Blood and Gold

The old, half-broken window creaked as Harry slowly opened it. He let winced at the sound that seemed abnormally loud in the otherwise silent room, and looked back to the open door of his hospital room to make sure that the nurses that were running around the corridor hadn't heard it. He had to get out of the hospital, but that would become quite difficult if he were to be placed under constant supervision after an attempted escape.

Harry knew he couldn't stay though. He had nothing on him, no identification, no money, and his clothes would have barely passed as muggle in his own time, not to mention fifty years in the past.

He winced as he was reminded of that small fact again.

He had somehow seriously messed up that ritual and as of yet, he had zero idea what his mistake had been. However, he knew that with enough time, he would be able to figure it out. He would make sure to go over and over every miniscule detail of what he had done to find a way to reverse it. After all, he had no wish to stay in this time. Before the wizarding wars, before all the deaths and destruction.

Morally, he knew that he could quite possibly try to change what had happened, but he had been lectured enough about the effects of temporal imbalance to know that he should try to avoid changing the future at all costs.

So what Harry currently needed, was a place to stay where he could safely research without crossing paths with anyone.

At first, he thought about staying at the Leaky Cauldron, but he remembered that he had no money with him so either he would need to find a job to pay for it, or he would have to think of something else.

That is how he got to his current predicament of trying to sneak out of the hospital unnoticed.

He had pretended to be asleep when the nurse came to check up on him, and he knew that they wouldn't come to his room again for another two hours, give or take. That would give him enough time to get away.

Harry made sure that the window wouldn't creak again as he opened it wide, and climbed up to the window sill. He looked down and noted that thankfully he was only on the first floor, therefore the drop wouldn't be hazardous for him.

It was raining outside, and Harry took a couple moments to listen to the soft ambient noise of the droplets hitting the ground. It was extremely relaxing, and helped him distract his mind from his current distress for a short amount of time. He knew, however, that he could not allow himself to become distracted by the sudden calmness that overtook him. He had hospital to get out of.

He carefully climbed over the window sill and turned over so that he was only supporting himself on his upper body and forearms. He carefully lowered himself as much as he could, until only his hands were holding tightly onto the frail wood. He let go soon after, and landed on the wet grass with a quiet thump.

Grinning to himself for a bit, happy that he was finally out of that place, he looked around. It was dark outside since it was quite late into the night, and the only sound that he could hear was the white noise of the rainfall. There was nobody out. Which of course was undeniably helpful for his current situation as he had no wish for the police to be called on him for his extremely unusual state of dress, his quite obvious head injury, and his general state of actually looking nothing like the muggles of the time. Of course, any altercation with the police had to be avoided for the sole reason that he had absolutely no idea what events had been going on in the recent past, and what the social etiquette was like in this era.

Deciding to quit worrying about the what-ifs, Harry took out his wand and cast a quick rain-repellent on himself and took off in a slow jog. He wanted to get away from the hospital as soon as possible, just in case the nurses had come to check up on him earlier than he had anticipated and found him missing.

After a while his lungs started screaming at him, aggressively reminding him how out of shape his cardiovascular health was. Harry deemed it time to stop running and slowed down to a casual walking pace.

He cancelled the rain-repellent and let the water freely fall on him. His hair quickly became drenched in water and it started running down his face. He walked in the dark, only some few and far between streetlights lighting up his path.

Not caring about the weather, he strolled the silent streets. It was so different than what he was used to, back in his time. While some of the houses weren't too different, the overall feeling that he got from his surroundings was certainly different. There was tension, yes, but also some relief. He passed by numerous construction sites and was reminded that the muggle world was still recovering from the world wars and their aftermath, rebuilding the streets and their lives.

Focusing on his surroundings rather than this situation that he was stuck in helped ease his panic and distress quite a bit, but he knew that he could not run from his problems forever.

Harry let his thoughts run wild.

He kept running all of his possibilities through his mind.

