I never liked Harry's response to the knowledge of how wealthy he is. It just doesn't make any sense for a child who has been raised on scraps and hand-me-down clothes should behave as Harry does.

All of the characters except for my own handful of originals, as well as locations, names, titles etc are and remain the property of JKR and I hope you like it. Review please, this might well be a LONG work in progress.

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Chapter 6: Small Truths and Raspberry Ripple

Hagrid drove the motorcycle along the ground for many miles, grumbling occasionally about traffic and not being able to just fly into the heart of London.

'Why can't you just fly there, Hagrid?' Harry asked as they were sat at an intersection. His bottom had become numb more than an hour ago.

Hagrid laughed his deep cave-echo of a laugh. 'Because that'd break the... umm... Statue of Secrecy... no that's not right.' His beetle-eyes rolled around for a few moments until Harry was sure the giant had suffered some kind of breakdown when, with a sound like a tree being snapped in half, Hagrid clicked his fingers.

'The Statute of Secrecy!' He said, pride filling his voice. 'The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.'

'What's that?'

Hagrid's brow furrowed, turning his face into a wall of black moss. 'It's umm... like... how... well, basically, a long time ago Wizards decided that it'd be a good idea for muggles not to know that they, as in we, existed.'

'Really?' Harry mused, no more clear on the matter. Why?'

Hagrid shrugged and gunned the engine of the bike as the traffic lights changed. After a few minutes he turned back to Harry. 'Sorry Harry, what were we talking about?'

'The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.' Harry said. He liked Hagrid: he was friendly, polite and was singlehandedly responsible for – as far as Harry was concerned – saving his life, but he was clearly not very bright.

'Ah right. Well, the gist of it is that they decided that it'd be best if the muggles didn't know we existed except in stories. Caused a lot of fuss when it all happened, apparently.'

Harry nodded, understanding that he'd reached the extent of Hagrid's knowledge on the subject, decided to change tack. 'Did you know my parents, Hagrid?'

Hagrid swerved a little bit, eliciting a scream of horns from the other cars on the road then shouted a few apologies and waves of his dustbin lid-sized hands. He cleared his throat and looked at Harry. 'Lilly and James Potter, I knew them well.' He said, nodding sadly.

'What were they like?' Harry asked, suddenly hungry for any tiny piece of knowledge that he could get about people that he had no memory of and about whom he'd heard nothing but lies all of his life.

'Where to start...' Hagrid mused. Clearly this was a subject that was testing the limits of his memory and reasoning. He cleared his throat yet again and started speaking hesitantly. 'Well, they met at school, Hogwarts I mean, of course when they were both sorted into Gryffindor house, my own old house, that.' His vast chest swelled with pride as he stated this.

'What's Gryffindor?'

Hagrid made another pause where he started to weave in the traffic and scratched his head. 'Gryffindor is one of the houses at Hogwarts, named after the four founders: Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salezaar Slytherin.'

Harry ran his hand through his hair as the name Slytherin made a mental lightbulb ping on in his mind. He decided to file it away for the time being in case changing the subject confused his enormous chaperone. 'So, my mom and dad were in Gryffindor?'

'Oh yes, Harry and they were an excellent witch and wizard both. Your mom, Lilly, was even more impressive because she was muggleborn.'

'Muggle born?'

'Yes, muggleborn,' Hagrid echoed, 'It means that neither of her own parents were magic, you see. A lot of people don't think much of muggleborn people because they tend to have a harder start in the magical world due to not knowing anything until they receive their letters...'

'Like me?'

Hagrid made a loud Harumphing sound deep in his chest. 'I suppose so in a way, you being raised by those twits and their idiot boy, but don't you worry your head about it, Harry. You'll be right at home there, just like I am.'

Harry wasn't comforted. Undoubtedly the muggleborn students would all get lots of help with adjusting to their new lives. What help would he get? He was going to be dropped into a school of magic with no idea of what was happening or how it happened. A frown creased his face and his mouth settled back into the expression of sullen sadness that it had held almost constantly for the last eleven years.

