The Economic Power He Knows Not: Year Two

(AN: I've had a couple of people mention in my last story that Harry was acting like a Malfoy. He's 11, that's how they are! Another person wrote that Harry's attitude towards McGonagall regarding being given all information would be better if he were 15 instead of 11. I don't know about you but 11 year olds are pretty annoying and demanding when it comes to information. Besides, I wonder how many of you all read the first two lines of my AN before the story started. THIS IS THE BEAUTY OF FAN FICTION. WE MAKE IT UP AS WE GO ALONG! I also have decided that Harry's scar will NOT be a Horcrux! For me, it's just a bad usage of a plot device.)

Saturday 27 June, 1992 Dursley Residence

Harry awoke bright and early eager to begin the new day. Today was the day that he wanted to demonstrate some of the things he had learned at Hogwarts to his relatives. He knew that he wouldn't be able to show them the wand-required magic but there were other subjects that should be okay. He also wanted to give his aunt the vase he had made with the Light Reactive Color Changing glaze.

After finishing his morning routine, he bounded downstairs in a barely contained semblance of energy. Entering the kitchen, he found his uncle already up and drinking his morning cup of coffee while reading the paper. Aunt Petunia was busy puttering around in the kitchen making breakfast.

"Harry," Vernon said, "I've already read the financial section if you want to go through it. Gold prices are down a bit but nothing to worry about, in my opinion."

Harry thanked his uncle and picked up the discarded section. He sat down, poured himself a cup of coffee as well and began to read. He noted that the gold prices were indeed a bit lower and began to take a look at what was available in terms of stocks and bonds. He began making a list to investigate later.

After breakfast, Harry found his aunt and uncle in the living room and asked them if they would like to see some of the things he had learned over the course of the last school year. He cautioned them that he wouldn't be able to use his wand but there were other classes that shouldn't trip any alarms. His uncle asked about that and Harry explained that his head of house informed them that the magical ministry had a network in place to determine if magic was used or performed around the non-magical community. He commented that if a student were to be caught they could be censored or fined depending on the severity of the misdeed.

Petunia was hesitant as she remembered her hope and curiosity that turned into envy and jealousy when her sister went to that school and had then come home every holiday and continued to demonstrate the differences that would always separate them. Vernon, on the other hand, was a bit curious. He had learned that Harry didn't display what he would call "the usual freakishness." The lights, smoke and bangs he normally associated with wizards just didn't apply to the boy as Harry seemed more of the down-to-earth, quiet sort who just went about his business and got the job done.

Harry went racing back upstairs to his room and dragged his trunk back down to the living room. He opened it up and pulled out a large box then placed it at his aunt's feet.

"I-I made this for you Aunt Petunia." He stammered nervously, lightly biting his lip, "I hope you like it."

Petunia opened the box and gasped in surprise. She reached in and pulled out a beautiful vase sculpted in a style reminiscent of the later Greek period. It stood about 14 inches tall and at about 9 inches at its widest diameter. It had 3 tiny feet shaped like elephants holding the vase on their backs. The moment the box was opened the change in light set off the potion glaze and the surface began swirling and pulsing in a slow, almost sensuous dance of colors. Petunia put the vase up on the coffee table so she and Vernon could watch mesmerized by the activity. She tore her gaze away from the vase and looked at her nephew.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, "It's gorgeous. H-How did you do it? The changing colors I mean…"

"There's a potion recipe in an advanced textbook I found in the school's library that I made into a glaze and painted onto the vase. It will continue to shift colors and patterns as the glaze reacts to the shifting light and shadows in whatever room it is in."

Needless to say, the two adults were totally amazed and impressed by the gift and its abilities. Harry turned to his uncle and asked him if he would like to use a similar potion that would give him the ability to have two different hair and skin colors based on whether or not he was indoors or out.

"Eh…I don't think so, Harry," Vernon began, "I don't want to walk around in public looking like that vase."

Harry smiled, "I can change the potion so that there are only two different colors. Imagine going outside and having the blonde hair and sun-kissed tan skin that most people would kill for yet when inside your hair changes to a darker "I am a powerful person, respect or fear me" brown or black. Your skin would stay the same inside…well, maybe I would get it to lighten a couple of shades."

Vernon's eyes widened at the possibilities upon hearing that. He gave a small smirk and said that he would think about it. He then asked what else Harry had to show them.

Harry showed off his textbooks and schoolwork papers. He showed them the photographs that were taken of Potter's Place and described the rituals that were used to consecrate the building and land. He talked about some of the projects that he made and who they were destined for. He talked about some of the people and about Hermione. Petunia smiled at Harry's description of this girl that apparently captivated his mind and inspired his soul.

Tuesday 30 June, 1992 Dursley Residence

Vernon took a deep breath and stepped outside of his house in preparation to go to work. He looked down at his hands and arms so he could see the changes that color changing potion his nephew had made. He marveled that his skin showed a brilliance that could only be matched by a nice long vacation in the tropics. As he drove to work, he would occasionally shake his head in marveled amusement at the changes that had come over himself and his nephew.

Meanwhile, Harry and his aunt and cousin went to the supermarket to pick up some things for the household and for that night's dinner. Harry had captivated his cousin by describing some of the feasts that were held at the school. Dudley whined at his mother that he wanted to have the same thing. Petunia just gave Harry an annoyed glare briefly before telling her son that she just couldn't do some of the things that Harry described.

