Saturday 27 July 1991 Dursley Residence
It was just after eight in the morning when Harry finally dragged himself out of bed, grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the shower. While he was drying himself off, he paused and cocked his head and peered around the bathroom. Everything seemed normal but he had the weirdest feeling all that was about to change. Still puzzled, he shook his head and finished getting dressed.
Harry thumped his way back down the stairs and back into his room to put away his pajamas. The weird feeling persisted and he briefly wondered if it was the lingering result of what had happened when they went to the zoo to celebrate Dudley's birthday.
'Nah, it couldn't be. That vanishing glass was a figment of my imagination. Granted it was like magic, but I know that magic isn't real.'
Again, he shook his head hoping to dispel the bizarre feelings. He left his room and headed into the kitchen where his aunt was busy making breakfast.
"Good morning, Aunt Petunia."
"Morning, Harry. Did you sleep well?"
Shrugging, "Well enough I guess. I've been having a rather odd morning though."
"Oh? Odd in what way?"
"That's just it, I can't really describe it. It's just a feeling that something odd is going to happen today."
Petunia paused in her stirring of the porridge and gazed at her nephew, "Well, here's to hoping it's nothing dangerous. On a separate topic, what do you have planned for today?"
Sighing, Harry mentioned that he had some glaze jars that needed to be refilled, there was that statue in the front yard that needed to get repaired and he was also going to help Uncle Vernon test and replace the sprinkler heads if necessary.
"I also wanted to get a start on experimenting with that polymer clay I got the last time we were in London."
Petunia nodded throughout and placed a bowl of porridge in front of him then kissed him on top of his head.
"You're a good boy, Harry." Harry just smiled in response.
When the others assembled for breakfast, the sounds of the weekend mail delivery were heard. Vernon grunted to Dudley to go get the mail, who in turned groused that he just sat down. Dudley poked Harry in the arm and demanded that he go and get the mail. Harry grumbled that Dudley was being a lazy bum but still got up and headed to the front door. He picked up the stack of letters and flyers and began idly flipping through them.
'Bill, bill, postcard from Aunt Marge, letter to me, adv…Wait! A letter to me?'
"Hey, Harry? What's taking so long to pick up a couple of letters," Vernon loudly complained.
Blinking his eyes and clearing his throat, Harry scrambled back into the kitchen where he dropped the rest of the stack in front of his uncle and plopped back down onto his chair. Dudley leaned over to read what was written on the oddly colored and textured envelope.
"You got a letter? Who from?"
"Dunno, wait there's something written on the back." He turned it over and read out loud that the letter was from some place called 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'
It took a moment before Harry realized that the room was completely and utterly silent. He glanced up and reared back when he spotted the looks on his aunt and uncle's faces. Both were bug-eyed and slack-jawed, Vernon turning a puce-sort of color whereas Petunia had paled dramatically.
"Um… Are…are you alright?" he stammered nervously. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never reacted this way. Petunia was the first to partially recover the power of speech.
"Y-yes, Harry. Sorry about that. Ahem, well Vernon… I think it's time to tell him."
"Tell me/him what?" Both Dudley and Harry asked at the same time. Despite the seriousness of the moment, they both chuckled at the stereo-speaking.
Petunia sat down in her chair and took a moment to collect her thoughts. Vernon had gotten up and retrieved a glass of his favorite whiskey before settling again. The fact that he'd gotten the whiskey out this early in the morning didn't bode well for the coming conversation in Harry's mind.
"I guess there's no easy way to say this, Harry but… you're a wizard."
Silence reigned…
"A what?"
Petunia nodded morosely, "Just what I said: You're a wizard. Just like in the storybooks. You'll have to go to school to learn how to do the spells and whatnot. Your mother and father were magical as were your father's parents. My parents weren't and neither am I much to my sadness and a little bit of bitterness."
Thinking hard about what she had said, Harry wondered why they were just now telling him about this.
"Well, think about it Harry. If we had told you from the beginning and you didn't get your letter; what would you be feeling right about now?"
Harry hemmed about that before nodding, "I guess I'd be feeling rather upset as well." He held up the unopened letter, "You think I ought to go to this school?"
Petunia nodded, "Yes, I do. Your parents would've wanted you to go anyways and besides, your education there was all paid for since before you were born."
Harry glanced down at the envelope that had his address. 'Strange how specific it is.' "Alright, Aunt Petunia. I guess I have no choice. Uncle Vernon? Are you alright?"
Vernon had been sitting there quietly, slowly sipping away on his whiskey. When Harry asked about his feelings on the matter, he replied that he too thought Harry should go to this school.
"I had a feeling that you'd be able to go there. Petunia and I had agreed to keep our knowledge of the magical world to ourselves until you either got the letter or received a visit by one of those folks. As it is, we really don't know too much other than it does exist. After you read that letter, I recommend you send a reply back asking if they would send someone out to help you on where to go."
