Accio Paintbrush

The journey back to Privet Drive was a masterclass in misdirection. While Hagrid chatted about Hogwarts, Quidditch, and the wizarding world at large, Harry was carefully constructing mental maps of everything he'd need to accomplish before September 1st. His previous life as Elias had taught him the value of detailed planning – every successful gallery exhibition had been the result of careful preparation and perfect timing.

"Seems a shame ter return yeh to those Muggles," Hagrid said as they sat in Paddington station, Harry clutching his ticket for the Hogwarts Express. "But Dumbledore says yeh've got ter stay there, at least till term starts."

"Dumbledore seems to make a lot of decisions about my life," Harry remarked carefully, keeping his tone neutral. When Hagrid's brow furrowed slightly, he quickly added, "He must be very wise, to be trusted with so much responsibility."

Hagrid brightened immediately. "That he is, Harry. Greatest wizard of our age, Dumbledore."

And yet, Harry thought, he left me with people who treated me like a unwanted pet for ten years. But he simply nodded, maintaining his mask of innocent acceptance.

After Hagrid departed, Harry spent the train ride back to Surrey examining his new possessions. Each item held possibilities he was only beginning to understand. The wand – holly and phoenix feather, brother to Voldemort's – hummed with potential in his pocket. His textbooks promised knowledge that his previous life couldn't have imagined. But it was the other items, the ones that weren't on any school list, that truly interested him.

He'd managed to slip away briefly while Hagrid was distracted in Flourish and Blotts, enough time to grab several additional books: Magical Theory: Advanced Concepts, The Art of Magical Creation, and most importantly, Understanding Wizard Space: A Technical Guide. The last one might help him better comprehend his Inventory ability, though he'd have to be careful about showing too much interest in such advanced magic.

Back in his room at Privet Drive, Harry began planning his solo expedition to Diagon Alley. The Dursleys, still terrified from their encounter with Hagrid, were keeping their distance. This suited him perfectly – they wouldn't notice if he disappeared for a day.

He pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and began sketching the layout of Diagon Alley from memory. His artist's eye had captured every detail: the twist of the cobblestone streets, the precise locations of each shop, the hidden alcoves and side alleys that most visitors probably overlooked. In his previous life, urban sketching had been one of his specialties – the ability to capture the essence of a place in quick, precise strokes.

Next to his map, he began making lists:

Priority Tasks:

Convert gold bars to wizarding currency (small amounts, multiple visits)

Establish separate vault at Gringotts under business name

Acquire expanded trunk with multiple compartments

Purchase comprehensive library beyond first-year material

Invest in quality magical art supplies

Obtain self-updating map of wizarding London

Research magical contracts and inheritance laws

His hand hovered over the last item. Something about his parents' death and his subsequent placement with the Dursleys felt off. Surely there had been a will? In his previous life, Elias had learned the hard way about the importance of proper legal documentation after a gallery dispute nearly cost him everything.

Harry reached into his Inventory – that mysterious space that felt like an extension of his soul – and withdrew one of his gold bars. In the dim light of his bedroom, it gleamed with possibility. He'd need to be careful about how he introduced this wealth into the wizarding economy. Too much at once would raise questions he couldn't answer.

He spent the next few hours practicing with his wand, trying simple spells from his textbooks. Each success sent a thrill through him that was both familiar and entirely new. It reminded him of his first art show, when he'd realized that he could create something that affected people, that changed how they saw the world.

Hedwig watched from her perch, her amber eyes following his movements. Harry had already sent her with a few test letters to herself, establishing how long it took for post to travel various distances. She was more than just a pet – she was his first real connection to the wizarding world, and she would be crucial for his plans.

As night fell, Harry began drafting a letter to Gringotts, carefully worded to inquire about their discretion services and business account options. He'd sign it with a pseudonym, of course – perhaps something that nodded to his unique situation. After several attempts, he settled on "E. J. Phoenix" – E for Elias, J for his father James, and Phoenix for his rebirth into this new life.

The next morning would be crucial. He'd mapped out the bus routes to London, calculated the earliest time he could reach the Leaky Cauldron, and planned his approach to avoid drawing attention. His smaller frame and oversized clothes actually worked in his favor – with a cap pulled low over his scar, he'd look like any other underprivileged kid on the London streets.

In his previous life, Elias had learned that timing was everything, whether in art or business. Strike too soon, and you risk exposure. Wait too long, and opportunities slip away. The month before Hogwarts would be his chance to establish foundations that could support whatever structure he needed to build later.

He pulled out Understanding Wizard Space and began reading, taking careful notes. If his Inventory ability was related to this branch of magic, understanding the theoretical framework might help him expand or modify it. The book was dense with complex arithmantic equations and references to magical theory that went well beyond first-year material, but Harry had always been good at seeing patterns, at understanding how pieces fit together to create a whole.

As midnight approached, Harry stood at his window, looking out at the quiet street of Privet Drive. Tomorrow would be the first brush stroke on a canvas that stretched far beyond Hogwarts or even Voldemort. He had knowledge from a past life, abilities that seemed to break the normal rules of magic, and most importantly, the patience to use both wisely.

Let Dumbledore play his long game. Let the wizarding world wait for their Boy Who Lived. Harry would paint his own destiny, one careful stroke at a time.