Chapter III: Home
He was pretty sure the world had just accelerated, or perhaps changed its tilt, or something else that would explain his dizziness. A moment later, he discovered that he, surprisingly, was right; his world had tilted, albeit vertically. Upon closer inspection - blinking really helped against this dizziness, he noticed - he felt a hand on his shoulder, preventing him from falling. He mumbled an apology and stood up straight, feeling the side-effects of teleportation slowl - Wait... Teleportation? Magic is so awesome!
"Did we... Did we just teleport?" He asked hesitantly; in his experience, most people didn't like questions. But the man - Regulus - gave him a kind look.
"We apparated, mister Potter. There is a subtle difference between teleportation and apparition. I won't bore you with the technical details, but if you are interested, apparition is more like throwing yourself at your destination, whereas with teleporting, you simply are at your destination."
"Ah. Thank you sir." Although he didn't really understand. "So this is Dia - ... That alley?" It didn't really look like a magical alley. He had imagined it to look fantastical with magic everywhere in sight, but this was just a common street, with a few ordinary houses and a rather old and shabby pub.
"No, but we are standing in front of the entrance." He looked around, but saw nothing resembling an entrance to a magical area. Of course, with magic being magic, he had no idea what to look for. Regulus, noticing his searching gaze, continued. "This pub, mister Potter; the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles will see an abandoned and broken-down building. We, however, see a... Less broken-down building."
Regulus smiled at him. "Before we go in, mister Potter, I have a question for you; how much do you know about Riddle and your role in his demise?"
"Ah..." Caught off guard, he wondered what to tell him. The truth, he decided. After all, he'd spend at least seven years in the magical world, and probably a lot longer. Especially if his aunt was right about him being some kind of hero, which he privately doubted.
"Well, ehm, Riddle wanted to stop the bigotry against norma - Ehm, muggles?" Regulus nodded at his questioning look. "And he wanted people to be equal and happy and wealthy..." He trailed off. Regulus nodded again. "And, I... I killed him?"
Regulus gave him a sharp look. "Technically, you are correct, mister Potter." He started, ignoring the last statement-cum-question. "And that is why so many people followed him. But his methods... He brutally murdered whole families. He used terrible muggle artefacts to rain down fire, to blow up streets, to destroy everything in his path. He's a madman. He slaughtered hundreds of innocents, he unleashed hordes of depraved monsters upon us, he threatened to reveal us to all muggles, which would have caused many more millions to die... There's no end to his horror."
Regulus took a deep breath, sporting an expression of immense terror and grim determination on his face. Harry, meanwhile, looked a bit nauseous. Noticing that, Regulus continued.
"I'm sorry, it's not really a children's tale, mister Potter. I should have warned you. But it's important that you know these things, especially for you. You defeated him. You saved us all. The British magical world would worship you, if it knew you're alive. Yes, mister Potter," he continued gravely. "The world thinks you died ten years ago, with your parents. Imagine our surprise at discovering you are, in fact, very much alive." He smiled kindly, before adopting a more serious expression. "People will not start worshipping you just yet; only I and a select few others know you're alive, and it's kept secret with utmost care. We'll pretend you're just an ordinary muggleborn - a magical with a muggle mother and father - and nobody will recognise you. I strongly advise you to play along with this; your kind of fame isn't entirely desirable. But when you enter Hogwarts, the people will know, and you should be prepared for that. You're a hero, mister Potter."
"But... I didn't do anything!" His face had progressively grown more troubling, and frankly, a bit horrified. He didn't want to be a hero. He had been the weird one for ten years, at home, at school, everywhere. And now he would be the weird one out again.
"But you did, mister Potter. The most commonly accepted theory is that your parents fought Riddle to a standstill, but that a spell gone wrong caused you all to die. Fiendfyre, perhaps, as the whole neighbourhood burned down. But now that we know you are alive, one has to wonder what truly happened. Many will want to interview you, or even study you - especially that scar looks very interesting... Like a curse scar."
He instinctively let his hair fall over his scar. It had always been such an odd thing, marking the right part of his forehead with a perfect X. A freak scar, as his aunt and uncle would say. Now, those words had gotten a wholly different meaning. A freak scar, indeed.
"Again, when the public will learn of your existence, everyone will want to get to you know. Some will want to befriend you, purely to boast about it. Others will practically worship you. Yet others will try to influence you, for political or ideological goals. And some few... Some few will want to harm you, or even kill you."
He did a double-take. Kill him? Whatever for?
"Mister Potter, it is vital that you understand the severity of this situation. You may have imagined fame as power, or as wealth, or as the freedom to do whatever you please," He certainly had done no such things. "But while fame like yours does grant great power, so too does it create great threats." Regulus paused a short moment, deciding what exactly to tell.
"You may have defeated Riddle, but his followers live on. Even at Hogwarts, you will meet the sons and daughters of them. I'm not saying they will harm you, mister Potter, but you should be aware of their past. After all, everyone will be aware of yours." Such pessimistic sentiments held no place in this conversation though; it might scare off the boy.
"Not to worry though, mister Potter. The protections of Hogwarts are greater than any other; my own uncle is in charge of the security, and believe me, there is no safer place on Earth for you to be." He was tempted to mention how he had lived here, with his relatives the Dursleys, for ten years while everyone thought he had been dead - which obviously was a lot safer - but Regulus continued.
"Speaking about Hogwarts, I do believe this letter is for you." Regulus handed him a huge and ancient-looking letter, made of not-paper. Parchment, he guessed.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Horace E. F. Slughorn
(Master Potioneer, Wadjet-Class Guardian, Overseer of the Council of Ophioneus,
Grand Rod of Asclepius, Hippocratic Award (two), Apollo Medal of Mastery)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Regulus A. Black
Deputy Headmaster
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
UNIFORMS
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all student's clothes should carry name tags and should not contain any anti-transfiguration or anti-transformation enchantments, magical resistance amplifiers, colouring charms, or any other enchantments not explicitly approved by the headmaster. Enchanting clothes before being sorted is strictly forbidden.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
Arithmancy
Mathemagic: The Gate and Key by Roger Bacon
Astronomy
Ad Astra Per Aspera by Anatolios Akrufius
Charms
The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One by Miranda Goshawk
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
Combat Magic & Training
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Culture & Etiquette
Magical Manners & Malicious Mannerisms by Maxim Fopa
Geology & Zoology
The Curious Cradle by Nai Iyaunina
Healing
Anatomical Analyses: An Inside Perspective by Mondino di Seziorena
Herbology
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
History
Compilation of Myth & Legend by Cassia Draconis
Before History by Mides Palatina
Foundations of Magic by Semel Alavanpit
Latin
De Lingua Latina by Victoria Rolands
English-Latin: Via Nova by Nathan Charleson
Muggle Studies
The Other: A Sociocultural Guide by Erik Outo
Potions
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Sports
A Short Summary of Sports and Sportsmanship by Paige Plaisie
Transfiguration
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
OTHER EQUIPMENT
One Ollivander-certified wand (Ollivander's Wand Shop can be found at South Side 382, Diagon Alley, London)
One cauldron (pewter, copper, or brass, standard size two)
One set of phials (glass or crystal)
One telescope (certified as a proper telescope by the Stargazer's Guild, Burlington Summit-Beyond-The-Clouds, London)
One set of brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, one of the following pets (crossbreeds excluded):
Cat (including Grade I and Grade II magical cats)
Owl (will be subject to the Eeylops-Fronsac Treaty of 1884)
Rat
Toad
Please note that all pets should be registered as such at the ministry and that a student could be asked to prove him- or herself being capable of caring for a pet (especially with higher-grade magical pets). Upon enrolling Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and when not on a break, ownership of any and all pets transfers to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry holds no responsibility over any pets and retains the right to punish students whose pets disrupt the school, end up as accidental potion ingredients, or any other clauses outlined in the Ever-Updating Book on Treatises, Rulings, Regulations, and Other Laws Pertaining Hogwarts.
