"Are you ready to enter the wizarding world Potter?" Asked Professor McGonagall as they stood on the busy streets of London.
After she had declared that he was going to school, the professor told him he was going to side-along-apparate to the entrance to Diagon alley, where he could get all his school supplies. He had tried not to flinch as Professor Mcgonagal suddenly grabbed his arm tightly. Normally when that happened to Harry it meant he had done something bad, and pain was coming in the form of uncle Vernon's fist or Aunt Petunia's palm or frying pan. But either the professor didn't notice his reaction or pretended not to as she gripped him more firmly and spun on the spot.
Harry felt that a bit more of a warning might have been nice before 'apparating' to London. Appartating felt like being shrunk down painfully into a box. His eyeballs felt like they had been loosened from his sockets, then forced back in. When Harry's vision stopped blurring, his eyes focused on a shady-looking bar. The sign on the storefront read The Leaky Cauldron. All the people passing by the establishment seemed to skip over it with their eyes. They went from the record shop on one side, to the small boutique on the other. It was like they couldn't see the lopsided pub. Then Harry reminded himself that was probably true.
He was entering the world of magic. Not that he had a lot of time to process the existence of it. Even so, he was expecting something more magical than a run-down tavern.
"This is the entrance?" Asked Harry, pointing to the pub.
"Yes. Tom, the owner, unfortunately has not made any updates since the late 1800's, so it's a bit shabby." Said Professor Mcgonagal, wrinkling her nose as she pushed open the door to the pub. "But the leaky cauldron has served as the entrance to Diagon Alley for as long as anyone can remember. It can't be seen by any muggles passing by, unless they are with a witch or wizard."
When they entered Harry looked around eagerly. The bar was lit with dusty light. There were a few old age-spotted witches muttering in a corner. A couple of older wizards were smoking pipes and reading a newspaper with the title 'The Daily Prophet' in another. Younger witches and wizards sat around in a mix of high and low tables, eating and drinking typical pub fare. A few people sat at the bar talking to the wizard behind it, who was wiping glasses with a dishrag.
"Ello' Minerva!" Said a young witch drinking a pint of foamy green liquid. "Passing through with a new student?"
"Yes, Carrie." Said Professor Mcgonagal, clearly trying to move Harry along, shepherding him through the crowded pub.
"Wait, Minerva, can it be…?" Said the man behind the bar, squinting through the gloom. "Harry Potter?"
The bar went silent. Harry shifted uneasily as Professor Mcgonagal sighed.
"Yes Tom. This is Harry Potter." She said tiredly.
Immediately the man closest to them stood up and stuck out a hand. Harry flinched back, but it seemed the squat, portly man just wanted a hand shake.
"Barnabas Plum, Harry Potter." He said, shaking Harry's hand up and down very fast. "Such an honor."
"Uh, nice to meet you?"
Before Harry could think of anything more to say to Barnabas Plum, another wizard wiggled between them to shake Harry's hand. He had a large top hat that wiggled precariously on his head. He bowed low to Harry and the top hat fell off.
"Just so excited to finally meet you Mr. Potter," squeaked the top hat wizard. "I'm Deedilous Diggles!"
"Hullo, Mr. Potter." Said a witch in a husky voice. She had on quilted magenta robes that made her look like a tea cozy. "We have been eagerly awaiting your introduction to the wizarding world."
At this point a crowd surrounded Harry on all sides, made up of everyone in the room. Even the barkeeper was fighting for a chance to shake Harry's hand. He felt panicky and trapped, but there was nothing he could do. The hand shaking and excited greetings went on for quite awhile. Mr. Diggles kept coming back for more hand shakes, until Professor Mcgonagal quelled him with a look. The barkeeper, who turned out to be Tom the owner of The Leaky Cauldron, kept saying,
"Harry Potter! In my bar! Such an honor! What a day!"
