Harry Potter sat beneath the newly-planted little cherry tree in the
front of #4 Privet Drive, rethinking the past events of this summer. His
first thought as he returned to the Dursley's house, was to take over his
life and not to let Dumbledore or the Dursley's control it. SO his first
move in following through with this resolution:
Be able to defend him self.
This meant that he was going to have to be able to do magic, and that required permission from the Ministry of Magic. So that's what he did, got permission. He wrote a letter telling Mr. Fudge that "since he had no living guardian; he had to live with his MUGGLE relatives. This meant that he was prone to a Death Eater attack, and if he couldn't defend him self, he would surely die." He then continued, exclaiming "what uproar the world would be in now that He had died, and people would wonder why the Minister hadn't taken more precautions to protecting Him. Surely", he said, "They would thirst for a stronger leader, not one that would practically kill their sense of hope."
Needless to say, there had been a letter on his bedside table the next morning. Harry chuckled to him self as remembered the letter from the bumbling Minister.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Coincidentally, I was thinking the exact same thing when your owl, Hedwig, is it? Lovely name by the way. Ah yes, when your owl Hedwig came soaring through my office window. It had occurred to me that you would need more defense than that of a muggle, so I have followed through with your brilliant request, thus granting you an Orphan's Waiver. This Article gives you permission to use magic freely, Now I really must be off, have a nice holiday.
Cornelius Fudge
(Minister of Magic, International Federation of Wizards, Wizengmot, Supreme Mugwump...)
Harry smiled again as he remembered how the letter was written: Like he was pushing him self to do it. He was sure that the Minister was outraged by such a request, but had granted it so as he could keep his position, even if Harry did die. 'Good for him, he deserves it, the bumbling idiot.' thought Harry, silently cursing the clueless so-called 'Leader' of the Wizarding World.
His next step in becoming able to defend him self was to be in shape, so as he could dodge and react faster in a duel. He had started running everyday for the past three-weeks, and he couldn't say that it didn't help him. He now had much more stamina. He knew that he had an Order member that followed him everywhere, except on Tuesdays, as that was Mundugus' day, and everyday he fell asleep an hour into the job. Luckily today was Tuesday, as he was ready to initiate his next part to taking over his own life. He needed to train, both magically and muggely, so he was ready to fight when the time came. For this he needed one place:
Diagon Alley.
The next letter he received had only influenced his need for the Wizarding Street. He frowned as he remembered this one.
Mr. Harry Potter,
We are sad to of heard about the passing of the late Sirius Orion Black, as he was a great client of ours. But alas, we cannot change the past, only align the future. Well now that the grievances are in order, it's down to business. In his will he left you everything (For a list of EVERYTHING, which happens to be a lot, see the separate parchment). But while passing away he also left you your family fortune, which was even larger than the Black Family. We must meet before Hogwarts School resumes, as to place all of your afore-mentioned assets in the correct order. As stated, please meet with us in Diagon Alley as soon as possible, the sooner, the better.
Thank you,
Griphook
He, even after over a month-and-a-half, still didn't like the subject or Sirius, as it only made him sad and depressed, but he was damn well going to do what Sirius had wanted him to since he had known him: Enjoy Life. After the letter from the Minister, he knew he had power, no not power, he had influence. He had figured out the art of Persuasion, and was quickly mastering it. He would only prove his point as he made his way to Diagon Alley.
He put a few different charms over him self, ones that he had found in his fourth year book of charms, ones that made him look different. He had searched through many of his books, searching for different glamorous charms to make his face differ, and he also added height.
He made his eyes a steel onyx, his hair blonde, and then to his disappointment, he tried his scar, which didn't disappear. He tried again, but got the same results. 'Damn Voldemort, now this thing won't even disappear!' After more failed attempts, he finally gave in and made his skin much more tanned which, much to his surprise, quickly diminished his scar. 'Cool! It worked; I think I'll keep it this way.'
After changing his appearance, listening to make sure he didn't hear any Order Members following, or any muggles around, he pulled out his wand, and pointed it up at an angle, and suddenly a big purple triple-decker bus appeared, as if of magic. The double door slid out of the way, revealing yet again, a skinny Stan Shunpike.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation of Stranded Wizards, Jump aboard and we'll take you abroad. What's your name?" Harry quickly said his thought up name, "Chris McCormick, and your Stan, a friend referred me to this bus, so no need for introductions, I jus' need a ride to Diagon Alley." Stan soon recovered from his shocked state.
