Survivor

The sound of early morning traffic and the various bustlings of London’s working citizens filled the air while the sun just barely began to peek over the buildings, which were now casting long shadows across the street. Harry’s eyes cracked open at the noises, and he tried his best to shake the tired fuzziness from his head. He looked to his left and right in an attempt to ease his nerves. As much as he hated himself for it, he grew too accustomed to the tight spaces of his cupboard to feel comfortable in such an exposed area. 

Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses for a few moments to try and get the watery film out of his vision, but it seemed he was going to be forced to endure it until it went away on its own. The boy’s muscles cramped from his sitting position, and his back screamed in protest to the night it spent jammed against a stone wall. Jason shifted against his stomach where he slept, coiled under his shirt and against his skin, to hold in warmth through the night. Harry wasn’t the only one who grew accustomed to the cupboard. Jason hadn’t had to worry so much about regulating his temperature for a while. 

Looking toward the street, Harry saw a few people walking back and forth to get to wherever they had to go. Harry looked down to the slight bulge in his oversized shirt and poked it gently.

“Are you awake? ”

“Yes,”  Jason responded lightly. “Are you going to go into the pub?”

“No better time than the present."

“Should I remain hidden? Or would it be better to enter an unfamiliar place with a display of power and confidence?”

It was a good question, and one that he hadn’t particularly thought of.

“We don’t know what these people can do or what they respect as power. There are too many unknowns to show our hand now. Stay hidden for the moment.”

Harry felt the snake wind around his body and rest his head lightly on the seam of his shirt sleeve. He had never been happy with his hand-me-down clothes, but he had to admit that it came in handy for the moment. The boy walked out of the alleyway that served as his bedroom for the night and strolled over to the place that he collected from Petunia’s mind. It looked a bit more worn down than it did in the past, but it was unmistakably the same place. A deep breath of air filled two tiny lungs before the door to the pub was pushed open, and Harry walked into the building. 

The boy kept his head down and immediately walked slowly but deliberately to the back of the shop. So many strange-looking individuals sat around each other at tables, laughing and talking animatedly to one another. They all donned robes of various colors, and they all seemed completely at ease with the strange things going on around them. Harry took a measured glance at one of the waiters swishing an odd stick around in the air while chairs previously stacked on top of one of the corner tables floated into the air and positioned themselves in preparation for the people who would presumably be filtering in throughout the day. 

Once he knew what to look for, it became apparent that pretty much everyone in the pub had one of those sticks somewhere on their person. Harry assumed that the few people who did not obviously carry one probably had it concealed within their extremely baggy clothing. The sheer number of oddities seemingly shared by every single person around him actually managed to make him feel like he was the odd man out. Harry begrudgingly admitted to himself that he would have actually looked more natural with a snake perched around his neck than appearing so utterly ordinary. 

He exited the store through the back and walked up to a brick wall. He knew there was a brick that he had to tap to gain access to the alley because Petunia entered the alley at least once in her life and watched a man whom he presumed to be a wizard open it with such a method, but she wasn’t paying anywhere near enough attention for him to dig out which precise brick it was. He wasn’t even sure if tapping it with his finger would do the trick. 

He stared at the wall for a fair few minutes before a feminine voice caught his attention instead. “Excuse me, young man, are you lost?”

Harry weighed his options in less than a second. He trusted the robed woman standing before him less than he had ever trusted a stranger before. His instincts screamed to him that she was most likely capable of being a very real threat, and the beast within him rumbled protectively at the thought of someone or something as powerful as it attacking the boy. He was, nevertheless, completely stuck here without help, and going back through the pub at this point would only put him further from his goal and in closer proximity to more magically inclined humans who would think much the same of him as this lady. If there was any time for him to see just what a magical human was like, it would be with an unsuspecting woman who didn’t have her hand on one of those sticks he saw the other wizards and witches using. He was very good at putting on an innocent act, and his extremely small frame would only add to the effect. It was now or never.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t know how to get into the alley.”

He effortlessly concealed a smirk as the woman’s curious eyes turned softer at the sweet boy’s plea for help. 

“Oh, you must be muggle-born, then. Where are your parents? Did they come with you?”

Harry’s mind raced at a mile a minute as he fought to understand the exact situation he was in. He remembered the manipulative stranger calling his uncle a muggle, and hearing it once again in such a context gave him a decent idea of what the word meant. It made sense that magical folk would have a word for people who didn’t share their abilities. It was unfortunate, though, that they seemed to share the same inclination that children required the accompaniment of an adult. This did, however, provide him with enough information to assume that children in this world were most likely not as powerful as himself if adults were just as concerned about a random child’s safety as a normal person would be. 

“I-I’m an orphan… I just got a letter from Hogwarts yesterday that told me to come here. My orphanage is nearby, so I walked on my own.”

The boy watched as the woman’s heart broke behind her eyes. He made sure to mix just enough apprehension into his voice to make it sound honest. Now that she was emotionally disarmed, she should be much easier to manipulate. 

“Oh, you poor boy! I cannot believe they left an uninformed child to figure out everything from a letter and roam the streets alone. They normally send someone to explain things to you and show you the way.”

Harry purposefully shoved his eyes toward the ground as if ashamed that he had to impose on another’s generosity while he twiddled his thumbs to imitate a level of immature nervousness that should suit the persona he built for himself quite nicely.

“Could you please help me get into the alley?”

Her eyes practically lit at the chance to help someone as unfortunate and confused as the helpless child he painted himself to be. 

“Why, of course. Look here.”

