Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 05: The Potter Vault
Diagon Alley unfolded before him as a storybook come to life.
The cobblestones gleamed under his foot, worn smooth by centuries of visitors.
The shops leaned one against another in a jumble of crooked beams and brightly painted signs. Their windows were overflowing with all sorts of items up for sale, such as cauldrons, quills, and perches with hooting owls.
Harry stopped just inside the archway and stared.
He had imagined this moment a hundred, not a thousand times.
Lying in the hospital bed, reading the books by torchlight, long after the nurses had turned off the lights, he had pictured himself walking these streets, buying a wand, finding a loyal magical pet, and finally stepping onto the Hogwarts Express.
But the pictures in his head had been warm, bright, and full of wonder.
The real Diagon Alley he was seeing now was...different.
The people, for one thing, moved quickly, heads down and not meeting each other's eyes. Conversations were low and hurried.
A woman in emerald robes rushed past with her child clutched tightly to her side, glancing over her shoulder as if she expected someone to follow.
A shopkeeper swept his doorstep with sharp, angry strokes, glaring at anyone who came close.
"Stay close," Petunia murmured, her hand firm on his shoulder. "Don't wander off."
He was not planning on doing that after what he had seen so far.
Vernon had pulled out a piece of paper, the list of school supplies, and was studying with grim determination.
"Okay, first things first," His uncle said. "We need to get some wizard money."
"Gringotts, I believe, was the name of the bank," Petuia mentioned before looking at Harry. "Your parents should have a vault in there. Let's go ask."
"Gringotts?" Dudley repeated. "That's a weird name for a bank..."
"It's a goblin bank, dear," Petunia said quietly. She noted the face of wonder in her son's face. "Make sure you are very polite to them...goblins can be dangerous if they decide they dont like you."
'Goblins...I'm going to see real goblins!' Harry thought.
He had read about them. They were short, clever creatures with long fingers, who ran the wizarding economy with iron efficiency.
In the books, they had been prickly but ultimately fair.
He hoped that this trait had not changed in this twisted version, at least.
He did not have to wait long to find out.
Gringotts stood at the end of the Alley as a towering white marble building. Its bronze doors were wide open, flanked by creatures in uniforms of scarlet and gold.
'Not goblins,' Harry realized. They were too big for that, almost the size of a normal person, with wide shoulders and powerful arms. These were something else.
"Hoggoblins," Petunia whispered. "They are their guards...dont smile at them and dont look them in the eye for too long. And whatever you do, dont thank them...ever."
Harry nodded. His throat felt dry.
They climbed the marble steps and passed through the doors into a vast, echoing hall.
A long counter ran along the far wall, behind which sat a row of goblins.
Real goblins with long noses, thin fingers, and eyes that seem to hold no emotion whatsoever.
They wrote in enormous ledgers with quills that could write with no ink, scratching out numbers and names in a language Harry could not understand.
One of the creatures looked up at them as they approached. His face was wrinkled like a dried apple, and his smile, when he offered it, did not reach his eyes.
"State your business," he said. His voice was high and sharp like a knife.
"We're here for Harry Potter's vault," Vernon said, stepping forward. "He needs to withdraw funds for his school supplies."
The goblin's eyes slid to Harry. "I see. And does Mister Potter have his key?"
Vernon looked at Petunia. Petunia looked at Harry. Harry looked at the goblin.
"I'm afraid we dont have any keys." Petunia finally spoke.
The goblin's expression did not change, but something in his posture shifted. He picked up a quill and tapped it against the counter.
"No key," he repeated. "No identification, no proof of lineage. And you expect me to simply open the vault of one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain?"
"We have the letter," Petunia said quickly, pulling the Hogwarts envelope from her bag. "It proves he's been accepted. It has his name on it."
The goblin took the letter and examined it with obvious disdain. "A letter from Hogwarts proves nothing except that the boy can receive post. We would need to perform a blood test on the boy."
Vernon and Petunia looked at Harry with concern.
