Chapter 18: Down the Alley (Part 1)
We traveled by bus to the street where the Leaky Cauldron was hidden, one of the three major entrances in the muggle world to the hidden magical world within London. Before entering, however, I took Harry to a convenience store and bought him a baseball cap to hide his highly recognizable hair and scar. Then, feeling he was as ready as he'd ever be, I led him into the pub.
Despite the dim lighting and dingy atmosphere, the Leaky Cauldron was actually a very clean and professional place. Spells like Scourgify certainly helped with the cleanliness. In addition to the bar and dining area, it had three large fireplaces designed for floo travel in one corner, and a staircase that led to three floors full of rooms to rent. Again, thanks to magic, you'd never know those extra floors were there, looking in from the outside.
I let Harry soak in the atmosphere for a bit, and glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention. We were dressed as muggles, so we got a few looks, but were quickly ignored. Most of the people in the pub were having a late breakfast, early lunch, or some brunch, and were wearing robes.
Once I felt Harry had seen enough of the pub, I led him to the doorway that led to the Alley proper.
"Now, normally you need a wand to enter Diagon Alley, but there are work arounds for that," I said, tapping the ring I was wearing against the bricks in the proper configuration. Runic symbols covered the ring, and its magic allowed me to mimic what usually required a wand to do.
As for what the ring itself did, it granted a passive cleanliness bonus to me, making it harder for dirt to stick to my skin, hair, or clothing. Something like a glob of mud could still overwhelm the aura of cleanliness, but it was easier to get the stains out.
"This is Diagon Alley, one of four magical 'streets' that encompasses the largest population center of Magical Britain," I explained as we stepped through the sliding wall of bricks. "There's Horizont Alley, which is connected to the Ministry of Magic, Vertical Alley, which is connected to St. Mungos Hospital, the main medical and health center for Magical Britain, and last and certainly least, Knockturn Alley, which has turned into a haven for the inevitable criminal underbelly. These four streets intersect each other in a square shape, with all but the latter street having a direct access route to the non-magical side."
"Whoa!" Harry whispered in awe.
"Yeah, it's pretty great. Diagon Alley has the most shops and businesses out of any of the four streets, the legal ones at least. Horizont Alley has mostly apartments and townhouses where the members of the Ministry and shop owners live, and Vertical Alley is a bit more upper class, with better shops, restaurants and such. It's also where a few parks can be found, alongside a small public library and a daycare center for magical children too young to attend Hogwarts whose parents work during the day," I said, letting him know about the streets. "Don't go down Knockturn Alley. Like I said, it's full of crime. Not everyone who lives there is bad, of course, but you're ten times more likely to be mugged down there than anywhere else in here."
I then clapped my hands to get Harry's attention. "First stop! The bank," I said with much less enthusiasm than I was faking.
"Why the bank?" he asked.
"You didn't think your parents left you nothing, did they?" I responded. "The Potters weren't super wealthy, but they definitely were in the top percentile. Plus, they're old money, so even if they had no liquid assets, they'd still have a ton of magical artifacts and whatnot you could use. We're going to get the goblins to make you a key to register you to your vault, prove who you are, etc."
I then led the overwhelmed boy through the streets to the Gringotts building, which was as big and imposing as ever. I'd only been there once before in this life, but it looked almost identical to the version from the movies.
Inside the marble-floored atrium, we got in line to speak with a teller. It took a few minutes, but since it was still early the line moved quicker than I expected.
"Morning," I said politely to the goblin, who sneered down at me from his podium.
"How may Gringotts help you today?" he asked, his voice slippery and oozing with false sincerity.
"I'd like to speak to an account manager about getting a Vault Key, as well as verifying the status of a few other matters for the boy with me," I replied calmly, not letting my emotions show.
Fun fact! Humans are one of the few animals in nature where smiling is considered a sign of friendship. Goblins did not smile when happy. They sneered so much because it was the only way they knew how to replicate the concept of 'smiling' their human clients desired.
By keeping my expression blank, I was doing my best to respect the goblin before me. After all, they still considering frowning to be offensive. And as much as I found goblins weird and distasteful, that was no reason to be rude. Especially not when trying to do business with them.
"Do you have proof of identification?" the goblin asked, still leering.
