Harry Potter woke suddenly, gasping for air, and gazed around wildly, trying to find his bearing. He had been dreaming about killing his uncle, his tiny hands smashing into his uncle's face over and over again and blood pooling from his uncle's head as he lay dead on the bathroom floor.
Harry felt sick, and he wondered when he had fallen asleep. He was perched awkwardly on a tall, thick tree in the middle of a forest. His back was aching, and his right leg was cramping hard as he tried moving around.
"ahhhh" Harry yelled, his voice hoarse as he tried to stop the leg cramp. It jerked his muscles and fired painfully under him, and he waited for the cramp to subside.
Below Harry, the forest floor was wet with dew, and the sun was up, marking a beautiful day. There were storm clouds on the horizon, but the sun was currently shining brightly on Harry's skin.
Harry attempted to get down, and slipped, his right hand scraping against a piece of bark. A sharp splinter lodged itself in the delicate flesh of his wrist, and Harry yelped, curling back into himself, and almost lost balance. He pushed his legs back so that he was once again on the branch, high up in the tree, and caught his breath.
A wave of emotions pushed up through his six-year-old frame, and tears burst out of his chest un-bidding. Harry cried then, tears spilling freely, his cracked and dry mouth coughing every so often as he sobbed.
Harry's mind flashed and he imagined his parents, with dark hair like his, and green eyes, hugging him firmly. He did not often allow himself to have this imagination of his parents, because it often gave him more pain than it helped, but he allowed himself now. Eyes closed tight, Harry Potter clung to the warm feeling, to the imagined embrace of his mother and the strong arms of his father.
The headmaster's office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was an eclectic blend of the ancient and the modern, the magical and the arcane. Tall, arched windows framed by heavy, velvet drapes allowed moonlight to spill into the room, casting a soft, silvery glow over the centuries-old oak furniture. Portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses lined the walls, their inhabitants occasionally stirring in their frames to observe the proceedings below.
The room was filled with an assortment of curious silver gadgets and magical artifacts, some emitting soft whirring sounds, others pulsating with an ethereal light. Among these were devices with a distinctly technological aesthetic: a floating, holographic map of Hogwarts that shifted in real-time, an array of metallic tubes and wires connecting various mystical apparatuses, and a sleek, chrome-plated contraption that hummed with unseen energy.
Most of the artifacts would be instantly hidden if anyone outside of Dumbledore's closest friends entered. After all, Dumbledore was a man of secrets, and he had a strict image to maintain.
In the center of the room stood a large, beautiful desk made from a wood long thought extinct, a beautiful rich wood that Dumbledore was fond of. The desk was currently cluttered with ancient scrolls, an assortment of ancient-looking tomes, and peculiar trinkets. On one side, perched on a golden stand, was a magnificent phoenix with fiery red and gold plumage, its intelligent eyes watching over the room.
Against this backdrop, Dumbledore, with his long silver beard and half-moon spectacles, spoke in hushed tones to Minerva McGonagall, who listened intently. His voice, usually calm and reassuring, held an edge of tension as he recounted the arduous process of securing a place at Hogwarts for a student whose magical abilities were barely sufficient to distinguish him from a Squib.
"I had to fight for this, Minerva," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes serious behind his glasses. "The board of governors was adamant, but I managed to convince them. This child deserves a chance."
Dumbledore leaned back, looking older as he stared off into space.
Just as McGonagall was about to respond, one of the silver items on a shelf in the back of the room—a cube with intricate golden engravings—began to flash a bright red and emitted a shrill, alarming beep. Dumbledore's expression turned to one of shock as he stared at the flashing object.
"Impossible," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Gringotts Bank has never had a break-in before!"
He turned to McGonagall, his face a mask of urgency. "Minerva, I must attend to this immediately. My apologies."
Before she could respond, Fawkes, the phoenix, let out a piercing screech and flew toward Dumbledore, its feathers shimmering like molten gold. In a blinding flash of golden-red fire, both Dumbledore and Fawkes vanished, leaving McGonagall sitting in stunned silence.
The room fell quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the magical devices surrounding her. Minerva McGonagall, ever composed and unflappable, found herself momentarily dazed by the abrupt turn of events, her mind racing with the implications of Dumbledore's last words.
Dumbledore appeared in a secure room inside Gringotts, his heart pounding hard. A small goblin sat behind a desk, reading a newspaper, looking as calm as Dumbledore had ever seen him.
"ahhh, Dumbledore, I expected you to show up," said the Goblin's low drawl. He still did not look up from his newspaper.
"Kreevak, I must see the vault at once!" Dumbledore almost shouted, his magic crackling powerfully inside of him, and the goblin looked serious as he glanced up into Dumbledore's eyes.