Harry opened the letter and pulled out a couple of sheets of a strange kind of paper.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class; Grand Sorcerer; Chief Warlock; Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Warlocks)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress
"My owl? What does that mean?" He wondered out loud. Petunia quietly grunted into her tea.
"That's their version of mail delivery. Trained owls deliver letters and packages."
Harry gave a perplexed look for a moment and shook his head in mild derision, "Weird, I guess. So how would someone like us be able to find said owls?"
Petunia gestured to the door, "Go check outside, up in the trees. Maybe the owl that delivered the letter is still waiting."
As it turned out, there was an owl sitting on a low branch on the nearest tree staring patiently at the Dursley residence when Harry stepped out front.
"Um… would you like to wait for a response there or would you like to come in for a moment?" he inquired, feeling rather stupid talking to a bird.
The owl quietly hooted and just settled down on the branch, to which Harry understood that it would wait there for his response. He dashed back inside and scratched out a quick note of acceptance and a request for a guide to take him to wherever he needed to go. Racing back outside, he slipped the note into a pouch attached to the bird's leg and watched as the feathered deliveryman, er…bird flew away.
Harry reentered the house and picked up the rest of the letter, envelope and the other pages within from the kitchen table before heading back to his room. He settled down on the bed and began to read the rest of the letter.
The first was the supply list:
'3 sets of plain black work robes, one plain black pointed hat, one pair of protective gloves…' "Dragon hide, are they kidding?" he exclaimed, "The clothes sound like something from a Halloween costume store. Hmm, I wonder if it would be cheaper to get them from a costume store? Well, I'll find out when the guide comes." He noted that there was nothing about regular clothes to be worn underneath these robes. 'I guess they figure that the kids' parents would realize the obvious.' He shrugged at that last bit.
Next was the book list:
"Let's see, 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1,' 'A History of Magic…' Neat, actual books on magic."
He wondered why there wasn't any mention of how he was supposed to store and carry all his belongings. Shaking his head in mild amusement, he supposed that it should be obvious except to the dimmest person that a trunk or suitcase of some sort would needed to be obtained.
Sighing, he flopped back onto his bed while re-reading the letter. He flipped through the pages before coming to a dawning horror, 'How am I supposed to pay for all this?'
He bounced out of bed and ran into the living room where he found his aunt and uncle watching the news. Petunia briefly glanced at his entrance before taking deeper note of his flushed state.
"Harry? Is there something wrong?"
Flustered, Harry handed her the supply list, "How am I supposed to pay for these things? I can't expect you to pay for them, it wouldn't be fair. Do you know if my parents left me anything?" He blurted this all in a rush.
Vernon held his hands up, "Slow down, Harry. This would be something to ask that guide who will be coming by to take you shopping. I've got to believe that your parents would've left you with something to buy your first supplies. If they didn't, the school probably will have some sort of charity program for those that need it."
Petunia had motioned for Harry to join her before wrapping her arms around him, "It's sweet of you to think of others. It shows that we've done something right in raising you."
Wednesday 31 July 1991 Dursley Residence
July 31st dawned clear and bright and promised to be a spectacular sort of day with sunny skies and warm weather. Harry burst out of his room, all full of energy and spunk. He wondered what his aunt and uncle were going to be doing for his birthday. True, he never wanted anything grand, he just wasn't materialistic that way, but some presents never hurt anyone.
He slid into the kitchen and threw his arms up in the air as he exclaimed, "THAT'S RIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT IS I, HARRY JAMES POTTER AND I'VE TURNED ELEVEN YEARS OLD TODAY!"
Loud laughter exploded from the kitchen as his cousin and uncle were practically falling out of their chairs at the sight of Harry standing there gesturing exuberantly in his cowboy pajamas and teddy bear patterned sock covered feet. Petunia too, was laughing but more restrained since she was trying to carry a plate of pancakes and sausages over to the table. She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and chuckled again.
Harry happily plonked down onto the chair and began pulling over the plate to serve himself some breakfast. Vernon managed to contain himself as he cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.
"Beautiful, Harry. Thanks for the morning show." Harry just grinned widely as he chewed on his pancakes.
After breakfast, Harry and the Dursleys gathered in the living room so Harry could open his presents. For his eleventh birthday, he got quite a haul: a set of smart looking clothes from Petunia, a book on Asiatic pottery making practices from Vernon, Dudley had gotten him a case of small mason jars. When Harry glanced up at his cousin at the sight of the gift, Dudley had shrugged and commented that he had noticed the jars his cousin was currently using were in desperate need of being replaced as most of them were cracked or chipped. Each of his friends had sent him a card, a couple were handmade, and apparently they had teamed up to get him a 100 pound gift certificate to the local art supply store.
After thanking each of them, Harry went to go grab some stationary to write thank you letters to each of his friends for the wonderful gift and cards. After that was done and put out to be mailed, he headed back out to his pottery shed to continue working and experimenting.
