Flying was pure freedom. Wind whipped through his hair as Harry flew across the pitch in the early dawn. The sun was just beginning to rise above the treeline, illuminating the goal post just ahead of him. He hurtled towards it, leaning down and accelerating the broom beneath him. With a slight shift to the left, he swung out, just missing the post, and looped around it in a tight arc. A second later, he was rushing back down the pitch with the sun in his eyes.
The Nimbus was fast, and moved with the slightest touch. He'd nearly fallen four times before he managed to figure it out. Since he had, he'd pushed himself to the limit flying around the pitch.
Everything faded into nothing when he was up in the air on a broom. All the questions that haunted him for the last two weeks were gone. None of the complicated feelings existed. There were no overly complex social rules he barely understood. He didn't have to hide in a dusty storage room that sometimes made him feel as though he'd never left the cupboard, regardless of the size difference. When he was on a broom, there was no Alex with his relentless bullying that only got worse the longer Harry was in the house. There was no James with all the secrets Harry knew he was hiding and the half truths, regardless of the relationship they were slowly building. None of the looks Harry couldn't decipher or the waves of guilt so strong conversations fizzled into nothing under it. All the things Harry was keeping to himself disappeared too.
The sun rose higher into the sky, and Harry descended to the ground with a sigh. Breakfast would be served soon, and two hours, give or take, of flying was exhausting.
That first day, he couldn't have imagined just how intense flying could be. His thighs ached from gripping the handle, and his arms felt like jelly, and for the past four days, he'd felt as though he'd spent each morning doing a thousand sit-ups.
"Keep it up, and you'll be walking in here wearing a red and gold kit in a couple of years," James said when Harry finally joined him for breakfast.
He hadn't changed out of the sweat soaked grey and black Quidditch practice kit James had given him the day after the party. The day he'd taught Harry to fly.
Although, teach was being generous. Harry had been off like a bullet the second James had let him. He'd gone through every step, every move, as though it were instinct. A natural, James had called it. When Alex joined them with his own broom not long after, the three of them spent half of Sunday doing Chaser drills. Even with Alex complaining about how he preferred Seeker to Chaser the entire time, it had been the best day he'd had since coming to Linweald.
"Red and gold?" Harry asked.
"Gryffindor's colours," James said as they tucked into breakfast.
"I thought you said I'd likely go to Ravenclaw," Harry said cautiously.
"That's what Remus believes. We Potter's though, we're Gryffindors through and through. I think it was, oh, three hundred years ago the last time a Potter went to a different house."
A thought passed through Harry's head.
"I do suppose Remus's theory has some merit. I could just as likely see you in blue and bronze."
Harry let out a sigh of relief when James seemed to just accept it.
Then James added, "Although, when you make their team, I'll just have to keep my best tricks to myself. Gryffindor team secrets."
"When?" Harry asked.
"You're probably going to be one of the best flyers of your generation. I think, whichever house you go to, they'd have to be daft not to put you on the team."
"You think I'm that good?" Harry asked, beaming. He'd never been told he was good at anything.
"I think you're better. If.." He trailed off.
"If?"
"It's not important," James said and changed the subject.
Harry finished his breakfast quickly, he could fill in the if himself. He was rushing downstairs before James left for work.
He'd been getting better at avoiding Alex. Without James around, Alex was relentless with his scathing comments and cruel pranks.
The only thing Harry had come to not like about the basement was the lack of bathroom. He liked the ability to have regular showers without time constraints. He didn't like wearing his new clothes dirty from flying, but he hated wearing dirty clothes more.
He read until Mippy delivered his nine o'clock pot of tea, Harry went back to exploring. He'd tried to get Mippy to help him through the two locked doors, but according to her, only a wizard could undo the spell that kept them locked. And the door without a knob required a password to open it. Unfortunately, she didn't know it.
She was, however, able to move the fallen debris that blocked the last door. Behind it was the largest storage room so far. It was at least double the size of his hideout and dustier too, Piles of stuff tumbled haphazardly all around him.
Sorting through everything was a pain, but he added at least fifty new books to his collection, which Mippy promptly relocated for him. There were three pouches filled with large golden coins. Mippy explained they were galleons.
Beneath the largest pile was a small black, leather bound journal with some sort of strange slash marks in place of letters or numbers on all the pages.
When he found the box filled with wands, he itched to give them a try.
Mippy's bony hand grabbing him is the only thing that kept him from picking one up.
"No, Master Harry. It be dangerous," she said. "You is an untrained wizard, Little Master, and Mippy is no good at fixing wizard magic."
With a sigh, he managed to forget about the wands, but not without effort.
After lunch, he curled up on the sofa with the Hogwarts prep book Remus had given him. Hogwarts, A History talked about the founding of the school, famous rivalries, the architecture, and mysteries within the school. It spent very little time on the academics. The leaflet just gave a list. But this book, it went into depth not only on what he could expect to learn, but things he should know before arriving. It was filled with quizzes and supplemental reading lists.
He relaxed, jotting down (likely wrong) answers on a piece of parchment from one of the quizzes when a heavy summer storm started up. Unfortunately, he forgot to lock the door, and only noticed when Alex came barging in twenty minutes later.
"So this is the little hole you've been disappearing into," Alex drawled as he sauntered into the room.
He walked around the room, looking at all the different things Harry had collected, and sneered at the dusty old furniture. "This is much more fitting for squibs," he said.
"What do you want?" Harry snapped.
Alex ignored him. He began inspecting the things on the mantle. Two weeks of hard work, exploring the bowels of the manor house and collecting forgotten little treasures, all of it, sitting in the open at his twin's mercy. Alec picked up the small golden dragon. Harry's breath caught as images of Dudley's cruelties flashed through his head.
The day Dudley ripped the head off his beloved stuffed puppy was vividly seared into his memory. They were four years old, and it was Harry's only toy. He'd refused to give it up no matter how many times his aunt tried to toss it. The puppy had been a remnant of the life he'd had before, the one he didn't remember. Dudley had broken his brand new dinosaur, and eyed the puppy hungrily. Harry wouldn't give it up, but Dudley's screaming had brought Aunt Petunia.