She pulled a wooden stick from a pocket in her robe and walked past him to stand in front of the brick wall. She pointed her wand at the bottom left brick.

“All you have to do is count three up and two across three times and tap that brick with a wand or a staff. I’m afraid you would not have been able to access Diagon Alley even if you did know the secret until you bought a wand,” she said matter of factly. “Hogwarts did you a great disservice by sending you here alone with nothing but a letter.”

She tapped the brick at the end of the pattern, and Harry watched in amazement as the bricks began to fold in on each other and spread from the middle of the wall until he could see the extremely busy street on the other side. 

“This is my free day, you know. Would you like me to show you around? You really shouldn’t have to do all of this stuff alone.”

Harry didn’t have to pretend to be uncomfortable with the idea of her following him around all day. He was so focussed on getting information from a woman in the clutches of sympathy that he did not consider what that sympathy might make her want to do later. Jason would surely be reprimanding him for his shortsightedness right now if he was not diligently remaining hidden under his clothing. 

“I… I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

She tisked at his response and smiled at his consideration. “Folly, what kind of Hufflepuff would I be if I didn’t look out for the next generation of students,” her smile turned into a smirk, and a mischievous gleam snuck into her eyes when she saw his ever hesitant expression. “Come, you must realize how useful it would be to have someone who knows the environment.”

Harry genuinely considered the suggestion for a second until he realized that she was appealing to a sense of judgment that the character he was playing should not have. He froze solid as he tried to find out what she managed to discover. Did she see through his helplessness? Did she see through some part of his story? Maybe even both?

The woman giggled at his bewildered expression. “Please… I spent seven years of my life in a castle full of Slytherins, and you think I don’t know how to tell when I’m being played?”

Harry took a scared step backward, and Jason readied himself to strike if need be. He severely overestimated how much she would underestimate him. Harry was banking on the assumption that someone with power equal to or greater than his would have a hard time seeing a child as someone who had the ability to put one over on them. So many terrifying images ran through his head at the thought of her deducing his real situation. Would they toss him into an orphanage for real? Even worse would be if they decided to send him back to the Dursleys with the knowledge that he was someone they would need to keep an eye on. He risked too much and got outplayed. The fear was so suffocating that he immediately reverted to how he was with the Dursleys and dove into the comfort of the side of him that held the power to deal with the things that he was too weak to handle. 

The woman’s eyes widened in concern and confusion while his own flashed yellow with barely withheld power. She knew what it was that she was looking at, and she was well aware of just how dangerous accidental magic could be. The woman immediately got to one knee in order to make her look smaller and let her smirk go back to a kind smile. She was treating the boy’s attempt to trick her as a game, but it was obviously much more to him than she thought. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. There's no need to be afraid of me. I’m a Hufflepuff, remember?”

Harry’s eyes drilled into her soul while his fear threatened to bring back the strange man’s whispers. He didn’t see anything in her eyes that would suggest she was being deceptive, and his vision then went to the back door of the pub and down the now open alley to make sure no one was watching them. He was physically unable to take her at her word, but he saw the olive branch for what it was. He did not have access to one of the tools that could get him into the alley, and he wouldn’t be able to teleport into such a crowded area during a time when the shops would be open. If her price for opening the gateway was for him to accept the offer of her temporary company, was that such a steep one to pay?

Harry dropped the persona with a controlled breath, giving her exactly one chance to make good on the minuscule amount of trust he just decided to place in her.

“I don’t even know what a Hufflepuff is.”

The woman made sure to keep her position on one knee when she answered. This situation was not so different from the business interactions she would have at work. Trust was something that she would have to gain with smaller give and takes until each of them knew enough about the other to go for bigger takes and riskier gives. The best thing to do right now was to be completely open and answer the small questions honestly.

“Hufflepuff is one of the four houses at the school you were invited to. Students are sorted in my house for their hardworking nature and astounding loyalty. Trying to hurt a helpless child would be against my nature.”

 Harry looked at her warily. He once again saw no deception within her, but he also had no real way of confirming that she was telling him the truth. He supposed that it would've been unfair of him to present that as the question and then criticize her answer on the basis of his lack of knowledge. It was a mundane enough explanation that he decided to continue instead of dwelling on the possibility of such a silly lie. 

“Why are you trying to help me?”

She cocked her head slightly, letting a bit of a playful attitude back into her visage. “Am I not allowed to help a kid when he looks like he needs it?”

Harry sneered just a little at the clever misdirection. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She sighed quietly. This boy had to be the most irrationally untrusting individual she had ever met. It was astounding that he made it this far if he was so unwilling to accept help from others. 

“I already told you; I saw a kid who needed help, I have nothing to do today, and I would like to think someone would've been kind enough to do this for me if I was in your position.”

Harry kept his shoulders tense and his glare suspicious, but he begrudgingly admitted to himself that she once again seemed to be telling him the truth. 

“Now… Do you think you could put away those eyes? They are very pretty, but I don’t think everyone will be as comfortable with them as I am.”

Harry’s glare did not go away, but his yellow eyes shifted obediently back to a vibrantly shining green. A relieved smile met him immediately after he allowed the beast to rest inside of him, but it wasn’t hard for him to resist the desire to smile back at the contagious emotions painted on her face. She stuck a hand out very slowly to him while keeping her other hand in clear view by her side the entire time.

“My name is Iris Garcia. It's very nice to meet you.”

Harry absolutely despised the position his inept attempt at manipulation put him in. Now, he had to once again choose between attempting to create a character and answering with honesty. He tentatively chose to trust her with the truth. It was only a name. He held out a tiny hand to grasp her own.

