Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

His smile couldn't be dislodged as he grabbed his new bag, the wad of muggle cash, and his invisibility cloak. Briefly, he remembered the warnings about not venturing into the muggle world, and a pang of guilt surfaced. But he pushed it away. Unlike most wizards, he was perfectly comfortable navigating the muggle world. And he was long, long overdue some time there.

.-.-.-.

It was almost insultingly easy to sneak out into muggle London using his invisibility cloak, ducking into a public toilet to take the cloak off and stuff it in his new bag. From there he walked to the nearest tube station, his heart thudding with adrenaline at his blatant breaking of rules, and bought a travel card for the day. He glanced at the tube map, checking his journey, and stepped confidently through the barriers to join the flow of people going about their day. No one looked twice at him. No one did a double-take at his forehead, or whispered about him from several feet away, or did any of the other things he'd gotten used to in the wizarding world. It was refreshing, to say the least.

When Harry was next above ground, it was to step right into the hustle and bustle of Oxford Street. It was all a little overwhelming, and he took a deep breath to calm himself, remembering his plan. This was likely the only chance he'd get to do this — he had to make it count.

Harry looked up at all the shops, bearing names he recognised from the Dursleys' clothing, and he smiled. He could do this.

.-.-. Four hours later found Harry sat outside a cafe in Covent Garden, drinking a chocolate milkshake, not a trace of his earlier anxiety in his body.

It turned out, he liked shopping. Once he got the hang of it, of course.

Figuring out what sort of clothes he wanted to wear — given entirely free rein, no restrictions, no outside influence had taken him a little time, but once he started to find things that made him happy, he was off. In London, no one questioned a thirteen year-old boy by himself with seemingly endless amounts of cash. No one questioned anything in London.

He was down to his last thirty pounds, which surprised him; he hadn't expected to get quite so carried away. But he couldn't help himself once he started. Years of living in hand-me-downs had him yearning for a full wardrobe of his own choosing, his own style. He knew he'd grow out of it all sooner rather than later — if he ever actually got around to having that growth spurt — but that's what spells were for. Besides, there was plenty more money in his vault.

If he didn't get back to the Leaky Cauldron soon, Tom would start wondering where he was, so Harry finished off his milkshake, shouldered his bag and set off back to the tube station. He made a mental note to give Farlig some kind of present or reward for the tip about the bag; he dreaded to think what it would be like trying to sneak back into the Leaky purchases the muggle way.

carrying

his

Thanks to his invisibility cloak, Harry easily made it back up to his room with none the wiser, and there he emptied all his purchases onto the bed, staring round-eyed at his new clothes. His gaze shifted to his school trunk, which was already messy and overflowing from over a week of living out of it. Sighing to himself, Harry ran a hand through his hair. He'd better tidy up, then.

As tempting as it was to have a ceremonial burning of all things Dursley in the fireplace of his room, Harry knew he'd have to keep up appearances if he didn't want anyone — namely Dumbledore — getting suspicious. Still, he was unable to help himself from burning the most offensive items of clothing. Some of Dudley's old things sort-of fit, and they weren't that bad, so Harry kept them. Hopefully if he gradually mixed in his new clothes, no one would notice the difference. He hadn't bought anything enormously flashy, anyway.

With all his new clothes folded up and piled with the older ones he was keeping, Harry looked at the stack on the bed. For the first time in his life, he might actually struggle to fit all his possessions in his school trunk. The thought made him smile.

Perhaps Twilfitt and bottomless trunks, too.

Tattings

did .-.-.-.-.

It turned out, Farlig didn't need a present — all he wanted was for Harry to get his family money moving once again.

While the Potter and Black accounts had ongoing investments made by previous heads of the family, the Peverell and Slytherin vaults had been stagnant for decades. Between the four houses, Harry's Gringotts portfolio was several inches thick; and Farlig was determined to make it thicker, once Harry made him account manager.

If he'd known what would follow, he might have reconsidered that. With the lure of getting to learn what artefacts and interesting objects lay within his possession, Farlig had beckoned him into his office and immediately sat the young wizard down in front of an enormous stack of parchment.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Harry declared warily. Farlig's returning grin showed all of his teeth.

"The top parchment lists all the current investments and regular transactions within your holdings," Farlig explained. "While prolific, it would do you well to invest more of your money in a wider range of businesses. I've included a list of the current businesses our investigations show will make good investments; including a few in the muggle world, if you aren't opposed." Harry glanced down at the list, grimacing at some of the dark-sounding investments under the Black family name. Yes, it was going to be gruelling, but it would be worth it.

As the Gryffindor got to work, scrawling numbers and rifling through Farlig's list of suggested investments, the goblin watched with something akin to pride.

Young Harry Potter might be off to a late start, but if he carried on with this determination, he'd take the pureblood wizarding circles by storm and give them a much-needed shake-up.

And if he could make as much money as his accounts projected, Farlig's wife would be very happy indeed with his new position. After all, he now worked on commission.

.-.-.-.

About done with adventures for the summer, Harry decided to spend the rest of his time in Diagon Alley actually behaving — somewhat. He made no more jaunts into muggle London, but he did make a few more reckless purchases, taking advantage of having no one around to question his spending habits. A new trunk with more space than the old one, even more books, and a small

Wizarding Wireless so he could listen to quidditch matches sometimes.