Chapter Text
It wasn’t often in his life that Harry found himself thankful for his upbringing. Right now he had to admit it gifted him with the helpful skill of existing outside the notice of those around him. The shadows were his friend, they hid him from the prying eyes of the pub patrons. After watching a number of what he could only assume were witches and wizards, based on the robe-like clothing they wore, disappear through a back door, he followed suit. The letter did say the entrance was through the pub. Hanging behind the doorway, he peeked around into the back room just in time to see a man tap a long piece of wood, must be a wand, in a complex pattern on the brick wall. At the fifth tap, the bricks seemed to fold into each other, creating a doorway to a street bustling with activity. Quickly darting after the tall wizard into the street, Harry looked around in barely veiled awe at the shops around him. There was an Apothecary with actual eyeballs kept in a jar in the window, a pet shop with owls and toads instead of fish or parakeets. It was an explosion of sensory input and for a moment Harry thought he might actually black out. Luckily, someone chose that exact moment to knock into him, jarring him out of his pseudo-panicked state.
“Watch where you’re going street rat.”
The tall blonde man who had knocked into him growled out before hurrying along. Apparently, Harry thought bitterly Adults are still assholes in the Wizarding World. Shaking himself off, he continued on, more purpose in his stride as he resumed his search for the bank. This time not allowing himself to get distracted by his surroundings.
Gringotts was very hard to miss once Harry had made his way further into the alley it seemed to loom before him, towering over the surrounding buildings. He crept his way into the bank, quickly darting back into the shadows at his first chance. He would observe the goings on of the other patrons before deciding on a course of action himself. After all, those unsuited to a new environment are doomed to perish in it. Better to watch and adapt rather than make a fool of himself.
Harry was just about to make his way to one of the empty tellers, run by goblins if what he had overheard was correct when a hand on his arm pulled him once more out of his thoughts.
“And what do you think you’re doing, sneaking around our bank?”
Harry spun on his heel to face the owner of the gruff voice, only to find one of the bank goblins peering up at him with a scowl on his face.
“Oh… ummm. Sorry, Sir. I was just trying to figure out how the bank worked before I made my way to one of the tellers… I didn’t mean to cause any trouble mr…” Harry trailed off, unsure how to address the goblin in front of him. Said goblin seemed to be examining him, obviously wondering what a scruffy young boy could be doing at a bank.
“You may call me Silverstone if you have business with the bank I will assist you. If not, loitering is not tolerated and I will remove you from the premises.” The goblin was quite curious as to who this wizard was. It would seem that the boy was muggle-born from his actions, though most of those children treated the goblins with fear, not respect as the wizard in front of him had.
“Thank you, Silverstone. I do have business with the bank. I would like to see my vault and retrieve some money for school supplies. I have my key here.” As he spoke, Harry pulled the key out from where it hung under his shirt, showing it to the goblin. “It would also be very helpful If you could maybe explain the currency here to me? If it’s not too much to ask that is. I don’t mean to be an inconvenience, sir.” The boy’s rambling was cut off by a low chuckle that emanated from the goblin.
“It will not be an inconvenience Mr…” Silverstone trailed off, motioning with his hand for Harry to give his name.
“Harry Potter, sir.” Harry flushed as he responded, embarrassed to have forgotten to introduce himself. The wizard noted that the goblin’s eyes seemed to bug out of his skull upon hearing his name, perhaps my parents were rich? Why else would he recognize my name?
“Follow me, Mr. Potter, I have a feeling you will have more questions for me before the day is through.” Silverstone began leading Harry to a door behind the teller’s desks, stealing a glance at the waif-like boy every few steps. This was Harry Potter? Savior of the wizarding world? The boy acted like he had no clue how the bank worked. Like some muggle-born, almost as if… no, that couldn’t be right, the Boy-Who-Lived, raised by muggles? If that was the case, this was going to be a long meeting indeed.
Harry followed the goblin to a richly furnished office. The plaque outside the door read “Vault Manager Silverstone” giving Harry the idea that the goblin helping him was of some importance to the bank. Or maybe all the employees had offices? Not important harry, focus on the task ahead. Push the questions in the Office for now. By the time Harry had sat down in the chair facing Silverstone’s desk, he had successfully stashed the questions away in his Office and was once more fully focused on the Vault Manager in front of him.
“Mr. Potter, from what I have seen from you so far, can I assume this is your first time interacting with the Wizarding World?” There was a calculating gleam in the goblin’s eye that made Harry once again wonder what the goblin knew of him. Information is power after all.
