Diagon Alley
Harriet looked around with a wide eye. Diagon Alley was beautiful in an entirely different way than she was used to. It was chaotic, colourful, bright. It was rather crowded as well. There were so many people. Harry had never seen so many people in one place.
Outside the nearest shop there was a stack of cauldrons. The sun made them glitter in different colours. As they walked past an apothecary, she could see many different herbs and animal parts laid out. Some of them looked like they could only be from fantasy creatures. There were even some mushrooms inside glass jars that emitted a deadly looking fume.
From a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium she could hear soft hoots emitting. A different shop had a window with broomsticks in it – was that a thing? Did wizards and witches really travel around with broomsticks?
The next shop they passed was a library. But it wasn’t like the one back in Surrey. The one in Surrey was neatly ordered and looked almost clinical. This one had tottering piles of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment. There were books that looked like they would fall apart if she touched them. It was very… whimsical.
At the end of the alley was a snowy-white building with silver doors. It towered over all the other little shops. Standing at its doors were two short creatures with pointed beards and very long fingers and feet.
With wonder in her eye, she whispered to the professor accompanying her: “What are they?”
“Those would be goblins, Miss Potter. They are a prideful race. You would do well not to offend them. They oversee Gringotts, the only Wizarding bank in Britain. We will go there to get money from your vault.” Professor Quirrell continued walking towards the bank with brisk steps.
“I have a vault? As in a bank vault?” Harriet hadn’t known that. She honestly hadn’t been sure how to get all of her school supplies with the little bit of money she had managed to take from her relatives. They obviously didn’t give her any pocket money, but Dudley always forgot to put away his change and Uncle Vernon didn’t notice if there were a few coins or smaller bills missing from his wallet.
“Yes, of course you do. The Potters might not have been the oldest family in Britain, but they did gain a substantial amount of money from selling potions and other business ventures. It is rumoured that your grandfather Fleamont Potter singlehandedly quadrupled the Potter family’s wealth through his invention of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.” While he explained this, they walked through the silver doors of Gringotts. The goblins at the door bowed to them when they passed them.
Inside, there were hundreds of goblins working at an ornate counter. Some of them were scribbling in giant ledgers, others were weighing gold or precious stones. There were also many people around – wizards and witches Harriet supposed. Some goblins were leading them through the many doors lining the edges of the hall.
“My grandfather invented a potion? That’s so cool! Do you know anything else about my family?” Harriet assumed a potion was like medicine or something. The professor had said it was a hair potion and with the word sleek in its name, she guessed it made your hair sleeker. So maybe more like conditioner? Aunt Petunia had once tried to tame her hair with various types of conditioners. None of them had helped for long and her hair would just fly every which way again. Perhaps her grandfather had had the same problem?
“While I am not completely familiar with the history of the Potter family, I do know that they have brought forth many great potioneers and healers. However, we can continue this conversation later. Now, we will be getting money for your school supplies.” Professor Quirrell was looking at her askance. Oops, had she gotten carried away again? Harriet had never heard anything about her paternal grandparents before. According to Aunt Petunia all of her grandparents had passed away before she was born. Sometimes her aunt would talk to Dudley about her own mother and father, but even then, it would only be short stories and the bare minimum, as if even talking about them hurt her.
They walked to the counter. Professor Quirrell led her to a free goblin.
“Good morning. We have come to collect money from Harriet Potter’s vault. Here is the key.”
The professor pulled out a small golden key. The goblin inspected it closely, before saying: “That looks to be in order.”
Harriet was looking at the key as well. If that was the key to her vault, then it should belong to her, right? Why did the professor have it? She didn’t want to ask in front of the goblin, but she made sure to remember to ask about it later.
“Griphook will be taking you down to the vault. Griphook!” The goblin yelled the last part.
Griphook was another goblin. He was a bit shorter than the goblins guarding the doors, but his nose was larger and more crooked. Professor Quirrel and Harriet followed him towards one of the doors at the edge of the hall.
“Professor, why do you have the key to my vault?” Harriet asked.
“The headmaster, Dumbledore, gave it to me.” The professor answered smoothly, almost dismissively. As if he were trying to hide something.
