Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.
Chapter 30 – Shopping Issues
Harry woke up in a small office, upon hearing a goblin calling his name and feeling a wet tissue on his forehead. Seeing that the young wizard was awakening, the small creature gave him his glasses. Harry looked around in wonder, before remembering what had happened.
"What... my vault... empty!" he stuttered.
"Of course it is."
The collected stance of the goblin brought some calm in Harry, even if that was short lived, as the first thing he wanted to do now, was hex the goblin into next week. The two things that prevented him from doing so, though, were the position of power the goblin had on him now, and also the mere fact that he didn't have a wand. He sat up, and took the goblin in. In a strange way, he looked familiar.
"Do I... Do I know you?" he asked.
The goblin looked up, surprised.
To ease the resulting silence, Harry felt that he had to elaborate. "I think I saw you the first time I went in my vault."
"Well... I'm quite surprised, as, usually, wizards prefer not to recognize us, talking to us as if we were all the same." the goblin answered. "The only change in their attitude is in regard to our responsibilities." The goblin eyes glazed over while he ranted on his job. "I noticed that several families were more agreeable now that I don't drive the carts anymore, and-"
"That's it!" Harry interrupted. "You drove the cart. It has been almost three years now... Griltook? Is it your name?"
The goblin chuckled, an unnerving sound if you didn't know he was. "Griphook, Mr Potter. Nice to meet you again."
Harry grinned. "Nice to meet you too."
"You don't look like the Harry Potter I remember from then, though. If the manager hadn't vouched for your identity, I'd be sure it's not you."
"Sorry, Griphook, but I don't want the other wizards to know about my return as of yet, and I disguised myself."
After the formal introduction, his memories came back full force, and he became restless with worry. "Griphook, what about my vault? How comes it was empty?"
"I should perhaps not tell you all this, Mr Potter, but since you managed to remember me, I will. After all, any wizard remembers a goblin has gained the right to get some information... for free."
That sent Harry's train of thought through the proverbial window "You mean, you can ask for a price for any information?"
"We could, but normally, old wizarding families know that beforehand and draw a contract accordingly, and the muggleborns' parents are informed about the banking system by their school. You didn't know about it? Mr Potter?"
The young teenager's face was distorted in anger. Harry Potter was furious. His old Headmaster had hidden information from him, once again! How many times will he stumble on personal information by accident? Trying to calm down, he swallowed his anger, storing the memory of the conversation in his mind for future reference. He then looked at the goblin. "Sorry about that. I guess my Headmaster didn't think it good to inform me."
"No wonder, here. He had been in charge of your account on your behalf. Although the vaults have been transferred to Sirius Black upon your rumoured death. Speaking of which... we are deeply sorry about that. We normally check several times for false rumours when someone dies, but, as you know, it has been almost a year, and..."
"Don't worry. But, tell me... you said... 'vaults'? Plural?"
"Of course, Mr Potter." Seeing the teen's dumbfounded expression, the goblin understood that Harry knew next to nothing to the banking system, and decided to help him a little. After all, if the folder on his desk was accurate, he would also gain something from it.
"Mr Potter, I'm going to make you a proposal."
Startled at the goblin's serious tone, but eased when he saw the gentle look sent his way, Harry nodded.
"I'd like to become your personal account manager." Griphook sensed that he had to explain each new term to Harry, and acted on it. "A personal account manager does exactly this: he manages your personal account, with all the vaults involved. The only fee is a percentage on the benefits."
"Benefits? But..."
Griphook held his fine hand, and went to read a paper, speaking in a plain voice. "Harry Potter, you own two vaults, from which the withdrawal restrictions set by Albus Dumbledore have been removed due to your... death. The first vault was opened by your parents to be a trust fund for your education. Hogwarts' fees have been taken from it, twice, but besides your own withdrawals, nothing changed. Because of your... death, everything in it had been transferred to your family vault, which holds-"
"Wait a minute, please! I have a 'family vault'? What is it?"
"Most wizarding families own a family vault, as well as some personal ones. The family vault holds the common assets of the family. In some cases, it also holds some heirlooms, books, or important items stored here for protection."
Harry, remembering the infamous vault 713 from his first year, could only nod along while the goblin continued his explanation.
"The personal vaults are seldom used, apart from trust funds like in your case, Mr Potter. I noticed, though, that there were more and more people using them over the years. As if humans were growing more and more distrustful of each other. Well, I can't judge them, though."
Harry shook his head, trying to remember all this. "You spoke about benefits? That you'd be paid with a percentage on these?"
"Yes. Our contracts indicate that a five percent margin on the benefits is taken for the account manager. That's on top of all other fees. The main fee allows us to manage the vaults themselves, and it is a fixed amount, depending on the vault size and security measures."
"I guess I don't need my trust fund vault, then? Especially if it is empty."
"You can keep it. In fact, the first personal vault opened after a family one is free. And you can use it as temporary storage, or if you don't want people to know that you actually own a large one."
Harry was thinking about his shame when he had had to withdraw money from his full vault with the Weasley behind him, two years ago. The last words of the goblin, though, jarred his train of thoughts.
"Large? How large?"
"I guess that I can't tell you in words, Mr Potter. You'll see soon enough."
"And... why didn't your manager tell me all this?"
"He thought that you knew how we worked."
"He didn't even give me a key for that one vault."
"That is because you don't need it. The Potter family, a few generations back, purchased a large vault for their affairs. It's not as old or as large as some 'pureblood' families, but it belongs to the thousand vaults for which security measures are the highest. They don't need a key, though, and they don't have a number either. To reach them by the cart, just ask the cart handler for your family vault, and the cart will direct itself accordingly." He looked down on his desk. "Speaking of security, the Potter patriarch of that time seemed to have been quite paranoid."
"You... you knew about him?"
