―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――
Connie looked pretty much the same as the last time Heather had seen her, and she was just as accommodating as ever. The first thing she did was pull them aside, shrink their trunk down to the size of a matchbox, and slip it into her purse.
"I am so jealous." Harry muttered to Heather as they boarded the train.
"There." Connie said as she withdrew a rolled up newspaper from her bag and discretely tapped it with her wand. Heather felt the static-like feeling wash over her and Connie tucked the paper inside the curve of the edge of the bench seat. "Now we may speak freely." She smiled at the twins as she refitted her wand into her sleeve.
The twins were sitting across from her, as the train they were on held sets of mirrored booths, and they had commandeered an empty set all for themselves.
"First of all, a bit of background and general information. Then questions!" She said with a pointed smile at Heather.
Heather felt she should be embarrassed at the little notepad she had whipped out that held questions she and Harry had come up with, most especially over the past several days, but she felt none.
'Overkill is underrated, my friend.' She thought primly as Harry began to snigger beside her.
"First of all, we are heading the main shopping district for the Isles. There are a few others, but they are mostly small operations, like Hogsmeade, which is near Hogwarts." Connie informed them briskly, producing a map from nowhere and having it unfold with a wave of her wand. "The district was established in 1665, by the Ministry for Magic, in preparation for the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy." She smiled at them rather wryly. "You'll find, that with the proper upkeep and magic, things last quite a while in the gifted world. However, an area with so many gifted gathered together is bound to have some troubles with magical residue or spell build up, given the sheer number of people involved. That is the reason many of the buildings might seem dingy or unkempt to a casual observer from the other side, but I assure you that the majority of them are quite safe."
Huh. That explained quite a bit, actually.
"Now, the space is very gifted in design. The street we will enter- and the name for the over district- is Diagon Alley." Connie grinned at the twins' snort of disbelief. "Oh, it gets worse! Gifted tend to be very tongue-in-cheek, sometimes! "At any rate, Diagon is where most Hogwarts students shop, and they are a very general sort of collection of businesses."
'Note to self, get a map.' Heather thought with a grimace as she looked at Connie's map. 'Alley' was sort of misleading, as Heather could see at least twenty structures, some with multiple names that all shifted around and made her head spin a bit. 'Or you will get lost and never be found.'
Connie tapped the map and it moved, to show a tennis racket shaped street, to the left and down a little from Diagon. "Horizont Alley is where things like the grocer or the apothecary, or perhaps the smaller bookstores. There is also a fair few flats there. Mostly rentals." Another tap brought them up a bit, to a lopsided rectangle looking street. "Directly north of Horizont, is Vertick Alley. That is where you would find private Healer practices, law firms, and the like. A lot of the Wizengamot or Old Families- like the Potters- have offices here." She tapped the map one more time and brought them back to the right of the original Diagon map. "Whimsic Alley is mostly a higher-end version of Diagon, though that is where a lot of the specialist stores are located, as well."
Heather had thought they were done, but she guessed not.
Connie sighed heavily and tapped the map again, bringing them to a straight line that ran from the top of Vertick to the furthest point of Whimsic. "Knockturn Alley is considered a…slum, I suppose." Connie gave them a firm glare over the edge of her glasses. "Now, many of the stores are just as fine as any of the others, but the taverns like to serve less than upstanding folk, and it is dangerous to travel, especially at night. Or alone."
She gave Heather a meaningful look.
'Noted.' Heather thought somewhat apprehensively. Not in the least bit of hurry to poke her nose into a dangerous situation before she had at least a year or two of magical schooling under her belt and her brother to watch her back.
From the way Harry's lips had turned downwards, he had apparently caught the message as well.
Heather had never seen the point of lying about how dangerous the world could be. She wanted Harry to have a well-rounded worldview! So she had explained all the strange 'advice' that she had been given over the years by random women. Some were things she agreed with, while others were things she passionately disagreed with, but she and Harry had discussed them all. The braiding incident had only fueled his curiosity about the understanding gender roles and why they existed.
He'd nearly died laughing when he found out that heeled shoes were originally worn by men and that the women, of the time, had taken to wearing them to seem more 'masculine' and therefore more capable.
"Now then!" Connie chirped cheerfully, tapping the map with her wand and handing the folded up parchment to Heather. "That is yours to keep, dear. At the very end of Diagon, is Gringotts Bank, which will be our first stop of the day. I expect it to take quite a while, so I brought a book. I have arranged for you to stay at the inn that is at the opposite end of Diagon from the entrance, nearly in Horizont, the Singing Siren. The Leaky Cauldron is also an inn, but it sees a fair bit more traffic, as it hosts not only the public entrance to Diagon from London proper, it is used as the closest destination for those gifted traveling by Floo- we'll get to that!- and it is also one of the more popular gifted pubs. The Singing Siren costs a bit more, but…"
"Yeah, we'd rather stay there." Harry piped up from beside Heather. "Heather-feather can only deal with so many people in one day."
"As can we all, dear." Connie said rather wryly. "Now, Gringotts is owned and operated by the Stoneblood Nation, who are colloquially known as Goblins." Connie waved her wand and a smoky picture appeared.
The being stood about as tall as a Year One student, with slightly lumpy skin, long spindly fingers ended with sharp talons, a rather pronounced, angled nose, and piercing, attentive dark eyes.