Where could he go? How could he get money? How to research his ritual? Where to research it?

His list of questions was unending, and he struggled to find answers to them.

He had decided that Gringott's was probably the best chance that he had in figuring something out for himself. He was sure that for the right price, the goblins wouldn't hesitate to aid him in trying to find a solution for his current problem.

Walking through the dark streets of London, Harry roughly navigated from the few and far between street names that he recognised. It took him some time, he guessed a couple hours, until he found the street that the Leaky Cauldron resided on. The pub itself wouldn't open until around six or so, but Harry knew that Gringotts was open at every hour of the day.

He hoped that by now he was close enough to a magically dense area that an apparation wouldn't alert the Ministry's sensors of an illegal apparation, since technically he had not passed his exam in this time, thus he could get in a bit of a pickle with the aurors if he were to be found out. Closing his eyes and hoping that he would get away with it without ticking off the Ministry's surveillance, Harry apparated to Diagon Alley.

Slowly opening his eyes, Harry looked at the street in front of him. Even in its empty, dimly lit state, it brought back so many memories that made his heart clench. All the shops that weren't there yet, like George's shop or Neville's café. He saw store names that he didn't recognise. It made him quite upset, knowing that many of these stores would close because of bankruptcy caused by the general fear to go out, never mind go shopping, that spread through society during the wars.

Harry shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the depressing thoughts.

Not being distracted by heartbreaks of the past and the future, Harry noticed what had evaded his attention before; the magic.

The glorious magic surrounding him, thrumming with joy and welcoming him as an old friend. The ambient, natural magic of the Alley reached out to him and caressed his own magic with her touches, replenishing her own powers by doing so.

Harry knew that this is how the defences around the Alley were kept up; the wards naturally replenished themselves from the magic of the witches and wizards that frequented the streets, but it still felt strange to actually feel the wards siphoning off tiny bits of his magic to strengthen themselves.

He hadn't felt it yet, the last time he had gone to the Alley. It had been before he had dived deeper into the studies of blood runes, which had fine-tuned his magic to feel the various magical energies surrounding him. This was the first time that he had actually felt it happening, and it was quite awe-inspiring, just as much as it was a foreign sensation.

After a couple minutes, the magic drew back and Harry was left feeling strangely empty, for some reason. Not particularly worried about it however, he made his way to the enormous white building that was the wizarding bank.

It was the only building that looked exactly like the one in his own time. The other buildings that lined the streets of the Alley had all been destroyed and rebuilt at one point during the wars, but not Gringotts. It was actually quite refreshing, looking at it.

Harry had always liked the building. It was delicately designed, beautifully carved and crafted, truly a pleasure to look upon. But what amazed him now, were the wards. He had never felt them so strongly before. His knees actually shook a tiny bit at the power that was radiating from the fort. Reluctantly tearing away himself from basking in it, Harry slowly walked inside.

There was only a single goblin in the front hall of the bank, sitting at one of the front desks a bit further backwards down the hall. There were no wizards in sight, as it was quite rare for them to conduct their financial business just shy of four in the morning. The goblin looked busy, weighing various precious stones from the mountain of colourful rocks in front of him. Harry walked to his desk and stopped a couple steps in front of it, politely waiting for the goblin's attention.

He waited some time as the goblin ignored him, but soon after he was done weighing the stones, he looked up at the wizard in front of him.

"Yes?" he asked in a bored tone.

"Good morning," Harry replied with a bow of his head in respect to the creature in front of him. The goblin raised an expectant eyebrow at him, clearly signalling him to hurry up. "I am in major need of assistance, may I speak to your branch leader, or a manager?" he inquired, trying not to offend the goblin by implying incompetence for not being able to help him.

"What is it that you are in such a desperate need of assistance with, wizard?" the teller sneered at him "I am sure certain that my skill will be enough for whatever you may need them for, or are you implying that they are not?"

