"Now then! Our first order of business will be to visit Gringotts." McGonagall declared, peering over her glasses at the Grangers. "Gringotts is the most commonly used wizarding bank in the wizarding world, as well as the most secure. It is run by goblins-"
"Goblins?" Harold asked suddenly, eyes going wide as he took that in.
"Yes, Mister Granger, goblins," McGonagall confirmed, looking a tad amused at his incredulous expression. "It was decided after a treaty was reached after the last of their rebellions. I advise you to be on your best behaviour and as polite as possible. Goblins are far more receptive to those who treat them with respect. Despite their many rebellions and subsequent treaties, many of the more… traditional members of our society treat Goblins as no more than fancy house elves. I would not recommend following their examples. Goblins can turn quite nasty when they want to, however, it does make them an excellent choice for protecting one's valuables so long as they're all kept in one spot. They love having valuables within their possession you see, so they like to have as much stored with them as possible. You'd be hard-pressed to find a safer place, other than perhaps Hogwarts itself."
As McGonagall was explaining this they walked through Diagon Alley, taking in the sights. It was amazing, seeing so many wizards and witches walking around, catching letters from owls out of the air like it was an everyday occurrence (which in this street it probably was) and there were so many unique and interesting stores dotted about.
Twilfitt and Tattings, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Slug and Jigger's apothecary—Harry could practically hear Hermione drooling when they spotted Flourish and Blotts at the same time, though privately he'd be forced to admit he wasn't much better. His sister had long since infected him with the joy of reading, and reading about a real magical world?
To keep himself from running off from the group there and then, he grabbed his sister's wrist and rushed to keep up with their parents and escort. It was a bit hard not to bump into anyone with his bangs in his face (McGonagall had waved her wand right as they were walking in to cover his scar with his bangs) but they caught up.
"Um, Professor? What exactly is a house elf?" He asked confused and the woman stopped in her tracks for a moment, looking conflicted. After a moment she sighed.
"I suppose I should have chosen a better example; house elves are quite hard to explain to muggles without it seeming… cruel." She said, making the Grangers feel a tad on easy. "Think of them as magical butlers with a very loyal streak, who are magically bound to respond to every command their owner gives."
"Owner?!" Joan asked, looking appalled. "Like a slave?!"
"And this is precisely why house elves and other subjects should really be explained ahead of time, Albus." Harry heard the woman mutter under her breath, before looking up. "It is not the best look, I understand, and unfortunately, at least where some purebloods are concerned, it's as bad as it sounds. However, one must keep in mind that, with very few exceptions, house elves suffer from a sort of magical poisoning if they are not bound to someone. Kinder owners leave the option open to their elves if they wish to be given clothes and find a new life, though typically these are also the elves least likely to want such a thing. House elves do tend to be… more problematic when they have bad owners, so it is not as though they are incapable of acting on their own accords so long as they are not specifically bound not to."
"So they have to have an owner or they die?" Asked Harry, uncertainly. And the elderly witch nodded curtly. Harry shuddered and his sister and parents looked a tad uneasy but they decided to drop the issue for the moment, not sure what to say to that.
"Ah, here we are," McGonagall announced suddenly, and looking up, Harry saw a building as white as snow that towered over everything else in Diagon Alley. It had bronze, burnished doors and to either side were what must have been goblins, who had swarthy faces with wrinkled tight skin and small eyes, big pronounced noses, and large ears who bowed as they approached.
Harry awkwardly bowed slightly back, and a brief look of contemplation seemed to pass the small creature's face before it went back to a neutral expression and stood up.
"Very good, Mister Potter," McGonagall said quietly, and his family followed his example. They made their way up the stairs and as they walked inside they came to a second set of doors that had a large inscription in them.
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"So…." Harry blinked, taking it in. "Their defence is writing poetry?"
"No, obviously they sing sonnets when people go near other people's stuff," Hermione answered her brother sarcastically, making him mock glare at her.
"You joke, but I would not recommend taking the actual defences so lightly,." Their escort said with her lips pressed thin. "Goblins do not answer to the same rules and laws as wizards. These defences could be, and more than likely are, very deadly if you go against them."
"…Definitely secure then," Joan muttered in a small voice and McGonagall nodded gravely, before turning to the family.
"Now then, we have our usual order of business with a muggle-born family, in setting up an account for Miss Granger. However, with you, there is also a special matter I would recommend we deal with first."
"A special matter, professor?" Hermione questioned, getting a nod in response.
"You see, your brother's birth parents made preparations in case anything were to happen to them so that Mister Potter would not lose any of what would rightfully belong to him. Included in that was the Potter vault, which he will be able to request the key for when he becomes of age in the wizarding world." The bespectacled witch informed them, surprising them all and making Harry's mouth drop open.
"My parents left me some money?" he asked, surprised.
"Oh they left more than just 'some' money, Mister Potter, but that's for another day. For now, there is a smaller vault attached to the main Potter vault that was left to you by Lily and James. Professor Dumbledore was assigned to look after the key to the vault until it was opened, then was to give the key to you." McGonagall reached into her robes and pulled out a small golden key. "He entrusted me with the delivery, as I would be taking you all around Diagon Alley anyways. Please, follow me."
And she strode off ahead, the Grangers lagging behind a bit, exchanging looks of surprise at the reveal of the vault. However, after a moment Harold managed a smile.
"Well, this will be good for you Harry. You'll get to find some items that belonged to your birth parents." He said and Harry nodded, thinking about what he might find and slowly going from shocked to excited.
"Don't set your expectations too high," Joan warned, however. "There's a chance it might only be money if it's some form of extra vault. Of course, that begs the question of how much is there?"
They reached the counter and McGonagall spoke for them, dropping the key onto the desk. "Mister Potter would like to access his vault please, and he will be accompanied by me and his adoptive family."
The goblin sat at the reception desk looked up, raising a thin eyebrow. He was even more wrinkled than the goblins outside, showing his age, along with his balding ahead that had a few grey strands of hair clinging to it. He took the key in his small hand, long fingers wrapping around it as he inspected it skeptically, before looking satisfied with whatever he found.
