Back to Diagon Alley

He dreaded going to bed that night for he was well aware whom he shared the room with. When he entered quietly, it didn't surprise him that their mattresses were placed next to each other, much closer than usual.

Sara was the only one who noticed him when he tried not to be seen or heard. She'd been able to do so for quite a while. It was an instinct that was reciprocated. He would have to ask Kertak whether there was the slightest chance that she was magical. His friend would know for he was much more attuned to magic than he was.

He wasn't surprised when he saw that there were two forms sitting on his bed. Even in the almost complete darkness he saw the smaller form swaying a little as if falling asleep every second.

"Hey, kids," he whispered affectionately.

Both stood up immediately, ran over and embraced him.

Luke was two years younger than he was, but he was almost as tall as him. He closed his eyes as soon as Sara's little body was secured in his arms.

"Sorry for upsetting you," the girl whispered, causing Harry to take a step back.

"You didn't…"

"You should go… to that place," she continued as if not hearing what he said, "We'll find a way, we always do, don't we?" Tears were falling from her face when she looked up. Then, she softly laid her right hand on his chest and said, "Remember that terrible winter night when I got lost and nobody was able to find me but you? Remember what you said? 'I'll always find you, Sara. As long as my heart is…'"

"'Still beating, I'll find you, little one. For I'm your brother and protecting you is part of the job description.'" She laughed and cried while he swallowed heavily. "I'll be there for you, little one, no matter how far away I'll be."

"Tell me a story."

Harry smiled and the all three of them sat down. "Sure, what do you want to hear?" heasked kindly.

"'Fly, Little Fledgling, Fly.'" Harry smiled. Small children loved fairytales, which was why he'd asked Kertak whether it was okay to tell his small friends some of the stories he'd been told. Kertak had hesitated at first, but then realized that to the kids it would be nothing but a story. That the magical creatures actually existed, they would never know.

"'This is the story of Gaio, the little Hippogriff who simply wouldn't fly.' You see, hippogriffs lived a long time ago and they were magical creatures with the head of a giant eagle and the body of a horse. They were very proud and were children of the sky." And so he told the story with slight alterations to Kertak's version.

It didn't take long and Sara fell asleep. Luke followed her into the land of dreams shortly after.

He put them both to bed and lied down on his mattress. Before his head hit the small pillow, he was already asleep.

No matter how tired he was he got up as usual. It was half-past five in the morning when he quietly left the chamber and snuck down in order to prepare for the day. He went into the cellar to get the dry laundry from the day before and started to fold it. Then, as quietly as possible, he went upstairs and put in front of each chamber the clothing of its inhabitants. After that, he went into the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast. They wouldn't get up before seven, which was why he didn't cook any bacon just yet. Sausages were served exclusively on Sundays.

He looked at the prepared table and noticed that the only thing missing was bread. The moment he thought about it, the characteristic sound of a key being put into a lock was heard.

He walked towards the entrance with a smile.

"Good morning, Sister Margret."

She startled. "Dear Goodness, child! Do not move so quietly or you will cause my death one of these days," she chastised him, but her eyes softened as soon as her heartbeat calmed down somewhat.

"Don't tell me, everything is already prepared. Again…"

"Well, not everything…"

She sighed, crouched down only forced to moan a little due to arthritis in her hips and softly caressed his cheek.

"You are a good child, Harry, but you have to learn that not everything is in your responsibility," she stated quietly, "I'm glad you will finally be able to learn that lesson when you go to that school." She smiled when she saw him startle.

"Sister Augustine and I have decided not to interfere for it was clearly something that had to be discussed amongst you children. Adults most likely would have made the situation worse. That doesn't mean we have been deaf and blind yesterday."

That was what Harry liked about the Sisters. Although they sheltered them, they trusted them to make their own decisions and only interfered when there was actual danger. They understood the dynamics of orphaned children as well as they knew each individual's character. Harry had seen enough orphanages to know that this wasn't the case in the majority of them.

"What day is your departure?" A question undoubtedly asked a hundred times before, but it looked as if the pain over it never lessened.

"I'll come back, you know," he said to make that clear, "September first."

She nodded, but didn't say anything.

They were quiet for a moment until Sister Margret spoke up. "Come, help be get in the supplies."

And together they brought in bread, fresh vegetables and fruits. Harry looked at the pitiful ration of fruits and vegetables and frowned at her.

"It rained a lot this spring and summer," she explained, unable to keep the shame out of her voice when she continued, "Healthy food has gotten expensive."