He clicked on the radio and tuned it to play something upbeat. The sounds of Aerosmith blasted out across the backyard as he began humming along with the song. He dug out an old, dingy box of broken pottery and using a pair of tile clippers, continued to chip away at the pieces. Once he figured he had enough to get started, Harry hoisted a blank concrete birdbath bowl onto the table and went in search for his bottle of waterproof epoxy.
It was around eleven o'clock in the morning when he noticed a positively huge shadow fall over his workspace. He looked up…and up again to see that there was a man of gigantic proportions standing there looking into the backyard. When the man spotted Harry, he beamed happily and waved.
"Happy birthday, Harry! It's been a while since I saw you last, you weren't but a wee baby then."
Harry could only stare back at the man, he seemed just too…big, to be real. He had bushy, wild looking brown hair and beard, beetle-black eyes that had a bit of a twinkle to them and a large, toothy grin on his face. His clothes seemed to look like they were animal skins roughly sewn together. Altogether, he appeared to have walked out of the woods from an adventure novel.
Remembering that the man had greeted him, Harry cleared his throat and said 'hello' back.
"I'm sorry for being so rude, I've just never met anyone so tall before."
The man waved that off, "Nah, it's no problem. I'm here to escort you for your shopping and introductions."
Harry slowly nodded acceptance of this, "May I ask what your name is?"
The man looked a bit chagrinned, "Right, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Rubeus Hagrid though everyone just calls me Hagrid. I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. I suspect you know all about Hogwarts, right?"
Harry briefly shrugged, "Not too much. My aunt and uncle didn't see the need to tell me until I got my letter."
Hagrid looked incensed at this.
Harry continued, "I can understand why they didn't tell me earlier, Hagrid. They told me that it would've made me bitter and angry if I'd been told and never got the letter to go."
Hagrid scoffed, "Like the son of James and Lily Potter would've never gotten his letter!"
Harry told Hagrid to wait while he grabbed his jacket and informed his relatives that his guide was there to take him shopping for his school supplies.
At Charing Cross Road…
Interestingly enough, Hagrid and Harry didn't travel magically. Hagrid had mumbled something about not being allowed to perform magic outside of Hogwarts. They took the Underground to Charing Cross Road and made their way on foot to the magically hidden entrance to The Leaky Cauldron. Harry had asked why no one else was able to see the pub to which Hagrid had explained that it was hidden away from muggle eyes. This led to further questions as to just what was a muggle. Harry didn't really like the way the term sounded as it made the non-magical people seem like country bumpkins but he kept the thought to himself.
They crossed through the barrier separating the outside from the door to the dinghy pub without too much trouble. Hagrid had spoken with the bartender that he couldn't stay for a drink as he was 'escorting young Harry here to get his school supplies.' This caused the few people that were in there to turn sharply and stare at the pair of them. Harry tried to hide behind Hagrid and loudly suggested that they leave before they were mobbed. Hagrid looked abashed as it became clear that the crowd of well-wishers were getting a bit pushy and noisy.
"Sorry about that, Harry. I didn't realize that folks might've reacted that way," Hagrid apologized.
"It does seem strange that I'm such a fascination to them. I'm just an ordinary boy."
Hagrid eye twitched a bit, "Well…that's not exactly true. Look, when we get a bit of time I'll try to give you a bit of background about your popularity." Harry accepted that and turned to face where they'd exited to.
They'd left the back of the pub and into a trash littered backyard when Hagrid pulled out a pink umbrella and tapped a specific sequence onto the brick wall. The bricks melted and reformed themselves into a fancy looking archway.
Hagrid turned and looked down to where Harry stood with his mouth wide open in surprise, "Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley!"
Harry's head was practically on a constant swivel as he and Hagrid made their way down the alley. His eyes were swinging in just about every direction as he attempted to see everything. There was a shop that sold cauldrons of just about every size and type of metal. There was a clothier that had a manikin displaying the latest in robes. What made that amazing was the manikin would occasionally shift position! Harry spotted a shop that touted the latest release of some sort of high-end brooms for a sport called, 'Quidditch.'
'It's like something out of my fantasy novels! This place is amazing!'
Harry caught up to Hagrid and tugged on his sleeve, "Hagrid? How am I supposed to pay for anything, I seriously doubt they take Sterling."
Hagrid pointed to a large, white marble building decorated in a quasi-Greek style architecture, "We're headed to Gringott's, Harry. Your parents would've left you with what you'd need."
As they approached, Harry spotted a pair of stout looking beings wearing gleaming armor and carrying wickedly sharp looking pikes. As they climbed the stairs, the beings bowed to them. Not knowing what else to do, Harry returned the bow much to the surprise on the guard's face.
Once inside, Harry again tugged on Hagrid's sleeve, "Sorry to keep bugging you, Hagrid but who are these…people?"
Hagrid chuckled good-naturedly, "They're known as Goblins, Harry. Fiendishly clever beings and downright scary when it comes to making or safeguarding money." Harry looked surprised at that but didn't doubt it when he saw the wicked claws on some of the tellers' hands.