“Yes sir, I received my Hogwarts letter this past month and haven’t been to Diagon Alley until today.” Harry paused, trying to decide whether the goblin would answer his question. Coming to the conclusion that he had nothing to lose, he decided to just ask. “If you don’t mind my asking sir, why did you look at me so oddly after I introduced myself? The only thing I could think of is that my parents were wealthy enough for you to know of their name, but I thought I would ask in case I was wrong.” The goblin only stared at first, making Harry shift uncomfortably in his chair. He was a boy born to the shadows, scrutiny was something he did not often fall under.
+++
Silverstone’s answer was not at all what Harry was expecting. He was famous! Of all the reasons for the goblin’s stare that had not even crossed his mind. And for something he didn’t even remember doing too. Apparently, he was going to need to get used to being in the spotlight. Oh well, I have adapted before, looks like I need to once more. But first, information.
“Thank you for telling me all that. Could we possibly move on to my vault information? I could use something a little more benign while I settle my thoughts.” The goblin chuckled at the wizard’s assumption that there would be nothing exciting about his vaults.
“Sure thing Mr. Potter. First off, we will be covering your vaults, not just one vault. The key you have is to your trust vault, you have access to that one until you come to magical maturity at 16, then you can take up the role as the head of House Potter and have use of the rest of the Potter vaults, as well as take an inheritance test to see if Magic has claimed you as heir to any other vaults.” Silverstone could only look on with amusement as the boy’s eyes grew wider and wider with each word out of the goblin’s mouth.
“I’m sorry… what? Head of House Potter? Magical Maturity? Magic will claim… what?” Harry was thoroughly confused. Try as he might he could not sort the new information as fast as it was being given to him and quite honestly he was getting dizzy again.
“You are from a long line of Magical Purebloods, meaning they only married witches and wizards into the family. The Potter line can be traced for thousands of years and thusly, as the last Potter alive, you will be given the mantle of Lord Potter upon your 16 th birthday. Witches and Wizards reach their magical maturity when they turn 16, it is on this day that you will become a legal adult in the wizarding world, as well as receive any magical inheritance you may be entitled to, such as the title of Lord Potter, as well as any inheritances that Magic herself may grant you, though this is a much less common occurrence.” The goblin paused to make sure Harry was still following, happy that the boy seemed mostly focused on the goings-on around him, Silverstone continued. “When a magical line dies out the magic tied to that line does not disappear, instead it once more becomes one with the wild magic until Magic herself decided to bestow the family magic back into a wizarding bloodline. Every magical family, especially the old ones, have very specific magical talents inherent to their bloodline. The Blacks, for example, have been known to have shapeshifters or metamorphmaguses in their family. The Lovegood family is known for giving birth to Seers and the Gaunt line is known for Parselmouths, or wizards who can speak to snakes.” Silverstone paused here, noting that the boy had stiffened at his last sentence, could it be? “Do you have something to add, Mr. Potter?”
Harry shifted once more in his chair, before steeling himself to the goblin’s gaze. Somehow I don’t think the Lord of anything important fidgets in his chair like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Are these gifts always genetic? Or could you have one without being related to a certain family line?” For the first time since he sat down, Harry made eye contact with the goblin, pleased to see the Vault Manager didn’t seem annoyed by the interruption.
“It would be extremely rare, Mr. Potter, but not unheard of. Do you mind me inquiring why you asked?” And there was the scrutiny again, Harry really needed to get used to this. Once more gathering his courage Harry responded.
“I think I’m a Parselmouth sir, I spoke with a snake at the zoo a couple months ago. Is that a bad thing?” While he had started off strong, the look he was given by the goblin caused him to waver towards the end of his statement.
“The Goblin Nation has nothing against those with your particular gift, Mr. Potter. However, it is seen by many in the Wizarding world as a dark trait. Voldemort being the last known Parselmouth in Wizarding Britain is the cause for most of this bias.” The goblin sent an unreadable look at the small wizard in front of him as he spoke. Harry sighed. Of course, there would be more reasons for people to ostracize him. “If that is all Mr. Potter, We can make our way to your trust vault and you can get on with your day. I’m sure you can find more information on the prominent families in Britain at Flourish and Blotts, the main bookstore in the Alley, though there would probably be better reading material down Knockturn Alley. Your decision really.”