"{I invoke the Right of Sanctuary on the grounds of denying my enemies and his the satisfaction of controlling our fortunes,}" I responded, while also placing a silver sickle coin in front of him. However, I did so in Gobbledygook, the guttural goblin tongue. My accent was atrocious, but I managed to say what I wanted clearly, and it was enough to shock the smirk right off his face.
I watched, amused, as his eyes widened and his long ears and pointy nose twitched erratically, the surest signs of surprise a goblin could give, short of vocally gasping.
"I see," the goblin teller said slowly, clearly intrigued. He rang a bell, and another goblin ran up beside up.
"Take these two to see Mudclaw," the teller ordered, and the runner, a younger goblin, likely an intern, nodded and beckoned for us to follow.
"What language was that?" Harry asked as we walked down marbled halls.
"Gobbledygook, the goblin's native language," I replied. "It's a complex language and I'm pretty sure I butchered it, but nothing says 'respect' like speaking to someone in their mother tongue. Plus, very few wizards bother to speak it, so it's a great way to keep secrets from 'em."
"Huh. Neat," Harry said, nodding along. "I can speak to snakes. Does that mean snakes are people, too?"
The goblin in front of us tripped and stumbled a bit at that, no doubt surprised as I was by Harry's claim.
"It's a talent known as Parseltongue, and no, snakes aren't actually secretly intelligent. It's just the language itself is magical and bestows a minute amount of awareness to the snake in question so it actually can answer and obey you," I replied, keeping my expression calm. "Some say Parseltongue was invented by a race of magical snake-people, the Naga, but since they're extinct and have been for over a thousand years, I suppose no one knows for sure."
I tilted my head to the side. "How did you find out about your snake-talking ability, anyway?"
"Oh, recently I went to the zoo for Dudley's birthday. There was a big snake in the reptile house and I was able to communicate with it. And, err, I accidentally freed it with some accidental magic," Harry admitted with a blush.
"Huh. Neat," I muttered. So that hadn't changed from canon, then. "Might want to keep it on the downlow, though. Wizards in England – and Europe in general – see it as a Dark ability."
"Why?" Harry asked, confused.
"Because Moldyshorts was a Parseltongue, and so was Salazar Slytherin, and a really nasty dude named Herpo the Foul. They kinda ruined it for everyone by being evil."
Ahead, the goblin snorted in amusement at that.
"Of course, there are places where being a Parseltongue is considered a good thing," I continued, making sure Harry didn't feel bad about his gift. "In India, they revere snakes as divine entities and bringers of rain and fortune. Same in some places of Africa and the Americas as well. Those who can speak to them are treated highly, and well respected outside of the so-called 'Western World.'"
"So, it's not a bad thing?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Absolutely not!" I said firmly. "Never think that any part of you is bad or evil or wrong, Harry. People here in Magical Britain have heavy prejudices towards that which they see as 'Dark' due to their history, both recent and ancient. For now, having people know you can do something 'Dark' would be bad. They can be as fickle and quick to shun as they are to praise. They're basically sheep with superpowers."
Again, the goblin runner escorting us choked out a laugh before stopping in front of a door.
"We're here," he said simply, and I flipped him a silver sickle as a tip. Goblin society revolved heavily around tips. You were expected to do it for practically everything.
He bobbed his head at me, surprised by my gesture, then wandered off to do something else. I led Harry into the room without knocking. Another cultural difference. You didn't knock on doors and wait to be let in, you just went in, especially if you were already expected.
"I am Mudclaw, Senior Account Manager for Gringotts," the goblin at the desk in the office we entered said crisply. "You wish to register a Vault Key?"
"For my friend," I said, gesturing to Harry as we sat down in a pair of comfy chairs.
"And your friend is?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Take off your hat," I told Harry, and he did so, revealing his messy black hair and scar to the world. Mudclaw hissed in shock, ears and nose twitching madly.
"I know Harry is too young to have access to his family's vault, but I believe his parents set up a Trust Vault for his schooling and such," I said, speaking as if I hadn't shocked the goblin out of his wits. "Unfortunately, we don't trust his current guardians, magical or otherwise, to do the right thing. As such, I want the Rite of Sanctuary to be invoked, so both of us are protected."
"You even know about the Rite," Mudclaw whispered in surprise, schooling his expression as he did so. "Who are you?"
"Just a Squib with too much time on his hands and plenty of old books to read," I replied with a smirk. And having a red-headed friend who worked as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts didn't hurt, either. "And, above all that, Harry Potter's friend."