"Adoptive family? Family Name?" The goblin inquired, waving a little hand with very long fingers over his desk.
"Granger."
"Muggles?"
"Except for his sister, she is muggleborn. We will be making a vault for her once we are finished with the business of Potter's trust vault."
The Grangers all shared looks at that, Joan and Harold especially going wide-eyed. As far as they knew from their own muggle world, trust funds which were presumably the muggle equivalent of trust vaults were only given to rich kids. The Grangers weren't poor by any means, in fact, Harold and Joan made a substantial amount of money from their dental practice, but to have enough money to set up a trust vault?
If that was what they thought it was, how rich was Harry?!
"There will be no need to set one up for her." The goblin said, the ghost of a smirk on his face. "As it turns out, Mister Potter's parents had a clause included in the terms when they set up. This is the clause verbatim, as the previous owner of the vault wrote it. 'I, James Henry Potter, declare that in the event of my demise, the Potter vault will be transferred to my wife Lily Potter nee Evans. Should she, for any reason, be unable to take ownership of the vault, ownership should be transferred to my son, Harry James Potter, to take full control when he turns seventeen. Until such time, he is permitted full access to his trust vault which will be refilled annually with money from the main Potter vault to the initial amount present when the trust vault was set up.'"
"Well, we knew that much already," McGonagall assured the goblin, who nodded.
"Of course, however, there is an extra clause here that will be important with your situation. Verbatim, it reads: 'In the event that Harry is adopted by a muggle family, a muggleborn family, or a wizarding family without the necessary amount of money to put them and all other children they may have through seven years at Hogwarts, the parents of such a family will be granted temporary ownership of the main Potter vault until Harry is of age.'"
McGonagall went wide-eyed at this herself, clearly shocked as the rest of them by this turn of events. Harold looked like he was going to faint while Joan was frozen, mouth hanging slightly open.
Hermione was grinning madly as the implications set in.
"'Additionally, should Harry have any magical siblings with his adoptive family, as the current owner of the Potter vault, I do hereby authorize those siblings to share the trust vault left to Harry James Potter, all galleons, sickles, and knuts to be split evenly amongst them.'" The goblin folded the paper up and put it away, a glint of amusement in his eyes when he saw the amazed looks on all their faces. "So, there is no need to set up a vault for Miss Granger. She already has one."
"…Well, that is certainly… surprising, but very useful indeed," McGonagall said after a moment, coming back to her senses and turning to the Grangers. "You have no objections to this?"
"Uh, no ma'am," Harold said after a moment, getting his wife to walk with him as they all approached.
"You are the patriarch of the Granger family?" The goblin asked and their father nodded after a moment. "Follow me, please. I will deal with the transference of the vault ownership. As for the rest of you, please follow Griphook, he will lead you to the trust vault."
A small black-haired goblin walked up to them, taking the key from the receptionist, and bowed slightly to the group, who all bowed back. There was a moment of shock on the Goblin's part before the ghost of a smile could be seen on his face and he made a gesture for the family to follow.
"Professor McGonagall?" Joan spoke up, leading her children by the hand now to keep track of them (and keep herself grounded with this new reality), reaching the elderly witch's side. "What exactly were those things the goblin was talking about? Sickles, galleons, and knuts?"
"Ah, of course. I forgot you use a different form of currency. Those are the forms of wizarding currency." McGonagall explained patiently, pulling a few coins out of her pocket. "The bronze ones are knuts, they have the least value. Silver are sickles, they are the medium value of the lot. Finally, gold are galleons which have the highest value. Its twenty-nine knuts to a sickle, and seventeen sickles to a galleon."
"That's…. confusing." Harry froweds. McGonagall didn't have a response for him, instead regarding them all at once.
"I believe a galleon is equivalent to twenty-five British pounds, a sickle is equivalent to one pound and a Knut is equivalent to twenty-five pence. I believe that is more comprehensive for you?" She explained and they nodded.
"But couldn't I trade a galleon for twenty five pound then come back to trade and end up with more then one galleon?" Hermione pondered
"No." The stern witch said with certainty. "Previously traded money is magically recognized. Goblins do not take lightly to trickery. Should anyone try to swindle them in such a way, I can assure they will regret it. As for money that has not been previously traded, unless you have the time to learn two hundred plus years of Goblin history, Arithmancy and devote your mind to hours of studying to try and comprehend the many inner-workings of Gringotts where even the likes of Headmaster Dumbledore have failed, I would assume knowing that they merely give a faux number muggleborns can understand would suit you better? The exact number is much harder to pin down, we merely gave the example of muggle currency numbers so you have a general idea of the value of things you buy. The Goblins work on conversion is done completely magically; not mathematically."
"Arithamncy? Goblin history?! Oh that sounds so interesting! I'll have to look for some books on them!" Hermione said, completely missing the sarcastic side to the professors explanation. Harry was content to let it be himself, the only part he really needed to understand was that the currency could be used in a way he wouldn't struggle with. McGonagall looked like she might have been suppressing a smile but they had no idea why. "You do not get nauseous easily, I trust?"
"Nauseous? Not usually. Why?" Joan wondered.
They found out five minutes later when they were hurtling down into the caverns of Gringotts on a rickety railway in a small cart that could barely fit them all, stalagmites and stalactites blurring as they whizzed past.
Harry was whooping excitedly, loving it, McGonagall somehow kept her face her usual stern visage, and Harry's sister and mother screamed for dear life as they held each other tight.
Soon enough they were in front of the Potter Vault, Hermione and their mother holding each other tight as they got their bearings while McGonagall had to reign in Harry's excitement from the adrenaline he'd gotten from the ride.
Soon enough, after Joan loudly cursed the entire magical world for having no concept of seatbelts, they followed Griphook up to the vault and he inserted the key.
After a moment, green smoke poured out and the door slid away, McGonagall ushering them inside and when they came in their eyes widened once more at the sheer amount of coins they saw. Harry's heart nearly stopped. There were mounds upon mounds upon mounds of gold, silver, and bronze. Even McGonagall looked somewhat surprised as she looked around.
Griphook waved a hand and suddenly it separated into exactly half, looking perfectly even on either side. Harry assumed this was to separate his money from Hermione's.
