AN: The new chapter, as not-promised. Maybe click that link on the top of my author page as a reward?
I still don't own them.
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Alduin had not asked Dumbledore for Harry's Gringotts key. After all, every decent relative took care of their family's children out of their own pocket, didn't they? It wasn't like he couldn't afford it. He had been saving money for the last nine years, after all.
Laughing internally at his own poor joke, Alduin let Harry soak in the atmosphere for a while, then nudged him gently and took him down the street to Edgecombe's. The reception witch smiled her polished smile when she saw them, and then, actually noticing who he was, promptly approached them with a smile significantly widened. "Mr. Travers!" She said. "We have been expecting you. Mr. Edgecombe is waiting for you in the back."
"Thank you," he said smoothly, and directly Harry to the unobtrusive door which led to the privacy of rooms for old customers.
"Mr. Travers!" The shop owner said, his enthusiasm more muted and subtle. "Welcome. And this, I presume, is your delightful charge."
"Yes," Alduin inclined his head. "This is Harry Potter."
"Welcome, Mr. Potter, to the finest establishment of wizarding fashion. Now, if you allow me, I would like to take your measurements..."
When that was done, different fabrics were presented to Harry, who chose the ones he liked the most, and indicated what were his preferred colours. "I assume you would like to take at least one set of robes with you immediately?" Mr. Edgecombe said, turning to Alduin.
"Yes, if you would be so kind," he replied, looking up from the magazines he was perusing.
"Very well then, if you could please wait here."
The shopkeeper disappeared, and Harry immediately dug into the magazines, clearly bursting with curiosity. "The pictures move!" He muttered then, astonished.
"Yes, Harry, all pictures in the wizarding world move, and most portraits can communicate, too, though usually only in a very basic way."
"Really? How come I haven't noticed at your house?" Harry was frowning, apparently trying to remember if he could have missed something so strange.
"I do not have many portraits downstairs. Most of them are in the picture gallery. I prefer it that way. And those that are in the parlours and in the dining room spend most of their time sleeping, so it is easy to miss." They were the most interesting – from his point of view – members of his house, and they usually only woke up for stimulating intellectual discussions.
Harry seemed determined to explore this new wonder in detail once they came back, but for now, he returned to the magazines. The shop owner appeared again some time later with a first draft of the robes, which he tried on Harry and then took back into the depth of the shop. When he came again, it was with the finished product, some thirty minutes later, for Harry to change into.
"Thank you, Mr. Edgecombe," Alduin said, raising.
"You are quite welcome, sir. The rest shall be delivered to your address, I expect?"
"Precisely."
"Very good, sir, have a nice day."
Once they were outside, Harry asked: "Are we going to pay only after he delivers the dress?"
"The robes, Harry," Alduin replied, striding down the street, "and no, it is simply going to be billed directly to my account."
Harry seemed shocked. "But, I mean...how do you know he won't ask for more than you've agreed on?"
Alduin frowned. "Never let him hear you say such a thing, Harry, or indeed, any decent shopkeeper. Doing such a thing once – especially to a member of a Noble and Most Ancient House – would ruin him forever. He cannot afford such a thing."
"And what if someone accused him of doing just that?" Harry insisted.
"Well, the thing is, in shops like this one, you don't agree on a price. You simply order what you want, and later check your account, and if you think the price outrageous, you never shop there again."
"But, I mean, what if someone opened a new shop and asked for outrageous prices and everyone shopped there just once? They wouldn't go again, but the shopkeeper would still get a lot of money off the people he tricked..." The honor system was clearly incomprehensible to Harry.
"If the sum was really absurd, the goblins would contact me before billing it," Alduin explained patiently. "They have a good estimate of what is realistic, so if the bill said one set of robes cost over a thousand galleons, let's say, they would ask if I had really ordered something extraordinary. Especially if it came from a new robesmaker no one has ever heard about. Then, also, most wizards go by recommendation when choosing shops. A new robesmaker is in an extremely difficult position, and he would hardly get more than one or two customers without any kind of recommendation. So really, it wouldn't have been such a good plan to become rich."
"Galleons are wizarding money?" The boy asked.
"Oh, yes, I apologize," Alduin backtracked a little. "We have gold galleons, silver sickles and bronze knuts. There are seventeen sickles in a galleon and twenty-nine knuts in a sickle. One galleon if about five pounds sterling."