Trying to minimise the goblin's irritation at him, Harry quickly answered him.

"That is not the case, master goblin, however, the nature of my problem requires handling some… more intricate information, and for this reason I am not certain that the entrance hall would be the best place to discuss it. I would not like to be so bold to ask you to leave your current tasks unattended by requesting you to handle my services," he told the goblin.

"Very well, wizard, but you better have a really good reason for disturbing master Greyclaw in his work," came the reply as the goblin pressed a sort of button on the table. "Master Greyclaw shall be here shortly," he stated, and went back to his duties, including the most important one of absolutely ignoring the wizard standing in front of him.

After thanking the goblin, Harry stood there awkwardly waiting for some time before a door opened at the back of the hall, revealing a well-aged goblin looking at him expectantly. Harry bowed his head to the newcomer as well, and walked up to him.

"Good morning, master Greyclaw," he greeted the goblin with respect, and got a deep stare in return. A couple seconds later the goblin was apparently satisfied with what he saw as he turned around and motioned Harry to follow him.

"Come," Greyclaw stated. "We shall go to my office and you can tell me your business there."

Harry understood the underlying subscript and stayed quiet on their walk. It didn't take long for them to reach master Greyclaw's office but Harry still lost count of all the turns that they had made. He was quite sure that that was one of the goblins' major defense tactics, since the bank's corridors were a giant labyrinth where a normal wizard would have enormous troubles navigating without help from one of the goblins.

As soon as they arrived to the office, the goblin motioned Harry to sit down in the chair in front of the large desk, as he took a seat in the giant chair behind it.

The office was not too big, the desk in the middle took up the majority of the place in the room but it didn't have a crammed feeling to it. All of the walls were lined with bookshelves filled with various scriptures and books from all eras, and the room was lit by the light of a fire in a fireplace on one side of the room, and a torch extending from the bookshelf on the other wall. It had a cosy feeling to it.

"Now tell me, wizard, the reason you have requested my assistance," demanded the goblin impatiently.

Harry took a deep breath and took a second to collect his thoughts. He had decided that the only way the goblins would be able to help him was if they knew the whole truth, so that is what he would tell them.

"I made a mistake in a ritual I did, and accidentally came back in time," he started slowly, "from 2003."

He waited for the goblin's reaction which was no more than a raised eyebrow and a gesture urging him to elaborate.

"It was a blood ritual," Harry told the goblin hesitantly and got a snort, an eye roll and a muttered 'stupid wizards' in return. "It was supposed to help me find the person I was most compatible with, but instead it threw me out on the streets of London, fifty-three years earlier."

Harry opened his mouth to tell more but the goblin stopped him. Harry watched the creature open a drawer of his giant desk, take out several feet's worth of parchment, a quill and an inkwell.

"Write," the goblin instructed. "Every miniscule detail of the ritual that you did, no matter how insignificant it may be, write them down. All the potions, herbs, runes, incantations and other materials, the want movements, everything. I want them all written down," came the strict order.

Harry looked questioningly at the goblin but received no further elaboration.

"Now," bit out the creature, and opened up a book to read.

Harry got the impression that the goblin would not speak another word to him unless he did as instructed, so he started writing. The details were still fresh in mind so they came back to him easily, and as he started noting them down even more flooded his mind. So much, in fact, that he started running out of parchment. Without him having to say a word about that though, the goblin silently provided him with more sheets.

Completely losing track of time, Harry took his time scribbling down everything. When he was done, he collected all the sheets of parchment in order and handed them to the goblin. However, Greyclaw just shook his head, refusing to take the parchment.

"Those are not for me, they are for you. The earlier you write them down, the less likely you are to forget a detail that might be important," the creature told Harry. "Keep them. They will be helpful later."

"Oh," came Harry's mildly illiterate reply. He had not expected that, he had thought that the goblin wanted the details to look over the ritual himself. Of course not, that would be too easy.