Somehow, though he wasn't sure how he managed through his shock, Harry approached the goblin who had taken them here. "Um… sorry, excuse me Mister Griphook, sir?"
He raised a brow at the way the boy addressed him before responding. "Yes, Mister Potter?"
"How much money is this exactly?" He inquired, having no idea what to expect. Hermione looked like she was trying to count it all from sight alone, he noticed out the corner of his eye.
"This is the Potter trust vault, so if I remember correctly, the terms stated that this vault is refilled annually on the first of August every year, to a certain capacity. That capacity is meant to be twenty thousand knuts-" What? "-nine hundred and ninety-five sickles-" What?! "-and two hundred thousand galleons, Mister Potter."
WHAT?!
Hermione had a look in her eyes she always got when she was solving a maths problem and, rather quickly, let out a gasp of shock before turning with a sparkle in her eyes. "Harry! That's six million pounds! That's three million to each of us!"
…
There was a sudden thud as their mother fainted.
"If she faints at this, you might need a medic on sight for when she hears how much is in the main vault," Griphook said, sounding faintly amused. As if sensing Harry's next question, he looked up. "This vault compromises a mere zero point six percent of the Potter fortune, in pure value."
"That..." His sister met his eye as her voice turned faint as she was stunned. "A billion… my brother's a billionaire."
And she promptly followed her mother in fainting. McGonagall sniffed.
"They don't faint often, do they? I would prefer not to have to interrupt my classes due to constant fainting spells when Miss Granger arrives at Hogwarts," she asked conversationally. Harry shook his head lightly as he sat down for a moment.
"Sorry, I need a moment…"
"It's completely understandable, Mister Potter. I knew your father was well off but it was never truly impressed on me just by how much." The elderly witch said as Hermione and Joan were suddenly waking up with a wave of Griphook's hand.
After a few moments, where McGonagall ascertained the two women were okay, Griphook took Hermione's full name and keyed her magical signature to the leftmost pile of coins.
McGonagall helped them pick a decent amount of money for the shopping they would need to do as well as have some spending money left over. They picked up a bit more than they might usually, as they had no idea what they might encounter in this regard and they had no idea if they would be coming back any time soon.
"Is there any chance we could slow down on the way back up?" Joan practically pleaded when they all climbed back into the cart. Griphook smiled nastily.
"One speed only."
And off they went, screams and whoops and the stern silent McGonagall gaze filling the cave once more. Soon enough, they came out above and walked into the hall where a very shell-shocked looking Harold met them.
He looked like he might faint as well when they explained each of his kids now were now millionaires by muggle standards, however, he bravely held on and the group made their way outside, coming up to a store called Madam Malkin's.
"Now then, I am not needed back at Hogwarts for a few hours yet. I quite understand if you all wish to look around and take your time to familiarise yourselves with the area. Once we've got robes, I would recommend splitting up so we do not take up too much space," McGonagall announced. She quickly informed the parents of what shops they'd need to go to for what items. "Every shopkeeper on this alley is more or less friendly and accommodating for muggles, though I warn you some may tease you a bit about the magic world. I once saw Winter Bottlebrush in Winter's Wizarding Wonderland convince a muggle mother that giants could lay dragon's eggs. Utter nonsense of course."
The family just nodded, having no idea how to respond, silently reeling from the revelation of giants and potentially dragons existing.
"Anyways, aside from that, they will be quite glad to help you get your items, and we have dealt with the tricky part in dealing with Gringotts. Merely stay away from Knockturn Alley and try to stay on this street from here to the Alley we came from, and it should be perfectly fine for you to explore on your own. We can meet up at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour two hours after splitting up. That will give us all plenty of time to obtain school items and some time for simple browsing. I think it would be best if I were to remain with Mister Potter, in case anyone recognizes them. I will be able to head them off."
Everyone nodded at that and Joan stepped forward. "In that case, I think it will be best if Harold goes with Hermione. Do you think it will be better if I also go with you and Harry?"
"Actually, Mrs. Granger, it may be more prudent to stick together. While no one can do anything actively malicious to you on Diagon Alley, it is still better for muggle parents to stick together in case of any… pranksters," McGonagall said, wrinkling her nose at the word. Harry supposed she must have known one or two based on that reaction. "So long as you're both together, no one will dare try it when you're with your daughter. Strength in numbers and a muggleborn child with you."
"They'll be less likely to do it because of Hermione?" Harry asked, confused. "But she hasn't failed an exam, she isn't in her scary mode yet."
"Prat." Hermione flicked his ear, making him snicker and the parents roll their eyes. McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Yes, Mister Potter, they will as there have been a few incidents in the past where accidental magic happened when muggleborn children have seen their parents be hit by even harmless jinxes. No one with half a brain is risking blowing up Ollivanders for a practical joke."
"I suppose that makes sense." Joan nodded, though she looked slightly worried. "But you're sure it will be okay if Harry's just with you? We don't want to leave him if he doesn't want to."
"Oh, it's perfectly up to yourselves of course but based on her earlier reaction, I believe Miss Granger may enjoy the extra time to peruse the books in Flourish and Blotts? If possible there is an extra shop I would like to show Mister Potter on the way."
There were a few more minutes of conversation as they worked out what to do but ultimately, the issue was settled in the exact way McGonagall had suggested, with her accompanying Harry while their parents went with Hermione.
There had been a brief moment of confusion when they'd walked in to Madam Malkins and both brother and sister had been measured at the same time before they realized that they wouldn't need changing rooms because robes would go over their normal clothes.
Madam Malkin herself had been pleasant if a bit too chatty. Not that Harry meant that to be rude, but he wasn't sure how the woman expected him to understand half of what she said while a robe we bunched up over his head covering his ears. (Hermione couldn't stop giggling when he accidentally tripped on the fabric, Harry was so going to make the tap at home splash in her face as revenge.)
Then finally, after paying three galleons each for their robes, they had set off.
"Be safe, sweetheart, and be good for professor McGonagall." Harry's mother had instructed, kissing his head and making him whine embarrassed and his father laughed and clapped his shoulder before they both went to Hermione, who waved excitedly.