But this was not going to be enough to deter him. "Go ahead." He extended his arm out with determination.
The goblin stared at him for a long moment. Then, without another word, he reached under the counter and produced a small silver blade, no longer than his finger.
"Give me your hand," the goblin said.
Petunia made a small, frightened noise. Vernon put his hand on Dudley's shoulder and pulled him back a step.
But Harry held out his hand, palm up, and watched as the goblin pricked his finger with the silver blade.
A single drop of blood formed up, bright red against his pale skin. The goblin caught it on a piece of parchment that had appeared from nowhere...a parchment that immediately began to smoke and hiss and write in letters of fire.
Harry James Potter, the parchment read. Son of James Fleamont Potter and Lily Jane Potter (née Evans). Born July 31st. Blood status: Half-blood. Magical core: Intact. No dark marks detected.
The goblin studied the parchment for a long time. Then he looked up at Harry.
"You are who you say you are," the goblin said. "Very well. We will issue a new key. It will take time to craft...a matter of days. However, I am authorised to grant you one-time access to the Potter vault for the purpose of purchasing school supplies. A goblin will accompany you."
He snapped his fingers. A smaller goblin appeared from the shadows, dressed in the same scarlet and gold uniform. This one was younger, with sharper features and a nervous twitch in his left eye.
"Griphook will escort you," the goblin said. "Follow him."
Griphook led them through a set of doors and into a long, sloping corridor lit by torches that burned with a cold, blue flame. The air grew colder as they walked, and the sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone walls.
"Only one may accompany the account holder," Griphook said, not looking back. "Bank policy. The others must wait in the hall."
Vernon stopped. "But—"
"I'll go," Petunia said quickly. "Harry, I'll go with you. Vernon, you and Dudley wait here. We won't be long."
Vernon looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at Griphook's sharp eyes changed his mind. He nodded stiffly and pulled Dudley over to a stone bench against the wall.
"Be careful," he said to Harry.
Harry and Petunia followed Griphook down the corridor and into a small, rickety cart made of iron and wood. It had no seats, just a flat floor and a handle to hold onto.
"Hold tight," Griphook said and pulled a lever.
The cart shot forward almost immediately like a bullet.
Harry grabbed Petunia's arm and held on as the cart plunged into the depths, speeding through a labyrinth of tunnels and passages, past doors of iron.
Petunia screamed once, then clamped her mouth shut and closed her eyes. Harry kept his open, watching the vaults flash past, each one numbered, each one sealed with a great iron lock.
Finally, the cart screeched to a halt in front of a vault that looked no different from any of the others. The number above the door read: 67.
"The Potter vault," Griphook said, hopping out of the cart. He placed his long-fingered hand against the door and tapped it a few times before producing a long key from his clothes.
"A Master Key," The goblin said when he noticed Harry's look of interest. "Only goblins may use it," He added.
Griphook inserted the key into the hole and twisted it...the large circular gate became unlocked, and he pushed it open.
"Dont take too long." He warned them before stepping aside and allowing them to enter.
Harry and Petunia approached the door and looked inside.
They both gasped at the same time.
The whole time on the way here, he had been thinking about that gigantic mountain of gold coins that the original Harry Potter found when his vault was first opened. The wonder and shock in his eyes when he saw all those riches.
That was more or less what he had been expecting to see.
And...he had been so wrong.
The vault was empty.
Not almost empty...not mostly empty, but completely empty. There was not a single coin he could see. Not even a single copper knut.
"No," Harry whispered. "No, that can't be right. There should be… my parents were rich. The books said—"
He stopped himself before he could say too much. But the horror of the moment was already settling over him.
"How can this be?" Petunia gripped his shoulder. Her face was pale.
She turned back and went for the goblin. "Griphook," she said. "Where is the money? The vault shouldn't be empty...there must be some mistake."
"Mmm?" The goblin looked inside the vault for a moment. Then he produced a small leather-bound book from somewhere inside his uniform. He flipped through it with quick movements, his lips moving silently as he read.