Finally, Professor McGonagall said in a strict and no-nonsense voice, that Harry could only assume she used in the classroom, "Harry and I have a lot of things to be doing. If you would excuse us…Tom can we access the back alley? Come along Harry."
Mr. Diggles got one last handshake in, Harry waved half-heartedly to everyone, and followed Professor Mcgonagal out the back door into a dirty alleyway. The door they excited faced a brick wall, on one side there were some crumpled newspapers and on the other there was a trash barrel. Professor Mcgonagal had pulled out her wand and stood facing the wall. Harry walked up beside her and she looked down at him with an almost-smile.
"Sorry about that, Potter." She said, "I knew something like that was going to happen, so I can't say I'm not surprised. You better be prepared for people wanting to shake your hand all over the wizarding world."
"I really don't like it." Harry mumbled. "And I don't get it."
"You-know-who had been terrorizing the wizarding world for years, with no end in sight to the war. Until you defeated him, many were convinced we were going to live under his rule one day,"
"Oh." Said Harry, taking a moment to mull that over. He guessed it made sense. Then he looked around the alleyway. "So why are we back here?"
Professor Mcgonagal made a movement that he mistakenly thought was a slap coming for him. He had stupidly asked a question, normally a perilous action in the Dursley's house. But it was just Professor Mcgonagal pulling out her wand. She started taping the bricks on the wall in front of them.
"Remember this Potter, if you ever have to enter Diagon Alley on your own." Said Professor McGonagall "Three up, and two across. We will get you a wand today, so don't worry about that."
Suddenly there was a small hole in the wall. It grew and grew, until it was big enough for four tall people to fit through. Harry's breath caught in his throat. Somehow, through the hole, there was a busy street bustling with people. Shops lined the cobblestone stone street, painted all different colors, and advertising different things. The people in the streets all wore cloaks and robes, and some wore pointed hats.
"Are you coming, Harry?" Asked Professor Mcgonagal. "We have lots to do today, and very little time before I have to bring you back to your aunt and uncle."
"Yeah, okay." Harry stuttered and hurried down the street after Professor Mcgonagal.
Harry looked all around him fascinated, and feeling more curious than he had ever allowed himself to feel. One shop they passed seemed to sell different ingredient for potion making, or at least that's what Harry gathered from the snatches of conversation he heard. Another store sold "the finest household supplies for the modern witch!" or so the poster on the window exclaimed. The next window had telescopes, scales, and cauldrons displayed.
As Harry passed each store, one thing became increasingly clear. He would need money to buy everything. Uncle Vernon had said he wouldn't pay for anything, so how could he afford even a bit of frog spawn?
"Professor Mcgonagal, I don't mean to be a bother, but how can I afford my school supplies? There's a whole list! And you heard my uncle. He won't pay for any of it."
Proffered McGonagall looked down at him and gave him that half-smile again.
"Where do you think we are going? To Gringotts, the finest bank in the world. Your parents left you everything they owned, and they kept their money in a vault at Gringotts." Said Professor McGonagall. "The bank is run by goblins. Nothing could keep a bank more safe or sacred."
"Oh."
That was all Harry could think to say in response. He wanted to ask what a goblin was, and if all creatures the muggles thought were fake were real. They turned a rounded bend in the uneven road. At the end stood a tall, elegant, white marble building. Columns supported a smooth, pale grey roof, and gold trim decorated the whole building. As they approached, Harry saw two short creatures guarding the door. They must have been goblins. The short creatures had long ears, and even longer fingers holding spears. The goblins were dressed in well-made suits and wore serious frowns as they watched each witch or wizard who entered the bank closely.
As Professor McGonagall and Harry crossed the threshold to the bank, he felt the eyes of the goblins rake over his scar. They didn't comment, and for that Harry was grateful. He followed the Professor further into the bank, looking around in amazement. More columns supported the decorative ceiling; the floors were white marble, with grey veins. The teller booth in front of them was more marble, black this time, and edged with gold, and each desk had a goblin looming behind it.