"No, but what this document tells me" he raised a parchment full of figures, "is the list of the security measures surrounding the vault. To be able to pay that price, though, the Potter line has continuously been involved in businesses, muggle as well as wizard, and had been quite successful. That's where the 'benefits' come from. And it's also the job of a personal account manager to look over the investments to warn the account owner of possible ups and downs."
Harry was looking at him, quite astonished.
"Mr Potter?"
The young wizard shook his head, before looking at the goblin again, trying to find his words.
"How comes... I mean... When did they... No..." he shook his head again. "I didn't know of all this. In fact, I didn't know of any of this." He frowned, then. "I guess I'll have a talk with Dumbledore."
"Mr Potter, in the meantime, if you agree on everything, we can sign the contract. I'm not forcing you, though, but while you don't have a manager, businesses live their own lives."
"Yes, you're right. After all, I'm not quite ready to look after investments by myself right now."
They chuckled at this, and Griphook went to a cupboard to draw a pre-printed contract. While he began filling it, though, he went to ask Harry a question that had been nagging him.
"Mr Potter?"
"Griphook, I think you can call me Harry, now."
"I'm honoured, but I have to decline, Mr Potter. Our hierarchy would demote me if that was going to be known."
"Oh. I didn't know. Sorry, then."
"I'm really honoured, though."
They stayed silent for a few minutes still, and then Griphook held the contract for Harry's signature. During the wait, though, Harry had thought about the banking system and had remembered several things from his muggle education. Or lack thereof. And, while he signed the contract, he spoke again.
"Griphook? Is it possible to be able to make purchases without going down in the vaults each time I want to withdraw money?"
"Oh, sure, Mr Potter. There are several ways. After all, few of the purebloods ever use the carts anyway."
"I can't imagine Malfoy going down there either." answered Harry, an amused glint in his eyes at the thought.
"The most commonly used mean to remotely withdraw is a charmed purse. They come in several sized and colours. When you purchase one, it's linked to your vault, and contains a fixed amount of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts, depending on its size. When you take money out of it, it refills automatically to the said amounts. You can also upend it to remove the coins from it, but when you put it back upright, it refills again. Coins you put in it go straight to your account too, although other items you store in, like keys of jewellery, it will stay there. Only the owner can put a hand in it, anyone else will find it empty."
"Interesting. I guess I'll take one, when you'll show me the sizes and colours. Are there other means?"
Griphook fetched a small parchment explaining the purses, and continued his speech. "Mr Potter, you will have time to read this when I'll file our contract. You can tell me afterwards. About the other means... well, there is a way to transfer money through money orders. You only have to write the amount on a charmed parchment, and, when the other person signs it, the money is transferred from your vault to his. Almost all Diagon Alley shops have one, especially those which sell expensive items."
"It's nice, too. I mean, to buy large items or even houses, I doubt that people will upend their purse that much times, or even carry the gold on their back."
They chuckled again. Griphook was starting to like this wizard. Unlike many others, he was having a real talk, and that was really refreshing.
"Are these parchments expensive?" asked Harry, who knew already of the concept of checks.
"Not really. And you won't need more than one. The parchment clears when the deal is complete, and it will be ready for the next. However, there will be a fixed charge added to your account's primary fee, to reflect your possible use of these."
Harry thought about it for a moment, before deciding to forego it. After all, he wasn't going to spend his whole fortune right now, and, as a student, he only needed the charmed purse for his needs.
Griphook wasn't finished, though. "Mr Potter, from our whole talk, I assume that you have been raised as a muggle before Hogwarts, am I correct?"
"Yes, why?"
"We also have charmed means of payment for muggle shops."
Harry's interest was piqued at that. "What are they?"
"We propose the same thing as the charmed purse, and the same concept as our transfer parchment, as well as something you know as a credit card, all wrapped in a muggle looking wallet. In fact, only the wallet is magical, as to bring forth muggle money. The card and checks are very muggle, as we have a branch in muggle London, specialized for muggle monetary exchanges. If you choose to take the wallet, your account will look like it is hosted there, in the muggles' point of view."
"Is there an identification paper provided with it?"
"Well, if you were raised as a muggle, Mr Potter, they should have had you some, shouldn't they?"
"They got kind of... destroyed."
"In this case, you can ask either the muggle appropriate service to make you new ones, or the Ministry of Magic will do it too."
Harry looked crestfallen, but lightened quickly as the goblin continued to speak.
"However, we can do it too as a special service to our customers. After all, it's just a bit of paper."
Harry thought about it, and, reflecting about the fact that it was 'just' a bit of paper, reached the conclusion that, if he gets better in Transfiguration, he could try to do it himself. He had a question, though. Taking his 'Gabriel Swift' crumpled identification paper, he gave it to Griphook.
"Could you do so the owner's name displayed on the card and the checks is this one? I don't want to be noticed in the outside world."
Griphook took the paper, and, without even asking, magically straightened it. He then looked between it and Harry for a few times, before agreeing. He fetched the parchment documenting the few versions of the charmed muggle wallet, and, giving it to Harry, left the office to file the contract.
After a few minutes, during which Harry's choice went to a black leather wallet and a medium brown purse which description indicated that it was lightweight despite holding fifty gold Galleons, ten silver Sickles, and five bronze Knuts. Reading about the numbers made him go back the wallet description, and he discovered that the rate of change was fixed to be twenty percent of every money coming in or out of the wallet. In the same way as the purse, the wallet always had several coins and notes inside it, to a total nearing twenty pounds.
The magical containers also gave him ideas about what a container could do, and, after Griphook's return in the office and more paper signing to get the purse and wallet, he asked the question.
"Griphook, where would I go to buy a school trunk with... special features?"
The goblin looked at him with a wondering expression, quickly replaced by a proud one. "I will not ask about what you want to do with it, but we sometimes have partnership with Tracheus Trunks for them to build the charmed purses like the one you bought. They are situated atop Madam Malkin's, with an entry in an alcove almost hidden after the garment shop. In fact, they are quite overlooked but the majority of people, but the quality of their work is such that their clients are always recommending new ones."
