Griphook, the goblin, looked at Harry with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "Mr. Potter, what brings you back to Gringotts so soon?" he asked, noticing the broken wand and the bruise on Harry's forehead.
"I need your help," Harry replied. "My uncle, Vernon, he destroyed my wand and my books. He doesn't want me to go to Hogwarts. But I won't let him stop me. I want to buy a new wand, new books, and everything I need for school."
Griphook listened attentively, his shrewd eyes studying Harry's determined face. "You have access to your family vault, Mr. Potter," he said. "You are the last of the Potter family, and your wealth is substantial."
"That's good to know," Harry said, feeling a glimmer of hope.
Griphook continued, "As the head of the Potter family, you do not need authorization to access your funds. However, I must remind you that the wizarding world and the Muggle world have separate economies. We goblins at Gringotts can only facilitate transactions within the wizarding world."
Harry nodded, understanding the distinction. "But I still need a way to manage my expenses in the Muggle world," he said.
Griphook stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Ah, I have just the solution," he said. He reached into a drawer and pulled out what looked like a small, ornate card made of shimmering material. "This is a magical credit card," he explained. "It's linked to your vault at Gringotts. You can use it in the Muggle world for purchases, and the amount will be deducted from your account automatically."
"That's incredible!" Harry exclaimed, taking the card and examining it closely.
"But remember, Mr. Potter, there are limits to what you can purchase in the Muggle world using this card," Griphook warned. "It works best for everyday expenses, but significant transactions or large purchases may still require direct wizarding transactions. Additionally, the card cannot be used for certain magical items or services exclusive to the wizarding world."
"I understand," Harry said, feeling grateful for this lifeline.
Griphook understood the difficult situation he was facing with his aunt and uncle. "Mr. Potter, I have an alternative solution for your immediate needs," the goblin said. "As the head of the Potter family, you have access to Potter Manor. It is a place that belongs to you, and you are welcome to reside there."
Relief washed over Harry as he remembered Potter Manor, a grand estate that once belonged to his family. "Thank you," Harry said gratefully. "That would be a tremendous help. But how do I get there?"
Griphook smiled and handed Harry a small, intricately designed object. "This is a portkey," he explained. "When you activate it by touching it with your hand, it will transport you directly to Potter Manor. It's a convenient way to travel discreetly in the wizarding world."
Harry examined the portkey, a small golden key with the Potter family crest etched on its surface. He felt a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. "I've never used a portkey before," Harry admitted.
"It's simple," Griphook assured him. "Just hold the portkey in your hand and think clearly of the destination. In this case, visualize Potter Manor, and say the words -Home Shield - and the portkey will do the rest."
With a deep breath, Harry grasped the portkey in his hand, closed his eyes, and pictured Potter Manor in his mind—the imposing building, the lush grounds, and the sense of belonging it represented. Within moments, he felt a sudden tug behind his navel, and the world around him blurred.
When Harry opened his eyes again, he stood in front of Potter Manor's magnificent gates. The estate's grandeur and history were breathtaking. A mixture of emotions swelled within him—gratitude for the opportunity to live in a place that was truly his own, and sorrow for the years he had spent in the Dursleys' neglectful care.
-x-
Harry Potter stepped cautiously through the vast halls of Potter Manor, his eyes wide with wonder. The manor was far more magnificent than he had ever imagined. Portraits of his ancestors adorned the walls, each wearing elaborate robes and sporting dignified expressions. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of connection to them, even though they were long gone, their legacy lived on through him.
As he explored further, Harry noticed a peculiar portrait on the far end of the hallway. The frame was grander than the others, and the occupants within looked more real, as if they were somehow suspended in time. Intrigued, he approached it, and to his surprise, the figures within the portrait turned to face him.
"Who's there?" demanded a stern-looking man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, his voice echoing through the hall.
Harry took a deep breath and replied, "I'm Harry Potter, sir. I'm the last of the Potters. I... I didn't know my grandparents, but I've heard stories about you."
The woman beside the man, with a kind smile and warm eyes, spoke softly, "You're James and Lily's son, aren't you? My, how you've grown, dear."
Harry nodded, feeling a mix of emotions as he stood before the portraits of his grandparents, Flemont and Serena Potter. He had longed for a family connection, and now, somehow, he felt like he had found it, even though they had never met.