“Why did he have the key? Shouldn’t it be mine?” Harriet wanted to know, even if Professor Quirrell didn’t want to talk about it. She had to know. She needed money, if she was ever going to get away from the Dursleys.
“I presume that after your parents died it was given to him for safekeeping until you started Hogwarts.” He answered. With a slightly amused look, he looked down at her and said: “Not to worry, Miss Potter. I will give it to you after we are finished here.”
“Ah, okay. Thank you!” Harriet was glad that she didn’t have to beg him for it.
Griphook led them through a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches until they came to little railway tracks on the floor. With a whistle from the goblin, a small cart hurtled towards them and stopped in front of them. They climbed in – Professor Quirrell sitting next to her and Griphook across from them – and were off.
They hurtled through twisting passageways. Up, down, left, right. One time, she thinks, they even made a loop, but she wasn’t sure about that with how fast they were going. If she had ever been allowed to go on a rollercoaster, she imagined this was what it would be like.
When they at last stopped beside a small door in the wall, Harriet got out of the cart with shaking knees. Griphook unlocked the door, which then emitted a lot of green smoke. When she could finally see inside, Harriet gasped. Inside there was a veritable mountain of gold, silver and bronze coins.
Professor Quirrell gestured for her to go inside. He explained: “The British wizarding world has a different currency than the muggle one. Galleons, the golden coins, are worth seventeen sickles and twenty-nine knuts are a sickle. The silver coins are sickles, and the bronze are knuts.”
When Harriet stepped inside of the vault, she could see that on one of the walls of the vault hung bags in varying sizes. She took one of them and asked the professor: “How much will I need for my school supplies?”
The professor considered her for a moment before replying: “Around fifty galleons should be enough for the supplies. I would recommend taking a bit more than that in case you want to get anything extra. Considering that you were unaware of the wizarding world before this, you should get some supplemental books that can teach you about our world.”
Harriet nodded and began to scoop coins into the bag. The weight of the gold, silver, and bronze coins felt both exciting and a little overwhelming. She had never held so much money before. As she filled the bag, she couldn’t help but think about all the things she could buy.
Dusa who had been silent until this point in time, decided to pipe up now: “What is that?” The snake was pointing at an object lying under a few coins in a corner of the vault. Harriet went over to it and pulled it out.
It was a black box, decorated with a crest. At the centre of the crest were the antlers of a stag. Nestled between the antlers was a bubbling cauldron and coiled around the base of the cauldron was a snake. The background of the crest was a rich, deep blue with accents of gold. The stag and cauldron were depicted in gleaming gold, while the snake had a dark red colour, standing out against the vibrant blue background. Beneath the cauldron, a banner unfurled with the words: "Par sit Fortuna Labori". Surrounding the crest were smaller symbols: a sprig with small, violet flowers, a vial filled with a shimmering potion, and an open book.
“Ouch.”
When Harriet tried to open the ornate clasp of the box, she felt a sharp prick on her finger, like she had stabbed herself with a small needle. She put her bleeding finger into her mouth and tried to see what she had pricked herself on. The clasp had no sharp edges, but it had been stained with a single drop of her blood. More careful now, she tried to open the clasp again. This time it opened without any problems. Inside there was a roll of parchment, a small portrait, a leather-bound journal and a necklace.
Harriet gently lifted the parchment from the box, unrolling it with trembling hands. The parchment was old but well-preserved. The handwriting was elegant and flowing, showing great care and precision.
To our dear grandchild,
If you are reading this, it means that time has carried us beyond the veil, leaving you to carry on our cherished legacy. We write this letter to you from our final days, as both of us are ill with dragon pox and know we don't have long left. Although we cannot be there to guide you in person, we hope that this letter and the contents of this box will offer you some comfort and guidance.
In this box, you will find a necklace that has been passed down through our family. It holds protective charms and will keep you safe in times of need. Wear it always and remember that you are never alone.