“Harry Potter.”

Their hands shook lightly between them for a few seconds before they both withdrew themselves from the brief moment of contact. 

“Well, Harry, would you like me to help you around Diagon Alley today?”

Harry was surprised to find that she was actually giving him a choice after what just happened between them, and he was equally surprised that her straightforwardly supportive nature actually managed to push him toward saying yes. He leaned on the fact that he could escape with the beast at any time and chose to allow her to help him. They were in public, and he was confident that she couldn’t do anything to him here. 

“Fine.”

She chuckled good-naturedly as if she saw right through his nonchalant attitude to the somewhat pleasant feeling in his chest. Harry waited for her to stand up and begin to walk before following along. At first, his eyes remained trained on her out of anxiety-driven reflex, but he began to look around the alley when the odd scenery finally overtook his cautious nature. 

Buildings leaned at odd angles yet remained standing despite the clearly unintelligent architecture put behind them. He was the only person in the entire alley dressed in clothing that he would deem normal. It was as if he stepped into a portal and came out in the middle of the medieval era. 

Owls flew en masse above the alley, and children ran around the streets carrying sparklers that drew various animated creatures, which were obviously magical in nature. He recognized absolutely nothing being sold in any of the shops lining the alley, and the various dirty stares thrown at him from some of the adults strolling the alley were beginning to make him feel even more exposed than he felt before.

More to himself than anyone else, the boy muttered, “Why do I feel like a quarter of these people hate me?”

Iris looked down to him with understanding eyes, “Well, you do look like a muggle in those clothes. Some of our people don’t very much like muggles. Not to worry. We will remedy that after we get you to Madam Malkin’s. Once you get the proper clothes on, hardly anyone will be able to tell you’re muggle-born.”

So he wasn’t going to fit in here either. Apparently, he was doomed to stand out no matter where he went, “I don’t have any money though. How am I meant to afford all of this stuff?”

She giggled at him a bit. “You were going to come here alone without knowing the answer to that question?”

Harry sneered at the slight to his intelligence, “I was planning on spending my first time here figuring out how you people work. I had until July 31st.”

Her amusement didn’t fade with his explanation. “You were telling the truth about being an orphan, correct?”

Harry nodded his head. He was technically under the Dursley’s guardianship, but he was unaware of whether or not their guardianship would apply here and unwilling to claim them as his legal parents even if they were. 

“Then you should be able to claim the grant given out to less fortunate students. It should cover your books and some second-hand robes. You might be able to get a small trunk too. Unfortunately, you will probably be unable to afford any pets of note.”

Harry smirked as Jason shifted against his body. Who would need a pet when they had a partner? “I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that.”

“You already have a pet?” Iris asked curiously as she maneuvered them through a small crowd gathered around a shop called ‘Flourish and Blotts’.

“In a way, yes, I do. He isn’t on the list of pets. Are they going to search me for one that isn’t explicitly allowed?”

“Mmmm… I doubt they will care enough to search you. They sometimes allow people in your situation to bring a usually disallowed pet in the interest of making you feel more comfortable. If your pet isn’t dangerous, then you should be fine.”

“He is perfectly docile.”

Harry smiled at the feeling of Jason bumping his egg-shaped head against his bicep. He certainly would’ve had something snarky to say about that if he could understand their guide.

The very top of a stark white building began to peek over the edge of the other buildings as they got further down the alley. More elegant-looking shops gradually began mixing with the more casual ones as they approached the magnificent, foreboding structure. One store, in particular, was experiencing heavy traffic, and Harry was bewildered to find that it was a shop selling broomsticks. He heard a few of the younger kids talking about a new model called a nimbus, and he knew his guide saw his amusement before he could conceal it. She quirked an eyebrow at him before glancing at the shop he was looking at.

“What?”

Harry decided that no harm could come from questioning her about something like this, so he decided to reply. “You guys really ride broomsticks?”

She looked almost offended at the question, and he would have backtracked had he not realized a second later that she was joking. “You better watch who you say that to. Wizards and witches all around the world treat broomsticks with reverence. People good at flying on broomsticks have the possibility of becoming very famous.”

 Harry took her at her word and found his eyes drawn to the odd stick of wood jutting awkwardly from Iris’s right pocket. His initial instinct was to keep his curiosity to himself and find out later on his own, but he did accept her offer for help. If she wasn’t willing to answer this with truth, he should have left long before now. 

“What is that stick in your pocket?”

The woman leading him through the alley did not lightheartedly take that question like she did the other ones he threw at her. “They really didn’t tell you anything, did they?”

Iris reached her right hand into her pocket and gently wrapped her fingers around the handle before pulling it out. “This is not a stick; it is a wand. They're made out of some kind of magical substance that is encased by some kind of wood. Every wizard or witch has one or more, and they are our most valued possessions. The wand initiates a bond between itself and a magical user it finds appealing. Very few of us can use magic on purpose without one. When you get one, I would advise you to keep it close to you at all times.”

Harry looked with a fascination he couldn’t conceal no matter how badly he wanted to. If turning into whatever he became at the Dursleys was considered purposeful magic, then he could do at least some magical things without a wand; but that just made him want one even more. He averted his eyes from the woman’s wand when she caught the look he was giving it. He saw the gears churning in her mind for a moment before she tossed the wand in her hand and caught it by the tip, presenting the handle to him.

