The Letter
Harry stared at the bacon he was grilling with a hungry desire in his eyes. He hadn't eaten anything more than a slice of stale bread in two days. He was so hungry he was sure he could eat out of the bin if he wasn't sure his aunt would mysteriously find out if he did. His wrist was hurting from the bruises his uncle had undoubtedly left behind when throwing him into his cupboard last night after he'd 'caused Dudley's controller to break'.
Harry, of course, knew that Dudley had broken the thing in a fit of rage. Dudley knew this too, and had known he would get blamed by the way the boy had been smirking at him from behind his equally unpleasant father.
He flipped the last piece of bacon on a plate with a frail arm as his aunt walked in, dressed as if she was going to a restaurant rather than just staying at home to stare judgementally at the neighbours. His aunt didn't know how to do much other than gossip with the woman she gossiped about and fawn over her husband and son.
Petunia Dursley was a foul woman who saw herself as a charitable, upstanding member of society. Harry privately thought she looked like a prune that was shrivelled up even more than usual. Mind you, her husband wasn't much better. Vernon Dursley was a boring, morbidly obese man who was eating himself to an early death on a daily basis.
The man's job couldn't get more boring than it already was, being a director at a grill company. The man didn't do much more than sit in his sunken in chair and yell at people.
"Hurry it up, boy. You're making my poor Duddykins go hungry," His aunt spat, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Yes, aunt Petunia." Harry mumbled as he quickly plated the eggs on another plate. He then carried the plates of bread, eggs, bacon, and sausage to the dining table in the room connected to the kitchen where his uncle and cousin were already seated.
The boy quickly placed all the dishes on the table, avoiding his cousin, who had stuck his foot out in an attempt to trip him. He was glad his uncle had decided to ignore his existence for now, and hurriedly went back to the kitchen to do the dishes as the Dursleys ate.
A couple of minutes later they heard the tell-tale sign of post being shoved through the front door's post slot. His uncle quickly called him and commanded him to go and get the mail, food being spat from his mouth as he did so.
Harry internally shrunk his nose as he walked by the man and into the hall, leaning down to pick up the letters, looking through them as he slowly walked back. Harry froze as he reached the last letter in his hands while shuffling through the post.
'Mr H. Potter'
Harry didn't read any further. Before he knew what he was doing, he silently hurried to his cupboards, slid his letter under the small door and reentered the dining room to hand the other letters to his uncle.
Standing in the corner and staring at the floor, he didn't notice the relieved expression his aunt and uncle shared as they rapidly went through their post.
The only thing on his mind was the letter waiting for him in his cupboard.
Eventually the Dursleys were done indulging in their breakfast, and Harry was sent back to his cupboard after cleaning the table. His aunt would come to him with his daily list of chores later -a long one no doubt, as it was summer vacation. But until then, he could go and read his mysterious letter in peace.
Harry got comfortable in the narrow space and picked up the letter with tender hands, making sure to avoid wrinkling it. He slowly opened the envelope and took out the folded papers inside of it. With gentle fingers he unfolded the first letter and started reading.
Dear Mister Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva Mcgonagall
Harry blinked at the text in shock, re-reading it a few times with widened eyes. This was a joke, right? Just a really mean joke. Dudley would come stomping down the stairs in a few minutes and laugh in his face for believing it for even a second, and-
But what if it wasn't?
What if, miraculously, it wasn't one big prank to laugh at him?
What if it was real? What if magic was real?
Harry glanced at the other papers. The ones that would have all the 'books and equipment' he'd need for this school. He decided it wouldn't hurt to just take a look at them and picked them up with hesitant hands.
First-year students will require:
- Three sets of plain work robes (black)
- One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
- One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
- One winter cloak (black, with silver fastening)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Harry's first thought was: where was he ever going to get all of this? And, even if he knew where to get it all, with what money? he was certain his aunt wouldn't give him a single quid to buy a bloody cauldron of all things. Hell, she'd probably hit him in the head for even asking.
He glanced at the first page again, noticing the note saying they'd be 'awaiting his owl'. How was he supposed to send an owl?