Parents are cordially reminded that first years are not allowed to bring their own broomstick per the Reasonable Restrictions for Safety and Study.
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
That was a lot to take in. The subjects, for one, were so fantastical that Harry needed a few moments to let it sink in. Charms, transfiguration, potions... But also combat magic? That sounded exciting! And Latin, which sounded hard and boring. Surely they would be taught in English, not in Latin? But he suspected the title of the Astronomy book was Latin. Did that mean Astronomy would be taught in Latin? He hoped not.
He couldn't dwell much on the issue though, as he read about wands and cauldrons and, ew, rats and toads. For a short moment, he wondered if all witches would have warts on their noses, but Regulus, seeing that he was done reading, motioned for him to follow. Regulus strode into the pub, and, wondering why people would bring a broomstick to school, he awkwardly folded the letter, put it in his pocket, and followed Regulus.
The pub was weird, to say the least. Medieval, definitely, looking at the walls and furniture. Light grey stone walls with cracks here and there surrounded them, sometimes smooth, sometimes made of grey or red-tinted bricks. A few walls were almost completely covered by portraits of... Things. Moving things. Men and women moved around, sometimes even abandoning the picture altogether! Curious objects and strange devices sparkled, hummed, or preformed other interesting actions. Dark brown wooden tables of varying sizes were scattered around, with a variety of different chairs accompanying them. Half a dozen or so people were present, creating a welcoming noise.
"Ah, master Regulus, what can I do for you?" A voice suddenly piped up next to them. Harry, mesmerised by all the moving pictures of imposing wizards and alien devices, was jolted out of his stupor. Next to Regulus, a small and balding old man had appeared. He reminded him a bit of Bilbo Baggins.
"Nothing Tom, I'm just passing through here, introducing a new muggleborn to our world." Replied Regulus, grasping Harry's shoulder.
"I see. Good luck then, master Regulus. Young master, be most welcome in this new world. Feel free to stop by later; I am always at your service." Tom skidded off again, while Regulus pushed Harry towards an exit, leading to a courtyard.
"Very interesting." Sneered a man. "But the Potter fortune is even more interesting." The gathered Blacks didn't even blink, so used were they to his attitude - although Sirius did scowl at him. He was Cygnus Pollux Black, also known as Cygnus Black the Third, or, to his unending annoyance, Moody. Indeed, Cygnus was moody. As well as sarcastic, cynical, and more often than not, utterly incapable of empathy.
He had about enough of the sob story about Sirius and the Potters that had been going on for the last thirty or so minutes. Wild speculation about Riddle's followers assassinating the boy, combined with hysterics about the boy having lived in the muggle world with nobody knowing. Nothing useful was discussed, such as the political ramifications or the vast Potter fortune. As such, he had decided to take charge of this conversation at last.
"Yes, the Potter fortune." He stated again, stressing the last two words, annoyed at the lack of response. "Inherited by Sirius, the boy's godfather, under the presumption that the whole line had died out. We can probably win a court case if the boy decides to demand his fortune back, but -" He paused a second to glare at Pollux, who had muttered 'good'. Of course Pollux would want to keep the whole fortune, bloody kleptocrat that he was.
"But, that would be stupid." He smirked at Pollux. "We'd drive the boy away from us right into the hands of Riddle. He's been raised by muggles, head full of nonsense about equality without understanding the first thing about our culture, our traditions, and everything that 'equality' would entail." Foreseeing the inevitable arguments Pollux would bring up, he added a last sentence to his monologue; he was a very direct and to-the-point, after all.
"Yes, Riddle killed his parents, no, I'm not willing to take the risk." Cassiopeia sagely nodded, as he knew she would.
"The stars agree." She uttered in a hoarse voice. Nonsensical drivel, he would have said in the past, but he had developed a certain respect for Cassiopeia and her... Talents regarding astronomy and divination.
"We don't need the money anyway." Orion berated Pollux, who had already opened his mouth to protest. "But a political alliance with House Potter... Its sudden re-emergence has massive political ramifications. Wizengamot seats. Uncollected debts. Old vows and oaths. And young mister Potter is - or will be, very soon - a celebrity. His influence and political capital will be immense; the masses will follow him through thick and thin, if he so desires. With him backing us, those bigots solely dedicated to worshipping Malfoy are done for."
"Ah, so, we bribe the lad? Which child of eleven doesn't want unlimited riches?" Commented Pollux, already thinking of the massive amounts of profit he'd make if his businesses were backed by Potter.
"No." Came Cygnus' biting snarl.
"No!" Came Sirius' angry shout.
"No." Came Orion's calm response, who continued to explain. "We offer him his fortune, yes, but it stays under our control. He'll be tied to us, dependent upon us. We won't exploit him; we'll - well, we'll be his family!" Orion suddenly had a rather exciting idea. "We'll send Sirius to Hogwarts, say, you like Quidditch, we can fire Rolanda - Hooch - and hire you!"
"Well -" Started Sirius, apparently unsure about the proposal.
"Every young man likes sports, as did James Potter, I recall, so young mister Potter will, in all likeliness, like it as well. This is the perfect opportunity for you two to grow closer! Mister Potter will want to know everything about his parents, and he'll be absolutely delighted to find out he has a magical godfather. You - and us - will be his first, true family." It was very rare indeed to see Orion this excited.
"Don't forget the muggles." Andromeda reminded them, but slightly scoffed as she did so. Ever since finding out Harry Potter was very much alive, the Blacks had delved into his life, and what they had found out wasn't pretty. He wasn't a spoiled brat, nor a worshipped prince - in fact, he was altogether unaware of his magical ancestry, and while not abused, it was clear his muggle relatives merely tolerated him, instead of accepting or - perish the thought - liked him.
This was probably a good thing, because a spoiled, naive, and idealistic Harry Potter could very well end up as a peaceful alternative to Riddle, employing his fame to utterly destroy traditional magical society. On the other hand, having experienced inequality first-hand, he could seek to prevent this from happening to others. It was pure guesswork, and really, he was eleven years old; there was time enough to shape him into a proper wizard. But House Black had fallen so far since a decade ago, they had to capitalise on this unprecedented gift.
Narcissa chuckled lightly at Andromeda's comment. Marius, the squib lawyer who had ever so grudgingly been accepted back into the family some years ago, looked a bit offended. Cygnus and Pollux both brought up the Potter fortune again at the same time, glaring slightly at each other as they did, and Orion motioned to Sirius that they'd discuss things later.
"So, it's simply." Started the gruff voice of Cygnus. "The Potter boy is with Regulus now, in Diagon Alley. They will go to Gringotts, where Regulus will withdraw the necessary money for this shopping trip. Undoubtedly, the boy will ask if he has money himself. Regulus will explain about the inheritance and mention Sirius, if he hasn't done so already. The boy will want to meet Sirius, and will probably want his money back. So, guess which newly appointed Sports teacher will conveniently be enjoying Fortescue's ice cream as the pair walk by? The boy will surely agree with our most generous offer of allowing him to use the Black vaults." He rasped his throat.
"Now, someone," He pointedly ignored Pollux and stared at Orion. "Will have to arrange the necessary paperwork and the like."
"But -" Pollux spoke up.
"There is no way you are going to monitor the boy's withdrawals and deposits - and undoubtedly take some money for your own private use." Pollux sputtered in reply, but the discussion was settled. As Orion departed, motioning Sirius to follow him, others stood up and began to leave as well.
It had been a useful meeting, perhaps heralding the dawn of a new era. Heralding the return of political acumen, the reacquisition of lost influence, and the reacquiring of former power. They would wrangle society away from that swine Malfoy and his little henchmen, and all because of young mister Potter. A slightly humbled Narcissa Black walked out of the door. Similar, but far less melodramatic thoughts, ran through Cygnus' head too. A rather scary head to behold, sporting a grin of anticipation. The future looked a lot brighter than it did mere weeks ago.