"The break-in is being dealt with as we speak Dumbledore. They will not leave alive. There has never been a successful attempt, and that is not about to start now" the goblin reassured Dumbledore.
Dumbledore's voice was powerful and deadly as he said, "Now Kreevak, I must get to the vault now"
Kreevak stood up slowly, and nodded his head, his teeth now bared in a dangerous smile. His sharp teeth clacked together with a sharp sound as he opened the door and led Dumbledore down a side passage.
An attendant led them to a small, rickety cart on a narrow track. Dumbledore and Kreevak climbed into the cart, which immediately lurched into motion, hurtling downwards at breakneck speed. The tunnels flashed by in a blur, illuminated by the occasional torch and the glowing runes embedded in the walls. The air grew colder and heavier as they descended, the roar of the cart echoing through the winding passages.
As they descended deeper into the heart of the bank, the air grew more charged with magic, and the shadows seemed to lengthen, casting an eerie glow on the ancient stone walls. They passed numerous vault doors, each more intricate and beautiful than the last. The doors were adorned with precious gems that sparkled in the dim light, and complex carvings that seemed to shift and dance as one looked at them. Enchanted creatures, fierce and vigilant, guarded some of these vaults, their eyes following Dumbledore and Kreevak's every move. Spells hung in the air around others, shimmering and crackling with latent energy, creating a barrier that buzzed with power.
The cart came to a sudden halt in front of an imposing vault door that was even more heavily guarded than the rest. This door was a true masterpiece, adorned with intricate runes and symbols that glowed faintly, casting a dim light in the dark corridor. The goblins standing guard here were alert and formidable, their eyes never leaving the intruders.
Without a word, Dumbledore seemed to almost fly to the front of the vault, his long robes billowing behind him like a dark shadow. His eyes were fixed on the door with an intensity that made the goblins step back involuntarily, gripping their weapons more tightly. Kreevak approached the door, his nimble fingers working deftly to unlock the numerous magical and mechanical locks that secured it. The series of clicks and the soft hiss of dispelling magic filled the air as each lock yielded to his touch. With a final, resonant thud, the vault door swung open slowly, revealing the treasure within.
Inside, the vault was surprisingly empty save for a single pedestal in the center. On it rested a beautiful flowing red crystal, glowing softly with an inner light that cast dancing reflections on the stone walls. Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief, his eyes softening as he beheld the crystal. He approached it with a mixture of reverence and caution, his wand at the ready. As he neared the pedestal, he cast a series of detection spells, illuminating the air with faint sparks and whispers of magic. The spells shot out of his wand and hit the crystal with a soft tinkling sound, confirming its authenticity and purity. Satisfied, Dumbledore nodded with relief, a sigh escaping from his wizened chest.
Fawkes, his magnificent phoenix, appeared on his shoulder in a burst of flame, his feathers shimmering with hues of red and gold. With a final glance at Kreevak, Dumbledore, and Fawkes vanished in a burst of red and golden flames, leaving the vault in silence.
Kreevak closed the vault door with a shake and a grumble, muttering under his breath about the audacity of wizards. He began to lock the vault back up, his fingers moving with practiced ease over the locks. But then he froze, his ears twitching at the sound of a massive dragon roar echoing through the tunnels. His eyes widened with anger and fierce determination.
"They won't get away," he hissed to himself, his sharp teeth bared in fury. "If I have to use it, I will," he concluded, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he turned to deal with the threat. The sound of the dragon's roar grew louder, reverberating through the stone walls, and Kreevak's resolve hardened. The chase was far from over.
Harry had returned to the office building, planning to hide in the bathroom once again. It was his only idea, and his only chance to escape the rain clouds that were once again roiling through the heavens.
Harry also needed water. The sinks would supply him with clean, fresh water and Harry could not think of anything more important.
The doors to the office building had not opened, and Harry was too early to get in any other way, since nobody had shown up to work yet, and there were no cars in the lot.
Harry decided to try the windows, hoping someone had left one open. There was a window open on the second floor, but it was much too high for Harry to reach.
Eventually, Harry decided to hide in one of the bushes on both sides of the entrance. Harry was tiny, and he would likely not be seen in the thick bush.
Harry practiced darting out of the bush quickly and quietly, and after about a dozen exhausting attempts, he felt confident that he would be able to dart out right before the door closed and place a stick into the door, stopping it from closing all the way. When the person vanished from the front lobby, Harry would sneak in and go to the bathroom.
