Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Consequences of a prepared mind
AN: To all those Latin scholars out there please forgive my bumbling attempts. Any corrections you have, please feel free to let me know.
o0O0o
Harry awoke to the slamming of the front door. Smiling he fumbled for the light and reached to get dressed. How it was his fault that Dudley was so wide that Smeltings clothiers didn't have uniform in his size he didn't know, nevertheless it was of course, his fault. The towering rage of his uncle coming home, and the dirty looks from his aunt convinced him for a moment that they had somehow known about the letter. But no, it was his fault apparently that they had to get a tailor made uniform and that the cost could be enormous (though their little Dudikins was worth it). And so he was forced back into the cupboard and the bolt was drawn.
The threat of no food for days didn't hurt as much as it used to. With Dudley's eating habits and the sporadic application of some of his 'gifts', their habitual starvation was little more than threats as he was able to sneak out of his cupboard at night when they had all gone to bed. By taking a little here and there it was never missed, and with planning and a little warning he was sometimes able to hoard a little food to last him for days. His hording skills had improved over the years. The use of an empty pop bottle for tap water and a loose floorboard to hide those plastic takeaway dishes filled with crisps, fruit and occasionally some bread or meat. Not a banquet by any stretch of the imagination, but in comparison to staving for days it was brilliant. But there was one aspect of his hoarding, one could almost say stealing (and his relatives definitely would), he was somewhat uncomfortable with, for though justified it just never sat right. This was of course the rather large bag of money he had accumulated over the years.
His uncle it seemed had the habit of leaving loose change in his pocket and when sitting down on the sofa or putting his clothes in the wash, he never seemed to miss the difference. The first time Harry had found a pound coin in between the sofa cushions he had immediately given it to his aunt, who in the fairness that was his world, locked him in his cupboard for three days for stealing. Now it didn't need a great amount of intelligence to figure out the best way to go about hiding the money, was to wrap it in a pillow case and hide it in the further most corner of his cupboard, where his aunt would never check.
He never actually stole any money from the wallet of his uncle, but by short changing the shopping money and picking up discarded change he was able to collect a hefty five or ten pounds a week. Justified in the accumulation of his 'pocket money' through hard work, if not exactly kosher means, he had a goodly amount stashed away for the day in which he could leave Privet Drive for good. And this was the money he had hoped would enable him to buy his school things. He just hoped that by limiting his spending and by buying second hand things when possible he would be able to live well enough for the next couple of years until he could make his own way in the world.
A smart tapping on the door startled him out of his musings of the stack of paper notes before him. It had taken a while but he was now a regular customer at the post office, changing the collected coins for paper notes, coins clanked so much and took up so much room, he thought it only best that he minimise the chances of getting caught. Another knock on the door hastened his movements and with a concentrated burst of power, he saw in his mind the bolt on his cupboard sliding unlocked. The accompanying click followed by the door swinging open caused a small smile to fill his face. Magic, for that was what it must be, seemed to be one of the best things he could dream of. Quickly reaching the front door, he opened it slightly and peered out. A risky business opening the door when he was supposedly locked in his cupboard, but the Dursleys wouldn't have knocked and the neighbours barely gave him the time of day.
Stood outside the door was a man. Well he assumed he was a man. Standing at the same height as Harry himself, he was dressed in a smart if slightly old fashioned three piece suit.
"Hello," he whispered. Something about the man was making him feel different. Like when he used his 'gifts' he felt a sort of power, and there was more power rolling of this small man than he had expected due to his size.
"Good morning, Mr Potter I presume?" Though phrased as a question Harry didn't think he actually needed a response. Something about the way he looked at him, the way his face softened just slightly, made him think he should know him.
"Yes, nice to meet you. And you are?"
"Ah, yes, I am Professor Filius Flitwick, Mr Potter. We received your letter yesterday and I was assigned to help show you around our world. Might I come in?"
Wordlessly he nodded and let him enter the house. Leading him to the living room he allowed him to take a seat before perching on the end of the sofa. After a quick look around and a few raised eyebrows Professor Flitwick turned to look at him.