Harry nodded in agreement at that, and Mudclaw glanced between us before sighing.
"Very well. Let us begin with getting the boy a key for his Trust Vault."
This process involved a bit of blood from Harry – partly to ensure he was, in fact, Harry Potter, and partly to infuse his magical signature into the key itself, which was a study, solid iron mass.
It was heavy, and yet Harry was able to hold it easily. Some documents also needed signing – also from Harry, and in blood as well.
Then, once that was done, Mudclaw provided a statement on the status of Harry's Trust Vault.
"You won't be able to access the main Potter Family Vault until you turn seventeen," Mudclaw informed Harry. "However, your Trust Vault is connected to it, and is filled with one thousand galleons a year on your birthday. You currently have fifteen thousand galleons in the vault, which is ten years plus the initial five thousand your parents put in when you were born."
I held back the urge to whistle. That was seventy-five thousand pounds in muggle money! And fifteen thousand galleons was nothing to sneeze at, either. Most of the lower and entry-level ministry workers only made five thousand galleons a year, and even upper-ranked managers might only earn ten to twelve thousand a year, assuming they didn't take any bribes. Prices were a lot cheaper in the magical side of things compared to the muggle one, however, which was great for some things, like my budding potion business.
Harry just nodded, stunned to have any amount of money to call his own. Mudclaw then gave a short overview of the status of the Potter family finances, simply informing Harry that Lily Potter, his mother, had invested well after marrying James Potter. She'd been more financially savvy than her husband, which made sense based on what I knew of the two.
"Now, since I invoked the Rite of Sanctuary to do this, none of his 'guardians' will know he has access to his Trust Vault?" I queried as the meeting came to an end.
"Naturally," Mudclaw scoffed, as if offended I'd even asked.
"{Good,}" I hissed out in Gobbledygook, placing a fat, golden galleon on his desk. "It's been a pleasure to work with you. May we ask for your services again in the future?"
"I will have to consult with the Potter Account Manager, but I see no reason why we cannot do further business," Mudclaw said gravely, and I nodded at that.
"Then I wish you a good day," I said. "{May gold and glory grace your clan.}"
"What's the Rite of Sanctuary?" Harry asked me as we left the office, quickly fastening his hat back over his head.
"It's a Rite to protect children like yourself," I replied. "If I had reason to believe someone would abuse their relationship with you to get at your money, I could invoke it. It can only be invoked once a year per person, but for the next eleven months, no one will be able to touch your vault or even ask about it, except for you. You'll need to invoke the Rite again next year yourself to keep anyone from using your money or your parents'. This can be done until you turn seventeen, which is the age of adulthood in the magical world and would mean you can take control of all of your family's assets."
"And that's it? Anyone can claim this Rite to protect their money?"
"Hardly. Like I said, only children, or the vaults of children, are eligible. And by invoking it, I am putting myself under a magical oath. I claimed that, if your family or legal guardians knew of your wealth, they'd steal it using whatever means they could. If I was lying, the oath and the Rite would trigger, and I'd basically forfeit my own wealth," I replied. "I have a small amount of money in a vault here, so that's the collateral being used for the Rite."
I then gave Harry a stern look. "Besides, can you honestly say that the Dursley's wouldn't try and get you to cough up an unreasonable amount of money as 'payment' for raising you?"
Harry looked down, unable to say anything against my statement.
"And that is why I was confident that invoking the Rite wouldn't be problem," I said dryly. "Anyways, now that we have your key, we can use that as a sort of debit card, or check, or IOU, or whatever you want to call it, to pay for things in the Alley."
At that, Harry perked up excitedly.
"Come on, I've got plenty of places to show to you," I said with a grin. "Now, we won't buy any of your school supplies while we're here, we'll leave that for this Friday with the Grangers. But I think we can grab a few things."
We browsed the stores, enjoying the atmosphere. There weren't many people out and about at the moment, so Harry and I got to see all sorts of things without worrying about getting in other people's way.
The Quidditch shop natural caught his eye, and the toy stores dazzled him. I couldn't help but laugh as he gawked at the candy store, or when his eyes bugged out when he saw a poster advertising the latest 'Adventures of Harry Potter' children's book.
