The Undiluted Truth, Chapter 1: A Vault and a Letter
Harry nervously followed the big man, Hagrid, up to the banking counter, trying not to stare at the long-fingered, warped creatures that were rushing back and fourth, cashing Wizarding checks and testing pearls to ensure that they were not transfigured from pebbles.
At last, they were in front of a goblin teller. Hagrid didn't mince words."I've cum to take 'Arry Potter 'ere to 'is vault, and then I need the you-know-what in vault 713. 'Ogwarts business."
A nod, then the goblin held out his? hand. Goblins were evidently neither cordial nor effusive beings. "His key?"
Hagrid fished around in his deep pockets, pulling out moldy dog biscuits, Wizarding change, scraps of paper, and so on, and pouring them out onto the counter. The goblin wrinkled his? nose, but Hagrid only rummaged around a little longer before finally coming up with a tiny golden key. The goblin took it with a grunt.
"Griphook!" he called. A smaller goblin ran over.
"Chabring sokk nirae," the teller told him. Harry had no idea what that meant, but whatever it was, Griphook seemed to understand, because he nodded and motioned them to follow.
After leaving the main lobby, they went down several progressively narrower and lower corridors, lit by torchlight, before piling into a little cart and rattling at a nauseating speed on a track that seemed to lead into the very heart of Gringotts, ducking stalactites along the way. Harry swore he saw dragons breathing fire through the iron grates that shielded some of the more strongly-protected vaults, but when he tried to lean out and look, Hagrid dragged him back in the cart by the scruff of his neck.
At last, the cart screeched to a stop that was, if anything, more sickening than the previous speed, and Harry and a sick-looking Hagrid staggered out of the cart while Griphook gave a toothy grin at their discomfort. After the two of them had somewhat caught their breath, Griphook opened the vault and Harry stared in pure shock at the piles and piles of Wizarding money. The Dursleys would have been green with envy...provided Harry would be stupid enough to let them know about his inheritance, which he was not. No doubt the Dursleys' hatred of all things magical would not extend to money. Speaking of, why was he at the Dursleys if he was rich and famous? Harry might have stood there all day, but Griphook gruffly told him to hurry up then, so Harry pushed the worrying thought to the back of his mind to ponder later.
Hesitantly Harry walked in and gathered some of the gold into his pockets while Hagrid was still catching his breath outside, still staring in awe with wide green eyes. After he'd gotten what he hoped was a large enough amount for his school supplies, he was about to leave his vault when he saw it.
It was a yellowing, blotchy envelope, which looked as if it was older than him, and when he curiously picked it up, he saw that it had his name on it written in beautiful green ink. Harry stared at it, turning it over and over in his hands. Could it be from his parents?
"'Arry! Y'all right there?"
Harry hastily stuffed the envelope in his pocket, somehow not wanting anyone else to see it. He wasn't even sure he was supposed to be taking it, but it was in his vault, and he couldn't just pass up the chance to read anything his parents might have written. Without another word, he obediently left the vault, taking both letter and gold with him. And then they were rocketing deeper still into the bowels of the underground levels, before stopping at another, obviously high security vault.
Here Griphook stroked the door with one long finger, letting the door melt away, ("Now't but a Gringotts goblin can do that," Hagrid commented) and, that said, he slipped into the vault. Harry peeked in after him, but unlike his own vault, this was entirely empty...well...except for a small package wrapped in brown paper, which Hagrid said was "'Ogwarts business" and refused to elaborate. Harry might have been more curious if he had not been obsessing over what his envelope might contain.
After the long, precarious journey back to the land of the living, Harry and his escort stumbled out, blinking, into the mid-afternoon sunlight, Harry staring around at all the beautiful shops and such. He might have stood there forever, looking at the wizards walking to and fro, when a still rather pale-looking Hagrid asked if he wouldn't mind going into Madame Malkin's Robes alone, as he needed a drink. Harry obliged.
Madame Malkin was a plump, no-nonsense witch, who thankfully did not make a fuss over him because of his scar, and he got done relatively quickly, except that one of the other boys being fitted, a white-blond with elegant everyday robes and an arrogant demeanor, nearly bowled him over with his casual comments about things Harry hadn't even heard of, much less formed opinions about.
Hagrid came back shortly with two ice cream cones (raspberry and covered with nuts, which Harry had never had before), and waited outside for Harry to finish. No one had ever done that for him before. Then they collected the rest of the supplies, dragonskin gloves and a telescope and all sorts of herbs and seeds and pickled things from the apothecary, as well as a cauldron (Harry wanted a golden one, but Hagrid wouldn't let him buy it- "It says pewter on yer list"-) And then they finally got his wand.
Harry had been looking forward to getting a magic wand from the moment he learned that he was a wizard, but his mood fell considerably when he and Hagrid actually went to buy his wand. Mr. Ollivander, the wand-maker, had protruberant silver eyes and a creepy, omniscient sense about him that made Harry shiver. He didn't particularly cheer up when Ollivander told him his wand was 'twinned' with the wand of the evil wizard who killed his parents, as well as many others. Even going to the pet shop afterward (where Hagrid bought him a beautiful white owl and Harry managed to buy a little black snake with eyes like black diamonds, because it made cute. snarky remarks in his general vicinity- not that he told him that, considering how the shopkeeper reacted when he mentioned that it talked) did not completely cheer him up.
The end of the trip was still too soon. Hagrid dropped him off at #4 Privet Drive, where Aunt Petunia dragged Harry inside ("Don't let the neighbors see!") and sent him straight to his room after letting him drink out of the tap. Harry sighed as the locks clicked, but he was not as depressed as he would ordinarily be, because he knew there was an end in sight. Soon he would be going to Hogwarts!
An hour passed. Harry tensed as he heard his uncle's heavy tread clomping up the stairs like a pigmy elephant, but after his uncle went by without halting by Harry's door to bang on it and yell for "the freak" to come make (and maybe, if he was lucky, eat) dinner, Harry relaxed. He dug in his bags to give the owl (newly christened Hedwig) and the snake (Jewel) their mice, and got out some leftovers from lunch with Hagrid.
But as he sank down on his thin bed to eat, he heard a papery-thin crunch. And remembered the letter.
Hardly daring to breathe, Harry drew out the now rumpled letter, bearing his name, and drew it out of it's envelope with trembling fingers. A loopy script, inked in dark, forest green ink covered every inch of the yellowed paper, and he could faintly smell the scent of water lily perfume. And slowly, as if savoring a chocolate that was steadily melting in the sun, he began to read.
"My dearest baby," it began...