Well, 'simple enough' might have been a slight exaggeration. Accumulating enough money to buy a house and, more importantly, privacy was going to take more than picking pockets in Diagon Alley.

Before Harry even started planning on how to lay his hands on enormous piles of money, however, he changed where he was staying. He changed his appearance, too, and for a time decided to change his name. Harry thought this was probably paranoid of him, but he wanted interest in 'Ethan Meadowes' to die completely down. Two Aurors knowing his name and appearance was two Aurors too many.

Also, his more complete disguise would shield him from any connections that might be made to James Potter. He was now blonde, with regular length hair again, and his skin was paler with some freckles dusting his face. His nose was shorter and his chin was longer and his eyes were brown. He used stronger charms this time, spells that were much more complex and took longer to cast, and drank a potion each day that masked any indication he was using glamours at all. An Auror could cast a Revealing charm on him and they would never detect that his appearance was anything but authentic. He had considered Polyjuice potion, but it was expensive and it also meant that he was taking someone else's appearance. Having two people who looked exactly the same running around was bound to start questions.

The only thing he couldn't change was his scar. It stayed there stubbornly no matter how many glamours he tried to put over it. The only thing that worked was Muggle makeup, which he had bought (feeling slightly embarrassed) from a Muggle drugstore earlier.

He was now living near a different wizarding community with the temporary name Johnathon Cellwick. The town was small and out of the way, but it attracted enough magical tourists that Harry didn't stick out by living there. Currently, he was renting a small apartment from a witch named Bethany with the remains of his fifty galleons.

It was after a few days had passed and Harry had become more comfortable with his new routine that he began seriously thinking about where to get money. The Potter vault was off-limits, for obvious reasons, and getting a real job posed problems as well. If he got a job it would take a lot of time to accumulate money, and the more time he spent in England the more time he would become entangled in its politics and the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort. Also, doing an honest day's work was something that had never come naturally to Harry.

So. Large, stagnant piles of money floating around the British wizarding scene… Money that he could charm or steal away from its owners…. Who had lots of money and were conceited or foolish enough to be parted with it?

The answer came to him almost instantly. Purebloods.

He had to be careful, though. He couldn't steal from a family that was in too deep with Voldemort for fear of attracting his attention. It was also best to avoid stealing from the more powerful or well-known Pureblood families because they would have trickier defenses around their properties. In addition, they probably had the resources to try and track down any thieves that were successful.

As much as possible, Harry tried not to make enemies of important people (obviously this didn't work out very well in his old world, what with the prophecy and Voldemort and all). It just made life that much more stressful.

To find the perfect candidate to be the financer of his new life, so to speak, Harry needed to be up to speed on this new world. Fresh information—he had already learned the basics from scouring several bookstores.

What he needed was a restaurant or store with a fair amount of human traffic, preferably a little shady, that was a hotspot of gossip.

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He found an ideal cesspool of human existence near the edge of London. It was a wizarding pub called The Tipsy Dragon, and it was the kind of place where he could sit at the bar and absorb conversations around him without looking suspicious.

It was here that he learned that Voldemort hadn't gone for a full military coup yet, and instead was still working from the shadows, building up his power base. Raids were becoming more frequent, however. Disappearances were common, too, and the issue of muggleborns was becoming more and more of a divisive topic.

The usual suspects appeared to be powering the Voldemort campaign: the Malfoys (who were clearly corrupt, but people liked to pretend otherwise), Bellatrix Lestrange (still as crazy as ever), the Notts, the Crabbes, the Goyles, Macnair, the Carrows, Rookwood, Dolohov, Yaxley, Runcorn, and a few others he recognized. He was surprised to learn that both Barty Crouch Sr. and Barty Crouch Jr. held positions at the Ministry of Magic. Rumors of sketchy legislation whose creation was assisted by Crouch Jr. left Harry in no doubt that the junior Crouch was a Death Eater. This was not as shocking, as in his old world Crouch Jr. had been revealed to be Death Eater in Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts after he had murdered Crouch Sr., a prominent government official.

On the other side of the conflict, Dumbledore, as expected, was leading the opposition. The Order of the Phoenix was the subject of much of the gossip, and if the rumors were anything to go by, they too were becoming more active. Sirius Black was still alive in this world—Harry felt a twinge of happiness mixed with guilt at this news—and so was Remus Lupin. Diggle, Jones, Shacklebolt, and Tonks all emerged as likely Order members, as well as his own parents, of course.

Harry used this information to determine who to avoid, and then slowly began poking around about lesser Pureblood families.

After a couple of weeks, he had the perfect target.

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During this time, in a dilapidated apartment in wizarding London, a small group of witches and wizards assembled for a meeting. Black seemed to be the unspoken dress code. An outside observer who stumbled upon the scene might have guessed that hierarchy in this group was determined by the poorness of one's hair hygiene.