"Alright that'll be 18 sickles, 3 knuts." Harry paid Stan the Fare and found his bed at the back of the bus. Apparently he was the only person on the bus once again. He lay down, intending to rest his eyes, but found him self becoming car sick, and immediately sat upright. Just sitting there, he began wondering what all was his now that Sirius was gone. He had disregarded the list of what he received, as he got the letter late last night and he was falling asleep as he read so he read it then fell back to sleep.
But the letter wasn't all he was going to the Alley for. He needed more than that, he needed supplies. And when he said supplies, he meant supplies for combat; supplies that would help him win the war. He had already enlarged his room, multiple times actually, and it was now roughly the size of half a quidditch pitch if not bigger. Before he knew it, he was jumping off the bus, glad to be off the sickening transportation.
He couldn't decide which was worse, The Knight Bus, Floo Powder, or Portkey, but no matter how bad the first and last ones were; Floo was infinitely the worse. He smiled as he walked in the Leaky Cauldron, delighted that he didn't have people gawking at his scar and whispering thinks like "It's Harry Potter!," or "The-boy-who-lived, it's actually him!". He just walked through, tapped the correct books, and walked straight through with no one noticing except a few girls, who he noticed were whispering some naughty things. He almost fell over holding his gut when he saw Cho Staring and pointing at him while whispering something in her friend's ear.
He walked into Gringotts, and looked around. His gaze finally fell on a desk that had the words-Last Will and Testaments' & Inheritances'. He walked over to that desk and saw Griphook, the Goblin that helped him and Hagrid in his first year peering down at him. In a quiet tone, he said,
"Hello, I received a letter that said to meet with you as soon as possible, about the Inheritance of Sirius Black, but I'm in disguise and don't want to be known." The Goblin looked down, as if trying to determine if this was the real Harry or not.\
"If you are who you say you are, then who was the Goblin that helped you when you were first brought here, and who brought you here that time?" Harry smiled. He had expected something like this.
"To you first question. You. To your second, a half-giant man named Hagrid. Now let's go, I don't want any attention brought to me."
The Green midget-size creature nodded, jumped of his seat, and allowed Harry through the door, nodding for him to follow him. Harry stayed quiet the whole time as they walked many sets of stairs, passing one office each time they descended another set of stairs. They finally stopped outside the office on the ninth floor.
"In you go, you will be expected." Was all he said as he disappeared through the wall, which baffled Harry. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.
Inside was a tidy office, not much bigger than his regular room at the Dursley's, without his spell work done of course. There were shelves with books, a few things Harry didn't recognize, and a desk with a Goblin that had a friendly smile on his face. Suddenly Harry did a retake, Friendly Smile? That didn't fit a goblin's description at all. He knew that many Goblins smiled, but only did it to get better business and more money.
"Please, sit down. We have been expecting you, though I'm sorry to say that you happened to have caught me at a bad time, as I have an appointment in 15 minutes Mr. Potter. Albeit no worry, we'll just have to get straight to business. First of all, my name's Clutchhook, I'm a cousin of Griphook's. Okay now that the introductions are over, down to commerce."
"First of all, Sirius dieing affected a multitude of things. Foremost, it left you his sole heir. You receive everything that Sirius had, and have free reign to do what you see fit to do with it. But also, it changed your parent's will. You see, in the Potter's will, it said that you were to receive all other assets that weren't already in your savings account, vault number 687. You see Harry, the Potter's were one of the oldest families, dating back even further than the founder's of Hogwarts, second only to the Dumbledore's, I believe. There vault number was 2. Even the Founder's vaults were 5, 6, 7, and 8. Well over that amount of time, let's just say that you build up quite a fortune. The Potter's are the wealthiest family in the world, even by muggle standards. You are even wealthier than the Dumbledore's and Blacks."
"Harry what I'm telling you, is that you're the wealthiest man alive, actually the wealthiest person ever. All the money in the world would barely top the amount that you have once you combine that of vault's 2 and 3, the Potters and Blacks. Oh, and if your wondering vault number 4 are the Dippets, which in case you haven't heard, the last heir, Armando Dippet was Albus Dumbledore's predecessor for the title of Headmaster of Hogwarts." Harry sat thinking about this for a while until a question whizzed into his head.