"The gifted governments of the Isles has a long history of conflict with the Stoneblood Nation, and even to this day their relations remain….contentious." Connie smiled to the twins rather sardonically. "The Stoneblood are charged with the financial matters of more than a few gifted nations, and hold nearly a quarter of the seats on the Council for Financial Matters, at the ICW. Despite the laws that strip them of their right to bear wands, they are quite formidable."
There was a certain amount of disparagement in her tone as Connie continued, though Heather could see the woman was trying to be objective as possible.
Heather empathized with her struggle. On a personal level.
Connie grimaced lightly. "Truthfully, the Stoneblood never had much use for wands, but the Ministry for Magic's history of denying them this basic right is the crux of the issue. As anyone who is unable to legally bear wand is considered to be….. less than a full citizen by the laws of the land in the Isles."
'Well, that certainly explained a lot about the cultural misunderstandings and miscommunications in the books.' Heather thought with a grimace.
"Forgive me, my personal thoughts on the matter are clouding my information." Connie apologized primly, before going on to add, in a more optimistic tone. "My main advice is for you to never refer to them as 'Goblins' and to treat them in the same manner as you would any other banker. You two, as Potters, are likely to have a Manager, instead of a nominal Curator. At least according to my research."
"They sound like two completely different things." Harry piped up curiously. "One sounds like a banker, and the other sounds like….a pet store owner or zookeeper or something."
Heather poked her brother lightly in the side, causing him to blush a little, but Connie just beamed at them.
"There is a very distinct difference, dear." Connie confided warmly. "A Manager is Stoneblood whose direct family line has dealt with your family's holdings since the Statute was implemented or even before- the Stoneblood's financial acuity and formidable mastery of earthen magics are not a new concept whatsoever- regardless of any conflicts that arose afterwards. The Stoneblood are a warrior race, so please do keep in mind that to declare themselves as the Managers for the Potter family- and therefore neutral, as a matter of course- there had to have been an incredible amount of trust and good faith between the pact makers."
The next bit of time sort of blurred for Heather as Connie explained the Floo, why the entrance to the Alley was in the pub- "Security, dears. The pub supplies an extra layer and would buy the Alley extra time in the event they were discovered."- and that Hogwart's tuition was paid for by the Ministry for Magic, and anyone claiming otherwise was a scam artist.
It was apparently a very popular scam and tended to target those who showed a lack of familiarity with how the gifted world worked.
The opaque illustrations she made out of thin air were really cool, though. Heather totally couldn't want to learn how to do stuff like that!
'People are people, wherever you go, I suppose.' Heather thought somewhat fatalistically.
"So, I guess my first question is about the money?" Heather asked once Connie had gone silent and turned an expectant gaze towards her. "Your letter mentioned Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons, but some perspective, maybe?"
Connie smiled warmly. "You are truly a quick-witted young lady, dear."
Heather smiled back at the woman, but she was well aware of the fact that she was just an old enough to appreciate the value of a fairly unbiased information source when entering an unknown situation.
"A galleon is worth seventeen sickles, and twenty nine knuts make up a sickle." Connie told them, waving her wand around to show them a slightly transparent conversion chart. "In order to prevent gifted from taking advantage of normal currency exchange rates, due to the vast amount of difference between worlds and their relative costs of living, a galleon exchanged for normal currency is fixed at five pounds. To prevent abuse of the system."
'Ouch.' Heather thought with a wince. 'No wonder the books didn't have much crossover. I don't know what a galleon is worth, but it seemed like a whole lot more than five pounds!'
Connie gave Heather and Harry each a long, serious look. "I would advise you to not to attempt to circumvent Gringotts and try to spend galleons at non-gifted shops. Nor should you attempt to have the gifted currency sold for their metals. Gringotts Bank has its own special brand of magic, and while there is the occasional case of accidental mix ups, they are not kind to thieves. Which is what both of those situations would fall under. Bear in mind that the Bank has sole jurisdiction in such cases, due to more than just a single treaty."
"Noted." Heather replied promptly, scribbling down an annotated answer.
"Now that you both understand that." Connie continued in a much lighter voice. "The literal value of a galleon, according to the Council for Financial Matters, is, currently, approximately twenty-five pounds. That means a sickle is worth roughly a pound and a half, so do keep that in mind. I know the coins are sometimes difficult for some newly introduced gifted to see as 'real' money, but I implore you to remember that the lack of crisp paper bills does not mean the coins aren't roughly the same! For instance, holding just four galleons in your pocket is the equivalent of four twenty pound notes!"
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Heather said as she and Harry shared a look.
Heather had a whole notebook full of ideas on how to expand their inheritance. Once she got a grip on how the twins stood on financial matters in the gifted world, she was going to send Gramps some suggestions for their little bank account.
She wanted to have a much better idea of how things worked on the gifted side, in terms of money or supplies, before she committed their bank account money to long-term, high-yield investments. She wouldn't tie up all their no-strings-attached money, of course, but she wasn't just going to let it sit idle either!
Heather had contingency plans to put into motion, dammit!
"Ok. Next question. What should we buy in Diagon Alley and what can we buy in London? Like pens and notebooks and such." Heather asked, intensely curious as to the answer.