"Now, I assume you need a place to stay, and for that you need to have money. That is why you are here, no?"

Harry hadn't expected the goblin to ask it so straightforward so the question caught him off-guard.

"Yes… I think," he replied, earning another eye roll from Grewclaw.

"Alright, wizard. Tell me, what does Gringotts bank receive in return for our services? You obviously have no gold, since if you had, you most certainly would not be here," Greyclaw demanded to know.

Harry thought for a moment. The goblin was right, he didn't have much to offer. He had no money, no status in this time. What could he offer... He knew that the goblin nation valued gold above all else. Of which he had none, so that was a dead end. Sources of gold, however…

"I can tell you the scores of all major quidditch games for the next 50 years, both national and international leagues," he exclaimed triumphantly. He knew that Gringotts was one of the major betting centres for the wizarding world, so he could only imagine how much money they would be able to make off of this information. Probably quite a lot, since there were more than a couple games with extremely surprising outcomes. Who knew that one could benefit so much from reading Quidditch Through Ages front to cover more times than in was possible to count.

Greyclaw hummed at his offer.

"That is a start, wizard, but it is far from enough. Gringotts cannot give you a new identity for only that much information," he stated in mild amusement.

"New identity? Why would I need that?" Harry asked in confusion. After all, he definitely wasn't planning on staying here long-term, only until he figures out what he messed up with the ritual, and how to reverse it. That shouldn't take more than a couple months, give or take. He did not need a whole new identity for that short amount of time.

"You do need it, wizard," Greyclaw said in a somewhat condescending manner. "For one, you need an identity to open a vault in the bank and either rent or buy a house. You also need one in case anything unexpected happens that results in you having to identify yourself. In addition, you may as well have no idea how much time it will take you to reverse-engineer your ritual. You will need an identity if you want to do a mastery, which will allow you to access more information on, how should I say, less legal means of doing various rituals."

Harry had to admit, the goblin definitely had a point. Anyone with a mastery in a subject had access to more not-so-legal material, mostly for research purposes. He would likely need that, if he can't figure out his mistake from the knowledge that he already had, which was quite versatile and broad, but it certainly wasn't everything there was to know about blood runes.

Bloody hell, he would have to do his mastery in runes all over again.

However, since in this time he had no OWL or NEWT results either….

Harry let out a loud groan.

Damn it, he would have to redo all of his exams again if he wanted to be able to properly research. Imagine how much time that would take! Even in his time, he had been the youngest to ever complete a mastery in runes, and it took him almost six years to complete it. For most people it took around ten years to fully earn a mastery in the subject.

He simply did not have that much time.

Harry's mind was running on top speed, trying to figure out all of his options. He couldn't come up with a better one.

Greyclaw was right… He needed a new identity.

And he needed to pay the goblins somehow.

Continuing his train of thought on how he could possibly acquire enough gold the goblins would be satisfied with, he came up with an idea.

"I can also tell you which companies to invest in and with ones to avoid at all costs possible. In the next thirty years more than half of the wizarding businesses will go bankrupt. I can tell you which ones. I can also tell you which ones will become extremely profitable," he offered.

The goblin seemed actually interested in his offer. If it was possible, Harry would say that Greyclaw's eyes started shining brighter at the prospect of so much gold.

"Alright, wizard. Your offer is accepted," Greyclaw exclaimed, dare Harry say, happily. He took out a parchment from his desk, and a knife. The parchment, however, was quite different from the ones that he had given Harry previously. It was more of a greyish colour and golden hairlines covered the entire surface. Harry looked at him in curiosity as he had never seen such thing before. "This is a heredity parchment," the goblin stated. "You will need to drop a couple droplets of blood on it and it will reveal your family tree."

The parchment was placed in front of Harry, as was the knife. He only accepted the parchment though. He had learnt, quite early on in his career as a rune master, just how much power blood holds, and he had absolutely no intention of letting the goblins come in possession of even a single drop of it.