"Want it!" Dudley had screamed through tears/
She snatched it from him and handed it to Dudley. Devastated, Harry watched as Dudley happily played with it, tossing it around for over an hour. One moment, it was fine, the next, it was in two pieces, stuffing falling out of the neck. It had promptly gone into the trash after that. Hysterical, Harry had floated the pieces back to himself and cradled it in his hands as he was shoved into the cupboard. He hated them all from that moment on.
Incidentally, it was the first time he remembered being locked in the cupboard. It wasn't the last, just like it wasn't the last time something Harry cherished had been destroyed by Dudley. There had been the coat his reception teacher had given him after she noticed him shivering in his threadbare jumper. Then the brand new schoolbag had gone the same way. It was the last new thing he ever got. More often than not, it was his homework that got ripped to shreds.
But, unlike his cousin, Alex just examined the dragon then plopped it back onto the mantle. He closely inspected the other little figurines.
"Are you collecting broken junk?" he asked incredulously.
Harry glared at Alex, wanting nothing more than for him to go away.
"Oh, this is priceless! Poor little squib, collecting the cast off junk not even good enough for his long dead ancestors," Alex laughed. He tossed the gryphon in the air and caught it.
"Stop!" Harry cried and moved to snatch it back from him.
Alex stepped back and held it out of his reach. "Aw, does poor little Harry want his junk back?"
"If it's just junk, why does it matter to you? Just give it back," Harry snapped.
"Make me," Alex said with laughter.
Harry thought about the sharp knife beneath the sofa cushion. He wanted to plunge it into Alex's arm. He didn't go for it. Instead, he leapt across the table at him.
Alex took off running with Harry hot on his heels. Down the corridor, and halfway up the stairs.
The floo sounded and they both froze.
Alex tossed the gryphon figurine down through the open space between the railings. Harry dove to grab it.
With it safely in his hands, Harry raced back to his hideout. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it. His breath came out in sharp pants.
His eyes darted around the room as he clicked the lock shut. He drug one of the heavy trunks in front of it.
"Mippy?" he called.
It was the first time he'd done it. According to James, he could summon any house elf bound to him or his family just by calling their name with the intent of seeing them. Of course, they had to be relatively close to the elf in question. Harry hadn't had a reason to do it before.
"Master Harry called?" she asked after she appeared in the room a second later. The little elf looked at him, then said, "Oh, Little Master, what has happened?"
"Alex…" Harry started, but he didn't know what to say.
"He is a rude little master. Master Harry is much better," she declared.
Harry gave her a weak smile.
"Can you make it to where he can't get in?" he asked.
She snapped her fingers, then said, "Little Master Alex can't get in now," she declared.
"Thank you," Harry said.
"Master Harry is good now?" she asked.
"Yes."
She popped away, giving him one last sad look before she did.
He collapsed onto the floor and let out a sob. He looked at all the things he'd collected, the books and parchment scattered around the room. His brand new robes peeked out of the wardrobe, and he imagined the damage Alex would inflict on them
Alex rattled the door knob and called out to him. "Come on, little squib, I know you're in there," he said.
He jiggled the knob, and pounded on the door.
"Come out, you little coward," someone not Alex called. Cormac, if Harry guessed correctly.
There was laughter and more beating on the door.
James had lifted his ban on Alex inviting people over after the party, and Cormac and Ernie had been over every day since the party. Alex on his own was bad enough, but paired with his friends, it was too much like being back with Dudley and his horrible friends again for Harry's comfort.
They had a game, Harry Hunting, they called it. On the rare occasions Harry managed to finish the endless list of chores, Dudley and his game of delinquents would hunt him down. They'd chase him all around, in a bizarre version of hide and seek. Harry, who was faster than any of them, usually managed to get away. But the times they did manage to catch him, it usually managed to result in broken limbs.
He'd hoped it was finally over now that he'd left Privet Drive, but Alex seemed to want to recreated the same torture their cousin put him through.
Then again, with magic, there was more for Alex and his friends to do. With Harry not responding, and none of them able to get through the door, they eventually gave up. He listened closely as they thundered up the stairs, likely to go fly now that the rain had stopped.
Gathering himself, he called, "Morgan," and hoped she was close enough to hear.
She came slithering out from a deep crack in the stone wall next to the fireplace, her pupils still dilated with sleep. She'd been getting fatter and napping more since they started exploring the basement. Rats were easier to find in the forgotten spaces than in the perfectly manicured lawns of Privet Drive.
"Where are Hiss and Corra?" he asked her.
"Napping behind the stone fire, Master-Speaker," she said.
"Get them," he ordered.
"Of course, Master-Speaker."
Since coming to Linweald, Corra had become Hiss' shadow, the two of them venturing deeper and deeper into the crevices of the old house. Morgan often followed the younger snakes, but tended to stay closer to him. She still curled up with him as he slept most nights.
She slipped back into the crack, and a moment later came back with the other two trailing behind her.
"It's no longer safe for us down here," he told them.
"Bad egg brother has found nest," Morgan surmised.
"Yes," he told them.
"Where are we going?" Hiss asked.
"I don't know yet. Somewhere safer, hopefully."
He gathered them up, and they coiled around him in their usual spots. He crept into the library. The large windows that looked out over the back garden had a perfect view of the practice pitch in the distance. All three boys were still up in the air, chasing one another around on their brooms.
Harry dashed up the stairs, bypassing the main two floors of the house.
The second floor landing was right off the stairs, smaller than the first floor lounge, but still a large open space. Dust covered white sheets had been tossed over the furniture of what appeared to have once been a small dining area. Ancient children's toys were littered around the area, and calming artwork was still up on the walls.