It angered the underage wizard. Of course, this wasn't the Sister's fault, but he'd seen too many kids who started to eat 'junk' simply because everything else was too pricy. It wasn't fair.

"A friend of Professor Dumbledore will be joining me to the Centre in order to help me get my stuff for school. He'll be coming by this morning." He hadn't had the opportunity to tell this yet, which was why he said it as long as mayhem hadn't ensued the way it did every morning when breakfast was on the table and the rest of the children awake.

"Very well," Sister Margret said.

Harry helped her a bit, but as always she sent him away to 'relax a little.'

The hour before an average day began at Mary's Orphanage was the one hour that Harry had to himself (apart from the times he met with Kertak). He spent it in the garden whether it rained, snowed or when he was able to count the stars in the sky. He loved the sun, but the night was full of mysteries allowing him to hide from the world. It wasn't always without danger, but here, he felt safe.

He sat down beneath the tree and leaned on it closing his eyes. He was looking forward to seeing Diagon Alley again. It had been too long. But he was also nervous. For the first time, he wouldn't be a spectator but would have to interact with people. Usually, he'd merely met with Kertak and some of his kin, apart from Tom there were very few humans whom he was used to talking to.

He heard a light, scratching tone of something moving within the wood and smiled.

"Good morning, Truckle, already awake?" Truckle didn't show itself, but Harry knew it was there. He'd called it Truckle for Kertak had told him that it was a Bowtruckle, a tree-guardian. The creature was insanely shy, but Harry had dealt with shy beings all his life, which was why he could spot it every once in a while for he brought the necessary calm and patience to lure it out. What also helped was that he, too, liked this tree and regarded it as the yard's centre. He always told the others not to damage it when they were playing in the yard. A day after he'd first said it (about a week after his arrival), Truckle had showed its brown eyes for the first time. He'd been so surprised that he'd nearly fallen over.

More than four weeks after that, he saw it a second time. These days, he saw it more or less once a week. He always talked to it and the creature seemed to listen.

Sometimes.

Harry noticed that a flower next to him had started to whither. He carefully laid his hand over it and focused. He remembered sunlight touching his skin and tried to transfer that warmth into the flower.

It bloomed a moment later and Harry smiled wistfully. If only saving people was that simple…

He looked around and noticed that, although sunrise was approaching, it was still rather dark. At that, he focused on the flower once again. If he looked really hard he was able to see what he wanted… He focused on the changes necessary, imaged the picture he'd once seen in 'Frogs, Toads and other Amphibians indigenous to Europe'…A moment later, a small toad with a red belly jumped into the hand he'd used to cover the flower.

And his peers at Hogwarts were able to do this? Without having to focus, at all? Remarkable. It took all of his focus to keep up the transformation.

For he didn't want to drain himself, he placed the toad back where it came from and waved his hand away, causing the toad to turn back into a flower.

Daylight approached and he didn't dare to try anything else. Instead, he reached into his pocket and looked at his parents' picture again.

They'd seemed so happy, no idea that they wouldn't be able to celebrate their son's second birthday…

Before he could dwell on it for too long, he heard St Mary's Orphanage waking up.


Breakfast was much more fun than Harry had feared. Sara still looked sad, as were some of the little ones, but most of them were supportive. Gabriel didn't seem to be very hungry at first, but when he saw his protector chat so happily with Char, Alexandra and Sara, he couldn't bring himself to oppose to Harry's departure.

He'd miss him, however.

They were almost finished when the doorbell rang. Before Harry could say that it was for him, Christopher and Gabriel already rushed in order to open the door.

Harry had merely stood up by the time he heard the door open.

What followed was a terrified scream.

The underage wizard was at the door by the time Alexandra had managed to stand up.

In the doorway stood the largest man Harry had ever seen. He was quite sure that this man wouldn't fit through the doorway. His face wore a long, shaggy mane of black hair and a wild, tangled beard. His black eyes displayed kindness and good humour. Right now, he seemed utterly bewildered and ashamed.

He kneeled down seemingly with the intention of looking less terrifying, but utterly failed for he was still twice as tall as Sister Augustine and about eight times as wide. He looked pained as if there was no bigger crime than scaring small (or in the man's case, tiny) children.

Harry stepped forward and smiled. "Mr Hagrid, I assume?"

The black beetles that were his eyes caught Harry's gaze and they widened. "Yeh're real. Of course, Dumbledore is never wrong, but when he said… Yeh look like them. Saw yeh last when yeh was a baby."