"But Sir, what is the money in my original vault, number 687?" Clutchhook didn't seem surprised by the question, and in fact already had an answer.
"Ah yes, I was wondering if you would think of that, that was the savings account your parents had set up for you, until you were old enough to inherit the vault number 2."
Harry was having a hard time thinking about all this at one time. He decided to end the visit with the friendly goblin as soon as possible and asked two questions that would mark the conclusion to this appointment.
"Okay no that I don't enjoy your company, but this is rather a lot to take in, in such a compacted amount of time, might I say. So if we could end this rather quickly I would greatly appreciate it, so I'm jus' gonna ask the essential questions. What are my properties that I now own? And how much money do I have now that I have combined vaults 2 and 3?"
Clutchhook nodded his approval, and quickly added and looked up a few things on some parchment.
"Okay, you have 27 total mansions spread out all over the world. This envelope contains each of those names and locations, as well as the wards set up around each and from what family they come from. As for money wise, would you like them separated into galleons, sickles, and knuts, or just galleons?"
"Galleons." Was all Harry said.
"Very well, all together you now have 75, 037, 656 galleons. Congratulations Mr. Millionaire, I mean Mr. Potter. You are the wealthiest person to ever live. Oh and if you transferred that all to pounds, you would have about three-trillion dollars. Now that that is over, it was very well doing business with you. May we meet again!" The nice goblin held out his hand, and Harry took it.
"Yes, may we. Good-bye." And with that, Harry walked out the door.
He was surprised to see Griphook standing there, holding a lantern. "Follow me." Was all he said, and they began the tremendous climb up the stairs that led to the main lobby. But Harry didn't realize that they had started climbing, had been half-way up, or when they had finished. He had been intently thinking about what had just happened. His was brought out of his reverie when he heard a disgruntled 'Anything else, Sir?' from a very impatient goblin.
"Actually yes, I have just inherited a large amount of money and need to know if there is a way to pay without having to heft heavy bags of galleons around all day. I will be spending many a galleon today and do not feel like having the extra weight."
The Goblin had looked crestfallen when Harry had said yes, but his ears had perked up while he was asking the last question.
"Why yes sir, there is the Magical Checkbook. It is set to only respond to your voice and only you can control what it does. You simply hold up the speaker box to your mouth, speak the amount you wish to pay, and a check that Gringotts is now accepting will print out, and you simply give the clerk that check and that pays your purchases. Very simple and very smart buy." Harry didn't even need to hear anymore.
"I'll take it, how much?" The green fellow looked surprised, and then pulled Harry's sleeve, leading him to a desk. He pulled out what looked like a shrunken printer, only it had the form of a CD case really, but a little thinner, width wise. "That will be 57 galleons sir." Harry then realized that he didn't have any money with him, but then also realized that he must have some pull with the greedy little critters."
Oh, sorry, I don't have any money with me." The goblin started to pull back the checkbook, but Harry smirked, and continued, "Can you take that out of vault two or three?" The goblin's eyes suddenly opened wide and looked like he was about to ask if he was really who he said he was, so Harry held up his keys.
"Certainly Sir, that's very possible. Here is your item, thank you for buying Gringotts, and have a nice day."
Harry smiled, he was right. He did have persuasion. And now he had it with a race that absolutely despised humans. He could tell this was going to be a very exciting trip after all.
Once he was out of Gringotts, he thought of what he would need most: A second wand. Sure, his wand was powerful, very powerful actually, but it was useless against Voldemort and his wand. So he headed to Olivanders, and started thinking about what he was gonna say in order for Mr. Olivander to allow him a second wand, especially with no one knowing but them.
He walked in, and the same atmosphere as before rushed into his face: That of musty wood. He silently laughed at his joke, but that seemed enough for Mr. Olivander. Harry heard him before he saw him.
"I can't say I was expecting you this time, Mr. Potter. But I can guess at what you're here for. But that is exactly that: A guess. So what, may I ask, are you here for, Harry?" Harry smirked. He could swear that this guy knew Legilemency, that or he was a seer. For now he ruled out that thought, and continued the conversation.