"Are you recommending me, then?" asked Harry with a smile.
It had been a joke, but the goblin looked at him with a serious expression, muttering "I guess I could. With the large estate left by your parents, the account manager of your vaults will be well set."
"What do you mean?"
"You will see about your fortune when you will go in your vault. Concerning my recommendation, I said they were quite successful, but only three persons work for them, and, to get a trunk in time, you'd have to wait for a long time. If I recommend you, as we are one of their largest clients, you could skip a few seats in the waiting queue."
"Thank you, Griphook, thank you! Although I don't know what to buy exactly, yet." finished Harry, with a pondering expression. He had dragged his heavy trunk for two years, and had wondered several times, if there were ways to reduce its weight. Or bulk. Or both.
"I might have an idea to refine your choice, Mr Potter. Two, in fact. First, go visit your family vault, to see what kind of things you'd want with you. Second, here you go." And Griphook gave Harry a roll of parchment. Unfolding it, Harry noticed that it was an index of the available products.
He was surprised at the vast selection the trunk maker offered. There were regular trunks, although very well made, and there were also lightweight trunks, others that could also be reduced in size through a keyword, and even some that had their interior magically enlarged. The top of the line was one which included the three options, and which offered an inside so big that one person could actually live in it. With each trunk, there could be several options attached to it, like a security measure preventing access to anyone but the rightful owner. Raising his head, he noticed that Griphook was standing and understood that the interview was finished. He thanked the goblin profusely, and left the office. He was surprised to see Griphook follow him out of it, and asked about it.
"We are going to check your wallet and purse out, Mr Potter."
"Ah. Right. I forgot."
"It is fine. This way."
Harry entered another office and the rather young-looking goblin there looked up, startled, at their entrance. The goblins conversed for a short while in a guttural tongue, and Harry found himself owning the magical purse and wallet soon after. After thanking the goblin and Griphook again, he headed for the goblin cart line again.
After a much longer ride in the bowels of the subterranean complex, and a part where he smelled sulphur, he arrived in front of a large and ornate door with a handprint on it. He glanced at the goblin uneasily.
"Err... what do I do?"
"You mean don't know, Mr Potter?"
"Well... no, it's the first time I even see my family vault."
"You have to open the door yourself, as even the goblins can't enter high-security vaults. It must be the owner or his family."
Harry looked at the gruff goblin expectantly. When it was clear that small creature wasn't going to elaborate, he jumped off the cart and headed towards the hand print. Suspecting that he had to press his hand on it, he did just that, and the massive doors opened slowly.
The sight that graced his eyes at that moment stunned him. His amazement was on par with the awe he had felt when seeing his trust vault for the first time. In front of him were large mounds of coins, most of them having a golden tinge.
But it wasn't everything.
In front of him were also several items of furniture, some being laden with miscellaneous items. A rack held several swords, a few desks held stacks of papers, and a large bookcase was half-full with books. There even was a plate armour standing as if guarding the treasure. On wobbling legs, Harry entered the vault, and stopped right in front of a painting. In front of him, looking right at him, were the still images of his parents. They weren't moving like the ones he had seen at Hogwarts, but were painted with such detail that he could swear that they would wake up at one moment and address him.
After a few minutes of gawking, tears threatening to fall, he shook himself and went to investigate his other possessions. The first deck he saw was almost crumbling under paperwork, and the few words he read made him think that these were stock reports and other business information. As he was watching in awe, another few sheets appeared, neatly setting themselves on the appropriate stacks. Visibly, Griphook was working on his case already. He couldn't understand everything from them, and decided that he would visit the goblin again in the near future.
Switching to the weapon rack, he inspected the six swords hanging there, of which two were rapiers, two were regular swords, and the last two were very long swords, obviously needing both his hands to hands to wield. Apart from one of the swords, they were all neatly engraved with several patterns and figures.
He passed the slashing weapons and continued his tour. The body armour was ornate as well, with a coat-of-arms embossed on the breast plate. The crest was repeated on the shield which was resting afoot the armour. Near the set, he found four trunks, one of which he recognized immediately. That trunk had been in his personal vault when he had visited it the year before. Digging into it, he found the same stack of weird items. Thinking about it, he decided to come back later to have a more thorough look at it, and headed toward the bookcase.
The shelves weren't full of books, but the bookcase was quite large. He quickly parsed the book titles, some of them interesting, but, not wanting to read them right there, he left them where they were. Looking around, he noticed wardrobe beside the bookcase. Opening it, he was surprised to see several robes and other garments. Touching them, he was even more surprised to find that some were of the finest silk while a few others seemed really heavy. Two of those felt like leather whereas two others seemed to have a chain mail woven into it. It left him wondering about the purpose of these, but he didn't take time to inspect them more.
He took a last glance around and left the vault. He was sure, now. He would come back later.
Leaving Gringotts a few minutes later, he headed first toward the shop where a single and dusty wand was lying on display. Ollivander's activity was quite low at the moment, as most of the old shopkeeper's work was in the last weeks of August due to the arrival of Hogwarts students. The shop was empty, and the small chime resounded in it for a few seconds before the wheezy voice came from the back.
"I'm there. I'm right there."
Seeing Harry, with the physical aspect of Gabriel, Ollivander inquired "How may I be of service, young man?"
Harry hesitated. Would he play fairly and tell his real name? Or would he buy a wand as Gabriel Swift? In the former case, the Ministry would soon know about his 'resurrection', and he didn't quite want that. On the other hand, he wasn't really Gabriel, was he? Thinking about that, he imagined buying a wand under both identities, and the prospect of having two wands was quite appealing. Deciding to come back another day as his own self, he held his identification paper out, and asked "I'd like a wand, please."
Ollivander had first looked at him, but when Harry had been reflecting about the wands, the old man had turned around to stack his wand boxes neatly. Hearing the request, he turned again, smiling.
