Chapter 1: The Cupboard Under the Stairs?
A boy slept in a cupboard under the stairs in a nondescript house, on a normal street, the dim light filtering through his eyelids as he slowly woke in the quiet hours before dawn. But as he came to consciousness, his eyes widened as he took in to him unfamiliar surroundings. "How did I get here..." His hand clamped over his own mouth as he seemed to startle. "Why do I sound like a little kid? And why am I British? Last thing I remember was the truck..." Eyes widening again, he took another look around, spotting a crudely carved message in the wood of the wall. Harry's Room.
Mind whirling, he came to a rather disturbing conclusion. Okay, did I suffer so much brain damage that I'm in a coma? Or did I actually die and get isekied as Harry Bloody Potter? And judging by the fact that I'm in the cupboard, it's before the Hogwarts letters start showing up... It's at this point that memories, those of Harry Potter start filling his conscious thoughts and he frowns. Okay, "Harry" just turned ten a month ago... This gives me a little less than a year to get this sorted out... Best get my priorities in order.
Getting slowly to his feet, "Harry" opened the cupboard door hoping the hinges wouldn't make a sound. Waking the Dursley's would be a bad idea. I have to get out of here. Relying on the shared memories of the boy who's body he shared, he found the purse of Petunia Dursley and raided the wallet within for the notes she always kept topped off. Not like they will miss them for long. Well off snobs couldn't even properly care for their nephew despite being above average financially. Probably even milking a stipend from the Potter's funds.
Making his way outside, the boy took in the fresh early morning air. The barest hint of orange was just creeping over the horizon, and bathing the nearly identical houses all down the street in a soft light. Knowing he didn't have much time to escape, the boy quickly moved towards the park his shared body remembered, and more specifically the concealed alleyway between it and the next street. It would be the perfect place to call the Knight Bus. Finally reaching the point, and with a frown he held a hand out as if hailing a cab.
I really hope this works. I don't exactly have a wand... And I really hope they accept muggle money. Might have to drop the name Potter and show the scar. I'll have to move fast once I do though, cause word is bound to reach Dumbledore that Harry Potter has boarded the Knight Bus a year before he is due to be exposed to the magical world... Albus Bloody Dumbledore, I will have more than a bone to pick with you old man... He was snapped out of his thoughts as with the trademark bang, a purple, triple decker bus appeared in the alley.
With a sigh, "Harry" waited as the bus came to a stop, and a teen stepped out of the bus, his appearance almost spot on to the descriptions he had read, what seemed like so long ago. "Welcome to the Knight Bus! Transport for a stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I'll be your conductor this morning..." His eyes glanced over the boy before him, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Bit young to be on the bus this early aint'cha? Where your parents kid?"
Putting on a look of nervousness, he hid his smirk behind the shaggy hair that "Harry" was known for. "Well it's me mum's birthday soon... And I can't well take her shopping for her own present can I? Do you take muggle money by any chance? It's all I've got before I get to Gringotts." Stan immediately smiled, and with a chuckle gestured towards the bus. "Well aint'cha a good kid goin to get yer mum somethin' nice. Don't worry, we take muggle money. You heading to Diagon I assume? We can drop ya off outside the Leaky Cauldron for a tenner." Pulling out the correct bills, he paid the man and took a seat, gripping a pole in preparation for the wild ride to come.
After what seemed like fifteen minutes, the bus finally comes to a stop on a street not quite busy, outside a shabby looking old pub that the few passing morning commuters seem to completely ignore. Getting off, "Harry" turned just in time to see the bus take off with another bang. And with a quiet chuckle he stepped forward into the dark lobby of the pub. There was almost nobody inside, however he quickly made note of two easily recognizable figures in the room. One was obviously Tom, the balding pub owner. The other was someone who could only be Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody. Ignoring the eye best as he could, he approached the counter. "Excuse me sir, could you let me into the alley? I need to get me mum a birthday present and get back before she wakes up." With a chuckle, Tom steps out and gestures for the boy to follow him. He returns alone a few moments later and pours Moody another cup of coffee. "Kids sure are cheeky these days." Moody only grunts in response as he seems to be thinking. Why was that kid so familiar?
With a look of genuine wonder, "Harry" took in the splendor that was Diagon Alley. I can see how Harry loved this place from his first visit. Even early in the morning you can almost feel the magic in the air. With a frown he began thinking as he walked down the cobblestone street. I guess I should probably stop thinking of myself and Harry as separate people. For all intents and purposes I AM Harry now. He pauses to look at his reflection, and frowns. I gotta get some meat on my bones. And do something about this hair. Although, it's useful to hide this damn scar.