"See you soon!" She giggled suddenly. "Bet I have the better wand!"
"Oh, we'll see about that." Harry playfully stuck his tongue out, making the girl giggle as she grabbed her father's hand. Of course, his sister immediately dragged their parents right to Flourish and Blotts, making Harry chuckle at her predictability.
"Well, I must admit Mister Potter, it does my heart good to see you have found a family like the Grangers to care for you," McGonagall said from his side, making him look up. "Lily and James would approve."
"They would? You knew my parents, professor?" Harry asked in surprise, and the woman gave a curt nod as she started walking across the street, Harry following along.
"Indeed. I was their head of house at Hogwarts, so I was the teacher responsible for looking after them. Both could be handfuls in their own special ways but I admit, there are few students I've had that I've been more proud to call my friends than them. They were both extremely clever in their own right, even if your father had a… penchant for being lazy about it."
Harry thought he saw the ghost of a smile on the older witch's face. They came up to a shop called Ollivander's, McGonagall pushing the door open and ushering the raven-haired wizard inside.
"You look a lot like him. Except for your eyes." McGonagall did smile slightly, Harry was sure he saw it, as the woman straightened up. "Everyone always said it. Your father's looks, but your mother's eyes. Now, I can tell you more later, and I'm sure there are plenty of others you'll encounter soon who may also be willing to tell you tales of them. We are still here on business, Mister Potter."
McGonagall tapped a bell at the desk and a moment later, an old man with a fancy but old looking suit that would fit right in in the Victorian era emerged, his pale wide eyes reminding Harry of moons.
"Professor McGonagall. Good afternoon. Fir wood, nine and a quarter inches, and a heartstring core, I believe? Rather stiff." His large eyes moved down to Harry and he slowly walked around the counter. "Ah, yes. I thought I'd be meeting you soon, Mister Potter."
"You know me, sir?" Harry asked, before wincing. Stupid question, he realized a tad too late.
"Oh, the whole wizarding world does, Mister Potter. It feels like only just yesterday I was serving a redhead with those same eyes as yours her first wand. Willow, ten and a quarter inches, rather swishy. Brilliant for charms."
"Garrick," McGonagall spoke up in what sounded like a warning tone, yet the man, other than sparing her a glance, continued on pressing closer to Harry who was starting to feel very uncomfortable.
"Of course, Professor McGonagall likely would have preferred the work of your father's wand. Mahogany, eleven inches, pliable. An extraordinary little wand for transfiguration. Even before that, I can scarcely believe it was more than half a century ago that I—"
"Ollivander!" McGonagall shouted suddenly, her voice sharp. "He's eleven. He needs a wand, not horror stories."
"Of course. My apologies." The elderly man said, standing up, though he looked somewhat put out. He then snapped his finger and suddenly a measuring tape appeared. "Wand arm, Mister Potter?"
"Uh… I'm right-handed?"
Ollivander nodded and the tape measure began measuring his arm, before suddenly going on to measure other things such as his head, his legs, the distance between his feet, and the size of his eyeball.
All the while, the owner of the shop had disappeared into the back and Harry could hear rattling coming from inside before Ollivander suddenly brought out a large pile of wands. He took one out and put it in Harry's hand.
"Dragon heartstring. Six and a half inches. Cedar wood. Give it a wave Mister Potter," Ollivander said and Harry did so. He felt a very slight tingle but Ollivander didn't look impressed, taking it away and coming back with another. "Teak wood, unicorn hair, twelve inches."
But once more, there was nothing more than a small tingle. This went on for quite some time as well, sometimes there would be more of a pull, sometimes he even thought he saw the tip starting to light up. Other times, Ollivander would have barely given it to him before snatching it back and coming back with another.
"Elm, Heartstring, five inches. Rather small."
"Ash, phoenix feather, eight and three-quarter inches. Anything?"
"A tricky customer, indeed. Not to worry Mister Potter, your mother took some time to find her wand as well. Let's try this one, Walnut, Unicorn Hair, fourteen inches."
"Perhaps a pine wand with a heartstring core? Seven inches- No no no, that isn't right."
Then finally, after what felt like hours but in reality was probably only ten minutes at most, Ollivander emerged one last time, looking at Harry as though he was some kind of bizarre creature.
"I do wonder… try this one, Mister Potter. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather." He explained, putting the wand into Harry's hand and the second he grabbed Harry just knew it was right for him. He could feel it in his very soul, the same feeling he got every time he used his telekinesis.
Without hesitation, he swung the wand down and there was an explosion of sparks from the tip, causing Ollivander to cheer.
"Oh bravo! But… curious… very curious." He said, suddenly going quiet. Harry looked up, and as if sensing the boy's question, he started creeping closer. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mister Potter. Every single wand. And it just so happens that the phoenix who gave the feather for this wand gave another one, a single other feather. I remember that wand very well, it was powerful. Very powerful. Yew, Thirteen and a half inches."
He then very suddenly put a finger on Harry's forehead, making the boy stiffen a bit. McGonagall said something but Harry didn't hear it, his focus on the man who said something that took all of Harry's attention. "It's curious you should be destined for this wand… when its brother gave you this very scar."
Harry felt ice in his blood.
"That's enough, Ollivander!" McGonagall chastised, taking out her pouch and putting several galleons down. "There, ten. That should be more than enough, now that you're finished scaring children. Come along, Mister Potter."
And suddenly Harry was being led out the door, wand in hand. Ollivander shouted something about a wand box but it was ignored. After a few moments, McGonagall took a deep breath and turned to her charge.
"Apologies, Mister Potter. Ollivander has always been a… difficult man who doesn't realize the impact of his words. Please, give me your wand and I'll keep it holstered while we're out. It's considered bad form to walk with one's wand in grasp unless you are expecting to be attacked."
Harry did so, feeling reluctant. "Professor? …What does it mean, me having the same wand as Voldemort?"
After she flinched, giving Harry a slightly hard look, she spoke. "It means nothing, Mister Potter. Brother wands share cores, and that is it. There may be some unique properties where the wands themselves meet but that is all there is to it. It's likely just a coincidence. Do not concern yourself with it." She assured him. "And please, say You-Know-Who."
