Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Previously: "Here is not the place," Professor McGonagall began, looking at the people all around them, "We will speak in the bank. So please wait just a minute more." With that she ushered open the doors to Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

~o0O0o~

Once they had entered the bank Harry began to look expectantly at the professor. Having noticed the looks, McGonagall sighed. "As soon as we have finished our business here Mr. Potter," she began, "It would not do well to address goblins without giving them your full attention."

Placated, Harry turned his attention back to the bank as they walked towards the end of a rather large and empty entrance hall. Hermione, however, was now quite curious. "Goblins?" she questioned.

"Indeed," came the professor's reply, "All of Magical Britain's money is handled by the goblin race."

"Why's that Professor?" asked Harry, his own interest piqued.

"It was a way to appease them," began the older witch, "I could explain more but as you are not yet acquainted with the magical world, I fear it would do little to no good. You would be left with more questions than answers." She smiled at the two, "Although, I promise that once we leave Gringotts we will go to buy your school books. Any questions you have about Human/Goblin Relations can be answered in the book, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot."

Right as she finished this sentence they arrived at the opposite end of the hall, coming up to a rather large pair of silver doors. Upon closer inspection, Harry found that there was an inscription on the doors. Apparently, Hermione also noticed as she began reading aloud:

"Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there."

"If this is how they protect someone else's money," began Harry, "then I'd say it's a good thing they guard it." It baffled the boy slightly, he could hardly imagine guarding his own things that fervently, yet here they, quite obviously, went to extreme measures to guard money that wasn't even theirs. 'Of course,' Harry thought to himself, 'I've never really had anything worth protecting.'

Professor McGonagall smiled down at the two prospective students and then, with a wave of her wand, beckoned the doors to open.

~o0O0o~

Things were going fairly well for Vernon Dursley, all things considered. Sure, he'd had one of their lot in his house, but she'd left nearly as quickly as she'd came. Then he'd been forced to make a deal with his freak of a nephew. But this also meant that he wouldn't have to deal with his freakishness, even when the boy wasn't in school. Vernon may not like the boy, he loathed him in fact, but he knew the boy would keep his word.

He heard his car pull up in the driveway and his thoughts came to an abrupt end, as he realized something. He had no idea how to tell his wife what he'd done. She would enter in here and expect him to have punished her sister's spawn.

He was quickly out of time to think as the door burst open. His son stood in the doorway, arms bulging with candy. "Wher's Hawy?" he asked, through mouthfuls of sweets, "Ah wana show him aww dis candy he cant hav!" Vernon's little man then ran off through the house to find the boy.

Petunia walked in the doorway shortly after, "So how was it," she asked as she shut the door.

Vernon, playing dumb, asked, "How was what, Pet?"

Fooled by her husband's act, Petunia Dursley clarified, "When that teacher," she spat the word out as though it tasted of sour milk, "came to collect the boy. How did you get her to leave?"

Vernon was about to answer when Dudley came in from the kitchen, having deposited his candy somewhere, and opened the cupboard under the stairs. Huffing the boy turned to his mother, "Mum," he whined, "Harry's nowhere in the house."

Mr. Dursley felt a chill go through his well insulated spine, and he heard his wife speak, "Diddydums, go up to your bedroom. Daddy and I need to talk…" Things did not bode well for Vernon Dursley.

~o0O0o~

As Harry, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall headed back towards the entrance hall, Harry struggled to wrap his head around two things. The first was how weird wizard money worked. The Accounts Manager, Griphook, had explained that wizard money worked around something called Thorton's Monetary Standard. What this meant was that, unlike non-magical money, 'Muggle money,' Harry reminded himself, where one-hundred pence went into a pound, Wizarding money went differently. Twenty-nine knuts in a sickle. Seventeen sickles in a galleon. Though this seemed strange to Harry, he assumed that was because he was raised in a muggle community.