The 'Quit the Gutter Talk' was on the tip of his tongue, although it sounded different. Mr Hagrid spoke in a Scottish accent, which sounded different from the slang they used on the streets, but it was close enough. It made Harry feel at home.

"Thank you for picking me up, sir."

This caused the gigantic man to chuckle. "No 'sir', Harry. Just call me Hagrid. Everyone does. Leave the formalities ter more importan' people."

Harry smiled. He'd definitely like this man. The large wizard reached into his pockets, some of which seemed to be alive somehow, and extracted a pocket-watch.

"Gallopin' Gorons. We've got ter go," then he looked at the group of children who regarded him wide-eyed, "…er…"

Harry looked back and saw the fear in their eyes. "May I introduce you? Everyone, this is Rubeus Hagrid, he will help me buy my stuff for school. Hagrid, these are… my fr… bro…sis… That crazy little bunch of people is my family." How on earth was he to explain their relationship to an outsider? But, his explanations seemed to be enough for the beard curled into an even wider smile.

"Nice ta meetcha, Hagrid," Char said, winking at Harry who shook his head with a smirking eye-roll.

"Back at yeh," was the good-humoured reply, "Let's go."

Harry looked down at his clean but rather ragged clothes. He'd never entered Diagon Alley as anything else but an observer and occasionally a beggar. He wasn't used to being a customer. Would his attire be accepted? These were his best clothes; he'd put them on purposely.

When he looked at Hagrid, he saw him smile kindly, "Don' worry. Yeh look just fine."

With that and a goodbye, they left St Mary's orphanage.

"So, Professor Dumbledore told me yeh been to Diagon Alley before. What's the fastest way?"

Harry had to think first. He usually walked there, but that nearly took three hours from St Mary's orphanage, which was one of the reasons why his visits to Diagon Alley had subsided for he'd lived nearby before.

Hesitating a little, he gave directions. An hour later, they entered London's centre and although some of his worst memories were created not far from here, he couldn't help but smile.

Home again!

St Mary's sheltered his family and he loved the house, but the streets of London's city were where he came from and his heart would always be attached to it. As soon as they entered his old hunting ground, he relaxed. It didn't matter for how long he was away, he was always welcomed back.

Hagrid asked him whether he knew this part of London well and Harry had simply been able to nod. This question he couldn't possibly be answered properly.

His eyes surveyed the 'old place.'

He wondered, not for the first time, if the busy crowd saw the world he came from or they were as oblivious as they sometimes seemed. When he saw that nine-year-old pickpocket reach into that rich lady's purse to steal her money while she looked into a shop window, he knew that they didn't.

Some did, though. The foreboding feeling of Coppers nearby overcame him and he whirled around only to see nobody else than Micah Cline. His eyes narrowed, anger coursed through him.

"Hagrid," he said forcing himself to sound happy instead of angry, "I just saw an old friend of mine. Why don't we meet in the Leaky Cauldron? Don't worry, I know this place better than most."

Very reluctantly, Hagrid complied. Tom's pub was merely a hundred yards from here, but he really didn't want to leave that child alone. On the other hand, ever since they'd crossed some sort of invisible line, Harry had grown much more confident, as if entering his personal territory.

"Don' want ter bother yer meeting, but here," he handed him what seemed like a roughly worked piece of wood, "It's a whistle. If yeh're in trouble, just blow and I'll be there."

For a moment, Harry couldn't speak. Time was urgent, but such a blatant offer for protection was rarely given, especially from an adult (adult human, at least, Natruk had been less blunt but about as straight-forward).

"Thanks," was all he could say.

Right after Hagrid had disappeared in the crowd (or at least, walked away for the man was too large to be unseen), Harry's eyes resumed to the young burglar. He wasn't experienced, Harry could tell, for the kid was reckless enough to remain and to steal another purse.

It was a stupid move for one successful theft was difficult enough, a second one unseen was nearly impossible.

Cline discovered the young thief. Harry's eyes widened. He quickly moved through the crowd, like a ghost, until he was beside the younger kid.

"Run! The Coppers are comin'" He whispered into the boy's ear whose owner flinched and stared at him. There were no questions needed.

The kid ran.

"Stop!" Harry heard Cline call. He looked after the burglar and it didn't take him long to see that he wasn't fast enough.

'You won't get that one, Cline,' he thought angrily and moved into the alley to his left.