"Sure. You're at the right shop. No better in Great Britain! No other, in fact."
"I guess so. I just came from France, and my wand had been destroyed in a Death Eater attack there. My mother sent me to her family and they told me to go to Hogwarts. I need a new wand, then." The lie had come naturally, and Ollivander turned around, picking a few boxes and the automatic arm measurement tape. While the tape worked around Harry's shoulder and arm, the shopkeeper opened the boxes and put them on the counter. When the tape finished, he took some boxes out of his selection and added others, before gesturing toward his selection with a smile.
"There you are."
Harry started with the first, and made the usual gesture. The wand emitted a few sparks, but the old man didn't seem to be satisfied and snatched it out. The second yielded nothing. The third vibrated angrily as soon as it was touched and Harry dropped it in fright. The fourth...
...the 59th wasn't good either, and both the boy and the old man were starting to get tired. Fetching another selection from the back of his store, Ollivander muttered pensively.
"Strange, most strange. There are really few wizards who are so special that only a few wands are usable. If I may..."
"Yes?"
"What was your old wand made of?"
"Let me remember..."
"You don't know it by heart?"
"Well... sorry."
Ollivander sighed. "What do they learn in France nowadays?"
Harry didn't answer that question, as he felt it was a rhetoric one. Instead, he remembered his first wand. "It was... holly... eleven inches."
"The core?"
"A phoenix feather. Yes, that's it, a phoenix tail feather."
Ollivander looked at him pensively, and withdrew most of the selection on the countertop, some of these Harry hadn't tested yet. He then went to the front of the store, muttering about difficult wizards. He locked the door, and motioned Harry to follow him to the back.
Harry was awed to see the workshop of the wand maker, and held his hand respectfully on the containers where refined wand cores were held. His hand got slapped away and the old man looked at him with a frown.
"Never touch cores or approach them without the proper garb. They had to be isolated from magic to be usable as wand cores."
"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know. We don't have that kind of course in... in my school."
Ollivander sighed. "Yes, I know. Beauxbatons dropped the course following a shortage of teachers more than a century ago. Nor in Hogwarts, son, nor in Hogwarts."
Harry looked at the old man, curious about his melancholia. "Where could someone learn about it?"
"Why? Who would want to learn? There are old men who make perfectly working wands!"
Harry looked at his feet, ashamed at the old man's outburst. However, something the man said made him look back up.
"Sir? Sorry to ask you this, but... don't you want to retire, some day? You could travel, visit places..."
Ollivander stopped his movements, and visibly tensed. Harry instantly felt as if he had made a mistake. If the old man threw him out, he was going to have problems getting a new wand. Ollivander, however, looked at him with something like... hope? in his eyes.
"You know, lad, you are the first to actually enquire about that. I wondered when someone would ask the question, and... but I'm babbling, and you don't want to hear it."
"No, actually. I'm curious. I don't know how wands are made and I would like to know."
"There is no course to know about this, sonny. The ministries regulated wands centuries ago, and Britain's suppressed wand making courses from all schools around 150 years ago. You see, the problem is that, legally, only someone with a mark of Outstanding in wand making can establish a shop, but, as there is no course in that anymore, no one can actually set up a shop of this. I'm the last one in Britain, and I'm beginning to tire about it. I'm also too old to push the Ministry to revoke that stupid law. If you want..."
The old man looked at Harry expectantly for several seconds. The boy, unnerved, started to twitch, before asking "Yes?"
"Do you want to be my apprentice?"
Harry was flabbergasted. He had never thought about his future in the magical world, and here was the first serious hint about a viable one. Mouth agape, he reflected about this for a while, and the prospect started to please him immensely. Looking at the old man with determination in his eyes, and his mouth properly set again, he nodded.
"I'd like to, sir."
"Well! I don't know about your schedule, but you could help me during the summer." He looked through the window with a faraway look in his eyes. "There is always more work during the summer."
Several minutes passed, before Harry interrupted the old man's reverie. "Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Errm... about my wand?"
Ollivander smiled. A true smile, full of mirth. Harry felt trapped. Nervously, he asked "Sir?"
"You will do it yourself. You will make your own wand."
Diagon Alley...
After the shock of Ollivander's words and the few minutes needed to accept it, Harry went to Tracheus' to buy himself a trunk. Entering the shop through a steep flight of stairs, he was surprised to find a very proper shop. It just didn't have an outside display, he reflected, but if they were successful enough as it was, there was no need of it.
He was browsing through the shop's numerous items, when a good-looking witch came to him.
"What can I help you with, young man?"
Harry was surprised. Nobody had called him that way yet. Still, it was invigorating, and he smiled.
"I'm interested with a trunk..."
She looked around. "As the items displayed here imply, you are at the right place."
A male voice came from the back. "Nee! Stop annoying the customer."
She turned around, and, pouting, replied "He's not annoyed, dad!" Looking back at Harry, she made a show to ask, batting her eyes. "You're not annoyed, are you?"
Harry was taken aback. Either this girl was flirting with him, or she was very easy-going. Reflecting about his age, he concluded that it was the latter. His quick wit made him utter a very clever reply.
"Errr..."
She turned to her father again. "See? He's not." she said, before winking to him.
It took a few seconds for Harry to bring his mind to a proper state again. He shook himself mentally. "I saw a bit of your products-"
She smirked at this, and he fought to maintain his blush under controllable condition.
"Errr... I'm Gabriel Swift, and-"
"Harmony Tracheus. Nice to meet you, but it would be nicer if you call me Nee. All my friends do."
The open smile made him stutter again before he could align two words coherently. "Perhaps Griphook sent you an owl? He's a manager at Gringotts, and he told me you made very good trunks."
She looked confused, but her father had heard the exchange, and came around. "Ah you are the young lad dear Griphook met this morning? He told us that you would step by. Jonathan Tracheus, current owner of Tracheus' Trunks."
