Stepping into Gringotts was the next journey for us. I had been in plenty of banks before, but Gringotts was special. The snow-white building towered over all the little shops, and the matching stairs were steep as they led up to the brown door. As we reached the building, I could read the inscription of a warning.
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.
We were greeted by a portly creature, a wrinkled but clever face who didn't smile at me but he bowed as we walked into the building. I copied Mr Snape's response of a nod to the creature.
"Is that?" I tilted my head and whispered. "What are they?"
I looked at all the small bank tellers, not wanting to be rude with not knowing what they were so I kept my voice low.
"Goblins. All Gringotts employees here are Goblins," he said, his slow pace never wavering as we came upon the high desk at the very end. He swiftly took something out of his pocket and laid it on the desk. A key. "Possessive creatures. Yes, we are here to acquire money from Miss Rebekah Potter's vault. Allor, Vault 912."
"Yes, of course," Allor said, pausing with a finger in the air. "Would Miss Rebekah Potter like to take part in an identification session, first?"
"Mister Allor, before I agree to anything, can you first clarify what this identification session means?" I asked politely. Of course, I was being respectful, I had no idea who this Goblin was, or could be representing. "I am unfamiliar with the terms, and would like it if you would explain what, if I chose to do it, would entail as the results?"
"Of course," Allor smiled, the skin-tight against his skull. "An identification session would include you piercing your finger for blood and dripping it onto a piece of enchanted parchment. It would result in a reaction between the Magic on the parchment and your blood, allowing us to see if you are in line for any other vaults, or perhaps Houses. Also, we would be able to see if any money has been taken without your knowledge."
"If there is any money taken, it isn't because I have taken it," I muttered, then spoke louder. "Okay, yes, I am willing to do the identification session."
"Does she need permission?" Petunia asked. "If so, it is fine with me."
"Good, and no, Mrs Dursley. Miss Potter would need the permission of a Wixen guardian if she had one. In her case, this does not apply due to you being a Muggle, however, anything that is more drastic, would need permission," Allor said calmly. "Simply cut your finger with the knife and drip the blood onto this parchment."
I took the knife, though it was more like a little blade with its four-inch length, dug the point into my left index finger and twisted it harshly. I didn't grimace, complain or whine, I simply ground my teeth slightly. The crimson drop splattered against the light tan of the parchment, glowing a golden tone then turned to a bright silver flash.
"Is that supposed to happen?" Petunia asked, curious.
The goblin looked worried for a moment then took a glance, and seemed happy with the results.
"No, but it is not something to worry about," he reread the parchment. "Take a look upon the parchment, Miss, nothing to worry about."
With a cautious hand, I took the parchment and read the swirly, black script.
Name: Rebekah L Potter
Heir of claimed House(s): Potter
Then a list of items in my vault. The amount of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts was ridiculous. Besides, for the amount that was sent to the Dursley bank account each month, nothing had been taken out of my vault.
It didn't really reveal anything else important. It was burnt by my request.
"Now to the matter at hand," Allor took my key and stepped down, becoming much shorter than me. "You will need access to your vaults, though vault for the moment until you turn seventeen."
"Seventeen, why seventeen?"
"A young witch or Wizard becomes an adult, or, they become independent to their parents and or guardians," Mr Snape said from behind. "It depends on what laws one abides by."
I hummed. "Well, Mister Allor, I would like access to my available vault."
"Yes, of course,"
I didn't like the way down to the vaults. My satchel kept slamming against my side even if I held it down. My hair whipped in my face, my shirt rattling against my frame. My knuckles turned white with my grip on the rails. My mouth was dry by the end. Even Petunia was having a hard time adjusting to the travel to the vault.
Though what was inside my vault was worth it.
Piles upon piles of gold, silver and bronze neatly set on antique pieces of furniture. Small glass cases of jewellery, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches and even seven different crowns, circlets and tiaras sat there, untouched for decades. I counted a dozen bookcases containing several hundred, perhaps a thousand books. I hoped they were full of spells, enchantments and Magic, or at least traditions I could learn.