If this theory was applied, then the wizard who spoke next was the clear leader of the assemblage. The greasiness of his long black hair catapulted him miles ahead of the competition. "This meeting has been convened at the request of the Dark Lord," he said. "We are all… information gatherers of a certain, ah, level, and the Lord has asked that we compare notes to gain a full understanding of the situation."

"Don't think you can get all high and mighty on us, Snape. Takin' charge of the meeting like this…. Just because you're chummy with the Order doesn't make you any more special," cut in a man with a bulbous nose and large black earring.

Snape sneered in a way that indicated he rarely got 'chummy' with anybody and then said silkily, "It might not make me any more special, Rosier, but it does give me the Dark Lord's favor. Something that you currently lack."

Rosier scowled but said nothing.

Snape smiled viciously. "As I was saying… Any reports on significant events are to be presented, and I will relay back to the Dark Lord."

There was a shuffling and an adjusting of robes throughout the group, and then a swarthy witch finally stepped forward. "I guess I'll go first. I've been keeping tabs on various magical creatures that might be persuaded to join the Dark Lord's cause… Giants, centaurs, werewolves, to name some."

"I'll bet you fit right in," muttered a wizard.

"Not as well as you would," she replied coolly. "You know, I could ask Greyback to get you a spot in his pack if you want one that badly." There was silence. "Thought not. Anyways, it appears that the centaurs are determined to stay neutral, although the centaur population is so low in Britain that this is hardly a huge loss to our Lord. The goblins' allegiance follows money, and the Dark Lord has a plenty of that. However, while the goblins may favor one side over another I wouldn't bet too much on them openly picking sides. They're too clever to be caught in a conflict between wizards.

"The werewolves are under the firm control of Fenrir Greyback, who is in turn under the thumb of the Dark Lord. They should be steady allies. As for other groups, I have an agent up in the mountains of Northern Europe investigating the giant situation. The dementors continue to guard Azkaban, but one of my informants at the Ministry says they're becoming… restless."

The witch turned to Snape. "That's all I have, at the moment."

Snape inclined his head. "I will let the Lord know of your diligence." He looked around. "Any others? Come now, you wouldn't want the Dark Lord to think he has lazy spies, would you?"

This seemed to spur more of a response. A man less shabbily dressed than his companions began speaking loudly over the voices of others. "I've been looking into the prominent families of wizarding society. Most of the oldest Pureblood families, with the exceptions of a few such as Potter, Longbottom, and Bones, are already staunch supporters of the Dark Lord, and monitoring them would be pointless. However, a few older families are still clinging to neutrality. Bringing them over to our side could bring in vital sources of revenue. I suggest sending… envoys to help persuade them."

"Greyback might be useful in this capacity," said the witch, smiling nastily.

The wizard nodded. "Perhaps. A few less powerful families should also be considered for this, ah, persuasion. There are plenty of families whose ancestries don't stretch as far back but are still rich and influential in their own right."

"The Order has also been looking for wealthy families to recruit—or at least nab before they can be drawn over to the Lord," ruminated Snape. "Dumbledore has mentioned offering protection to these lesser families in exchange for them not conceding to Voldemort's demands. Actually, Dumbledore was talking of sending messengers to the Belmett, Casdale, and Greengrass families in the near future."

"It is imperative, then, that the Dark Lord intercepts these Order members before the support of these lesser families is lost forever. Starting with these three is a good place to start—the more families are on the Lord's side, the less other families will resist," said the wizard firmly.

Snape stared thoughtfully at the man from behind his hooked nose. "I concur. Dumbledore was sending an emissary to the Casdale family next week—I believe Tuesday. I will recommend to the Lord that he set up an ambush."

The wizard shrugged and smiled, revealing yellow teeth. "I know the Lord values blood purity above all else, as do I and I'm sure all of you. But money is money, and it can very easily throw the war in our favor."

Snape acknowledged this and then turned to look at the others, signaling that he wanted to move on to the next topic of discussion.

"I'm checkin' out the scene in wizarding London. Mos'ly Knockturn Alley and areas with more, eh, enterprising entrepreneurs, if ya catch my drift," began a lean man hurriedly. "Mos'ly jus' tensions rising, more fights and the like, and the market's been flooded with more so-called 'protective charms' than an overflowin' toilet. Cheap gimmicks to sell ta the common witch o' wizard who fear the times a'comin."

He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Not that much ta tell, to be honest, 'cept one interesting thing. Hector down in Knockturn Alley was sold an el'mental sphere."

This caused quite a stir. "Was it sold by a defecting Death Eater?" asked Snape, brow furrowing.

"Nope," said the skinny wizard. "Wasn't a Death Eater a'tall, an' Hector didn't recognize him. Hector reckons 'e didn't even know what it was." He shook his head. "Crazy, huh? How're you never hearing 'bout the spheres, though?"