The second thing he was coming to grips with was the fact that he was rich. Sure he couldn't have bought his own castle or anything, but he was rather set for life. To be honest though, he hadn't a clue what to do with all that money. Growing up as he had, he really didn't have any outstanding wants. Harry supposed that he could just buy something if he had a sudden urge to. He looked over to Hermione, who was reading over the short amount of notes she had taken about wizard money. Perhaps he didn't have to spend it exclusively on himself.

As they passed through the silver doors, Harry once again looked expectantly at their chaperone, an while she didn't seem to notice, Hermione certainly did.

"Professor," she began, "I believe you promised Harry an explanation." She looked over to her new friend and smiled.

Minerva stopped short; she'd hoped they would have forgotten. The topic at hand was not one she felt was hers to discuss. One look at Harry though, and she knew she owed it to him. After all, if she didn't trust herself to tell him the story of his parents, then whom could she trust?

Sighing, she waved her hand and conjured three chairs for them. Taking her seat in the larger one, she looked to Harry. "As you've no doubt realized, given the existence of your trust vault, your parents were indeed magical, Mr. Potter." She smiled as she recalled some of the times she'd shared with the Potters. "And very powerful."

Harry looked hopeful, "You knew my parents Professor?"

"Indeed, though not as well as I would've liked," she answered.

This time it was Hermione that had a question, "What do you mean Ma'am?"

Professor McGonagall smiled, "I was their teacher in Hogwarts. Don't look surprised Harry, nearly every wizard in Magical Britain studies at Hogwarts."

Harry smiled, to think that he would be attending the same school as his parents.

"I suppose you'll want to know how it happened then?"

This confused Harry, "How what happened?"

Minerva looked nervous, as though she wasn't comfortable bringing this up, "How they… died Mr. Potter."

Harry, though slightly flinching at the mention of his parents' death, sighed. "I already know how they died Professor."

The Hogwarts professor was surprised at this, "I'm sorry Mr. Potter. When I realized that your relatives hadn't told you about the magical world, I assumed they didn't tell you about how your parents passed."

Confused, Harry looked at his future teacher, "What does the magical world have to do with it?" Harry's voice took on a tone of shame, "They were drunkards, and they crashed their car. They didn't even care enough about my safety not to drive totally drunk…" The more he talked the more he seemed to slouch down in his chair, across from him however, his words were having the opposite effect.

With every word Harry spoke, Minerva sat taller and straighter, her face contorted with fury. She was not angry with the child. No. He simply didn't know any better. But she would be correcting that now, and source of the problem when she returned Harry to Privet Drive.

"Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall began sternly, her voice betraying the anger she felt, "I can assure you that Lily and James Potter did not die in a car crash. They were not drunkards. And they most assuredly did care about your safety."

Harry looked up and met the professor's eyes. She was surprised that he had no tears but she did not swell on that. What she saw in his eyes was fear. He was afraid of her. This did not bode well. Forcing herself to calm down, she reached out to Harry, but stopped as he flinched and looked back down at his feet.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She almost felt as though she were intruding in a private moment, but she knew that Harry didn't need to be alone right now. Then she saw Professor McGonagall try to comfort Harry. When he flinched away, Hermione knew what she could do. She reached out and took one of Harry's hands in her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She wanted him to know that she was here for him.

McGonagall smiled at their silent exchange and, with a much softer voice, said, "Harry, I know for a fact that your parents loved you very much."

"How?" came his quiet reply.

"They gave their lives to protect yours."

Harry's head snapped up, "What do you mean?" he demanded.

Annoyed by his rudeness but understanding the cause of it, Professor McGonagall continued, "On the night of Halloween, in 1981, your parents had already been in hiding for a couple of months. I don't know how, but they had received word that a very powerful dark wizard was out for them."

"But why?" asked Harry. Why his parents? Why did it have to be his family?