He hadn't lied to Hagrid.

He knew the place better than anyone else, but he also knew some tricks. This particular alley had a dead-end. At least to those who didn't bother to look.

He quickly moved to the brick-stoned wall and pushed. The bricks moved aside and Harry entered another alley. Only this one possessed what he needed: a staircase leading to the roof. He climbed up quickly and was glad to notice that the much calmer life at St Mary's hadn't taken away much of his fitness. Once having reached the roof, he looked down and saw that Cline nearly caught up on the nameless kid for he was constantly approaching while the child was falling back.

Harry raced over the flat rooftop and jumped landing safely on the lowest point of the sloping roof belonging to the next house. He quietly ran across the uneven ground, nearly losing balance when one of the shingles stuck out and his foot barely managed to avoid it. This time he jumped, landing securely on the ground. While the others had to work themselves through the crowd he could avoid it merely by using abandoned alleys.

He rushed into the alley straight ahead of him. If he passed that without losing much time, he'd be able to hide the kid before Cline got to him. But there was a stonewall and they didn't move as willingly as the bricks.

"Please!" He whispered, "Please, work!" While he was running straight at the stonewall, he lifted his hand and drew one of the runes Kertak had showed him: transparency.

Either he'd crush into the wall and the kid would be caught or… He stumbled into the next alley nearly using balance.

"In here!" he hissed when the child he was trying to help rushed across the lane he'd used as escape -route.

He was glad to see that the kid recognized him to be the person that had warned him for he obeyed immediately.

"Trashcan," he ordered while opening it. The young burglar didn't ask, he simply jumped right in.

The moment the can was closed, Cline arrived.

"Got you! I… Harry?" The underage wizard's heart grew cold. There were few people whom he hated, but Micah Cline was one of them.

"I… How… Where is… I…" Why was he stuttering like this? It irritated Harry even more. He should have enough backbone to face his mistakes.

"Long time no see, Micah." Few of those who knew him would believe that he was capable of speaking so venomously. His emerald eyes for once looked like green pieces of icicles glimmering darkly in the dusky light of the alley.

"Where…?"

Harry laughed coldly, a sound that shouldn't come from a kid his age, "You're more of a fool than I thought. If you believe that I'll tell you that." Cline walked towards the trashcan, but Harry stepped in between.

"Don't." He didn't want to hurt people, not even that man, but he'd do it without hesitation if necessary.

"I'm still a cop, Harry," Cline warned, but he hardly bore looking into the accusing face of the boy, "Threatening me isn't a good idea."

"Eleven-year-olds generally don't tend to threaten Coppers much. I'm unarmed, after all."

Cline took another step and Harry tensed. This wouldn't end well if he didn't stop this right now.

"You owe me," he hissed coldly, "You owe them! Four years, Cline! You didn't check in on us, not once! But you kept bringing them, didn't you. To the gate, but no further, right? We were kids, Cline, not criminals to be put behind bars. You could've checked." The last sentence was whispered, but Cline flinched as if he'd screamed.

"I…" It didn't touch Harry that his voice cracked. But it wasn't as satisfying as he'd expected, "Forgive me, I know I failed you, all of you. I'm sorry."

"Forgive you? When hell freezes over, maybe. Oh no, wait. You see, hell does freeze over and it's dark and cold. You try to warm up, but you just can't stop your body from shivering. Hell's fire and ice, it either burns you or freezes you, but You… Just… Can't… Get… Warm!" He felt the bricks of the wall crack and breathed out for he didn't want destroy anything, not even that person who'd subjected him to hell.

"Get outta here! Just… go! Catch the real criminals, not some kids who want to get their food," he said turning away.

He heard Cline walk away, but then the steps were heard no longer.

"I'm always checking now, always. I just wanted you to have the chance to find a family. But I failed you and for that I'll always be sorry." The words were a mere whisper and Harry closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to get rid off the emotions that threatened to drown him.

"Good," was all he could say. He'd hated the man for four years. To know he'd changed was good, but he wasn't ready to let go off his righteous anger just yet. Maybe, he hadn't known, but he sure as hell hadn't cared what happened to them, either.

"You been to Hell?" The kid asked while he descended the trash can, after he'd made sure that the Copper was gone.

Harry merely nodded.

"That was one stupid move," Harry chastised the boy, "Never steal twice at the same place!"

The boy ducked his head, "Sorry."

The eleven-year-old softened at the sight of the miserable kid. "It's okay. Just don't repeat it. Look, I've got to go. Bye! Take care of yourself."