"Well I have no doubt you are wise, so I'm guessing your theory is correct. I'm here for a second wand; I believe you know the circumstances?" Olivander nodded his consent, and pulled himself to the back. He returned within the minute, already levitating several boxes of wands. Harry looked shocked, and wondered what all of these were for.
"In case you're wondering, I remember the first time you were in here, and this time I come prepared. Ha! Ok, now try this... 10 ½ inches, oak, unicorn hair..." and so continued, just like his first time. Trying wand after wand; But still nothing. Thirty wands: nothing. Forty wands: nothing. They gave up after 50 and Harry let out a disappointed sigh, but Olivander had a great smile on his face. Harry looked up, as if insulted, and asked-
"Excuse me, not to be rude, but what's there to be happy about? We just tried fifty-seven wands, and not a single one gave a glimpse of hope, not one!" Harry ended off exhausted.
"Quite alright Mr. Potter. The thing I am happy about is that you just qualified." Harry looked up, confused but interested. Harry nodded his consent, and Mr. Olivander continued. "You see, after trying several wands, and receiving no reaction, I move my customers on to something else, something more powerful, a staff. A staff, you see, almost triples an attack power. For example, say you hit an opponent with a simple disarming curse. The effects would be the same of sorts, but much more disastrous. Instead of just disarming the opponent, it would also fling them back a good thirty or forty feet if you can actually appropriately handle the staff. Also, unlike wands, you choose the staff, it doesn't choose you. So follow me, and we'll pick you out a staff."
Harry followed the aged wizard, now fully fascinated with the idea of becoming more powerful, so he could extract revenge from the monster that destroyed his life, and so many others. He thought of all the people he had killed. His parents, Cedric, Bertha Jerkins, Sirius, and so many others he didn't even count. Then he thought of someone who had it even worst, Neville. He had to bare the fact that his parents weren't dead, but in more ways that alive, are. He had to see his parents, talk to them, but they didn't hear, listen, or talk back. 'Poor Neville, but at least he had an okay upbringing, good for him.' Harry thought, sympathizing and envying his classmate at the same time. He then noticed that they were stopped. They were in front of a door that said: Authorized Personnel Only. Mr. Olivander opened the door, motioning for Harry to follow, so he did.
Be able to defend him self.
This meant that he was going to have to be able to do magic, and that required permission from the Ministry of Magic. So that's what he did, got permission. He wrote a letter telling Mr. Fudge that "since he had no living guardian; he had to live with his MUGGLE relatives. This meant that he was prone to a Death Eater attack, and if he couldn't defend him self, he would surely die." He then continued, exclaiming "what uproar the world would be in now that He had died, and people would wonder why the Minister hadn't taken more precautions to protecting Him. Surely", he said, "They would thirst for a stronger leader, not one that would practically kill their sense of hope."
Needless to say, there had been a letter on his bedside table the next morning. Harry chuckled to him self as remembered the letter from the bumbling Minister.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Coincidentally, I was thinking the exact same thing when your owl, Hedwig, is it? Lovely name by the way. Ah yes, when your owl Hedwig came soaring through my office window. It had occurred to me that you would need more defense than that of a muggle, so I have followed through with your brilliant request, thus granting you an Orphan's Waiver. This Article gives you permission to use magic freely, Now I really must be off, have a nice holiday.
Cornelius Fudge
(Minister of Magic, International Federation of Wizards, Wizengmot, Supreme Mugwump...)
Harry smiled again as he remembered how the letter was written: Like he was pushing him self to do it. He was sure that the Minister was outraged by such a request, but had granted it so as he could keep his position, even if Harry did die. 'Good for him, he deserves it, the bumbling idiot.' thought Harry, silently cursing the clueless so-called 'Leader' of the Wizarding World.
His next step in becoming able to defend him self was to be in shape, so as he could dodge and react faster in a duel. He had started running everyday for the past three-weeks, and he couldn't say that it didn't help him. He now had much more stamina. He knew that he had an Order member that followed him everywhere, except on Tuesdays, as that was Mundugus' day, and everyday he fell asleep an hour into the job. Luckily today was Tuesday, as he was ready to initiate his next part to taking over his own life. He needed to train, both magically and muggely, so he was ready to fight when the time came. For this he needed one place:
Diagon Alley.