He stared at the offer with eyes wide from shock. She just told him how important a wand was to a magic-user. It was an immense display of trust to give such a valued possession to a complete stranger. It was such an immense display, in fact, that he began to suspect that manipulation was hovering behind the offer. 

“Are you sure?” Harry asked with a frown.

She didn’t break the eye contact he just initiated as she answered his question, “Well, are you going to steal it from me?”

Harry looked at her as if she was dumb for even thinking to ask that question. It wasn’t as if he would tell her if he was planning on taking it. She smirked at his expression and once again pushed the wand toward him.

“It probably won’t fit you anyway, and you will be buying a wand that will fit you before our shopping adventure is over. Stealing my wand right now will be cutting you far shorter than it will cut me, especially if you think you'll be capable of escaping wizarding law enforcement for long.”

He accepted the explanation at the same time he accepted the wand, and something within him threatened to burst open as soon as his palm fell on the magical instrument. It was as if pools of power that he never knew he possessed suddenly appeared right in the center of his chest, and it felt absolutely immaculate. The invigoration that pumped through his body lacked the intensity given to him by the stranger, but it held a certain familiarity that the stranger’s power severely lacked. 

He looked up at the woman and almost blushed at the excited look she gave him while she watched him acclimate to the power. Wisps of energy that floated just beyond his grasp made his right eyebrow twitch in agitation, but he still felt better than he thought he ever had before. Something was off about the connection between him and the wand. He could see it very clearly now that he could feel the pools of energy that somehow eluded his senses until he possessed a wand. 

“You feel like this all of the time?”

“I imagine you will feel much better once you have a wand that chose you.”

She held her hand out, and he decided to give the wand back without the fight that something within him was begging for. The buzzing energy that once flooded his entire being faded into much less than a shadow of its former self, but he could still feel the small core of power now that he knew what to look for. It was an odd feeling to lose so much in less than a second, but losing the wrongness he felt between his power and the foreign wand was enough of a relief to balance the scales. Iris could see the conflict behind the boy’s eyes at once again becoming mundane and reassured him that a wand shop would be their first stop after getting some money. 

“This is Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Basically, all of Britain’s magic users keep their money here.” Iris said as they finally came upon the marble staircase leading to the bank’s front door. 

They opened the front door which led them into a corridor with large silver doors. Harry took a moment to read what was engraved in 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.”

He watched Iris nod grimly at his vocalization of the words that acted as the first interaction Harry had with the bank of Gringotts, “Remember those words. They speak for more than just this bank. Goblins are very protective of the riches they hold and the deals they make. Crossing one is good for your health only if they aren't going to be alive long enough to do anything about it.” 

She opened the silver doors for him, and Harry walked down the center of the bank while looking around at the strange creatures typing in desks lining the bank’s walls or otherwise analyzing and writing paperwork. Iris directed the boy to the front of the bank where a small being that Harry correctly assumed to be a goblin awaited their presence. Harry was not sure exactly what to say, but Iris seemed to be intent on doing the talking even if he did.

“Hello, we are here to claim the Hogwarts Grant.”

The goblin eyed her carefully before slowly and deliberately sliding his gaze to the scrawny boy standing beside her. 

“Name,” He demanded in a no-nonsense manner.

“Harry Potter, sir.”

Many might not have caught it, but Harry noticed the goblin’s eyes widen marginally at the name he said. The boy discretely looked around him to make sure that everyone else in the bank was still minding their own business. When he looked back at the goblin to see what caused the expression, it was obliterated and replaced with the neutral expression he had been wearing since they walked into the building. Iris’s ability to recognize his own deception clearly did not translate to goblins because she remained just as confident as she was before. Harry was far less sure of himself than his guide was.

“I hope you know that we are going to need blood for this.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the request, and he could tell that Iris was confused as well by the surprised look on her face. Harry was stuck in a situation he didn’t understand with a woman he didn’t trust and a goblin he trusted even less. He decided that it was in his best interest to defer to the only one there with enough knowledge to help.

“Is it normal to request blood?”

Iris hummed just a bit before answering, “Not usua-”

“For cases like this, we most certainly do.” The goblin cut her off without a second thought while he walked around the desk and toward the boy before holding out a sharp needle for him to take. 

Iris looked concerned as she watched the boy take the needle. “I see no reason why he would need to give blood for something as simple as a Hogwarts Grant. His name is either on the list, or it isn’t.”

The goblin scoffed at her words without responding to her. He did not take his eyes away from the boy as Harry contemplated the needle just handed to him. The sharp stick of metal descended without further hesitation, and it drew blood without a physical reaction from the boy. The tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife when the goblin reached his finger out and swiped the blood from the small wound. The creature stared at it for a few seconds before waving his other palm over the red droplet, allowing a greenish mist to float down from his hand and settle around it. Seconds passed in agony as the mist swirled and interacted with the red fluid, and the goblin’s eyes danced with emotions and intentions that Harry couldn’t even begin to place.

A harsh bark of laughter crept from the goblin’s throat, and his mouth twisted into a wicked grin as the green mist abruptly faded from existence, “My apologies for the inconvenience, mister Potter,” the goblin bowed eloquently at the boy before looking toward one of the other goblins standing behind the desk. “Griphook!”

Another goblin walked around the desk to meet them. He had a questioning gleam in his eyes until he got a silent nod from his kin. That bit of trepidation turned into an equally nefarious smirk upon realizing that this was the real deal. Griphook then quickly bowed to Harry before gesturing for the boy to follow. 

“This way, please.”