Harry shook the proffered hand, mumbling his false name again.
"I wonder when Griphook will step by himself. It has been quite a time since he was in the magical purse department there. Is he still implying that we have a long queue of customers waiting?"
Seeing the nonplussed look on Harry's face, he laughed. "Well... that is if you want a custom-made trunk. If you find what you want in the selection here, it's immediate delivery!" His eyes were twinkling, and Harry found these two people very sympathetic.
"So," the man continued, "what will it be? Custom-made or takeaway?"
"Err... I don't know, yet. Can I have a look at the selection first?"
"Of course. As you are our only customer at the moment, I give you Nee to give you anything you want."
Harry stuttered at the surely involuntary innuendo. Or was it? Father and daughter's eyes were glinting with amusement.
"Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome. And, Gabriel?"
"Yes?"
"Don't mind Nee's manners. I know she can be a handful. I made her to be."
Chuckling, he left the pair and returned to the back where sounds of woodworking could soon be heard. Harmony looked at him with her usual, open smile.
He shook himself, remembering the aim of his visit. She saw at his posture that he was ready and, still smiling, adopted a more professional stance herself.
"I'd like a lightweight trunk with the possibility to reduce its bulk."
"There are some here."
The next half hour was spent with her describing the several functions of the trunks. He finally decided to buy two trunks, one for himself and one for Ginny. He remembered the state of her trunk from his previous nightly visit, and she could really do with an improved one.
He settled on two mahogany trunks, both with the reduction feature, enabling their owner to carry the trunk in their pocket. Those trunks came with a gravity feature preventing the content to move around when the trunk itself was carried. For a small price, he also added a security feature where only the trunk owner would be able to open it. As he wanted to store many things from his vault, he also asked, for his trunk, if the same model was available with an enlarged interior.
During this, the shop assistant had helped him, presenting the items, and demonstrating the features. When he asked for the enlarged model, though, she stared at him with a calculating look.
"What?"
"We have that model, yes, but we don't have anymore trunks with just what you asked."
She guided him towards another mahogany trunk, looking very much like the others.
"This trunk has everything you asked, but with more options to it. It had been designed as a demonstration item, a few years back, and it isn't on par anymore with the numerous options that we could add to a trunk now. Nowadays, we can make trunks you can live in, with kitchen, bathroom, and even Floo access. We can make trunks with specific conditions like self-cleaning water tank or without gravity inside. Some other functions allow you to chat with a semi-intelligent trunk, or have it as a pet."
Harry was looking at her, awed and impressed at the possibilities. She wasn't finished yet, though, and continued her tirade. "These are features that can only be ordered, though. This one trunk, on top of being shrinkable and having its inside enlarged to one hundred cubic feet, has a built-in non-detection field, as well as a thought link. And two parts."
"Well... what does that mean? What do these do?"
"The non-detection field prevents the things inside to be detected by usual means. It is doubled with a lead layer, which functions in the same way as against Legilimency." Seeing Harry's confused look, she explained more. "Legilimency is the art of entering someone's mind, and it is blocked with lead. Didn't you know?"
"I'm sorry; we don't have that course where I come from."
"Oh. And where do you come from?"
Remembering his previous lie, and wanting to be consistent should the shop owners chat with each other, he replied "France." Also recalling the name Ollivander had given, he added. "Beauxbatons School."
"Ah? Nice country, as I have heard."
"Thank you. It really is beautiful." That was pure invention but, as people were generally proud of their own country, he had figured he could expand his story a little.
"Anyways, back to the trunk. See the lid?"
She pointed to the trunk's cover, and Harry looked at it with his eyes wide, as there were no hinges on the supposed 'back' side, only another lock.
She quickly explained. "You can open it from one side or the other, and it will open to two different spaces. That way, you can sort your stuff."
He nodded, and she went on with her explanation.
"Finally, the thought link allows the user to immediately find what he wants. When opening the trunk, you only have to concentrate on the item you want, and it will be positioned on top of everything."
"Wow!"
"Yes. I have one of those myself, and it is really useful."
"Okay then, I'll take it. Do you happen to have another one available?"
"No, sorry, it had been one of a kind already."
"No problem. I'll take it with the other one, more 'regular.'"
"Are you sure? I didn't give you the price yet."
"I'm quite sure about it. How much do they cost, anyway?"
"The regular one costs 500 galleons plus the security spell which amounts to 50 galleons. The other one... dad wrote that price tag at 2500 galleons, but I'm sure that he'll be able to reduce it." She looked at him with her usual devious glint in the eyes. "Besides, you've been nice. I'll ask-"
"No! There is no need. You've been kind to me too," he said, blushing, "and I want to pay the proper price."
Seeing that she was going to retort, he interrupted her. "If you don't want it for the trunk, take it for yourself." Catching her surprised expression, he smiled. "As a present, if you wish."
Her eyes went wide, before she launched herself at his neck. "Thank you!"
He tried to disengage himself, but froze when he noticed that her dad was eyeing them critically. Stuttering, he tried to explain. "I'm sorry, sir, but-"
"No need, lad. I know her. I gather that you either bought the whole shop or invited her out?"
Harry blushed again. This time his whole face had a nice tint of red. He coughed several time, still trying to push the girl gently. "I... neither, sir. I'm sorry."
"Sorry? What for?"
"I didn't buy the whole shop, only these two trunks," he said, indicating the two trunks under the widening eyes of the owner, "and I didn't invite her out, even if she's as charming as one can be short of being an angel."
She cooed, and, still attached to his neck, pressed herself closer to him. His body was starting to react, and he had to stop that soon or he would be thoroughly embarrassed. Gathering all his willpower to ignore her, he spoke again.
"But... I'm already with one."
They both looked at him in confusion. Profiting from it, he extracted himself from the arms of the girl, and explained. Kind of.
"See, I bought two trunks."
"And?"