Harry was soon after ushered down to his vault in a cart ride that was really not safe, even if it was fun. He filled a bottomless pouch Silverstone provided him, for a price of course, though it was worth the gold as it would only open for Harry. He was given a brief overview of wizarding currency and how much they were worth in comparison to the muggle pound, and then sent on his way. From the looks he was still drawing from his oversized muggle clothing, Harry figured robes would be his first stop. The first shop he spotted seemed to be teeming with student age customers, apparently, that was the go-to place for school robes. Not wanting to bother with that right now, Harry ducked into another tailor in the Alley, Turnings, which held a wide variety of everyday wear, as well as formal robes. They did not however, Harry noted with interest, carry school robes. Lost in his musings he nearly jumped out of his skin when the shop owner approached him.
“Something I can help you with dear? I should warn you, my stock is a bit more pricey than most can afford.” The tall auburn haired women sneered at his grubby hand me downs, obviously doubting that such a poorly dressed young man had the Galleons needed to afford her wares. Not liking this woman’s treatment, Harry decided to find out just how well known he was.
“I assure you, ma’am, I am more than capable of purchasing your wares. Though, perhaps I would be better taking my business elsewhere? I’m sure there are others that are shops more than willing to serve the Potter heir, yes?” Harry found immense satisfaction in the shock filled expression on the woman’s face. As well as the subsequent ass kissing.
“Harry Potter! Of course, of course, I apologize for not recognizing you. How may I help you, sir?” Her eyes flickered up to his forehead, zoning in on the scar there with obvious awe. With the women nearly drooling over herself to help him, and keep his business, Harry quickly had a full wizarding wardrobe as well as some trousers and pullovers that actually fit him. He changed into a pair of black slacks and a grey tunic-like shirt that Harry assumed was the wizarding equivalent of a t-shirt. The belt around his waist had a clasp for his new Galleon bag and looking in the mirror as he left, Harry barely recognized himself. He looked like any other wizarding child making their way through the Alley. The one thing about the outfit that would take time to get used to is the cloak. The shop owner, Miss. Turning, insisted that he buy a few, seeing as they were a common accessory for wizard wear. The deep forest green cloak was by far the nicest thing he bought in the shop, but he had to agree with the woman that it suited him well.
It was midday by the time Harry had finished at his wardrobe shopping, and while he was hungry, he was reluctant to eat before he had a wand and some material to read. So far it was looking like the week before school would start wouldn’t be nearly enough time to learn everything that was expected of him. Remembering Silverstone’s advice, the young wizard looked around for the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Well, though harry upon spotting the aforementioned Alley makes sense why Silverstone was wary to advise me to look there. That seems to be a less than friendly area. Best not make any enemies until I’m better informed. Decision made, Harry pulled up his hood and ducked into Knockturn. He weaved through the crowd until he came upon what appeared to be a bookshop, tucked between an odds and ends store and some kind of pawn shop called Borgin and Burke’s.
The store owner merely glanced at the short hooded figure before turning back to whatever book he had been reading behind his desk. Quickly making his way through the stacks, he stopped at a section titled “genealogy” where he found a book of genealogy charts, another on the recorded family alliances and feuds and a third one on the different family magic. His stack of books only grew as he made his way through the store, adding a few on traditional Wizarding holidays, the comings and goings of the Ministry of Magic and finally a collection on etiquette and customs. If the store owner blinked twice at the collection of tomes, Harry didn’t notice. Quite quickly Harry found himself quite a few Galleons lighter and lugging a shrunken handful of books around in one of his cloak pockets.
He was on his way to back to Diagon Alley and the wand shop he had seen there when he spotted a familiar head of white blonde hair exiting the pawn shop he had taken note of earlier. The man certainly carried himself like someone of importance. Between his upturned nose and immaculate robes, Harry felt certain he would come across the blond man in at least one of his books. The man’s mercurial gaze slipped past the small figure in green with the same dismissive air he had when shoving past Harry that morning.
+++
Ollivander was not entirely human, of this Harry was fairly certain. Not only did his store sign claim that it had been there more than two thousand years the way the man, if he could be called that, seemed to look directly into Harry’s soul screamed supernatural. Well, more supernatural than your run of the mill wizard at least. Needless to say, Harry was more than happy to be out of the man’s shop once he had found his wand, twin to Voldemort or no, he had his own wand now!