Harry’s anxiety shot through the roof while he tried to think about what to do while attempting to ignore the now alarmed expression on Iris’s face, “Can she come with me?”

The goblin named Griphook looked at him with a cocked head, “If you truly wish for her to come along for this, I would be foolish to deny you.”

Harry very reluctantly followed the goblin while Iris walked beside him. Just how many times was he going to get stuck in bad situations today? He felt so lost in such a strange place. He had absolutely no leverage in any of the conversations here. Hell, he didn’t even know the rules that applied here. He was prepared for something unfamiliar, but he horribly low-balled just how different this place was compared to the place he knew. He was an expert at talking around people in his world. It was a skill he arduously gained through trial and error with very harsh punishments for failure. It seemed like it was a skill he was going to have to completely relearn for this world if he wished to hold even an ounce of control in the interactions he had with magical beings. 

Harry could hardly believe what he was seeing when Griphook came to a stop in front of a cart that seemed to be attached to rails almost like a rollercoaster. It had a large, circular light that reminded Harry of the bulbs that sat on the hats of construction workers, but the machinery was startlingly alien to a person who grew up with modern engineering. He once again allowed Iris to decide if this was something they should do, but all he found on her face was a decidedly comfortable expression. This was apparently a normal thing for these people. At least something good was happening today. 

All three of them got inside of the cart, and Iris looked down at the boy sitting beside her. “Don’t worry. This is how everyone gets to their vaults. Were your parents magical?”

Harry didn’t have enough energy left to come up with some carefully concealed lie even if he wanted to make up a charade after so much honesty getting exchanged between the two of them today. “I don’t know… I never met them.”

Iris’s crystal blue eyes rounded in sympathy that Harry did not want in the least. His annoyance at her petty sadness on his behalf was erased once the cart started racing down the tracks faster than a speeding car. The wind whipped through Harry’s rather long hair in a way that felt absolutely wonderful to a boy who spent most of his life crammed in a dark cupboard. Down and down they went, and every time the vault number increased by 100, Iris’s eyes widen further.

300, 400, 500… 600.

the deeper into Gringotts they went, the more valuable the vaults became. when the vault numbers went up to the next 100, the security increased as well. Finally, the cart screeched to a stop in front of vault number 687. Another 13 vaults and they would've been entering the realm of doors that could only be opened by a goblin’s touch. 

The echoing of security trolls stomping around in the cave systems near them told Harry all he needed to know about the kind of security they were dealing with here. He hesitantly followed Griphook to a large, metal door, and he waited nervously for the goblin to finish fishing through his trousers until he revealed a rather petite, golden key. The goblin presented it with a bow while smiling at the ground. 

“Key to the Potter vault, sir. There is only one. Do not lose it.”

Harry shook his head in denial but still reached for the key and took it into his tiny hands, “Potter vault? What do you mean, Potter vault?”

The goblin cocked his head at the boy and looked at him as if he was daft, “What I mean, Mr. Potter, is that this is your family vault.”

Harry shook his head vehemently and returned the insulting expression back to the magical creature, “I know what you said; I just have no idea what the bloody hell you’re talking about. I’m an orphan. I didn’t even know this place existed until seven minutes ago.”

“Orphan or not, Mr. Potter, your blood says that you have money, and whoever gets the pleasure of doing business with you here is going to have a lot of money too. Your family is one of the most wealthy of the non-noble families, and your vault has been inactive for the better part of 12 years. Power is about to change hands now that it is about to start conducting business again.”

Iris was starstruck, possibly even more so than Harry, because she knew the kind of wealth that was sitting behind a 600 leveled vault. She was extremely well off, and she was only in the 500 vaults. Goblins didn’t joke about money. There was a reason they were so excited about the boy’s presence. Harry, on the other hand, was still in the middle of an ocean of repudiation. His emotions were beginning to run so high that he was forgetting the benefits of playing his hand close to his chest. 

“But I have been living with a family of normal people for 11 years! Why would everyone be letting me stay with them if I played such an important role!?”

The goblin smirked at the question, “That is a very good question, Mr. Potter, and one that I do not have the answer to. What I said remains the truth though. You are a very wealthy child. The fact that you have been living with muggles does nothing to change that. Take the key and see for yourself. It will only allow you to plug it into the door if you are of Potter blood. Why do you think we required some of it before we led you down here?”

Harry could scarcely believe what was going on as he walked up to the vault door. He barely even noticed that his guide was still standing next to him, giving him as much moral support as possible. He almost hoped that this was all a lie, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching his key toward the door, plugging it into the keyhole, and twisting it until a heavy click bounced against the rocky walls around him. The door began to swing open of its own accord, and Harry realized that the key was stuck in place when he tried to pull it out. 

Mountains upon mountains of golden coins stood in all of their glory before the trio. Iris was struck dumb by the sheer amount of it; Griphook couldn’t even begin to keep the look of greed and glee off of his face. Harry, however… Harry only felt empty. He was glad that the key was stuck into the door while it remained open because he couldn’t feel his hands at all through the terrifying numbness creeping up his limbs. He took a shaky step back and looked at Griphook, who seemed more than a little confused at his blatantly unhappy reaction.

“I-I don’t understand your currency… How much is this in pounds?”

Griphook’s confusion turned slightly contemplative as his eyes shot toward the ceiling while he thought, “Well… It would be hard to say currently. Your money has been making money for quite a while, and there hasn’t been a manager assigned to your vault to keep count since your parents passed away and, with them, the previously assigned manager.” He took a deep breath while looking over the piles of gold sitting literally several meters high before talking again, “If I had to hazard a guess, though, I would say somewhere in the tens of millions depending on the specific exchange rates at the time.”