Professor McGonagall led Harry up to a free desk. Harry couldn't help but think this desk was free because the goblin behind it looked extra frightening. This particular goblin had extra piercings, including one that was a long, sharp fang. As they approached the goblin bared his teeth in what Harry thought (and hoped) was concentration.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall." said the goblin in a gravelly voice. "What can I do for you today?"
"Good afternoon, Ulrick," said Professor McGonagall. "I have young Mr. Potter here."
The goblin, whose name was Ulrick, leaned forward over the desk to look at Harry. He felt Ulrick's stare rake over his scar, hidden behind his curly bangs.
"Well, I'll summon Griphook," said Ulrick. "He's in charge of the boy's accounts."
"Is there more to do than just go down to his vault?" asked Professor McGonagall. The normally stoic woman appeared startled.
"Griphook will tell you," said Ulrick.
Another goblin came over. This one had red tattoos on his neck, in sharp, spikey spirals. Griphook motioned for Professor McGonagall and Harry to follow him down a hall lined with unmarked doors and portraits of goblins dressed like kings and conquerors. Griphook opened one of the doors and led Harry and the professor into an office. The goblin sat behind the desk and straightened his collar. Harry looked around the office as the goblin went to grab something from a cabinet behind him. The office was made with black paneling and purple wallpaper, the furniture made out of rich oak. Harry couldn't help but feel scruffy compared to the decor.
The goblin, Griphook, turned his chair back around and placed a box on the table. He gestured for Harry to sit in the chair in front of him and Harry obediently sat, looking curiously at the box in front of him. It was small, made with polished dark wood much like the office they were in, and inlaid with gold around the edges. There was no opening, only a square at the front of the box that seemed to permanently hold it closed.
"Griphook, is it necessary for him to receive those now?" asked Professor McGonagall in a sharp voice.
"His parent's wishes were for him to receive his Heir rings the minute he came to Gringotts," said Griphook, stroking the box. "We are only doing as we were asked."
"What's an Heir ring?" asked Harry, sensing it was something more important than just a ring his great grandmother might have had. Everything was so overwhelming.
"Well Harry… an Heir ring is something old wizarding families use to transfer familia power into the next generation in the family. The firstborn, or the heir, receives a ring from their family whenever the family thinks they have lived up to their name," said Professor McGonagall looking at Harry. "With it comes a bit of power, and the ability to channel more stamina into magic. Family Magics are closely guarded secrets and every ring is guarded carefully."
"Oh." was all Harry could think to say.
"All you need to do Mr. Potter," directed Griphook. "Is to press your finger to this square. It will burn hot for a second, but it will only burn and scar you if you are an imposter."
"Okay," said Harry. He reached his finger forward with a slightly shaking hand, and pressed the digit to the square. Just like Griphook said, it burned hot for a minute, and then immediately cooled down. The box swung open and inside were four glittering rings on a pillow of black velvet, and a furled scroll.
He had to admit that he was kind of excited to get something from his parents. A connection to them, no matter how small, was nice.
"Oh my lord," gasped Professor McGonagall. "I've met children with two Heirdoms, but never children with four. That kind of power in a child…"
She looked a little alarmed. Harry was new to this world, and the idea of Heirships. He didn't even really know what having one meant. Griphook acted like he saw this every day, but Harry imagined very little could shake the goblin. Griphook reached into the box and unfurled the scroll. It had neat print on it with the title;
THE HIERSHIPS OF ONE HARRISON JAMES POTTER-BLACK-SLYTHIREN-PRINCE
"Is having a lot of last names and not knowing about them normal?" asked Harry, staring at the declaration on the page.
"No, not exactly, young Potter-Black-Slytherin-Prince," said Griphook with what Harry assumed was a chuckle.
"Nothing about this is normal in any case I would imagine," said Professor McGonagall worriedly. "Can you explain this Griphook?"
"Well, first we need to see which ring is which," said Griphook calmly. "It should be fairly easy. They all have such different Magics."
He held up the scroll and read.