"….Professor?" Harry said, lightly as he could tell she was a strict woman so she might not like what he was about to say. "I understand he was a bad guy but aren't you giving him what he wants by refusing to speak his name? He was a bad guy but I'd never know immediately who you were talking about by just saying You-Know-Who and that."
"Be that as it may, Mister Potter, people are still scared," She explained slowly, pressing her lips thin. Harry pressed on, however.
"Yes but… It feels like it would be an insult to my parents. They died to protect me, and they were fighting precisely so people could say the name. I can understand being afraid, and I understand he was horrible, but I don't think that should be a reason to give him what he wanted." Harry said determinedly, and McGonagall stopped for a moment, looking at him. For one moment, Harry thought she was going to get him in trouble but instead she merely sighed.
"Very well. I have a feeling the headmaster will be very pleased to hear you say that. Your wand core still means nothing, Mister Potter. From what I have observed so far you are already very different from You…. V-Voldemort."
She shuddered as she said it but Harry was pleased to see her make the effort. Her words also helped him feel better about his own wand, even if he was still somewhat weirded out by it.
They went to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary next, picking up all the items and ingredients they'd need. Harry had been very interested when he'd heard McGonagall mention they would be mainly for Potions work and missed the woman wincing when he said Potions sounded like it would be a nice class.
She told him quite plainly if there was one thing he should read up on as much as possible before arriving, it was potions as they had the highest rate of accidents when not handled properly, though Harry could have sworn she was trying to hint something else when she said it, not that Harry got whatever it might be.
They then set off again, ingredients and protective gloves in tow, going to buy a cauldron and a telescope. Once they had those, Harry had his list in hand again, going over it to see what else there was.
Curious, he spoke up. "Professor? Why aren't first years allowed their own brooms anyway?"
"It's to keep flying lessons as effective as possible." She explained, stopping near a shop entitled Quality Quidditch Supplies. "It's so you all learn at the same level, how to handle new brooms. Having your own may make it work better for you than a school broom but it will also be problematic due to the fact you will never learn how to use other brooms so when your own eventually breaks, you may not be able to pick up a new one. It saves the embarrassment of the student and the time of the flying instructor if we do not have to give them lessons later on in life."
Harry nodded his understanding. That more or less made sense to him, mostly. He supposed the muggle stereotype of witches on brooms was actually somewhat correct then.
"Now that you have reminded me, however… I will not be showing favouritism Mister Potter, but I do wish to show you something. Follow me." She said, walking up to the aforementioned Quidditch shop and going inside. Harry was right behind her and was surprised to see it was one of the most packed shops around.
There were odd little golden winged balls zipping around in little glass boxes, a newton's cradle made of black iron balls that looked very aggressive and seemed to be smashing against each other on their own, and there was some kind of catapult contraption throwing a red ball about the same size as a football back and forward.
Up above, there were dozens of broomsticks on display, from very basic looking spindly ones to sleek works of art painted all black.
"Ah, Minerva. It's been a while since I've seen you in here!" An old woman with short greying hair and a squat stature at the counter laughed.
McGonagall nodded curtly. "Well, it's not for long, Braxley. I'm only here for a few moments as I wish to show my current charge something related to brooms, then I'll be on my way. I believe Rolanda may be by before the new term however, the school quaffles are all battered and one of our bludgers is very noncommittal in trying to smash open the player's heads anymore."
Harry looked at the woman with wide eyes. Smashing people's heads open?!
Yet neither seemed to notice, the woman at the counter just laughed. "Now now, you know that hasn't happened for years. Anyways, the broom section is where it's always been. Have a good day, Minerva."
"You too." McGonagall nodded and ushered Harry along to a section where there were even more brooms on display. McGonagall took him up to one labeled a 'Cleansweep Six', which looked mostly like a normal sweeping broom except for a metal cap on the end and a seat like a bicycle. "I wanted to show this Mister Potter because this is the type of broom James used to ride."
Harry let out a small sound of delight at that, getting to see something like that even if it wasn't his father's own.
"He played for his house team, and he was one of the best players we ever had. I thought you'd appreciate seeing this before we move on."
Harry nodded, eyes sparkling behind his round glasses as he smiled brightly. "I really do. Thank you, professor."
He didn't realize in his delight he completely forgot to ask what sport his father played. What sport involved a broomstick?
It never occurred to him to question it as they walked out once more and began making their way down to Flourish and Blotts to pick up his textbooks. On the way, however, McGonagall seemed to notice something in one of the shops, stopping before changing direction and walking into it. "Apologies Mister Potter, I'll try to make this delay brief."
They walked up to a shop entitled 'Bewitching Enchantments and Enchanting Bewitchments' which Harry personally thought was too much of a mouthful for a name, entering into a relatively peaceful and quiet shop. It was covered end to end in all sorts of interesting and odd items, however, as well as mundane and very normal ones. From floating jewelry boxes to plain old regular wardrobes.
Up ahead, they stopped just in time to come up to a pale man in a purple robe, looking over several bangles which had a sign above them, declaring some to be normal and some to be bewitched.
"Professor Quirrell," McGonagall spoke up and the man jumped, turning around. One of his eyes was twitching and he looked like he was shaking slightly.
"O-Oh h-h-hello P-P-Professor McGonagall. What l-l-lovely s-surprise!" He said, looking like he wanted to run from the woman immediately.
"Yes, I was surprised to see you too," McGonagall said, sounding kinder than she usually did. "I'm currently dealing with one of my charges and I thought it would be good to introduce you both early. Mister Potter, this is Professor Quirrell. He will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class when you go to school. Professor, I'm sure you've heard of Mister Potter."
Quirrell's eyes went comically wide and he immediately held out a hand which Harry took hesitantly, shaking it. "A p-pleasure, Mister P-P-Potter. Very p-p-pleased to meet you."
"You too, Sir," Harry said, having no idea what else to say, as Quirrell let go.
"I w-w-was just browsing t-these trinkets here for a c-c-class in future, learning to t-t-tell the difference b-b-between c-charmed and hexed i-items and how to tell when there is s-spells on them at a-all," The stuttering professor explained. "M-Mind you, you of a-all people p-probably don't need the class."