"Quills or the more expensive fountain-style pens, and relatively heavy parchment are used for a reason, dear." Connie told them with a small, amused grin playing about her lips. "I'm afraid that using normal things- such as lead pencils, ballpoint pens, or notebook paper- would not be plausible for you to use for your schoolwork. While you could likely get by with some of the more expensive papers and a nice, gifted-made pen for your notes, I'm afraid this is one of those things that seemed illogical at first glance, but has good reason for still being in practice."
"It has something to do with our magic, doesn't it?" Harry said more than asked.
Her baby was so smart!
"Indeed it does. Using quills- which are made from animal feathers and treated in special potions- and heavy parchment allows the writer's magic to, naturally, blend into the ink. Creating a unique imprint that holds better in thicker, treated parchment. You'll learn more about this at school, of course, but the simplest explanation is that the magic the writer leaves behind- in the ink, which then bonds with the parchment, especially when spelled dry by the writer- is what a spell latches onto." Connie took out her pen and a small scrap of parchment. "Heather dear, please give me a word that you have written down there."
"Uhh….money?" Heather said, caught somewhat off-guard.
Connie merely nodded and used the arm of her bench as a makeshift writing desk. Once she was finished her pen disappeared back into her purse and she handed Harry the scrap of parchment.
"Now, I am going to use a very simple word search spell, one that most First Year students are taught. Observe." Connie waved her wand a few times and about a second later the word she had written on the parchment glowed brightly while the magic of the spell just washed over Heather's notepad, inert. "As you can see, the spell found the word written with my pen, while the words written on your notepad were ignored."
"Huh. Neat." Was the twins' general consensus, Harry pouting a little when the word on his scrap of parchment died back down to a normal, flat black. "I take it you mentioned notebooks with thicker paper for stuff like notes?"
"Indeed. It would need to be fairly high quality, much like a sketchbook. I'm afraid mass-produced notebook paper and the like are far too thin and….processed, to hold onto magic." Connie winked at Heather. "But, if it wouldn't stress your resources, I can show you a place to buy a few pens so you needn't bother with quills. Many people like quills well enough, but I find the grips on the pens to be easier on my hands. And the ink cartridges the pens require are much tidier, in my humble opinion." Connie's grin turned a bit sharper. "And the pens are made much the same way as a wand, though not nearly as precise, of course. But using one or two of them exclusively imbeds your magical signature into it quite firmly, which drastically increases the…hm, imprint you leave behind. Makes it much more difficult for someone to try and forge your script, even if they use your pen."
"Duly noted." Heather muttered as she scribbled down notes
Helpful information, that.
They had to stop there, as the train had arrived at the station.
It didn't take them long to find a taxi and so they were headed towards The Leaky Cauldron.
Heather and Harry spent most of the time gawking, honestly.
They had been to London a fair few times with their tennis team or for school, or just on day trips with the Pritchards, but London was huge, and there was plenty of things that were interesting to them.
Connie actually knew quite a few tidbits about London, and the cabbie laughed several times at her anecdotes.
Before Heather knew it, they were there.
Well, close.
"I'm going to place a charm on the two of you that will suggest that you aren't worth a second glance." Connie smiled sympathetically at Harry. "I'm afraid you're rather well known, Harry, and I'd rather it not take a full fortnight to get into the shopping area."
"I wholeheartedly agree, Madam Connie." Harry told the woman with a rueful grin. "We tried to dress a little less like twins because the Headmaster's letter he left with Aunt Petunia mentioned something like that."
Connie frowned for a moment, her lips tugging downwards and her forehead creasing in displeasure before she smoothed out her expression and smiled. "That was very thoughtful of you, dears."
They walked another block to the pub- which was just as dingy and dismal on the inside as Heather had imagined it to be, though Tom the Bartender had seemed cheerful enough- quickly, and in short order Connie had led them to the brick wall with the lone trashcan next to it.
Heather was amazed by the brick wall parting like a curtain and revealing the quaint little shopping district. It was amazing, and maybe for the first time Heather truly appreciated the reality bending abilities of having magic. There was no film crew or fancy computer editing, Connie had caused a brick wall to fold in on itself, neatly creating a doorway with a few light taps from a wooden stick.
But the best part was Harry's excited face.
His cheeks were adorably flushed under his tan, and his eyes were extra wide. His lips were pulled into a silent 'o' as he just stood there and stared.
It was one of the most beautiful things Heather had ever seen.
There was a pang in her heart, though. Because they weren't just entering a new world, they were starting a new chapter in their lives. And Harry- well, her baby was going to make friends. The best kind of friends, and while she would always be his sister, he wouldn't really need her anymore.
For the briefest of moments, Heather wished that they had been born normal, in a world without magic.
It was a shitty thing to think, she knew and she firmly quashed the thought.
Heather was happy Harry would meet the sorts of friends that would stand on a broken leg to protect him from a crazy convict or feed an abusive teacher to centaurs for him.
She was.
She had lamented their lack of friends their entire childhood. They had been friendly enough with classmates or fellow tennis players, but they had always been a bit different. A bit odd, and so they had only really ever had each other, as peers.
Heather blinked back the tears, chiding herself for even thinking such depressing things when she had so many other things to do.
When Harry was so close to everything she had ever wanted for him.
She just hadn't realized the moment of truth would hurt quite this much.
'Stop that.' She told herself firmly as Connie ushered them through and the wall knit itself back together behind them. 'You still have work to do. He's not free to live the life he deserves just yet. You'll have plenty of time to ponder your lonely existence later.'