"Bye."

Harry hurried back. He didn't want Hagrid to wait for him.

There it was, that tiny pub called the Leaky Cauldron. He'd never entered Diagon Alley through the pub and felt sudden apprehension. He was looking forward to seeing Tom again, but everybody else…

Quietly, he entered the pub and surveyed the dark, shabby however clean place. It was a bit crowded today and Harry was glad about it for people tended to be a lot less observant when many people surrounded them.

He recognized Hagrid rather quickly, but that wasn't particularly hard. He was answering questions some of the customers asked him, but mainly he talked to Tom.

Hesitantly, Harry approached them.

Tom was the one who saw him first and he brightened at the sight of him. He opened his mouth to say something, but Hagrid interrupted.

"Harry, this is Tom, the owner of the place. Tom, this is Harry Potter, James' and Lily's son," Hagrid introduced them.

"We've met," Harry said quietly and looked at Tom apprehensively. The almost bald wizard displayed an honest surprise before he confirmed Harry's statement without giving anything away. When they left the pub, Hagrid asked him how they'd gotten to know each other.

"He used to help me out when I came here." Harry was a bit evasive, but that was understandable, Hagrid thought. He too, had his secrets and it would be wrong to pry, "I'll pay him back as soon as I'm able."

They entered the magical alley. No matter how many times he'd watched it or had walked through it in the company of Kertak, it was still fantastic to see the place.

His heart rate started to increase since everything would be different starting today, he realized when they approached Gringotts' main entrance.

He stopped dead.

"Harry, are yeh alrigh'? Thought yeh knew Gringotts. Dumbledore alluded ter somethin'. Trouble with the goblins?" He sounded very worried when he asked the last question.

"No, no," Harry replied immediately, "Kertak is my friend and I like Natruk, no, that's not it. It's just… The main entrance is for…"

He nearly laughed, when he realized he'd nearly said 'wand-carriers'. He was one, too!

"I usually entered it sideways, along with Kertak. I've never been in the Tosa Lei… The vast hall for the customers," he explained when he saw Hagrid looking a bit confused.

Hagrid smiled at him, "Yeh're one of a kind, aren't yeh? Come, and don' worry."

Together, they walked upstairs. The goblin (he didn't know him) in the entrance bowed formally. It included 'welcome', 'honourable' and 'customer'. Harry bowed in return displaying 'greetings', 'honourable' and 'guard'. He wasn't very professional with the bows yet which was why he spoke additionally, "Rukaikan, trac kandril. dàio." The 'thank you' he added for he'd been welcomed into a goblin's house.

Surprised, the guard looked at him and added another bowing form he didn't know. He was almost forced to ask when the goblin smiled a little, "saràn y kra."

Ah, 'goblin-friend.' He wasn't often called this, it was a term reserved for respected… and here it was again… 'wand-carrier' was on the top of his mind.

Harry bowed, wishing him a good day and they entered. For the first time, the underage wizard saw the famous warning:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware,

Of finding more than treasure there.

Meanwhile, Hagrid looked at Harry in awe. They passed a pair of goblins who were quite startled when Harry greeted them with a bow.

"I should let yeh talk, I guess," His beard curled into a smile, "I sometimes believe they see me a big oaf. I'm a little…" He was looking down at his large hands, "… I guess they don't like my manners much."

Harry looked up at Hagrid. He didn't want the man to feel bad. He was a good person and it had to be hard to never have completed his education (Hagrid had told him that he'd been expelled without going into details).

He knew what it was like to watch the magical community without feeling yourself to be magical enough to belong to it.

"Goblins respect those who try, Hagrid," he said as they approached the Vanric Kandril, the Honourable Counsellor. One of the highest positions a goblin was able to obtain in Gringotts' main seat in London. Harry didn't know much about goblin's hierarchy, but that much he knew. Only the smartest and magically strongest amongst 'common kin' were allowed to directly deal with wizards' money by counselling the customers. The Vanric Kandril was the most important consultant of them all. He was known to have a brilliant mind, which was necessary since it was his job to coordinate everything that occurred in Tosa Lei. The rest of the counsellors were called Vanrica. "You don't have to be perfectly polite, simply show that you respect them, in your way."

Harry looked around. About a hundred goblins were working here, some of them were called Meràs ('truth') and it was their job to certificate whether the jewellery and precious stones, paintings and ancient documents were authentic or not, others Harry recognized to be apprentices to either the Meràs or the Vanrica. The Vanrica's offices were behind the countless doors where they were helping the Wizarding World safe and invest their worldly goods.