"Two."
The man seemed to understand, and a somewhat sad look came upon his eyes. His daughter, however, hadn't grasped it, so Harry had to explain some more. He didn't want to hurt her burgeoning feelings, though, and decided to go easy.
"You are beautiful, easy-going, and I guess that, if I wasn't seeing someone already, I'd have invited you out."
"You... you are seeing somebody?"
"Well... yes."
She sighed, mumbling something. Her dad bent towards her. "What did you say, Nee?"
"I don't have any luck! For once, I meet someone fun, he's already taken." She wasn't whining nor crying, but it clearly appeared that she was sad about it.
"We can stay friends, though." Harry, not really used to interaction with people, tried to ease it.
Her gaze shifted toward him, seeping to appraise something. "Really?"
"Yes. What do you think of that?"
She sighed again. "Okay." She sniffed. "Thank you, for being honest..." she smirked, "and fun to tease."
He blushed. Again. "Oh. Thank you, too."
The man chuckled. "Well. It's settled, then." He looked at Harry pointedly. "Were you serious for the trunks?"
"Yes, sir. And," he added, seeing that the man was having the same afterthoughts as his daughter, "I don't want a price reduction. Consider it my contribution to your wonderful shop and your wonderful daughter."
She lunged at him again, and hugged him. "Thank you."
"Well," Jonathan said, "if everything is said and done, I guess that it's time to check the trunks out, Nee."
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"He wants the security feature."
"Oh, okay. I guess that I have some work to do, then. Which one?"
Harry looked at him in confusion. Thinking that he asked about which trunk, he answered "The two of them."
The man looked at him, before laughing heartily. To Harry's nonplussed gaze, he explained that there were several security measure, the lowest being a palm of voice recognition, and there were also features that prevented the trunk to be moved at all.
Harry thought that the palm recognition was enough, and he told him so.
"Do you want your name on it, too?"
"Well, if it's shrinkable, I guess that it's not necessary since I will always have it in my pocket."
Jonathan looked at him with the same calculating look that his daughter had given him earlier. "You know, since you insisted on paying the price, I can give you something else in return. No," he raised his hand, seeing that Harry was going to refuse, "it's a gift. It will be a bag. You will choose the model with Nee, and the bag will be linked to your trunk and the thought link will be usable through it."
"Err... thank you, but I don't understand what it does exactly."
"It means that, wherever your trunk it, you can concentrate on the item you want and it will appear in the bag. Everything that you will put in it will be sent to your trunk. And... you'll be the only one to be able to do that, of course. To anyone else, the bag will be empty since they won't be keyed to the trunk."
"Oh, okay. I mean... thank you, sir. Really! That will be very interesting."
"Go now, shoo! Go select your bag while I secure your trunks and I check you out. I guess that you want the special one for yourself?" At Harry's nod, he explained more. "I'll put your friend's trunk inside it, then. Remember that the first person to touch it afterwards will be the designated owner."
"Thank you, sir. Thank you for everything."
Harry chose a black school bag, and went to pay for everything. Since his purse only held 50 galleons, he thought that he had to upend it quite a few times, and regretted not taking the charmed parchment option. However, being the owner of a shop selling somewhat expensive items, Jonathan had got that option himself. After signing the magicked parchment, officially relieving his account of the rounded sum of 3000 Galleons, he thanked them liberally and left the shop with two shrunk trunks, one inside the other, and a kiss on each cheek from Nee.
His face was still red when he entered the next shop fifteen minutes later.
When Harry entered Quality Quidditch Supplies, his blush receded under comfortable condition, and he browsed for the many brooms and Quidditch-related equipment. Nobody was there, and he could gawk all he wanted on the broom that was displayed in the shop's main showcase.
The Firebolt was a new broom, which had been created the previous summer by some unknown business. The label displayed impressive properties, putting it on the top of the line. Seeing this, Harry almost drooled, remembering the exhilaration he had felt when flying. However, even looking around the case, he didn't find a price. On top of that, contrarily to the other broom displayed in the shop, there was only one of its kind in the cabinet. Inquiring about that to the middle-aged shopkeeper, he learnt about the story of that broom, and was stunned, as well as a little sad.
The company that had created the broom, founded by two friends, had made several prototypes of it, but they couldn't find a way to produce it en masse. The market crumbled, and their financial backers came to reclaim their money. One of the two owners, drowned with problems, had committed suicide at the beginning of the year, and the other was now unemployed, and was supposed to live in muggle London. There had been very few copies of the broom and, being all prototypes, several of them had malfunctions which earned their users wounds or even death in two cases. Now, it was rumoured to be haunted and, despite having many teenagers gawking at its performance, nobody bought it.
Having finished his story, the man left Harry to sell broom polish and keeper gloves to a portly woman, and Harry tuned them out, still looking at the Firebolt.
Speed, exhilaration, flight...
Danger, wounds, death...
The two lines of thoughts were battling in his head. Logic pushed him to reject the broom and find another, but he really wanted to zoom in the air like before. He reflected that he had already tasted death, and that he always had his ring to bring him back to his healing bed. Slowly, the first line of thought took the lead, and he turned around to catch the nearby shopkeeper's attention.
"Sir? How much is it?"
"Well, I'm not sure that you could afford it by yourself, young man."
Harry smiled. "In fact, I think I might." Decided to shock the man, he asked "It isn't worth more than a million Galleons, right?" He didn't know how much he owned exactly, but he was convinced that the large mounds of gold in his vault would be enough to allow the purchase.
The man was quite shocked, and shook himself after several seconds. "Of course not. It has been set at 20000 Galleons. The price of a small house."
Harry was ready to pay that price, but a glint in the man's eye stopped him in the middle of a nod. He reflected about his previous purchase, and decided that, even if he owned much, he could try to negotiate a little. At least, it would give him experience for future deals.