The next letter he received had only influenced his need for the Wizarding Street. He frowned as he remembered this one.
Mr. Harry Potter,
We are sad to of heard about the passing of the late Sirius Orion Black, as he was a great client of ours. But alas, we cannot change the past, only align the future. Well now that the grievances are in order, it's down to business. In his will he left you everything (For a list of EVERYTHING, which happens to be a lot, see the separate parchment). But while passing away he also left you your family fortune, which was even larger than the Black Family. We must meet before Hogwarts School resumes, as to place all of your afore-mentioned assets in the correct order. As stated, please meet with us in Diagon Alley as soon as possible, the sooner, the better.
Thank you,
Griphook
He, even after over a month-and-a-half, still didn't like the subject or Sirius, as it only made him sad and depressed, but he was damn well going to do what Sirius had wanted him to since he had known him: Enjoy Life. After the letter from the Minister, he knew he had power, no not power, he had influence. He had figured out the art of Persuasion, and was quickly mastering it. He would only prove his point as he made his way to Diagon Alley.
He put a few different charms over him self, ones that he had found in his fourth year book of charms, ones that made him look different. He had searched through many of his books, searching for different glamorous charms to make his face differ, and he also added height.
He made his eyes a steel onyx, his hair blonde, and then to his disappointment, he tried his scar, which didn't disappear. He tried again, but got the same results. 'Damn Voldemort, now this thing won't even disappear!' After more failed attempts, he finally gave in and made his skin much more tanned which, much to his surprise, quickly diminished his scar. 'Cool! It worked; I think I'll keep it this way.'
After changing his appearance, listening to make sure he didn't hear any Order Members following, or any muggles around, he pulled out his wand, and pointed it up at an angle, and suddenly a big purple triple-decker bus appeared, as if of magic. The double door slid out of the way, revealing yet again, a skinny Stan Shunpike.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation of Stranded Wizards, Jump aboard and we'll take you abroad. What's your name?" Harry quickly said his thought up name, "Chris McCormick, and your Stan, a friend referred me to this bus, so no need for introductions, I jus' need a ride to Diagon Alley." Stan soon recovered from his shocked state.
"Alright that'll be 18 sickles, 3 knuts." Harry paid Stan the Fare and found his bed at the back of the bus. Apparently he was the only person on the bus once again. He lay down, intending to rest his eyes, but found him self becoming car sick, and immediately sat upright. Just sitting there, he began wondering what all was his now that Sirius was gone. He had disregarded the list of what he received, as he got the letter late last night and he was falling asleep as he read so he read it then fell back to sleep.
But the letter wasn't all he was going to the Alley for. He needed more than that, he needed supplies. And when he said supplies, he meant supplies for combat; supplies that would help him win the war. He had already enlarged his room, multiple times actually, and it was now roughly the size of half a quidditch pitch if not bigger. Before he knew it, he was jumping off the bus, glad to be off the sickening transportation.
He couldn't decide which was worse, The Knight Bus, Floo Powder, or Portkey, but no matter how bad the first and last ones were; Floo was infinitely the worse. He smiled as he walked in the Leaky Cauldron, delighted that he didn't have people gawking at his scar and whispering thinks like "It's Harry Potter!," or "The-boy-who-lived, it's actually him!". He just walked through, tapped the correct books, and walked straight through with no one noticing except a few girls, who he noticed were whispering some naughty things. He almost fell over holding his gut when he saw Cho Staring and pointing at him while whispering something in her friend's ear.
He walked into Gringotts, and looked around. His gaze finally fell on a desk that had the words-Last Will and Testaments' & Inheritances'. He walked over to that desk and saw Griphook, the Goblin that helped him and Hagrid in his first year peering down at him. In a quiet tone, he said,
"Hello, I received a letter that said to meet with you as soon as possible, about the Inheritance of Sirius Black, but I'm in disguise and don't want to be known." The Goblin looked down, as if trying to determine if this was the real Harry or not.\
"If you are who you say you are, then who was the Goblin that helped you when you were first brought here, and who brought you here that time?" Harry smiled. He had expected something like this.
"To you first question. You. To your second, a half-giant man named Hagrid. Now let's go, I don't want any attention brought to me."