Four doors immediately led off the space, with another three down a short hall. There was a school room, an old style nursery, a bathroom, and two bedrooms through each of those doors. Like the dining space, each room had cobweb covered white sheets tossed over the furniture while the belongings of those who once lived here had been left abandoned and scattered about. At the end of the hall, the lone door was locked. The door on the left side of the hall led to a large, but sparsely decorated dining room with a shabby sitting area shoved into one corner. Harry thought it may have once been a servants dining room.
Inside the dining room was a small bathroom, through which he was able to access the rear hall behind the locked door. It had five more bedrooms down it, though most had become storage spaces. Two of the rooms though, were still set up, waiting for the day a full staff returned to the house. One held beds and matching furniture for two people, the other was set up for three. That room was the largest, with a small alcove at one end with a window that looked out towards the pond on the western edge of the garden.
It could work, he thought. It was much more complicated to reach, with three doors he could lock between it and the rest of the house. The logistics of transferring all the things he'd acquired would be easy, with Mippy's help.
"Keep out of sight until the elf is gone," he told the snakes and let them scurry away.
He watched for a moment as they began exploring.
"Mippy?" he called again.
When she appeared, he quickly asked if she could move all of his things to the room, the sofa included.
"Of course Mippy can," she said, and vanished.
Harry slipped back down to the basement hideaway to make sure nothing was forgotten.
It took less than thirty minutes for everything to be moved, and with one last check that Alex and his friends were still outside, Harry went back upstairs.
"It smells different up here," Morgan said once they were alone again.
He sat on the hard servant's bed, taking stock of the room and what he would need to properly set it up, and petting her scales.
"Different how?" he asked her.
"Powerful," she said.
"Powerful?"
"I can't explain it, Master-Speaker, but there's something different up here," she said.
Harry accepted it all the more curious.
He took stock of his new hideout. It was cluttered, with the extra furniture. Mippy had deposited all of his things right into the middle of the room, but there was no organisation. His sofa had been deposited right next to a small card table in the center of the room across from the fireplace. There were two beds with matching dressers, night stands and wardrobes in the main space, with a third set up in the alcove.
"It's perfect," he told Morgan.
She gave him a sceptical look.
"It will be, once we set it up and get rid of what we don't need," he assured her.
The bedroom James had given him was for a boy that didn't exist, the one he could have been had he not been thrown away. His basement hideaway had been a place to hide. It was a safe haven for the scared little boy who had been dropped into a world he didn't understand. A place to hide from his unwanted brother.
Alex's room, he was sure, was meant for the heir, but Harry would never really be the heir James wanted. Alex could keep it. This forgotten space though, it was something he could make his own.
More importantly, it had bathroom access without having to venture into his brother's path.
He fell backwards onto the bed, the stress of the day catching up to him, and sent dust flying into the air.
"Sorry," he said through the cough.
"Master-Speaker will make us a warm place to sleep here," Morgan demanded. He didn't argue with her.
When he finally made it downstairs for dinner, after an impromptu nap, Cormac and Ernie were sitting around the table talking animatedly to James and Alex. Harry suppressed a grimace.
It was the most tense dinner to date, filled with sharp words and subtle barbs. What wasn't subtle was the fact that all three of them kept messing with his food, and snickering at everything Harry did.
"Enough!" James shouted after Cormac used his wand to tip Harry's drink into his plate when he went to set the glass down.
Cormac was a year older than the rest of them, and going into his second year at Hogwarts. He was also the only one with a wand, which he'd been using to curse Harry with all through the meal.
All four boys jumped and looked at James.
"Cormac, Ernie, I think it's time you went home," James told them with a glare. "I will be writing to your parents about this."
Both boys at least had the decency to look guilty. Neither of them moved, too stunned at James' tone to move.
James stood up, and said, "Now." He spelled their chairs away from the table, and followed as both of them scrambled out of the kitchen.
When he came back, he turned his wrath on Alex. "Upstairs, now," he told him.
Alex gave Harry a nasty look, and stomped out of the room. James left with him, and Harry could hear shouting as they went.
"I'm sorry," James said when he came back a few minutes later.
Mippy had already cleaned the mess and replaced his plate. She had also cleared the other boys' half eaten dinner from the table.
"I knew Alex wasn't handling any of this well," James told him, "but I wasn't aware of the extent."
James looked fully at Harry, who tried to hold his gaze even though every instinct told him to look away and avoid scrutiny.
"How bad is it?" James asked.
"I've dealt with worse," Harry told him. And he had. Alex was mean, but he had yet to be violent in the way Dudley had been.
James didn't seem to believe him. "This is my punishment for being a right berk when I was his age," James muttered.
They let it go, and finished their meal in silence.
The next day, he didn't even bother with pretending. James looked at him, haunted by things Harry didn't understand, so he ate quickly and fled to his new room as quickly as he could.
He left off reading and spent the day setting the room up. Mippy disposed of the servants' furniture after Harry went through everything. She retrieved his rug from the basement and set it up under the sofa directly across from the fireplace. Bookshelves were appropriated from the school room and lined the right hand wall starting at the door, skipping over the fireplace, and wrapping around to the ornate study desk he'd also had Mippy get. A fancy grandfather clock was brought up from one of the basement storage rooms, much to the displeasure of the little alarm clock. He placed it on the four drawer night stand he'd gotten out of one of the bedrooms. Next to it, in the corner went the softest bed he could find.
Mippy kindly brought up new bedding for it, which contrasted nicely with the deep green of the sofa.
Two more bookshelves, a large display case, and hat stand also found themselves in the room. He found a large mirror, two large armoires, another rug, and a chest of drawers to store his clothing in. A hamper and an elaborate, low coffee table completed the room.
It took hours to pick out and arrange all of the furniture, and James made it home before Harry finished arranging all of his things.
He went to bed exhausted that night, and slept well in his new bed. Being behind four locked doors definitely helped.