Our first stop was the potion supply shop. I'd been teaching Harry how to brew for a few months now, and was feeling confident in his skills. I discreetly made sure to point out certain things, like what bezoars were and where they came from, what wormwood was and what it was good for, and how monkshood and wolfsbane were technically the same thing, just with different names. I also grabbed some ingredients so we could practice together later in the week.
Next, we went to the luggage store to grab an enchanted rucksack to put our stuff in. It could hold five times its apparent volume and was quite sturdy, as well as dirt resistant and waterproof. It didn't preserve what you put inside it, though, or reduce the weight. That was a set of much more expensive enchantments. Still, I knew a few Featherweight runes I could slap onto it without compromising the integrity of the expansion charm, so that wasn't too much of an issue. Harry also got an enchanted trunk, similar to what Moody had, but smaller and with only two compartments. It looked like an old-fashioned steamer trunk, and had wheels for extra mobility.
The third store we made purchases in was the candy shop, obviously. Harry bought a bunch of treats and snacks. Some to share with Sam, others to try himself. And with the magical rucksack, Harry could hide them from his glutton of a cousin and actually have some food outside of meals for once.
Last but not least, the pet shop was where we were going to make our final set of purchases. As we stepped in, the musty mix of animal scents greeted us.
"What are we doing in here?" Harry asked, curious.
"I need to pick up a toad or two," I said, looking down at their selection of amphibians.
"Toads are one of the three acceptable pets you can take to Hogwarts," I began to explain when I saw Harry's confused face. "Do you know why?"
"No, why?" Harry asked.
"Because toads, owls, and cats are all magical. Or, at least, have the potential for it," I replied. "Toads are useful for potion makers like myself because you can test your concoctions on them without worry, thank to their unique properties. Anything you do to a toad with a potion, as long as it doesn't kill them outright, will be reversed over time. Draught of Living Death? They'll wake up from it in a couple days. Wart remover? Their bumps will just grow back in a couple hours. Turn one of them blue with pink polka dots or into wood by accident? Don't panic, it'll be back to its original form soon."
"Whoa, that seems really useful," Harry said in surprise.
"Toad-ally," I said. Harry groaned at the terrible pun and I just laughed.
"Next on the list there are owls. Smart and majestic, they also make for brilliant messengers, able to find anybody even if they've never met them before in order to deliver mail and packages. Pretty much every magical household has at least one," I went on. "As for cats, they're unique in that they are able to sense when magic is being used. You can turn into someone else with Polyjuice or cover yourself up with a disillusionment charm, but a cat will always see through them and recognize you. And they can become as smart as owls if they have some kneazel blood in them."
"Huh, that's neat!" Harry said, looking around at the pets in a new light.
"And now that I've picked out my new toad, it's time for me to get you something," I said, selecting a plump green toad with yellow-brown bumps on his back.
"Wait, what?" Harry asked, surprised. "You don't have to do that!"
"I really do," I replied firmly, looking around the store. I soon spotted what – or rather, who – I was looking for.
A gorgeous snowy owl was sitting on a stand, watching me and Harry closely. It was bigger than I thought it would be, but I knew it – no, she – was the one. I approached her, admiring her for a moment.
"Hey there, pretty lady," I said in greeting. "I saw you taking a peek at me and my friend."
The owl let out a "Prek!" in response.
"Lovely! Would you like to be his friend?" I asked, gesturing to Harry, who was standing rooted to the floor. One of the witches manning the counter was watching the interaction with interest, and she gasped in awe when the owl flew off her perch over to Harry's shoulder, where she sat down, claiming it as her own spot.
"I think she likes you," I said, teasing Harry. He blushed red, but hesitantly reached out to stroke the owl's chest feathers. She let him, and the witch smiled widely.
"I've never seen her act so docile around someone before!" she gushed. "Your little brother must have a way with animals!"
"He really does," I said proudly, not bothering to correct her. "I'll take the toad, and he'll take the pretty lady. Do you have a cage and some care supplies for both of them?"
Ten minutes later we left the store, me with little Duncan in his glass container, Harry with Hedwig in her birdcage, and some owl care products in his rucksack.
Harry had named her on the spot in a sort of trance, still unable to get over how amazing the bird was, or that I'd gotten her as a gift for him.
"Thank you, Edward," Harry said as we walked towards the Leaky Cauldron for lunch.
"No problem, Harry, it's your birthday, after all," I said fondly in response.