He was dimly aware of Hagrid chattering away, probably about the wonderful Hogwarts and his amazing, powerful parents, but he paid no attention.

How could his parents be good magic users if they got themselves killed? They obviously hadn't cared about him if they'd left him in the care of the hated and stupid muggles known as the Dursleys...

He edged his finger under the too-large cuff of his sleeve and felt Nidhogg's tongue tickle the tip. At least the snakes had never lied to him. They'd always been there for him. He'd listen to Salatin's advice and watch out for what he assumed to be people from Slytherin house and it sounded like if his careless parents and the oaf next to him were examples of Gryffindors he wanted nothing to do with them either.

'Maybe Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw will be better?' He whispered to the tiny snake, not holding out much hope.

Eventually Hagrid seemed to notice his sullen mood and fell silent himself as they wound their way toward the capitol.

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Harry was jerked out of a dream of a red-headed woman surrounded by green light who was screaming his name over and over by the blasting noise of a truck horn.

'Wakey wakey, Harry.' Hagrid said, shaking his shoulder with surprising gentleness.

Harry coughed in the fumes of trucks and rubbed his eyes, the motion dislodged Nidhogg from his wrist and he felt the tiny snake crawl up his sleeve and settled back on his shoulder.

'Not there, just in case he pats me on the shoulder or something.' Harry whispered.

'What's that, Harry?' Hagrid said as Nidhogg slid down to the small of his back.

'Nothing, just clearing my throat.' Harry said.

A few minutes later, Hagrid pulled into a large car park. They were in Whitehall, Central London.

'Where are we Hagrid?' Harry said, clambering out of the side car and fluffing his hair out of the flat mash that it had been blown into by the wind.

'This, Harry is the largest Par Carp... no, that's not right... Car Park for Wizardkind in all of England. Not many of our kind use muggle transport, y'see, most of them use things like brooms or just apparate. I can't use a broom, they won't carry me and... well, I'm not allowed to apparate.' The small gap between Hagrid's beard and eyebrows flushed a bright red.

Harry, completely ignorant about what the giant meant by "brooms" or what apparating was, realised that further questions might make him cry.

Hagrid sighed heavily and sniffed before waving his hand to Harry and turning toward a small door.
Harry followed, having to jog to keep up despite the fact that Hagrid was affecting little more than a slow plod.

They arrive at an ancient-looking elevator with a sliding gate made of glass that groaned and dropped several inches as Hagrid squeezed inside. Harry managed to fit inside with an inch between his nose and the gate.

'Hold tight Harry, the Ministry lifts can be a bit uncomfortable the first time you use'm.' Hagrid said as the elevator started to descend.

Harry's stomach clenched in anticipation and was about to relax, wondering if it was just an idiot giant thing to feel unwell in elevators when their small metal box jerker laterally along the ground, tripling its speed.

After a moment of hurtling in every direction and in complete darkness, Harry understood what Hagrid had meant and felt his almost empty stomach trying to betray him.

A moment later; light, sound and smells flooded the chamber. That was the final straw and as the gate slid open, Harry fell forward and vomited out onto grimy cobblestones.

When his stomach was completely empty, Harry felt Hagrid's hand – it could only be Hagrid's because it almost covered his back – grip his shirt and lift him gently to his feet.

'Sorry 'bout that Harry, it's not always that rough. There must be nargles in the machinery.'

Harry wiped his mouth and wiped away tears that had dripped onto the lenses of his glasses, one of which had somehow cracked straight down the middle.

Settling them back on his nose, his mouth dropped open.

The sight took him a few moments to understand. The elevator seemed to have deposited them in a street taken out of a kiddies history book of London. All around him were grey wooden buildings, most at precarious angles with shingled roofs. Each building appeared to be a shop of some kind, most with their goods on display outside.