Our family’s tradition in potion-making is a source of great pride for us, rooted in the pioneering work of Linfred of Stinchcombe, also known as The Potterer. He was the very first of our line and a true innovator in the craft of medicinal potions. Our family crest reflects our heritage: the cauldron represents our skill in potion-making, the stag antlers reflect our bond with nature, and the snake signifies our devotion to healing.
Your father, James, though a brilliant and courageous wizard, does not share the same gift for potions that runs through our family. It is your mother, Lily, who excels in this art, bringing her own talent and dedication to the craft. We are grateful that her skill complements our family’s legacy, and we hope you continue this tradition with both pride and diligence.
In these troubled times, we hope for peace to return and wish for your safety amid the dangers that surround us. If you ever find yourself without your parents, we trust that Sirius Black will be there for you. He is like another son to us, and we hold him in the highest regard.
Remember, "Par sit Fortuna Labori" – let success be equal to your effort. With hard work and determination, you can achieve great things.
With all our love and pride,
Fleamont and Euphemia Potter
With shaking hands, Harriet lifted the necklace from the box. It was crafted from a delicate silver chain, with an intricate pendant featuring the Potter family crest. Tiny, shimmering gemstones were embedded around the edges of the crest. They glowed faintly. On the backside of the pendant there was an inscription in elegant script: "Par sit Fortuna Labori." When she clasped the necklace around her neck, she could feel a sense of warmth and security surrounding her.
Next, she took out the portrait. Depicted on it were a man and a woman. The man, who was most likely her grandfather, had wild black hair similar to her own and warm brown eyes. His features were striking, with a strong jawline and a gentle smile. Beside him, her grandmother’s brown hair was elegantly pinned back, framing her face in soft waves. Her eyes, a lighter shade of brown than Fleamont’s, held a compassionate and serene expression. She wore a tender smile that reminded Harriet of something she couldn’t quite place.
Suddenly, her grandparents waved at her. Surprised, Harriet nearly lost her grip on the portrait, barely managing to catch it before it fell to the floor. Hesitantly, she waved back at them, which made their smiles widen.
Lastly, she took out the leather-bound journal. Opening it, she could see on the inside cover an inscription: “May you find wisdom and comfort in these pages. With love, your grandfather and grandmother.”
As Harriet continued to examine the items in the box, her eye returned to the moving portrait. The depiction of Fleamont and Euphemia, with their lively expressions and warm gestures, captivated her. They seemed to come alive with each passing second, waving at her as if from a different time.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she turned to Professor Quirrell, who was watching her with an unreadable expression. “Professor, how does the portrait move like that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe.
After a moment, in which the professor seemed to gather his thoughts, he answered smoothly, “Ah, enchanted portraits are a special kind of magic. They are charmed to allow the subjects to interact in a limited way with the viewer. It is a way for them to leave a lasting presence and communicate their thoughts and feelings beyond the limits of a static image.”
Harriet's eye widened with fascination. “So, does that mean they can actually see and hear us? Does that mean my grandparents know what I’m doing right now?”
“No, this portrait is merely a semblance of them. The people depicted on it can only interact with the world in a very limited manner. Though there are portraits that allow for more than that. Some wizards and witches create portraits imbued with their memories and personality, which can converse and behave much like the actual person would.” Professor Quirrell explained all of this in a clear and concise manner. When she first met the man, he had seemed almost annoyed at her many questions. Now however, that wasn’t the case anymore.
“Thank you. I think I have everything I need from here now.” There wasn’t anything else of interest in the vault. Even Dusa, who had taken the opportunity to slither around the room, didn’t find anything else of interest.
---
After exiting Gringotts, Professor Quirrell led her to Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. They were the only customers at the time, so Madam Malkin, a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve, quickly measured her and finished the school robes for her. Harriet also got a few extra things, like new socks and a particularly nice-looking robe that Madam Malkin told her was casual enough for everyday wear. Harriet also bought a few simple, black eyepatches, so that she wouldn’t have to wear bandages all the time. They fit well enough that she was hopeful they wouldn’t slip.