Saturday dawned bright and early, bringing a new adventure all together. It was the first time in a week Harry had eaten breakfast with Alex, and the first time they'd seen one another since that awful dinner on Thursday. He spent the entire time shooting Harry hateful looks, but for once, kept his comments to himself.
It wasn't long before they were ushered to the floo, with Alex stepping through firs while James coached Harry on exactly what to do.
Following James's directions very carefully. On the table next to the massive fireplace was a bowl of glittering powder. Harry took a pinch of the powder and threw it into the low flames. They turned a bright, emerald green, almost the same colour as his eyes.
With a steadying breath, and almost shaking with nerves, he stepped into the flames. The fire felt like a warm breeze.
"Let the ash settle," James reminded him.
He nodded and steadied himself.
"Diagon Alley," he called out.
It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant plug hole. The whirl of green flames around him made him feel sick, so he closed his eyes, as he spun faster and faster through…something. There was a deafening roaring in his ears. Something hard knocked his elbow, so he tucked it in tighter, keeping James' instructions in mind. He peeked his eyes open and squinted through his glasses, and saw a blurred stream of fireplaces with hundreds of different rooms beyond.
He prayed for it to stop. Less than a second later, he fell face forward onto a dirty and cold stone floor. His glasses shattered on impact.
Dizzy and bruised, Harry gingerly climbed to his feet, with a slight trickle of blood slipping down his nose. He held his broken glasses up to his eyes, and groaned. His pristine dark violet robes were covered in black soot.
Alex guffawed at him as he scrambled to get away from the fireplace before the flames turned hot again.
They were in a dark and shabby place. A few old women sat in one corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry in the early hour. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A few more patrons were scattered around the room, sitting at various tables, reading the paper over steaming cups of tea. Behind the bar was an old man who was quite bald and looked like a gummy walnut. There was a low buzz of chatter all around them.
Harry took it all in.
James appeared in the floo a moment later. He came out gracefully, stepping out of the fireplace as if he were walking through a door. Harry was jealous.
He waved his wand, and the soot vanished from all three of them, the violet silk glimmered in the low light. He waved his wand again, and Harry's glasses were fixed, even the crack that had been there since he got them vanished. When he put them back on, they were like new.
"I love magic," Harry said.
James laughed. Then he looked at Harry closely, inspecting the glasses. "Can you see out of these?" he asked.
"Mostly," Harry said.
"We'll stop by the Healer's before we leave, get you a pair that actually works," James told him.
"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry," James told him as they began walking through the restaurant.
People started to take notice of them then, and the chatter changed into something different. Anticipation gathered in the air, but before anyone could move, James hurried them along.
He led them through the bar and out a nondescript door into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds.
"Why did we come this way?" Alex asked with disdain.
"According to Lily, it's the traditional way muggleborn witches and wizards are brought to Diagon Alley. I thought Harry might appreciate the tradition," he told them.
Alex harrumphed, but Harry felt oddly appreciative of the gesture.
"Diagon Alley?" he asked and glanced around the dilapidated space.
"Watch," James said.
He tapped one of the bricks with his wand.
The brick he touched quivered then began to wriggle. A small hole appeared in the center of it then grew wider and wider. Within seconds, the entire wall morphed into a large archway with a cobbled street beyond it, which twisted and turned out of sight.
"Lily loved coming this way," James told them. "Said it was how she first glimpsed the Wizarding World, and she fell in love with it all over again every time she came this way.
Harry was awed.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"London, somewhere," James told him. "The alley has been here since before the statute. It's one of the largest and oldest Wizarding districts in the British Isles."
Harry quickly looked over and saw the archway shrink instantly back into a solid brick wall. The morning sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop.
A sign hanging overhead read;
Cauldrons — All Sizes.
Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver
Self-Stirring, Collapsible
"Don't dally, we have a lot to get through today," James said as he rushed them up the street.
Harry turned his head in every direction, wishing he had about a dozen more eyes, as they went, trying to look at everything at once. He knew he was gawking, but he couldn't help himself.
Things moved on their own all around, and the brightly painted buildings had things in their windows Harry could have never imagined. It was still early, but there were people in robes moving every which way, haggling and complaining about things Harry had never heard of.
There was a soft hooting from inside a dark store, which was called Eeylops Owl Emporium, according to the wooden plaque on the door.
The Nimbus Two Thousand James had gotten him and Alex was displayed proudly in the window of one shop, the glittering display drawing attention from everyone passing by.
Shops everywhere had sold robes or telescopes. There were strange silver instruments in one window, and a stack of towering barrels labelled bat spleens and eels' eyes' in another. There were teetering piles of books that threatened to fall over, and reams of parchment. Potions bottles, crystal orbs, and hundreds of other things.
They eventually reached a snowy-white building, which towered over the other shops. It rose into the air where the street they were on veered off to the left, and another street forked right around the bank. Standing beside it's burnished bronze doors was a goblin. He recognized it from the drawings in one of the books on magical races he'd flipped through. It wore a black and scarlet uniform embellished with gold.
It stood about a head shorter than Harry. It looked more human than a house elf, but still other. His grip tightened on the short spear in his hand as they approached. It bowed as they walked inside, but his black eyes watched them with caution.
They entered a small vestibule, which at the other end held a pair of silver doors with words engraved upon them:
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.
A pair of goblins guarded the inside of those doors, and bowed as they passed as well. Like the one outside, they watched with cold, cautious eyes. Beyond was a vast marble hall with about a hundred more goblins sitting on high stools behind two long counters that lined the room. Some scribbled in large ledgers while weighing coins on brass scales. Others examined precious stones through eye glasses. Every one of them watched as Harry passed them.
Leading off the hall were too many doors to count, each one with another goblin guarding it.
James led them to one of the counters.
"Lord Potter to see his account manager," James told the goblin, skipping any pleasantries all together.
"Wand," the goblin demanded.
James handed his over.
The goblin examined it, then said, "Everything seems to be in order, I'll have someone take you back. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin. He led them through a large door off the back of the hall. They followed him up a flight of stairs and down a brightly lit corridor with doors on either side of them.
