When Harry and Sirius returned to #4 Privet Drive, they were weighed down with shopping bags. They had taken up a lot of room on the Underground, which they had taken to House of Fraser and back. When they were in the living room, Aunt Petunia was cooking in the kitchen. She gave Sirius a nasty glare.

"I don't think she wants you staying for dinner," Harry whispered.

"It's okay," said Sirius. "I will another time."

"Thanks for all this stuff," said Harry, seating himself on the couch. Sirius sat next to him, and sensed that something wasn't quite right.

"What's the matter, Prongslet?" he asked.

"Prongslet?"

"My nickname for James was Prongs, so naturally, our nickname for you was Prongslet," Sirius explained, then paused. "But what's the problem?"

"Well, I really appreciate all of this, but I don't think it will make much of a difference at school," said Harry sadly. "New clothes won't buy new friends."

"You're right," said Sirius, standing up. "They won't. But I'll tell you what does—and I would know, seeing as your father and I were very popular ourselves."

"What?" said Harry glumly, staring up at him.

"Self-confidence," said Sirius wisely, taking Harry's hand and pulling him to a standing position. "If there's anything that makes a bloke popular, it's self-confidence."

"But I don't have any self-confidence," said Harry. "So what use is that?"

"Well, at first you might have to pretend a bit," Sirius replied, then sat down on the couch. "C'mon, show me how you walk."

"What?"

Sirius gestured to the door to the kitchen. "Just walk across the living room, past the TV, there."

"Well…okay." Harry began to walk the length of the living room, although he didn't understand why, but he hadn't even gotten halfway across before Sirius stopped him.

"Now what sort of walk is that?" Sirius demanded, getting up and walking over to him. "You can't have that shuffling sort of walk where you look down at the ground, can you? Part of having self-confidence is all about how you hold yourself."

Sirius bent down and placed one thin but strong hand underneath Harry's chin and tilted it upwards; the other pressed flat against Harry's back and straightened it, as though Harry was wearing an invisible spine brace.

"Stand up straight," said Sirius, "and don't look down at the ground. Now, walk again—this time the way I do."

Harry watched Sirius walk across the room with a gait he had obviously perfected, yet looked effortless—a sort of hip-swaggering strut, proud and carefree. When he was done walking he turned around, tossed his hair out of his eyes, winked and leaned against the wall. Harry was in awe.

"See?" said Sirius. "Loads of self-confidence…yet approachable."

"I can't do that," said Harry.

"Come on, nobody's looking," said Sirius. "Not even I could learn it overnight."

"Really, I can't," Harry insisted. He was keeping his chin and the air and his back straight, but he wasn't used to it. Most of the time he liked to fly below the radar.

"Harry, let me ask you something," said Sirius solemnly. "Are you ashamed of who you are?"

"Um—"

"No," said Sirius dramatically, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "You're not. You're proud of who you are! You're Harry Potter! The boy who conquered the Dark Lord!"

"But I don't remember—"

"For goodness sake, do you think people care if you remember it?" said Sirius. "They don't care if you defeated him by throwing your pacifier at him! The point is, you are an amazing person, with amazing talents! Your own dear mother told me it was as if you were born on a broomstick, and if there's one thing that your fellow Hogwarts students will be crazy about, it's Quidditch."

"You think I'll be good at flying?" said Harry doubtfully.

"I'm sure of it," said Sirius. "It's in your blood. Now—throw off that weight you've got on your back and don't walk, strut."

Harry felt incredibly silly at first, but he did his best to imitate Sirius's swag. Sirius insisted on doing it over and over again, until Harry had actually gotten a lot better, and, indeed, felt better about who he was.

"Wonderful! Perfect!" Sirius bent down and hugged Harry. "You'll do all right at Hogwarts."

"Of course I will!" said Harry confidently, collapsing back onto the couch, beaming. "Listen, speaking of Hogwarts…do you know if my parents, well, left anything for me?"

"You mean their Last Will and Testament?" Sirius looked thoughtful.

"Well, I was talking about cash, but that too," said Harry.

"I'm sure James left you all his gold," Sirius replied. "Well, technically it's your grandparents' gold—James didn't work; he was an heir, like me, so he was set for life. But to be honest, even though I'm sure you got all of James's inheritance—over half a million, the way I hear it—"

"In pounds?"

"No, over half a million Galleons," Sirius clarified. "Anyway, like I said, I'm sure you have access to your parents' vault, but I don't think anyone knows the details of the estate itself, exactly. It's in their safe deposit box at Gringotts. But we can't go today. It's nearly three on a Saturday afternoon and you know how early banks close on weekends…"

"And we can't go tomorrow, since banks are closed on Sundays," Harry added.

"But we could go Monday after your school is over," said Sirius. "Gringotts doesn't close until five-thirty on weekdays. We could get from here to London in no time at all if we took my motorcycle."

"I had a dream about a flying motorcycle," said Harry, remembering.

"Harry," said Sirius, grinning, "that wasn't a dream."

…

What's in the Potters' safe deposit box? Will Harry's self-confidence last? Find out in the next installment, coming soon!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who faved, followed, and especially reviewed! As JKR said herself, it's only a story if someone wants to read it. Your encouragement makes me so inspired to write the story so keep it coming!