He looked the man in the eye and gathered the most business-like voice he could muster. "I take it immediately if you lower the price to 12000." It was a big difference but, looking at the man, he felt that it could pass. He added "No wrapping, no reporting about where I bought it, no hassle, and you can reclaim this showcase for normal business." He was feeling very Slytherin, and was briefly reminded of his chat with the infamous hat during his Sorting.
The man was looking at him with a calculating stance, and Harry tried to look as impressive and debonair as he could. A difficult mix, but they were soon interrupted by a family entering the shop, with kids wanting to touch everything. The man was clearly annoyed at this, but smiled to Harry and extended his hand. "Agreed. Deal?"
Harry quickly reflected that he didn't need another broom, as he knew Ginny had one already. Arthur Weasley's new position and salary had helped furnishing the large family with the needed equipment, and each of the kids now owned a brand new Nimbus 2000. "Deal." They shook hands, and went around the counter, Harry once again signing on a magicked parchment to transfer the quite large sum from his vault to another. The man then opened the glass cabined and let him grasp the fabled broom.
As soon as Harry touched it, the broom hummed and jumped out of its display cushion. The man then removed the information tag, closed the glass cabinet, and went to help the family. Harry could feel that his new broom was 'feeling' restless, and silently promised his new purchase to fly around soon.
He didn't want to enlarge his trunk in this environment, but also didn't want to be seen exiting the shop with that broom. He sighed internally. In fact, refusing the paper wrapping wasn't such a good idea. However, he still had his charmed schoolbag. Perhaps he could put the broom in his trunk through it?
He opened his schoolbag on the floor and pushed the broom into it little by little. He didn't want to have an accident right now. To his surprise, the broom entered completely in his bag! Reflecting about Tracheus Trunks owners, he remembered that they had shared several knowing looks, and suspected that the schoolbag was more than just a link to his trunk.
Harry zipped his bag up and opened it right afterwards. No broom. He closed his bag again, concentrated on his broom, and opened it again. The broom was there, and he smiled. The next school year was promising to be interesting. He headed toward the shop's exit, looking around, when a yell behind him attracted his attention.
"Mum! Muuuum! Look at the sords!" One of the kids was calling the mother from a hidden corner of the shop, and she quickly fetched the wayward child.
"I said it already, Kev. Don't touch the swords."
"But I don't touched them, mum!"
"It's "didn't", and you're way too young to browse in that section."
The pair continued their way, but Harry stood where he was. So, there was a section with swords? Interested, he slowly walked toward said section, and his eyes opened wide. Each time he had been here in the past, he had never thought that the shop had a section totally unrelated to Quidditch. He had arrived in a triangle-shaped room, with swords held in racks on the right, and strange objects on the left. Books also littered the walls between other items. Starting on the right, he found fencing sword, ornate ones obviously meant for decoration, oriental sabres... without having a too extensive selection, the wall was covered with swords up to the ceiling. An overly large sword, visibly meant for a giant to use with both hands, was hanging there.
"Interested?"
The voice made Harry jump. The owner had finished selling the family a set of underage brooms, and had silently arrived behind him. Taking Harry's silence for an assent, he told stories of some of the blades, going up and finishing with the 10-foot long blade hanging above them.
"...and this one belonged to a giant named Damocles. Legend has it that he was killed by his own blade, but no one knows how."
Harry, during the speech, had tuned the man out, and was browsing the books resting in the few shelves on the swords' wall. Interested, he had grasped one on exotic blade handling, and another on fighting with several swords. The man's eyebrows had risen at the choice, but he had continued his monologue.
Harry turned toward the man. "I never knew you had a room here."
"It's quite normal. The owner before me didn't want to specialize in that wonderful sport that Quidditch is, and I had to redecorate the whole shop after he reluctantly sold it to me. However, a few people, sticking to old traditions, still come here once or twice a year, to get material in relation with swords or fencing, so I left a wall with these." He approached Harry and whispered conspiratorially in his ear despite the shop being desert. "I haven't finished selling the previous owner's stock."
Harry looked at the man in wonder, before glancing at the room again. "And the other wall?" he asked.
"This... these books and items are related to muggle sports. Some muggleborns, as well as some eccentric wizards, want to have everything in the same shop and they asked several times to have a selection of material in relation to those sports. Foolsball, headball, you name it."
Harry, even without a proper sport education, now knew a fair bit of muggle culture, and he almost burst in laughter at the man's distorted names. Not needing anything there, though, he browsed diagonally through the proffered stuff, and his gazed stopped on a rotating book display. There, stored right next muggle books on athletics, were books about wizarding sports.
"These..." started the shop keeper in an annoyed tone, "these are books on the "sports" which were practised in the magical world before the appearance of Quidditch. Some of them still exist today, but their audience had been lowered to the minimum." The man's smile was the last of many indications that he preferred Quidditch to everything else. His body language clearly stated that, if he had had the choice, he would have closed that section a long time ago.
Curious about the name, Harry took a booklet promoting "The Political Use of Henge Games" by Lars Zeltik, as well as another one, titled "Magical Sports in Which You Need Balls", written by Ima D. Centplayer. He started to browse them but, feeling the man's annoyed glance on him, decided to check them out anyway. After all, he wasn't poor by a long shot. After paying them, he stowed his four new books in his schoolbag, thanked the owner, and left the shop.
Heading toward the bank again, his sight was caught by the sun reflecting on a display. As it wasn't from a shop he knew, he headed that way, and found himself in front of Gudrun's Goggles, an equipment shop for the visually impaired. He looked right and left and quickly saw why he hadn't seen the shop before: like the trunks shop, this one's entry was in a recess from another shop. He stood there, reflecting about the shop, about himself, and about his eyes.
