Before going into Barclays, Harry got out his new wallet and made sure the initial deposit was there and that the ID he had duplicated from Vernon's wallet now matched his current appearance, instead of the one he originally intended to use. He doubted that Granger or the Weasleys had believed his denial about not being Harry Potter, given that Dumbledork had been with him. This particular glamour was probably far safer, at least for now. The face wasn't quite so memorable as the other had been. He was keeping the name though. It had been a spur of the moment thing that night when he gave it to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, but he liked it and in a way he felt the last year of his life had been comparable to that of the main character in the Count of Monte Cristo novel.
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#4 Privet Drive
Wiping her hands on a dishtowel Petunia went to the front door. She hoped that whoever it was at her door this wasn't going to take long, because she still had breakfast dishes to finish.
There were four people, two men and two women, at the door all of whom looked vaguely familiar. Three of them had bright red hair while the fourth had bushy brown hair.
Before she could say a word, the older red headed man introduced himself. "Hello Mrs. Dursley. I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Arthur Weasley."
The name helped Petunia place where she'd seen the man. It had been here a couple of years ago when one of his horrible children cast a spell on her precious Dudley. She was grateful that her husband and son were out of the house and a quick glance at the sitting room told her that Marge wasn't in there. She must have gone back up to her room, even though Petunia had told her that the boy was most likely going to be gone all day. Petunia was grateful for that, because the last thing Marge needed was another shock. That might kill her and that would upset Vernon. She was also grateful that her nephew wasn't going to force her to be polite to these people. He had made it quite clear that morning those freaks could drop straight into hell and he wouldn't have cared.
Petunia didn't invite them in. "What do you want?"
"May we speak with Harry please?" The bushy haired young woman asked.
"He's not here. He left a couple of hours ago and didn't say where he was going or when he would be back." Petunia told them then started to close the door.
The older red headed woman stepped forward and put her foot in the door to prevent it from closing and asked. "Aren't you the least bit concerned about where your nephew has gone or what he might be doing? I mean anything could happen to him."
Opening the door a little wider, Petunia glared at the woman "No. I haven't worried about what happens to that little freak for almost sixteen years and I'm not about to start now. Besides, from what I saw last night, a person would have to be an idiot to want to attack him. Now, if you are quite through wasting my time…"
"Can we come in and wait for Harry?" The red headed young man asked.
Just how stupid were these freaks? Petunia asked sharply, "Do you not understand English? I told you I don't know when he'll be back, nor do I care. Nor do I want your kind cluttering up my sitting room."
Petunia glared at the foot that was still in the doorway and added, "Now if you are quite through, I have things I need to do and you are keeping me from them."
The older woman reluctantly withdrew her foot, when she saw she would get nowhere with Petunia.
Petunia slammed it with a great deal of satisfaction and headed back to the kitchen. It felt so good to put them in their place and know they couldn't do anything about it.
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Harry took a bite out of his burger, before making another note in the multi-subject notebook he had purchased from a stationary store. He was recording all the thoughts and questions he had come up with during his time in Azkaban, trying to come up with a cohesive list of evidence before he spoke to a lawyer about his charges.
So far his day had been very successful. He now had a bank account that he would be adding to slowly over the next month or so, so it wouldn't attract the attention of the authorities, if he couldn't get regular transfers made by Gringotts over the next year. He debated for a moment whether or not to keep his accounts at Gringotts and just have them make regular transfers to the Barclays account, but decided he would have to wait to see what the Inheritance Ritual said he had before making up his mind about that.
He made a note in a different section of his notebook to see if Gringotts could recommend a lawyer who wasn't afraid of Dumbledore or the Ministry that he could speak to. He also added a note to ask them about how he could get access to his parent's will, since he had never seen it.
Once he had finished his lunch, Harry transfigured the suit he had been wearing into a pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt, before headed toward Tottenham Court Road. He spent a good portion of the afternoon wandering through the bookstores on Tottenham Court Road.
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