He took his own ritual dagger out of its holster by his waist, and punctured his thumb so that a couple drops of blood could fall on the parchment.

For a while, nothing happened, but around a minute later, a slow script started forming on the page.

"This will take a while," Greyclaw told him. "Until then, you can write down all the information that you have on the quidditch games and the investments," with that, Greyclaw took the heredity parchment from him and handed him sheets of regular parchment.

Not one to go back on his word, Harry started writing.

He listed every single quidditch game he remembered, sorted by closest date to the ones furthest into the future, he wrote down all the scores, who the player who caught the snitch, the scores that the teams won, everything.

After he was finished, he moved on to the businesses. He listed all the successful businesses that he knew of, and when he realised he didn't know much of the businesses that would fail, he asked Greyclaw for help. The goblin was more than happy to list the names of all the shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade and a couple others that operated elsewhere, and Harry wrote down whether they existed in the future or not.

Of course, it was definitely not fool proof since businesses could be sold, merged, renamed, there could be numerous reasons why he wouldn't recognise the names from the future, but this was the best that Harry had, and for some strange reason, Greyclaw was satisfied with it.

After he'd finished scribbling down everything, Harry's hand was aching from writing so much. Finally though, the heredity parchment was ready.

Harry gingerly took it in his hands, as if afraid that it would break. He took a careful look at it.

The parchment, from top to bottom, was covered in a spidery script of various colours.

It didn't show more of his family tree than his great-grandparents on both sides of his family, but that was already more than he had known before.

In the first row stood, dark and glaring against the soft background colour of the parchment, his own name. Then it continued further.

Harry James Potter (unknown – )

James Charlus Potter (unknown – unknown) – father

Lily Rose Potter née Evans (unknown – unknown) – mother

Fleamont Potter (1885 – unknown) – paternal grandfather

Euphemia Potter née Bellamonte (1890 – unknown) – paternal grandmother

Jonathan Evans (1931 – unknown) – maternal grandfather

Rose Dahlia Evans née Evermore (1935 – unknown) – maternal grandmother

Henry Charlus Potter (1853 – unknown) – paternal great grandfather

Anastasia Aurora Potter née Greengrass (1865 – 1944) – paternal great grandmother

Pietro Luca Bellamonte (1862 – 1905) – paternal great grandfather

Emma Lucy Bellamonte née Bones (1869 – unknown) – paternal great grandmother

Charles Evans (1890 – 1942) – maternal great grandfather

Dorothy Evans née Riemann (1900 – 1949) – maternal great grandmother

Jonas Evermore (1902 – unknown) – maternal great grandfather

Yacyntha Evermore née Frost (1907-1935) – maternal great grandmother

Related Old families:

Close relation: Bones, Frost, Greengrass, Bellamonte, Potter

Distant relation: Black, Diggory, Fawley, Lestrange, Lovegood, McLaggen, Peverell

Harry struggled to take in all the information. All of his grandparents were alive! Of course they were, since his parents haven't been born yet, but still. He hadn't thought about that. And his great grandparents… He hadn't even known their names, and now three of them were alive still.

His chest tightened as he came closer and closer to crying as grief overtook him. He held back though, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of the goblin like that. Still, the parchment provided a lot of new knowledge for him and he knew it would take some time for him to accept that even though so many of them were alive right now, he could absolutely not meet them and get to know them. Who knows, after all, how that would affect the future. Maybe he could do something that would result in him preventing his own birth.

Well, with his luck…

"What do the colours mean?" he turned to ask Greyclaw.

He had noticed before, of course, that various names were written in different colours.

His own name, his parents' and everyone's in his dad's side was written in a bright blue colour, most of the names on his mum's side were dark red, and there was one name, Yacyntha Evermore, whose name was written in pale green.