―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――
The first thing that came to mind when Heather looked around the Alley was a fish market.
There were stores, of course. Mostly buildings made of dark wood, with thick panes of frosted glass, and elegant writing etched onto boards that swung lightly in the midsummer breeze. The stores seemed to come in square, triangular, and octagon, with small spaces in between that were filled with what could only be termed as hot-dog-stand styled mini stores.
Complete with people haggling loudly, which was where the fish market comparison came from.
The adorably old-fashioned cobblestones beneath her shoes were somehow cool, and it had to be at least ten degrees cooler than it had been back in London proper.
Stepping out from the wall, there was a sort of square directly out into the middle, and then two lanes of stores that surrounded them. The colors of the cobblestones were mostly a worn, tanned brown, but there were foot-wide sections that branched off in three different colors- "Red for Vertick; blue for Horizont; and then that orange-gold will lead you to for Whimsic." –and even from the entrance, Heather could see the pristine white what she assumed was Gringotts Bank shining near the end of the lengthy rows of businesses.
The twins didn't manage to look too closely at anything, as Connie efficiently hustled them through the crowds and towards the end of the street.
Gringotts Bank was truly an amazing sight to behold.
It reminded Heather of the majesty of Erebor, from the Hobbit movies, honestly. Stone, gems, and metals masterfully blended into something that seemed to be a little too otherworldly to actually exist.
'I wonder if Tolkien ever caught a glimpse of this place.' Heather thought with a smile.
Sadly, while many things were the same here as they were in her memories of Before, this world lacked the amazing works of JRR Tolkien, something that made Heather incredibly upset.
Perhaps he had been a wizard? That thought perked her up a bit!
But the detail, the intricate inset of the innumerable precious gems, and the thick veins of gold that seemed to flow like rivers against the pristine white of the stone was incredible.
"Would it be rude of me to mention that I think their artistry is unparalleled?" Heather asked Connie, somewhat breathless. "The attention to detail and the skilled precision it must have taken to build this is…..stunning." She craned her head back trying to see more of the amazing building.
Unfortunately, they had been closer to the guards than she had realized.
"Hmpf." The heavily armored guard to Heather's left grunted. His voice was nearly guttural; low and rough.
"Everyone likes to hear sincere compliments, dear." Connie told her gently as she led them through the doors.
The inside, past the poem engraved into the interior doorway, was much like the inside of a grand cathedral. Instead of pews, the middle of the grand room was open, while off to the sides, on raised platforms were dozens of other Stonebloods, weighing and inspecting gems and such, a lot like the Hobbit movies had pictured Erebor in its prime.
She could just picture noble Balin sitting in front of a set of scales, weighing a tribute to his King. Or gentle Bifur making intricate toys somewhere in the depths of the Bank. Perhaps the sons of Dís would ditch their paperwork to race the mining carts; forcing grumpy, loyal Dwalin to hunt them down and return them?
Heather forced herself to focus.
The six raised, narrow rows of the upper gallery- above the two lower ones, which seemed to be stacked nearly on top of one another not too far off the ground- seemed to be made of solid stone. However, there were other, smaller Stonebloods running about, walking through the solid lines of stone as if the stone was made of nothing but air. Where they went after walking through what logic would dictate as the wall to the outside of the Bank, Heather had no idea. But she assumed that magic was involved, if only for the lack of Stonebloods plunging to their deaths off to the side of the entrance of the Bank.
'Amazing.' Heather thought in admiration as Connie shepherded them forward, very few other people being in the grand room and thus, Heather's gawking drawing attention.
The two lowest gallery rows seemed made to interact with the public. Though even the lowest one put the humans using them at a height disadvantage, which seemed to be a bit petty and spiteful.
It amused Heather greatly.
The lowest row had teller stations- at least Heather assumed the neatly latticed windows were teller stations- about every fifth Stoneblood. The row just above that Heather guessed was probably for slightly more important, but not quite management-level, Stonebloods.
There was a kiosk sort of thing, with three Stonebloods manning it, at the far end of the grand room, straight out from the entrance. It reminded Heather of a judge's panel, really, with the one in the center clearly being someone of importance, given that he was slightly apart and sat higher than the other two.
All the signs were in Latin, which sort of sucked.
Only sort of, because Heather had gotten a somewhat general grasp of the language from long days spent with Kris, but Latin had more than one dialect and Heather was far from fluent in any of them.
"To the right is the currency exchange station, to the left is the new accounts desk, and the Stoneblood in the middle is the High Teller, who we need to speak to." Connie whispered to them before she strode up to the desk, lightly inclined her head towards the Stoneblood, and then informed him. "I have new students who received their Letter. They will require their Trust keys." Connie gave the Stoneblood a meaningful look. "Discretion would be appreciated."
"Very well." The Stoneblood said, his keen eyes raking over the twins quickly, before he met Connie's gaze evenly. "You will not be allowed to accompany them."
"I am aware, High Teller." Connie said with a smile, her tense frame relaxing a bit. "I will be more than happy to read my book in your comfortable waiting area and await their return."
The Stoneblood nodded boredly, made a few sounds Heather had no hope of translating, and then Connie pulled them to the side.
"The Stoneblood are very busy, and their motto is very much 'time is money'." She told them quickly. "Heather, dear, take your hat off once you get into whatever meeting room, or it'll be considered rude. Be polite and everything should be fine."