The Goblin held a grey pouch, hoarding several thousand gold, silver and bronze coins into it. "Here. You are almost done now, Miss. Please place anything you would wish to take from the vault into this, it will never be full or turn heavy as there is an enchantment placed upon it."
"Anything?" I smiled, my lips tugging upwards slowly. The Goblin nodded, his face matched mine in greed. "Well, I'll be taking most of the books, and perhaps a few bits of jewellery."
"Of course," Waving his hand, Allor made most of the books, perhaps five or six hundred, float their way to the pouch. The pouch extended its rim to allow the books in. "Now, we will have to make your ring."
"All right," I followed the Goblin outside. Petunia and Mr Snape was requested to not enter the large vault without permission. They stayed outside and waited for me to finish.
And then it was time for the ring.
Eleven drops of blood coloured the molten silver metal, flashing a bright white in the small cauldron. It transformed and cooled the silver into a crest ring, like the ones the royal or upper-class elite would wear.
The ring sat in the caldron, dark silver in colour. The band was thin until the coat of arms, my family's coat of arms, bulged the ring slightly. The coat held three wands pointing toward their tips combined, a glowing orb sat there, a tone or so lighter than the dark background. Underneath everything, the name Potter was held within a banner.
"Not bad, it's comfortable enough," I said, wiggling my right hand where the ring sat on my ring finger. "Will I need to get it recast every few years, or will Magic do it for me?"
"No recasting needed until you are seventeen, the other vaults will make themselves known to you and you will get the other crests mixed with your own."
"Thank you, Mister Allor," I said, bowing my head slightly. "And have a pleasant day."
Half an hour later, we came into Twilfitt and Tattings, the pouch of Wizarding currency in my satchel. The shop was known to cater to the more expensive tastes, Mr Snape told us, and Petunia agreed that we should go there. She was always the person to say quality over quantity, and I stood on the platform in Twilfitt and Tattings, getting fitted for ny school uniform as Mr Snape explained the uniform rules for students.
Grouping the First and Second years into Lower Years, Third, Fourth and Fifth into Upper years, and Sixth and Seventh years into Sixth Form. It made it easier for the professors to give out advice to students early on into their education, so if they wanted advice for vocational education or apprenticeships, they would advise the Sixth Form students because that was where it was aimed.
It was strange that each section of the school had their own version of the uniform.
The main uniform for all of the Lower and Upper students was the same. Black shirt, a choice in either a plain or patterned skirt, shorts or trousers. The pattern was a madras pattern of their two house colours or simple black. A blazer was enforced for them too, but they had a choice of a robe or blazer but one or the other had to be worn. A tie was not optional.
I was jealous of the Sixth Form students who got to wear almost anything they wanted as long as it had a dark shirt and tailored trousers. They only really had to wear was a robe or a cloak which had their house colours so teachers could tell which house they were from.
I couldn't complain about her uniform. Mr Snape had said it had changed in the coming years so it wasn't as bad as it was five years ago. No longer the huge enforcement on cumbersome robes and skirt down past knees that seemed to always be in the way. At least now it didn't look out of place in any other school in Britain.
I had a bit of everything tailored; black shirts fitted nicely, a black skirt and a pair of trousers along with a grayscale patterned set of skirts and shorts. The robe was beautifully crafted with grey lapels and hems and emblems since they didn't know my house yet. The tie was normal, plain black until the sorting ceremony.
Mr Snape just sat back as the seamstress pinned the robes to me, but he kept an eye on me as he and Petunia discussed other things about being a Muggle guardian of a Wixen minor. The seamstress made suggestions about my life at Hogwarts.
Later, Mr Snape came to the conclusion that a companion would be needed at Hogwarts.
"It would benefit if you were to get a creature, an animal as a companion," Mr Snape said, guiding us to an animal store. "Hogwarts allows cats, owls, and toads."