"The first ring comes from the blood-adopted House of Potter."
Griphook paused as if that should mean something to Harry, but he was barely following along at this point. Professor McGonagall however gasped and clasped her hands to her mouth.
"You mean Harry was adopted by James? He wasn't truly his father?" asked Professor McGonagall, with something like horror in her tone.
This took a second to sink into Harry's mind. Then his mouth fell open. Aunt Petunia never told him much, but what she did tell him was that Harry's mother married James Potter and had him. Nothing she said about either of them was very nice, and Harry always doubted it all, but he had taken the name of his father as fact. Now his already turned upside world was shaking. He was a wizard, and the unknown man he considered his father, wasn't really his father.
"You are forgetting, Professor, that blood adoption is as good as fathering in our world," said Griphook shortly. He looked over at Harry. "Do not worry, you are the same as when you woke up this morning. You just have gained more knowledge, and let us not forget, more power."
"So then who is my father?" asked Harry.
"Well, it couldn't be Black." said Professor McGonagall. "The last heir was a traitor and worked for the man who killed your parents. He-he was their closest friend at school before he turned dark, and I hate to have to tell you this- your Godfather."
"Then why am I the Black Heir?" asked Harry, trying to process all this information.
"Well, they named him your godfather," said Professor McGonagall. "And he had no children himself. So in theory, he could have put you down as his heir, then never corrected it when he decided to betray your parents."
She looked over at Griphook for confirmation. He nodded slowly.
"Well, yes," he said. "That is true. However, he could have been named your godfather because he was your real father."
Professor McGonagall frowned. Then inclined her head toward the goblin, as if to say it was possible.
"What about the other two? Prince and Slytherin?" asked Harry.
"Well, the Prince line died out as far as I know. But now seeing you with that ring makes me wonder..." said Professor McGonagall thoughtfully.
"And Slytherin?" asked Harry.
The room seemed to have lost its air as Harry voiced the question. Both Griphook and the Professor turned to look at Harry. He flinched, waiting for a blow. He has gotten so used to asking questions. Perhaps he finally asked one too many?
"Well I would hate to think that…" said Professor McGonagall in a slightly wobbly voice. "It would mean your mother was raped by the wizard who killed her."
Harry stared.
"Well, I doubt that." said Griphook bluntly. "Heirships can also be passed by wizards and witches who defeat the last of another line. That's probably it. I wouldn't worry too much. No more information is given here about how you got each house unfortunately."
That seemed to end the subject of who could be Harry's dad, though Harry still did not have an answer. The goblin looked back to the scroll in his long-fingered hands.
"The Potter ring should come first I think," Griphook said, putting down the scroll. He then gestured to the box. "It's in your hands now Mr. Potter-Black-Slytherin-Prince. Find a ring that feels like the Potter Magic."
"How do I do that?" asked Harry bewildered. He only found out about magic and Heirdoms today. He had no idea how to go about 'feeling' for magic.
"Potter, it's all in your gut. Just look closely at the rings and you will know," said Professor McGonagall, as if teaching a lecture.
"Uh, okay. I guess it won't hurt to try."
Harry looked closely at the rings. The one that first caught his eye, was a simple silver band with a wide grey oval inlaid with tiny glittering diamonds. But somehow he knew that that ring couldn't possibly be it. He looked at the other rings. The one in the middle of the box, as if it was put there with pride, was a ring with a boldly cut ruby on a thick gold band. Harry tentatively reached his hand into the box and pulled out the ring from the black velvet. He held it up to the light and looked at it curiously. It seemed to be humming with excitement.
"Well, Potter, what finger does it want to go on?" said Professor McGonagall, "Every heir ring likes a certain finger. If it's on the right finger, it will tell you."
Harry thought for a minute, looking at the ring. The band looked wide, so he first tried it on the middle finger of his left hand. He waited for a minute, looking down at the ruby ring. Nothing happened. He took that as a sign that it wasn't the correct finger. He thought about trying other fingers on his non-dominant hand, but in the end, something was telling him the ring would like to be on his right hand.