They stepped up to the closest available teller when he called for them to approach, "Hello, Mr. Harry Potter here wishes to make a withdrawal."
"And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"
"Huh, hang on; I got it right here." Hagrid began rummaging around in his jacket.
Harry moved up to the counter and bowed, "Hello, sir. Would it just be easier for you to issue me a new key rather than waiting for Hagrid to eventually come up with it? I'll pay for whatever the fee is."
The teller's eyes widened a bit at the politeness coming from the young wizard and nodded slowly, "I can… it will cost you two Galleons."
"Um, sure. Next question, what's a Galleon?"
The teller gave him a wary sneer, "Are you sure you're a Potter?"
Harry shrugged, "I answer to the name, so I think so. Is there a magical way to check?"
"It will require a bit of your blood, wizard."
"Um, ok. As long as you don't take it using one of those wicked looking pikes the guards are holding."
The teller just laughed at that before taking out a small dagger and pricking Harry's ring finger. He dropped the blood onto a piece of parchment which then glowed a gold-ish color before fading away.
"Indeed you are a Potter, Mr. Potter. Here is your new key, make sure you don't lose this one as well. I will send your account manager a message that you are here and need to speak with him."
Hagrid looked a bit upset at that, "Hang on now, I'm to be taking him around to buy his school supplies. Dumbledore wouldn't be happy…" he trailed off as soon as he realized he'd said too much.
Harry didn't pick up on it but the Goblin did, "Albus Dumbledore has no say in the proceedings within this bank. If Mr. Potter needs to visit his family's account manager then so be it! Now step back."
Harry made to step away but paused a moment, "Just so I know for the future, is there a proper greeting and farewell I should be using?"
The teller briefly nodded, "There is but in this instance I'll just let it go. Speak with your account manager for more details."
"Thank you, sir."
Not two minutes after Harry and Hagrid moved away from the teller's desk, another Goblin approached and said that he'd be taking Mr. Potter to see his account manager. When Hagrid tried to follow, he was rebuffed rather gruffly.
Harry patted the larger man on his arm, "I'm sure it'll be fine, Hagrid. If you have other business you need to take care of, I can always meet you at the trunk store? I think that should be the first place I need to go."
Hagrid looked pensive before letting out a deep sigh, "Aye, very well Harry."
Harry turned back to his escort and motioned for him to lead the way.
The Office of Senior Account Manager Riptooth, Potter Family Accounts…
Harry noticed the nameplate on the door written in both English and in what he assumed was the Goblin equivalent. The route they took to get to the office was quick and efficient which spoke of how highly respected his family name was within the bank. Upon entering, Harry saw an older looking Goblin wearing an expensive, and armored, three-piece suit reading what appeared to be a report of some kind. As he entered the room, he thanked his escort for his time.
The older Goblin looked up from his reading and greeted Harry, "Good morning, Mr. Potter. My name is Riptooth. It's good to see you are looking healthy and with strong spirit."
Harry bowed to the Goblin, "Thank you, sir. I'm still not sure about the proper greetings I need to give. The teller out front said that you'd be able to help me."
"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Please, have a seat and we can begin." Harry sat down in the offered chair.
"To begin, I must ask you to provide proof as to who you say you are."
"Is it that blood draw thing because I already did that with the teller up front?"
An eyebrow rose, "Did you now, well that will make things easier. If you passed that test, then that works for me. Okay, to business; you probably have many questions for me. You've already asked about the proper etiquette in greetings and farewells, which is good to hear." Harry nodded.
Riptooth pulled a decent sized book off one of his bookshelves, "This book will cover most aspects of interacting with Goblins. Keep in mind that we are a warrior race. The tellers, vault runners, and cart operators are to be addressed using a greeting or farewell as if you are another warrior going about or performing a battle. Statements such as "May your enemies' blood wet your blade" are appropriate. If you're addressing an older Goblin in a higher position such as mine, you would use a greeting that speaks to the accumulation of wealth and family."
Harry took possession of the book, "Thank you, Riptooth. I'll return the book as soon as I can." The look on Riptooth's face showed that he approved of Harry's promise and manners.
"Next is your question of what a Galleon is. Yes, I was already informed by the teller about that. A Galleon is the largest denomination coin used within the magical world. It weighs two Troy ounces of gold and can be broken down into seventeen silver Sickles, which is the next lower denomination. The lowest denomination is the bronze Knut; twenty-nine of such make up a Sickle. Understand so far?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now; I have here your vault statement for the past ten years. Since the time of your birth, there has only been a small interest made off of the initial investment of 10,000 Galleons your father deposited. Nothing of note has occurred other than the monthly withdrawals of 50 Galleons that were to be used to offset the cost of raising you."
Harry looked puzzled at that, "Excuse me, sir but my aunt and uncle have never received any sort of money for my upkeep."