On impulse, he entered the shop, and began to browse the miscellaneous items offered. The shopkeeper, a very old lady, looked at him and smiled benignly, before turning back to her knitting work. Visibly, there weren't many customers, and, visibly, that didn't upset her. Harry read several leaflets about glasses and magical eyes before deciding. He didn't want to appear changed, and wanted his enemies to think that he could be impaired by losing his glasses even if it wasn't true. Reflecting about that, he still didn't know how one of his eyes had been healed, but could only be thankful that at least one was functioning.
He also reflected about magical eyes. Most of these were plain lenses, but some were so heavily charmed that it was a mystery they didn't melt. Looking at the list of charms, he found several interesting ones. He wanted to be able to see properly when in his normal form, and was curious about how a magical eye would react to his numerous transformations. He approached the old lady.
"Good afternoon, Madam."
"Good afternoon, young sir."
She left her needles and approached him. To his surprise, the needles continued to knit without assistance. Seeing his expression, he woman chuckled. "These are charmed needles. They are quite temperamental, though, and I have to direct them manually at least half of the time. You wanted something for your eyes?"
"Yes. First, I'd like a pair of glasses."
"Alright. Which one?" she asked, her arms encompassing her selection.
Harry hadn't thought about it, and he could only look at the wide choice of models. He decided that he would have the same glasses as before, round with a thick black trim. Trying several pairs, he also took another model, with rectangular lenses and an almost invisible trim. He smiled. These would be his regular glasses, and the round would be the back-up pair.
The old lady, seeing that he had finished trying glasses, abandoned her needles again, and went to him. "Good. You look smashing with these. The round ones are a bit old-fashioned, but they can be used as a back-up pair, even if we can charm them so that they won't break or fall off your head."
He looked up sharply. "You can?" he asked, before biting his tongue. Of course they could. His own glasses had been muggle-made, and weren't even perfectly adapted to his eyesight, as the Dursleys had preferred buying second-hand glasses with the accompanying lenses.
The woman huffed, her professional pride hurt. "Of course we can! We are the best shop in visual help in the whole country. Even the undercover Aurors come here to get glasses to see through walls, and-" she stopped there, her hand on her mouth, conscious that she had told too much.
Harry looked up sharply. "See through walls? Now that's interesting." He thought about himself, and was curious, wondering if they were charms able to discern his real appearance. "Are there charms able to pierce through illusions and transfigured material?"
The woman looked around meekly. She had either told him too much, or not enough. Sighing, she answered. "There are charms to see through illusions. But nothing can help seeing through transfiguration, as it is a reworking of the matter itself."
Harry sighed internally. At least no one would see through his numerous forms. Knowing that he wanted a magical eye also, he decided to show his real face. He warned the woman beforehand, and brought back his scarred side. She gasped and tumbled back to her chair.
"Madam? Are you alright?"
She looked at him in wonder, before nodding. "I... I never thought I would see a metamorphmagus in my shop. Is... is this your real face?"
He frowned. "Yes. As you can see, I need a replacement eye."
"You seemed to have two eyes when you entered."
"Yes, but only one was functioning, unlike when..." he stuttered, conscious that he was on the verge of telling too much. "Unlike... err... what it shows." he finished lamely.
She looked at him pointedly, and he felt that he had to steer the conversation away. "Now you know that I can modify my appearance, can you tell me if there are magical eyes able to blend in a changed face?"
The woman lost her suspicious look and seemed to think about it. "I think most of them will do. We can add charms so that it won't fall, though."
"Excellent! Can I have the see-through-illusions charm on the eye? And..." he looked at the parchment with the list of regular charms for magical eyes, "eagle sight, as well as night vision?"
She looked at him sharply. "I might get problems if the illusion part was to be known. Normally, it's reserved for the law enforcement personnel. I guess that you'll pester me until you have it?"
He nodded vigorously, and she sighed. "Can you swear, on your eyesight, that you won't tell about it to anyone?"
He shrugged, and swore. After the magic of the oath dissipated, she was still looking at him, unmoving.
"What?" he asked.
"Why do you need glasses? Your eyesight seems alright, and the magical eye will be perfect already."
"Well... I want some people to think that I still need them."
She smiled. "Nice. Then, they are going to be quite cheap, unlike your magical eye. Speaking of which, do you want it to look like your other eye, or something else? We can do on-demand designs, like snake eyes, but it needs more time."
"No, thanks. Like my other eye will do. Can you add unbreakable charms to the glasses? And... does the eye already have one?" he added quickly.
She looked at him. "Yes it does. You will need to come back in a few days, as the other charms need to stabilize. The glasses you can take away now."
"Okay."
"Just a warning: after putting the eye on, you'll be quite dizzy. You also won't be able to use any of the additional functions while the other eye is open. Otherwise, your brain may be overloaded from information and you would faint."
He smiled. Fainting was something he was beginning to know. He paid the 1500 Galleons with the charmed parchment again, in exchange of the glasses and a receipt for the magicked eye.
Once out of the shop, he glanced at his watch and decided that he had just the time to fetch a few items from his vault before heading back to Joan and Michael's place.
One after the other, he put the books which titles he could understand in his bag. He also took the pair of regular swords with their scabbards, as well as the shield, reflecting that he could train his off-hand strength by holding it while training the sword. He wasn't a proper swordsman, but he had found out that the little fencing he had done at school had been helpful for his physical development.
He then looked at each of the robes and couldn't imagine what they were used for. Guessing that they could be useful at one point, and wanting to have explanations, he took six of them with him: the two woven with chain mail, the two leathery, and two silken ones. The first of these was of a deep green fading into black on the sleeves and shoulders, and had abstract silvery linings. He thought he could use it when appearing as Harry Potter, as it was the same colour as his eye. The second robe was more in the dark red tinge, and he had taken it out because its red base with golden linings had made him think of Gryffindor's colours. However, upon close inspection, it wasn't quite the same colour.
It was more...
It was more like Ginny's hair colour.
He blushed, and put the robe in his bag before leaving the vault, the bank, and Diagon Alley.
To be continued in next chapter: Schedule and Mischief...
Now that the girls are settled,
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