Continuing on, the marble of Gringotts Bank eventually came into view. Harry approached the steps, and paused at the goblin guards at the door. Going on a whim, he dropped into a respectful quarter bow before moving on. The two goblins exchanged looks, and one of them hastily slipped in through a hidden passage. Meanwhile Harry continued inside, getting in line for one of the few tellers available at this time of morning. Even if I can't access my vaults without the key, I can at least exchange the money I have and hope it will be enough for a few days.
As the line got closer, Harry got more nervous. But as the teller opened, he stood up straighter and approached the goblin. Giving another bow, the goblin looked mildly surprised but nodded his head in recognition. "A bit young to be on your own aren't you boy?" Harry merely shrugged. "I had to escape my living situation with haste... I saw an opportunity, and took it. Now, I don't have a key, that's assuming I have a vault... And if necessary I have some muggle money to convert that might last for a while. But I am hoping we can sort this out quickly. I believe the expression is, Time is money."
Before the goblin could respond, a door nearby opened and another goblin in a suit walked towards them flanked by several armed guards. Oh this isn't happening. The last thing I need is someone saying my name and alerting Dumbledore. However, it would seem the goblin understood discretion, as he stopped with a small bow of his head. "Excuse me young man, as you came here unsupervised we of Gringotts wish to have your business in the privacy of an office. Please come with me." Not believing his luck, Harry followed the goblin to an office with a pair of heavy double doors. Inside another much older goblin was seated behind a desk, and looked up as they entered.
"Ah, thank you Griphook... Welcome Mr. Potter. Oh yes, we know who you are. I am Ragnok, director of Gringotts Bank, and leader of our clan. To hear of such a young wizard on his own is rare. One who shows our people respect is even more so..." Ragnok chuckles at the look of surprise on Harry's face and gestures for him to have a seat, as another goblin brings in a tray of drinks. After taking the bottle of what he recognized as chilled butterbeer, Harry relaxed slightly as Ragnok stirred his cup of tea.
"So, tell me then Mr. Potter... What can Gringotts do for you today?" Harry paused in thought before responding. "I suppose I am here to see if I can access anything that might have been left for me by my parents. I don't have a key, but I presume there are ways to verify my identity and obtain a new one? If not I have some muggle money I'd like to exchange. Though I don't see why you would have to do it yourself director. After all, my family likely had their own accountant for this very reason."
After giving Harry a long appraising look, the old goblin started to laugh. "I find it amusing that even when being cheeky, you show respect to my position and my people. I like that." He snaps his fingers and the secretary hands him a folder wrapped and bound in a thick ribbon. "This here is a record of all the Potter accounts and holdings. I am surprised you and your guardian did not come in when we started sending you statements on your sixth birthday, as is tradition for heirs of ancient and noble houses."
At this, Harry frowned and sat forward. "I have yet to receive any mail, from anyone. The only reason I am here now is because I have a gift of sorts. The muggle term I believe is eidetic memory. The muggles who raised me, my mother's sister and her husband... They told me nothing of my magical heritage, and treat me like a slave... For the past ten years my bedroom has been a cupboard under the stairs off the sitting room..." With a snarl, Ragnok stood, his hands flat on his desk. "Mr. Potter, if what you say is true... Then this is a massive breach of contract for your magical guardian... Earwick, bring me the Potter will... I want to see who is to blame for this."
The goblin quickly fled the room, and Ragnok took his seat to angrily huff and sip at his tea. "Might as well relax and enjoy your drink Mr. Potter. He will be a bit. In the meantime we can discuss what is rightfully yours..." Opening the folder, Ragnok reads over the initial document. "What I can tell you, is that you have a trust vault in your name until you are seventeen, the age of majority in the magical world. And upon that date you will have access to the full Potter accounts, which I cannot disclose to you at present time. Unless the will were to state otherwise of course."
Several minutes later the secretary returns, and whispers something into Ragnok's ear. The elder goblin waves him away, looking annoyed, before turning back to Harry. "Well it would seem that the will was sealed. The ministry has the only copy on file, and unless the head of your house steps up to request it opened, we can do nothing. This certainly complicates things..." Harry gives him a questioning look. "I don't suppose I could become head of my house?" Ragnok chuckles again. "You have a pair of iron balls on you boy. Aye, we can hire a solicitor to represent you to the ministry and state your case for emancipation. Just one tiny problem. Your magical guardian is likely to be your greatest opposition, as he's the one who sealed the will and put you with the muggles."
Harry sighs at this, knowing just who it is. But he had to keep up the act, so he turns to Ragnok and raises an eyebrow. "Who is it?" The goblin frowns and sighs. "The Supreme Mugwump, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore." He knew the answer, but that didn't make it any easier for Harry to hear. He only had one response to that. Fuck.