This was impossible.
Harry flinched as a loud thump sounded against the door, ringing through the small space.
"Get out here, freak!" His aunt screeched from the other side.
Harry quickly exited the cupboard after hiding the papers under a few big shirts. He stood in front of his aunt as she slammed the small door shut. He glanced at the list that was held tightly in her hand, already dreading the large amount of chores that would undoubtedly be on it. It was summer, so it would be scaldingly hot outside. This, of course, wouldn't stop his aunt from giving him outside tasks to do like trimming the roses, painting the hedge, or weeding around the flower beds for hours. He could just feel the burning sun already. He didn't think he'd ever understand people on the telly that would lay out in the sun for fun. It wasn't fun.
His aunt held it out to him expectantly, and he quickly took the paper out of her hand, looking down at the list with apprehension.
clean the bathroom tiles and shower
dust the living room and dining room
weed the flowerbeds
trim the overgrowing flowers and grass
cook lunch (sandwiches with ham and eggs)
water the roses
clean Dudley's second bedroom
prepare dinner (bangers and mash)
Harry grew more hopeless as the list went on. How was he ever supposed to finish this in a day?
Harry would honestly be impressed she could come up with such a long list of chores if he wasn't the one that had to complete them. He looked up at his aunt, who was looking at him with a challenging expression, as if daring him to complain.
He silently told himself anything was better than a thrashing from his uncle and waited for his aunt to walk away before getting to work. He headed to the living room first, deciding to get the downstairs area out of the way first.
Harry collapsed in his cupboard in exhaustion. He felt like hundreds of swords were stabbing every inch of his skin and yet at the same time he felt nothing at all. He picked up the papers hidden under the old shirts with shaking hands Tired eyes stared at the pages in despair. He just wanted out of here. Out of this house. Away from the constant pain. Was he so bad for hoping that it was real?
Back hurting from the stinging slashes of the belt his uncle had graciously given him, he turned to his side, curling up with his knees his chest. He cradled the pages in his hands and closed his eyes deciding that, yes, he would find a way out of here. And if he had to send an owl to one Minerva Mcgonagall? Then he would.
Harry slipped out of his relatives' house not even two days later. In the morning when his aunt was gone with the neighbourhood wives and his uncle and cousin were out, eating themselves full to their hearts desire again. It was easier than he'd thought it would ever be. Not that the Dursleys would really be begging him to stay, but still. Before he left, he'd nicked a couple of pounds from his aunts purse to pay for a bus fee. He didn't know where exactly to go, but London seemed like a place that had loads of stores.
The malnourished boy walked down the streets of Surrey with surprisingly little disturbances. A neighbour or two pulled their child closer or sneered in disdain as he walked past their house, not wanting their 'sweet, innocent babies' to be affected by the freakish delinquent. Harry didn't know why so many people just looked down on him with contempt instead of concern. He was wearing clothes too large, his skin was covered in bruises, and he was always quiet. How they came to the conclusion that he was a delinquent he would never know.
Eventually, he arrived at a bus station and sat down on one of the benches by the road. He looked up at the board that would showcase which bus would come when. The bus to London central would arrive in seven minutes. There wasn't anyone else there, so he took out the letter that he'd put in his pocket. He'd probably need to ask someone where to go to get all of it, but he had no idea if he was even allowed to talk to strangers about it. What if it was some secret society or something?
His thoughts were cut off as the bus arrived, stopping in front of him. He quickly jumped off the bench and entered the bus, stopping in front of the bus driver.
"Excuse me, sir.. How much is a one-way ticket to London?" He asked hesitantly, looking up at the man with uncertain eyes.
The pudgy bus driver glanced down at the concerningly small boy in front of him and smiled gently, "'Hello, lad. Aren't you supposed to wait for yer parents or somethin'?"
Harry froze. He hadn't thought of the fact that a ten year old (nearly eleven!) taking the bus alone would be slightly concerning to the average person. "Er.. M-my parents said to meet me in London if I ever got lost.. sir," Harry mumbled, glancing up at the man with downcast eyes. Hopefully he'd fall for it and give him a pass.