"Now Quirrell, he was just a baby. I highly doubt he has a mastery over Defense Against The Dark Arts due to a fluke," McGonagall said and Quirrell nodded bashfully. "Mister Potter, why don't you browse the shop for a few moments while I talk to Professor Quirrell? Do not leave, however."
"Alright, thank you, professor. Nice to meet you, professor." Harry said, nodding at the stuttering man and walking off to look around. It was definitely interesting to see the difference between muggle items and magical ones, though some were questionable. He could understand the appeal of a mirror that could give you advice on your looks, but who wanted a drawer that randomly threw out the items in it? Or a straw that melted in the middle of drinking? And was the chair that whipped whoever sat on it if they said certain words really legal?
Harry soon found himself, amusingly enough, heading towards the muggle item section. An entire world of magic at his fingertips and he was walking right towards the usual muggle stuff. He couldn't resist his curiosity though on what might be there.
There was the usual stuff dotted around, drawers and chairs and carpets and more drawers, cups and straws and plates and cutlery galore, but a very interesting section that caught Harry's attention immediately was a section dedicated to music albums.
It was filled up with cover art all holding vinyl discs, it would appear. He wondered if wizards could just tap them with a wand and mutter some spell to make them play without a gramophone.
He looked along the section and was surprised when he noticed a young witch the same age as him looking at the albums as well. She wore a hot pink sundress, grey tights, a light pink hoodie she had failed to zip up, and black flats. She had very pretty platinum blonde hair and when she turned Harry was able to see she had vibrant blue eyes, as well as a small button nose and small lips.
Her face contorted in shock, looking as though she'd been caught committing a murder and she immediately spoke up, sounding defensive. "A-Ah, um… I'm just wandering about. No real interest in these. Why would I?"
Well, that wasn't suspicious at all.
"I mean there's nothing wrong with it if you are, is there?" Harry shrugged and the girl noticeably relaxed.
"Ah, right… Just some people you know. Get uppity if you so much as look at muggles. Doesn't make sense if you ask me, acting like they're beneath us when they're just human like us, they're just missing a trait," she said, doing a complete one-eighty. Harry supposed she must be a pureblood then, as that sounded like the supremacist way of thinking, though he was glad to see she didn't seem to agree with it. She quickly looked up. "They have some really nice music though, don't get to listen to it much. I mean, I love all music but muggle music has this… very imaginative element to it that really interests me. Daphne Greengrass, by the way. Who are you, if I may ask?"
"Harry-" He was about to say his full name but remembering what his name would do and the fact they were trying to hide his presence, Harry opted to exclude the Potter part of his name. "-Granger. Harry Granger. Nice to met you."
"Nice to meet you too. Muggleborn then?" She inquired curiously, looking around and biting her lip as if waiting for something to attack.
"Half-blood," Harry answered honestly. "My father was pureblood, my mother was a muggleborn."
"Oh, that's interesting." Daphne smiled, and she did sound genuinely interested. "It's always nice to hear about purebloods who can love muggleborns. Are they with you?"
"No, they're…. gone." Harry said sadly, and Daphne's eyes flashed with sympathy. "But I have an amazing family who adopted me. They were all muggles but my sister turned out to be a witch by coincidence."
"Oh, that's really fortunate!" The blonde smiled, before giggling with good humour. Harry had to admit, though privately and only in his own head of course, that it was very cute. "And I bet you get to hear plenty of their music if that's the case."
"Dad never stops playing Queen songs in the house." Harry grinned. "Drives mum mental. Especially when my sister starts singing along."
Unfortunately, their conversation didn't get too much further than that, as a woman with long black hair and blue eyes that seemed to be judging everything they took in appeared, who wore a long navy blue silk dress and a circlet of some kind. Harry was strongly reminded of royalty but he could tell with a single once over, her personality would be more wicked step-mother than Cinderella.
"Daphne!" She barked, sounding displeased. "How dare you come near this… filth. How many times have I told you this stuff is beneath us?!"
"Sorry mother…" Daphne said in a suddenly dull, empty tone. Harry was disturbed to see her go stock still, as though scared to move.
It disturbed him because he used to do the same thing when he didn't want to anger the Dursleys when they were in the same room.
"You will be if I catch you with this muggle nonsense again!" She suddenly rounded on Harry, glaring and sneering. He immediately balled on fist up, ready to use his telekinesis at any moment. "And who on earth are you?"
"Harry, ma'am." He said simply, keeping his full name out of it. She raised a brow.
"And what business do you have in a section like this?" she asked, as though sizing him up. Harry didn't need to be a genius to figure out she was trying to judge if the raven-haired little boy in front of her was 'beneath her', however, he also knew that is she was anything like the Dursleys then Daphne would be in for even more trouble when she found out.
"I'm pureblood if that's what you're asking." He responded cooly, looking her right in the eyes determinedly. "And I'm just exploring while I wait on someone else. Is that all?"
"…Indeed. Well, be careful you don't go looking for things beneath you then unless you want to be a blood traitor." Daphne's mother sniffed, before turning and dragging her daughter by the wrist out of the store. Harry winced in sympathy, wishing he could do more.
"And that, Mister Potter, is unfortunately how most of the supremacists within our society are." McGonagall's sudden voice made Harry jump, and he turned to see her looking more grave. "I assume she ran because she saw me. I see you met the Greengrass'."
"Daphne was nice," Harry said, frowning as he looked out to where the mother and daughter had disappeared. "But her mother…"
"Rosalia Greengrass. She's one of the worst kinds of blood purists there is" McGonagall sighed as she walked on and Harry followed her outside. "I don't believe she was ever an active death eater but she did very heavily support You—V-Voldemort's goals."
Harry frowned at that as they walked down the street. He didn't get much longer to think on it however when they finally arrived at Flourish and Blotts. They picked up all the necessary textbooks first, then Harry had grabbed another book.
"'Owler and Cribbe's Guide to Spellcrafting', Mister Potter? Quite ambitious, is it not?" The transfiguration professor asked with a raised brow.
