JK Rowling is the creator and owner of the Harry Potter universe while the Phantom Of The Opera (from which I have stolen several bits of inspiration) was written by Gaston Leroux.

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Chapter Three

Cavatina

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Harry stared at the man waiting at the meeting point.

If he had any doubt at all about the possibility of a magical world actually existing, the sight of the man standing there, a man shorter than he was with features showing signs of being something other than human, would have dispelled them.

Using his skills in stealthy movement, Harry approached the man, only for him to spin round and point a stick at him, before giving a chuckle and making the stick seem to vanish.

"My apologies." He said in an almost-squeaky voice. "I'm afraid my old duelling reflexes aren't as dull as I thought they were."

Harry tilted his head, peering at him through his mask's eye-slits.

"What… are you?"

"An interesting question." The man replied with a smile. "I am a wizard. My name is Filius Flitwick and I am a half-goblin and former international duelling champion. Am I correct in assuming that you are the famous Harry Potter?"

"Famous?" Harry asked. "Why would I be famous?"

Filius paused for a moment. "Ah, yes. My apologies, I forgot for a moment that you would be unaware of your fame. You have many names among the Witches and Wizards, but the most common refers to what happened when you were but a year old. You are the only known survivor of the Killing Curse and so they call you the Boy Who Lived."

Harry snorted. "What?"

"It's true." Filius shrugged. "The evidence is the scar on your forehead, it's almost as famous as you are. Many children in our world have, at one time or another, painted your lightning-bolt scar on their foreheads so that they… dear Merlin! What happened to you?"

Harry tilted his head slightly, giving Filius a good view of the scars that marred and distorted the right side of his face, then he donned his mask once more.

"…what happened?" Filius whispered, his face pale and Harry shrugged.

"Children are cruel."

"Who did that to you?"

"My cousin." Harry gave another shrug. "He poured something on my scar that really hurt, so I ran away."

Filius seemed lost for words, then he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.

"I see. That would explain quite a bit and makes it even more necessary that you visit a Healer soon. Now, you mentioned a sna… merciful Merlin!"

~He sseemss jumpy.~ Sssthshssth noted as he raised his head out of Harry's hood.

"I don't think he's normally like that." Harry pointed out, only to notice that Flitwick was looking even more shocked than before. "What?"

"You're a Parselmouth…"

"I'm a what?"

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No-one paid much attention to the cloaked figure walking through the Leaky Cauldron behind Professor Flitwick who was radiating determination and an unwillingness to engage in unnecessary conversation with every pace. The duo vanished out the back, where Filius pulled out his wand and fired a small spark of magic at a specific brick, causing the wall to fold open into an archway, revealing beyond it the cobbled lane.

"Diagon Alley." Filius resumed his journey. "First stop, Gringotts at the far end, then once you have been checked and caught up with your finances, we can begin getting what you need."

"Such as a wand."

"Such as a wand." Filius nodded in agreement. "Come on, the sooner we get started, the sooner you can get comfortable."

As they walked down the bustling lane, Harry looked round curiously, his eyes taking in various sights such as the broomstick hovering in the window of one shop or the display of baskets containing things like doxie wings and beetle eyes.

Soon, the lane took a sharp corner and at the top was a three-storey building fronted by pillars that stood at slight angles. On either side of the large door stood armoured goblins holding halberds.

"Let me do the talking. Just be ready to show your key." Flitwick instructed before leading Harry into the building.

As his eyes adjusted to the sudden drop in light, Harry found himself impressed despite himself. The large hall had a line of raised desks on the far side, each one manned by a Goblin perfroming different tasks, whether counting piles of coins, making notes in large tomes or sorting piles of jewels. The walls sparkled with inlaid patterns of gold and the entire hall was lit by large, gold-encrusted chandeliers.

Flitwick made his way to the end desk, one set even above the line of desks and angled so that the elderly goblin perched behind it had a commanding view of the entire hall. As Flitwick came to a stop before the desk, the Goblin growled something at him in a language that Harry didn't recognise. Flitwick simply growled back and the two were soon snarling and almost spitting at each other before the elderly Goblin chuckled.

"You still know how to fight with more than a Wand." The elder chuckled. "So. You are Potter, yes?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"Your account manager has been informed you are here and is ready to see you, although you will need to remove your mask once you enter his office. As for the other requests, they will be dealt with."

Harry nodded again, grateful that his mask hid his confused expression.

"You will understand soon." Harry blinked in shock and the Elder smirked. "You don't reach the rank I have without learning how to read more than just faces, Potter. Your mask hides only your face, not your thoughts. Go. You can trust the Wand Bearer to act in your best interests for now."

"Thank you."

"Go. Time is money and you have wasted enough of mine." The Elder turned his attention back to something on his desk. "The Wand Bearer knows where you need to go."

"Come on, Harry." Flitwick commanded and Harry followed as the half-Goblin professor led him to the dar end of the hall where a Goblin guardsman opened a door for them to pass through. "I've arranged for you to get an overview of what you have available to you, then a meal before you visit the Healers. Goblin Healers are very efficient and knowledgable, far more so than the Healers in St Mungo's. Those who trust the Goblins know that the Healers here are more than worth what they charge."

"Do I have enough money?" Harry asked as Flitwick stopped by an open door and a deep chuckle echoed.

"If you are who you claim to be, then yes." A voice said. "Enter."

Harry stepped into the office and the Goblin behind the desk tilted his head slightly.

"Remove the mask."

Harry reached up and doffed the mask. As he lowered it, the Goblin's eyes briefly widened.

"If I didn't know better, I would say you were related to Mad-eye. Come. Sit. You have your key?"

Harry lifted the necklace holding his key up, pulling the chain over his head, then held it out. The Goblin leaned forwards and squinted at it.