"It's real then, what was said in the letter. I was wondering if it was just some huge sort of prank."
Mouth twitching in memories at the word prank he looked at the boy who it seemed had no idea of just who he was. He had understood Albus' decision to leave him here (though uneasy over Minerva's objections), away from the acclaim and attention he would have received. But even he had assumed that his relatives would have said something to the boy.
"Yes Mr Potter the world of magic is real, and you are a Wizard just like I am." With a flick of his wrist his wand was in his hand and suddenly some of Aunt Petunia's precious figurines were tap dancing on the mantle. Wincing at the thought of her coming home to broken china, he attempted to divert the professor's attention away from the performance of tricks and back to answering some of the many questions he had.
"You know Sir, that my relatives don't like anything abnormal in their lives, and well, I don't think they will like me going to a magical school. I definitely can't see them paying for anything." A pensive silence met this pronouncement. Harry hoped as hard as he could that another feat of magic would occur and the tiny professor would have a solution to one of the main factors preventing him from his dream – getting away from the Dursleys.
"Well Mr Potter, whether they mentioned it to you or not, your guardians do know about magic. How could your aunt not, after all her sister was a witch and went to Hogwarts when she was eleven. No Mr Potter they know, though why they didn't tell you is anyone's guess. And with regards to the cost, your parents were very wealthy. Your father was the last heir to a very old line of families, not only the Potter's, and they set up a trust fund for you for your schooling and other necessities. Normal procedure in any case, for the heir to such fortunes but with the spectre of war it was common sense to make sure you were well provided for."
Now, Harry was intelligent and well versed with conversing with adults, but even so it took a few moments for the implications to set in.
"War?"
And so followed the history of Lord Voldemort, his rise to power and devastation of the Wizarding World stopped on that memorable Halloween Night, with him left with nothing but a scar. The fame of his name had barely set in before the professor, on looking about the room enquired as to the location of his relatives.
"Oh, they went to get my cousin school things, they won't be back for a while."
"Alright Mr Potter, I assume you would like to pick up your school things now, we have all day, but these things always take longer than one expects."
Professor Flitwick seemed a mine of information about the Wizarding World, and Hogwarts in particular. As head of the brainy house Ravenclaw, he seemed rather pleased at all the questions and Harry's thirst to learn. While trying not to be too biased he strongly hinted that he would welcome Harry into his house if he was so chosen, though remained rather closed lipped on just how students were sorted. After a rather uncomfortable trip on something called the Knight Bus, they arrived at a dingy looking pub The Leaky Cauldron. Quickly ushered through to avoid any staring Harry found himself staring at a brick wall that then melted away after a few purposeful taps of a wand.
Diagon Alley, the main shopping district of the Wizarding World was full of sights and sounds never seen before, and Harry thought that he would get crick in his neck from trying to see everything at once. The marble face to the bank only impressed him further, especially after seeing goblins for the first time. Not knowing that the usual wizards comportment towards goblins was little more that pained sufferance, he found himself being particularly polite to the goblin teller. Harry had decided that it was always a good idea to be extra especially nice to those that kept your money secure. After a surprisingly short wait they reached the teller and Harry allowed Professor Flitwick to start the conversation.
"Mr Harry Potter would like to make a withdrawal from his Vault."
"And does Mr Harry Potter have his Key?" For a second panic ran through him. Key? Why would you need a key? But the smooth handing over of a gold key smothered any questions for now.
"Griphook will escort you to your vault. Griphook!"
Another goblin appeared at their side, took the key and then gestured for them to follow. For a magical society that could have no end of ways to move around, the use of mine carts seemed rather backwards, but for all his experience of first impressions being deceiving, he kept quiet, puzzling out the mystery in his head. At the arrival of his vault, and the discovery of so many mounds of gold, silver and bronze coins, the questions in his head doubled. It seemed as if he wouldn't have to be as frugal as he thought. Let alone not needing to touch any of his 'muggle' money.
After seeing the look on the clients face a few things became clearer to the goblin Griphook.