He stopped abruptly halfway down, and knocked on the door.
"Lord Potter to see you," Griphook said when the door opened.
"Send him in," a voice said. He sounded like another goblin.
He was. He glared at all three of them as they stepped into the small office.
There were two normal sized chairs across from a low desk, which had a small chair behind it. The goblin led them over to it.
James sat down, and Alex claimed the seat next to him. Harry stood awkwardly off to the side.
The goblin glared at James, seeming to dislike him, then peered at Alex and Harry.
"You were expected weeks ago," the goblin said.
"There were some delays, Ulnar," James said.
"So we have noticed," Ulnar replied.
His eyes bored into Harry, ignoring Alex all together after that.
Ulnar pulled forward two long rolls of parchment and a quill. The quill was a sinister dark red with a black nib.
James picked up the parchment and read. He nodded and muttered to himself as he did, the long roll falling to his knees. After he finished, he laid it on the desk and signed without dipping the quill into ink. Then he called Harry over.
"Read this, then sign it," James told him.
"What is it?" Harry asked, not wanting to just sign his name to some unknown paper.
"It's the contract to allow you access to your trust vault."
Over dinner the night before, James had explained a bit more about Gringotts. When a witch or wizard turned eleven, they were eligible to have a vault set up in their name at the bank. It had been seventeen, the age witches and wizards came of age, but and outcry several decades before had allowed accounts to be set up for those of age to own a wand with their parent's oversight. It had mainly come from pro-muggleborn factions, as muggles were not allowed to have a vault at the bank. This allowed parents of muggleborn students to set up vaults in the child's name, and make their transition into the wizarding world easier.
According to James, it was one of the few acts that helped to protect muggleborns that the Traditionalists and Isolationists, two factions within Wizengamot, had unanimously voted on. Not because of the protections, but because it allowed them to set up vaults for their heirs at younger ages.
Harry thought it was brilliant, and spent the night excited about having access to what would essentially be his own bank account.
Unfortunately, the language of the contact was confusing, written in some wizard or goblin legalese. Harry had to keep asking what words or sentences meant as he read. There was nothing nefarious in it, just rules of what could or couldn't be stored in the vault. It explained there would be twenty five hundred Galleons deposited into it a year, with a five hundred Galleon withdrawal limit without James' approval. James, as his parent, had complete oversight on the funds, but Harry could use the gold for almost anything he wanted. And he could deposit any gold he earned into the account. James also wasn't able to take any of the money out without Harry there to authorise it.
When he finally finished, James passed the sinister quill to him and said, "Your full name."
Harry looked at him questioningly.
"Hadrian James," James told him.
It hurt when he signed his name, Hadrian James Potter, in blood red ink.
Ulnar went to say something, but James cut him off by saying, "All done."
The goblin smiled at Harry wickedly, and pulled an iron key from his desk drawer. Then he picked up a sharp looking knife and held his hand out to Harry.
"It's okay," James assured him.
The goblin's bony hand was cold as it wrapped around his arm in a tight grip and pulled the sleeve of his robe up. He quickly slashed the knife across Harry's arm with the dagger, and blood dropped onto the key.
It glowed with golden light a moment before the goblin handed it to him.
"All yours, Heir Potter," Ulnar growled, and waved his hand.
The cut on Harry's arm healed without leaving so much as a smear of blood.
They repeated the process with Alex, who didn't even bother reading his contract, then they were escorted from the room.
Griphook was waiting for them in the hall.
They were led back to the main hall and through another door. Harry expected to see more marble, but was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply as they walked down to where there was a small set of railway tracks on the floor.
Griphook wished, and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. Harry followed James and Alex as they climbed into the cart.
Harry, who had always wanted to ride a roller coaster, imagined that the cart must have been the wizarding equivalent. They hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. He tried to remember the twists and turns, but it was impossible. Griphook wasn't steering the rattling cart, so Harry figured it must know its own way.
Cold air rushed past him, stinging his eyes, but he kept them open, mesmerised by the journey. He was sure he saw a burst of fire in the distance just as they turned a corner. Down they went, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor. Still, they plunged farther down, deeper into the earth.
Harry's and Alex's trust vaults were right next to one another. Vaults 825 and 826 respectively. Green smoke came billowing out as Griphook took their keys and opened the doors, one after another. Inside were mountains of gold Galleons, columns of silver Sickles, and heaps of little bronze Knuts. It was definitely more than he was expecting.
"The vaults were actually set up when you were both born," James told him.
Harry quickly did the maths. There were almost thirty thousand Galleons in there. It was more money than he'd ever seen in his life. It was all his, and it was incredible.
Harry put the five hundred Galleons he was allowed to take out into the black velvet pouch James passed him, while Alex did the same in his own vault.
Then they were climbing back into the cart.
"Potter Family Vault next," Griphook said and they hurtled off.
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed.
The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leant over the side to try and see what was down at the dark bottom. James grabbed him back.
"Don't," James warned. "People have fallen to their deaths from this thing."
When they finally came to a stop, they were deep beneath the ground. There were flashes of fire not far down from where they stopped.
The trust vault was one thing, but the Potter Family Vault was something else entirely. The cavernous space was filled with old furniture and books. Jewels cascaded off shelves set into the stone walls. In between all of it was so much gold that Harry didn't think he'd be able to count it all in a single lifetime. It was so much money, Harry thought he could get lost beneath the piles of coins without trying.
James filled a third pouch with so much gold Harry thought the stitching might give out. But, like the bag he'd been given, it never changed shape or looked the slightest bit fuller.
While he did so, Alex and Harry poked around the stuff at the edges of the piles. James had to warn Alex off touching things four different times.
One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry wanted to run off and buy everything he'd ever been denied with his pouch full of money. He stayed firmly by James' side as they walked down the street to the right.
"Trunks and school bags first, I think," James told them. "I'd rather pack it all away and only shrink one or two items."