He saw signs that read 'Apothecary' and 'Quidditch Supplies' all written in bright, elaborate letters with painted pictures

Somehow weirder than the buildings were the people: there were hundreds of people milling around the streets, shouting, laughing, running and – in a few cases – crying. They all wore the same crazy array of robes, pointed hats and cloaks that Harry had seen after the zoo incident. One woman was running in their direction, bright blonde hair flowing from the back of an emerald green robe that was hitched up around her knees revealing puce leggings and fuchsia boots with what looked like crystal heels. She cried out happily when a tall, thin man with a long nose and elaborate moustaches caught her and kissed her on the cheek. He was wearing a navy blue shirt with dark brown knee length boots and huge baggy trousers.

Harry managed to tear his eyes away from the street for a moment to look at Hagrid who was smiling broadly at him, his beetle eyes twinkling. 'Welcome, Harry, ' he said, gesturing to the street, 'to Diagon Alley.'

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Five minutes later, Harry and Hagrid were sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying massive –for Harry – cornets covered in sauce. Harry had Raspberry Ripple while Hagrid was holding a quadruple Rum and Raisin between thumb and forefinger, trying to resist swallowing the thing whole.

It turned out that Diagon Alley was the centre of magical life and shopping in London and where witches and wizards came to stock up on the more rare or foreign goods they needed.

Hagrid sighed and gave up the battle, popping the whole ice cream into his mouth and chewing contentedly. When he swallowed he pointed to Harry's shirt pocket. 'Right then Harry, what does your letter say that you need?'

Harry licked his ice cream, saving it from dripping and pulled the battered envelope from his breast pocket, pulling the letter out. He read the list which started relatively mundane and grew confusing and difficult to pronounce, eventually becoming bewildering. 'Broomstick, as in flying broomstick?' He asked when he completed the list.

Hagrid chuckled and nodded, 'C'rect, you'll probably be an amazing flyer like your dad but you'll have to wait for now.' He groaned, standing up from his chair and beckoned for Harry to follow.

Gobbling down the rest of his ice cream, Harry fell into a quick walk in Hagrid's wake. 'Hagrid?' he asked, pulling on the back of the giant's jacket, 'How am I supposed to afford all this? It sounds expensive and...' He paused, patting the pocket with Petunias roll of notes, 'I don't have any money.'

Hagrid laughed his deep boom again and ruffled Harry's hair which felt like being pressed by some giant sanding device. 'Of course you have money, Harry. It's there.'

Harry pushed in front of Hagrid and followed the line of his finger. He was pointing to one of the few stone buildings in the alley which was also the largest by a long way. Yet again, his mouth fell open.

'That Harry,' Hagrid said, pushing Harry along, 'is Gringott's bank. Run by Goblins so you know not to stare; frightful intelligent, Goblins, but not the friendliest of beasts.'

Harry ran up the marble steps to the banks entrance and fidgeted waiting for Hagrid. 'How do I have money, Hagrid?'

'Your parents of course, you didn't think they'd left you with nothing now did you?' Hagrid asked, like Harry's question had been absurd.

Anger flared in Harry. 'How would I know? I only learned how my parent's really died today, oh yeah, and that witches and wizards are real, that there are flying motorbikes and brooms and that there are banks owned by Goblins!'

Hagrid lifted his hands palms out, 'Okay, fair point. Your mom and dad were very talented magicians, like I told ye, but it all really comes from the fact that the Potters are a really old pure-blood family, really wealthy. The goblins manage most of your money I imagine, investing it and things.'

'I'm rich?' The idea of being anything other than absurdly poor had never crossed Harry's mind. The idea of being "Really wealthy" was impossible to comprehend.

Hagrid nodded. 'Oh yes. You won't have access to much until you come of age, of course – just enough to enjoy yourself and make sure you're comfortable. But, come your seventeenth birthday, the entire Potter estate would come to you as you're the only living member of the family.'

Harry coughed and started to choke with shock. Hagrid clapped him on the back and pulled him through the huge golden revolving doors.

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