"The gold coins are galleons, the silver ones sickles and the bronze ones knuts. Twenty nine knuts to a sickle, and seventeen sickles to a galleon, quite simple really. Your trust fund of course is of the tantum superstes familia [1] category, though I am sure you are aware of that?" The leading tone of that question led Harry to scrub up on his memory of basic Latin.
"No I didn't, I didn't even know of the existence of such a vault until an hour ago." This seemed to be the right answer as Griphook nodded to himself, and then peered at the confused looking Professor Flitwick.
"As such I doubt you have been receiving your monthly statements? No? Well we at Gringotts will look into this at once, perhaps you would be able to visit at a later date in order to talk with your account manager?"
While this was being said they were led back to the cart after a larger than possible amount of coins were placed inside a small leather pouch. Harry nodded and memorised what he had been told about the process of using the weird owl post as a form of communication.
o0O0o
The bright sun and fresh air was a welcome relief after the many shocks he had just experienced. Without a word Professor Flitwick steered Harry into a dusty looking shop with a display of a single wand in its front window. The bell jangled announcing their presence to the thick air around them. Closed in on all sides by shelves bursting with small thin boxes the claustrophobic feeling was intensified when the shop owner, presumably Mr Ollivander, appeared from behind them with no more notice than his introduction.
"Ah Mr Potter I wondered when I would be seeing you. I remember the day I sold your parents their wands…"
And what followed seemed an exhausting process of elimination. For there was no logical method that he could discern in the different wands he was asked to try. As reticent as he was to reveal his ability with his 'gifts' without a wand he felt that it was soon approaching that time, just in case they decided it had all been a big mistake and he wasn't magical at all. But the moment his fingers reached for that one wand he felt something different. All of the wands in the shop had a faint stirring of the magical power he felt when using his 'gifts', or around the wizards and witches he had met so far, but this wand was different. Twirling around his hand, the power was caressing and welcoming in its feel and it felt, well … right.
"Ah, yes curious. A nice and supple holy and phoenix wand, eleven inches … you will find Mr Potter throughout your education in the Wizarding World, that magic is a force of nature at its most basic, it strives for balance, and I think we can expect great things from you Mr Potter. For You-Know-Who did great things, terrible yes, but great. So curious that you should be chosen by the brother wand, curious, but then that is magic at its greatest…"
Mr Ollivander trailed off, making his way through the numerous shelves towards the back of the store muttering to himself. A little more than slightly disturbed, Harry quickly placed the seven galleons payment on the counter and left with Professor Flitwick trailing behind him. Already in the Wizarding World an hour and he had yet to have a 'normal' experience.
"Where to next Professor?"
"Well Mr Potter I would suggest you buy a trunk first, it will allow you to pack any succeeding purchases away without having to carry them."
Nodding at the wisdom of that logic, he trailed the professor through the crowds towards the luggage store. Keeping his head down, not wanting to be recognised, whether his scar was well covered or not. He already had too much to think about, it seemed that as hard as he might try he would never be considered normal in this world either.
The luggage store was rather empty of choice. Only about ten trunks were on display inside the store, with a few smaller bags here and there. The shop assistant appeared from behind the counter this time and not from thin air.
"May I help you?" She looked from Harry to the Professor then back to Harry again.
"First year at Hogwarts I take it? Well then," she said after receiving a nod "this is our standard model for all students. One compartment with three times the expected space. If you're looking for something a bit more high end, we have trunks with multiple compartments to allow for more easier organisation of your things. For one off payments, such compartments can be remodelled for specific needs such as the Clothes Cupboard, the Never-ending Library, the Potions Masters Paradise or the Quidditch Fanatics Arena." Seeing the confused and slightly panicked look on his face the store clerk took pity on him.
"Here is a brochure detailing a list of all the additions available and their prices, just let me know if you have any questions." With that she made her way to the rear of the store and busied herself with a magazine entitled Witch Weekly.