So this was Diagon Alley. A huge street, with no end in sight, chock full of all kinds of people, decorated by all kinds of fantastical magic and the weirdest buildings he had ever seen. This was better than anything he had expected or imagined, better than any theme park or fantasy movie he had ever seen. Really, words nor pictures did it justice. Diagon Alley, wow!
He could have spent hours just watching all the magic so casually displayed, watching all the people happily doing their shopping - or not so happily, in some rare cases, or in fact, not people at all, in even rarer cases - but after about half a minute, Regulus gently pushed him forward.
The huge street rolled downwards, and quickly, he was immersed into the crowd, losing all sense of direction. Regulus kept a hand firmly on his shoulder, to prevent him getting lost. He didn't even think of asking where they were going; there was just too much to see, and he only had two eyes. Suddenly, they heard an angry roar through the crowd, originating from a store with cauldrons, phials, and a plethora of indescribable tools.
"GET OUT OF MY STORE!" A man almost literally kicked two red-haired boys out of what appeared to be his store.
"But sir,"
"We only want a jo -"
"Must I call the aurors, WEASLEYS?" The last word was shouted out loud, as if it was a terrible curse word, or perhaps a call for help. Probably both. The reaction was immediate; people rushed over to help the irate man - or rushed away, appearing to be fleeing for their lives. And some not only appearing to, at that.
"We're sorry!" One of the boys screamed in blind panic, before being hit by one of the half dozen spells lighting up the air. The crowd had reacted quite efficiently. In a second, both boys - twins, apparently - lay stone cold on the street. A few moments later, three men in auburn yellow cloaks appeared. Apparated, Harry thought. They shouted something about a Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and promptly took the two boys with them. Mere moments later, everything was back to normal and nobody'd suspect anything had happened.
"What was that?" Harry asked in awe.
"Weasleys." Spat Regulus, pocketing his wand. "Perhaps the best known supporters of Riddle. They're a huge family of redheads, dirt poor and obsessed with muggles. The parents are in Azkaban - prison - but the seven children are living with various carefully selected families, so that they may be reformed into proper purebloods. Yes, they're purebloods, if you'd believe that - purebloods are those whose parents and grandparents are magical." He was a bit shocked, listening to Regulus' rant. So these red haired people were his enemies? They didn't seem dangerous...
"Come, we're nearly there." Regulus said a bit harsher than usual, perhaps upset at the two Weasleys. He decided to drop the matter; Regulus - and the whole crowd - would protect him. Then he remembered nobody knew he was Harry Potter, and he stopped worrying.
In the distance, a towering building made of white marble loomed over the surrounding buildings. Engraved on the balcony were the words 'GRINGOTTS BANK'. His mind froze. How could he have been so stupid? They were on a shopping trip, they were going to buy all kinds of things for Hogwarts - but buying things required money, money he didn't have.
"Ehm, sir... I don't have any money..." He mumbled. Regulus didn't respond, but he saw Regulus' cheeks turn into something resembling a slight smile. A few seconds later, having found a quiet alcove, Regulus turned around.
"Mister Potter, you have nothing to worry about." Regulus said with a kind smile. "Hogwarts has a trust fund precisely for people who don't have the money to pay for their education, although using this fund is only allowed as long as one's grades are sufficiently high. Others may borrow from Gringotts; the bank you undoubtedly just saw." So he didn't have to worry about money, that's good. He sighed in relief, but Regulus wasn't done yet.
"But you, mister Potter, are the heir of House Potter. Your father, as an Auror, and your paternal grandfather, as the head of the Auror Office, have amassed quite the fortune. Then there's the dowry of your paternal grandmother, who was a Black, and we Blacks are one of the wealthiest families in Britain. Lastly, there are the donations, gifts, and rewards, sent by admirers throughout all of Britain, to thank you for defeating Riddle."
"But they thought I was dead?" He asked in confusion, forgetting to ask what an 'Auror' is. Why would people send something if there was nobody to receive it?
"Yes. And therein lays the problem." Regulus misinterpreted his question and adopted a graver tone. "We thought all of House Potter had died. You, your family, everyone. Per your father's will, every possession of House Potter transferred to his best friend; your godfather, who is, as I mentioned before, my brother."
Technically, that wasn't entirely true, but since every other person named in James' will had been dead (Harry, for example), missing (Pettigrew), or turned traitor (Lupin), Sirius was the only one with any claim to the Potter fortune. It had been a rather exciting and drawn-out court case, but the Blacks - that is, Sirius - had won, and had thereby gained control of all monetary and physical possessions of House Potter, as well as any other possessions.
"As such, we have granted you access to our own vaults, considering part of the money and artefacts residing there should be yours. We are busy trying to find out what exactly is yours, and what isn't, so that we may put it back in one of the Potter vaults."
A lie; tracking down these things was as trivial as counting to three, especially for goblins. He hoped the boy would forget about it, so that they could keep monitoring his transactions. In fact, he was pretty sure the boy wouldn't remember nor care about it very soon; not after seeing the huge amassment of wealth stored into the Black vault. 'Free' access to that would trump any desire for a private vault.
"So, mister Potter," He finished with a smile. "There is absolutely nothing for you to worry about; you can buy everything you wish. In fact, you are one of the richest persons in this world."
Gringotts was huge, beautiful, and scary, Harry concluded. After climbing a few stairs, the life was scared out of him as he came face-to-face with what he now knew was a goblin. He almost ran through the bronze doors in front of him, with a bemused Regulus following him. Regulus caught up to him as he paused to read the text engraved on the next set of doors, silver ones this time:
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.
"It's a challenge." Regulus said knowingly. "The goblins are nothing if not thorough and persistent; nobody can steal anything here, but should someone succeed, he should expect a very short and very exciting life. Goblins are a warrior race at heart, which is why they've been put in charge of our banking system; what better way to use their ferocity than by letting them make us all - and themselves - filthy rich, ripping apart any thief or opponent they can find? The Goblin Wars that happened in the past have more than convinced us of the need for amicable relations between our races."
Harry was unsure if he liked going into a building controlled by such a hostile race of non-humans, but he was left little choice as Regulus opened the silver doors. They ended up in an absolutely massive and breathtakingly beautiful room. Harry spent a moment trying to find a golden set of doors - after all, after bronze and silver comes gold - but quickly gave up, in favour of admiring the room.
It was huge, cloaked in shadows, with candles casting pale orange light throughout the complex. The largest chandeliers Harry had ever seen - admittedly, that didn't mean much - more and more resembled glowing balls of bright orange and gold, the longer he kept looking at one. Magic. But these light sources wouldn't have helped much, if not for two huge, oval shaped windows, that appeared to let in the sunlight - except for the fact that they were brightly white and quite opaque. None the less, rays of bright and white light illuminated the room. They allowed one to see the walls, full of intricately carved patterns - runes? - and expertly crafted golden decorations.
Lined in long rows across the room stood various desks, where perhaps two dozen goblins per desk busied themselves with scribbling on a plethora of documents. Regulus was already busily discussing something with a goblin at one of the desks, when Harry hurried over to him, abandoning his previous position in the middle of the doorway.
"Ah, mister Potter, I was just telling Rogbok here that you're authorised to use the Black vaults." Said Regulus, drawing Harry into the conversation.
"Quite. We have the papers, including an extra key. Sign here." Rogbok spoke in a bored voice and indicated an empty space on one of the few pieces of parchment lying around.
"Put your thumb on it, mister Potter." Said Regulus, noticing Harry's confusion. Harry did so, and felt a weird, warm, and tingling sensation. When the goblin signalled for Harry to remove his thumb, he saw the words 'Harry James Potter' on the parchment, neatly written in blood-red ink. Or...