A voice pointedly cleared its throat behind them. "All true statements, Intermediary. This way. Please."
Then Connie was gently pushing them forwards and before Heather knew it she was following one of the little guys through a previously unseen door.
―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――
The hallways they were led down were rather tame compared to the show of wealth they had seen before, but the tapestries that hung along them were still distracting.
Not that Heather would have tried to count turns or anything. She had about zero sense of direction, and generally did better with landmarks, anyways.
Their guide said nothing, and Heather had snuck her hand into Harry's at some point without her noticing.
Eventually, he- well, she thought he was a he- made an abrupt turn, and before they knew it they were inside a rather tidy little office. It had all the classics- a desk piled with parchment and books, bookshelves, a few chairs, an overabundance of burgundy- and the fireplace with the battleaxes crossed above them was just cliché.
"Sit." Their guide barked out, gesturing them inside with a curt motion.
Heather had stopped at the doorway, blatantly gawking again, and since she still held his hand in a deathgrip, Harry had stopped as well.
Oops.
The twins quickly took their seats, Heather removing her hat and placing it on the back of the high-backed chair and setting her satchel across her lap.
"The Keeper will be with you shortly." Their guide informed them shortly, before leaving and snapping the door shut behind him.
"Well." Harry said a bit wryly. "That was interesting."
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled out of Heather's mouth, and her fingers trembled lightly as she worried the fabric of her satchel. "Y-yeah."
Further conversation was cut short when the door opened once again, and a slightly short Stoneblood, with stylishly curled white hair and a monocle attached to his left eye, came bustling in.
"I am Keeper Sharpshard. Who are the two of you professing to be?" He asked briskly, giving them a gimlet glare.
"I am Heather Potter, and this is my twin brother, Harry Potter." Heather managed to say in an even voice.
"We shall see." Was all the Keeper said before he walked over to the far wall and seemed to disappear through yet another camouflaged door.
Seriously? What the hell was with all the hidden doors!
"It is my duty to inform you." He stated dispassionately as he came back into the room, holding a shallow bowl and several other items. He waved a hand and two small tables popped into existence in front of the twins, startling them slightly. The Keeper paid no mind and in short order there were several things set down in front of them, including two an ancient looking quills apiece, a few pieces of some pretty fancy parchment, and a small glass phial full of a swirling grey liquid. "That if you are not who you claim to be, this will not end well. If you are being coerced, you have the option to request asylum, and Gringotts Bank will contact the International Confederation of Wizards' Investigation Division on your behalf, with no penalty levied against you by Gringotts Bank."
There were several moments of silence, as he held the shallow, pearlescent bowl in his hands and gave each twin a long, penetrating stare.
Heather couldn't have spoken if she'd tried. Her nerves were all tangled up in knots and she felt like she could feel each individual heartbeat inside her chest. Her breathing was even only because she didn't want the Stoneblood to think she was lying to him, but she would rather be back at Number Four than right here.
She hated feeling ill-prepared! Why hadn't she pressed Petunia for more information or tried to contact Connie herself? Why had she waited? Why was she so stupid?
"We, Gringotts Bank, have determined that you are under no currently known potions, spells, or other means of physical, mental, or emotional manipulation." He continued almost boredly, an insult to Heather's internal anxiety-fest. "Your continued insistence that you are Heather Potter and Harry Potter, children of the late Lord James and Lady Lily Potter, is therefore under your own, free will. And as such you will be subject to the full extent of the law should you prove to be thieves." The smile he gave them was nearly lipless, all sharp, serrated, bleached teeth. "Now, which of you is the eldest?"
"According to our maternal aunt, who raised us, I am." Heather managed around her growing sense of doom and foreboding.
The Keeper nodded and set the bowl down in front of her. "With the black quill, write your name on the topmost parchment- your full name, as you know it- and then place it facedown in the bowl. Then you will drink this potion-" He tapped the smoky phial with a claw-tipped finger. "-and write your name once again, on the bottom parchment, and place that into the bowl as well, only facing upwards."
Heather nodded to show she understood. "Shall I?"
"Yes." He said, rather grumpily.
Heather had always been told her middle name was Lillian, so that was what she wrote.
'Amazing how a nice, long draught of nearly crippling anxiety could make you question your own name.' She thought rather caustically.
The potion tasted sharp, like antiseptic, but she managed it.
Once both pieces of parchment were placed in the bowl she looked up at the Keeper expectantly.
The Keeper stared intently at the bowl for a long heartbeat.
One that seemed to last a small ice age to the highly aggravated and equally anxious Heather.
'It is fairly elaborate, so maybe the things I just thought were pretty veins were actually words? Or maybe it was enchanted or something?' Heather thought rather desperately, trying to contain her severe case of nervousness.
Apparently satisfied with whatever he saw, he nodded and withdrew a wicked looking knife- about the size of a butter knife- from his belt and held it out to her. "Prick your finger with this, once it has gathered enough blood, I will take it. The rest of verification involves magic exclusive to Gringotts Bank and cannot be witnessed by non-authorized personnel." He glared rather ferociously at Heather. "Gringotts Bank is the premier expert of identification magics, and we take our client's account security seriously. As such the disposal of the blood and parchments will be executed in front of you, should you prove to be Heather Potter. Should you prove to be lying, they will be used against you before the Gringotts Council." The little being sighed softly when Heather merely nodded in agreement. "The final piece of I require is your Letter."