Iris’s concerned expression did nothing to help the confusing mess of emotions exploding in his head. Harry had no idea how he was supposed to feel about this. Jason would, of course, say that he should be feeling nothing except for the desire to capitalize upon this gracious gift given to him at such a desperate time, but Harry just felt disgusted and cheated. 

“How long have I been able to access this?”

Griphook needed no time to answer that question, “If your parents or any other inheritors were here to take control of the vault, then you wouldn’t be able to access it until you were of legal age. You would have most likely been living off of some sort of trust fund until then. The fact that you are so very wealthy combined with the fact that you are the only remaining member who can take control of the vault means you could have accessed it from the exact moment that you could choose a manager or a solicitor to oversee the business you couldn’t handle. Either way, though, you would never be struggling for money.”

Harry’s confused emotions were no longer jumbled. Simmering anger won out by far. “Whose responsibility was it to tell me about this?”

“That isn’t within my knowledge, Mr. Potter. That kind of thing rests only within the hands of your Ministry. I would imagine that it would fall to whoever was taking care of you at the time, but I'm surprised they didn’t appoint someone to explain everything to you, considering you were left to live with muggles.”

“You would think,” muttered Iris, who had been thinking much the same thing since she met the poor boy at the alley’s entrance.

Harry was teetering on the edge of a breakdown as he looked between Griphook and the piles of cash he apparently could have been using for the majority of his small life. He previously felt like he had been trapped within unfortunate circumstances for so long; now, he felt as if he had been purposefully thrown in a cage.

“Years…” Harry mumbled under his breath with a growl. “Years, I have been living in a fucking Cupboard with those bastards, and I had all of this?”

Did they know? Did the Dursleys know that he had all of this money? Were the wizards cognizant of his situation all of this time? Was he left there on purpose to try and keep his vaults out of the playing field for as long as possible? He didn’t give a damn about all of the gold in the vault that was apparently his. He didn’t care about the money; he wanted fucking names. 

“What can I do with this money without a manager?”

“A bit. You can obviously take all of that money and spend it how you want. What you will really be missing out on is the ability to conduct long-term contracting and important business with other high-end clients… Investing and trading, that sort of thing. I am sure you can see why that could be disadvantageous with so much stagnant coin left in this vault.”

“Who can I choose?”

“Any goblin worth their weight could manage a vault. I would recommend that you choose someone high enough in our ranks to have respect among our people but not high enough for them to have other benefactors that might sway their loyalty.”

“Someone like you?” Harry asked snarkily, in far too foul of a mood to be playing games.

“Perhaps.” Said Griphook in response with a smirk, but he lost it as he gave the boy a generous piece of very serious advice. “This isn’t a game. I know it might not seem real to someone who found out about their money so suddenly, but many very rich wizards and witches have been reduced to nothing by trusting the wrong goblins. Whomever you choose, you must be certain that they are aligned with your interests.”

Harry couldn’t deal with all of this garbage right now. He needed to take many steps back and talk to Jason about everything before he did anything else of importance within this confusing world. He walked up to the ocean of gold and grabbed a few coins.

“How much are each of these worth?”

“Our currency is broken down by tens. Copper pieces are called knuts, silver pieces are called sickles, and gold pieces are called galleons. One galleon is 10 sickles, one sickle is ten knuts, and one hundred knuts is a galleon. Most of your basic items will be counted in sickles and knuts. Galleons are more often seen in larger purchases.”

Harry considered the explanation before asking something else. “How much would it cost to purchase a room from an inn for a night?”

“Anywhere from one to three galleons depending on the inn’s reputation.”

Harry nodded at that. A room in Britain averaged around 150 to 200 pounds; he researched it often whenever he got the chance, so that gave him a decent comparison. With that in his mind, he scooped up a pile of gold from the floor and jammed it into his pockets. He then lasered his eyes onto Griphook.

“I want you to find out exactly how much money is in this damn vault and what that amounts to in British pounds. Speak nothing of what you heard here, including my instructions. If you can do that, I will consider you for the position.”

Griphook almost choked on his own saliva at such a bold statement, but he was not one to overlook an opportunity. Something he did here today must have made an impression on the boy. He would be foolish to ruin that now by asking silly questions. 

“Of course, Mr. Potter, It will be done as soon as possible. There is quite a bit of effort that will go into discerning the modern value of certain older possessions, but I will contact you once I am confident about the total.”

Harry did not avert his gaze as he finished their business, “I will expect your correspondence once it is done. Can you send owls like the school did to me?”

“You will not have to worry about me contacting you. So long as you aren’t hiding under secrecy wards, the owls of Gringotts will find you.”

Harry turned with bleary eyes and walked back to the cart as if in a trance. Iris dutifully followed him back to the cart, but she could tell that the boy was completely shot. Her initial shock and awe dulled considerably while she watched him react to his wealth and converse with the goblin that brought them there. It was hard to imagine any child finding such a large sum of money to be a negative thing. He looked almost dead to the world as they flew through the tracks. It was such a stark contrast to the way he looked on their way down that it began to affect her emotions. 

The cart came to a stop where they first got into it, and Griphook let them out with kind parting words to the Potter boy. She noticed immediately how measured and mechanical the boy’s steps and posture were. He managed to hold it together until he made it out of the bank doors, but as soon as they closed behind them, she saw the boy’s shoulders begin to shake. They walked maybe another thirty yards before the boy abruptly turned and bolted down a desolate side alley. She turned to follow him without a second thought.