"Is that my... Blood?" He asked, a bit horrified.
"Yes. Here is your key. Same as before." Rogbok remained exceedingly bored as he pointed at a prism. Harry gingerly put his thumb against it, watching as the prism turned bright red, before melting away after a few seconds, leaving only a key behind.
"We will go to our vault now." Regulus told Rogbok while patting Harry on his shoulder.
"Of course. Cutaxe!" The last word was spoken into some kind of crystal, embedded in the desk. Moments later, another goblin marched in sight. "The Black vault; 536." Rogbok said, before pointedly ignoring everyone.
"Come." Spoke Cutaxe, marching off to a dark, iron gate. It automatically opened itself, but didn't seem to serve much purpose; only a deep and dark void lay behind it. Harry and Regulus stopped just past the gate, while Cutaxe shuffled towards the very edge of the ledge they were standing on. After mere moments, however, a railroad and some kind of crossover between a mine cart and a scooter shot up from the void, stopping just in front of the ledge. Cutaxe took place at the centre seat, while Regulus and Harry sat down in the two adjacent seats.
"Hold on tight and keep any limbs inboard; the dragons always get feisty when an arm falls down." With a nasty smirk, Cutaxe jammed a crystal - or perhaps a lantern - into the cart. An instant later, the world had moved. It took a second for Harry to realise that the cart was actually moving at... Suffice to say, a very high speed. Along a tiny railroad with all kinds of twists and turns, with only magic preventing the cart from falling into the endless nothingness below. The steering wheel was left untouched by Cutaxe, who didn't appear to be doing anything besides looking bored. It seemed pretty unsafe - or in other words, very dangerous. It was totally awesome!
All to soon, to Harry's liking, they had to leave this magical roller-coaster, in favour of one of the many caves, ledges, and stealthily hidden pathways far underneath Gringotts. Regulus mumbled something about paranoia, and Cutaxe suddenly looked like a child in a candy store.
"You will lead the way." Regulus told Cutaxe, who frowned before pulling a peculiar object out of a bag. It could be anything from a symmetrical trophy to an hourglass to weird looking weights. Harry didn't feel particularly safe here though, and decided not to ask what the object was. As such, the eerie silence was only disturbed by three pair of feet following the crooked pathway, as well as some rather frightening roars every few seconds.
"Dragons." Whispered Regulus. "The Black vault is very highly guarded; we're a paranoid bunch." Dragons? Wow! Magic became more awesome with each passing second!
After passing through three shimmering barriers with unknown purposes, navigating through a labyrinth full of disappearing pathways, intangible floors, and illusionary walls, and coming across quite a few traps, such as a pit of smouldering lava and a chamber that fell apart to reveal floating, green, heat-seeking fireballs, they arrived in a large, dark, circular room.
A moment later, Harry was genuinely scared. A fierce roar shattered the silence and drowned out all other sound, but mere moments later, this roar turned into a howl of pain as Cutaxe frantically waved around the weird object. An object that produced the deafening sound of thousands upon thousands of pickaxes cutting away valuable gems, hammers smashing against stone walls, and swords slashing through the bodies of many a warrior. Harry screamed, unprepared for this assault on his ears, but Regulus quickly cast a spell upon the both of them that prevented them from hearing anything. Cutaxe flashed a nasty grin.
Onwards they trekked, past the dragon, clearly visible now. Clearly mad, too; smashing its head against the floor and crying out as if being tortured. Ah... That was what the goblin's device was doing... It was torturing the dragon, somehow! Harry felt sick, all of sudden, and refused to look at anything but his shoes, trusting Regulus' hand on his shoulder to guide him.
Soon, however, Regulus nudged him to look up as he lifted the spells; they could hear again. They were safely past the dragon, apparently had walked past two trolls - Regulus told him - and were now in front of the Black vault. Cutaxe took the two keys - Harry's duplicate and Regulus' original - and stroke the vault door with his finger before somehow inserting the keys into the door, even though Harry saw no obvious keyhole. Nothing happened, however.
"Special security measure; there is no indication whether the key works or not. One can walk through the door, but if the key fails to work, one would be trapped inside and eventually starve to death." Explained Regulus, as he walked through the door. Harry suddenly realised the magical world - or the goblin world, at least - was cruel, bloodthirsty, nasty, evil, and a whole slew of other bad words. He followed Regulus, though.
And then he blinked. Whereas he had come from a dark place, where the black had only been accented by shadows of a slightly different shade, he was now in a place where glittering beams of gold were interspersed by bright reds, yellows, greens, blues, and everything inbetween. Wealth unimaginable lay in front of him. Hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions of bronze, silver, and golden coins. Piles full of all kinds of gemstones, and not ordinary ones either; even if the magic wasn't clearly visible, the size of some of them was a dead giveaway to their magical origins. Then there were a plethora of strange artefacts of power and ancient tomes of wisdom. The vault was huge; the Blacks were obviously a large and very wealthy family.
"Put your hand on this gemstone, mister Potter." Regulus pointed at a marble pillar next to the vault's entrance, with a blood red crystal embedded in it. Again, Harry felt the warm and tingly feeling as he put his hand on the crystal. He recognised it was withdrawing blood from his body, probably to identify himself. The feeling ceased after the crystal flashed white, and he removed his hand.
"The vault will now recognise you, and will allow you to use it without needing to go down here all the time." Regulus told him. Ah, that made sense; who'd spend half an hour trying to access a vault every time he or she'd want to buy something.
"Now, the golden coins you see are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze one Knuts. 29 Knuts are 1 Sickle, while 17 Sickles are 1 Galleon. A Galleon is about 100 Pounds, making a Sickle about 5 to 6 Pounds and a Knut 20 Pence."
He watched as Regulus grabbed about two dozen Sickles, which seemed rather excessive to him, given what he had just been told. Judging by the amount of golden coins, the Blacks were very rich anyway; they could obviously afford to spend a lot of money on school supplies.
"The next time you need money, mister Potter, you can ask a teller to retrieve the money for you." Regulus said as he walked back out of the vault, Harry trailing behind him. Back through the door they went, past the trolls - they stank and were ugly, but seemed perfect for the role of 'dumb brute guard' - past the dragon, past the trap filled labyrinth, and finally upwards with the mine cart.
They were back outside, underneath the blue sky, taking in the warmth of the yellow sun. He wasn't sure whether he liked Gringotts and its inhabitants. Yes, it was cool, all the traps and the mine cart roller-coaster and the dragon, as if he was on the set of an awesome fantasy movie... But it was a twisted, dark kind of cool. Not designed for coolness, but for catching - and brutally murdering - thieves. Regulus had been right; the goblins seemed like a rather bloodthirsty race.
Really, did everything revolve around killing people here? First Riddle, and now something as normal as a bank turned out to be a glorified slaughterhouse. However, he supposed it was just another facet of this exciting magical world; after all, with magic, things that would normally be quite dangerous could easily be healed, he guessed. Remarkable really; he hadn't even been here for an hour, and already he felt at home. Of course, he still stared in wide-eyed wonder at all the stores and people - and everything else - but he felt a sense of belonging. Soon, he would be able to do magic as well. For once, he could hardly wait going to school.
School. Hogwarts. To his understanding, most magic involved a wand. Sticks made of various types of wood with a varying length, containing a varying 'core' - whatever a core was. Wands could look old and ugly, as if they were just a twig picked up from the street, but they could also be intricately designed, resembling a miniature version of powerful looking staffs. However they looked, a wand lay at the basis of any magical education, and indeed, a magical's power. Take away the wand of any random wizard or witch, and chances are he or she could do nothing but run away.
Of course, this wasn't entirely true, for wands weren't prevalent throughout the whole world, as Regulus had told him. Regulus seemed to know quite a bit of history, talking about how Romans had introduced wands to the world, but how other forms of magic - runes, staffs, sceptres - continued to be used in other parts of the world.