Elemental spheres were alchemical globes designed and manufactured exclusively by the Dark Lord. They required a simple charm to break, and once broken they had incredible destructive power. One globe could wipe out a whole street, or more, and Voldemort had been terrorizing the wizarding populace by detonating them in crowded areas. Every sphere attack made the front page of the Daily Prophet for days, and the increasing number of these attacks had regular witches and wizards afraid to venture outside of their homes. So far, the Ministry had been unable to lay their hands on a sphere and the secret behind their power remained mysterious.

A second witch, rounder but if possible meaner-looking, said, "You know, Dolohov's mission was supposed to have been detonating a sphere in Diagon Alley, but he was apprehended by Aurors. Well, collected by the Aurors. He was already unconscious by the time they got there. My contacts at the Ministry said they never found a sphere on him. Is it possible Dolohov sold it to someone before he was caught?"

"Not possible," said Snape. "The reason Dolohov was caught was because he tried to detonate it but was unable to find it when the time came."

"Hmm," said the witch. "Then it was taken from him. Stolen, most likely. The person who stole it is probably the person who sold it to Hector."

The lean wizard looked doubtful. "Stealing an el'mental sphere is stupid 'nough, but sellin' it? But I s'pose," he continued, "if tha guy didn't know what it was, 'ed have no reason not ta sell it. Didn't know how traceable these things are."

"A vigilante?" proposed Snape. "But no, if he stole it just to prevent the explosion he wouldn't have sold it. In any case, this is worth looking into. The person was clearly powerful enough to take down Dolohov without much effort, and the disregard for the sphere is curious. The thief must have been in Diagon Alley around the same time as Dolohov. Poke around, Ghast," he said, indicating the lean wizard, "and see if you can find someone who matches the description of the man who sold Hector the sphere."

"Right," said Ghast. "I'll see what'a can do. Hector said the seller was tall, long black 'air, glasses, an' with a strange scar on 'is forehead."

Ghast finished his report and Snape motioned for the next informant to begin.

"I have a network of spies in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and they have some very interesting things to say about Barty Crouch Sr…."

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Harry drifted about for those couple weeks, mostly staying at the Tipsy Dragon and dispensing sickles and galleons judiciously when he thought it might loosen tongues. His fifty galleons was more than enough to cover this, as well as pay for food and rent.

He saw a few familiar faces at the Dragon, including Stan Shunpike and Terry Boot. Mundungus Fletcher was a regular, and Harry slowly ingratiated himself with Dung. They had been business partners on more than one occasion in his old world.

"Heya, Johhny," said Dung as Harry entered the Dragon one evening. "How about a drink?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna pay?"

"Sure," said Dung. "I recently came into some money. Free drinks on me tonight for everyone to celebrate."

"And when you say 'came into', you mean stole, don't you?" said Harry.

"That's not a very nice way to put it, but if you want to be particular about these things…"

After a while, Harry said, "So… Let's say I have a rich, Pureblood uncle. And he dies suddenly and leaves everything to me. Not money so much, but family heirlooms, jewelry, old magical relics, that sort of thing—you know, the stuff Purebloods love to have scattered about the house. And let's say I want to sell this stuff. Is the market good for it?"

"Sure," said Dung. "Market's always good for that sort of thing. 'Specially gold pieces and powerful magical charms. Rare antique books will fetch a surprisingly good price too. You uh… Lookin' for a connection to sell to?"

Harry shrugged. "Might be. Keep your eyes open for people interested in these types of things, will you?"

"Sure," said Dung.

"I'll cut you in on the profit if you find a buyer I like," said Harry, and he meant it. It was good to have a couple stable connections business-wise, and forming a good partnership with Dung could be very profitable.

"I'll toast to that," said Dung, and downed his glass of firewiskey.

"Want to play cards?" Harry offered innocently.

"Ha! No way. Playing with you one time was once too many." He waved the bartender over. "How about the Chudley Cannons, though? Another miserable season…"

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The Tipsy Dragon was his main source of information, but he also ventured into Knockturn Alley a few more times as well as the surrounding area of wizarding London. There was only one incident that occurred during this time, and it happened in a sketchy backstreet of Knockturn Alley.

Two thugs had seen Harry turn into the street, and thinking he was an easy target because of his thinness and unassuming air, decided to relieve him of his money.

It wasn't much of a fight—before the first thug had even taken out his wand, Harry was a blur of motion, stunning the first man and blasting the second one into a wall.

I'm a very hard man to sneak up on, thought Harry. Being chased by murderous lunatics for years will do that to you.

On the two thugs he found a couple of small sacks full of galleons and sickles, and leaving the men unconscious in the alley, decided it was a very good day.

He had some more money and he had decided on his target. Sure, it would take some time to check out the house and its defenses, but everything was moving along nicely.

The Casdale family was a self-proclaimed neutral family, not too powerful or large, but plenty rich. They were perfect.