Then he stopped. "Ah...I see."
"What?" Harry demanded. "What does it say?"
Griphook looked up at him, and for the first time, there was something like pity in the goblin's sharp eyes.
"The will of James and Lily Potter," the goblin said slowly, "was executed ten years ago, following their deaths. In it, they endowed their entire estate...every last Galleon, every asset, every property...to one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
The name hung in the air like a curse.
"What?" Petunia's voice was barely a whisper. "But… why? Why would they leave everything to him? What about Harry? He was their son."
Griphook shrugged. "The will does not need to state a reason. This paper merely states the contents of the inheritance. All liquid assets were transferred to a Dumbledore-controlled account within a month of the Potters' deaths. The family home in Godric's Hollow was sold. The proceeds also went to Mr. Dumbledore."
Harry felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him.
He had been counting on this...he may have been thrown into a twisted version of a dangerous magical world, but he had at least been counting on the fact that he would not need to worry about money. That part should have been covered...
But his parents had apparently left him nothing at all. Everything they owned...everything they had, had gone to Albus Dumbledore.
Why?
"There has to be something else...this can't be it," he said, his voice craking. "Did they have another vault?, A trust fund for me or something?."
Griphook flipped through the book again. His finger stopped at another page. "There is a small personal vault registered under your mother's name, Mr. Potter. Opened shortly after your birth. It contains… non-monetary items. Personal effects. Would you like to see it?"
Harry nodded quickly. Hopefully, he will not leave this place empty-handed.
The second vault was much smaller than the first, tucked away in a side passage that Harry had not even noticed.
Griphook opened it in the same way as the previous vault...he swung the door open, and Harry looked inside.
This vault, at least, was not empty. Although it did not contain any gold or treasure, it did contain just things.
A pile of old photographs, yellowed at the edges. A stack of clothes, baby clothes, Harry realized.
A wooden box containing a collection of quills and ink pots. And tucked into a corner like an afterthought, a small stack of leather-bound journals.
And one more thing.
Resting on top of a small wooden pedestal was a book unlike any Harry had ever seen. Its cover was made of dark, cracked leather, embossed with a symbol he did not recognize. It looked like a stag standing on a hill and draped in a cloak.
"I think that is the symbol of the Potter family." Said Petunia, who was also looking at the book over his shoulder. "I saw that symbol in a few of the gifts that your father would sometimes send to Lily."
"The symbol of the Potter house..." Harry looked at the large book before him. He was sure this was no normal book. He could feel something special in it. Perhaps it was magic, but he had nothing to compare it to.
He reached out and touched the cover of the book.
The moment his fingers made contact with the leather, the world went white.
He felt something rush through him...something powerful and hungry. And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the sensation vanished.
And the book was gone.
"Harry, are you okay?!" Petunia grabbed his arm. "What happened. Where did the book go?"
Harry looked down at his hand. They were empty, but he knew that the book was somewhere inside him...not physically, but inside some part of his own self.
He did not know how he knew this, but he did. The moment the book disappeared, some knowledge bled into his mind. He could call the book if he wanted to.
"It's fine, Aunt Petunia. The book is with me....somehow."
"With you?. What do you mean?." Petunia asked.
"That book..." Harry was now sure of what it was. "It's a grimoire...right?." He glanced at the goblin for answers.
Griphook nodded slowly. "Wizard grimoires are bound to the family bloodline. It will remain with you until you pass it to an heir or until you die. Other than that, no power on earth can take it from you now."
"Bound to the bloodline..." Harry muttered.
It made sense now. That's why Dumbledore didn't take such a valuable item, despite taking everything else. He simply couldn't...
"We'll take everything," he said to Griphook. "Every last thing. And then I want to know exactly how much Dumbledore took from my parents. Every Galleon, and asset. I want it in writing."
Griphook smiled a thin, sharp smile that showed his teeth.
"That," the goblin said, "can be arranged."
Dumbledore has taken nearly everything, but he didn't take this book, and he won't get anything else from him. He will make sure of that.
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