Whatever the case, Hogwarts used wands, and as such, they were walking towards a wand shop owned by someone called Ollivander. Fittingly, the first destination of their shopping trip. Soon, he would have a wand. Soon, he would be a true wizard.
"- No, that isn't due for another decade or so I daresay. ... Yes I am quite sure, I shall manage. ... Your caring about my well-being is most unbecoming of you, my old friend, is something amiss I should know of? ... Oh, yes, understandable indeed, I do lose track of the time these days, as is expected. ... Yes, I do tend to ramble - part of the personality of course; I do have an image to keep up - but still, still. ... Ah, yes, yes, well, I shall keep you informed, and - oh, I must go now, customers have arrived it seems - do give Petra my regards."
That is what someone with unnaturally well-developed hearing could have heard, had he or she been near Ollivander's Wand Shop. A most unnatural building - but then again, what is 'natural' or 'normal' when magicals are involved? The building looked broken, as if it would collapse any moment. Like a small house, put on top of another small house, both patched up countless times. A decaying rectangle of wood and concrete. Inside, it didn't look much different; dark, gloomy, dusty, and the residence of quite some spiders, rats, and flies. Cobwebs decorated the broken walls and ceiling. It was all part of the experience though; what eleven year old didn't enjoy a rotting building that would be perfect for use as a haunted manor? A creepy old man - Ollivander - handing them their very first wand was just, for lack of a better word, awesome!
Normally, Ollivander would be creeping in the shadows, to scare the unsuspecting young children entering his domain. This time, he had been talking through the floo. Still, the green floo-fire fit in well with the haunted manor theme. Harry Potter liked it, at least.
"Mister Potter! My, we all presumed you were no longer amongst the living! And look at you now! I daresay you are no Inferi, or my sight has sharply declined! So come, come forward, let me measure you, let your magic flow - set foot on the path of wonder!"
Harry cast a very unsure look at Regulus, who simply nodded.
"He's a bit eccentric, yes. But he's a master in wandlore and the world's best wandmaker." Regulus assured Harry. It was only then that Ollivander noticed Regulus.
"And you must be young Regulus Arcturus Black, if I remember correctly. Twelve inches long, made of vine wood with unicorn hair as its core - I trust that it has served you well?"
Ollivander chuckled, as if it was preposterous that the wand hadn't served Regulus well. It had, indeed. But British society had always exaggerated its deeds and accomplishments, and it was highly unlikely that Ollivander really was the single best wandmaker of the whole world, as was claimed. However, it fit the stereotype of an eccentric genius and made sure Ollivander had complete control of the British market for wands. And, to his knowledge, nobody ever complained about an Ollivander's wand, which had to count for something. His attention turned back to Harry, as did Ollivander's, and while still doubtful, Harry hesitantly stepped forward.
"Now, mister Potter, tell me, what is your wand arm."
Harry turned his head around to Regulus, an expression of incomprehension on his face.
"Are you left- or right-handed?" Asked Regulus as an explanation. Comprehensions dawned on Harry's face.
"Right-handed, sir."
"Marvellous!" Ollivander clapped, seemingly excited, but actually causing a tape measure to spontaneously materialise. Apparated, Harry thought, but it was more likely that it had been hidden away in a pile of other trinkets. It began measuring Harry and then flew over to Ollivander, who read the results. Harry stared in awe at the whole scene; he really liked all the magic and theatrics.
"So!" Another clap, and the tape measure flew back to wherever it had come from. "It is time, mister Potter, for a wand to find you! Oh, yes, the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around! The wand that will choose you will make its choice very clear, most probably by imbuing you with feelings of niceness, or perhaps by giving away a show of magic!" Ollivander hobbled away to the back of his store.
He returned with almost a dozen different wands, dropped them all in a messy pile on the floor, and hovered his hand above the pile for a moment before picking one, seemingly at random.
"Here then mister Potter, a fine wand! Not the largest of the bunch, but you're quite scrawny too - and Unicorn Hair would go well with your messy hair, I daresay!" He chuckled, and shoved the wand in Harry's hands, who was unsure whether to be offended or not. "Come on now, give it a wave!"
The fire in the fireplace grew tenfold, nearly setting the whole room alight.
An antique lamp turned on with such bright light that it blinded everyone in the room.
A telescope on the counter was blown away, leaving a lot of white sparks and smoke behind.
Ollivander had fallen over and slowly chuckled, while coughing due to the smoke.
Harry sat dumbfounded and terrified, looking at what he had done.
Regulus stood in the doorway, holding the door half-open as if to flee, observing the scene.
"Yes, very well mister Potter... Suffice to say, this apparently is not the wand for you. Too short, much too short! Such power..." Ollivander trailed of, looking for the pile of wands he had previously assembled, now blasted all over the room. "Mister Potter, try this!" Apparently having found a wand in a dark corner, Ollivander handed it over to Harry.
"But, sir, will -" Harry said with a scared expression.
"No, you have nothing to worry about, mister Potter! It's perfectly fine, no harm done - it's expected! Part of the fun!" Ollivander winked at Harry while extinguishing a small fire that had started to spread from the fireplace. Harry, still scared, gave another wave.
This time, a streak of fire materialised in the air, going wherever Harry directed it with his wand. He quickly threw the wand away, making the fire home in on the wand, and causing a massive explosion when the two collided. The explosion and the resulting fireball did no damage though, which was just as well, otherwise the store might have collapsed. Ollivander hurried over to collect the wand and put it at the counter.
"This seems to be about the right length, mister Potter - but it needs a bit of fine-tuning, oh yes! I wonder, all this fire... Mayhap a Phoenix Feather core would serve you better?"
However, while Harry caused less and less damage - he actually began to enjoy it, instead of fearing for his life - after having tried almost twenty wands, he still hadn't found the right one.
"I wonder... Mister Potter, these common wands have proven to be less than satisfactory. But, I do have a few special wands, all with their own special story. Some, I have collected from great wizards and witches, others were donated to me by grandmasters, and yet others were crafted with extraordinary materials. They are rather valuable - prized artefacts - and so..."
Ollivander waved around and mumbled unrecognisable words. After a few moments, a hidden storage room appeared at the back of the store.
"Here, mister Potter. The Obsidian Rod, forged in the fires of a volcano by a dark lady in Italy. She plundered Europe and North America in search of riches, before her hideout inside the Vesuvius was found and destroyed. She died then and there - but that's a story for another time, I say. Come on now!"
The room became pitch black for a few seconds. When the three could see again, the fire in the fireplace was gone, replaced by a cloud of ash that Ollivander promptly dispelled.
"No, not quite. Then maybe..." He grabbed another wand. "Mhm, I forgot I had this one. Brandtrae, the wand of a medieval Danish warlock - and one of the most accomplished dragon hunters. Very temperamental, but that is what you get when you impale dragons with your own wand." Ollivander scoffed and shook his head, disapproving and not comprehending how anyone could treat a wand in such a way. Clearly displeased, he handed the wand over to Harry.
The moment the wand touched Harry's hand, it began shaking uncontrollably, blasting streams of fire all over the store at random. Ollivander snatched the wand out of Harry's hands and threw it away.
"I daresay not." He said harshly. "Fiendish thing. Never trust anyo -" He suddenly paused. "Say, mister Potter, I do believe I have just the right wand for you. Phoenix feather, eleven inch, and made of holly - see, I was looking for something to go with your temper -" Harry looked offended, but Ollivander took no notice. "- but what if you need something to counter your temper? I daresay holly would work well. And then, there is of course the fact - ..." Ollivander looked unsure, and instead, just handed over the wand to Harry.