Riptooth's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Most irregular then. With your permission, I will start an audit to determine where this money is going." Harry agreed.
"To continue, until you reach your age of majority which currently stands at the age of 15, you will not be able to remove items from the main family vault nor will you be able to invest money in businesses." Harry accepted that.
"Sir, what about a Will? Do wizards use that sort of thing?" Riptooth nodded once.
"Yes, they do. I do not have a copy in my files though. You may have to check with the Ministry unless you find a copy at home."
Harry looked down at the large stack of paperwork in his hands and sniffed sadly, the harsh reminder that his parents should have covered all of this.
Riptooth noticed the boy's morose demeanor and cleared his throat, "In the meantime, would you like to visit your vault to withdraw some money?"
A vault runner appeared and escorted Harry to the mine carts that would take him to his vault. A harrowing ride later and the cart pulled to a stop outside of Vault 687. The cart operator took Harry's key and used it to open the door. Harry's eyes bugged out of their socket as he took in the tall piles of gold, silver and bronze coins. He couldn't believe how rich he was!
"Wow! Um, excuse me but how much would you recommend I take out to pay for my school supplies?"
The cart operator looked at him askance and cocked his head in thought, "Provided you don't go overboard, I'd recommend taking 100 Galleons, 75 Sickles, and 50 Knuts." Harry looked around for a bag of some kind to hold all of it before glancing back at the Goblin. The Goblin sighed in mild annoyance before telling him that a bag was available for 5 Knuts. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry paid for the bag before filling it with the recommended amounts.
Looking around still, he discovered that the vault held more than just coins. He found a couple of bookshelves crammed full of books of varying ages and subjects. He also found a traveler's trunk, still in excellent condition.
'Good. That's one thing off my list.' He opened it up to investigate and gave it a quick examination. There were four rooms; a bedroom, kitchen, storage and living room. The decorations suggested that the last time it was used was during the 1970s if the stylized flowers and hideous wall paint colors were any indication.
Strangely, there was a locked box sitting on the kitchen table. When he examined it a bit closer, he discovered that it had a note attached to it with his name on it. He opened the note and began to read:
My dearest Harry;
If you're reading this, then either your mother or I am dead. Within this box contains everything you'll need to establish yourself in the magical world. I love you so much that it makes my heart hurt. I'm sorry that we can't be there to see you grow up but you will always be forever loved.
Dad
Harry sat there at the table stunned silent. This was the first time that he'd ever seen anything written in his father's writing before and idly noted just how similar it was to his own chicken scratch. He tearfully smiled at that and traced his fingers over the lines on the page.
He climbed out of the trunk, wiped his eyes and noticed the books that were still sitting on the shelves in the vault. Pursing his lips in contemplation, he turned to the Goblin and asked if it were alright if he were to transfer the books to the trunk. The Goblin shrugged and replied that anything that happened inside the vault was no business of his.
It took about thirty minutes of simple shifting of books; he figured he'd sort them out later before he was loading the trunk onto the vault cart for the journey back to the surface.
He had the vault runner escort him back to his account manager. When Harry was bid to enter, he motioned to the trunk, "I found this trunk in my vault. The trunk itself is pretty amazing but what's more amazing is a locked box sitting on the table. Gimme a moment and I'll get it." He said this all in a rush as he opened the trunk and dove inside. Riptooth merely grunted as he heaved his bulk out of his chair and moved around the desk to the opening of the trunk.
Harry reappeared a moment later carrying the small locked box with his father's note still attached to it. Riptooth had him place it on the desk and waved his hand over it to detect what sort of magics were involved.
"Hmmm…I'm not detecting anything harmful. It looks like it's locked shut with a blood lock. You'd just need to stick your finger within the recess there so it can sample a drop of blood. Harry did this and winced when the blood was withdrawn. There was a slight clicking noise as the clasp released itself. Riptooth reached out, lifted the lid and peered within.
Inside were a thick sheaf of papers, a stack of pictures and a key. Riptooth handed Harry the pictures and the key whilst retaining the paperwork for himself.
"Astounding! Here's the missing Will you'd inquired about earlier. Have a seat, Mr. Potter so we can read this together." Harry slowly slid into the seat while silently looking at the pictures.
After a taking a few moments to read through the Will, Riptooth grunted his approval, "Okay, Mr. Potter. The Will itself is pretty straightforward. Would you like to read it?"
Harry breezed past the usual boilerplate introductions and notices until he got to the bequeathments and requests:
"To Mr. Sirius Orion Black (Padfoot): We leave you guardianship of our Son, Harry James Potter as well as a monthly stipend of ten thousand Galleons (10,000G) for his care and education. Please raise our son to be a productive member of society and to look out for the fun things in life. We (Lily and James) have declared Sirius to be Harry's Godfather as per "the Godfather Ritual." Sirius, we love you and wish you the best."