He held the door open for Petunia and I, wincing at the sound of the deafening creatures. The shop had several rows of cages, perches and blankets, each holding several animals inside. An older Witch, perhaps late forties, early fifties, stood behind the counter and wrestled with a huge feline.
The feline was not an ordinary cat, that was for sure. It was huge, the size of the witch's torso, with large paws and furry body. Mostly coloured a grey and black tone, as the feline wrestled, its limbs turned to dark smoke. It withered, twisted, clawed and hissed, all in an attempt to get away from the terrible Witch.
The creature clawed at her, a large gash forming. It jumped away from her, landing a few meters away on an empty cage. It pawed the air with claws, hissing through its teeth.
I instantly loved the animal, reaching for it.
"Is it safe?" Petunia asked quickly but she was too slow as I was picking up the large feline by the scruff and cuddling it in my arms.
It was so much like me at times, feral and beautiful. It almost made me fall over due to its weight, its squirming ceased and allowed itself to go limp in my arms. The feline sounded a deafening purr as it began to rub its head into my neck. I smiled and cooed at the creature.
"How the fu-" The shopkeeper was silenced with a glare from both Petunia and Mr Snape. "How did you get that damned creature to calm down? It has been a terror and menace since it got left here!"
"I understand why," I whispered to the feline, giving its ears a nice scratch. "You absolute poor thing. I understand why you would behave so, these conditions are horrendous."
"Will you take this one as your creature?" Mr Snape observed us as the feline purred affectionately.
Petunia hummed, "I think it likes her."
"Yes, definitely," The feline allowed itself to be moved in my arms. I held it like one does a tired toddler, its paws and head next to mine and I held up its body with both arms. "I ain't leaving this thing here. This place is disgusting."
Mr Snape nodded once, sharply turning to the shopkeeper. "She will have the feline."
The feline, Emperor, fell asleep on me as we left the shop. A thick silver collar around his neck, he didn't protest to it and even went to choose it himself.
"Good riddance." The Shopkeeper muttered under her breath. "We'll see how long it takes for him to kill her too."
)(-)(
And the final stop was getting the wand. Ollivanders was the famous wandmaker, Mr Snape informed as we made our way there.
"What is Magic, in its entirety?" I asked the burning question that forbade itself to be known till now. "Besides, of course, a force to be reckoned with."
"Magic is not a thing to be owned, Miss Potter," He glanced downwards to mw and reverted his gaze back to the surroundings. "It is a force, in a Muggle form, but it comes from the connections that we have with the Earth and its inhabitants. No connection, no Magic, meaning Muggles. Some may have a better understanding of Magic and so can advance in it faster than others. It will always depend on the person's core, mind and will if they were to advance in a certain aspect of Magic or any of its darker forms. Is that a good enough answer for you, Miss Potter?"
"Yes, thank you, Professor," Emperor walked beside me, my satchel twisted comfortably around his back as he wore it like a little backpack. "I wondered what actually caused Magic. Is that why most people need a wand to perform Magic because the wand is made from Earth and its inhabitants?"
"Yes, most people have weak cores and wills, and so they need to use a wand to act as an amplifier," he said. "As one becomes more powerful, one may learn the art of wandless and, or wordless Magic. Though this takes many years of practice."
Mr Snape, once again, opened the door and let me in first. Tinkling bells rang in the depths of the shop as soon as we stepped inside. The shop was narrow and thin, though held many thin but long boxes. Most likely, they held wands.
Petunia waited outside, wanting some air instead of being in the stuffy shop.
"Good afternoon," I greeted the ageing man as he appeared.
"Ah yes," The man said. "Yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Rebekah Potter. You are the spitting image of your mother. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
"When can we get my wand?" I asked.
He hurried his words. "All right, Miss Potter. Let's see if this wand will suit you. Holly and Dragon heartstring eleven inches, nice and supple."
I gripped the wand with my right hand, changed it to my left and back. A book exploded in the corner and I placed it down. "No, horrible wand."
