To Live is the Rarest Thing

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

For a hot second Harry was tempted to approach Moody and Jones and offer his services to the Order of the Phoenix to help them search for poor little lost Harry Potter, if only because it would be hilarious to see them all running around in a panic looking for him while Dumbledore had to explain away things like the fact there were no pictures of Harry or why he’d slept in a cupboard. Harry assumed the Ministry had thoroughly searched the Dursleys’ house by now and found out about that dirty little secret.

But no, as fucking funny as it would be to see those events unfold first-hand, Harry knew his priorities were getting his soulmate back, not antagonize Dumbledore and his order of the headless fried chicken.

Inside Gringotts, Harry exchanged his newly acquired muggle pounds into more Galleons and then asked to open an account.

“Follow Clawhammer,” the goblin behind the counter grumbled, barely taking notice of Harry as he waved him to the side.

Harry followed a short, stocky goblin to the private meeting rooms in the back, and he was almost sure this goblin was a female, but honestly, it was very difficult to tell without literally undressing them and checking what sat between their legs. And only a person with a death wish would try such a thing with any goblin.

“Name?” Clawhammer asked once they were seated around an ornate desk.

“Jack Bird,” Harry said with practiced ease while adding just the slightest bit of American twang to his accent. It had been his real name in life number 2 and since then it was an alias Harry used whenever he needed an alias. It was short, easy to remember yet easy to forget, it had been Harry’s actual name so he naturally responded to it, and most importantly, it had no association at all with Harry Potter for anyone save for Harry and Tom. While taking a shower early that morning Harry had come up with a simple background for his adult persona.

Jack Bird had a British muggle mother and an American muggleborn father. His parents were too poor to send him to either Hogwarts or Ilvermorny so Jack had been home-schooled and thanks to piles of cheap, second-hand books, he’d been mostly self-taught. He was a talented, powerful wizard who was able to teach himself pretty much anything. After his parents had died in a car crash in the States, Jack had decided to settle in Britain to get to know his mother’s country of origin since he’d spent most of his younger years in the States.

It gave Harry a plausible background that was difficult to check in detail. And Harry didn’t plan on drawing much attention to himself other than establishing an identity so he could move money around and receive mail and other simple things like that.

“What sort of protections do you want?” Clawhammer asked him as she scribbled on a piece of parchment. “Key, blood or dragon? Or all of the above?”

“Key and blood will do,” Harry said with a polite smile. Having a vault guarded by their dragon was bloody expensive and overkill for simply guarding some gold. But only a fool would use only the key protection. That meant that anyone with your key could enter your vault without verification of their identity. And Harry wasn’t a fool.

“Three drops on the key.” Clawhammer slid a small golden key towards him, and Harry pricked the tip of his finger with a silent spell and squeezed three drops of blood onto the key. It glowed and Clawhammer gave a satisfied nod. “That is your key, verified to your blood and magic. Don’t lose it since it will cost twenty Galleons to replace it.”