After looking through the brochure and being advised by Professor Flitwick that such and such was not needed or not suitable for school, Harry had made his decision. When totalling the value in his head and comparing it with the amount in his leather pouch, Harry came to the conclusion that either the trunk was very cheap by Wizarding standards or the small amount he had taken from his vault was a small fortune. From the raised eyebrow of the sales clerk he rather thought the latter. Determined to look into his finances with greater depth, and promising himself a trip to his vault manager sometime in the near future, Harry collected his second purchase in the Wizarding World.
With rich mahogany, trimmed with shining brass, the trunk was a masterpiece of creation. Five keyhole looking indents corresponded with the five fingers on his hand, an additional security measure that seemed practical after living with Dudley for ten years. The normal fire proofing, water resistant, anti-tamper/hex/curse and other security proofing was an additional comfort. For though he was not expecting his fellow students to be like his cousin, he always prescribed to the quote 'better be safe than sorry'. And since all of the security measures he had installed were passive, no-one could complain.
The visit to Madam Malkins went much smoother. Especially after he asked for double the number of asked for robes made in an upgraded style and material. The addition of some basic 'muggle' clothes rounded out his experience. The asking for "everything I will need for a year at Hogwarts" seemed like a reasonable request to him and yet it sent the helpers and Madam Malkin herself in a tizzy, tripping over themselves trying to be helpful. Though probably an unneeded expense, especially after his decision not a day old to conserve his money, he had never had new clothes, let alone new clothes for him alone. And such an indulgence felt great, especially when he doubted it would make a dent in the pile of coins he could still see in his money pouch.
Potions ingredients and accompanying equipment went as smoothly as could be expected surrounded by gross things such as Dragon Heart and Newts Eyeballs, looks like Macbeth wasn't as fictional as he thought [2]. The stocking up of parchment and ink made him raise a few eyebrows, especially after Professor Flitwick couldn't answer why the Wizarding world had yet to move on to notepad and pens.
But the real highlight of the trip was the visit to Flourish and Blotts. Books upon books were piled high on top of each other. After chuckling at the awed look on his students face, Professor Flitwick offered to pick up the set texts, along with a few others designed for those muggleborns needing an introduction into the Wizarding World. Which left Harry to wander among the shelves occasionally picking up books of his own choosing, more often than not because of the title alone. Meeting up with Professor Flitwick at the cashiers desk and paying for all of the books he was suddenly glad of the Never-ending Library he had had installed in his trunk.
Not actually never-ending, but almost, the trunk opened up to show numerous shelves that would rotate if you waved your hand over it, spinning the shelves on an invisible axis. But the best feature by far was the automatic cataloguing system. All books could be sorted by title, author, subject and contents. Another feature that apparently made it a 'Ravenclaw favourite' was the inbuilt recall system. Just place a book in the library once and after registering and declaring ownership, it would return there from wherever it had been left.
The towers of books were quickly loaded in to the library compartment, to the relief of the shop assistant who was gearing up with numerous bags. A leaflet slipped into the pile also advertised new publications, periodicals and owl order service provided.
By this time the afternoon was going strong and with the last time he had eaten being lunch the previous day his stomach made its dissatisfaction known. During lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, which was much nicer looking on the inside than it was on the out, Harry questioned Professor Flitwick on the normal procedure for Hogwarts, such trivia that many would think inconsequential. But Harry had learned after a lifetime of living with his relatives, it's the small details that could make the world of difference.
For Harry had been planning, almost as soon as he had seen the inside of his vault. He didn't want to live with the Dursleys anymore and no doubt that as soon as they found out about Hogwarts they would want nothing to do with him. But he as yet didn't trust Professor Flitwick, or anyone else he had met so far. The goblins, like human bankers, were probably the most dependable, for wealth had a language of its own that probably transcended the different races.