Harry had never personally met Vanric Kandril, but to see what he had to do filled him with greatest respect for the goblin sitting behind a large desk. Hagrid walked straight at his desk before Harry could protest.

It would be very impolite to approach Vanric Kandril as long as several Vanrica were free.

"Hagrid, just ask him which Vanrica would be suitable for our business, then you state it." Hagrid looked at him rather puzzled, but he obliged.

They halted in front of the desk.

Hagrid bowed a little clumsily, but it was heartfelt and honest since he truly respected the goblins (was wary of them, even). "Hello… er…We've come ter 'unfreeze' the Potter vaults since … Well, Harry Potter is still alive. And I was sent by Professor Dumbledore ter claim the content of another vault… May I ask which 'vatica' would be suitable for our business?" Harry had to suppress a laugh. Hagrid had just asked which goat was suitable for their business. But he'd tried and that was all one could ask for. Apparently, the Vanric Kandril thought so as well for he smiled.

"May I see Headmaster Dumbledore's letter?" Hagrid handed it over and it was read very carefully.

"That seems to be in order. Griphook will show you to your vault, sir, while I take care of the identification of Mr Potter and, should it be confirmed, ordering access to his vaults. Griphook." Harry was so stunned, he hardly had time to greet Griphook whom he'd met once or twice. A very earnest but good-hearted goblin who was easy to talk to.

"Please, follow me, Mr Potter," Vanric Kandril said and led them to a small-looking door right behind his desk.

Harry bowed a little for he didn't trust his own words.

When he entered, it surprised him deeply to see Natruk sitting behind a desk apparently writing a letter. He looked up and smiled immediately when he saw the child enter. Harry quickly walked to the generous goblin whom he regarded as somewhat an uncle.

"Natruk!" Due to his lack of height, he wasn't forced to crouch down too much, but could simply embrace the goblin who returned the gesture. "How are you, sir?" Although their actions spoke of friendship, Harry had always spoken rather respectfully with Natruk for Kertak had always shown deep respect for his elder.

"Fine, Harry. And Kertak told me that you have been invited to Hogwarts. That is very good. May I know why you're here?"

Vanric Kandril seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he explained that they were here to verify Mr Potter's identity. Kertak nodded, "I will get the necessary supplies immediately, leica." Only a minute later he arrived with a small bowel that was covered in Runes, half of which Harry had never seen in his life.

Natruk handed his apparent master (Harry had no idea that Natruk was so highly positioned) a small knife, it's handle carried two runes, but Harry didn't recognize them either. Then, Natruk drew a circle on the ground and wrote 'Potter' three times in the Rune alphabet right outside the line. Meanwhile, Vanric Kandril got what seemed to be a personal document and drew several symbols inside and outside of the circle.

When they were finished, the Honourable Counsellor asked him to step inside, to take the knife and to cut into his left thumb. The blood should fall into the bowl and if it started to glow, he was a 'Potter', if it didn't, he wasn't.

Harry was very nervous when he did as he was told. What if he wasn't Harry Potter after all? Despite what had been said. What if…

But all 'what if's were in vain for the bowl glistened white and Harry laughed happily. He truly was Harry Potter.

Natruk laid a hand on his shoulder, which resulted in yet another embrace by the underage wizard.

He let go off the goblin when he heard Vanric Kandril clearing his throat. He was asked to sit down and Natruk's master explained, "Mr Potter, you are the only heir of the Potter heirloom which consists of the Potter Mansion and Godric's Hollow though the latter has been destroyed ten years ago. Also, you are in possession of several goods, paintings and jewellery that are all placed in one of the three safety vaults at Gringotts. Without a proper guardian, you will not be allowed to access any of them before you turn seventeen. However, there is the fourth vault that belonged to your parents personally, and after their death you inherited it. It is now at your disposal. Your aunt would have had access, but she never used it. When you were proclaimed dead all vaults were frozen and nobody had access to them. The steward of the Potter Mansion is a very trusted employee of Gringotts, Terkin. Of course, you may meet him and apply your wishes, but before you turn of age you are not allowed to move in without a guardian."