"That's the key, alright. One more test. Put the key on the desk and place your hand on it."

Harry followed the instructions and the Goblin nodded.

"Since it hasn't burned a hole through your hand, you are indeed Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter."

"Those were my parents names?" Harry asked before he could stop himself and the Goblin paused, taken aback.

"You really know nothing about your past, don't you? Well, that can wait. For now, we need to discuss why you haven't been responding to the letters we've been sending you about your parent's wills."

"I… I haven't received any letters. Well, apart from my Hogwarts one, that is."

Once again the Goblin looked taken aback.

"I see we need to start from the basics then. My name is Throatripper and I have been your family's account manager since your grandfather Fleamont Potter accepted me to replace the previous manager. Now, as the last Potter, you can ask to have your parents wills read. They were sealed on the day your parents were killed by the self-styled Dark Lord and you vanished from the Wizarding World. Would you like them to be read?"

"I would." Harry confirmed and Throatripper tapped a small, jewelled device on his desk.

"There. The wills are being brought up from the archives. Having them read will probably change your financial position somewhat, so we may wish to wait for that."

"Sounds sensible." Harry noted. "By the way, is it possible to get a couple of mice? My friend Sssthshssth is complaining he's hungry."

"So that's what the hissing was." Throatripper chuckled as he reached out and tapped the device again. "There'll be a small charge of two Sickles for this."

"What's a sickle? I assume you don't mean the harvesting tool."

"It's a coin." Throatripper opened a drawer and pulled out three coins, placing them on the desk. "The bronze coins are Knuts, the silver ones are Sickles and the golden ones are Galleons."

"How to they compare to real money?" Harry asked curiously.

"Real money?"

"Pounds and pence."

"You really were raised in the Muggle world, weren't you?" Throatripper sighed. "Alright. This is how it works. There are twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, meaning that a Galleon is worth four-hundred and ninety-three Knuts. The value of the Galleon compared to the Muggle Pound varies and this current time, one Galleon is currently worth twenty-three pounds and ninety-seven pence, although it is currently going up in value."

"So… that makes it about four point eight pence per knut or a pound forty one per sickle." Harry mused, earning a look of respect.

"Very good, Mr Potter. Done without an abacus or quill and parchment. I do believe that you would make a fine Ravenclaw. The Wand Bearer leads that house."

Harry glanced around but failed to spot Flitwick. Throatripper chuckled again. "The Wand Bearer knows the rules. He is not part of this meeting, so he waits outside. If only more users of wands followed his ex-ah! Here we go."

Throatripper hopped off his seat and walked to where a pair of scrolls had dropped into a wall-mounted box, their appearance causing a small bell to chime. Collecting the scrolls, he made his way back to the desk and re-seated himself.

"So, full reading or overview?"

"Overview, but can I keep the originals if possible to go through later when I have the time?"

"And avoid wasting mine." Throatripper said approvingly. "Alright. According to what has been said, your father was slain trying to delay the self-styled Dark Lord, so his will should have activated first. Let's see…"

Throatripper untied the ribbon holding the scroll closed and unrolled it on his desk. "James Potter, Last will and… leave to wife… bequests to Sirius Black as your Sworn Godfather… well, that's interesting, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew… twenty thousand Galleons each. Minor bequests to Hogwarts, St Mungo's and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, five thousand each. Any questions yet?"

"How much is there in the vault?" Harry asked.

"Before the bequests… your current coinage in the vault is two hundred and three thousand, six hundred and fifty seven Galleons, one thousand, six hundred and eleven sickles and seven hundred and fifty two knuts, giving a total equivalent of two hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and fifty three Galleons, four sickles and twenty-seven knuts. The primary bequests will lower that by fifty-five thousand Galleons since Pettigrew is legally deceased, leaving you with a hundred and forty eight thousand plus. Moving on. Lily Potter, Last Will… main bequests not applicable as already listed, secondary bequest to Hogwards for another five thousand. plus several minor bequests totalling less than a thousand Galleons. Here's the list."

Harry accepted the piece of paper that Throatripper had been writing on and looked at it.

"Who are Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Horace Slughorn?"

"Black is your Sworn Godfather, which is highly irregular since he was jailed for betraying the Potters. Since he's still alive, he couldn't have done it. Remus Lupin was one of your Father's friends while Horace Slughorn is a former Potions Professor who taught your mother at Hogwarts. I believe that she was part of the social club he led at the time."

Harry frowned. "Hold the one for Remus until I can find out why he didn't come for me. If he was involved with where I ended up…"

"Understood." Throatripper made a note. "Lupin bequest suspended pending further action."

"I need to learn a lot in the next month." Harry rubbed his scarred cheek thoughtfully. "Slughorn was a professor so he knows how to teach. I'll want to send him a note asking if I can hire his services."

"You could probably get a discount if you trade on your mother's name." Throatripper noted.

"How did Black end up jailed if he didn't do what they claim he did?"

"He didn't get a trial."

Harry sat back. "I… see. Can you put copies of the wills up outside the bank for everyone to read?"

"For a small fee, yes." Throatripper bared his teeth in a predatorial grin. "It will cause quite an outcry, you know, the knowledge that Black is your sworn Godfather."

"Serves them right for abandoning me as a baby." Harry returned Throatripper's grin with one justt as bloodthirsty.

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Authors Afternote – Before anyone complains about the amount in the vault, may I point out that we see a huge pile of Galleons in the first film while the book describes "Mounds of Gold". I assumed that the description meant the visible mound plus three of similar size closer to the walls and taking a volume calculation, that gave over two hundred thousand Galleons.

Yep, Harry's rich. Just remember, many Wizards and Witches probably left him a load of money too as he was The Boy Who Lived…