"Ok." Heather managed, sounding much braver than she felt. She dug into her satchel, suddenly, intensely thankful she had put their Letters in the front zipper part for easy access and passed Harry his before handing the Keeper hers. Then she placed the offered knife against her skin and closed her eyes.
Surprisingly, it felt much like a poke from the dentist after the anesthetic took effect.
Quickly enough the knife was whisked away, along with the bowl, and the Keeper disappeared behind the invisible door.
"Did it hurt?" Harry asked her as soon as the door closed behind the Keeper, grabbing her hand and eying the small cut balefully.
It was already healing. Rather weird to see it sealing up before her eyes, but she was grateful. She didn't want to get blood on her skirt.
"Not really." Heather answered him honestly; her anxiety kicking into overdrive the longer the Keeper was gone.
"Hey!" Suddenly Harry's hands were pressed firmly against her face, forcing her to look at him. "Heather-feather, calm down."
"Ok." She half-whispered, dragging in strangely heavy pulls of air. "Ok."
Harry smiled at her, but before anything else could be said the Keeper came back in, bearing the bowl, her Letter, and a small box.
"Congratulations, Miss Potter." He drawled somewhat dryly as he set the bowl down in front of her. "Here is your Letter, your Trust key, and your Heiress ring."
He snapped his fingers and a white fire erupted in the bowl, quickly burning away the remaining blood from the knife and the remains of the two parchments.
Heather blinked rather stupidly, but managed to stamp down the need to ask a billion questions. "Does my putting on the ring mean anything important for our financial matters? And if it is too involved for a concise answer, may I request that you direct me towards some information materials?" She managed to ask somewhat smoothly, as she took the shiny, elaborate, old-style key laying in the bowl, her Letter, and the shiny box.
The grin the Keeper shot her was sly. "I could set up an appointment with the Potter Manager, if you would like. Though your ring's placement does not matter, only the fact you can wear it."
"Please do." Heather replied, taking the polished- was it made out of stone?- box with some trepidation. "My brother and I will be staying at the Singing Siren until Hogwarts begins." She glanced up at the still shrewdly grinning Stoneblood. "Would Gringotts prefer for us to inform them of our room numbers?"
"Unless you wish for an unruly mob of wizards to follow you about, I would suggest such a thing." He bit out rather grumpily as he whisked the bowl away, and disappeared off into the hidden door.
"Open it!" Harry urged her with a bright grin. "My Lady." He added playfully, knocking their shoulders together.
Heather laughed a little, much more settled now, and opened the box.
The ring was gorgeous. Obviously well-crafted and-
Well, that was interesting.
She could feel magic of the ring- she'd been able to tune out the abundance of magic all around her as white noise mostly- reaching for her. And that would have been concerning, but she recognized the magic.
Because she had it too.
It was that joyful feeling in her magic, the part that made it feel like she was part of a bubbly stream that wore smooth the stones and had children splash along her shores during the hot days of summer. It was laughter and light and her brother and her huddled around the fireplace with hot chocolate and Nana Anna laughing at their foam mustaches and nights with her husband and her cats waking her in the morning with kisses and whiskers-
Heather hadn't even realized she had started crying until Harry was in front of her, wiping her tears away with the hem of his shirt and staring at her in concern. "Heather-feather?"
"I'm fine." She told him, her words thick and her heart a strange mix of exultant and devastated. "Really." She tried again after he gave her an entirely unimpressed look. "Truly, Har-bear. It just…it feels like home."
Harry's brow furrowed as he glanced down to the ring in the box and back to her face. "What? I mean, I can feel something sort of tugging at me, but-"
"Remarkable." The Keeper's voice startled both of them, Harry pressing closer to her and glaring at the short being. "It has been nearly a hundred years since I have witnessed such an intuitive reaction from an heir." He finally looked at her with something other than slyness or boredom, but it only lasted a moment and then he was scowling at Harry. "Sit. Your verification will not take as long as your sister's."
Heather smiled at Harry earnestly, and though he looked like he wanted to protest, he sat down and quickly went through the process.
By the time the Keeper disappeared again, Heather had slipped the ring onto the middle finger of her left hand.
Both twins watched, entranced, as the ring shifted, the thick band slimming down to something far more to Heather's taste.
"I wonder what the animals are?'" Harry said curiously as he held her hand and squinted at the ring. "They look kind of like cats. With wings. And there are swords, too, which is pretty brilliant."
"We'll have to find out." Heather told him warmly, still sort of dazed from her experience with the ring.
Soon, the Keeper came back with Harry's key, repeated the white fire thing in the bowl, told them to leave a note about their accommodations with one of the teller's and kicked them out of the room.
Once back in the hall, another Stoneblood melted out of the woodwork. "This way." He said shortly.
The further they traveled, Heather having grabbed onto Harry's hand again, the less ornate and more….earthy, the scenery became. Finally they reached a ledge in a cavernous room and the guide let out a sharp whistle.
Heather climbed into the rickety looking mining cart, that was on an equally rickety looking rail system, and promptly buried her face into Harry' shirt.
She appreciated the strangely clean, earthy smell of the air as it went whipping past them, she just didn't appreciate the view.
Nor did Heather appreciate the sudden stop.
