Harry awoke in a very comfortable bed and fumbled for his glasses. His bed seemed to have grown for some reason. Did the orphanage receive a ridiculously large donation or something? After crawling further and squinting about, he located his glasses on the bedside table. Looking around he could only blink in shock. I am definitely not in the orphanage!
The bed was easily the biggest he had ever seen and the duvet and pillows were softer than anything he'd ever felt. The pair of dark wooden bedside tables perfectly framed the matching carved headboard. The carved artwork depicted some kind of large, winged lion roaring in a remarkably detailed forest. The depth of the artwork was astounding, and the carvings seemed to somehow flow from the headboard to the tables. They're moving! This is incredible! Where am I?
Harry shook his head in wonder. He admired the rest of the room, from the large window overlooking distant snow-capped mountains, to the exposed roof trusses, and the beautiful oversized door. The matching dark wood throughout the room looked magnificent against the ancient stonework. The cupboards were set into one wall, with more carved artwork depicting forests at the foot of a mountain.
Harry gasped as one of those small creatures from the bank appeared in front of him. The bank! How did I survive? How did I get here? Where on earth is here? Am I safe? Will the goblins hunt me down? He was hyperventilating as the bat-eared creature gently guided him to one of the room's leather couches.
"Is Master okay now?" the little thing politely asked. Is this the same one that appeared at the bank? "Hello. I am Harry. What is your name and why did you call me Master?"
The creature beamed at Harry for some reason. "I am Poppin, proud house elf of the House of Potter! I called you Master because you is Master! We is so sorry we didn't find you sooner, we has punished ourselves every day since you arrived with Pixie."
'Master' sounds rather cool! These guys are awesome! Wait. "Every day? How long have I been sleeping?"
"You have been recovering for over a week, Master. You is far too young to perform such advanced magic against evil goblinses. Wicked goblinses is very resistant to magic. The Daily Prophet has written all about you, Master."
A week? I felt half dead after what happened with that goblin, but to sleep for a week? I don't know if I could repeat whatever I did. Did I kill it? It was just so horrible and it made me so angry! And what is this Daily Prophet?
"Poppin, I have a few questions before we continue further. Firstly, where am I? Is this place safe or can the goblins attack me here? I assume Pixie transported me via apparition. Did this drain my energy further? And what is the Daily Prophet?"
The elf again seemed ridiculously happy for no apparent reason. "We are in Potter Castle, Master, in the main bedroom for the head of the family. Your castle has stood for over a thousand years to protect the Potter line and possessions. It is completely safe, Master. The wards are linked to magical, umm, Poppin doesn't know how this works, but the wards draw power from one of the strongest magical pools in Britain. Poppin is sorry but she doesn't know how to explain any better! Should Poppin punish herself Master?"
"No Poppin, your explanation was fine. Please continue."
"Thank you, Master! Master is too kind. Poppin knew Master was a great and noble wizard! Potter Castle is completely safe from nasty goblinses or anyone who isn't of Potter blood. Pixie moved you by elf apparition. It requires some wizard power to bring you with, but you were so drained already that Pixie almost killed you. She has been punishing herself every ten minutes for the last week. Will Master give Pixie clothes?"
The way the elf shuddered as she mentioned being given clothes told him that this was another of those elf quirks he would have to get used to. "Pixie saved my life, I order her to stop punishing herself, effective immediately. Please continue answering my questions, Poppin. You are doing a good job."
Poppin's adoration for him visibly grew at these words. Poppin eagerly continued answering her great master, "The last question about the Daily Prophet is best answered by showing you the edition that mentioned you, Master." She snapped her fingers and handed Harry a copy.
Harry was rather impressed by the moving picture on the front page, and the headline certainly drew his full attention:
Potter Heir Survives Fiendfyre Inferno and Defeats Goblins
By Rita Skeeter
In some of the biggest news since Neville Longbottom defeated You-Know-Who, it turns out that the Potter heir miraculously survived the fiendfyre inferno that incinerated his parents a decade ago. Our seasoned readers will remember that You-Know-Who and his legion of Deatheaters called forth enough fiendfyre to devour nearly five thousand muggles, along with poor Harry Potter's family.