He pushed the ring on his pointer finger and when it reached where the digit met its palm the band appeared satisfied. He could smell his favorite dessert he never got to have, treacle tart, and there was a lick of red flame coming from the ring that startled him.
"Woah, what was that?" asked Harry.
"The ring connected to your magic. In time you will start to access the power that comes with that ring." said The Professor.
"Well, shall we continue?" asked Griphook.
The Black ring turned out to be a silver band with a large polished lava stone. The ring slipped easily onto the finger next to the Potter ring. Harry smelled something ancient, collecting dust in an attic and there was a bit of black smoke.
Griphook then told him to choose the Slytherin ring. If Harry thought the professor looked uneasy at the idea of the Black ring, she looked downright furious at the Slytherin ring. She glared at the silver ring crowned with an emerald when Harry lifted it out of the box like it had done her a personal wrong. Nevertheless, it slipped easily onto the middle finger of Harry's left hand. He smelled a damp forest, and there was a flash of dark green light. Griphook told Harry that the ring was from one of the most ancient families.
"It hasn't been worn in nearly a century." said the goblin. "I'm sure it's very happy to see the light of day."
Professor McGonagall made a little choking sound, but the goblin glared at her, and she quieted.
Finally, there was the Prince ring. It turned out to be the one that first caught Harry's eye. He pushed it onto the pointer finger of his left hand with a finality that felt like coming home. There was a swirl of sparkly, grey mist, and the scent of cool, damp caves.
After all the rings were on his fingers Griphook rolled up the scroll and set it on the table.
"That will be all Mr. Potter-Black-Slytherin-Prince." the goblin said. "I assume you would prefer us to summon gold for you from one of your vaults, rather than go down and get it?"
"Uh, what?"
"Your vaults that hold your gold, Potter. Though I'm shocked it's plural, to be frank." said Professor McGonagall. "And Griphook, I don't think we will have time to go to Harry's vaults or even a vault today. If it wouldn't inconvenience the bank, pull some gold from the Potter Vaults."
Griphook snapped his fingers and a brown sack appeared on the table and the goblin pushed it toward Harry. He picked it up, and it made a nice jingling sound. Harry opened it up and looked inside. Big fat gold coins lay inside, bouncing around in the dark together. This was more money than Harry had ever held in his life!
"Thank you Griphook for your help today," said Professor Mcgonagall. "Let us go, Harry."
"Wait, one more thing." said Griphook. "I would advise that Mr. Potter-Black-Slytherin-Prince takes some time to read up on the houses that he is inheriting. I could pull the heir manuscripts for each house if you would like."
Harry looked to Professor McGonagall in confusion.
"Each noble house from the wizarding world has a few manuscripts to go along with them. Usually one for the lord, one for the partner of the lord, and one for the heir." Professor McGonagall said. "The one for the heir is full of information on the family magics, can be used to trace the family tree, and they usually have some secret spells that houses like to keep to themselves."
Harry was still a little baffled, so Professor McGonagall turned to Griphook herself and said.
"We'll take all four Griphook."
The goblin nodded and snapped his fingers again. Four old, thick books appeared stacked on top of each other. One had a black cover with gold trim around the edges. Another was red with a bold print in gold on the spine. The oldest one was green with faded lettering barely noticeable with a silver shine. The one on top was grey and had a black spidery scrawl. It read The Prince Heirdom Manuscript.
The goblin pulled out brown paper to wrap them in individually, and then slipped each wrapped tomb into a tan cloth bag. Griphook handed it to Harry and Professor McGonagall ushered Harry out of the office. Harry waved goodbye to the goblin, though he wasn't sure if that was a typical goblin farewell, and followed the Professor down the hall and into the bank. As they walked Professor McGonagall explained wizard money to Harry. The gold coins were called gallons, the silver ones sickles, and the bronze ones were called knuts.