"To Mr. Remus John Lupin (Moony): We leave you stewardship of the Potter Family Accounts and Businesses as well as input as to how Harry shall be raised. Moony, don't let Padfoot allow Harry to run wild. We trust in you to make sure they both keep their feet on the ground. In addition to the stewardship of the Potter Family Account, we leave Mr. Lupin a monthly stipend of one thousand Galleons (1,000G) for his own usage. This part is non-negotiable Moony! Get yourself some decent clothes and live, damn you!
"To Mr. Peter Andrew Pettigrew (Wormtail): We leave to you our notes and journals in the subject fields of Runes and Arithmancy as well as a one-time deposit of one thousand Galleons (1000G). You took a lot of ridicule from others even though we (James and Lily) could see your brilliance in these two subjects.
"To Ms. Minerva McGonagall: We leave to you access of the Potter Family Library with the proviso that you use them to teach the next generation to the best of your ability. Unfortunately, you cannot remove them from their current location Minerva; some of these books are one of a kind and should be protected from little hands, if you understand. Please also keep involved with Harry's life and education. You should know better than anyone else what kinds of mischief Padfoot and Moony can get up to! We also bequeath to you one thousand Galleons (1000 G) to be used for the Transfiguration Department.
"To our Son Harry James Potter: Upon your age of majority (seventeen), you will inherit all monies and properties belonging to the Potter Family. It is our hope that you will have been raised to be smart, loving and caring with those around you and ask that you forgive us for not being strong enough to share in your growing up. We miss and love you with all of our very being.
"To the Director of the Magical Law Enforcement (whomever it may be): If you are hearing/reading this then please note that we were betrayed by someone we thought was our friend and confidant. When we went into hiding, it was suggested by Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore to use the Fidelius Charm. We had initially decided to use Mr. Sirius Black (Padfoot) as our Secret Keeper but he (Dumbledore) suggested that we switch to another friend of ours, Mr. Peter Andrew Pettigrew. Albus explained to us that using Sirius as a Secret Keeper it would be too obvious of a choice. By using Peter, who'd ever suspect him? If we are dead, then use all of your power and influence to find and arrest Pettigrew. If Pettigrew is guilty of these charges then his bequeathments shall be null and voided.
"Additionally, under NO CIRCUMSTANCES is Albus Dumbledore allowed one Knut of money nor any artifact from the Potter Family Vaults or properties. There is something we do not trust about him, be it his pacifistic attitudes during a war or the empty platitudes given towards the muggleborns and those of mixed race descent. If there is anything missing that clearly belongs to the Potter Family (list enclosed), it is to be retrieved with all prejudice and fees to be paid by Albus!"
"Finally, We (Lily and James) want it known that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES shall our Son be left in the care of Lily's sister and her husband, Petunia Dursley nee Evans and Vernon Dursley. They hate any form and knowledge of the existence of magic and we (Lily and James) fear that they (Petunia and Vernon) would mistreat our Son."
When Harry finished reading, he blankly looked at Riptooth before thinking hard about what he'd just read. He let the Will slowly fall onto the desk and leaned back in his seat. Riptooth waited patiently for the young heir to formulate a response.
"Senior Account Manager Riptooth?" Harry began quietly but with a hint of steel in his voice, "Proceed with the investigation into the theft of the money from my trust vault then contact those you can mentioned in the Will. I want to know why I was never placed where I should've been ten years ago."
Riptooth nodded as he pulled over a piece of paper and a pen then began to write his notes.
"Once that's done, please determine how much my aunt and uncle were supposed to be paid in total for the past ten years including whatever extras that normally go with raising a magical child plus interest and deposit it in their bank account. I think they have an account with Barclay's." He quietly rose from his seat and packed up his trunk before turning to face the wizened Goblin.
"Thank you for your time, Riptooth. May your gold ever increase and your family be happy and healthy."
At Porter's Trunks and Things…
Harry easily spotted Hagrid amongst the other shoppers and waved to get the big man's attention. He adopted a happier attitude, as he didn't want to ruin the day with the revelations he'd learned in the bank.
"Hey, Hagrid! Look what I found in my vault. It's a four-room traveler's trunk. Now I won't have to go in there after all."
Hagrid smiled, "That's good to hear, Harry. I'd never be able to fit in there anyways. So where to now?"
Harry consulted his list, "I'm thinking that we ought to get the robes and other clothes done first. If they need to be tailored, that'll take a while."
"Aye, this way."
At Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions…
Harry entered the store and took a few moments to look over the fabric and trim selections. A seamstress came up and asked him if he was ready, to which Harry nodded his agreement.
"Okay, young man. Up on the pedestal and let's get this fitting robe on you. Arms up." A checkerboard-patterned robe was dropped down over his head. "First year at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm looking forward to it."
"I dare say you would be. It's an exciting place and shaping up to be an exciting year."
"Why's that?"
"Well, this is the year that young Harry Potter will be starting there! We're all abuzz here; imagine if I got to wait on him. I wonder what he'd be like?"