And speaking of poor, between the ministry of magic and the notoriously greedy goblins, they have robbed the orphaned Potter of his entire inheritance. Yes, the entire Potter fortune, once rumoured to be the second largest in Britain, has been completely drained and Harry hasn't seen a knut! One has to question how this is even possible if the heir survived, and whose vaults were filled at the expense of the orphaned Potter?
This reporter investigated the whole mess and discovered some suspicious facts. The Ministry of Magic quickly declared line extinction on the Ancient and Noble House of Potter following the tragic fire. The goblins then proceeded without confirming that the line was actually extinct. When questioned on their actions, both parties vehemently blamed the other. So what does young Harry think about all of this?
Well, Mr Potter went to Gringott's yesterday to politely inquire about his expected inheritance. And that's where our story really heats up. Young Harry had just received his Hogwarts letter and was escorted to Diagon Alley by Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. They spoke to a goblin teller who maliciously provoked dear Harry. A witness said "The goblin was a real piece of work. It openly mocked the poor lad and you should have seen its face, it looked positively gleeful telling a child that his inheritance was all gone."
Understandably distraught and on the verge of tears, Harry then lost control of his magic in a most spectacular manner. "His hair stood up and all noise in the bank completely disappeared. Then suddenly, the goblin was on the ground and the next moment over 50 goblins are all throwing spears at the kid."
Professor McGonagall had this to say about the incident, "Mr Potter has clearly been wronged by both the Ministry and the goblins and they owe him a thorough investigation and fair reparations. While he is somewhat responsible for his actions at Gringotts, we must remember that he is just a child with no control of his magic. Yet the goblins tried to kill him on the spot, no questions asked! He was very lucky to escape. I hope this situation can be resolved in a fair and civilised manner."
All we know of Harry's remarkable escape is that a house elf arrived just in time to transport him to an unplottable location. Harry has not been available for an interview, but we hope this means he is also safe from goblin retribution. This reporter will investigate further and bring you all the latest drama as it comes to light.
(-)
That presents me fairly well, that probably helps me a bit. "Poppin, has there been any other news on the incident?"
"The goblinses and the Ministry have both given formal statements, Master. The Minister of Magic himself has declared that you is under his protection and that he has a team investigating the goblinses actions. The nasty goblinses said that you are never to set foot in their bank again. They blame the ministry and yours ancestors and refuse to co-operate."
Harry sighed. I hope this doesn't escalate further, the goblins overreacted, it was an accident! I hope they don't roam around outside of the bank. "Poppin, both you and Pixie will follow me wherever I go and protect me from now on. I'm worried the goblins will attack me."
"Absolutely, Master, but perhaps you would also include Bobby and Mash? They be the guard elves for the castle."
Harry smirked at this development, "Poppin, bring me Bobby and Mash, they will also serve as my body guards."
With that two stocky, armoured elves appeared and bowed before him. "We live to serve you, Master! We will protect you with our lives."
Oh this is too good to be true! "Potter elves, the goblins stole all my money. I have a castle which is awesome, but what will I eat?
"Bert tends the greenhouses and grounds, Master. You will never go hungry, we will look after you and do anything you ask! We don't have money, Master, but Robertus Potter most definitely does!"
"What? I am not the last Potter?"
"Robertus is a talking painting, Master. He is your great grandfather. Your father and grandfather called him Paranoid Potter, but they didn't really get along. Master Robertus thought they were traitors in his later years. He lived to 203 years old, Master!"
"Bring Robertus to me, I wish to speak with him." The elves seem confident that Robertus had money, and if he lived up to his nickname then perhaps it was true!
Poppin appeared with a life sized painting of a regal wizard. "Greetings, heir. I am Lord Robertus Potter, I believe you are my great grandson and the last of my prestigious line. A great responsibility rests on you now, young heir. You had better live up to your blood." He spoke with a deep, clear voice and Harry would have been slightly awed by him if he wasn't just a painting.