Harry stopped. "Wait, and the goblins would only contact you if the robes cost over one thousand galleons?"
"Keep your voice down, Harry. Yes. You might have figured out from where I live that I am rather well off." Alduin's face was pinched in distaste. To discuss such a thing in the street! Harry had a lot to learn.
"But what about the people who aren't?"
"The people who aren't," said Alduin plainly, "do not shop at such places."
"But what if they don't know? What if I came here without you for the first time, and just tried to buy something?" Harry sounded a little panicked.
Alduin smiled a little, attempting to calm him: "Then it would have been no trouble at all, since you certainly can afford it."
Harry stopped again.
"Come on," Alduin nudged him. "Perhaps I will show you one day. I do not know your state of affairs exactly, but the Potter wealth is certainly not negligible. But if someone who actually doesn't have the money walked in, the simple answer is that they would not have allowed him to order anything. Shops like this are extremely picky about their customers. If they didn't know you, or your family, they would likely tell you they were too busy to receive you."
Harry frowned. Alduin expected this would need some more explaining, but he would lave it for home. Now, it was time to get Harry new shoes, and glasses. Certainly glasses.
Once his charge looked like a proper wizard, and they took their elevenses at the Fudge café, they headed to Flourish and Blotts. It wasn't exactly Alduin's bookshop of choice, but it served the most mainstream clientele, increasing the chance that Harry would be able to find something that interested him.
Alduin considered for a moment, and then directed the boy to the history section and pointed out some simple, introductory books. Harry seemed interested enough, and so the same was repeated in magical theory section. Additionally, Alduin judged that Tales of Beedle the Bard would come in useful, though he picked an annotated adult version – no need to expose his cousin to the ghastly illustration that plagued all of the children's ones. Then, Alduin relented and led Harry to fiction.
He sighted when he noticed that the boy's attention was immediately caught by that terrible Martin Miggs comics. He supposed it was inevitable, really. "I will let you browse," he told his charge, not wanting to have to cringe every time he saw him looking at something he judged to be complete junk. He was theoretically aware that he could hardly expect a boy who had never been led to read to suddenly start picking up Shakespeare on his own, but still.
He wandered back to the magical theory section, searching for something interesting he hadn't read yet. Not that he had much hope – Flourish and Blotts hardly ever sold something interesting in the first place. Shaking his head, he went to the counter: "I am sorry, but do you happen to know what is the Hogwarts-used introduction to magical theory these days?" He asked the assistant.
"I cannot tell you for certain what is it going to be next year, sir, but unless they change course material, it should be the book by Wafling," the man explained helpfully.
"Thank you."
He went to hunt for the book in question, judging it couldn't hurt to give Harry a head start, and then leisurely walked thorough the pleasantly empty shop back to fiction. "Did you like anything?" He asked his cousin.
"Well..." Harry was clearly shy to ask for things to be bought for him, but after some encouragement, indicated the comics and three thin novels. Alduin supposed that would do to begin with, and they went to pay for their purchase and headed home for lunch.
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They arrived to a house decorated for Christmas, as it hadn't been before they left. Harry was thrilled, but also a little nervous. Aunt Petunia had always been rather strict about her decoration, and he always had to stay far away.
"Harry," his cousin said, "lunch is at two. And you might want to try dressing like a proper wizard while at home at least, so that you get used to it. I think it would be more comfortable for you at first than going without trousers in the street, am I right?"
Harry nodded vigorously. It was going to be very strange even inside the house, to be honest, he was sure of it. He run up the stairs, enjoying the clear view he had in the new glasses. It was so much better! He really hoped that even if his cousin decided to send him back to the Dursleys in time, he would allow him to keep the glasses. After all, what good would they be to him? But then he realized Dudley would no doubt break them immediately, and sighed.
Anyway, he thought, I hope I can stay at least till Christmas. Spending Christmas somewhere away from Privet Drive would be great.
He took off his trousers, feeling exactly as strange as he had expected he would, and took his new comics out of the bag. It was really cool. It was more like a Muggle animated film, because the characters moved and everything, only they speech was written in bubbles just like in Muggle comics. He followed Martin through the panels with different backgrounds, thinking that if Dudley could see him now, he would be insanely jealous.