Harry shrugged, "I'd imagine him to be polite and respectful. I'd imagine that he'd want to be treated just like any other first year student."
The seamstress shrugged and noncommittantly agreed with that assessment as she continued to mark the robe with his measurements.
"Was there anything else you wished to try on? The school robes are pretty basic on the outside but there's no rule on what embellishments you can have on the inside."
"Well, there was this fabric lining over here that caught my eye. It's a pretty blue with gold stitching." He led her over to where the brocade was sitting on the shelf.
"Ah, yes. This would look lovely. Would you like me to add any additional pockets to the inside?"
"How much per pocket?"
"20 Knuts per pocket no matter the style."
"Then I'll take two additional pockets large enough to hold a wand and perhaps a small notebook and pen." The seamstress made a note of that before they headed back to the pedestal. She took off the fitting robe and filled out the order forms. She handed him his copy and informed him that the school set would be ready within two hours and that he could pay for them when he picked them up.
At Eeylop's Owl Emporium…
Before he stopped at the apothecary to pick up his potion supplies, Harry decided that he'd look for a pet or familiar. When he entered Eeylop's Owl Emporium, he was amazed by the wide varieties of owls to choose from. As he wandered around, he felt more than he heard the rush of feathered wings just before a beautiful Snowy Owl landed on his shoulder and began nuzzling his cheek.
"Right smart owl you got there, young man." Came the voice of the shopkeeper. Harry turned and smiled at the man then turned back to gaze up at the owl and brushing his finger across her breast feathers.
"She's beautiful. Wow, I think she'll be perfect. Does she have a name yet?"
"No, that'll be your task. Come on up to the front and I'll get you rung up."
At the apothecary…
He spoke at length with the shopkeeper as to what the Hogwarts Potions professor was like and what sort of requirements he had for beginning students.
"After all, it wouldn't be fair to him and proper for me to walk into his class unprepared."
The shopkeeper allowed for that and took Harry on a guided tour of the store while pointing out and suggesting ingredients that weren't normally on the official list but that might come in handy as well as showing the professor that Harry was serious about learning the subject.
After that was the general merchandise store for some odds and ends that had caught his eye for his traveler's trunk. He'd noticed early on that the magical world didn't use electrical power so he resolved to find the next best thing to provide even, bright lighting to study by. He decided not to get the brass telescope from the Astronomy store as its quality just seemed too low for his tastes, besides he knew of a store in the non-magical world that had a better selection and had cheaper prices.
At Ollivander's Wands…
This was the store that Harry had been dying to enter since they arrived in the alley. A magic wand! It was the thing that dreams of magic were made of. No self-respecting wizard could ever hope to wield magic without one…or at least that was what his fantasy novels proclaimed.
Harry entered the dusty, dimly lit store and wondered where the shopkeeper was.
"I was wondering when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Potter." Came a creaky voice somewhere amongst the shelves. "It seems like only yesterday when your mother and father were in here for their first wands."
A grey-haired older man shuffled out from the aisle way and approached the front counter. His eyes were almost pure white and he seemed to be an almost indeterminate age. "Your father, James Potter. Eleven inch long Mahogany wand. Pliable. Good for Transfiguration. Yes, I remember. Your mother, Lily Evans, Ten and a quarter inch long willow wand. Swishy. Good for Charms work. Now, let's begin with you shall we? Hold out your wand arm."
Not knowing what he meant by 'wand arm,' Harry held out his right hand, as that was the hand he wrote with. A floating tape measure started taking measurements for the most unusual points. 'Between my nostrils?'
Ollivander turned back to Harry and clicked his fingers, causing the tape measure to stop what it was doing and drop onto the counter. What followed next was a near parade of different types of wands and their cores as well as a running commentary by Ollivander.
"Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." That one didn't work too well. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand and went in search of another one.
"Here, Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches, quite whippy." Another failure yet Ollivander didn't seem to mind as he went back into the stacks. On and on this went for nearly half an hour, the stack of mismatched wands growing ever higher on the counter.
"Let's try this one. It's an odd combination but… holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry took the wand in hand and immediately knew that this was the wand for him. It felt warm and inviting in his hand, practically begging to be waved about and used.
"Wow, this…feels good!" He exclaimed happily.
"Excellent!" beamed Ollivander, "though curious."
Harry looked up, puzzled at Ollivander's observation, "I'm sorry but what's curious?"
"I remember every wand I've ever sold. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather. It's very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar." Ollivander intoned.
Harry's hand subconsciously came up and touched the scar. The shop was quiet as they both pondered the revelation. Harry though had an errant thought, "If you don't mind me asking but how does a wand identify whom it is they're destined for?"
Ollivander's eyes seemed to light up at the question as if no one had ever shown any interest in the craft, "It's not always clear as to why a wand chooses a wizard, Mr. Potter but I can give you the basics of what the wood and core of your wand means according to folklore. The Holly wood is a traditional symbol of luck, prosperity and protection from evil. It's been used in celebration rituals throughout history including the Roman festival of Saturnalia, the Pagan Winter Solstice and, of course, Christmas."