"Harry," she asked, "there must be other things you two can discuss that doesn't involve food?"

"Well…Dudley, would you like to hear about some of the creatures that can be found in and around the castle? There are elves that are as tall as my waist, centaurs who resemble a half human, half horse creature. There are tiny creatures known as fairies that reside in trees and bushes. They look like little pinpricks of light."

Dudley was fascinated and began asking Harry to describe and comment on all the supposedly mythical creatures that he had read, heard about, or saw on the television. Petunia was glad that the two were getting along better than they had before Harry went to that school. Strangely enough, now that she thought about it, she and Vernon didn't have the usual animosity and resentment that had been apparent before that Letter had shown up last year.

Saturday 25 July, 1992 Harry's Bedroom, Dursley Residence

Harry was lying in bed reading his latest issue of Magical Crafts and Art, a magazine he had found in Flourish & Blott's that covered all things artsy. He was reading an article that discussed the differences in technique and appearance between traditional wood-fired kilns, dragon-fire kilns and non-magical electrical kilns. Dudley had tried reading it but his eyes crossed and glazed over within thirty seconds upon reading the article. Harry had laughed and shooed him from his room. He could hear his aunt puttering around down in the kitchen, no doubt trying out some of the First Year Potions that she had read in his textbook.

Lying on the table next to him was an Account Statement from the Bank of London. Ever since he had returned home, Harry and his uncle restarted the gold exchange scheme. Going back and forth over the course of nearly two months on random days, the two of them had netted over £68,933,535.93. Vernon's five percent cut of the earned value of the gold netted him £3,446,676.80. The Dursleys had finally reached the reality of what they had always pretended to be before, rich.

The money to Harry, however, was just a means to an end. The amount really didn't mean much to him at this point. To him, it was just an impossibly large number. At nearly twelve, he didn't have a true concept of the amount of potential power he had. He used some of the money to buy a small shed and a nice electric kiln and a generator to experiment with new designs over the summer. He got the generator, as he didn't want to run up his relative's power bills unnecessarily. He also had a brief letter from his lawyers stating that they had discovered that his parents did indeed have a Will written and filed with the Goblins and the Ministry. Mr. Tonks said that he was working on getting it opened and executed but they were running into a few legal snags. He mentioned that there might be a point in time before Harry returned to school that he would have to go in and clear things with the Goblins to get the Will opened. Harry was curious as to what might be contained within but knew that some things just took time to work out.

Just then, there was a sharp crack of a sound in front of him. Harry leapt out of bed; his magazine went flying as he took in the pitiful sight of the miserable-looking yet hyper creature that stood before him. It appeared to be one of the castle elves but he couldn't remember any of them looking this bad. Had something happened up at the castle?

"H-Hello… Who...who are you?" Harry stammered.

"I is Dobby, sir. Dobby the house elf. Youse is the Great Master Harry Potter!" the elf joyously replied.

"Mm-hmm, about that Dobby. I am not a "Great Master." I'm merely just a boy. Now if you had said "Great Artist" then I'd agree with you." Harry grinned but then sobered, "Why are you here and looking like that? Has something happened to the castle?"

Dobby replied, "Oh, no sir. Dobby does not work for Hogwarts. Dobby has a family…"

Dobby looked saddened at that last bit. His ears drooped a bit and nearly whispered it as though ashamed.

Harry knelt down to Dobby's level and asked him to tell Harry about what Dobby had come to say to him. Dobby's excitement level skyrocketed again and he began to weep that the 'Great Artist Harry Potter' would deign to lower himself to the eye level of a lowly house elf. Harry slowly shook his head in exasperation.

"Dobby? Dobby… Dobby! Why have you come to me? If you already have a family, then what is it that you need from me?"

"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter that he must not go back to Hogwarts. It will be too dangerous for Harry Potter to go there this year."

Harry got a puzzled look on his face. Dobby's statement made no sense. Aside from Dumbledore's continued interference and general creepiness, there weren't any problems that had come up during last year that could warrant such a request from this little creature.

"Could you explain why I shouldn't go back this year? I mean, aside from Dumbledore being a royal pain in the butt last year, I can't think of a reason not to go back."

Dobby shook his head, his ears flapping noisily, "No, Harry Potter sir. Dobby cannot say why. Master has forbidden Dobby to speak of it with others."

"Dobby, who is your master? Maybe I could speak with him and try to understand the plot against me?"

Dobby shook his head again, "Dobby was also forbidden to tell anyone who Dobby's Master is."

Harry leaned back against the bed and thought for a moment. Brightening, he glanced at the elf and asked if Dobby could describe his master. Dobby gave Harry a sly smile and said,

"Dobby's Master is an older gentleman with pale yellow hair and likes to sneer a lot. Master's son resembles Master and goes to Hogwarts as well."

Harry thought for a moment then laughed a bit in recognition. Dobby's Master sounded a lot like the Malfoys.

"Well Dobby, I can't promise you anything but I will take your warning into consideration. I still have over a month and a half before I need to be on the train. Things can happen between now and then. Is that okay for you?"

Dobby thought about it and reluctantly agreed to wait until September.