He held another wand in moments. "Ash, unicorn hair, ten point three, bendy."
He snatched it out of my left hand. "No, no."
He went in the back room and took a minute or two to choose a wand. He handed it to me but as soon as it touched my palm, I dropped it back on the desk.
I shook my head, "That's awful. Ew."
I rubbed the disgusting feeling off my hand, the slimy, foreign Magic having touched me.
I was two more wands, both of which made my skin scrawl.
He hummed and thought, "Perhaps, maybe not actually. Bad idea."
"Now we won't ever know if that is a bad idea if we don't try it," I said and held my right hand out.
The wand glowed in my hand even if it was dark grey. It was cool and comforting in a strange, unique way.
Holding it felt like I was home.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every single wand and its owner. It so happens that the Phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather. Very rare that you would be given the sibling feather to the one that gave you the scar." He nodded to himself. "Longer than your own, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Same wood, Yew. Strange. Almost like twins. The wand chooses the Wizard, Miss Potter, or Witch in your case. I believe that we should expect great things from you, Miss Potter… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible but great things."
There was a moment of silence as I allowed the information to process. Who was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? It was very vaguely familiar but I didn't know where I had heard that name before.
"All right." I paid the amount discussed and left the shop, my wand twirling between my fingers.
They left the wand shop, getting onto the streets of Diagon Alley. It wasn't busy since it was barely mid-day and many people were at work so it was mostly parents with children, teens gathering equipment for school, or the old generation catching up with their friends.
)(-)(
On my birthday, I awoke to find that someone left a mouse on my pillow.
Not a dead one.
It continued to squirm even after Emperor swatted it with his paw. I gasped and flicked the creature off of my fresh sheets. It scurried along until Emperor caught it within his jaws.
"No, eat it outside. Not in here, outside. Now." I pointed to the door with a swift hand. "I'm not cleaning that up if you make a mess."
I huffed as Emperor swatted the door open, trodding his way out and biting the mouse harder. It squicked lightly.
What a way to begin my birthday.
I checked the time, 7:13 AM. I huffed again and shrunk out of my covers. I needed to start my day, else I would not be able to go to Diagon Alley today. I took a fast shower, then dressed in a magenta shirt with skinny blue jeans and flats.
"Morning," I said in the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast. "When can we leave for London?"
"After Breakfast," Vernon said, then chewed a piece of fatty bacon.
"Are you sure you don't want us to join you?" Petunia asked. "I don't want you to be alone there without anyone. At the very least, I'll come with you."
"If it makes you feel better, Petunia, sure. I'm actually quite scared of going by myself," I confessed. "I plan on taking Emperor anyway. We all know he isn't a normal cat."
Over the last little while, Emperor always acted very much differently than other cats. And soon enough, I realised why. Emperor wasn't a normal cat, he liked to change shapes as in his height and build. One time, I went to sleep with normal sized Emperor and woke up with a lion-sized cat in my bed.
The moment I saw him, I instantly knew Emperor was mine in every way.
I wouldn't be spending the day with my family, only with Petunia and Emperor. Luckily, Uncle Vernon had made reservations at one of my favourite restaurants in London for that evening. After spending the day in Diagon Alley, Rebekah and Aunt Petunia had something to look forward to.
)(-)(
The Leaky Caldron was just as grim as it was before. Only a handful of people were there, mostly chatting and having either a drink, breakfast or both. A long, thin cigar sat at the curve of a man's lips, the wisps of smoke began to make shapes. They swirled into the shape of silver whiskered fox and then into a large cat.
"I don't like this, this hovel of a place!" Petunia whispered. I nodded, then looked up at her as we continued to walk to the strange stone wall.
"Nor do I, but this is the only way that we've been shown," I took my wand out and swiftly pressed it to the right stone. Petunia took a sharp breath as she saw the wand.