The bus driver frowned in obvious concern, "A'ight lad, I'll let you drive to London with me, yeah? Just go sit over there, no need to pay for gettin' lost, aye?"
The boy internally sighed in relief. Not only had the man fallen for it. He'd given Harry a free tag-along to London as well! He nodded with a tentative smile and took the seat nearest to the driver.
After about an hour and a half the bus finally stopped in central London. Harry quickly got out of his seat and left the vehicle, mumbling a thank you to the driver as he passed. He ignored the man's attempt at stopping him and swiftly took cover in the large amount of people walking around the streets.
In hindsight, that wasn't the best idea. It felt suffocating, and so many people were touching him and surrounding him, and-
Harry took a deep breath as he finally managed to worm his way out of the crowd and to a silent alley connected to the Main Street. Okay, that could have gone better. Lesson learned. The boy took a few deep breaths and, once he felt like he'd collected himself, took the letter out of his oversized trouser pocket. He unfolded the list of materials he'd need and looked up and out of the alley. Where would he get 'dragon hide gloves' of all things?
Just as he was about to start wandering around aimlessly, he saw two men in an odd state of dress walking swiftly down the side of the street. They looked very strange, and yet no one bat an eye. It was almost like no one could see them. Harry decided the best course of action would be to follow them and to hope he'd end up in a place with more odd people.
He slipped out of the alley and onto the Main Street, following the two men as they headed deeper into town. After about ten minutes of walking, the men entered a dingy looking pub. Harry didn't bother looking at the name of the gloomy place before entering swiftly behind them. He looked around the place in interest. It was the kind of place his aunt would turn her nose up to, which automatically made him like it more. Most of the people inside were oddly dressed too, with weird hats, cloaks, and dresses. Not to mention the decoration of the place itself. There were vials of strange liquids standing on shelves, candles hanging seemingly without thread, and serving trays that looked like they were moving on their own. Was that a talking head hanging by the-
Focus.
Harry scanned the small room for the two men he'd followed, seeing them heading to the back where the barman was. He watched in fascination as the man took out a thin stick and tapped a random pattern on the brick wall in front of them. His eyes widened as the wall seemingly split open, revealing a large alley on the other side.
Harry quickly followed after them when the barman had turned his back, slipping between the bricks just as the wall started reconstructing into its original form. He looked around in the large street he was in in wonder. There were shops selling cauldrons, 'potion ingredients', brooms, spell books, tarot cards, and so much more. The whole place seemed to be oozing with magic left and right. It was the most magical place he'd ever been.
Harry had never felt like he'd belonged somewhere as much as he did now. He could feel the magic vibrating against his skin, making him feel all tingly and warm inside. As he walked down the eccentric streets, he looked inside all the shops in wonder. There was just so much of.. everything. So many things he wanted to touch or smell or read. He wanted to know everything about this place that made him feel like he was normal. Like he wasn't just some strange boy in the cupboard. Like he was special, but not in a bad way. He didn't think that was even possible.
He came to a stop in front of a large white marble building with huge pillars holding the structure up. He felt like he was dirtying the shiny stairs just by standing near them. He peered up at the large sign visible on the arch.
'GRINGOTTS BANK'
Harry hesitantly stepped inside. He didn't have much more than the few pounds he'd nicked from his aunt, but maybe he could get a loan or something? Were those a thing in the Magical World as well? He hoped so. He hadn't even thought of how he was going to pay for his tuition yet. Not to mention he still needed to send an owl to the woman from the letter.
As he walked up to one of the tall counters he realised he might have been a bit in over his head. He looked up at the creature that was sitting in the high chair in front of him. The teller had very large elvish ears and a sizeably crooked nose. His face was all wrinkled and he looked a little like how one might imagine a dwarf. The teller seemed even shorter than Harry himself, which was saying something because he wasn't exactly the tallest of the bunch.