"Alas," began Minerva, "I'm afraid I do not have that answer." She sighed, "But that night, he found them. There weren't any witnesses, but from the destruction, we can tell certain things." She stopped and looked at Harry, "Are you sure you want me to continue? It is your right to know, but if you wish to postpone…"

"Please Professor," the Potter boy pleaded as he gave Hermione's hand a squeeze, "I need to know."

Nodding, she told on, "We can only assume that the dark wizard tracked them down to their home in Godric's Hollow. He them blasted down the door and surprised your parents, or your father at any rate. From the damage to the inside of the home, we can guess that he and your father then dueled, but while your father put up more of a fight than most wizards can boast, he was eventually defeated." She looked to Harry, who nodded for her to continue.

Sighing, she did as he wished, "He then made his way up the stairs and into the nursery where you slept. Your mother, though the best witch in her graduating year, did not fight. If I were to guess, she was pleading to the wizard. Begging him to spare you, her son. I need not say what fate befell her." She took a moment to wipe her eye, as she was beginning to tear up, "Then, he moved to the crib. He fired a curse at you Harry, a curse that was meant to kill you, a curse that had killed every other person at the end of that wand. But it didn't kill you. We don't know how, but when the Dark Lord fired his killing curse at you, it bounced back at him."

Looking at Harry once again, she finished the tale, "And that was how you were found. Standing in a crib, surrounded by the bodies of your parents and the wizard that had killed them."

Harry let all of this sink in, they had loved him. They had loved him so much that they had given their lives to save his own. Now, a feeling of great shame washed over him as he realized just how angry he had been at them. After all, before today he had believed them to be drunkards whose poor decisions had made him into an orphan. Now that the anger was gone, he only felt shame towards his own thoughts.

Hermione squeezed his hand again and Harry looked at her. He was glad she was with him, he didn't know how he would have taken this alone. But he did still have one question that needed answering.

"Who was he?" he asked, looking back to the professor.

"I'm sorry?" asked Minerva, as she finished wiping her eyes.

"The wizard that killed them, you never said his name."

A slight blush of embarrassment touched the cheeks of the older woman, "I hadn't even realized. Hardly anyone says the name anymore."

Hermione immediately asked the question on Harry's mind, "Why Professor?"

"Many, myself included, though I loath to admit it, are still scared, Ms. Granger. But you do deserve to know his name," she admitted and took a breath to steady herself. "His name, was Lord Voldemort."

McGonagall then stood up suddenly, "Come now, we've been here much too long." She looked to her young companions, and with a smile, told Harry, "I promise to tell you more stories of your parents as soon as I can, but we must get your school supplies before the day is done."

Harry and Hermione followed the teacher out onto Diagon Alley and though Harry desperately wanted to know more about his parents, he understood that they had precious little time to spare.

~o0O0o~

Their first stop after leaving the bank had been to retrieve their wands. Hermione had gotten hers without much fuss. It was a 10 ¾" wand made of vine wood and a core of a dragon heartstring.

But when the wand crafter had seen Harry, he had gotten a joyful glee in his eye. "Ah! Mr. Potter!" he had exclaimed, startling the poor boy. "I have been waiting many years to give you your first wand."

"Why me sir?" Harry had asked, once his heart had stopped racing of course.

"My dear boy, I eagerly await the children of all my previous customers." Seeing the effect this had on the child, Mr. Ollivander smiled, "Yes, I remember them very well. Your father's wand was exactly eleven inches, made of mahogany and had a core of acromantula silk! In all my days I've only made three wands with acromantula silk and his remains the only one I've sold!"

Now Harry may not have known what an "Acromantula" was, but the point of the statement was not lost on him. This man, Mr. Ollivander, was telling him something special about his father, and though he may not know the significance of it, but he was still grateful.

"Now as for your mother," continued the wandmaker as he began telling Harry about the other half of his parentage.