It immediately felt good. Warm - perhaps even hot - but a good kind of warmth. Harry found himself smiling, and instinctively waved the wand around, as if the wand was telling him what to do. A shower of golden and silver sparkles erupted from the wand. From his wand. Ollivander clapped, Regulus was clearly pleased that Harry was finally done, and Harry himself enjoyed the most blissful feeling he had ever felt.
Regulus had to ask however: "What fact, sir?"
"Ah!" Ollivander struck a dramatic pose. "Mister Potter's wand contains a phoenix feather, but not just a phoenix feather, oh no. This particular phoenix has been sighted with Riddle, long ago. In fact, Riddle's wand is the brother of mister Potter's wand; both containing a feather of the same phoenix, both sharing the same core with one another." He almost whispered the last few words.
That certainly darkened the mood. The feeling of glorious euphoria suddenly abandoning him, Harry looked at Regulus for guidance. What did this mean? Regulus, however, thinned his lips and slapped some money on the counter, before turning around and leaving the store.
Ollivander smirked.
Next up were robes and other types of clothing. As the last member of House Potter, as the defeater of Riddle, as a very wealthy and very famous individual, and as an associate of House Black, he should dress appropriately, or so Regulus had told him. Of course, he had to buy school robes - black, so that they could be charmed into the appropriate house's colour - but Regulus strongly advised - if not ordered - him to buy a whole wardrobe and then some.
Normally, Regulus would've advised him to go to Twillfitt & Tattings, which catered more to the pureblood crowd. Of course, the Blacks had their own private tailor and all, but for Harry, it would do. However, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions didn't lie, and while he did need - according to Regulus - expensive dress robes best purchased from Twillfitt & Tattings, he also needed a whole lot of other clothes including school robes. As such, they had gone to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
On the way, Regulus had briefed him about various kinds of clothing, colours, symbolism, etiquette, and many other things he, unfortunately, had already forgotten. Magical society didn't have much in the way of universities or another kind of tertiary education, apparently. Actually, magical society technically didn't even have secondary education, trusting purebloods to homeschool their children before Hogwarts.
Instead, after graduating - or even before - one would generally undergo a tutorship or an apprenticeship. Suddenly, the coloured ribbons he saw on quite a few people's clothes had made sense; they denoted apprenticeships. Orange and gold for rune masters - the gold indicating Gringotts employed them - sky blue with a darker blue triangle pointing up for ward erectors, and so on.
Not that he needed to worry about that for quite some time; he was only eleven years old after all. None the less, he enjoyed these tidbits of information. He now also knew most of his robes - including his Hogwarts robes, which was a recent change supported by both the Blacks and Malfoy, whoever that was - would need the Potter crest on it.
The Potter crest was half brown and half dark red, separated by a diagonal, silver line with the text 'NOVISSIMA AVTEM INIMICA DESTRVETVR MORS'; 'the last enemy to be destroyed is death'. There was a bronze 'P' on the lower, brown half, while the upper, red part contained a Welsh dragon. Apparently, the Potters had originated from Wales, as - how surprising - potters. According to Regulus, the brown represented precisely that - or clay, or earth - but he had no idea what the red represented. Perhaps the dawn.
Regulus had left to buy his more mundane supplies - mostly books - after asking him a few questions, such as what kind of cauldron he wanted. Pewter was cheap but brittle and would get filthy very quickly, while brass was solid and stable, fit for beginners, and copper required more finesse and talent, but in the right hands, could brew perfect potions. In other words, as Regulus had told him, pewter is for the poor, brass for the middle-class and muggleborns, and copper for the proper purebloods.
Regulus advised him to get both brass and copper though, on the off chance that he needed the help a brass cauldron offered. Unlikely, considering that his mother, apparently, had been a natural at potions, but he had the funds to spare anyway. Of course, he heeded Regulus' advice, planning on asking more about his parents when Regulus came back.
Currently, he was selecting his wardrobe, after being measured by Madam Malkin and her flying tape measurer, just like Ollivander had done. Whereas Ollivander's measuring took mere seconds, Madam Malkin was much more throughout, and she measured the strangest sizes; what use could it have to know the length between his knee and his neck? It had taken a few rather uncomfortable minutes - and one time he actually fell, tripped by the tape measurer - but the friendly demeanour of Madam Malkin made him feel at ease, and soon, he had been repeating what Regulus had told him.
Pleased by the amount of clothing he would be buying, Madam Malkin showed him a thousand different robes, hats, shoes, and more, in the span of three seconds. Or, that was how it felt to him, and he had no idea at all what to pick. It didn't help that Madam Malkin seemed to advise him to buy every single thing in her store, saying "This will fit you fabulously, I'm sure!" or "This will look great with your beautiful eyes, my dear!" as she showed him various clothes. Indeed, he was sure that, according to her 'advice', literally every single colour looked great with his eyes.
In the end, he bought... A lot. For one, Regulus had given him carte blanche; unlimited funds. For two, he had no idea what to buy; Regulus would have told him to buy the most classy, stylish, and expensive clothes, he was sure, but he himself preferred something more plain and modest. The easy solution was to buy both - and it made Madam Malkin happy too boot; he wasn't sure how many exclamations of "But dearie, you need this, it's practically made for you!" his very underdeveloped sense of style could handle.
At long last, she applied the necessary charms and enchantments - "A cute boy like you shouldn't ever walk around in filthy robes!" - which of course raised the price even more. On the other hand, crumpling-resisting, filth-repelling, water-absorbing, odour-expelling, and a whole slew of other enchantments sounded nice. Too bad Hogwarts didn't allow those on his normal school robes in the name of 'equality', as Regulus had told him before leaving.
Being the kind lady she was - although his Galleons must have raised her spirits - she shrunk everything and carefully put it all in a bag with glittering, animated, automatically updating ads of her store on it. Feeling like a walking billboard, he waved at the happy woman, and left her shop.
"Give that to me, mister Potter." A not unkind voice came from somewhere to his right. After a moment of alarm, he recognised the voice as Regulus' and turned around.
"Hello sir." He politely greeted Regulus while handing over the rather obnoxious bag.
"Never walk around with such trash." Regulus advised him, glaring at the bag. "I took the liberty of buying a trunk for you." Regulus continued, pointing to a luxurious looking, metallic black trunk resting against the wall of Madam Malkin's.
"Ehm, thank you sir." He said. Although, come to think of it, this wasn't so much generosity as it was necessity; how else was he going to get his clothes, his books, and all his other stuff to Hogwarts?
"It's an Arculum & Capa, so it has some special enchantments; anti-thievery of course, but also various protection enchantments, both for the trunk and for whatever is in it - although I felt a regenerative bubble wasn't needed - and it has both a feather-light charm and a space-expanding enchantment." Regulus looked at Harry's confused face.
"Nevermind. Just put your wand in this hole." Regulus said, indicating a hole between the handles. He did, and the handles suddenly retracted into the trunk, disappearing. He pulled his wand out, but before he could start wondering about how to open the trunk now, Regulus explained.
"Now, your trunk is keyed to your wand. Just put your wand in the hole to open it in the future, or send a burst of wandless magic through the hole - but that's too advanced for now." Now that was quite awesome. He reinserted his wand in the hole, but immediately pulled it out again as the trunk - quite violently - burst open.
The inside was indeed much larger than the outside. And filled with lots of things; about two dozen books, two (shrunk) cauldrons, a few telescope-like devices, multiple sets of phials, two different scales, and possibly some more. Regulus neatly put his newly bought clothing in the trunk.
"Wow, thank you sir!" He exclaimed. Sure, it was only a trunk, but it was a magic trunk, containing lots of magical things! Regulus smiled at him.
"Now, we've been here for about 90 minutes. As the deputy headmaster, I do have a rather tight schedule to keep, but I do believe I can spare half an hour to buy a treat for you, mister Potter. After all, your return to the magical world should be celebrated indeed. Do you like ice cream?" Regulus didn't even wait for the confirming nod. "You'll love Fortescue's then."