Harry was nearly starving by the time he had stepped back into the leaky cauldron in search of something to eat. He was quickly placed at a quiet table in the back of the restaurant and nearly inhaled his food. It had been months since his last proper meal and he wasn’t about to let even a crumb go to waste now. Once full, he proceeded to pull out his books and set to work learning all he could about his new home. It wasn’t too long before Harry came across the description of the Malfoy family. Rich as dirt, striking blonde hair, very powerful politically, he would bet anything that the man who had barreled him over was the Lord Malfoy. There were no ties between the two families, good or bad. So he would have to make a decision on their character by himself.
Further exploration into the Potter family showed quite a few ties, and a good many feuds as well. He explored the alliances first. The most recent allies were with the families Longbottom, Bones, and Weasley. These three seem to have been made during the war, so Harry assumed they were all on the same side, the “light” side if he recalled correctly. It seemed a little odd, to group people as Good and Bad, when most were a bit of both. If his childhood taught him anything, it was to think for himself. Had he not, he’d be back in his cupboard actively accepting his treatment as proper for a ‘freak’. He would have to look into the politics of the situation before making any opinions. After all, a few of the older alliances with the Potter family were strongly aligned with the “dark” side of the war. The Blacks, for example, had been in an alliance with the Potters since his great-grandmother Dorea Potter nee’ Black married into the family. The Peverells were another family that was speculated to be dark, though their line had died out, they had married into the Potter line centuries ago. The final alliance was with the Prewett family, another ‘light’ family, this one formed towards the beginning of the 19 th century for reasons unknown. As far as Harry could tell, the Potters had always had fingers in both pies. A grey aligned family. The youngest Potter couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.
+++
After his lunch and subsequent reading, Harry made his way to finally get his school supplies. He walked past the bookshop for now, as it was still horribly full, he made his way to Madam Malkin’s for his school robes. Luckily, they rush around the shop from earlier in the day seemed to have died down. There were a few people meandering around the shop, but only one other person was getting fitted. The boy appeared to be around Harry’s age, he looked around in a way that quickly reminded Harry of, who he had assumed to be, Lord Malfoy. Perhaps they were related? They certainly had the same coloring, white blonde hair and silver eyes.
“Hogwarts as well dear?” The lady that was working on the blonde boy’s robes inquired at Harry. “Why don’t you get up on that platform right here and I’ll call for one of my helpers.” She smiled at Harry as he quickly followed her instructions and hopped up on the platform. Turning her head towards the back of the shop she hollered for the helper. “Candice! Come up front and help me, please! We’ve got another first year for Hogwarts looking for a robe.” The stout woman that bustled up from the back room gave Harry a charming smile before taking his cloak and getting to work.
“You’re a first year too then?” Harry nearly missed the blond boy’s question in all the commotion.
“Yeah. You excited for Hogwarts I assume?” Harry asked, praying that he would survive the conversation. Talking to people your own age is a little daunting when you’ve never really done so before. As much as he had gained from growing up in the school library, it was times like these that he cursed his cousin.
“I’d be stupid not to be! Although, I think I might have to smuggle in my broom. Imagine, a whole year without flying, I think I’ll go mad! Do you play quidditch too?” The blonde spoke so fast Harry very nearly lost the conversation, not to mention he had no clue what quidditch is, only that it must somehow involve flying on brooms.
“I’ve not played Quidditchh, no. Though, seeing as we can’t play until second year, it doesn’t matter to me much.” Harry sighed, there was still so much he didn’t know. If only there wasn’t so much more to buy for school, he needed to read more of those books. Maybe I’ll buy a few on recent history when I go to get my school books…
Draco looked a bit off put by Harry’s admission to not caring about quidditch, seeing as, in his mind, every boy his age played. Unless… the boy was carrying a book when he entered. “Ravenclaw then? You probably care more about books than about flying. Personally, I’m going to be in Slytherin, it is the best house after all, my whole family has been in Slytherin. Though, you could do worse than Ravenclaw, like Gryffindor, or god forbid, Hufflepuff.” The blonde made a face as he spoke the last two, as if just mentioning them left a bad taste in his mouth.
Harry, quite confused as to what they were now talking about, just hummed noncommittally hoping the other boy would change the subject before it became apparent how little Harry actually knew. Luckily it was in this lull in their conversation that the seamstress, Candice, who had been fitting Harry cut in. “Dear, I need your name so I can put your name on your robes, once I do that you’re all done!” She smiled kindly up at Harry from where she was sat on a stool hemming his new robe. Well, here goes nothing, I wonder if they’ll have the same reaction as the other lady?