"Well, you see professor, me and Hermione have been learning Latin for years. Hermione noticed when Professor Dumbledore visited that the spell he used to evaporate the water was a Latin word, so we thought if we learnt more about Latin we could get a better understanding of the spells we might one day be casting and we're also hopeful it will help us understand developing new spells as well."
"Well, it's your own money, Mister Potter, though I admit I am glad to see you both dedicating yourself to learning this way, even if the idea of the son of Lily and James Potter developing his own spells is enough to take years off my life," She said though Harry assumed from her tone she was joking. She became more serious a moment later, however. "I would recommend however if you're going to pick up any books not on the list, to pick up some charms spellbooks. Your special talents seem to be derived from mainly that branch of magic so if you want to learn more those would be your best bet."
Harry nodded and picked up three extra charms books with some guidance from McGonagall, and an extra potions book as a surprise for Hermione once he confirmed with the shopkeeper the Grangers hadn't picked it up when they left.
While McGonagall was charming the books to be feather light, Harry took one last look around and his eyes landed on a paper. On the top of it, in large bold font, it declared itself to be 'THE DAILY PROPHET' and Harry was shocked to see the cover photo was moving.
It was black and white and there appeared to be a family of three posing for it, a mother (presumably) holding a wand while her husband, who had long flowing hair and an elegant face, nodded at the camera, propping himself up with a cane. He had another arm on what was presumably his son's shoulder, a son who looked very snobby in Harry's opinion.
'MALFOY WINS BI-YEARLY CHARMING CHARMS CONTEST; SON GIVEN ALL WINNINGS!
By Minnie Bunyip
Several weeks ago, the notorious and well-respected pureblood family, the Malfoys, were shocked when someone (who at the time of writing is still unknown) managed to forcibly sign them up to the infamous charming charms competition that is held every two years.
Despite this, the Malfoy's were not to be put down. They took it in stride and the matriarch of the house, Narcissa Malfoy, took up her position as the representative of Malfoy house.
There were many tasks and rules, and a lot of challenges, the full details of which can be read on page twenty-six, however in the end Mrs. Malfoy obtained victory with a self-cleaning cleaning kit that cleaned up the entire competition grounds with speed and grace, impressing everyone.
When asked what she'd do with the mystery prize, which is revealed to no one beyond it being known to be a valuable and charmed object, she responded thusly; "I have no need of it. I only joined this competition to make a point to whoever entered us, that we are still powerful even without money and we will not tolerate this kind of foolishness being brought upon our doorstep. I will be giving it to my son, before he attends Hogwarts in a few months' time, as he will likely have more use of it than me."
When interviewed her son, Draco Malfoy, had this to say; "I'm very thankful for mother's gift and will use it as much as I can when I am sorted into Slytherin house."
Lucius Malfoy, the patriarch of the Malfoy family, declined to comment. One may speculate this is due to the fact he does not wish to deal with potential questions about why he is taking a stance in opposition to the muggle protection act currently in debate in the wizengamot. (CONT'D ON PAGE 4)'
"Come on, Mister Potter. We're done here," McGonagall announced and Harry looked up, following her out the door taking the bag they'd been given, and walking onwards.
"Professor? What's Slytherin?" He asked, walking at her side. "I saw it in the newspaper while we were in there."
"Ah, it's one of the four houses at Hogwarts," She said, stopping to look at him with a quizzical look. "You heard me mention that I was the head of your mother and father's house, correct?"
"Yes professor, I wasn't sure what that meant though," Harry answered honestly. The elderly witch sighed.
"At Hogwarts, there are four houses. This is mainly to help define who you are paired with in lessons and where you'll stay in the school after classes. I will not tell you how the sorting works as that's traditionally kept secret, however I can tell you this. The houses value certain traits which will help pick for you. I am the head of Gryffindor house, which both your parents were in."
"And what traits do Gryffindors have, professor?" Harry wondered, curious. His guide smiled ruefully.
"Sometimes I suspect it's the traits of being loud, obnoxious and fool-hardy based on some of my students. However, the actual traits, as defined by Godric Gryffindor himself, were Courage, Determination, and Chivalry." McGonagall explained. Harry smiled, that sounded like a nice house and it made him feel good about his parents to think about them being there. "It's quite likely you will end up being a Gryffindor yourself, Mister Potter, as children do often follow their own parent's examples, though not always."
"What are the other houses I might get into then, if I don't get into Gryffindor?" Harry pondered. McGonagall seemed amused by his desire to learn. "And who is their head of houses?"
"Well, there is Hufflepuff, a very admirable house in my own opinion. Professor Pomona Sprout, the school's herbology teacher is the head of that house." The elderly witch hummed, as she pulled out a letter and showed it to him. He saw the Hogwarts crest and saw her tapping at the yellow part of the insignia that had a badger within it. "Never listen to those who try to put down the Hufflepuff house as the miscellaneous house, Mister Potter. They do have their own traits and very admirable ones at that. Hard work, dedication, patience, a strong sense of justice, and loyalty. Those whose exhibit such traits will surely fit in within Hufflepuff house."
Her finger then slid over to the blue part of the insignia which had an eagle depicted on it.
"There is also the Ravenclaw house, whose head of house is Professor Filius Flitwick. He teaches the charms class, and once upon a time was a duelling instructor as well. The traits of a true Ravenclaw are wit, wisdom, learning and intelligence."
"Oh, that's going to be Hermione's house." Harry said immediately, smiling. "She's a genius."
"So you might think, but the sorting can surprise you." McGonagall said, though she did seem to subtly nod her head at his assessment. "Finally, I must warn you not to take the propaganda against Slytherin at face value."
"Propaganda?" Harry raised a brow, confused. He saw the elderly witch frowning.
"There is a common misconception, even among several adults who should know better by now, that Slytherin house is where 'evil' students go, which is patently false." She said, and Harry nodded. The idea made no sense. How could they be evil so soon and why would you put all the evil ones together if so? In fact why would you keep them around at all? "That is not to say it doesn't have… a reputation. It did produce one of the evillest wizards known to wizardkind but there are also bad eggs who have come from every house. Ravenclaw had Raine Goldfinch and Charity Medlar, Hufflepuff had Celeste Bristlecone. Even my house had…"
She winced, sighing sadly.