"I trust Terkin to know what he's doing. I have one wish, though. Should there be house-elves… I have no wish to keep a slave," Kertak had always tried to avoid that rather dark topic of the Wizarding Community, but Harry had of course heard about it. He detested slavery and would never approve of it. He knew what it was like when your life wasn't quite your own. Absently, he rubbed his left wrist, which was covered by a watch, one of the few possessions he had.

Natruk smiled at him.

"As far as I know," the counsellor said, "Your father has already freed them, but they have decided to stay with your family." He looked at his notes and raised his eyebrows, "Apparently, there's quite a story behind it." He handed the note to Natruk who read it and stifled an amused laughter.

"Natruk?"

"Well, your father has freed them when he was a child, by accident. He'd wanted to play with them and that somehow included the part where they'd been obliged to wear late Mr Potter's, your grandfather's, violet cloak. He was ten, by the time, and nobody was able to tell whether he did it on purpose or not…" Harry smiled fondly.

Then he looked up, suddenly stricken with what he'd been told. He owned a mansion and four vaults at Gringotts? That he could access only one of them wasn't an issue.

"Is it allowed to donate money to non-magical humans?" he suddenly asked Natruk's master. If he already possessed money, his family should get some of it.

"Yes, of course. The gold will be changed into any currency you ask."

"Then, how much can I donate from the vault I have access to without risking to expire it before I'm of age?"

"That entirely depends on your expenses…"

Harry did some quick thinking. He didn't know how much he'd have to spend for Hogwarts, but he'd need some fresh clothing in about a year which he would buy in second-hand shops, food shouldn't be a problem at school, maybe some additional reading…

"What an average student spends for seven years at Hogwarts plus… I don't know… a thousand pounds a year?"

The Honourable Counsellor looked at him, "And everything else you want to donate?"

"Well, yes. If there's anything left."

"Left would be about fifteen thousand Galleons per annum."

Harry's eyes widened. That was quite a bit of money.

"What's the current exchange rate?"

"One Galleon is currently worth five pounds."

Oh. Well…

He possessed a fortune. It was hard to put your mind around that idea, especially if you remembered every day your stomach had growled these past eleven years.

"I'd like to donate some money to St Mary's orphanage," he said before he got lost in his thoughts completely.

"How much have you had in mind?" Vanric Kandril (at that point, he realized that he still didn't know his name) asked not questioning his decision.

"Enough, so they have enough food, can buy some new clothing and do some repairs…" Harry started unsurely, but Natruk interrupted.

"Child, don't worry. I will take care of it, personally. Your vault will not be emptied, but they will receive what is needed. Let me do the calculations, please."

Harry immediately agreed. He trusted Natruk to do what was right.

"Thank you. For now, I think it'd be best if you would be seen to your vault, so you can get some money, but should you have any questions, you may contact me directly or through Kertak."


Sometime later, Harry was back in the marble hall, his bag full of wizard money. He caught up with Hagrid who had acquired what Professor Dumbledore wanted and who'd recovered from his ride on the rattling cart. They were chatting when Harry suddenly felt something solid connect with his feet. A bucket filled with cleaning devices was knocked over in the process. The old goblin who had been kneeling on the ground cleaning the floor with a brush looked at him wide-eyed.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said, immediately got down on his knees and helped picking up the brushes and cloths that had been spreading the floor, "I didn't watch where I was going." His mind had been elsewhere which wasn't very fair to the janitor.

"Hush, young one," the rough voice of the old goblin was rather deep. He sounded like a great storyteller, "No need to rush. Thank you for helping me… 'tis rare to have a human join me on the ground."

Harry smiled at that. "Well, I guess most people are not clumsy enough to run over your things…"

"More than you'd think." It didn't sound wistful. Just sad.

"Don't be bothered with people's blindness. They tend to oversee what's right in front of them." He was a kid of the streets. He knew what it was like.

"Someone might be able to teach them," the old goblin replied, "I am Shihdinî, but you may call me Péosh." Sometimes, they did that, the goblins. They first gave away their position in goblin's community before they said their names. However, he'd never heard the title Shidinî before.

"Nice to meet you," he said bowing a little indicating what he'd said, "My name's Harry…" He wanted to give his full name but stopped when he felt someone approach from behind. He tensed up getting ready to fight if necessary. His instincts warned him rarely so blatantly.

Suddenly, a booted foot knocked the old, humped goblin over. Harry caught him before he fell face-over on the ground.

"Well, well, well," a sneering voice whispered, "These floors should be taken care of much more carefully. There's so much filth on it and we wouldn't want to put the entire goblin race to shame by having stale Gringotts Headquarters, now, would we? It would be very embarrassing for the entire Magical World of Great Britain."