“Harry James Potter, ma’am.” Harry was pleased to see that aside from the slight widening of her eyes, Candice didn’t start drooling over him as the last tailor had. Instead, she just smiled and got to work finishing up his robe, professionalism at its finest.
Draco, however, was a different reaction altogether. “ You’re Harry Potter!?” The boys silver eyes seemed almost cloudy with disbelief as they quickly studied the dark haired boy, stopping his gaze at his forehead. Shaking himself off the blonde turned and stuck out his hand. “I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” His face once more was the closed off mask of a Pureblood heir, any sign of his previous confusion gone from his face. Harry’s lips quirked at the reaction, apparently, Silverstone was correct about his name getting him attention from high on the social ladder.
“Well met Heir Malfoy. Harry James Potter.” Harry clasped his hand around Draco’s forearm as he gave, what he remembered from his reading to be, a traditional greeting. It was odd to use his full name, but no matter. He hadn’t read much of his etiquette book yet, though he was fairly sure that had been the correct response. He was proven correct when Draco observed his response with a small smile.
“I’m glad to hear you’ve been properly raised Heir Potter. I’m sure-“ He cut himself off as a familiar blonde Wizard made his way into the shop.
“Ah, Draco, there you are. Your mother is waiting for us at Flourish and Blotts.” Stopping in front of the boys Harry couldn’t withhold the shiver the tall man’s piercing gaze provoked. “Who’s this then?” The man didn’t even direct the question to Harry, much to the small boy’s chagrin, but instead to his son. Draco Harry thought is much more tolerable than his father.
“Father, may I introduce you to the Heir Potter, Harry James.” Harry couldn’t withhold the small smirk from his face at the (quickly veiled) look of shock on Malfoy seniors face at Draco’s response. He turned stiffly to the small dark haired boy, eyes scanning his clothing, which was now once more visible as the seamstress had removed the robes to spell his name on them. After a few heartbeats, apparently finding whatever he was looking for, the elder wizard bowed slightly to the younger wizard.
“Well met Heir Potter.” Though there was no emotion on the man’s face, Harry imagined he was sneering internally, if his actions so far were any indication to his character. Harry mirrored the action, bowing a little deeper than the man had to him in a nod to the man’s superiority in age. This was entirely instinctive on Harry’s part, he had not read anything on bowing in the wizarding world. He had read about bowing in many Asian cultures and just prayed that the system was similar here. Not like he’ll call me out on it in public. Pretty sure that would be a social no no. Seemingly satisfied with the bow, Lucius turned back to his son. “We must be off now Draco.” And with that he turned and left, obviously expecting his son to follow, which he did. Not before saying farewell, however.
“See you on the train Potter!” Draco shot over his shoulder as he exited the shop in tow of his sire. Harry just waved. Once the Malfoys were out of sight Harry suddenly felt like a deflated balloon. Who knew social posturing could be so exhausting. He could only hope it got easier with practice.
+++
The rest of the day went by without incident. Alongside his school books, he purchased some history books, including a large tome Hogwarts a History , which he hoped would explain the houses Draco had mentioned in the robe shop. The only other exciting part of his day was at the trunk shop. Apparently, there was something referred to as ‘Wizard space’ that could make the inside of something much bigger than the outside. His trunk had three compartments, each opened with a different key. One was what Harry could only describe as a walk in closet. The second was a small library-like room with shelves for walls and a small desk at the back of the room. The third was much smaller than the other two, but was much better protected, it required the key and a password. He had no clue what he would put in there yet, but it sounded handy so he bought it regardless. The best part about the entire trunk was the permanent featherlight charm and the fact that tapping the lid with his wand would shrink it down small enough to fit in his hand.
Finding somewhere to stay for the week was a bit of a challenge. The leaky cauldron wouldn’t give him a room without an adult present, so he ended up at a small hole in the wall in Knockturn. He paid upfront for the week and made his way to the small room. It wasn’t the safest place to stay but it was an actual room, so Harry wasn’t complaining. He didn’t actually leave the room much that week. He came down for a meal once a day, but otherwise spent his days reading or sorting information in his Mind Bunker. The only errand he did go on was the day before he was to leave for King’s Cross. Remembering the owl used to send him letters back home he made a trip to the Owl Emporium, returning with a beautiful snowy owl he named Hedwig after a witch in one of his history books.