"It's called a Xanatos Gambit." He spoke as he strode through a long hallway, cloak billowing behind him. As the man next to him, struggling to catch up and slightly out of breath, didn't reply, he sighed and continued.
"What happens if he does get it?"
The man replied after a moment's pause: "He'll acquire immortality, wealth beyond measure, the ability to preform a few dozen rituals nobody has ever preformed -"
"Quite." He nodded curtly and cut him off. "But what would he do?"
"Well," The man started after another moment of hesitation. "He'd seize power and reform the whole British magical world. Many will be killed..." The man trailed off, apparently getting the idea. He beamed.
"Precisely. Many - government officials, powerful heads of ancient families, other important persons - will be killed. Leaving us to do as we please - there is no way a silly stone will help him survive when he'll be up against us, after all." They turned a corner, and for a few seconds, the man was too busy catching up and catching breath.
"But what if he doesn't get it?" He continued.
"Ah, now that would be telling." He flashed a smile both nasty and kind at the same time. "But I'll humour you; either he dies fighting then and there, or... Well, some would call it suicide." His eyes twinkled madly, as if he had just made the best joke ever. One could practically hear the evil laughter. A moment later, he looked every bit the picture of an elderly but grand and wise wizard.
"Needless to say," He spoke again, now in a booming voice, more commanding and absent of humour. "We need the stone. The real one." They stopped in front of a huge door, full of intricate red and golden patterns. The other man took a few seconds to make himself look presentable as well, before replying.
"Oui, I'll inform my master."
Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour was surprisingly normal and surprisingly small. One would expect an ice cream parlour to be a fantastical, magical place, but it was parlour of only a few square metres, build from an ordinary looking, yellowish kind of wood, with two ordinary lamps hanging from the ceiling. There were a few small tables outside, to enjoy one's ice cream and watch the daily happenings of Diagon Alley.
Upon entering the parlour, however, all that changed. Suddenly, bright, moving disco lights illuminated the room, stick movies and jokes appeared in neon on the walls, loud music that was just a shade away from obnoxiously noisy was played throughout the building, and there probably were a few active cheering wards cast over the establishment. Gone was the small looking parlour, replaced by a huge building filled with pool tables, bowling lanes, a slot machine, and if the sign could be believed, a tropical swimming pool. And everything was decorated with ice cream. Everything. In fact, the bowling balls were made out of ice cream - ice cream that instantly grew back upon taking a bite.
This was amazing. This was awesome. This was magic. Yes, he had thought that a lot of times today, but, wow! Regulus sure knew how to save the best for the last. He'd definitely come back here someday! For now, he ordered the tastiest ice cream cone he could find; vanilla, caramel, and three (!) kinds of chocolate, with chocolate and caramel sauce all over it, not to mention chocolate sprinkles, flakes, toffees, cookies... Of course, this massively defied the laws of physics. And of course, this massively pleased Harry's stomach.
He was guided by Regulus to a table already occupied by someone. Before he could ask whom or why, however, Regulus spoke up:
"Mister Potter, this is my brother, and your godfather; Sirius Black, best friend of your late father." Before he could reply, however, he was enveloped in a bear hug by this new man. This... His godfather!
"Harry..." The man - Sirius - whispered, scarcely believing that the boy in front of him was, in fact, his godson, presumed to be dead for ten years. He was the spitting image of James. James, his lost brother, his best friend, the charismatic man who always did things his own way, who managed to get away with marrying a muggleborn... Who had fallen protecting his family against Riddle. Successfully, apparently; his son was here! Harry James Potter lived!
Overcome by emotion, the both of them didn't say anything for what felt like hours. Eventually, however, they let go of each other. This was the first time Harry could properly look at the man - at his godfather, his family! He resembled Regulus, but he was... Wilder. His hair was longer and not as neatly stylised, for one. His aristocratic features were hidden behind his friendly demeanour, his ever so slightly rounder face, and his relatively muscular build. He was more open, more laid back, and cared less for what others thought of him - at least, if the hug and the tears in his eyes were any indication.
For his part, Sirius saw more James than Harry. Oh, he realised perfectly well that this was James' son, not James himself - but he also recognised part of his happiness came from nostalgia and the subconscious idea that James had been reborn as a kid. None the less, he was happy to see Harry, even if Harry was not James. Although he wasn't merely 'happy'; he was relieved, immensely grateful, and tear struck, too. His godson! The boy who had ridden on his - both human and dog - back, the cause of happiness and joy in a time of misery and despair. Lily's eyes - and oh, how beautiful they were - James' body, and... A strange X-shaped scar on his head?
Sirius gingerly brushed his hand against the scar, but concealed the motion by ruffling through Harry's hair.
"Harry, my boy..." He whispered once more.
"Sir - Siri - Godfa - Ehm, hello..." Came the awkwardly mumbled answer. They both sat down, having forgotten all about Regulus who had wandered off to somewhere, leaving the two of them alone.
"So... I'm your godfather. I- I was your father's friend - his best friend." Sirius started, feeling that he should say something. "Ehm, I'm Sirius Black - Sirius Orion Black - and I'm 31 years old."
"Hello sir." Said Harry shyly. Deciding that this wasn't going to work, Sirius winked at Harry and transformed into a dog, before promptly licking Harry's face.
"Woof!" He barked in a playful tone, but he quickly transformed himself back into his human form. "I'm also a dog." He said cheekily.
Harry silently stared in wonder at the dog-man. A smile slowly spread over his face though, and silence turned into chuckling, which turned into full-blown laughter. Not because it was so very funny, but because... Everything. This was his godfather. His family!
With the ice broken, they relaxed. For half an hour, they discussed all kinds of things, while enjoying all kinds of ice cream. Of course, Sirius told Harry to eat whatever he desired, and Harry, having the best day ever, got caught up in Sirius' enthusiastic attitude, eating himself quite sick indeed. Luckily, Sirius knew a handy charm to cure him - only for Sirius to encourage him to eat some more. They discussed his parents, his family, magic, Sirius' time at Hogwarts, and many more subjects.
Sirius was worried about his aunt and uncle for a multitude of reasons. For one, Sirius was worried they weren't treating him right. It took a few minutes - and Regulus' help, who had suddenly appeared again - but Sirius was convinced not to kidnap Harry then and there. Sure, he had to do chores, and yes, they obviously favoured Dudley, but they didn't beat him, didn't lock him up, and didn't abuse him. He, too, got some pocket money - although less than Dudley - and if not entirely accepted, he was tolerated. His life wasn't full of happiness and joy - except for this one day, perhaps - but neither was it an existence plagued by depressions and hopelessness.
Sirius still insisted Harry should have had a magical upbringing, especially considering his role in the last war; even ignoring the fundamental magical knowledge he had now missed, and even ignoring the alien culture he now would have to adapt to, how could a bunch of muggles keep Harry safe? Regulus interrupted here, stating that he had tested the house and that all was in order, while giving Sirius a warning look that went unnoticed by Harry.
Of course, the Blacks had already run long and very throughout tests on the whole neighbourhood, ever since discovering that one Harry James Potter from number four Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey, was going to attend Hogwarts this year. Nor Arcturus' vast knowledge of ancient Magicks, nor Orion's expertise in defensive magic, nor anyone else - they even brought in a professional warder from Gringotts - could fully explain the results.
It appeared as if number four Privet Drive, and the immediately surrounding area, had been covered in a highly extraordinary magic blanketing field. While that would be unusual enough, this particular field only stopped malevolent magic aimed at Harry Potter. Erecting a field that only stopped malevolent magic - such as the tracking magic that allowed letters filled with bubotuber pus to reach their target - was technically possible. Erecting a field that, on top of that, was keyed to one single person... That was virtually unheard of, and supposedly quite impossible.