Harry's chance came nearly two hours later. Harry was aching even more than before, but he could not get up, because someone might come at any second. Harry could not tell time nor did he have a watch to tell time by. He wished he could read the sky like he heard some people were able to do. Harry had once heard a boy much older than he who had been talking to a girl, boasting about how he could read the stars and tell you where north, south, east and west were, and that he could create a makeshift dial to tell the time using three sticks. The girl had not seemed very impressed, but Harry had been awestruck. Harry promised himself to learn that magic one day if he could.
A short man with dark brown eyes and thinning hair strode towards the entrance. He wore a fancy suit and tie and looked wealthy from what Harry could tell. He had a pensive expression on his face, and he was holding a briefcase in one hand, swinging the briefcase gently as he walked.
Harry performed the door jam perfectly, leaping out with hardly a sound, and placing a stick into the door. The man had not noticed at all and had then taken the elevator upstairs.
Harry had darted out of his spot, opened the door, threw the stick into the bush, and headed straight to the bathroom.
Harry stuck his head as far as he could towards the sinks, but he was too short, and he just barely touched his lips to the pouring water. Harry gave up and cupped his hands, allowing cold water to flow into his palms, and then drank the cold fresh water greedily. Harry did not care that his tiny hands were dirty and scraped, and he did not pause for a second to clean them.
Harry drank over and over again, the fresh sweet water soothing his aching throat.
After a few moments, Harry finished up and headed for the stall that he had stayed in last time.
He wondered if anyone would find it suspicious if the same stall was always closed, and decided to use the second stall instead. Maybe it would make it less obvious to anyone who actually paid attention.
The day passed more quickly this time, and Harry was relatively more comfortable now that he had unlimited fresh water.
It was unfortunate that Harry was staying in a bathroom because multiple people used the bathroom for what it was intended for, and the smell was not something that Harry preferred.
Nevertheless, Harry was focused mostly on his hunger, and so the smell hardly bothered him as the hours passed.
During a particularly long stretch of nobody coming into the bathroom, Harry had an idea.
He jumped to the floor, his knees cracking painfully, and opened the bathroom door cautiously. Harry then tiptoed to the bathroom entrance and opened the door.
He did not see anyone outside and peeked to see if anyone was in the hallway.
Harry darted from door to door, checking the knob as gently as possible. They were all locked, and from what he could see without entering the lobby directly, it was dark enough outside to be after hours.
He heard a clattering sound, and as he listened intently, he heard a low singing voice, "I just called to say I love you, I just called to say how much I care…"
He darted back to the bathroom, his heart hammering. Then he realized that if he went back to the bathroom, he would eventually get caught.
He ran back into the hallway, and then into the lobby, trying to listen to where the voice was coming from.
It was from a room on the other end of the hallway, past the elevators.
Harry had an idea, and he ran as quietly and quickly towards the janitor. Harry ran past where the janitor was sweeping, and gently tried all the doors that the janitor had likely already been in. Sure enough, one of the doors was unlocked, and Harry opened it as quietly as he could, and slipped into the dark room.
Harry was in a small office, with three desks and a large printer in the corner.
He hardly paid any attention and quickly darted under one of the desks.
He waited for what felt like hours, but eventually, he heard a car rev and leave the parking lot.
He cautiously opened the office door and was relieved to find the hallway dark, with all the lights off in the building.
He looked around and he felt relieved to know that he would at least not be sleeping outside this night.
Harry curled into a ball under one of the desks and closed his eyes. At the first sounds in the morning, he would run to the hallway, and hopefully find a way to sneak past the morning rush into the bathroom.
The next morning Harry woke up before anyone had arrived in the building. The sun had not yet risen in the sky, though from a glance out of the office window, it looked as if it was about to rise.
He felt alert and awake, his stomach growling painfully. He decided to explore the building, to see if anyone had left any food behind.
He scanned the office he had slept in, but there was no food and only papers that he didn't bother trying to read or understand. Harry could read, of course, he enjoyed reading every chance he got, but his hunger was overriding all else, including his curiosity.
He tried all of the other doors on the first floor, but they were all locked, except for a maintenance closet.
The maintenance closet in the office building was a narrow, utilitarian space, wide enough for one or two people to stand comfortably, but not more. The walls were lined with sturdy metal shelves, each packed with various cleaning supplies and maintenance tools. A faint scent of cleaning solvents mingled with the metallic tang of tools created an oddly comforting aroma of efficiency and readiness that Harry liked.
He pressed the light switch, turning on the closet light so he could inspect the contents of the closet more carefully.
On the left side, the shelves held neatly organized rows of cleaning products: bottles of disinfectant, glass cleaner, and floor polish stood shoulder to shoulder. Boxes of disposable gloves, stacks of cleaning cloths, and rolls of paper towels filled the remaining space, all meticulously arranged for easy access.