"You're in quite the state, young man," the man observed, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you look so malnourished and fragile?"
The question caught Harry off guard, and he hesitated before speaking the painful truth. "I... I wasn't treated well by my aunt and uncle. They never cared for me properly, and I had to endure neglect and abuse."
Anger flared in the eyes of his grandparents, and Serena's portrait teared up. "We're so sorry, Harry. We would have protected you if we could have," she said, her voice breaking.
Flemont clenched his fists, his anger evident. "This is unacceptable! You are a Potter, and you deserve better than this!"
Harry felt a rush of warmth at the fierce protectiveness in his grandparents' voices. It was as if they were reaching out to him from beyond the portrait, offering their support.
"We won't stand for this any longer, Harry," Flemont declared, his determination evident. "We can't change what's happened, but we'll do everything we can from here on to ensure you have what you need to thrive."
"We're going to put you on some potions to boost your health and vitality," Serena said, her eyes filled with concern. "And don't worry, we'll help you catch up on your growth. You'll see, Harry, you'll become strong and healthy."
Despite the surreal circumstances, Harry felt a sense of comfort hearing their words. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a loving family, and now, in some strange way, he felt like he was being embraced by his grandparents.
-x-
"Harry, we must get you a new wand" said Serena with concern "We need to get started on the practical aspect of magic"
Harry's face showed it all, he couldn't wait to do magic
-x-
The air inside Ollivander's Wand Shop was filled with a sense of anticipation as young witches and wizards tried out wands in search of the perfect match. Harry stood near the counter, his excitement tinged with a touch of nervousness. This was his second visit to the shop, as his first wand had been shattered by his uncle Vernon during a heated confrontation.
Mr. Ollivander, the silver-haired and keen-eyed wandmaker, carefully examined each wand he handed to Harry. But no matter how many wands he tried, none seemed to respond to him. Frustration crept into Harry's mind as he wondered if he would ever find the right wand.
"Just a few more to try, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said encouragingly, reaching for another box from a dusty shelf.
As the wandmaker turned his back, Harry's eyes caught sight of a peculiar-looking box in the corner. It was old and covered in a layer of dust, seemingly forgotten amongst the newer wands.
"Mr. Ollivander," Harry called out, pointing towards the dusty box. "Could I try that one?"
Ollivander turned around, a hint of surprise in his eyes as he looked at the wand box Harry was indicating. "Ah, that one," he said, his voice filled with a touch of nostalgia. "It's been a while since anyone showed interest in it."
With a sense of curiosity, Ollivander retrieved the box and opened it gently. Inside lay a wand crafted from elder wood, its surface adorned with delicate engravings. A strand of silvery hair, undoubtedly from a Thestral, was nestled within the core of the wand.
"This wand is quite unique, Mr. Potter," Ollivander explained. "Elder wood is a rare and powerful material, known for its strong affinity to its owner. And Thestral hair, even rarer, is known to be a tricky core to master. It is said that only witches or wizards who have truly faced death can tame its power."
Harry's curiosity and determination were piqued. He reached for the wand, and as his fingers closed around it, a peculiar sensation coursed through him. The wand seemed to hum with energy, almost as if it recognized him.
With a flick, Harry swished the wand through the air, and to his astonishment, a burst of silver sparks erupted from the tip.
Ollivander's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his gaze fixed on Harry. "It seems that this wand has chosen you, Mr. Potter."
Harry could hardly believe it. He had found his wand—a wand that was drawn to him just as much as he was drawn to it. A sense of belonging washed over him, and he knew that this wand was meant to be his.
"It's perfect," Harry said, his voice tinged with awe and gratitude.
As he left Ollivander's shop with his new wand in hand, Harry couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of hope and excitement for his journey at Hogwarts. The memories of his shattered wand were fading, replaced by the knowledge that he now possessed a wand that was uniquely his own.
-x-
Over the following days at Potter Manor, Harry was embraced by the care of his grandparents, even if it was through their portraits. The Potions that Flemont and Serena had mentioned worked wonders, nourishing his body and providing the boost he desperately needed. As Harry took them, he felt his strength returning, and his appearance began to transform. The pale, malnourished boy slowly gained color in his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled with newfound vitality.