Olwyn's Travel Solutions was a luggage shop on Akshoo Alley. It was halfway down the street, cramped between two larger stores and with a burnt orange store front. Inside, it was just as cramped, with trunks and cases stacked floor to ceiling on two different levels. Displays of mundane trunks were paired next to trunks that held entire apartments within them. There were suitcases with so many charms listed on little tags that all the words barely fit.
The shopkeeper was an older woman who directed them to a display of different trunks specially made for students. They all had between one and three compartments, and came standard with expansion charms and security enchantments.
James picked for them, which Harry was grateful for, as he had no idea what would be appropriate. Both of them ended up with deep brown trunks with dark leather and bronze hardware. They had expansion charms on both the standard compartment and the extra storage one. In addition to the standard charms, they came with featherlight charms to make them easy to carry, regardless of how much they packed into them. James had the shopkeep emboss their initials into the fronts of them.
He let them loose on the second floor to pick out school bags. Harry chose a black leather satchel with silver detailing. It had expanded pockets and a honeycomb compartment specially made for carrying scrolls. Like the trunk, it came with a featherlight charm and protective enchantments.
James made Alex go back three times as his choices were either impractical for school use or far too elaborate. Finally satisfied with their purchases, James led them back to the main street.
"Madam Malkin's has an exclusive contract for Hogwarts Uniforms," James explained as they stepped into the shop.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve. "Hogwarts, dears?" she asked as they stepped through the door.
Getting fitted for his school robes wasn't as tiring as the fitting he'd been subjected to before the party. It was still uncomfortable though. He walked out with four black cloaks, two in wool, one in silk, and the other in linen. There were six robes for school in various materials and with a handful of enchantments, along with a dozen white oxford shirts, three black ties with the school crest, and another half dozen pairs of black trousers.
They stopped in Twilfit and Tattings a few doors down to place another order for everyday robes. This time, he didn't have to be measured, as they had his on file. He asked for more of the traditional style robes, as he liked how easy they were to move in. It made James frown, but he didn't say anything.
They stopped into a fancy stationery store to buy parchment and quills. The shop seemed boring until he found a bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote. In the end, he got one along with a myriad of colours in addition to quite a few bottles of black in. He also got several black bound journals for taking notes and a box of two dozen quills. James also grabbed each of them a small knife for sharpening the quills and a handful of silver nibs to make writing easier.
Their school books were bought at Flourish and Blotts, where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling. Books as large as paving stones were right next to ones as small as postage stamps. There were books covered in leather and silk. Some books had what he thought might be runes of their covers. Others didn't have anything at all in them. Every single one was fascinating.
James had to drag Harry way from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.
"I can teach you better prank spells than what's in there," James told him.
He did, however, give them twenty minutes to explore. Harry picked a number of books to buy himself, as James had paid for all of their things so far.
They crossed all across the streets, from one end of Diagon Alley to the other. There was a quick jaunt down Horizont Alley, then they doubled back to Akshoo Alley. He lost count of how many stores they went in and out of as the purchases piled up. In a cobbler's shop in an upscale section on the North end of Diagon Alley, he got three pairs of boots, two leather and one dragon hide, as well as two pairs of black loafers. A set of dragon hide work gloves came from a specialty shop, while two pairs of leather gloves lined with fur for the winter came from another.
They bought collapsible telescopes in a general store, and a potions kit that included a set of crystal vials, knives for chopping, a mortar and pestle, and a set of scales at a shop that made Harry afraid to touch anything. It all came with a leather carrying case.
By the time they reached the apothecary, a place called Neasa's Potions Solutions, most of the things on their school list had been bought, along with dozens of extras.
"Lord Potter, welcome," an ancient wizard said as they stepped into the foul smelling shop.
"Good to see you, Bertrand," James greeted him.
The apothecary was alluring enough to make up for the awful stench, which seemed to be a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. There were barrels of slimy stuff, jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders all lining the walls. Hanging from the ceiling were bundles of feathers, and snarled claws, and strings of fangs. Actual silver unicorn horns were placed on a shelf. Glittery black beetle eyes smaller than peas sat in a deep bucket.
"Everything's all in order for your sons," Bertrand told James as Harry wondered about the store. "Got the standard kit packaged up, including the extra's your grandfather recommends."
"You have my gratitude," James said, and passed a stack of gold to the man.
After that, there was one last shop before lunch.
James, who seemed to hate all the shopping, was much more excited as he dragged them back towards the bank. He pulled them into a narrow shabby shop tucked between a junk shop and a store called Broomstix.
Painted directly on the building above the door in peeling gold letters was Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. In the window, a single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
Somewhere in the depths of the shop, a tinkling bell sounded as they stepped inside. It was a tiny space, made even more so by the wall to wall shelves packed full of slim, dusty boxes. There was a single spindly chair next to a tall counter. Beyond the counter, was a small door.
James plopped himself into the chair and casually waited. Harry felt like he was in a strict library, afraid to even move, for fear of being shouted at by an angry librarian. A host of new questions entered his mind. He remembered the call of the wands he'd found, how they dared him to grab them. That feeling was amplified a hundred times, surrounded by the thousands of little boxes that went so high they were lost into darkness above. Even the dust seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
While he stood still, Alex moved around the shop, reading the small labels on the boxes.
"Good afternoon," a soft voice said.
Harry jumped. An old man had suddenly appeared behind the counter. His wide, pale eyes shone like silver moons in the gloom of the tiny shop.
"Hi!" Alex said.
"Hello," Harry said awkwardly.
The old man just looked at them for what felt like an eternity. "Ah yes," he finally said. "Yes, tes, I thought I'd be seeing the two of you soon."
It wasn't a question. He looked at Alex's forehead, the scar hidden behind his hair. Then he zeroed in on Harry.
"You have your mother's eyes," he said wistfully. "It seems only yesterday she was in here with her dark haired friend, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
"I still have it," James said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Oh yes, James Potter. Mahogany, eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power than necessary, but excellent for transfiguration."