"Greetings, Great Grandfather. I am Harry Potter. I was only recently reintroduced to the wizarding world after surviving the fiendfyre that nearly ended our line. I have discovered that the goblins stole the entire Potter fortune while I endured an orphanage for the last 10 years. They plead innocence, and so do the Ministry. I don't know what to do, what would you recommend, sir?"
In an instant the regal façade fell away, "I knew it! I knew those bastards were after my money! How dare they take even a knut from me! You will kill them all! Do you understand me? Every single one of them. You will cut them to pieces and feed them to their disgusting spawn! This is Charlus' fault, him and that brat James. They were fools. Mocking my contingency plans and ignoring my instructions. But look who was right. Me! I knew this was coming. James and Charlus were in league with the goblins, I just know it. If they hadn't pegged off they would have stolen more of my money. But I was too smart for them, oh yes. I outsmarted them all!"
Harry stared wide eyed at the ranting portrait, "You were right, Sir! If only they had followed your advice. Now I'm the last hope for our noble line. I have to rebuild the Potter Empire and prestige, but I need to find a mentor first. I need someone to guide me and the Potter Empire back to its rightful glory."
"Look no further, heir. I shall instruct you. You will be my hands and feet as I rebuild my Empire."
"I wish that would work, Sir, but I also need funding. Though it pains me, I will have to settle for a partially trustworthy mentor of less worthy blood. It is tragic that it should be so, but there are no other options."
"Do you take me for a fool, heir?" Harry's breath caught. "I, Lord Robertus Vaughn Potter, saw this all coming. I planned for it decades ago. I emptied the Potter vaults frequently and hid the gold in this very castle. The goblins were furious, oh yes, because they knew I was on to them. I will fund you, heir. The Potter name will be great, oh yes, I will build it bigger than ever before!"
Harry let his relief show on his face, hiding the trepidation at the insane ramblings of the portrait. "Thank you, Sir. With you guiding me I will certainly become the Potter I need to be."
"You show promise, heir. Now don't disappoint me. Let's see where you stand with your wand work. Cast the most powerful spell you know."
"I am sorry, Sir, but they took absolutely all of our money. I couldn't even buy a wand and I certainly can't afford Hogwarts. These clothes on my back are my only possessions. It certainly isn't the image a Potter should portray, but I would never condone theft so I have no solution without your generous aid."
"You will not disgrace the Potter name. Come, heir, I will show you one of my secret gold stores. Elf, take me to the kitchens." The elf discreetly looked to Harry who nodded in confirmation, prompting the elf to lead the way.
The portrait continued as they traipsed through the castle, "I am unsurpassed in the art of warding, and I keyed the wards so that they would not pass over to Charlus or James. You, however, will one day be granted control as my rightful heir. My gold storage spaces are all lethally warded. The only way to access the gold is by speaking the password. This particular password is Violet62-F-G. Pronounce it exactly as I did or you will find yourself dismembered."
An elf moved the oven as Robertus instructed, revealing the stonework behind. Harry touched his finger to the corner of a particular stone which then pricked him to verify his blood. The stone glowed an ominous green and he quickly spoke the password. The green glow faded and the stone disappeared. Harry reached through the wall and grabbed a sack from inside the magically expanded wall cavity.
"That sack is charmed feather light and expanded. Each time you require gold, you must offer blood and confirm the password. Use the gold to pay for Hogwarts and outfit yourself in Diagon Alley. The castle library is extensive but potentially outdated so I expect you to improve the current inventory. The elves know the full contents of the library and can assist you."
Harry nodded and the painting continued its monologue "This is the first step in rebuilding my line. Lesson one, appearance always matters. I can't leave the castle but the elves will protect you and transport your purchases. Send them to me to advise you as necessary."
"I understand, Sir. Poppin, take some gold and pay my Hogwarts fees for the coming year, then join the rest of us. Bobby, Mash, Pixie, we are going to Diagon Alley. Stay invisible and guard me, if the need arises. Pixie, transport me to the Leaky Cauldron. I'll see you again this evening, Sir." The elves hastened to obey and soon Harry stood in a dark, dusty corner of the Leaky Cauldron wearing a look of mingled fear and excitement.