".. Excuse me, sir. Is there a way I can- ahm.. get a loan, or something?" Harry asked tentatively. He realised how lacking his question was and quickly went to elaborate, "for my schooling, I mean! it's-"
Harry was cut off by the goblin's tired sigh, "And what is the young man's name?"
"Er.. Harry, sir. Harry Potter."
The goblin froze. It's beady eyes singling in on Harry's forehead as if looking for something. The goblin didn't find the famous sowilō₁ scar the books spoke about, however. Instead, there was a lightning pattern crackling down the child's forehead and over his eye in multiple branches, crawling down his cheek and stopping about halfway. It looked like a bolt of lightning had made its way down the boy's face, before deciding to freeze and sink in. How odd. It was a very bright white, making it a stark contrast against his slightly tan skin.
The goblin got out of its seat without warning and snapped a quick 'come with me!', before hobbling off further into the building. Harry blinked in surprise before quickly hurrying after him, catching up after a few seconds. He looked around as they walked, large imposing doors surrounded them in the maze of hallways. He'd tried to keep track of the route they took, but quickly lost the way.
Eventually, they stopped at a door no different from the others, and the goblin opened the door with a large key he'd pulled seemingly out of nowhere. He entered and Harry followed, closing the heavy door carefully behind him.
Harry gazed around the lavish room around him. There were bookcases on both sides filled with large tomes and all kinds of trinkets he didn't recognise. A large, dark wood desk was stood in the middle of the room, one large chair behind it and two smaller arm chairs in front of it. The teller was already seated on the large chair behind the desk when Harry glanced up at him.
He stood, fidgeting with his fingers, at the door. He didn't know if he was permitted to sit in the arm chairs or not. They looked very expensive and soft, and his uncle had always said that a dirty freak like him wasn't allowed to tarnish things that-
"Are you going to sit down or do you wish to stand there like a fool all day?" The goblins irritated voice interrupted his spiralling thoughts, snapping him back to reality. Harry flushed snd quickly stepped forward, taking a seat on the edge of one of the armchairs. The thing practically swallowed him, as it was clearly made for adults and larger creatures. He fumbled nervously with the hem of his oversized shirt, once more feeling out of place.
He watched as the goblin laid a piece of parchment and a thin dagger on the desk in front of him, glancing at him expectantly. Was Harry supposed to know what to do? Because he had no idea. "My name is Silver Tooth," The goblin started, annoyed. "I am the Black family account manager, and if you are who you say you are we have business to discuss. Cut your finger and bleed no more than three drops on the page."
Harry stared at him with a wary expression before leaning forward to pick up the heavy, rune adorned dagger and making a thin cut along his index finger. He ignored the light sting, nothing in comparison to what his uncle did to him on a daily basis, and carefully watched as three drops of his blood were absorbed into the parchment. He gently laid the dagger back down to its original position and sat back in shock as red ink appeared on the page.
Name: Hadrian James Potter-Black
Date of birth: July 31st, 1980
Mother: Lily Jade Potter née Evans (deceased)
Father: James Fleamont Potter (deceased)
Blood adopted father: Sirius Orion Black (Date of adoption: August 7th, 1980) (incarcerated)
Godparents: Sirius Orion Black and Alice Florence Longbottom (deceased)
Magical abilities and gifts:
Parsletoungue (through soul connection)
Parslemagic (through soul connection)
Horcrux (through Avada Kedavra, cast by Tom Marvolo Slytherin, alias: Lord Voldemort)
Titles:
Heir to the Noble House of Potter (through paternal line)
Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (through blood adopted paternal line)
Heir to the Ancient house of Peverell (through paternal line)
Heir to the Ancient house of Slytherin (through soul)
Heir to the house of Gaunt (through soul)
Harry stopped reading when all he saw was a lot of vaults, ownerships, and properties of many things he didn't understand. He did, however, understand that he wouldn't need to worry about money anymore. That was a relief.
His name was Hadrian, apparently. He liked the sound of that. It sounded different from the freak he associated the basic, dirty name 'Harry' with. He decided he would go by Hadrian from now on. It was the name his parents had chosen for him, after all. Harry looked up at the goblin, "Mr. Silver Tooth?" He mumbled hesitantly.