So yes Harry was planning his escape from Privet Drive, but he needed time away from the notice of adults. Because like it or not, one of them had placed him with the Dursleys and not cared about his welfare enough to check up on him. And if that was the standard of behaviour that most of the adults in this world behaved by, he wasn't sure he would be looking to them for advice any time soon.
o0O0o
[1] tantum superstes familia– only surviving member of a family
[2] Macbeth - ACT IV, SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
o0O0o
Harry awoke to the slamming of the front door. Smiling he fumbled for the light and reached to get dressed. How it was his fault that Dudley was so wide that Smeltings clothiers didn't have uniform in his size he didn't know, nevertheless it was of course, his fault. The towering rage of his uncle coming home, and the dirty looks from his aunt convinced him for a moment that they had somehow known about the letter. But no, it was his fault apparently that they had to get a tailor made uniform and that the cost could be enormous (though their little Dudikins was worth it). And so he was forced back into the cupboard and the bolt was drawn.
The threat of no food for days didn't hurt as much as it used to. With Dudley's eating habits and the sporadic application of some of his 'gifts', their habitual starvation was little more than threats as he was able to sneak out of his cupboard at night when they had all gone to bed. By taking a little here and there it was never missed, and with planning and a little warning he was sometimes able to hoard a little food to last him for days. His hording skills had improved over the years. The use of an empty pop bottle for tap water and a loose floorboard to hide those plastic takeaway dishes filled with crisps, fruit and occasionally some bread or meat. Not a banquet by any stretch of the imagination, but in comparison to staving for days it was brilliant. But there was one aspect of his hoarding, one could almost say stealing (and his relatives definitely would), he was somewhat uncomfortable with, for though justified it just never sat right. This was of course the rather large bag of money he had accumulated over the years.
His uncle it seemed had the habit of leaving loose change in his pocket and when sitting down on the sofa or putting his clothes in the wash, he never seemed to miss the difference. The first time Harry had found a pound coin in between the sofa cushions he had immediately given it to his aunt, who in the fairness that was his world, locked him in his cupboard for three days for stealing. Now it didn't need a great amount of intelligence to figure out the best way to go about hiding the money, was to wrap it in a pillow case and hide it in the further most corner of his cupboard, where his aunt would never check.
He never actually stole any money from the wallet of his uncle, but by short changing the shopping money and picking up discarded change he was able to collect a hefty five or ten pounds a week. Justified in the accumulation of his 'pocket money' through hard work, if not exactly kosher means, he had a goodly amount stashed away for the day in which he could leave Privet Drive for good. And this was the money he had hoped would enable him to buy his school things. He just hoped that by limiting his spending and by buying second hand things when possible he would be able to live well enough for the next couple of years until he could make his own way in the world.
A smart tapping on the door startled him out of his musings of the stack of paper notes before him. It had taken a while but he was now a regular customer at the post office, changing the collected coins for paper notes, coins clanked so much and took up so much room, he thought it only best that he minimise the chances of getting caught. Another knock on the door hastened his movements and with a concentrated burst of power, he saw in his mind the bolt on his cupboard sliding unlocked. The accompanying click followed by the door swinging open caused a small smile to fill his face. Magic, for that was what it must be, seemed to be one of the best things he could dream of. Quickly reaching the front door, he opened it slightly and peered out. A risky business opening the door when he was supposedly locked in his cupboard, but the Dursleys wouldn't have knocked and the neighbours barely gave him the time of day.
Stood outside the door was a man. Well he assumed he was a man. Standing at the same height as Harry himself, he was dressed in a smart if slightly old fashioned three piece suit.
"Hello," he whispered. Something about the man was making him feel different. Like when he used his 'gifts' he felt a sort of power, and there was more power rolling of this small man than he had expected due to his size.
"Good morning, Mr Potter I presume?" Though phrased as a question Harry didn't think he actually needed a response. Something about the way he looked at him, the way his face softened just slightly, made him think he should know him.
"Yes, nice to meet you. And you are?"
"Ah, yes, I am Professor Filius Flitwick, Mr Potter. We received your letter yesterday and I was assigned to help show you around our world. Might I come in?"
Wordlessly he nodded and let him enter the house. Leading him to the living room he allowed him to take a seat before perching on the end of the sofa. After a quick look around and a few raised eyebrows Professor Flitwick turned to look at him.