He began to practice Magic extensively, and slowly but surely he got better. Better to the point where he could take on two dummies in the dueling room
-x-
Harry stood in the spacious dueling room of Potter Manor, wand at the ready, facing two training dummies. These enchanted dummies were not like the ordinary ones; they could fire spells without actually saying them out loud, making the duels more unpredictable and challenging.
Taking a deep breath, Harry focused his mind and prepared to face this new level of difficulty. The dummies' wooden arms suddenly moved, and flashes of light erupted from their wands. Harry swiftly raised his wand, casting Protego to shield himself from the incoming spells.
The training dummies were relentless, and Harry had to stay on high alert to defend himself. They fired spells with precision and speed, trying to catch him off guard. But Harry was determined not to be defeated. He countered their attacks with equal fervor, using Bombarda to keep them at a safe distance.
The dueling room echoed with the sounds of spells colliding and the crackling of magical energy. Harry's reflexes were put to the test as he dodged, deflected, and retaliated against the dummies' relentless barrage.
"Stupefy!" he called out, stunning one of the dummies. However, he knew that his victory was short-lived. The second dummy was already preparing to fire again.
Harry focused on a strategy, thinking quickly to outwit his opponents. He knew he couldn't just rely on the same spells repeatedly; he had to mix things up to gain the upper hand.
"Bombarda!" Harry shouted, aiming at the legs of one of the dummies. The force of the explosion caused it to lose balance, buying him a moment to cast another spell.
"Incendio!" he called out, conjuring a burst of flames that temporarily blinded the other dummy. Using the distraction to his advantage, he quickly disarmed it with "Expelliarmus."
The dummies, however, weren't easily defeated. They regrouped and continued their relentless assault. One of them fired a spell that narrowly missed Harry's shoulder. He gritted his teeth and focused on his training, pushing himself to react even faster.
"Protego Maxima!" Harry cast, bolstering his shield charm to withstand the onslaught of spells. He needed a moment to breathe and plan his next move.
In the midst of the heated duel, Harry spotted a pattern in the dummies' attacks. They seemed to favor particular spells in succession, providing him with a small window of opportunity.
When the dummies launched another round of spells, Harry anticipated their sequence. He timed his next move carefully, waiting for the right moment to strike.
"Bombarda Maxima!" he exclaimed, unleashing a powerful blast that knocked both dummies off balance. Before they could recover, Harry followed up with a disarming spell, rendering them motionless.
With the dueling room now silent, Harry took a step back, his chest heaving with exertion. He had defeated the training dummies, overcoming their unpredictable spellcasting.
As he left the dueling room, a sense of pride and accomplishment filled him. The challenging practice had pushed him beyond his limits, but he had come out stronger and more confident. He knew that mastering dueling was crucial for his journey at Hogwarts, and he was ready to face whatever challenges the magical world had in store for him.
Harry looked forward to the day when he would be dueling not just with training dummies, but with real opponents. Until then, he would continue to train diligently, honing his skills and discovering the full potential of his magic.
As he left the dueling room, Harry felt a sense of accomplishment and excitement. He knew he still had much to learn, but he was confident in his progress. He had focused expensively on Bombarda,Incendio and Protego while Stupefy was still hard to get a grip on, but it was a fifth years spell so he wasn't to worried.
His Dad was never taught Dueling so he was never good at fighting so his Grandparents were determined not to make the same mistake again, they pushed him hard to be able to defend himself.
-x-
Flemont and Serena also introduced Harry to an extensive library within Potter Manor. They encouraged him to read and learn, eager to help him catch up on the knowledge he had missed during his years with the Dursleys. Harry spent hours poring over books, soaking in information on various subjects of magic, history, and the wizarding world. He felt a sense of excitement he had never experienced before, as if a whole new world was opening up to him.
One evening, as Harry sat in the study, Flemont's portrait spoke to him, "Harry, have you ever heard of Occlumency?"
Harry looked up, curious. "Occlumency? No, I haven't. What is it?"
"It's a magical art of shielding your mind from outside influences," Flemont explained. "It can be quite useful, especially if you want to protect your thoughts and emotions from others, such as Legilimens who can read minds."
Harry's interest piqued. "Can you teach me, then?"