The goblin grunted as he scanned the page of parchment himself, grin growing as his eyes got near the end of the page where the list of vaults and properties were listed.
"Well, mr. Potter. You are certainly who you said you were. that's good. Shall we discuss all unfinished business left behind by your predecessors?"
Harry looked down at the folders the goblin gathered in interest. This was all his. All left behind by his ancestors. His parents.
He leaned forward to pay attention as the goblin opened his mouth to start explaining.
"First and foremost, all your vaults will be taken out of stasis. All investments will be started back up again, and we will start investing in up and coming businesses. If, the young heir agrees?-" He raised his non existent eyebrow expectantly.
"Yes, of course. That- that sounds good." Harry hurriedly nodded in agreement.
"Good. Next up, you'll receive a statement on all previous activity and withdrawals made in all vaults. A few artefacts have been taken by your magical guardian, but based on your expression you weren't aware of this? We thought as much. We will make sure all artefacts, books, and gold are returned. You will be paying a fine for this, of course." Magical guardian? "Aside from this, would you like to take one of your many properties out of stasis?"
Harry blinked, "Where are these.. houses located?"
The goblin picked up the pages with clawed fingers and read, "You have the Potter mansion in Scotland, Godric's Hollow in Wiltshire, Stag's haven in Salisbury, a town house owned previously by your great-uncle in Portsmouth, three vacation homes in India, Kenya, and Germany respectively, and a few smaller establishments across the globe. These are the properties owned by the House of Potter. Would you like a list of all your properties, all houses included?"
Harry nodded hesitantly, "Yes please, sir."
The goblin stared at him for a second before handing him a small stack of papers. All pages were filled with locations travelling all across the world. He had to own at least 30 properties in England alone! Not to mention all the vacation homes, manors, and even the occasional castles. This was mad. He'd never even remember half of these.
"Can you just keep them in stasis for now, please?" Harry asked softly. He deemed it unnecessary to use any of these right now when he'd be leaving for boarding school in less than a month. Besides, he could always access them if he changed his mind in the future.
"Very well. That is all business for now. We will owl you all documents you need to look through or have access to. Now, onto your heirship rings." The goblin placed three small jewellery boxes in front of him, opening them with a snap of his fingers. He gestured to them, "Put them on your fingers. If the family magic accepts you, the rings will protect you against small compulsions and minor legilimency, as well as weaker potions that affect your will in any way."
Harry picked up the first ring, recognising it as the Black family heir ring. It had the crest of the House of Black imprinted on its silver head, standing proudly on top of its shiny shank. He looked closely at its base, noticing the words 'toujours pur' engraved into it. He went to slip the ring onto his right middle finger, but was stopped by the goblin clearing his throat.
"The ring finger is for a marital ring. That one should go on your index, showcasing the house's strong authority." The goblin said sternly, clearly knowledgeable on the topic. Harry nodded quickly and slipped the ring on his index finger, shuddering at the ghostly feeling that went through his body before settling with a hum.
He picked up the Potter heir ring next, noticing its pretty navy colours weaving around the large bird on the head crest. The ring's band was a sleek gold, shining in the light. He looked up at the goblin to see where this one should go.
"Your left middle finger. It showcases individuality. The Potter's were known for doing what was right, even when it went against the norm." The teller explained, the lightest hint of respect seeping into his voice.
Harry nodded with a mumbled 'thank you', and slid the ring onto his left middle finger as told. He stiffened at the unfamiliar feeling, before recognising it as a warm embrace. He imagined this was what being hugged by a loved one must feel like. He felt all warm and safe, like he couldn't be hurt by anything or anyone. It was a nice change.
He returned his attention to the last ring. The Peverell one. He picked it up carefully. It was heavier than the other two, but also less flashy. It had some type of symbol on its crest that didn't look like a typical coat of arms. It was a triangle with a circle inside of it, and a vertical line going perpendicular to the bottom of the triangle.