Iris was dead silent as she walked down the dark, musty street. The muffled echoes of the quickly crowding main street managed to reach her ears, but the only sound she was focussed on was that of ragged, shaky breathing. She could tell that the boy was somewhere just up ahead within an indentation in one of the shop’s walls. Slowly, she peeked around the corner and saw a huddled mass of oversized clothes rocking in the corner next to a collection of trash cans. The boy’s knees were pulled all the way up to his chest, his arms were wrapped around them, and his head was stubbornly shoved into his folded arms. 

Iris held her breath as she approached and knelt down to more equal the child’s height. She hesitated for just a moment before deciding to reach her arm out. She was stopped by a distinct hissing noise coming from the bottom of the child’s shirt. She jumped back in equal parts fear and surprise, and she almost decided to leave when the egg-shaped head of a snake popped out of the hem of the boy’s shirt and glared at her warningly. The desire to distance herself from whatever the hell was going on here was intense, but something about the way the boy’s body trembled every few seconds kept her glued to the street to seep in the very negative thoughts going through her head. Snakes, needless to say, were very rare pets for modern wizards. It wasn’t as if she expected the stigma to extend to mages who grew up without knowledge of their world, but she couldn’t help the way she felt about seeing a child so obviously attached to such a creature. 

The snake continued to watch her for many moments before it turned and slithered up the boy’s torso, worming its way into the hole between his thigh and his armpit. She saw the boy try to push the snake away, but it continued to wriggle into the space until its head completely disappeared. A reluctant huff of laughter followed the creature’s invasion of his self-forged shell. A strangely organized and rhythmic hiss came from the snake, and the spine-chilling sound of a human hissing back pushed her fear into the realm of horror. That boy was a parselmouth. 

She shied further away from the monster she saw curled on the ground as he lifted his head up with a neutral expression on his face and puffy, red eyes. His breathing finally managed to slow to something resembling the normal intake of oxygen, but the woman’s breaths were frighteningly close to switching positions with him. Her wide eyes and dilated pupils watched every single movement the boy made as she noticed his expression go from neutral to that of loathing recognition. 

He knew that look all too well. It was one that he used to see on Vernon’s face every single time the man gifted Harry with his scathing attention or the one on Petunia’s on the night of his departure. It was the look of fear… Disgust, the look of someone normal belittling a freak. He would have laughed at the fact that he really was never going to find a place where he didn’t see that horrid expression if it didn’t hurt so much. He covered the pain with a sneer. He was used to this. It was foolish for him to have even played with the idea of someone helping him out of the kindness of their hearts.

“Huh, so much for your ‘understanding’ nature. Just get the hell out of here. I’d hate to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Fear clouded Iris’s mind like a dementor’s depressing fog, and she wished that it wasn’t so easy for her to see past the snide charade, but she could all the same. Jason flicked his tongue at her threateningly, and the boy’s false smirk at her flinch only made her despise her own understanding further. She wanted nothing more than to walk away and move on with her day like Harry so kindly suggested… Perhaps if it wasn’t for the way he tried to mask his shivering with the shaking of his right leg, she would have acted on her desire. 

It went against every single thing she learned and experienced in her entire life, but she forced herself to ignore her instincts in favor of looking at the boy as he really was. The amount of effort it took was staggering, but every second she spent dissecting the boy’s scowl managed to convince her more that this was nothing more than a child. A small voice in the back of her head told Iris that Voldemort was once a child too, but she somehow managed to find it in herself to push it away. 

Harry was so confident in what was about to happen that he would have bet every single gold coin in his newly discovered vault. His world almost flipped when the look he knew so well displayed an emotion that he would have previously thought could never reside within it: conflict. So many people looked at him that way. His teachers, his cousin, his aunt and uncle, not a single time had he ever seen even an ounce of turmoil in their fear-induced hatred. It was so shocking to watch someone attempt to reconcile with their loathing that he quite forgot to hold the sneer. Unfortunately for Harry’s sound perception of the world and his cynical opinion of its occupants, that left his real emotions without a veil. Iris only had to look at how hurt the boy was by the way she reacted to him for her to retake control and toss the fear from her eyes. No dark wizard would be able to look at her like that. 

Harry couldn’t understand what was happening when the kind smile that greeted him at the entrance to the alley came back to greet him again, unstable and jittery though the smile may have been. It wasn’t hard for him to tell that she was still very much uncomfortable, but he was completely lost on what to do when someone so obviously unsettled by him actually worked to get over it and treat him like a human being. her hands still trembled in a very familiar way, but she very slowly stepped toward him and crouched onto his level like she was going to before the snake came out from under his shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. Talking to snakes is a very unusual skill. I’m afraid that some of the people with your ability have sullied its reputation. It shocked me, but I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What the hell was he supposed to feel about any of this!? Nothing made sense anymore. From the letter, to the alley, to the bank, to this very side-alley, things had only been getting progressively world-shattering. His heart hammered in his chest, and he mentally clung to the support that was practically flooding from Jason while he peered distrustfully at the woman. Lost as he was, the only thing he could do was say the first thing that came to mind. That it was a comment on his displeasure at such an unfair treatment was merely coincidental and so very understandable.

“So I’m an unsavory person because I can talk to snakes?”

Iris took the criticism right to the chest, and the way she completely accepted it didn’t help Harry’s confusion in the least. 

“No… No, it doesn’t make you a bad person. That’s why I’m asking you to forgive me for how I acted. You did nothing wrong.”

