I've got so much going on. Voldemort wants to kill me, the Ministry wants to control me, Dumbledore wants... I don't even know. I'm a slightly above average student, I don't know anything about fighting a war or managing a Family" Harry groaned, the weight of everything on his shoulders nearly crushing him. 

Mr. Clark placed a hand on his shoulders, and Harry bit back tears as he looked up at the kind faced man. 

"Harry, your not alone. I don't know much about flighting a war, but I will help you in any way I can" Mr. Clark rubbed his shoulder, and Harry's eyes burned with emotion. 

"I don't know where to start" Harry admitted, the fear he'd done his best to ignore burning a hole in his chest. 

Harry had come here to get stronger, but he had no idea where to start. 

"I think I know someone who might be able to help you, but if I'm going to help turn you into some sort of warrior, there will be conditions" Mr. Clark said, his eyes serious, and Harry felt some of the weight lift off of him.

"Tell me" Harry tried not to sound like he was begging, and probably failed. 

"Let me call my son, Jordan" Mr. Clark said, getting up from the table and walking away with his cell phone. 

His son?