"Blue means witch or wizard. Green means squib, and red means muggle," Greyclaw explained. He no longer looked bored, in fact he looked quite interested as he read through the list as well. "Harry Potter, huh?" he muttered to himself.

"What do we do now?" Harry looked at the goblin questioningly.

"Well, now we start crafting your new identity," came the reply. "We need to decide which family name you want to take on. You cannot keep Potter, of course. That would raise too many questions. Looking at the paternal line, it looks like all the families you are closely related to still have living heirs, so you should not take those names either. It is convenient, however, that your maternal great grandmother was a squib. I remember her, of course. It was quite the scandal, that the sole heir of the Frost family turned out to be a squib. They cast her out, of course, but died in a potion accident before they could sire another one," the goblin told him.

Despite its not particularly happy outcome, Harry was glad to listen to the story since it meant he got to know more about his family.

"Do you know what happened to her?" Harry asked, hoping to hear more of her.

"I do not know for certain, but judging by her death date and your grandmother's birth date, I assume she died of childbirth," Greyclaw stated uncaringly. "The frost family have no more living relatives. They have two vaults in Gringotts, the family vault has a sizable amount of money in it. Not enough to last more than perhaps five to six years, if you choose not to work, but it's something to start with. The family also owns a townhouse in central London and a cottage in the country," Greyclaw shared the new information with him surprisingly eagerly. "I assume you are willing to take on the name Frost?" he looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," mumbled Harry, his brain failing to process all of this new information.

"Great. Please choose a first name you would like to bear from now on, and afterwards I can proceed to create all the necessary documents."

Harry thought about it for a moment. Honestly, he would rather stick to Harry, but he knew that it probably wouldn't be the best idea. Still, he didn't want to change it too much since it also would not do him any good to choose a name that he would have trouble responding to. So, preferably something close to Harry. He took a look at his family tree again and his eyes caught one of the names.

It was perfect.

"Henry," he told the goblin. "Henry Frost."

His voice must have sounded firmer than he'd realised because the goblin looked at him in surprise.

"Middle name?"

"What was the name of Yacyntha's father? I can claim to be her illegitimate child. I think the dates would line up perfectly as well," he said, jotting down some quick calculations on a spare piece of parchment in front of him. "If we calculate my birthday in this time from the day I did the ritual back home, my birthday would come out as 1st December, 1929. She would have been 19 then. Single, with an illegitimate child, there is no way that she would have kept it. She would have become an absolute social outcast everywhere. I think we can use that as a backstory," Harry said, excitedly.

"I see you are getting a hang of it, wizard," Greyclaw said with a smirk. "The father's name was Marcus. Henry Marcus Frost. That would work," he stated. "Alright, wizard. It is now time for the paperwork. Afterwards, we shall go to the Frost family vault to retrieve the Frost family signet ring, and I assume you want some gold as well," the goblin told Harry, or rather, Henry, who nodded. "Alright. What would your date of birth be in this time?"

"First of December, 1926," Henry replied.

"Mother's name Yacyntha Frost, father's name left blank," Greyclaw muttered to himself then stood up. "Well, I have all the information that I need for now so I shall go and acquire your birth certificate. You can stay here but do not touch anything," he ordered.

The goblin quickly left his office and Henry was left to his own devices. He had not noticed it before but now it crashed down on him, just how terribly tired he was as he fought to keep his eyes open. He had had a long day, after all, he had probably been awake for more than 25 hours, quite possibly even 30, depending on what time of the day it was by then. Henry had completely lost track of the time while he had been down underground in the bank. He didn't know how goblins could do it.

Well, they were probably quite used to it by now, he assumed. They had been living in here for centuries, after all, rarely stepping a foot outside of the premises.

What a sad existence, Henry thought.

He didn't notice that his eyelids finally grew so heavy that he couldn't keep them open, and he feel into the hands of the sandman.