"It's real then, what was said in the letter. I was wondering if it was just some huge sort of prank."
Mouth twitching in memories at the word prank he looked at the boy who it seemed had no idea of just who he was. He had understood Albus' decision to leave him here (though uneasy over Minerva's objections), away from the acclaim and attention he would have received. But even he had assumed that his relatives would have said something to the boy.
"Yes Mr Potter the world of magic is real, and you are a Wizard just like I am." With a flick of his wrist his wand was in his hand and suddenly some of Aunt Petunia's precious figurines were tap dancing on the mantle. Wincing at the thought of her coming home to broken china, he attempted to divert the professor's attention away from the performance of tricks and back to answering some of the many questions he had.
"You know Sir, that my relatives don't like anything abnormal in their lives, and well, I don't think they will like me going to a magical school. I definitely can't see them paying for anything." A pensive silence met this pronouncement. Harry hoped as hard as he could that another feat of magic would occur and the tiny professor would have a solution to one of the main factors preventing him from his dream – getting away from the Dursleys.
"Well Mr Potter, whether they mentioned it to you or not, your guardians do know about magic. How could your aunt not, after all her sister was a witch and went to Hogwarts when she was eleven. No Mr Potter they know, though why they didn't tell you is anyone's guess. And with regards to the cost, your parents were very wealthy. Your father was the last heir to a very old line of families, not only the Potter's, and they set up a trust fund for you for your schooling and other necessities. Normal procedure in any case, for the heir to such fortunes but with the spectre of war it was common sense to make sure you were well provided for."
Now, Harry was intelligent and well versed with conversing with adults, but even so it took a few moments for the implications to set in.
"War?"
And so followed the history of Lord Voldemort, his rise to power and devastation of the Wizarding World stopped on that memorable Halloween Night, with him left with nothing but a scar. The fame of his name had barely set in before the professor, on looking about the room enquired as to the location of his relatives.
"Oh, they went to get my cousin school things, they won't be back for a while."
"Alright Mr Potter, I assume you would like to pick up your school things now, we have all day, but these things always take longer than one expects."
Professor Flitwick seemed a mine of information about the Wizarding World, and Hogwarts in particular. As head of the brainy house Ravenclaw, he seemed rather pleased at all the questions and Harry's thirst to learn. While trying not to be too biased he strongly hinted that he would welcome Harry into his house if he was so chosen, though remained rather closed lipped on just how students were sorted. After a rather uncomfortable trip on something called the Knight Bus, they arrived at a dingy looking pub The Leaky Cauldron. Quickly ushered through to avoid any staring Harry found himself staring at a brick wall that then melted away after a few purposeful taps of a wand.
Diagon Alley, the main shopping district of the Wizarding World was full of sights and sounds never seen before, and Harry thought that he would get crick in his neck from trying to see everything at once. The marble face to the bank only impressed him further, especially after seeing goblins for the first time. Not knowing that the usual wizards comportment towards goblins was little more that pained sufferance, he found himself being particularly polite to the goblin teller. Harry had decided that it was always a good idea to be extra especially nice to those that kept your money secure. After a surprisingly short wait they reached the teller and Harry allowed Professor Flitwick to start the conversation.
"Mr Harry Potter would like to make a withdrawal from his Vault."
"And does Mr Harry Potter have his Key?" For a second panic ran through him. Key? Why would you need a key? But the smooth handing over of a gold key smothered any questions for now.
"Griphook will escort you to your vault. Griphook!"
Another goblin appeared at their side, took the key and then gestured for them to follow. For a magical society that could have no end of ways to move around, the use of mine carts seemed rather backwards, but for all his experience of first impressions being deceiving, he kept quiet, puzzling out the mystery in his head. At the arrival of his vault, and the discovery of so many mounds of gold, silver and bronze coins, the questions in his head doubled. It seemed as if he wouldn't have to be as frugal as he thought. Let alone not needing to touch any of his 'muggle' money.
After seeing the look on the clients face a few things became clearer to the goblin Griphook.