The right side was dedicated to maintenance tools. Here, screwdrivers of different sizes and types were neatly stored in a plastic organizer hanging from the wall, each slot labeled for quick identification. A small, well-used toolbox sat on the middle shelf, its contents slightly askew as if recently used. Inside, a Swiss army knife with its iconic red handle was prominently visible, alongside a razor blade safely encased in its protective cover. Harry knew that Swiss army knives were very expensive because he had once heard Dudley ask for one for his birthday. Even Dudley's parents had not acquiesced due to the price of about 35 sterling pounds.
A compact workbench occupied the back wall, its surface cluttered with small hardware items like screws, nails, and washers, all sorted into transparent plastic bins. Above the workbench, pegboards held a variety of hand tools, including pliers, wrenches, and hammers, each hanging in its designated spot. A small magnetic strip held a collection of razor blades, their edges gleaming under the flickering fluorescent light.
The floor was bare concrete, scuffed and stained from years of use, but swept clean of debris. In one corner, a sturdy mop and bucket stood ready, next to a vacuum cleaner with its cord neatly coiled.
Harry noted all of the items, thinking carefully about each one. He knew that items would be noticed missing if he took them, but Harry was planning to use them at night when everyone was gone.
He turned off the light and closed the closet, leaving the items for now, and went to the elevator. He guessed that he still had quite a few hours to explore, and so he was in no rush as he went to all three floors. The second floor had an almost identical layout to the first floor, with locked offices and a few bright green plants near the elevators that were missing from the first floor.
The third floor was one massive office.
There were dozens of desks spread out along the wide open floor plan, with large bulky square computers with black desk phones on each desk.
Harry had heard of the computer but had never seen one up close. He touched the screen with awe and stared at the giant clunky keyboards as if he were looking at a spaceship.
There was a giant whiteboard in the front of the room, and although Harry understood nothing of the graphs and strange letter combos, he knew it must be something financial from all the money signs and dollar bills in all the graphs going up and down. There was a large American flag in one corder of the whiteboard, as well as the flags of the UK, France, and a couple of flags Harry did not recognize at all. Under each flag was a currency symbol, and below that a few random letters.
Harry had an excellent memory, and he remembered a conversation between Uncle Vernon and one of his fellow employees from Grunnings who had been over for lunch when Harry was barely three years old. Harry had eaten a good meal that night since the Dursleys had not wanted Harry to go hungry in front of a guest.
The conversation had been about Grunnings itself, the man saying that he wanted to own Grunnings stock because he knew that the recent acquisition (Harry had no idea what stock or acquisition meant) would push the price up considerably.
He remembered Vernon looking annoyed at the topic, and had said that he wished instead for a pay raise if the higher-ups were sitting good on their golden thrones of stocks.
He remembered the man NOT taking the hint, and he had gone on and on about how the stock went up and down so often, but this was surely a bet he could win with.
He gave up trying to understand the whiteboard and instead searched the room for food.
Harry's luck improved for the better when he noticed a prominently placed refrigerator gently humming in the corner of the office. Upon opening the door to the fridge, he was met with a cool breeze and a well-organized interior. Each shelf was adorned with a variety of sandwiches, each wrapped in clear, crisp paper that showcased fillings of sliced turkey, ham, and fresh vegetables. Alongside them, an array of deli meats was arranged meticulously, each type rolled and neatly stacked. The door featured several rows of small milk cartons, all lined up perfectly, ready to provide a fresh, cold drink. Below the milk was a row of Coca-Cola bottles with bright red metal caps. This delightful find was not just a feast for the eyes but also a promising solution to his hunger.
Harry burped as he finished off a third bottle of ice-cold, bubbly Coke, rubbing his stomach as the second sandwich settled comfortably. He felt full and cheerful, his eyes brightening and a giddy feeling rising in his chest.
The last few days had been stressful and traumatizing, but now, in this moment of calm, he felt reassured that he would be okay. He just hoped they wouldn't notice any food missing. Harry was determined to stay unnoticed because what he had found here was too good to lose.
The following day's edition of The Daily Prophet would send shockwaves through the wizarding community. Emblazoned across the front page, the headline announced,
"Break-In at Gringotts: The Potter Vault Emptied."
A/N: I am not sure how often I can put out chapters, but this will be a long story, so many more to come. I should be able to get one or two a week, maybe even three a week occasionally, but don't be alarmed if it takes longer once in a while.
This story is quite complex, so don't worry if you don't yet understand everything going on, or if you are confused by certain scenes. A good author does not need to explain, and instead the story will explain itself in due time.
As always, I really appreciate any suggestions, spelling and grammar fixes, and all reviews are appreciated!