The Green midget-size creature nodded, jumped of his seat, and allowed Harry through the door, nodding for him to follow him. Harry stayed quiet the whole time as they walked many sets of stairs, passing one office each time they descended another set of stairs. They finally stopped outside the office on the ninth floor.
"In you go, you will be expected." Was all he said as he disappeared through the wall, which baffled Harry. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.
Inside was a tidy office, not much bigger than his regular room at the Dursley's, without his spell work done of course. There were shelves with books, a few things Harry didn't recognize, and a desk with a Goblin that had a friendly smile on his face. Suddenly Harry did a retake, Friendly Smile? That didn't fit a goblin's description at all. He knew that many Goblins smiled, but only did it to get better business and more money.
"Please, sit down. We have been expecting you, though I'm sorry to say that you happened to have caught me at a bad time, as I have an appointment in 15 minutes Mr. Potter. Albeit no worry, we'll just have to get straight to business. First of all, my name's Clutchhook, I'm a cousin of Griphook's. Okay now that the introductions are over, down to commerce."
"First of all, Sirius dieing affected a multitude of things. Foremost, it left you his sole heir. You receive everything that Sirius had, and have free reign to do what you see fit to do with it. But also, it changed your parent's will. You see, in the Potter's will, it said that you were to receive all other assets that weren't already in your savings account, vault number 687. You see Harry, the Potter's were one of the oldest families, dating back even further than the founder's of Hogwarts, second only to the Dumbledore's, I believe. There vault number was 2. Even the Founder's vaults were 5, 6, 7, and 8. Well over that amount of time, let's just say that you build up quite a fortune. The Potter's are the wealthiest family in the world, even by muggle standards. You are even wealthier than the Dumbledore's and Blacks."
"Harry what I'm telling you, is that you're the wealthiest man alive, actually the wealthiest person ever. All the money in the world would barely top the amount that you have once you combine that of vault's 2 and 3, the Potters and Blacks. Oh, and if your wondering vault number 4 are the Dippets, which in case you haven't heard, the last heir, Armando Dippet was Albus Dumbledore's predecessor for the title of Headmaster of Hogwarts." Harry sat thinking about this for a while until a question whizzed into his head.
"But Sir, what is the money in my original vault, number 687?" Clutchhook didn't seem surprised by the question, and in fact already had an answer.
"Ah yes, I was wondering if you would think of that, that was the savings account your parents had set up for you, until you were old enough to inherit the vault number 2."
Harry was having a hard time thinking about all this at one time. He decided to end the visit with the friendly goblin as soon as possible and asked two questions that would mark the conclusion to this appointment.
"Okay no that I don't enjoy your company, but this is rather a lot to take in, in such a compacted amount of time, might I say. So if we could end this rather quickly I would greatly appreciate it, so I'm jus' gonna ask the essential questions. What are my properties that I now own? And how much money do I have now that I have combined vaults 2 and 3?"
Clutchhook nodded his approval, and quickly added and looked up a few things on some parchment.
"Okay, you have 27 total mansions spread out all over the world. This envelope contains each of those names and locations, as well as the wards set up around each and from what family they come from. As for money wise, would you like them separated into galleons, sickles, and knuts, or just galleons?"
"Galleons." Was all Harry said.
"Very well, all together you now have 75, 037, 656 galleons. Congratulations Mr. Millionaire, I mean Mr. Potter. You are the wealthiest person to ever live. Oh and if you transferred that all to pounds, you would have about three-trillion dollars. Now that that is over, it was very well doing business with you. May we meet again!" The nice goblin held out his hand, and Harry took it.
"Yes, may we. Good-bye." And with that, Harry walked out the door.
He was surprised to see Griphook standing there, holding a lantern. "Follow me." Was all he said, and they began the tremendous climb up the stairs that led to the main lobby. But Harry didn't realize that they had started climbing, had been half-way up, or when they had finished. He had been intently thinking about what had just happened. His was brought out of his reverie when he heard a disgruntled 'Anything else, Sir?' from a very impatient goblin.
"Actually yes, I have just inherited a large amount of money and need to know if there is a way to pay without having to heft heavy bags of galleons around all day. I will be spending many a galleon today and do not feel like having the extra weight."
