I don't own the story or the characters of Harry Potter, this work is entirely fan-made. The rights to everything Harry Potter belong to J.K Rowling. I also have no beta or proof-reader (at least not a human one) so expect some mistakes from time to time. Finally, please read my profile before you review the story, as it may answer some questions that you could have, including my upload schedule.

After the wedding had gone off without a hitch, everybody was looking forward to the next big event: the 422nd Quidditch World Cup. And the Potters had some of the best seats in the house. They were quite near to the minister, as James was stationed near the Minister, along with the rest of the Aurors, and he insisted that his family be there with him. The discussions at the dinner table on the Monday following the wedding were, among other topics, which teams would win the final and who would qualify for the semi-finals. Whilst Harry and his father insisted that Wales were one of the best teams, despite never winning or making it to the quarter-finals and this year, losing badly to Uganda, Zoe was an avid supporter of the Irish team, one that had made it very far in previous World Cups. They would argue over the possibilities almost every night, though, on Wednesday, their mother had told them vehemently to zip it whilst they all ate dinner. Then, the table was far quieter, as the Potter family knew who laid down the rules: Lily.

"Hey, Dad. Are we going into Diagon Alley today, as we planned?" Harry asked excitedly before he wolfed down his porridge on Thursday morning. James yawned as he tried to answer, showering his orange juice with crumbs. Lily shot him a look of disapproval and rolled her eyes, and went back to listening to Zoe's comment about her transfiguration work for the summer. As his father swallowed and grimaced at the mixed texture of breadcrumbs and orange juice, he nodded back at Harry. They smiled, sharing the same proud look.

After breakfast was finished and his dad had fully woken up, they slipped into their travelling cloaks and cast an impervius charm on the fabric. This was to stop the soot and ash of the fireplace from dirtying them as they travelled by floo.

"Diagon Alley!" they said one after the other and whooshed away in a puff of green fire. They arrived in the floo room of The Leaky Cauldron: the room designated to the fireplace for floo travel so that various specks of ash and dirt weren't scattered across the dining area at the front of the bar. They grinned and trudged out of the room without a single piece of soot on them at all.

"Ah, good morning, Mr Potter, Heir Potter. Lovely day we're having, yes?" Tom greeted them kindly. Harry nodded and James replied with a quick "Good morning." Ever since the incident two years ago, where Harry had thrown Draco Malfoy into a stack of cauldrons, they tried to linger less and stick out no more than the average shopper. The elder man opened the back door, the one leading to the alley and ushered Harry through it with gusto. Harry then tapped the bricks in the correct combination and let the wall slide away until they could enter the street. Once they had walked over the threshold and the wall had reformed, father and son kept their heads down and walked to the wizarding bank, Gringotts.

The building easily towered over the rest of the businesses in Diagon Alley with impressive marble columns and bricks. The motto on the sign above the door read 'Fortius quo Fidelius', which was hard to understand without knowing Latin unless you applied some spell-knowledge to it. Fidelius means loyalty and to fortify means to make stronger: so 'Strength through Loyalty', Harry reasoned. Normally, his parents would be the ones getting the money out, and from their accounts too, simply giving Harry or his sister the money from them, but today was different. As they walked down the aisle, Harry took glances all around him, spotting Goblins hand files to each other, or count stacks upon stacks of golden galleons. The walk seemed to go on for a while, or maybe that was just the nerves of being inside the most heavily guarded and protected place in all of Britain. Before he went there himself, Harry would have told someone that Hogwarts was the only place to rival the security of the Goblin bank, but now, after seeing a Werewolf, a possessed teacher and a paedophile all enter the school with most teachers being unaware of their individual dangers, he wasn't confident of his original assessment.

Harry found himself at the end of the aisle, now nearly face-to-face with a goblin. It was one of the only times he had seen one outside of a textbook or Professor Binns' riveting lessons on the various Goblin rebellions. They were shorter than even himself, and he was only around 5 foot and 6 inches tall. The Goblin behind the altar-like desk peered over the wood to look at the two wizards. James looked right back at him and stared him down, whilst Harry closed his eyes and bowed his head. The Goblin snarled and grinned slightly.

"At least one of you has manners." He said with a grumble. "State your business, wizard." He looked down at Harry before adding on "Wizardling." Harry struggled to hold in a smirk, as it was offensive to bare your teeth to a Goblin, according to the ancient, ghostly Professor of History at Hogwarts, though he was bawling with laughter in his head. James rolled his eyes and withdrew a key from the pocket of his robes.

"I would like to enter my vault and to open a new account under the House of Potter." Harry's dad said with a monotone voice, not giving away his ire with the Goblin.

"We shall need a key for the vault and the name of the account holder for the new one." The goblin said tiredly. Harry's father slipped the key for their vault: Number 687 over the desk and never made eye contact with the goblin. His son noticed this and tried not to ask why, especially in the presence of goblins. He made a mental note to ask his parents about it later and find a book from the bookshelf in his room on interspecies magical relationships. Another goblin that Harry vaguely remembered from hearing the name came up to them.

"Greetings, Lord Potter. Young Heir Potter. I am the new Potter Account Manager, Griphook." James seemed inquisitive about the new goblin as if he didn't trust him at all. It seemed that Harry was right in that regard.

"Where is Hardfang, he was our account manager and has been for several decades?" Harry felt like a bystander in a brawl, though no one had drawn a wand or weapon yet. It was all he could do not to ask questions that felt like they could be intrusive to the goblins, and given that they were surrounded by them, he felt that it would be uncouth.