'We can't stop, we've got to slow down first!' Ran through her mind as the guide ordered Harry to stay and Heather rather drunkenly climbed out.
"Um, can he come if I give permission or is that against bank policy?" She asked their guide as she handed over her key without asking.
He gave her a long, considering look before he shrugged, unconcerned. "Permission, once given, cannot be changed."
"He's my twin, and my partner in crime. I give Harry Potter permission to enter my vault." Heather said, feeling a bit silly but wanting to be thorough.
"Very well then. You may approach, Mr. Potter." The guide informed them, before pointing to a line carved into the stone. "Stay behind that line if you wish to live."
The twins did, though the billowing green smoke and the dramatic opening of the stone door was rather amusing, as opposed to inspiring. Heather could see why Gringotts would be a pain to rob, though. The entire cavern seemed to be solid stone, just with intricate artwork engraved along its face. It would be impossible to tell where the vault doors were, let alone the vault numbers!
Though once their guide did some chanting and some green smoke billowed out from the now open door, the number on her key appeared above the door and on the outside of the door itself. The number on her key read 'Vault 689', while Harry's read 'Vault 687'. Truthfully, she didn't remember if that was the same as his vault had been in the books or not.
"Vault 689." The guide informed them, stepping back and turning his back to the vault, just short of the line he had pointed out to Heather. "Will you be requiring a coin purse today? Gringotts offers a standard, deluxe, and premium purse at a slight discount to first time visitors. "
"Would I be correct to assume these purses are well guarded against thievery?" Heather aske rather wryly as she boggled at the mountain- literally!- of gold inside the vault. Along with a tower of silver and a sea of knuts.
This was all hers?
Holy shit.
"Correct." The guide seemed to be amused somehow. "The premium is the recommended, of course, with its enchantments guaranteed for a duration of at least ten years and can hold upwards of a thousand galleons, twice as many sickles, and three times as many knuts. It costs seven galleons. The currencies are divided into separate sections for ease of access."
'Worth it.' Heather thought as she did the mental math.
"I'll take one, and I'd like to pre-purchase my brother one as well." Heather informed the guide cheerfully, swinging around to face him and ignoring Harry's spluttering. "Do I need to bring you the coins?"
The guide shook his head negatively as he produced to small, velvet checkbook looking things. They really did look a bit like a high-end checkbook or wallet, really, just with an elaborate silver clasp at the top. "The amount will be deducted from your vault shortly. Please press your hand against the clasp."
Heather did, the guide waved his long fingers over her hand and the checkbook looking thing, muttering in that same language she had no hope of deciphering. After a moment, she could a strange shower of magic wash over her and attached itself to the item.
'Strange, but neat.' She thought as she made her way into the cavernous room.
She counted ten galleons and measured the distance with her fingers. Then she went over to one of the shorter piles and marked out sections of ten until she couldn't reach any higher.
Then she felt sort of stupid.
"I, am an idiot." She announced drolly, a little chagrined, just as Harry came to join her.
Her brother just gave her an incredulous look, assessed the situation, and then laughed at her.
She pushed him into a pile of galleons.
―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――
The twins were given a packet of information by a newly arrived Stoneblood, which Heather hastily stuffed in her bag, just before they were led out into the foyer to meet up with Connie.
"Ready, dears?" She asked with a smile, closing her book and placing it back into her purse. "The first stop will be to get you a trunk."
The woman wove them through the crowd, Heather having retrieved her hat from her satchel after they were all outside Gringotts. The street was a bit busier, but as they entered a store just a few shops down from the Bank, Heather didn't get to look around all that much.
-XXX-
Heather wasn't much of a shopper. She liked to get in, get what she needed, and get the hell out. Bookstores or those eclectic, small time stores could hold her attention a bit longer, but even then she wasn't a truly dedicated shopper.
Efficiency was her dearest friend in matters of shopping.
At the trunk store, she and Harry had gotten matching trunks made out of reddish wood. She'd forgotten the name. It looked like cherry wood, but it was basically a gifted version of the common tree.
The trunks came with decent security- they had the step-by-step instructions for after they purchased their wands to add the finishing touches- but it definitely wasn't impenetrable. The trunks were about as tall as Heather- came up to about her armpit, actually- and held three compartments. The first was sort of a walk-in wardrobe which was about the size of their old room back at the Pritchards' house, and had shelves, a closet, and some magically expanded drawers, for storage. The second a compartment smaller- perhaps the size of their room at Number Four- and had built-in bookshelves all along the walls. The third compartment was about the size of a normal trunk, but made to store personal effects and the most protected.
The storekeeper had needed to do some things with their hair- while Connie gave him the stink eye and fingered her wand suspiciously casually, which had made the twins feel amused. They had been taken into a workroom to watch him inlay the trunks with the specialized enchantments. But, even though it cost upwards of twenty galleons- five hundred pounds, which made Heather's inner cheapskate wince- Heather felt they were a good investment.
Especially given the 'standard' trunks. They were a little bigger on the inside- maybe double the normal interior- but they didn't have any security enchantments, wand-tap shrinking, or the weight suspension enchantments.
What was the point of having magic if you didn't use it? Granted, Heather liked to think that she and Harry were a tad more mature and prone to treat their belongings with a bit more care than the average ten-year-olds, so she could see why not all parents would want to spring for an advanced trunk if they thought their child might not take care of it properly.
