Account Manager Twistlip had done a fantastic job profiting from eleven years without a Potter looming over him, thus Harry found his parents' investments in sound condition. Italy housed an underground safehouse beneath the presidential suites, and they were in a damn dilapidated state with no elves to scrub the walls, so Harry commisioned several lumps of clay to do the housework, while he himself expanded the floors and enchanted the windows to display lush meadows endowed with the natural grace of thriving weeds. Another safehouse with portals to all of the Potter properties was low on meat, and the runes of the charmed freezers were close to breaking down. After fixing these problems, Harry visited the other properties and found them in fine condition. He connected the wards of all the safehouses and cottages to the Potter ring and locked down the wards of those that were not in use.
The silk robe advised him to consider a school in Aertonne, where the great sorcerer Desjardins had imparted his wisdom and coached the professors himself. By night Harry had passed the wards of the Will Wizard Inns Gathering of Forgers, and a student led him to the inner sanctum housing the professors. Mr. Silk Robe said that they were a cunning sly bunch when they were students, and age would have sharpened their wits, so he cautioned him to say as little as possible without prompting undue suspicion. The meeting with Mr. Forger went well, and in his outsider facade he reminded Harry of his father. The facilities were excellent and the training was the best you could get, but there was no spark in it, so Harry returned home and made up his mind to go to Hogwarts. The wand shop had an otherworldly presence resonating from a dark reddish brown wand, and when Harry closed the doors, the wand almost flew to his hand and hovered above his right palm. When he gripped the wand and gave it an experimental swish, a cascade of red apples sprouted from the tip and turned into apple juice midair. Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands and explained the properties of that wand.
In the wilds of Wales, there was a mythical magical forest, and an old wandcrafter had stumbled upon its site. A lump of Green Rock spanning the size of two football lay in its centre, and a chipped off piece provided the core of Harry's wand. The wood was from a nearby tree and was the first of its kind. It had the properties of a magical tree, but could not conduct the slightest bit of magic. It was the first time it had even generated a spark, and Harry felt that it was a treasure worth researching. Mr. Ollivander also mumbled some nonsense about paradoxes of trees and green rocks, then demanding 9 galleons retreated inside his quarters. Harry felt that he was hinting towards something, so he looked around the shop squinting in the dark reaches of the wooden racks. A lone wand stood out in the front rack. It was glowing in the tip and had a peculiar mesh of grizzled scales poking out in the middle. The shaft was a narrow beam of silver with red flecks swirling like in an endless vortex, and the handle was engraved with spidery letters...Repattor the Potter, the fiftieth ancestor directly above by grandparents. The script was in Parselrune, and shadows seemed to hover above the words. Harry extended his hand and lifted the wand upto his brow, bringing it down in a swift arc. Globes and globes of green tinged shields prevented his mind from interrupting the rush of memories entering his library, and they only dissisipated once his mind had absorbed the memories of previous Potter Lords. The wand was a battle wand and a Potter had unearthed it from the ruins of a dimensional explosion in his early days and engraved his name on its handle. The memories guided Harry towards a hidden trapdoor, and upon opening it, a small ritual circle came into view. When Harry had settled down inside the circle, runes of blood and ancient powers worked in a rythm of an elfin song and started to lull Harry into sleep.
When he woke up, he felt an eerie feeling bypassing his mind's defenses. It was a probe in the form of his mother. It informed him of the blocks that had been put in his memories, core and magical gifts. Now that he had his power restored to its former level, he morphed into a respectable businessman and his silk robes turned into a muggle suit.
Muggle London provided a peaceful haven for Harry to burn up some of his insane ideas, and by nightfall he had returned to Potter Manor.
September First dawned a bright sunny day, and Harry got ready for the train journey to Hogwarts. When he reached the muggle platform (he had morphed into a muggle father carrying a gleaming briefcase), he saw a plethora of red hair bouncing around near the barrier. He observed that the family was milling in the crowd and mentioning magical spots and saying that the muggles had such fascinating elektry toasters. They were obviously searching for Harry to exploit his fame and earn his favour early on, so Harry tranfigured a cat with green eyes into a thin short boy wearing hand me downs, and shoved him a trolley loaded with a trunk and an owl cage, then possesed the mind of the cat and moved towards the redheads.
He wheeled his trolley here and there, and was glancing panic filled eyes to his right and left when he heard the matriarch mention platform nine and three quarters. He ran upto them and rapidly started firing questions. The mother stuttered for a second, then led him beside the barrier and told the elder prefect to give a hands on show of strutting to the portal. When they reached the magical platform, the twins helped him lift the trunk into the overhead rack, then left saying that their friend Lee had acquired an acromantula which he had brought aboard the train. Harry sat down on the seat and pretended to sleep when then compartment door swung open.
(PARA BREAK) SAME AS CANON
When they were nearing Hogwarts, Harry withdrew his magic from the cat (Ron gaped at the fact that Harry was an Animagus) and apparated to Hogsmead station disillusioned.
When his name was called, Harry acted his part as a bewildered eleven year old, and nervously sat down upon the rickety stool. When the hat was put on his head, he felt an ancient weight settling down upon his soul, and the hat conversed with him for a few minutes before declaring him a Ravenclaw. The food was excellent and aplenty, and Headmaster Dumbledore opened his arms wide and welcomed the students to a new year of promising education and fun. He conveniently forgot to mention the dangers in opening the Cerberus door located in the third floor corridor, and immediately sat down.
Ravenclaw prefects lead Harry and his classmates to the library, then showed them their common room and dorms. Sea blue curtains waved down upon the first years as rusted bronze chandeliers creaked and freaked the muggleborns, while the 'poor-bloods' fiddled with their second hand robes grumbling under their noses about lying fathers and crooked goblins. The Daily Prophet had pondered upon the identity of the would-be-thief for a week before the headlines started filling with speculation about the Boy Who Lived. Harry had been maintaining a Notice-me-not charm on his face for the whole day, so the faculty had not given him a second glance.
The next day, Harry was handed his class schedule, and since there were no classes scheduled for the day, he spent his time expanding his magical senses. The Headmaster's office was giving him a fair amount of magical resonation, so he asked the castle (he was descended from the founders) to lead him there.It was a circular chamber highlighted with bare white paint with a bookcase and oak desk facing the window which looked