Henry was shaken awake by firm hands some time later and he blinked owlishly at who it might be. Maybe Hermione? Or quite possibly Luna. None of the others usually came to visit him after he'd done one of his rituals.

The ritual…

He was instantly alert as he remembered the events that had only happened less than an hour ago.

"Come on wizard, I don't have the whole day," came the grumpy nudging from Greyclaw.

Henry sat up straight in the chair that he had fallen asleep in, blinking away the last wisps of drowsiness from his eyes.

"Here is your new birth certificate," the goblin handed him a piece of parchment that looked very official. Henry ran his fingers through the surface. It felt quite firm, much more durable than regular parchment. It looked really nice, actually. The parchment held his new birth information on it, and it all felt so surreal as Henry read it all again. "Congratulations on your birth, wizard," Greyclaw told him in a humorous voice. Who knew goblins had a sense of humour. Not a good one, but still.

"Thank you, I guess," Henry replied hesitantly.

"Come on, we need to go ti your family vault and then I want you out of my sight for the foreseeable future."

Henry obeyed Greyclaw's order as he got up. They made their way to one of the carts that lead down to the lower levels of the bank, where the vaults could be found. For the first time in a long time Henry found the cart ride to be extremely unpleasant but thankfully it was over soon. The goblin opened the Frost vault and Harry took a look around.

In the middle there was a large table with only a couple artefacts on it, Henry assumed these were seemed most important to the family. The sides of the rooms were adorned by floor to ceiling shelves packed full of neat stacks of coins. There were other items scattered around as well, like sculptures, paintings, swords and the like, but Henry paid no attention to them.

He walked to the table in the middle and took a look at the objects he found there. One of them was a palm sized box which Greyclaw gestured him to take.

Henry opened the box and found the Frost signet ring laying inside. The ring itself wasn't particularly fancy, it looked like a regular signet ring with an intricately engraved F in the middle to act as a wax stamp on official correspondence. Harry put the ring on the pointer finger of his left hand, just like he'd seen numerous wizards wear them.

After that, he picked up a pouch that was also on the table and went to the walls. He took a couple handfuls of galleons and sickles, and filled the pouch to the brim. There must have been a featherlight charm on it since it felt no heavier than before.

"You should leave your birth certificate here, you definitely do not want to lose it," the goblin advised him. Henry took the advice and placed the parchment on the table, next to the signet ring's box. When he was done, he turned back to face the goblin. "It appears that we are done here," Greyclaw said and opened the vault door again, letting Henry leave first.

They both got into the cart and it took them to the ground level of the bank, and Greyclaw lead Henry to the entrance hall, which was bustling with wizards and witches conducting their business. It appeared that more time had passed than Henry had originally anticipated.

"It was a pleasure working with you, master Greyclaw," Henry stated, bowing his head to the goblin.

"You as well, Lord Frost," the goblin replied, surprising Henry. However, before he could ask what the creature had meant, the door was closed behind him and Greyclaw was nowhere to be found.

Henry suppressed a yawn and decided to ask for an explanation on that at a later date. His brain would not be able to process any more information anyways, he desperately needed sleep.

Trying to avoid contact with everyone, he quickly walked out of the bank and through the busy main street of Diagon Alley. When he successfully made his way to the Leaky Cauldron, he let out a sigh of relief. He couldn't spot the bartender-receptionist at first glance so he stood by the bar.

"'lo, 'ow can I 'elp?" asked someone from behind him.

Not having enough energy to properly take a look around him, Henry bit out "Room for the night, please."

"'Aight, lad. Anything else? Food?" the barman asked and Henry realised how absolutely famished he was.

"Yes, please. Can you take it up to my room?" he asked.

"Of course, don' worry 'bout it," came the reply along with a key to a room.

Without waiting for anything else, Henry stumbled up the stairs, opened the door and carefully locked it behind him, and fell face first on the bed, falling asleep immediately, without sparing any thought to his current troubles.