Their next stop was a shop called Flourish and Blotts. It was filled with books of all sizes and in all kinds of languages. Some were full of peculiar symbols, while others had nothing in them. They gathered her school books, and after asking for the professor’s permission, Harriet looked around for some other books to buy. Professor Quirrell had given her a list of books that he recommended which included titles such as “Hogwarts: A History”, “Magical Families and Their Legacies”, “Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century”, “Notable Magical Names of Our Time” and “The Art of Subtle Spellcasting”.
When she entered the row of books about magical history, she noticed a girl with bushy brown hair struggling to reach a book from the top shelf.
“Come on. Just a bit further,” the girl muttered, stretching her arm above her head and standing on her tiptoes. Even then, she could just barely touch the book.
“Do you want me to get help?” Harriet asked. She herself wouldn’t be able to help the other girl, because she was even shorter than her.
“Ah! What?” The bushy haired girl looked around wildly. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see anyone come here. It’s just that I really need to get this book. It’s about the history of notable potioneers and was even referenced in Hogwarts: A History.”
The girl blurted all of that out without taking a single breath. She had a frazzled and excited air around her.
“Really? That sounds interesting. I haven’t been able to read Hogwarts: A History yet, but maybe I should get that book too.” Maybe there was something about her grandfather or even her ancestor Linfred of Stinchcombe in there.
“You should! It contains information about all the most important potioneers in Britain and even some outside of it. I’m Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger. Who are you?” The girl, Hermione, held out her hand which Harriet shook.
“I’m Harriet Potter, nice to meet you.”
“You are Harriet Potter? I read about you in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizardin Events of the Twentieth Century.”
“You did? Why am I in any books? I only found out that magic existed yesterday.” said Harriet dazedly.
“WHAT! There is no way. According to all the books I read you are the Girl-Who-Lived the only known survivor of the killing curse and the one who defeated You-know-who.” said Hermione with a shocked expression.
“I wasn’t aware of any of that. Professor Quirrell mentioned You-know-who before, but aside from that I haven’t heard anything like that. But like I said, I only found out about magic yesterday.”
“Wow. I didn’t know that. All the books I read made it seem like you were already aware of magic and everything. I also didn’t know about magic until I was eleven. But my eleventh birthday was in September last year, so I have already had some time to get used to it. My parents let me come to Diagon Alley alone sometimes so that I can get more books, since we already got all my school books a while ago.” Hermione was talking nonstop. Harriet wasn’t sure if she was even taking the time to breathe. It certainly didn’t seem like it.
“Oh, that’s cool. I wish I had known sooner as well, but I’m trying to figure everything out now. So, you are alone here? How will your parents know when to get you?” Harriet didn’t think it sounded safe for an eleven-year-old to go shopping alone. Though admittedly she also had gone shopping with an adult she barely knew. But her relatives weren’t the type to care about her and she knew that most parents should be more concerned than that.
“It’s fine. They are dentists, so they are usually busy anyways. They can’t always take me shopping when I run out of books to read. They will come to get me from the Leaky Cauldron at five p.m.” said Hermione unconcernedly.
“Oh, alright then. Do you still want that book? I can ask Professor Quirrell to get it for us. He is taking me shopping for my school supplies.”
“Would you? Thank you so much!”
And so, Harriet and Hermione made their way over to Professor Quirrell, who helped them get the books they wanted.
When they were finally finished at Flourish and Blotts, the sun was already high in the sky. Professor Quirrell suggested that they should stop for lunch somewhere.
"Would it be alright if Hermione joined us for lunch?" Harriet asked. "She’s here alone, and her parents won’t be picking her up until five." She didn’t want to part with her new friend just yet.
Professor Quirrell seemed to stiffen at those words. His lips tugged down for the slightest of moments, but then he had a neutral expression again. Harriet wasn’t sure if she hadn’t only imagined it.
The professor agreed and so they went to get lunch from a small restaurant in a side street. Hermione and Harriet were talking the entire time. Apparently, Hermione was a “muggleborn”, a witch born to two non-magical people. Ever since she found out about the wizarding world and magic, she had tried to read as many books about it as possible.
As they enjoyed their meal, Harriet felt a deep sense of contentment. Not only was she now part of this incredible world, but she had also made her first friend. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and Harriet found herself looking forward to the adventures and discoveries that awaited her at Hogwarts.