"Potter elves, discreetly count the money in this bag. How far will it go in the magical world?"
"Master, I knows exactly how much is in there, but old Master once commanded…Master, I cannot break old Master's command!"
"Elves, listen to me very carefully. Robertus is dead, I am your new Master, and you will obey me above all. I command you to ignore the commands of your old masters if they conflict with my commands. Do you understand?"
"Master wees feel it! Your commands are stronger! Old Master always stored exactly 5 000 galleons in his emergency hidey places. He has bigger stores too but wees do not know the passwords."
"How much is 5 000 galleons?"
"Master, Hogwarts is the most expensive school in Britain and I just paid 900 galleons to the Headmaster to cover your fees for the year. He asked where you gots the money but I left without saying anything. Did Poppin handle that correctly, Master?"
"Well done, Poppin. We don't know who we can trust. Elves, guard that money with your lives as well. And if you see a goblin anywhere near me, transport us away as quickly as you can. Now, let's go spend some gold."
Harry had his elves direct him to a clothing store in accordance with Lesson 1. He approached the counter inside Madam Malkins, "Good day. I require a complete wardrobe, everything a wizard would ever need, in your finest cuts and materials. I also need the Hogwarts recommended clothing. What will that cost?"
Having heard the size of the young wizards order, Madam Malkin quickly replaced her trainee at the counter. "I am Madam Malkin, your request would cost around 150 galleons. I would prioritise your order above my others, and we could do your first outfit within the next thirty minutes. The rest would be ready in 3 days. Is this agreeable?"
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Madam Malkin. I am Harry Potter, and yes that is perfect." This is amazing! I've never been able to buy things like this. Wow!
"May I recommend a black acromantula silk cloak with matching pants and a dark green formal shirt? Dragonhide formal shoes will complete the look, and I guarantee that people will take you seriously when you are dressed like that. All of these will be tailored for a perfect fit, charmed with temperature control, odour control, tear resistance, spill resistance, self-cleaning, and my specialty, expanding charms that do not ruin the tailored fit."
"That sounds perfect. I have decided to destroy my entire existing wardrobe with no exceptions, so I trust that my new wardrobe will not be at all lacking." Harry fought the blush but didn't quite win his battle. He looked around the store in an attempt at hiding his embarrassment.
"I understand Mr Potter, shall we get you fitted?"
Half an hour later, Harry left the store feeling powerful and ready to take on the world. He marveled at his exquisite new clothes and happily paid the price. Paranoid Potter was right, appearance certainly matters.
"Elves, can you discreetly move the people out of my way as I walk?" The elves did a fantastic job and Harry smiled proudly as he strode unhindered down the alley.
"My Hogwarts list says I need a trunk, where will I find that?" The elves directed him to Tristan's Trunks which was also crowded. Harry sighed and joined the queue to speak to the owner.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry was annoyed and still waiting in line. The excited chatter suddenly lessened to whispers as three new people entered the store. Harry marveled at the family, the father's aristocratic bearing with a hint of menace, the mother's class and breath-taking beauty, and a child roughly his age whose posture alone had Harry feeling a little inferior.
The father spoke for the whole store to hear, "Show me your best trunks, I do not have time for this line." Harry's mouth nearly fell open as the store owner immediately rushed to the man, ignoring all his other customers. Harry's envy and curiosity piqued and before he knew it he stood in front of the family who looked at him with an odd mixture of approval and disdain.
Harry gulped and introduced himself as best he could, "I am Harry Potter and I too am only interested in the best trunks you have here." The owner looked to the blonde family hopefully.
"Mr Potter, I was led to believe you were, poor" The man's drawl left Harry almost green with envy as all eyes in the store immediately zeroed in on him.
"The goblins only got a fraction of the vast Potter fortune. I am not without resources and I will not accept what they have done."
The blonde man smirked, "Those are rather big words coming from an 11 year old muggle. I find myself curious, how exactly will the goblins feel the wrath of the last Potter?" Harry burned with embarrassment as whispers spread around the store, only to be silenced when the man spoke once more.