"I unfortunately can't but I recommend Alan D Baddeley"
"Alan D. Baddley?" Harry repeated, curious about this mysterious teacher. "Do you think he'll agree to teach me?"
Flemont smiled, "I believe he will, as long as you show dedication and respect for the art of Occlumency. Alan is a strict and hardworking teacher, but his guidance will be invaluable."
Taking his grandfather's advice to heart, Harry decided to reach out to Alan D. Baddley. He sat at his writing desk, parchment and quill at the ready, and composed a letter explaining his situation and his desire to learn Occlumency under the guidance of a skilled teacher.
Days turned into weeks, and one morning, as Harry was sitting down for breakfast at Potter Manor, a snowy owl tapped on the window. It was holding a letter with an official-looking wax seal. Excitement and nervousness surged through him as he recognized the seal – it was from Alan D. Baddley.
Breaking the seal with trembling hands, Harry read the letter. Alan's words were brief and to the point: "I will be at Potter manor on Monday"
-x-
The following Monday, Alan D. Baddley arrived at Potter Manor. As the imposing gates swung open to welcome him, he strode confidently up the long pathway leading to the front doors. Harry was waiting to greet him, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness at the prospect of having his Occlumency teacher right at his home.
"Welcome to Potter Manor, Mr. Baddley," Harry said politely, extending his hand.
Alan gave a curt nod and shook Harry's hand firmly. "Thank you, Potter. Show me to where we'll be working on your Occlumency."
Harry led Alan through the grand halls of the manor, eventually arriving at a spacious and well-appointed room overlooking the gardens. The room had a large fireplace, ornate bookshelves filled with ancient tomes, and a large desk where Alan could assess Harry's progress.
"Quite a place you've got here," Alan commented, sparing a moment to take in the surroundings.
"Thank you," Harry replied. "I'm grateful for your willingness to come and teach me here."
"Let's not waste any more time with pleasantries," Alan said briskly. "We've got work to do."
Over the next several weeks, Potter Manor became a hub of intense Occlumency training. Alan was relentless in his pursuit of perfection, pushing Harry to his limits and beyond. Together, they worked on refining Harry's mental barriers, delving into his deepest fears, and strengthening his emotional control.
At first, Harry found the constant training overwhelming, but he soon realized that Alan's strict approach was precisely what he needed. His skills improved significantly under Alan's watchful eye, and he began to notice a marked difference in his ability to keep his mind guarded.
Alan's teaching style was unyielding, but it was also fair. He recognized Harry's efforts and acknowledged his progress, and Harry appreciated the straightforward feedback. Despite Alan's stern exterior, there were moments when Harry saw glimpses of a teacher who genuinely cared about his growth and development.
As the days turned into weeks, a bond of mutual respect and understanding formed between Harry and Alan. They shared stories of their experiences in the magical world, and Alan even shared some of his own struggles with Occlumency during his younger years.
One evening, as they sat by the fireplace, Alan spoke more openly than usual. "Potter, you have the potential to be an exceptional Occlumens. Your determination and resilience are rare qualities in one so young."
Harry felt a surge of pride at the compliment. "Thank you, sir. I owe much of my progress to your guidance."
Alan grunted, a faint smile touching his lips. "Don't let it get to your head. There's still much to learn. Occlumency is a lifelong pursuit, and it requires constant vigilance."
"I understand," Harry replied. "I'll continue to practice and improve."
"Good," Alan said. "Now, let's get back to work."
And so, the rigorous training continued, but Harry no longer felt overwhelmed. He embraced the challenges, knowing that his efforts were helping him grow stronger, not just as an Occlumens, but as a wizard.
As the month passed, Alan became a fixture at Potter Manor. He visited regularly to continue Harry's training and ensure that his Occlumency skills remained sharp. Their connection grew deeper, and Harry considered Alan not just a teacher but a mentor and, in some ways, a friend.
"So, Harry, I think this will be my last visit to you in a while. I hope you don't forget my lessons and practice occlumency every night before bed" said Alan "oh, and good luck at Hogwarts"
And with that Alan left. It was time for Harry to go to Hogwarts.
Hey, I am getting better but this is the chapter for today. Review pls and Enjoy. (PS - Next chapter harry goes to Hogwarts) catch you next time