"It's still a good wand, Mr. Ollivander," James said.
Then Mr. Ollivander turned his creepy, silvery eyes to Alex. "And that's where…"
Mr. Ollivander touched the circular scar on Alex's forehead with a long white finger.
"I'm sorry to say, I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…Well, if I'd have known what that was was going out into the world to do…"
He shook his head and then to all of their relief, backed away.
"Well, the wand chooses the wizard, of course. We may not know why a wand chooses who it does. Let's get on with it."
He beckoned Harry forward. "Well now, Heir Potter, let me see."
He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?" he asked.
"Er — well, I'm right handed," Harry said confused.
"Hold out your arm. That's it."
He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow. He measured the distance between the top of his shoulder and the floor. The tape measure wrapped around his head, and measured from his knee to armpit.
As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Heir Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Belatedly, Harry realised the tape measure was flitting around his face, measuring the distance between his nostrils. Mr. Ollivander had moved to the shelves, carefully pulling boxes from the stacks.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled to a heap on the floor. "Right then, Heir Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
If he hadn't seen James using his wand, he'd have felt foolish. He took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it from him almost immediately.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –"
He took the wand, but he hardly raised it before it was being snatched away. "No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.
Harry tried it and a dozen more wands. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands grew and grew. The longer it took, and the more wands that came down, the happier Mr. Ollivander seemed to become.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry took the wand.
It was snatched back a second later. "Not for you, but it was worth a shot," he muttered. He set that wand apart from all the others.
On and on it went, and Harry started to wonder if maybe he was really a squib.
"It's been a long time since I had such a difficult customer. Unique case that one. An aptitude for great magic, but lazy. And at war with his own nature, he told them. "Dogwood and dragon heartstring it was in the end for him."
James tensed from behind Harry and snarled audibly.
"I had great hopes for that wand. Well then, let's see. Ah yes. Let's try this one. Blackthorn, Dragon Heartstring. Eleven and three quarter inches. Hard."
The dark wood was placed into his hand. He felt a sudden warmth spread to his fingers. He waved the wand, slashing it through the air in front of him. Through the dusty air in front of him, silver and gold sparks streamed out from the wand like a firework. The spots of light danced along the walls before fading into nothing.
Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good."
James shifted uncomfortably. "Blackthorn," he hissed.
"Indeed. With a powerful core from a particularly nasty dragon. He was a beautiful creature though."
"But -"
"Now, Lord Potter," Mr. Olliver admonished. "It's a good wand, very powerful. But I will say, the reputation nowadays hasn't been the best. I've sold just as many to good Wixen as I have to those who aren't."
Alex took about half as long as Harry. In the end, he ended up with the holly and phoenix feather wand Harry had been offered.
"Curious…curious…"
"What's curious?" Alex asked.
Mr. Ollivander fixed Alex with his pale hair. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."
Both boys stared at him wide eyed.
"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember … I think we must expect great things from both of our young Mr. Potters. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."
Harry shivered.
"That's enough," James snapped.
Both wands went back into their boxes, which were wrapped in brown paper. James paid seven Galleons for each wand then rushed them out of the store.
"He is never not creepy," James told them as they set off down the street for a late lunch.
After lunch, James set them free in the Alley. "This is a privilege," he said. "You stay together, and don't leave to the muggle side."
Then he turned to Alex. "I expect you to behave, to try and get along with your brother. This is the only chance you're getting. Behave, find something to bond over. You abandon him, and you will be grounded until you pass your OWLs."
He handed them each a hundred Galleons, which Harry promptly slipped into his pouch. He'd barely spend fifty of what he had in there.
"It's two now. The ships begin closing at six. Meet me at Eternelle's at four thirty," James told them.
It took less than ten minutes for Alex to ditch him. Despite being grounded, Alex had somehow managed to arrange to meet Cormac, likely knowing James would let them go off on their own.
No doubt James meant for them to spend the afternoon learning to get along. It was all just as well Alex ran off, because Harry wanted to spend less time than he already did with his brother.
Alone, and with more money than he had ever imagined, Harry wandered from shop to shop, looking at various contraptions. He bought a wireless like Alex had from a second hand shop, and spent fifty Galleons at Obscurus books.
He ducked into what turned out to be a divination shop when he heard Alex's and Cormac's loud laughter as they came out of Quality Quidditch. He left ten minutes later carrying a deck of hand painted tarot cards and a set of bone white runes in Elder Futhark.
Adelaide's Apothecary and Tincture Shoppe sold beauty supplies and soaps, and Harry had a blast picking out different soaps and a potion, Sleakeasy's, that the witch behind the counter promised would tame his unruly hair.
He bought an engraved silver pocket watch, which fit nicely into the pocket of his robe, at Weston's Clever Clocks.
Just as he was walking out the door, a girl with pale blonde hair slammed into him. The packages in both of their hands went flying.
"Watch it, Potter," she snapped in a contemptuous voice.
"Uh, sorry?" Harry said as he bent down to gather both of their things.
The younger girl bent down to help him, while the one he ran into stood there tapping the toe of her black leather heels.
"Astoria," she hissed.
Harry glanced up. When his eyes met the bright blue of the girls, she gasped.
"You're not Alexander," she said, her voice less cold.
"Er, no," Harry said with a sigh.
People knew who Alex was on sight, had stared at them all day as they moved about through the different streets. Harry heard their whispers about them on the corners and from outside shop windows. Everywhere they went, shopkeepers fell over themselves to help out the Potters, sometimes to the neglect of their other customers. It was unnerving.
All of them did double takes, unsure of which of the twins was the famous one. Even after separating from Alex and James, people still instinctively thought he was his twin. He wondered if that was what the rest of his life would look like. Would he spend every moment being mistaken for his supposed brother. Having to deal with fawning over him only to turn cold when they figured out who he was. To constantly be disliked on sight because Alex was such a prat to almost everyone their age.