"The gold coins are galleons, the silver ones sickles and the bronze ones knuts. Twenty nine knuts to a sickle, and seventeen sickles to a galleon, quite simple really. Your trust fund of course is of the tantum superstes familia [1] category, though I am sure you are aware of that?" The leading tone of that question led Harry to scrub up on his memory of basic Latin.
"No I didn't, I didn't even know of the existence of such a vault until an hour ago." This seemed to be the right answer as Griphook nodded to himself, and then peered at the confused looking Professor Flitwick.
"As such I doubt you have been receiving your monthly statements? No? Well we at Gringotts will look into this at once, perhaps you would be able to visit at a later date in order to talk with your account manager?"
While this was being said they were led back to the cart after a larger than possible amount of coins were placed inside a small leather pouch. Harry nodded and memorised what he had been told about the process of using the weird owl post as a form of communication.
o0O0o
The bright sun and fresh air was a welcome relief after the many shocks he had just experienced. Without a word Professor Flitwick steered Harry into a dusty looking shop with a display of a single wand in its front window. The bell jangled announcing their presence to the thick air around them. Closed in on all sides by shelves bursting with small thin boxes the claustrophobic feeling was intensified when the shop owner, presumably Mr Ollivander, appeared from behind them with no more notice than his introduction.
"Ah Mr Potter I wondered when I would be seeing you. I remember the day I sold your parents their wands…"
And what followed seemed an exhausting process of elimination. For there was no logical method that he could discern in the different wands he was asked to try. As reticent as he was to reveal his ability with his 'gifts' without a wand he felt that it was soon approaching that time, just in case they decided it had all been a big mistake and he wasn't magical at all. But the moment his fingers reached for that one wand he felt something different. All of the wands in the shop had a faint stirring of the magical power he felt when using his 'gifts', or around the wizards and witches he had met so far, but this wand was different. Twirling around his hand, the power was caressing and welcoming in its feel and it felt, well … right.
"Ah, yes curious. A nice and supple holy and phoenix wand, eleven inches … you will find Mr Potter throughout your education in the Wizarding World, that magic is a force of nature at its most basic, it strives for balance, and I think we can expect great things from you Mr Potter. For You-Know-Who did great things, terrible yes, but great. So curious that you should be chosen by the brother wand, curious, but then that is magic at its greatest…"
Mr Ollivander trailed off, making his way through the numerous shelves towards the back of the store muttering to himself. A little more than slightly disturbed, Harry quickly placed the seven galleons payment on the counter and left with Professor Flitwick trailing behind him. Already in the Wizarding World an hour and he had yet to have a 'normal' experience.
"Where to next Professor?"
"Well Mr Potter I would suggest you buy a trunk first, it will allow you to pack any succeeding purchases away without having to carry them."
Nodding at the wisdom of that logic, he trailed the professor through the crowds towards the luggage store. Keeping his head down, not wanting to be recognised, whether his scar was well covered or not. He already had too much to think about, it seemed that as hard as he might try he would never be considered normal in this world either.
The luggage store was rather empty of choice. Only about ten trunks were on display inside the store, with a few smaller bags here and there. The shop assistant appeared from behind the counter this time and not from thin air.
"May I help you?" She looked from Harry to the Professor then back to Harry again.
"First year at Hogwarts I take it? Well then," she said after receiving a nod "this is our standard model for all students. One compartment with three times the expected space. If you're looking for something a bit more high end, we have trunks with multiple compartments to allow for more easier organisation of your things. For one off payments, such compartments can be remodelled for specific needs such as the Clothes Cupboard, the Never-ending Library, the Potions Masters Paradise or the Quidditch Fanatics Arena." Seeing the confused and slightly panicked look on his face the store clerk took pity on him.
"Here is a brochure detailing a list of all the additions available and their prices, just let me know if you have any questions." With that she made her way to the rear of the store and busied herself with a magazine entitled Witch Weekly.