Arcturus had theorised it'd require blood magic, if not outright sacrifices. To keep up such a field for a decade would require something extraordinary. Something extraordinarily gruesome. Who had put it there, and how, they couldn't even begin to guess. A secret guardian angel, perhaps, considering it had adequately protected Harry, and appeared to be quite strong still. If a person with less than honest intentions would attempt to harm Harry while he was at the Dursleys, he or she would have to find him first - which was quite impossible thanks to the field. If, somehow, this person knew Harry's address, he or she could still not harm him so long as Harry stayed inside number four. Quite extraordinary indeed.
So, the Blacks had been content with the protections, and they at least accepted - if not liked - his living conditions. That subject had, of course, been broached; now that Harry had met his godfather, wouldn't it be a good idea to move in with him? The answer was a tentative 'no' for now, and an almost definite 'yes' for the future. The Blacks felt it better to introduce Harry to the world at large as an independent person, not as someone already 'claimed' by them; that would give the wrong impression. Everyone was content with this though; Sirius agreed that it wouldn't look well if they more or less kidnapped Harry, whereas Harry himself didn't want to be adopted immediately anyway. Yes, his godfather was positively awesome and the sole link to his parents - besides his aunt - and Regulus had been friendly enough indeed, but really, he needed more than two hours with only two of the many family members to decide these things. Besides, there's a whole school year in front of him, for him to make up his mind.
A third subject had been brought up by Sirius but quickly shot down by Regulus; the Potter fortune. Apparently, Sirius wanted him to know that he had unlimited access to the Black funds and that the Black lawyers would make sure he'd get the Potter fortune back - with interest! - as soon as possible. Well, that was nice, he supposed. Considering he had already begun to see the Blacks - or at least Sirius - as some kind of family, he didn't really care whether he possessed his own fortune or whether he used the combined wealth of the Blacks and Potters. Although he did decide upon revisiting the vault someday, to see what kind of artefacts, books, and other objects were kept hidden underground. Family magic, as Regulus told him, was very powerful and very secret - that he had access to both Black and Potter family magic while both families existed was almost unprecedented.
All good things come to an end, however, and after an emotional hug, it was time to say goodbye to the magical world - for now. And not entirely, of course; he had his trunk, filled with all kinds of magical items. It was during this heartfelt farewell that Sirius unveiled a cage with an owl inside; his birthday present. A beautiful snowy owl gazed into his eyes, as if somehow, she - he instinctively knew she was female - understood he was his new owner. If one believed in it - and with magic, it would be foolish to discard the notion out of hand - one could very well have said some kind of supernatural bond had just been formed between Harry and his new owl.
She was more than a mere snowy owl, even if she was special. She was another link to his family. To Sirius, his godfather, who had bought and given him this magnificent creature as a birthday present. He would treasure her forever.
After a few more instructions; apparently, he'd be picked up at September the first, three PM, to go to Hogwarts - one final gift; a guidebook about owls and how to care for them, as well as food for her - and, of course, one last hug, Regulus grabbed his arm. The last thing he saw was Sirius waving at him, before, suddenly, the world spun around him as he and Regulus apparated in front of number four, Privet Drive. Home. But only technically; practically, he had found a whole new home. A magical one, amidst magicals. And perhaps one day - hopefully? - a Black one.
He waved at Regulus and said goodbye. He couldn't wait to go home again.
The room was dark, lacking any light source save for the green floo fire. It was night - almost 3:00 - but the room had no windows anyway. It consisted solely of cobblestone, surrounding an empty space of perhaps two square metres. On one side was a wooden door appearing to be taken straight out of a medieval castle. On the other side was a fireplace, the source of the green floo fire illuminating the room. There was also a man, who had his head in the fire, speaking to someone on the other side.
"I want you at Hogwarts, to keep an eye on things. The stars say that it's something of paramount importance, but other readings do not make things much clearer, or so I'm told. Something to do with a devil or such nonsense. I don't put much stock in this divination business, and I can't be arsed to remember everything I was told. But it's a good source. Credible. If she says something is going on, then something is going on."
The man had a gruff and rough voice, sounding like someone part of the brass of a military. Which he, indeed, had been in the past. Sort of. Apparently, the room was a dedicated floo room, not very uncommon in the larger - and older - castles and manors. Everything said through the floo could be heard by anyone inside the room. This was useful for holding private meetings, spying, or simple law enforcement; the floo generally was as secure as any communication method could be, so getting an admission of guilt through these special floo rooms was rather easy. One merely needed to breach the many defences to bug the floo room, which was considerably harder.
"But sir, I hav -" A young, male voice. Common enough to not sound any different than anyone else's voice, and as such, not really recognisable.
"You owe me a favour, so cut your whining. And remember who I am. What power I hold. I don't like threatening you - you're a good guy - but I need you to do this." Stern and firm, but not anymore hostile than his usual voice.
"Yes sir. How do I get in Hogwarts? It's highl -"
"Don't lecture me about Hogwarts, boy. Of course it's highly guarded; I saw to that myself." He grumbled something about stupid people. "You're young and all, you'll get on well with the children. And you've got experience. Didn't you trek through some marsh or something? That'll look good when you apply."
"A magical forest, sir. In Albani - Apply, sir?"
"Yes, that. Was I not clear? There's defence, creatures, duelling - or whatever they're called these days. Do whatever you like. Just get into Hogwarts and keep your eyes open."
"What if they do -"
"You seem to have forgotten who I am again. I could just smuggle you inside, or pressure the staff to hire you. But that'd arouse suspicion. Tell everyone something's wrong. I want to know whatever is going on, and catch them red-handed. See this as an exciting adventure, or whatever makes your heart tick. I don't care, just get the job done. You have promise, boy, you have a drive that could see you make it far in this world. Don't let me down."
And that was that. The room, once more, was pitch black; the green floo fire extinguished. With a 'pop', the man went to bed.
Author's note:
So, this is a rather long chapter. More than double the length of any other chapter I've written. I'm not entirely happy with it either; originally, it'd have been much longer, describing a lot more stores (such as buying the books and all, which Regulus did here), and in particular, the whole scene with Sirius would have involved much more actual speech. Although, I do believe this speech would have become annoying, and that a describing format that I used here to sum it all up works better. Similarly, I do believe not describing all those stores has been for the best, both for me becoming 'tired' of it (would I have?) and the reader reading practically the same thing over and over again. I'm still not entirely happy with the chapter, but oh well, it's huge, so I suppose that's to be expected.
It's rather telling that Regulus instantly assumes Harry will see fame as a tool to acquire power or wealth, that the Blacks worry about Harry demanding his fortune back, or the fact that Sirius meets Harry is set up primarily to keep Harry on 'their side', and only secondarily because Sirius is Harry's godfather. Of course Harry doesn't care much for wealth or fame; he cares a lot more about family. And he will find something resembling a family in the Blacks - especially Sirius - but except for Sirius, they're Slytherins. Of course they have ulterior motives, but it doesn't mean they're evil or such.
I know canon says 1 Galleon is about 5 Pounds, but I remember the Weasleys using 1 Galleon to go shopping, and Ron saying he had never owned a Galleon at one point. Now, for the magical world, it could make perfect sense; perhaps they can use magic to replace most manufacturing processes, and creativity, not production, is the limiting factor. But considering they're tied to the muggle economy, that'd mean every single wizard or witch is rich by default. So 1 Galleon being 100 Pounds seems a bit more logical. Let's pretend this is a change brought on by Riddle - and many others copying him - playing the muggle and magical economy.
Oh, and as a side note, writing 'September the first, three PM' was just weird; I don't really like the formatting. I'd have written '1 September, 15:00', but that's not really British I presume?
As always, updates will come at a glacial pace, so expect more than a month to pass inbetween. Actually, expect no update to come at all; that way you won't be disappointed. But in all seriousity, I cannot predict when I feel like writing and what university decides to do, so let's assume a month or two. Thanks for all the reviews though!