To her credit, she did not react in the slightest when the snake subtly hissed at the boy in a way that clearly showed an intelligence she would not have attributed to a snake. Harry looked at her with wary eyes even though he was completely clueless as to what was going on with the woman kneeling before him.

“Jason doesn’t trust you.”

That was all he could think to say, the only thing he knew for sure that he could throw at the person he didn’t understand at all. She lost ground by being so close-minded, so she took some time to come up with a response that would show she was not going to make the same mistake again. She considered it fortunate that her method of redemption was so adamant about telling Harry of his suspicions. 

“Well, why don’t you ask Jason what I would have to do to change that.”

She hesitantly let a smirk fall on her lips at the boy’s expression. The snake’s insistence on her untrustworthiness ironically gave her the chance to show the black-haired boy that she could accept his abnormal abilities once she was prepared for them. Almost nervously, as if the boy had never experienced someone actually requesting him to use his gifts, he looked at the vibrantly colored snake and hissed at it. He looked back up to her and reluctantly translated whatever the snake hissed back in English. 

“He said you could avoid upsetting me again.”

Iris let out a soft, girlish chuckle at the amount of sass apparently contained within the reptile, “Well, you can tell Jason he doesn’t have to worry about that. It was a moment of panic, nothing more; it won’t happen again.”

Harry stared at her in a way that made her think he didn’t believe her at all. She didn’t think he would. That didn’t stop her from pushing forward. 

“Do you still want to finish shopping today?”

Harry shook his head to tell her no. He was made of time at the moment. There was no need to start doing important things while he wasn’t in the right headspace.

“Were… you telling the truth about living in an orphanage?” She asked not unkindly.

Harry was still afraid of what the consequences might be for being parentless in the wizarding world. He didn’t know enough about their laws. It was difficult for him to tell the truth considering all he stood to lose if things went unfavorably, but he already let it slip that he lived in a cupboard instead of an orphanage. Living in a home for parentless children, Harry thought, would probably have been preferable to whatever the hell it was that he got from his guardians. 

Confident that he could still access the beast if he needed to leave quickly, he shook his head once again. He was pleasantly surprised that she pushed not even an inch further into his situation, instead deciding to ask a different question.

“Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

Despite the anger he still held for the mystery surrounding his monetary situation, the interaction he just had with Iris left him far too bewildered to linger on his negative emotions. It was because of this that he smirked just a little as he pulled a few gold coins from his pocket. 

“I will pretty soon."

Harry could tell that she was concerned about something. He was not surprised by the response she had to his comment. 

"You're going to be on your own?"

Harry snorted loudly, "please, you saw how much money I've got. I haven't had a night as easy as this one will be in years."

Iris frowned just a little, “Do you know anywhere that you can get a room at? Do you even know where we are in the city?”

Harry thought that she was overthinking this far too much. It was early in the morning, and all he had to do was find someplace in the alley where he could get a room. With the amount of cash he had on him, the rooms might as well be looking for him. Failure was literally impossible.

“It really isn’t a big deal.”

Iris was still extremely uncomfortable with leaving the boy on his own. He didn’t look nearly as confident as his words would make him seem. She could tell he was still extremely bothered by what happened at the bank, and he was already uncertain about how to operate in her world without the added drama given to him by his vault in Gringotts. 

“Well, you know,” she said with a grin. “We agreed that I would accompany you through your first shopping trip in Diagon Alley, and we haven’t done that yet.”

Harry was about as uncomfortable with the thought of her continued presence as she was about leaving him alone, but he didn’t say anything in response to her offer, so she continued.

“Come, I’ll bring you back to the Leaky Cauldron and talk to Tom for you. I know him pretty well; he won’t ask any questions. We’ll get two separate rooms for a week, and we can spread your shopping throughout it. If you want me gone after that, I will feel comfortable enough with your ability to navigate the alley to leave you to your own devices.”

Harry looked less like he was about to bolt at the drop of a coin, but he still remained rooted to his spot against the building wall.

“You don’t have to stay to help me. I’m not your responsibility.”

“Aren’t you?” she asked seriously. “I told you I would help you. Don’t you think that meant I was taking responsibility?”

Harry was far too emotionally exhausted to argue further, so he only nodded and stood up after allowing Jason to go back under his shirt. He could tell that Iris was pleased with his decision, and he noticed that her hands ceased their shaking moments before her offer to stay with him this week. Was it possible that she was actually being honest with her response to Jason’s accusations?

“I thought you told me that you would help me today because it was your free day. You’re going to miss your job just to help me? Did you lie?”

She did not falter under his critical stare, “I didn’t lie, no more than you did anyhow. As long as I meet my deadlines, I have as much free time as I like.”

Harry didn’t believe her for a second, “And you can afford to take an entire week of free time?”

Iris flicked a strand of her long, wavy, blonde hair out of her face in a nonchalant show of confidence, “I’m good at what I do.”

She turned sympathetically serious for a second, and she frowned when the boy averted his eyes at the look on her face, “Are you okay?”

Harry wrinkled his nose at the question as if it was a personal insult to inquire about his well-being, “I’m fine. It was just a lot to take in.”

She couldn’t say that she was familiar with his particular circumstance, but Iris understood the feeling that came with it very well, “It will become more natural to you as time passes. It is perfectly normal to get overwhelmed sometimes.”

With that piece of advice given, she stood back up to her full height and asked if he was ready to go. At an affirmative nod, the two strolled back towards the main street and traveled to the inn to purchase their rooms.