The Goblin had looked crestfallen when Harry had said yes, but his ears had perked up while he was asking the last question.
"Why yes sir, there is the Magical Checkbook. It is set to only respond to your voice and only you can control what it does. You simply hold up the speaker box to your mouth, speak the amount you wish to pay, and a check that Gringotts is now accepting will print out, and you simply give the clerk that check and that pays your purchases. Very simple and very smart buy." Harry didn't even need to hear anymore.
"I'll take it, how much?" The green fellow looked surprised, and then pulled Harry's sleeve, leading him to a desk. He pulled out what looked like a shrunken printer, only it had the form of a CD case really, but a little thinner, width wise. "That will be 57 galleons sir." Harry then realized that he didn't have any money with him, but then also realized that he must have some pull with the greedy little critters."
Oh, sorry, I don't have any money with me." The goblin started to pull back the checkbook, but Harry smirked, and continued, "Can you take that out of vault two or three?" The goblin's eyes suddenly opened wide and looked like he was about to ask if he was really who he said he was, so Harry held up his keys.
"Certainly Sir, that's very possible. Here is your item, thank you for buying Gringotts, and have a nice day."
Harry smiled, he was right. He did have persuasion. And now he had it with a race that absolutely despised humans. He could tell this was going to be a very exciting trip after all.
Once he was out of Gringotts, he thought of what he would need most: A second wand. Sure, his wand was powerful, very powerful actually, but it was useless against Voldemort and his wand. So he headed to Olivanders, and started thinking about what he was gonna say in order for Mr. Olivander to allow him a second wand, especially with no one knowing but them.
He walked in, and the same atmosphere as before rushed into his face: That of musty wood. He silently laughed at his joke, but that seemed enough for Mr. Olivander. Harry heard him before he saw him.
"I can't say I was expecting you this time, Mr. Potter. But I can guess at what you're here for. But that is exactly that: A guess. So what, may I ask, are you here for, Harry?" Harry smirked. He could swear that this guy knew Legilemency, that or he was a seer. For now he ruled out that thought, and continued the conversation.
"Well I have no doubt you are wise, so I'm guessing your theory is correct. I'm here for a second wand; I believe you know the circumstances?" Olivander nodded his consent, and pulled himself to the back. He returned within the minute, already levitating several boxes of wands. Harry looked shocked, and wondered what all of these were for.
"In case you're wondering, I remember the first time you were in here, and this time I come prepared. Ha! Ok, now try this... 10 ½ inches, oak, unicorn hair..." and so continued, just like his first time. Trying wand after wand; But still nothing. Thirty wands: nothing. Forty wands: nothing. They gave up after 50 and Harry let out a disappointed sigh, but Olivander had a great smile on his face. Harry looked up, as if insulted, and asked-
"Excuse me, not to be rude, but what's there to be happy about? We just tried fifty-seven wands, and not a single one gave a glimpse of hope, not one!" Harry ended off exhausted.
"Quite alright Mr. Potter. The thing I am happy about is that you just qualified." Harry looked up, confused but interested. Harry nodded his consent, and Mr. Olivander continued. "You see, after trying several wands, and receiving no reaction, I move my customers on to something else, something more powerful, a staff. A staff, you see, almost triples an attack power. For example, say you hit an opponent with a simple disarming curse. The effects would be the same of sorts, but much more disastrous. Instead of just disarming the opponent, it would also fling them back a good thirty or forty feet if you can actually appropriately handle the staff. Also, unlike wands, you choose the staff, it doesn't choose you. So follow me, and we'll pick you out a staff."
Harry followed the aged wizard, now fully fascinated with the idea of becoming more powerful, so he could extract revenge from the monster that destroyed his life, and so many others. He thought of all the people he had killed. His parents, Cedric, Bertha Jerkins, Sirius, and so many others he didn't even count. Then he thought of someone who had it even worst, Neville. He had to bare the fact that his parents weren't dead, but in more ways that alive, are. He had to see his parents, talk to them, but they didn't hear, listen, or talk back. 'Poor Neville, but at least he had an okay upbringing, good for him.' Harry thought, sympathizing and envying his classmate at the same time. He then noticed that they were stopped. They were in front of a door that said: Authorized Personnel Only. Mr. Olivander opened the door, motioning for Harry to follow, so he did.