"I am Lord Malfoy and this is my beautiful wife, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black. Our son Draco will attend Hogwarts this year. If you have any potential, perhaps you will find yourself sharing his dorms. Prove your worth to him, and I may consider offering my protection. It would be, tragic, if the Potter line were to end so soon after its reappearance."
Harry just stood there dumbly as Lord Malfoy then listed the requirements for Draco's trunk. The shop owner finally addressed Harry, "And you Mr Potter? Can you afford the same model as Lord Malfoy?"
"Absolutely. I will trust his judgement on this matter." The Malfoys found this amusing and clearly thought him inferior, but Harry had no idea how to change that. He left the store a few minutes later with a green and silver dragonhide trunk, blood warded and guaranteed for life. The trunk had seven compartments, one of which was large enough to serve as a lounge for around twelve people!
The next phase of Harry's shopping was rather disappointing. He felt deflated and realised just how small he actually was in this world. He purchased his potions ingredients and equipment without much interest in his tasks. He also found his stationery purchases particularly dull, and groaned when he realised he would have to start writing with a quill.
However, his mood improved a little at Flourish and Blotts. These books held the information he needed to become a great wizard. So many spells at his fingertips, centuries of collective knowledge. He purchased books to help him understand the wizarding world as well, including 'The Guide to Wizarding Nobility: Britain', 'A Wizard's Guide to Elite Society', 'The Book of Magical Races and Creatures', 'The Rise and Fall of You-Know-Who', and 'The Truth about Blood'. He was excited about these books too, particularly since some of them held information about his family.
On the way to Ollivander's, Harry was distracted by a crowd shouting excitedly about something on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Curious, Harry moved towards the display and caught a peculiar snippet of a conversation, "It's the fastest broom ever made! Ivanova broke the acceleration record on this baby, 0-100mph in just 4.1 seconds!"
Harry ran into the store and stared in awe at the multitude of brooms on display. Poster adverts showed the glory of Quidditch and Harry accidentally squeaked in excitement. He strode purposefully to the counter and confidently declared "I need that broom in the main display and I need every bit of information you have about Quidditch. I also need a catalogue of all your products."
The shop keeper didn't spare him a glance and dismissed him "And I want a castle and a Veela wife. That broom is for professionals only, and no kid could afford it anyway." Harry smiled at how wrong the man was.
"Actually, Sir, I have the gold and I would like that broom. What do you care if kill myself on a professional broom? I assure you, I will make it worth your while."
The man looked over Harry's clothes and decided it was worth a shot. He glanced around to make sure nobody would hear him, then replied "2 500 galleons and I will give you the Nimbus 2000 Pro, all of the books I have, my best broom care kit, full professional grade Quidditch armour and Montrose Magpies kit, all the balls, two sets of goal hoops, and I will give you a catalogue for anything else you may wish to buy. The Nimbus 2000 Pro comes standard with warded name engraving so the broom will never work for anyone else. It will fly home if stolen. It is unbreakable, unscratchable, and guaranteed not to lose speed for the next 10 years. Do we have a deal?"
Harry handed over the gold and was taken to the back of the shop to get his very own Nimbus 2000 Pro. He trembled with excitement as he held his new broom. He couldn't wait to try it out! He sent it to Potter Castle with an elf and raced to Ollivander's to get his wand so he could go home and fly.
Inside the dusty wand store, Harry fidgeted as he waited for a nervous-looking boy to choose a wand and move out of his way. Finally, sparks flew out of the wand tip and Ollivander clapped as he declared that the wand had chosen its master. Harry subtly tried to speed up the payment process.
"Mr Potter, I was very glad to hear that you survived. Now, I wonder if you will favour the typical core of the Potters. Let's see shall we? Dragon heartstring and hornbeam wood, just give it a wave." Harry reached for the wand and found he was no longer so hasty when it was his wand they were searching for. The wand sent a powerful jolt down his arm and Harry nearly dropped it. Ollivander simply laughed and snatched it away.