"Now the wand that is the brother to yours…well, it is the antithesis of what yours represents. That wand was made from Yew wood, also with a phoenix tail feather. Ironically from the same bird, in fact. Now Yew wood is poisonous. Every part of the tree (aside from the berry flesh) contains alkaloids that are fatal to humans. One interesting property of yew is that it remains poisonous after the tree has died."
"What about the core of…phoenix feather, you said?"
"The symbolism of the phoenix represents continual rebirth and renewal. It is often associated with the Sun; a phoenix obtains new life by arising from the ashes of its predecessor. According to some sources, the phoenix dies in a show of flames and combustion, although there are other sources that claim that the legendary bird dies and simply decomposes before being born again."
Harry pondered what Ollivander had described, "So you're saying that our two wands represent 'Life' (holding up his wand) and 'Death' (referencing the other wand.)
Ollivander nodded sagely, "Indeed, Mr. Potter."
The last stop on Harry magical shopping journey was at the bookstore, Flourish and Blott's. When he entered, a large happy smile grew on his face, as he took in the many shelves in wondrous delight. 'The possibilities are endless.' He took his time as he wandered up and down the stacks. There were books on such wide-ranging topics and also sizes. There were tiny, nearly postage stamp sized books that you'd probably need a microscope to read, all the way up to the massive books that would probably need a crane to lift.
He picked up the pre-assembled stack of books for the first year students and dropped into his basket. As he continued his journey into literary heaven, he paused at the sight of a collection of children's books that had his name written on them.
'The True Life Adventures of Harry Potter? What is this crap?' he thought as he scrunched up his face. He shrugged it off, determined to deal with it some other time.
After finishing up in the bookstore and heading back to the pub, Hagrid handed Harry his ticket for the platform and train.
"Make sure that you hang on to that, Harry. It's very important. Now…there was something else I was supposed to tell you…"
"How do I get onto the platform?" Harry asked as he examined the ticket.
Hagrid snapped his fingers, "Right! That was it. When you get to the area between Platforms 9 and 10, you should see a wall with a section that'll shimmer a bit. The shimmer is only visible to us magicals. What you need to do is walk into that section of the wall. You'll pop out onto Platform 9 ¾ easily."
"What about a medical exam for any magical shots I might need?"
Hagrid waved that away, "Nah, Madam Pomfrey will take care of that. She's the school's medi-witch. So, would you like to stop and have a bit of lunch before I send you home? If I remember right, I promised to tell you more about your past?"
At the Leaky Cauldron…
The two shoppers sat down in the back of the pub and Harry let out a bit of a sigh of relief. Magical shopping was challenging! Tom came over and took their order before shuffling back to the kitchen. Hagrid gazed at Harry for a moment before beginning his explanation.
"Ok, first thing you need to understand is what it was like back in the days before your birth. To put it bluntly, we were at war. Friends were turning on friends and family, you didn't know whom you could trust. Dark days, indeed." He paused to take a drink of water from the carafe on the table. "It was dark days back then. There was a wizard who'd risen from obscurity and began amassing a huge group of followers. They began attacking muggleborns and those they labeled as 'unworthy' to study magic. Anyone who tried to stop him was killed."
They paused briefly as Tom came over to deliver their food.
"Now, your parents joined a secret organization put together by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore so they could fight back against the darkness. Sometime around early 1980, word had it that the evil leader of the Dark forces was targeting your parents. No one knew why but they had to go into hiding."
"What was the Dark leader's name?" Harry interrupted.
Hagrid shuddered, "I'd rather not speak it. It's…well, bad things happen when his name is spoken aloud."
"Can you write it down?" Harry asked.
Hagrid shook his head, "Nah, can't spell it. Anyway, your parents went into hiding and for a time, everything was fine but then one of their friends betrayed you and your parents to…Him."
Harry wanted to blurt out the name 'Peter Pettigrew' but held back. He didn't know if Hagrid was instructed to relay anything back to the headmaster.
"So, on Halloween night, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named found out where you lived because of the betrayer and attacked. No one really knows what happened but something about you destroyed him so badly that he's not been seen since."
Harry looked confused, "That makes him sound like he's still out there, somewhere."
Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders, "Aye, that's what Dumbledore says. Myself, I hope that he'd been dragged to wherever bad souls go when they die."
They ate their lunch quietly in thought. Harry asked Hagrid some general questions about magical life and what a Keeper of Keys and Grounds does. He smiled at the thought of being able to see and be around all those neat magical creatures. "I'd love to see a unicorn, someday."
"Aye, we got them there. They're shy creatures though, Harry. The adults don't trust males and they're difficult to catch."
After they finished lunch, Hagrid took Harry home via the Underground again before vanishing into thin air!