He kept his eye on the clock on his bedside table, and when it was time, he skipped down for lunch.
Once they were seated at the table, Alduin told him: "I will be going out in the afternoon, so I suggest you spend the time by reading your new books. The library here is open to you too, of course. You can ask the elves to point the way. I won't probably be back for tea, but it will be laid out for you in the same drawing room as yesterday, at five. I expect you at dinner at eight, too. Tomorrow, we will look at your Muggle school books and devise some kind of plan for your education."
Harry nodded. "What about the school?" He asked then. "I mean, won't they wonder where have I gone to?"
"Don't worry about it, I am taking care of it. It is one of the reasons I am going out after lunch. I will register you as a wizarding minor – something that normally happens to the Muggle-raised once they start attending Hogwarts – which means you will disappear from Muggle records. Your school teacher will probably be told you transferred to a different school or something of the sort. These things are handled by the Ministry, so I don't quite now what is done exactly. I gather there aren't any good friends there that should be specially informed?"
Harry shook his head. "Like I said, no one talked to me much, because they were afraid of Dudley and then I looked so strange, I mean, with Dudley's old clothes and all."
"Well, then at least there is one upside to all that, you don't have to be sorry."
Harry most certainly wasn't.
After lunch, he followed his cousin's recommendation and opened the history book he had been given. It was really interesting – all those old cultures he knew from Muggle telly, and they had witches and wizards! Most of the history, it seemed to him, was similar to what the Muggles knew, only there were magicians and fantastic creatures in it. Harry read and read, and when he looked up again, it was suddenly half past four. He wasn't really feeling hungry yet, but closed the book – afraid of loosing himself again – and opened the comics instead. The half an hour was just enough to finish a short story.
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The next morning, Alduin was looking at Harry's books and thinking that if all the actual information gathered in those things was put together, it would be enough for perhaps one thin volume. There were way too many pictures in Harry's books, it seemed to him, and they were way too big.
He sighted. Apparently, he would have to deal with English, Math, Science, History, Geography and French. There was also physical education, art and computing, but he was hardly doing to devote time to that. "I'm afraid you will have to say good bye to computers," he told Harry. "They don't work in areas with too much magic around, and this house is full of magical artifacts and a clan of house-elves lives here, not to mention all of the spells I cast constantly. I don't think it's such a bad trade off."
Harry's grin was all the answer he needed.
"As for art, I encourage you to do that in your own time – I will gladly look your drawings over and provide all the supplies you need. But I can only give my mornings to your education, and so I will focus on what I consider the crucial subjects." He paused and then said: "Bien, d'abord je dois découvrir comment est ton francaise."
It turned out it wasn't very good, and that Harry had trouble fluently answering even simple questions, and his accent was something dreadful. So it was immediately decided that French would be one of the lessons he would have every day. "I think I will throw in some Latin, too," Alduin added, "it's very useful for wizards, and provides a good basis for studying other languages."
In fact, that seemed like an excellent place to start, since Alduin actually had some idea what to do there, and so he spent exhausting forty minutes by trying to make Harry converse in a foreign language – or at least read from a book in a passable way.
After the much needed break – certainly on Alduin's part – he had Harry doing some mathematical exercises from the book. It was slightly better, but he still thought he had never been looking forwards to elevenses so much in his entire life.
He started the second set of lessons with English and discovered that that was significantly better – Harry could spell decently and had no trouble understanding a written text, even though his knowledge of literature was pitiful and he would have to learn to write with a quill. History, too, was cheering – Alduin let his young charge speak, talk about what interested him the most and what he remembered from classes, and found that here there was an interest he could build on. Alexandra would be pleased. It made him even more angry about the terrible state of Hogwarts' history education.
He was starting to feel optimistic about the day, when the last lesson, science, made him want to tear his hair out again. He was quite certain explaining the difference between a vein and an artery was not supposed to be that hard.
As they relocated to the dining room for lunch, he reminded himself to keep history classes for the end in the future, to have something to look forward to.
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After lunch, Harry ran to his room to mess with the watercolours he had been given to work with. He also got some interesting chapters to read in history and English textbooks, and overly, this way of studying seemed much more pleasant than at school, where he could hardly see the blackboard and someone always seemed to be pushing him or passing him mean notes or ruining his work in some other way. Perhaps it could even – dare he say it? - be fun?