"My house had Sirius Black." She shook her head and looked up. "So don't assume Slytherin is synonymous with evil, understood? Some very nice people have come out of that house, such as Andromeda Tonks."
"Yes ma'am." Harry nodded fervently in understanding. "What are their traits then, professor?"
"Cunning, ambition, leadership and resourcefulness." McGonagall frowned. "Slytherin and Gryffindor do suffer from the unfortunate detail of an intense house rivalry that spans decades, which if at all possible I'd ask you to try to not to perpetuate if you are sorted into either house. It is an unfortunate thing that only causes issues for most people."
"Yes professor. Who is their head of house then?" Harry asked curiously, as the two finally began walking down the street again. He missed the look that briefly adorned the elderly witch's face.
"Professor Severus Snape. He teaches potions, as the school's potions master." She said curtly, as though trying to move past the subject quickly. Harry couldn't help but grin however.
"Oh, I'm really looking forward to potions." He said matter-of-factly, not noticing McGonagall wince beside him at the statement. "I wonder what house I'll be in then if I don't get into Gryffindor? They all sound great to me."
"Well, only time may really tell, Mister Potter." McGonagall hummed, before stopping suddenly. "Oh no…"
"Professor?"
Before McGonagall could reply, Harry spotted what she had. A silvery blue and translucent bird swooped down from above and perched down right in front of the elderly witch and a voice Harry could still remember despite the several years it had been began to talk.
It was Dumbledore.
"Minerva, sorry to bother you but the rumours are not looking good. You have the letter on you, please get the item as soon as possible."
And the bird faded. Harry blinked twice.
"Professor? What was that?"
"Never mind that, Potter. Come on." She said, suddenly sounding urgent and taking off at a much faster pace right towards Gringotts. Her face looked a bit paler as well, now.
Try though he might to obtain answers to what was going on, he got none other than an occasional shushing. She eventually told him the very insightful answer of "It's classified" after they were in the cart, explaining that she was only taking him along because she couldn't leave him alone above and she needed to move immediately and off they went deep into the depths of Gringotts again.
A new goblin, Rokgrat, took them to a vault with no key, running his claw along it and causing it to open. As soon as it was, McGonagall rushed into what looked like a very empty vault, except for a single small grubby package that she immediately pocketed.
Harry had a million and one questions now but he had already realized there would be no answers coming at all. They got back in and after one more cart ride, McGonagall seemed to relax as they walked out into Diagon Alley again.
They came up to Ollivanders just in time to catch the Grangers coming out. Hermione grinned upon seeing her brother and rushed forward, wrapping him in a hug which he returned.
"We just got my wand! Vinewood, ten and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring." She said, doing a silly impression of Ollivanders voice that made Harry chuckle. She smirked teasingly. "So? Who's got the better wand?!"
And Harry stopped for a moment, before explaining to his family his wand's composition and… unique history.
"You have the same wand core as…. Voldemort?" His mother asked quietly, in shock and Harry nodded. She blinked and put a hand to her head as though to massage a headache.
"But I'll tell you what I told Mister Potter. It is no more than coincidence, I am certain," McGonagall said firmly, before sighing. "Though I admit, it would likely be for the best if you did not let this information become public, as no doubt someone will turn it into some kind of sensationalist story."
The Grangers nodded in understanding, before Joan pulled out the letter and looked it over one last time before blinking. "Uh… people have pet toads at Hogwarts?"
"Oh, very rarely anymore," McGonagall replied, looking faintly amused once more. "Toads have a natural immunity to magic, you see, so they made for good practice animals before such acts were prohibited on pets, so they used to be very common. Cats are much better as actual pets, if you ask me, they have a natural ability to sense magic and so can always find you, and a good familiar will always get help for you when you are in trouble. Owls are probably the most practical however, and if you are considering getting a pet I would recommend making it an owl first. In the wizarding world, owls are how we correspond, they have an innate ability to find anyone they wish to, to deliver letters once you have told them who to take it to, no matter where they are. We have owls for use at the school but an owl who is loyal to you is always faster and more reliable, and tends to have a better idea of what might be harmful to their owners. Public use owls are too inundated with use to be able to tell what is and isn't dangerous anymore."
There were a few minutes of debate but ultimately, they decided that it would be a good idea to get an owl, so they had set off with McGonagall to the owl emporium.
They thought it would take a while to find a good pet owl, but they'd been proven wrong almost immediately as soon as they'd walked into the door. As soon as they'd gotten in, a snowy white owl who had been hanging out on a chandelier above immediately swooped down onto the table in front of the group, right in front of Harry. The group exchanged looks at this and Harry hesitantly held out a hand.
The owl hopped forward slightly, and pushed her head under the proffered hand, letting Harry scratch her head she ruffled her wings slightly, almost affectionately.
"Wow, I've never seen that before with her." The owner behind the counter chuckled in surprise. "Normally she's always hiding away from the customers. Must like you, kid."
Harry and his family exchanged amused glances, and while they did look around a bit, there hadn't really been any doubt. After about ten minutes, they were leaving with the snowy white sleeping happily in a golden birdcage held in Harry's hand.
They went to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour finally, sitting down around a table while McGonagall dealt with any more questions the group had. They had all shared a laugh, even McGonagall, when Harry's first question was if she was going to have some ice cream herself. (Harry and Hermione had a very nice Neapolitan mix sundae that magically swirled around so the flavour you'd get would always be a surprise.)
They were all confused when McGonagall started talking about platform nine and three quarters at Kings Cross Station but she assured them that it existed and they'd find it just fine so long as they ran head first into the pillar with the number nine sign.
She finally smiled properly when she saw the looks she got at that, and amended her statement with an amused 'Or merely lean against it with your charms on, that will also work.'
And with all that done, it was finally time to go home. The family buzzed with excitement as they got back, managing to land half decently using the portkey again, gaining the approval of McGonagall who wished them all a happy rest of the summer before disappearing with a crack.
Without another word, the two magical children immediately set their new owl down and found a calendar, to start marking the days until Hogwarts, now more excited than ever.