"No definitely not that one. How about this, oak with a Ridgeback's heartstring." Nothing, the wand felt like a simple stick. Ollivander seemed unperturbed. "No, not that one either. The wand chooses the wizard Mr Potter. I still think you're a dragon core, we just need the right dragon and combination. Hmm. Your father was excellent at transfiguration, and most of your power will be from him. Yes here, Ebony and the heartstring from the largest Ukranian Ironbelly I have ever seen. 14", powerful and perfect for transfiguration and battle magic. I have a feeling Mr Potter, yes, give it a wave."
Harry felt pure ecstasy the moment he touched the wand. Power pumped down his arm and warmth flared in his chest. Green and black sparks poured from the wand tip and crackled about for almost ten seconds before disappearing. Harry cradled his new wand to his chest. "How much?"
Ollivander smiled "7 galleons Mr Potter. And may I suggest a wand holster? I have an Ironbelly holster with self-adjusting straps for any part of your body, standard anti-summoning, anti-theft, life time guarantee, and automatic wand care built into the holster. The Ministry doesn't subsidise the holsters but I'll give it to you for 10 galleons. If you attach it to your arm, simply flick your wrist and will the wand into your hand. It takes some practice but it may save your life one day. Do we have a deal?"
Harry happily paid and left the store still gazing at his new wand. It felt like a part of him that had always been missing. He snapped out of his reverie near the Quiddith store. My broom! "Elves, take me to Potter Castle!" As he disappeared, a goblin snarled from a shadowed recess between two buildings nearby.
(-)
Harry learnt a lot in the weeks before Hogwarts term. First and foremost he discovered why professional brooms were not sold to amateurs. The broom was an absolute masterpiece, but only in the hands of a skilled flier. Harry possessed a natural affinity for broom flight, but he couldn't properly handle the Nimbus 2000 Pro.
He attempted the 0-100mph acceleration record and failed dismally. On his first attempt he fell off the back on the broom. He managed to hold on during the second attempt but slid too far back and had to slow down to move forward again. On the third attempt he managed a clean run, but took more than double the record time. He tried again but after a few more attempts he had only gained two tenths of a second and his body was in agony.
The next day, he avoided the acceleration tests and practiced turns. Gentle turns and stops in casual flight were easy. But as soon as the broom sensed the intent for anything sharper, it handled as if on a knife edge and threw Harry off every time. Fortunately, Harry had two elves assisting him as he tried to control the savage beast.
Harry flew every day, but the broom was too sensitive, too fast, turned too sharply, and left him wheezing and in agony after every flight. He poured over the Quidditch books looking for aid. He found some help in 'The Art of Flight'. Brooms for amateur fliers were designed with larger turning radii and a careful balance between responsiveness and safety. Top speeds were not limited, but accelerations were. However, professional brooms ignored safety concerns and ease of flight in favour of pure performance in the hands of the right flier.
Professional brooms drew on the flier's magic for control. They responded to thought more than forced movement for precision turns. The broom also drew on its flier for outright performance. The right flier could get approximately 10 percent more from the broom than the average professional. It was not well understood, but fliers channelled magic through their brooms during flight. A broom attuned itself to its rider and vice versa over time, just like wands.
There were also flying lines to consider. Momentum conservation vs. distance to cover played an important role at the highest levels.
Additionally, the flier had to be conditioned to the rigours of flight. Even amateur flight placed great strain on the body. Professional flight required both physical conditioning and wandless magical assistance as the flier channelled magic to certain muscles such as the neck for additional support.
The step from amateur to professional Quidditch was extremely difficult. Not only did the flier have to handle a professional broom at the limits of its potential, but he also had to cope with the greater complexity of professional tactics, drastically increased ball speed, and immediate punishment for even the slightest mistake. Professional Quidditch players were true athletes in every sense.
After learning all this, Harry developed a severe case of hero worship for the top fliers in the professional leagues. He burned with the desire to reach that level. It consumed his thoughts the second his brain wasn't occupied. He desperately wanted to witness an intense professional game before Hogwarts, but it was simply too late to get tickets to a top match. Instead, he bought and committed to a training program from the Quidditch catalogue and promised himself that he would one day play for a league winning team and not just watch it from the stands.