After looking through the brochure and being advised by Professor Flitwick that such and such was not needed or not suitable for school, Harry had made his decision. When totalling the value in his head and comparing it with the amount in his leather pouch, Harry came to the conclusion that either the trunk was very cheap by Wizarding standards or the small amount he had taken from his vault was a small fortune. From the raised eyebrow of the sales clerk he rather thought the latter. Determined to look into his finances with greater depth, and promising himself a trip to his vault manager sometime in the near future, Harry collected his second purchase in the Wizarding World.
With rich mahogany, trimmed with shining brass, the trunk was a masterpiece of creation. Five keyhole looking indents corresponded with the five fingers on his hand, an additional security measure that seemed practical after living with Dudley for ten years. The normal fire proofing, water resistant, anti-tamper/hex/curse and other security proofing was an additional comfort. For though he was not expecting his fellow students to be like his cousin, he always prescribed to the quote 'better be safe than sorry'. And since all of the security measures he had installed were passive, no-one could complain.
The visit to Madam Malkins went much smoother. Especially after he asked for double the number of asked for robes made in an upgraded style and material. The addition of some basic 'muggle' clothes rounded out his experience. The asking for "everything I will need for a year at Hogwarts" seemed like a reasonable request to him and yet it sent the helpers and Madam Malkin herself in a tizzy, tripping over themselves trying to be helpful. Though probably an unneeded expense, especially after his decision not a day old to conserve his money, he had never had new clothes, let alone new clothes for him alone. And such an indulgence felt great, especially when he doubted it would make a dent in the pile of coins he could still see in his money pouch.
Potions ingredients and accompanying equipment went as smoothly as could be expected surrounded by gross things such as Dragon Heart and Newts Eyeballs, looks like Macbeth wasn't as fictional as he thought [2]. The stocking up of parchment and ink made him raise a few eyebrows, especially after Professor Flitwick couldn't answer why the Wizarding world had yet to move on to notepad and pens.
But the real highlight of the trip was the visit to Flourish and Blotts. Books upon books were piled high on top of each other. After chuckling at the awed look on his students face, Professor Flitwick offered to pick up the set texts, along with a few others designed for those muggleborns needing an introduction into the Wizarding World. Which left Harry to wander among the shelves occasionally picking up books of his own choosing, more often than not because of the title alone. Meeting up with Professor Flitwick at the cashiers desk and paying for all of the books he was suddenly glad of the Never-ending Library he had had installed in his trunk.
Not actually never-ending, but almost, the trunk opened up to show numerous shelves that would rotate if you waved your hand over it, spinning the shelves on an invisible axis. But the best feature by far was the automatic cataloguing system. All books could be sorted by title, author, subject and contents. Another feature that apparently made it a 'Ravenclaw favourite' was the inbuilt recall system. Just place a book in the library once and after registering and declaring ownership, it would return there from wherever it had been left.
The towers of books were quickly loaded in to the library compartment, to the relief of the shop assistant who was gearing up with numerous bags. A leaflet slipped into the pile also advertised new publications, periodicals and owl order service provided.
By this time the afternoon was going strong and with the last time he had eaten being lunch the previous day his stomach made its dissatisfaction known. During lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, which was much nicer looking on the inside than it was on the out, Harry questioned Professor Flitwick on the normal procedure for Hogwarts, such trivia that many would think inconsequential. But Harry had learned after a lifetime of living with his relatives, it's the small details that could make the world of difference.
For Harry had been planning, almost as soon as he had seen the inside of his vault. He didn't want to live with the Dursleys anymore and no doubt that as soon as they found out about Hogwarts they would want nothing to do with him. But he as yet didn't trust Professor Flitwick, or anyone else he had met so far. The goblins, like human bankers, were probably the most dependable, for wealth had a language of its own that probably transcended the different races.
So yes Harry was planning his escape from Privet Drive, but he needed time away from the notice of adults. Because like it or not, one of them had placed him with the Dursleys and not cared about his welfare enough to check up on him. And if that was the standard of behaviour that most of the adults in this world behaved by, he wasn't sure he would be looking to them for advice any time soon.
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[1] tantum superstes familia– only surviving member of a family
[2] Macbeth - ACT IV, SCENE I. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
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