Harry looked up, his eyes narrowed in barely suppressed anger. In front of them stood a tall man (though next to Hagrid who clearly looked disgusted, he seemed rather small), had a pale, pointed face and cold, grey eyes. His hair was pale-blond and his stance upright and proud. It took Harry one second to know that this was a rich, influential wizard, the type he'd never been able to stand. They were arrogant, caught up on their own importance and though they had money, they wouldn't even think of spending it generously unless it was for selfish reasons.

Something didn't fit into the picture, though. And that was his left arm. There was a mark… He couldn't tell what it was, but there was a mark beneath the black cloak he was wearing. He'd taken it willingly and was now forced to hide, but he was proud of it.

Harry wondered what the mark meant since it wasn't the same as his own… Subconsciously, he rubbed his wrist that was covered by his watch.

Why would a rich man carry a mark? Accepting it willingly even, given by someone who had power over him…

"Dear me, has the service here subsided so much that human help is required to clean the floor?" Harry's eyes snapped back looking straight into a cold, pale grey pair. That was enough! Nobody spoke of the goblins with such disrespect, not while he was around. He stood up, but not without helping Péosh first.

"Better yer leave now, Malfoy," Hagrid said coldly practically vibrating with anger. At that, the man turned around looking up into the gigantic man's face.

"Mr Hagrid," he spoke the 'mister' in such a condescending manner, it would've been better hadn't he said it at all, "It is always a questionable pleasure to meet you, but I believe that you aren't in the position of ordering me around."

Hagrid took a threatening step towards the smaller wizard who gripped his walking stick tightly and Harry was suddenly aware that it was about as much a walking stick as Hagrid's umbrella (which he'd used to enter Diagon Alley). His new friend might look like it, but he wasn't a violent man. He might leave bruises on those who aggravated him, but that was all. This Malfoy character on the other hand… He was much more collected, however, judging by the look in his eyes, he was ready to kill… Immediately, Harry stepped in between them and wordlessly told Hagrid to back off. Thankfully, he listened to him.

"I thought it was the Deputy Headmistress' job to introduce Muggles into the Magical World," it was remarkable how he managed to say 'Muggle' the same way he'd called Hagrid 'mister,' "I'm glad to notice that the headmaster has finally seen sense and decided to have them introduced by their equal."

"''t is a shame that you shan't see

for all thy purity

forbids you to glimpse clarity.'" Harry recited calmly. This was a fight of wits and he wouldn't let him win, "Surely, Avalàu, the Thestral, thought of something else than certain wizards' narrow-mindedness concerning the so-called purity of blood when he sang to Nacàlia, the unicorn, whom he fell in love with but who was never able to see him for she'd never spotted death. But it works on this one, too."

He managed not to grin in triumph when the tall man stared at him in disbelief, but merely lifted his eyebrows.

"I will not waste my time discussing ancient poetry with an impertinent brat who hasn't learnt his proper place in the Magical World." Without another word, he turned away from them and walked towards the exit. A moment later, he was gone.

Harry turned to Péosh, "I have this need to apologize for my fellow-wizard's behaviour…"

"Don't bother, my dear child," Péosh smiled, "It's been a while since I last heard the tale of Nacàlia and Avalàu."

"Kertak, a friend of mine, told me the story."

"And a very good thing, he did, I'd say. It is nice to see that the young ones are still hung up on the old stories." He chuckled good-humouredly.

"There's nothing better than a good tale next to a warming fire in a cold winter night," Harry replied returning the smile.

"Indeed. Well, young Harry. I believe you lingered in Gringotts for quite a while. If you want to obtain all of your acquisitions today, it is time for you to leave. I hope to see you again."

"Likewise, Péosh. It was a pleasure to meet you." At that, he bowed formally the way the young goblins did towards elders.

Accompanied by Hagrid, he left the Wizard Bank.


Last chapter was short, this one's long... It's all in a balance :-)

The second and last part of this chapter (Harry getting his wand will be one of the scenes) will be posted on Sunday or Monday...

Thank you very much for all the encouraging reviews and everybody who put me on story alert or marked it as favorite story.

Special thanks to vshnth, bookworm19065, In the Mix, tsuanyue, hash4uall, missme, Oceanfur and Scandinavian Shipper.

bookworm19065: Imagine it as an extremly difficult variation of the Summoning charm for Dumbledore didn't have that picture in his pocket.