"I regret to inform you, that your previous account manager died just a few weeks ago. My father wished to express his… fondness of this family to you himself, but could not wait for that long. So he sent his son, and successor to deal with you."

"My condolences for your loss, Master Griphook," Harry said with a bow and clasped hands. James stared at him as the goblin cocked his head.

"Intriguing. Children…" Griphook muttered as he led the two Potters down a hallway to their right to an office with large golden doors. Despite their miniature stature, the goblins liked to show how much bigger they could make things, it seemed. And with the way that his father looked at and treated both Griphook and the goblin at the desk, Harry wasn't surprised.

The new account was under his father's name, but the account was meant for Harry and his sister. At least, that is what he said before the clearly odd behaviour that he was displaying.

"I thought that it was time you and your sister were able to pay for things without the direct need to go to your mother and me. Plus, you'll have your own bag of galleons to spend at the World Cup." Harry opened his mouth to add something to the list but James beat him to it. "And yes, you can use it right after this on that ring." He smiled at his son and signed the bottom of the contract with a black and red quill. Harry made a second mental note to find out what those special quills were because his father looked mildly strained when writing with it. His father was also rubbing his wrist when they were walking down to the vault carts. After taking the dizzying and vomit-inducing ride, they stumbled out of the cart and followed Griphook, who used the key that he was given by James earlier to unlock the complicated-looking door. Then, they were all greeted by the golden, silver and bronze glow that was the pile of money. Torches lit up the wall of the vault and flickered when James walked in to get some money for the three sacks.

Harry used this opportunity to speak to Griphook.

"Master Griphook. May I ask, why does my dad give me harsh looks when I'm even the slightest bit cordial to you and the other goblins? I know that the wizarding world has prejudices, but against the people who handle their entire life savings? It doesn't seem right." Harry was a little intimidated by Griphook, but he wanted answers more. The Goblin looked to be in thought for a short moment, then quickly answered before James could come back and see them.

"You intrigue me, Harry Potter. Most of your kind seem to take us for granted, treat us all worse than second-class citizens, but the children… they always have something new to offer. A new idea, a new perspective… I can't say why witches and wizards treat us so, especially after taking care of their financial situations, though I think that change is always possible when people like you are able to treat us like you would treat a friend. Just keep in mind that change is what makes society tick ever-so nicely." Harry barely had a moment to be confused by him before his father exited the vault with three large sacks of galleons. He dropped one heavily into Harry's hands and smiled at him.

"That's got to last you at least the rest of summer, got it?" He asked with a wry grin. "Of course, I won't tell your mother if you decide to spend most of it at the World Cup." He laughed and told Griphook to take them back, at which the goblin growled. Harry was quite moved by the conversation with Griphook and had seen enough to know that his father did not respect them.

"Dad, could you at least try to be nice to him, if only because he has almost total control over our bank accounts?" Harry pleaded with him, whilst trying not to vomit over the side of the cart. They both missed the smile that the Goblin gave Harry because of the ride. They didn't speak until they were out of the bank again.

"Alright, let's go and get that ring. And please, no more talk of the goblins for a while." James asked with a sigh. Harry nodded and led his father out of the Alley. "Uh, why are we going out of Diagon Alley? There's a perfectly good jeweller in there." He jabbed his thumb at the closing wall. His son rolled his eyes out of the view of him, almost dragging his father to a quaint little shop just a few minute's walk away from the Leaky Cauldron. After seeing the sign atop the windows, James looked inquisitively at his son.

"You could have just told me that it catered to magical and muggle patrons, you know." Harry sniggered.

"Less fun that way, besides, I knew you'd not leave the comfort of Diagon Alley, so I didn't say anything." They entered and a short tinkle of a bell rang out, letting the owners know that they would have customers. "See, when it's closed to us, it is open for the muggles, and vice versa." He explained, leading a slightly miffed James into the shop. The middle-aged woman at the counter looked up from her polishing and smiled at them.

"Ah, you're back I see. Have you come to a decision, Mr Kemble?" To James' surprise, Harry answered and brought out a small notebook. He then read out some numbers and said, 'Mithril-Silver weaved band, 3.0 carat round Sapphire at 9.4mm. Yes, I think that will be it." The lady over the counter looked mildly surprised.

"Well, most people don't normally know every size and shape, but, well done. That will be done in… about two hours, I'll put your name down on the list and you can come and pick it up straight after 1 pm. And the deposit?" Harry nodded with a smile and pointed at the sack of galleons with his wand.

"Accio 270 galleons." James' eyes flew wide open. Admittedly, he'd been expecting roughly this amount of expenditure per month from at least one of his two children, but not all at once. "Here you are, and the rest upon collection, yes?" The employee nodded and waved her own wand, making the pile of galleons soar into a back room, presumably where they kept the profits.

"This is for Hermione, Dad. You know that I would kill for her, so what is 270 in that regard?" His father sighed and nodded.

"Fair point. However, if you tell your mother about the cost, I may just have that map back." He said sternly, making his son nervous.

Disclaimer: I know nothing about Jewellery and I certainly have no knowledge of how to price/recognise gems and crystals in terms of worth. Another note on that point, in this story, the conversion rate of money is 5 GBP to one Galleon, but again, I'm not an expert on anything of the sort.

If you don't quite enjoy the political and social factors and issues that I've woven into the story, I'm sorry. They're staying as a minor plot point for my series rewrite. But if you don't feel like sticking around because of this, that's fine but I pity you for trying to find any fic these days that doesn't involve some sort of political or 'Ancient House of...' stuff. Stay Safe

-E