But, well, the twins didn't have to pence-pinch on this expedition. And they took care of their stuff.
Now, they weren't going to get a solid gold cauldron or the most expensive robes or anything crazy like that; but since they had the cash to spare, they might as well invest in things that would last them- comfortably- all seven years.
"Now, I'm going to show you the way to the Singing Siren, where we'll have lunch, and then we'll get your wands." Connie told them as they stepped back out into the sunshine. "I'm afraid that you'll have to finish your shopping on your own time." She threw them a warm smile. "But, as you have a list, a map, and almost two full months, I have faith that you'll manage."
―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――
Constance Rausch had been an Intermediary for nearly forty years and she could honestly say that she had never encountered any child quite like Heather Potter.
After that first meeting all those years ago, Connie had kept a discreet eye on the twins. And, given the Supreme Mugwump's apparent conflict of interest- as he had told the British Wizengamot of his personal involvement in placing the twins at their childhood residence- her superior had agreed to keep the case quiet, once she had read him in.
Truthfully, it was a bit of a fluke that Connie had gotten the case, as she was much higher in the chain of command than a common field agent. She wasn't sure if it was magic or just good luck but the fact that it had been her had allowed for a bit more leeway and the influence to sway a supervisor to keep the information from the General Assembly's 'public' records.
Heather had been mature in manner and speech since Connie had first met her. The girl had obviously been the mature one, even if she had allowed her aunt to pretend otherwise, but Connie sensed no malice from the girl.
The Intermediary had met a host of abused children over the years, and she wished that just half of them turned out as well as Heather.
When Ollivander told Heather's brother about his new wand's connection to Britain's late Dark Lord, Heather bodily stepped in front of Harry, threw her arms out as if to shield him, and glared murder at the old wandmaker.
"My brother is powerful, that much I agree with, Mr. Ollivander. But he is in no way like that fiend." Connie watched as the boy dug his fingers into the cloth of his sister's dress and hid his face in the spot between her shoulder blades. "My brother is kind and brave and caring and a hundred times the man that the boy who grew up to be Voldemort ever could have been. And I would appreciate it if you would not imply otherwise."
"O-of course, dear girl." The old man said peering at the girl intently. "I only meant that the wand is meant for greatness."
"And my brother is already great." Heather refuted firmly. Steadfast in her conviction. "He just needs to grow into his full potential." She flashed a smile that was full of teeth. "And a man who can control his tongue, controls his whole body."
The old wandmaker sort of half-smiled before he nodded in acquiescence. "I apologize, young man. I see that you need no reminders that power is a terrible burden."
Harry peeked over his sister's shoulder and smiled at the man. "It's alright. I-I think I get it." Harry smiled a little wider at the man. "Heather-feather's always told me that the true measure of power is how you treat someone who can do nothing for you."
Connie noted that his fingers stayed tangled in his sister's dress. She didn't really blame him. Heather Potter seemed like a Valkyrie come to defend the souls of the righteous, her magic coiling around her and ready to defend what was hers even beyond her dying breath.
Ollivander could apparently see the spirit of the girl's late mother in Heather as well, because the rest of the tension and apprehension drained from his eyes and he smiled at them. "That is a wonderful rule to live by, young man." He turned his gaze back to Heather, who had finally lowered her arms, but was still glaring. "Now, let's get you sorted my dear."
Heather nodded, as regal as a queen, and Connie was rather amused that the girl's glare didn't really lessen.
When the girl bonded with her wand, the whole shop seemed to sing.
"Birch and braided Unicorn hair. Twelve inches, precisely." The wandmaker murmured contemplatively.
Heather nodded primly, looking over her new wand with appreciation and awe. "I don't suppose you have wand holsters? Or wand cleaning kits? I don't want my new….. comrade to get damaged"
The wandmaker nearly lit up. "Of course!"
After they had gotten holsters, polish kits, and a few other necessities, Connie walked them back to the Siren. She left the twins at their room, nodded at the Enforcer that would be watching over them as a favor to her department- mostly by tagging them with subtlety charms, she had explained to Heather quietly- and briskly moved through the early evening crowds.
As she walked, Connie wondered what sort of chaos the Potter twins would cause the gifted of the Isles. She kind of couldn't wait to see it. They were in need of a socio-economic shakeup.
Connie smiled a little sharply as she headed towards the portkey Departure Point. She had seen the packet Heather had gotten from the Stoneblood Nation, and she firmly believed that the girl was worth the favor she had called in on the twins' behalf.
'Give them hell, dear.'
―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――
The twins had dropped by Gringotts with their room number, and they had asked Connie a plethora of questions over their late lunch, but by the time they came back from getting their wands Heather was exhausted.
The Singing Siren was quite fond of purple, blue, and white, and the beds were four poster monstrosities that looked positively sinful. The twins had checked the bathroom, and the elegant taps- there were ten of them!- were nearly begging for Heather to try them. The twins were rather freaked out by the talking mirrors, so they covered them or turned them towards the wall, but their suite also held a laundry chute and a common room.
There were two bedrooms of course, but the twins had set up shop in one of them. It seemed odd, the idea of sleeping in separate rooms, and they both agreed they weren't really looking forward to that part of Hogwarts.
Harry ran down and got them some supper, and they both fell asleep, still in their clothes.
―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――
Please leave a comment on your way out if you enjoyed it~!
―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――