He would have to be more careful messing with his form in his mind, clearly.
A wave of the hand and his clothing wrapped around him again, was cleansed, and faded to a gray shirt and dark blue jeans. He got up and felt his bed being made behind him as he went to his trunk. As he opened it and felt around for his wand with his threads, he looked at the back of his left hand. There was a green square on the back.
Great.
Still, if he was stuck with it for now he might as well use it. His hand snagged the wand from the air and he tagged it with two threads, one for each core. Watching carefully, he pressed it into his left hand... and it vanished.
His blank face began to break into a devious smirk.
Crazy self experimentation? No, this was all planed. Yep. Well, he would tell people that anyway.
Aww, who cared, he had magical hand storage! Who WOULDN'T find this awesome! His mind idly thought about being covered in boxes and having guns and stuff that would poke out and fire and... oh. Right, it hurt like hell.
Well, one was more than enough.
He moved the most valuable things into his hand, including his master book. As he began moving things around, he bumped into the previously made potions he had bought from the apothecary shop. He had bought a bunch of them when Professor McGonagall had not been looking, believing the better-safe-than-sorry approach would work best. He had also paid extra for the gold runes on the rim of the potions, which should keep them from spoilage for several years.
Harry was told that the three bezoars he had bought (Ugly rock like things) would be able to handle most poisons in existence. Of course he immediately asked for potions to cure the ones bezoars skipped on. That ended with him owning five Antidote to Common Poisons and three Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. He had wanted more, but there was a limited stock at the shop since anyone who needed it would normally die before getting to some store.
Paranoia of course kept him from stopping at antidotes, although he expected SOMEONE to try and poison him eventually. The Potter name was too well known for someone NOT to try and crazy him out of his existence, even without deatheaters being out there. While some potions had nasty side effects (Calming Draughts could be addicting and over-use could make a person stop caring about danger), he had gotten several jars of Burn-healing paste and some vials of Blood-Replenishing Potions. He had also found something called "Essence of Dittany", which would regrow skin over his wounds. He had held off on that though, he wouldn't want to have extra skin accidentally, but he did get some "Murtlap Essence" which was supposed to heal and sooth deep cuts and abrasions.
Other stuff was actually fairly cheap, even with the preservation runes. The Cough Potions and Hiccoughing Solution (Cures coughs and hiccups) were almost given away.
He had tried to get something called "Baruffio's Brain Elixir", but it was heavily restricted for children with mental development issues by the ministry. It supposedly made the brain more efficient and stuff, but on a healthy individual it could cause madness. Same issue with the Memory Potions and so forth. The mind had to develop naturally if possible, else things could go VERY wrong, like your magic exploding you and stuff.
It had been during that conversation about ministry potion regulation that he had discovered love potions.
He had nearly passed out.
A potion that would basically turn you into a sex-crazed mindless zombie, as kinky as it sounded, terrified him. He knew there were lots of girls (Probably old witches too) that wanted to have THE Harry Potter. As far as he could tell it was the magical world's form of Viagra, only more acceptable since it could be tuned to your husband/wife only and not worry about friends or strangers suddenly getting MUCH closer to you. Using it against someone without their knowledge was illegal, but so was killing and someone had tried THAT on Harry VERY early on.
He had wanted to buy a LOT of love potion antidote. Thankfully the shopkeep (When she had stopped laughing at his expression) had told him about some basic charms that lasted for weeks to prevent this kind of thing. Obviously famous people and ministry officials were targets for women and men who wanted power, and a sex-crazed person could be tricked pretty easily to sign stuff. It was why the "Unforgivable" Imperio was so... unforgivable. Unlike the weaker compulsion charms and love potions, it could not be blocked with the prevention charm (She had provided a pamphlet on how to cast it, which also included a fertility charm and a contraceptive charm to his embarrassment. These things really were meant for older wizards after all.) As a last resort, the nice lady (Who had eventually demanded to be told why a child was buying so many potions) had suggested that Harry should buy several Restoration Potions, which were supposed to get rid of most spell effects and potions from the body. She did warn him not to use them all the time, as they were a last resort measure and had a heavy toll on a wizards body and magic.
He carefully tagged each potion with a thread and placed into his hand, so he could know WHICH potion each was and pull only the ones he needed. He held the pamphlet again, feeling embarrassed even a day later. He really needed to memorize it and practice in his head, but he kept blushing when he opened it.
Several awkward moments later he filed the pamphlet inside a random book and hid it in his library trunk. His cheeks felt burned red, but at least he would know those spells for later. Much later, likely. He put other tools into his hand, including his telescope and the knife for potions class, as well as some quills and ink pens. He also put a good amount of parchment and empty potion phials in as well. It had felt odd as the paper shrank into his hand, like shoving a water balloon through a tube.
He had lots of space left, but he wanted the rest to go in his family trunk.
His eyes fell on the raw materials. It would save time if he didn't have to keep going to his room when he needed to repair things. With a wave of his right hand, cubes of wood, plastic, metals, and glass moved from his stockpiles into his left hand, shrinking to smaller than a sugar cube. He tagged them all with his green threads as his room suddenly grew cleaner than it had been for months. Finally the various threads of cotton, silk, plastic, and such were pulled into his hand, leaving his room feeling both larger and strangely empty.
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