"Left index. it shows ambition and, again, authority. No self-respecting wix will deny the Peverell's had both in spades," The goblin said grimly.
Harry thanked him once more and slid the, also golden, ring on his left index finger, pairing it nicely with the golden Potter one. He felt a shiver going down his spine as the ring suddenly tightened around his finger, nearly stopping the blood from circulating. After a few seconds it loosened, still too tight to pull off, but less suffocating.
Harry took this as a sign of acceptance and looked up at the goblin, "Excuse me, sir? If I may ask.. Why do I only have three rings but five heirships..? Not that I'm not grateful, but-" Harry's rambling was cut off by the goblins raised hand.
"The lord of the houses Slytherin and Gaunt have to accept their heir specifically, unlike the other houses. Thus, until the current lord deems you as his heir, you cannot officially claim ownership of the heir ring. You can make use of the vaults, but that is where your authority ends. Now then, last but certainly not least, your vaults. I assume you wish to collect some gold?"
Harry nodded hastily at the creature's words and stood up when the creature himself did so. He made sure to stay behind the goblin as the left the room and went down the labyrinth of halls once more, eventually arriving at some type of mining cart.
He got inside the wagon after the goblin and took a seat, lurching to hold onto something as the cart suddenly shot forward, nearly making him fall off. He could swear he heard the goblin chuckle as he held on tightly to the railing. He tried to look around as they drove, but the cart was going so fast that the only things he could see were the dark, grey caves surrounding them on every side.
Finally the cart came to a stop, and Harry quickly got out, glad to be on stable ground again. They had stopped in front of a large door, showcasing the Potter family crest on the front. This must be the main vault, not the heir one.
The large stone door was at least three meters tall, reaching the high ceilings of the cave.
The goblin took out a key and opened the door, stone curling off to the side to reveal mountains and mountains of gold, silver, bronze, and gems. Not even mentioning all the artefacts, books, and other things that were spread throughout the large, unending room.
Harry gasped in wonder as he stepped inside. This was all his? And to think there was even more..
He looked down as the goblin handed him a pouch, as well as his key. "It's a bottomless, featherlight bag. Used to carry gold," The goblin explained. "We've already taken the fee from your vault," He grinned.
Harry nodded hesitantly, not sure what to say. "Thank you, sir.. But these coins don't look like pounds.."
The goblin barked a mean laugh, "As if we'd use such pathetic muggle ways. No, child. These are galleons, sickles, and Knuts. One galleon is seventeen sickles, and one sickle is twenty-nine Knuts. For your information, one galleon translates to roughly seven pounds in British muggle money."
Harry gaped at him. That was so much money..
Instead of replying he just went up to a pile of coins and started putting them in the featherlight bag. He made sure to get mainly galleons, but collected sickled and Knuts as well. After a few minutes he was sure he had at least over fifteen hundred galleons, which would definitely last him a while. Shockingly, but unsurprisingly, it didn't even make a dent in the vaults content.
Harry left the vault a lot richer at the goblins side. He had his key, so he could always get even more.
Finally, Harry was back at the entrance of the bank, saying his goodbyes to the goblin that had helped him. He'd been given another bag, no doubt already paid for by his vault, to carry all the documents and the pouch. It was pick-pocket proof, as well as featherlight.
"Thank you so much for your help, mister Silver tooth." Harry smiled, bowing slightly.
"Very well doing business with you, heir Potter-Back-Peverell. May your gold ever flow." The goblin nodded. Harry blinked in confusion at the phrase, but replied respectfully, "Do I say the same thing..?"
The goblin grinned, "you can reply in kind. Either with 'may your enemies tremble at your feet', or some other variation."
Harry nodded, and tried, "Alright.. May your enemies shiver at your name..?" He hesitated, hoping he did it right.
"very good." The goblin nodded, turning away to hobble back further into the bank. Harry sighed in relief, exiting the bank a lot richer than he entered. He was exhausted, and it was already getting dark out. He decided to get a place to sleep first, and to get clothing and everything else he'd need tomorrow.
Now, where to spend the night?