~o0O0o~

Vernon Dursley was, by no means, a stupid man. He knew that he'd entered a no-win situation when he found out that his nephew had already answered one letter. He knew that, no matter what he did, that freak would find someway to learn that freakishness.

But he just couldn't convince his wife. She was making him out to be the bad guy! Accusing him of choosing them over her! Why he'd never heard of such a thing! Why couldn't he make her realize that, with things this way, at least they wouldn't have to deal with any of the boy's nonsense?

These thoughts and more flitted through Vernon's mind as he attempted to wash dishes. This was the punishment his wife had given him, saying, "If the boy wont be here someone must do his chores. And youll be on the streets before you put my Diddydumpkins to work!"

Vernon wished his nephew would return soon, if only to change the target of his wife's ire.

~o0O0o~

Much of the rest of the trip to Diagon Alley was rather boring. They went to the bookstore called Flourish and Blott's. It was in this store that he discovered Hermione's love for all things books and reading. She had also shown him that he somewhat shared this love, though not to the extremes that Hermione took.

Their last stop had been at a store known as The Magical Menagerie. Every inch of wall was taken up by a cage, many containing single animals, some containing many. Immediately, Harry pulled Hermione off to the owl section, telling her all about the magnificent owl that had taken his letter for him.

When they reached the owls, Harry looked around but, though many of the owls were gorgeous (one snowy white one had caught his eye for a moment), none of them were the owl he wanted.

"Professor?" he questioned as Hermione found her way to some kittens, "You know the owl that brought my letter to you?"

Raising an eyebrow, the professor nodded, "Oberon? Yes, I know him. Why do you ask, Mr. Potter? Were you wishing to purchase him?"

Harry, rather shocked that Professor McGonagall had discovered his intentions without so much as trying, sputtered, "Y-yes," he quickly composed himself, "I would very much like that."

Laughing, the Professor nodded, "You can indeed buy him from Hogwarts Harry. Although, I have to warn you, he costs twenty-five galleons," she cautioned, but Harry did not care and but moments later he was twenty-five gold coins lighter.

After that Harry had tried to convince Hermione to let him buy her a kitten, but she simply would not hear of it. They had playfully argued for several minutes before Harry threw in the towel.

As they left the store, left the Alley, and filed onto the muggle streets of London, Harry was slowly became very sad. After today he had almost forgotten that he had to go back to his relatives' house. He looked at all of the great things he'd bought: his robes, wand, trunk, school books, cauldron set, and the glinting metal cage that would house Oberon once the owl arrived at his house. His uncle may have been willing to make a deal, but he'd bet every galleon in his vault that Aunt Petunia wouldn't agree so easily.

So, after Professor McGonagall called the Knight Bus, Harry and Hermione, one wearing a downtrodden expression, and the other worrying about the first, filed onto the triple-decker bus.

~o0O0o~

The bus's next stop would be Hermione's house. Before she exited the bus she gave Harry a promise. "We will see each other at school," she had stated, determination in her eyes, "If not before that!" Of course he had readily returned the sentiment before being engulfed in a hug. Not knowing how to react, Harry had just stood there awkwardly until the driver of the bus had told them to either exit or to find a broom closet.

Once they had sat back in their seats, Harry turned to his future teacher, "Professor," he questioned, "Why are we dropping Hermione off first? Wouldn't it have made more sense to drop me off first since you picked me up last?"

Minerva laughed at being caught in her planning by a mere ten year old, "I suppose I am not quite as good as Albus when it comes to disguising my intent," she mused, obviously to herself. "You see Harry, I have a few questions for your relatives." Her gaze darkened as anger slightly tinged her expression, "And if I am not satisfied with their answers, there will be hell to pay."

AN: Sorry for the wait guys. I re-wrote this chapter three times. I promise the big DURSLEY! Argument will be next chapter. Please let me know what you think and share any ideas with me. I read all of my reviews and I secretly get really excited when a new one appears.

AAN: Aren't you guys glad I don't do April Fools day pranks?