For now, Harry's young body couldn't even handle 20 consecutive minutes on his broom, so he spent the rest of his time reading, practicing magic, and learning from Paranoid Potter.
One particular book, 'The Truth about Blood' by Corvus Black II, stated that the purity of a wizard's blood predetermined their potential. Harry already felt disadvantaged for being an orphan who grew up as a muggle, with no mentor to train, shape and protect him, and no thriving legacy to inherit. And now this book said he was at a further disadvantage. The book stated that pure blood carried weight in society for a reason. Magic was an inherited trait, it said, and magical power was predominantly influenced by blood. Muggleborns were lucky revivals of the dormant magic in squib lines, but lucky only because they had magic at all rather than any significant power. Research apparently showed that muggleborns simply could not match the power reserves of those with purer blood. Paranoid Potter seemed to agree with the author on most points when Harry checked with him, although he wasn't nearly as passionate about any of it. Paranoid Potter only really cared about his own lineage and about all of his supposed enemies who were always out to get him.
Harry desperately hoped that none of that book was true. He had learned from the elves that his mother was a muggleborn. He had researched her as much as he could and found only positive references in news articles, and even some of her published works. She was often labelled the smartest witch of her generation. She had "instinctively understood the intricacies of magic" according to one article, and "applied herself with remarkable drive". Harry really hoped this meant that the book was just propaganda. He didn't understand the intricacies of this new world that he had stumbled into, but he was determined to make a place for himself near the top of it.
He was also deeply intrigued to learn about his father's family. The Potter blood was apparently ancient and particularly powerful. The Potters were famous for their strength in battle and their natural affinity for dealing with magical creatures. The majority of Potters who pursued animagus transformations were successful. Harry was very proud to be the sole heir to a history rich and prestigious bloodline. On top of all that, he was a first born son which apparently improved his magical inheritance.
Curious, Harry also read a book titled, 'Power for those who seek it'. The book detailed various rituals to significantly increase an individual's power. However, these rituals all required horrible human sacrifice, mostly that of women and children. Harry nearly threw up after reading the first ritual and refused to read any further.
(-)
Just before leaving for Hogwarts, Harry's future took a major knock. After frivolously spending almost all of his galleons, Harry had casually asked for a refill. Paranoid Potter had been livid to say the least. He had hastily back pedalled, but the damage was done. Robertus now screamed at Harry whenever he saw him and continued to rage at him even after Harry had left the room. Harry knew he would need to try find a reliable source of income of his own, but he didn't have a clue about where to start. He had already asked the elves to search the castle for any galleons that had been left in drawers or trunks or anything like that. They had found much more than he expected, but it wouldn't last long compared to the cost of attending Hogwarts. Harry now had just over 1500 galleons and he would really have to make it last.
He had initially planned to sell potions ingredients after seeing the many Potter greenhouses, but Paranoid Potter had previously warned that this was heavily restricted by trade agreements. These agreements had been voted in to favour certain well connected families around a century ago, and Harry would have to investigate recent developments before he could pursue anything further.
Paranoid Potter had also nearly had a heart attack back when Harry had asked about selling in the muggle markets. He had shouted at Harry about disgracing the Potter name and ranted for what felt like hours after that incident too. In the end, Harry decided he would have to just worry about this later and focus on his studies in the short term.
(-)
On the eve of his trip to Hogwarts, Harry lay reading in bed. He was dreadfully excited and couldn't wait to see Hogwarts after reading all about it. He had accomplished a great deal in the last three weeks and he was proud of his first steps in the magical world. He truly felt ready for the challenges and opportunities at Hogwarts.
While he was away, the elves would cultivate the magical plants in the extensive Potter greenhouses, just in case Harry could indeed sell them or use them personally when he knew more about potions and herbology.
With a big yawn, he finished the chapter of his Hogwarts transfiguration text book and gave it to Poppin to pack. He asked her to turn off the magical lights and curled into his bedding to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a great day, he couldn't wait.