Harry passed the girl her things as he stood up.
She accepted them, then said, "Daphne Greengrass, Heir to House Greengrass." With her hands full, she inclined her head to him.
"Harry Potter," he introduced himself.
"Well met, Heir Potter," she said, putting emphasis on his name. "This is my sister, Astoria Greengrass." She gestured to the younger girl.
"Uh, well met," Harry said.
"Our apologies for knocking you over," Daphne said.
"It was my fault. I'm a bit lost, and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
"So, Heir Potter," Daphne said as they began walking down the street, "What brings you out of hiding after so long?" she asked.
"School shopping," Harry told her.
"Aren't we all," she said. Then she said, "To make up for my awful manner's maybe I can help. Where are you headed?"
"Eternelle's," he told her.
"It's at the center of Carkitt Market," she told him.
Harry had no idea where that was.
Upon seeing his confusion, she said, "This way, Heir Potter. My sister and I will escort you."
"Harry, please."
"Daphne then." She turned back to the little girl standing beside her and said, "Come along Astoria."
As they walked down the winding paths, the two of them talked, with Astoria interjecting with her own bubbly thoughts. Most of her questions were the same ones Neville had asked. Though, he remembering Neville's words about scandals, and not wanting the attention or having to explain things, Harry minced his words and talked around where James had been hiding him.
Daphne talked about her encounters with Alex over the years, and told him that people loved Alex right up until the moment they met him. Cormac and Ernie were really his only friend as hardly anyone their age liked the other boys.
Carkitt Market was a large, outdoor arcade with a wrought iron canopy rising over it, right at the end of Akshoo Alley. The shop facades were all Victorian style, with the buildings painted over in bright technicolour. Plants grew all over in little spaces, surrounding dozens of small groupings of tables scattered around. In the center was a small Gothic building with a sign that read Eternelle's Elixir of Refreshment on the front of it. James was standing next to it. He was looking back and forth between the watch on his wrist and the entrance of the market.
Relief washed over his face as Harry and the girls approached him.
"Thanks, Daphne," Harry said.
"It was my pleasure, Harry. I'll see you on the train, I hope," she said.
"I look forward to it."
She looked up at the large clock at the top of the little building, and turned to her sister. "We're going to be late, come on," she said.
"Bye Harry!" Astoria called brightly as they walked away.
"Making friends?" James asked.
"Maybe. I didn't know where I was supposed to meet you. Daphne helped me."
"Where's Alex?" James asked.
"He saw Cormac right after we left and ditched me," Harry said honestly.
James scowled.
It took another fifteen minutes for Alex to turn up. James bought Harry a fizzy drink from the shop while they waited.
When Alex finally came s tolling up, he was alone.
"Where have you been, Harry? I was looking for you everywhere," Alex lied.
"Looking for him?" James shouted, causing all the people around them to look over. "After you left your brother on his own to hang out with the friends you AREN'T ALLOWED TO SEE!"
Alex at least managed to look ashamed, and didn't argue. He looked like he wanted to disappear, with all the people staring at them.
"We'll discuss this at home. We still have a few more stops to make," James said angrily and dragged them into a barber shop.
Harry picked a longer hairstyle, different from the one James and Alex had. Alex seemed to like showing his scar off, but Harry preferred to keep his lightning bolt shaped one covered.
Something more easily visual to tell them apart from a distance. Then there was the healers. He had hoped magic could do away with the glasses all together. Unfortunately, as James explained it, not only did wizards not have that ability, but his awful eyesight was the result of a blood curse. Apparently, they were quite common with older families, most were ultimately harmless, but a few families were unlucky enough to have deadly ones. He settled for glasses with square lenses and thick black rims.
By the time they were done, the streets had emptied out significantly. Shops all around them were closing up for the day as they made their way back towards the Leaky Cauldron.
They did make one last stop though. Eeylops Owl Emporium was still open, and James smiled at Harry as he led them into the store.
"Have at it, Harry," James told him. "Pick out any owl you want.
"Really?" Harry asked excitedly.
"Have at it."
Harry wanted to jump for joy. He wandered deeper into the stop, looking at the dozens of owls perched all around. Large ones, small ones, brown and grey owls watched him with beady eyes and sharp beaks. He read the little plaques beneath their stands.
"Not so fast," James said in a sharp tone.
Harry turned back to see James dragging Alex away from a trio of owls.
"If you would have behaved, you would have gotten one."
If looks could kill, Harry would be dead where he stood. Alex glared at him and whined at James, who answered with a sharp "No," at his begging.
Harry couldn't believe his luck. He was getting something while Alex had to watch with envy. Never before had anything like that happened to him. Harry had never benefited from Dudley being punished. Of course, that would mean Dudley would have to be punished for something in the first place.
It eased something within him, to see James doing something about Alex's behaviour. The Dursley's would never have been so decent.
Alex stomped his foot and pouted, and still James didn't give in. His brother knocked into a golden perch while having his fit.
There was a screech, and white feathers came hurtling towards Alex's face. Alex screamed and darted away, putting James between him and the angry bird.
"No!" the shopkeeper cried, and shooed the owl away.
"Sorry about that. She's very territorial," the man said.
"It's no problem," James said while laughing.
"I want that one." And really, the owl had great instincts, aiming right for Alex's face.
The snowy owl was a year old, and had attacked every patron that came close to her since she arrived at the shop. She nuzzled into Harry's hair though, perfectly content with her new owner.
Alex smartly kept several feet between him and the owl, which was now perched on his shoulder. Her talons rested lightly on him, not quite gripping, but tight enough he could feel the sharp points. She stared Alex down, daring him to come closer. Morgan would love her, if the owl and snake didn't try to murder one another.
Her perch was gifted to them, and James bought a golden cage that Harry had to gently coax her into, and all the other supplies they would need for her. All of her new things went into the seemingly bottomless bag James carried.
Harry couldn't stop smiling the entire way back to Linweald.