We spent the rest of the day out having fun in the muggle side. It was a bit awkward to walk around with a caged owl and toad, but we only got a few weird looks as we traveled through London. I took Harry to Harrods for some new clothes, and then we ate a bunch of popcorn at the movies. And then it was off to the Grangers for dinner.
Sadly, all good things come to an end, and we took the bus back to Privet Drive after a lovely evening with the dentists and their daughter, Harry growing quieter as we got closer to his 'home.'
We got off and walked up to his house, where I knocked on the door. It opened, revealing Mrs. Petunia Dursley's horsey face. She glared down at Harry, not noticing me at all.
"Where have you been?!" she nearly shrieked, only the thought of her neighbors noticing keeping her voice down to reasonable levels. "You think you can skip out on your chores whenever you want?"
As Harry shrunk in under her verbal assault, I stepped forward.
"Hello, ma'am," I said with as much false politeness as I could muster. "I was just bringing Harry back from shopping. In Diagon Alley. After he got his letter from Hogwarts."
Petunia Dursley paled immediately and choked a bit as her words she'd been about to shout at me got stuck in her throat.
"Wh-what?" she uttered.
I grinned, and then flashed her a stick I'd picked up from one of the lawns. She went even paler somehow at the sight of it.
"Harry, why don't you go in and get yourself settled," I suggested. "I believe there is a spare bedroom up on the second floor you can use? It only has some useless garbage in there that can be moved out."
He stared at me, and I just nodded, gesturing for him to go inside the house.
"Who are- You can't do that!" she spluttered as Harry slowly went upstairs.
"Mrs. Dursley, are you an idiot?" I asked sharply, all niceness in my tone vanishing, replaced with blunt, cold words. "Did you really think we wouldn't find out about how you are treating Harry Potter? Your own flesh and blood?"
"I-I don't…"
"How dare you make a child live under the stairs all these years?!" I seethed furiously, cutting her off with a swish of my fake wand, causing her to flinch. "Ordering him around, barely feeding him… you do realize these are all crimes, correct? Even in the non-magical world! I could have you and your whale of a husband arrested right now by the police for child endangerment! Hell, I could probably argue for two cases of that, given how morbidly obese your son is!"
I took a menacing step forward, and she took a terrified step back. "Listen to me closely, you horse-faced bint! Things are going to change around here. Harry will not be sleeping under the stairs. He will have a real bed in a real room. He will not be wearing that pig's hand-me-downs, but actual, fitting clothes! He will receive full meals, the same as your two lard-asses. He can still do chores, but you cannot force him to do everything, nor can you expect him to work to the point of exhaustion! And If I catch even a hint of you, your son, or your husband physically hurting him? I will have you clapped in irons faster than you can say, 'Scotland Yard!' Am I understood?"
"Y-yes, sir!" Petunia stammered tearfully.
"Good," I snarled. "I am being extraordinarily lenient towards you. And that is only because Harry Potter is safe inside these walls due to a powerful spell keeping him – and you – safe from those who murdered his mother and father. If it were up to me, I'd convict you to the fullest extent of both worlds' laws!"
"Now, Harry has received his owl from Hogwarts. He will be going to school there come September. You now only have to see him over the summer, and even then, for only two or three weeks at the least, in order to keep the wards stable. Can you do that? Can you accept these changes, or do I have to get magical?" I demanded, forcing my Occlumency to the fore to cool down. When Petunia nodded wordlessly, I shot her a grim smile.
"Wonderful! I have to go now, but I will be picking up Harry again early this Saturday around eight am or so. He has a meeting with a professor from Hogwarts so he can get his school supplies. Don't worry, you don't have to pay for them. The money situation is being handled." I then gave her a mocking bow. "Have a pleasant evening, ma'am. And don't forget to tell your husband and son about what I said."
With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving the shrew to her mental breakdown. I had been absolutely serious when I told her I was going to have her suffer if she dared to backslide and try to abuse Harry in anyway. Screw Dumbledore's plan, I was going to wreck them if they stepped out of line!
As I walked back to the bus stop, I passed by Mrs. Figg's house, and saw her staring out her window at me in shock. I merely gave her a grin and a jaunty wave, tossing my 'wand' into her yard, before strolling away, whistling the Harry Potter theme song.
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Author's Note:
Happy Labor Day, everyone! Hope you like this early chapter!
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