Of course, Diagon Alley wasn't as busy as it was last time since it was a Tuesday and being very early on a Tuesday meant people were at work. So businesses were not too packed but had an adequate amount of people coming in and out to satisfy their needs. Most were mother of all sorts with young children, or young adults, or teens gathering equipment for school, or the elder generation but I didn't know how old some of these people could be. Some looked old enough to be born in the Victorian Era, or perhaps even before then.
"Where are we going first?" Petunia asked.
"I have everything for the school year," I replied. "But I don't know if I should get the books for next year too."
"Why not get the next two years? It would further your learning quickly."
I shrugged then nodded and smiled. "Sure."
Obscurus Books had a large variety of books of all sorts. Mostly non-fiction, there were exceptions. Textbooks were to one side as were other information based books. The bookshelves themselves were a light wood that were a few inches think because of how many thick and heavy books were there.
We left with more than a hundred Galleons worth of hardback books. Petunia had a strange look in her eye as she watched me place all thirteen books in my little purse.
"We don't get many Muggles coming in here," A man said when Petunia and I entered Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. "I am Florean Fortescue, the owner of this establishment."
"Muggles?" Petunia said.
"Non-Magic people, anyone who doesn't have Magic or Magical ancestors. I like to know the names of my patrons," He said.
"Mrs Petunia Durlsey," She said, shaking his hand. "This is my niece, Rebekah Potter."
"The Rebekah Potter? A pleasure, Miss Potter, Mrs Dursley, I'm sure. Right," He said, placing both palms on the counter. "What will you be having? Chocolate chip cookie dough? Rocky road? Cookies and cream? Mint choc chip? Strawberry? Raspberry? Vanilla? We got variation of Magical and Muggle versions of each."
"One Muggle…" the word sounded wrong on Aunt Petunia's tongue. "Mint chocolate chip and one?"
"One Magical Raspberry ripple, please."
"All right, that'll be one Galleon, one Sickle and seventeen Knuts," I handed over one Galleon and two Sickles, getting twelve bronze Knuts in return. "Find a table and I'll bring them over when they're ready."
Aunt Petunia found a small booth table with enough room for four people. I sat on the cushioned booth while Petunia gracefully sat on the equally cushioned chair. We began to talk about the dinner they would have later. My eleventh birthday was to be celebrated, and since Dudley went to the Zoo for his by his request, I asked if we could go to my favourite restaurant instead.
"Move elsewhere," A short man stood to the side of Aunt Petunia, his stooped back made him seem shorter than he was. As did his long, dark purple robes did too. When Aunt Petunia ignored him, he took his short walking stick and hit it against her chair.
"Excuse me?" Petunia said, her voice going higher in displeasure and surprise. "What do you want?"
"Move somewhere else, we need this table," He pointed to the three children behind him. "Go."
"No." Aunt Petunia narrowed her eyes. "We were here before you, thus you can move elsewhere."
"A Muggle of course!" He exclaimed. "Pathetic, filthy lot of you. I don't understand why he lets Mudbloods in, disgraceful!"
"Mr Nott, I suggest you move along. I won't have that type of language in my shop," Mr Fortescue came with a tray carrying the two bowls of ice cream. "Here you go, Mrs Dursley, Miss Potter. Off you trot, Mr Nott."
Mr Nott's whole demeanor changed when my last name was said. He became more pleasant.
"Tobias Nott," He stepped closer. "This is my son, Theodore Nott. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Potter."
"I'm sure," I glanced at his outheld hand repulsively. "I rather not shake your hand, you wouldn't want to touch filth, now would you?"
"I suggest you leave now," Mr Fortescue stepped in front of Mr Nott. being much shorter, Mr Nott became intimidated and back away, taking his son and friends. "All done. I am sorry about that intrusion on your morning Ice cream. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
The rest of the outing went terribly quickly and without any unpleasant hitches.
The restaurant was pleasant. I had one of my favourite meals, Slow-Cooked Vegetable Stew. The whole birthday affair went quietly and everyone had a good time.
