Chapter Text
Harry James Potter, at thirteen years old, was one extremely happy wizard. The night before had been interesting, to say the least. After accidentally blowing up his "aunt'' Marge and a harrowing escape from Privet Drive, he had taken a ride on The Knight Bus while thinking he was going to be expelled and listening to the driver and conductor gossip about the escaped convict Sirius Black.
It turned out that he had worried for nothing because the Minister of Magic himself had met Harry at the Leaky Cauldron and let him know that everything had been taken care of and he wasn't in trouble. The Minister had seemed relieved that Harry was okay and suggested that Harry spend the last three weeks at the Cauldron and Diagon Alley, which Harry was only happy to do. After all, three weeks in the magical alley would be far more fun than three weeks with the Dursleys.
After laying down some perfectly reasonable rules, answering some questions, and bidding the teen goodnight, the Minister left Harry at the inn. Tom had shown Harry to his room and also left him alone. He had been so tired that he had fallen asleep almost immediately, leaving his trunk just inside the door and his shoes halfway to the bed.
The first couple of days, Harry had worked diligently to complete his homework so he could spend the rest of his time exploring the wonderous Diagon Alley without someone shepherding him around for the first time since he found out he was a wizard. Needless to say, Harry was extremely excited to finally be able to look at everything that the Alley had to offer without someone hounding his every step or scrutinizing his every purchase. Nothing against Hagrid or Molly; he just wished he had been able to explore.
Sitting in his favorite booth at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, he finished his last essay with a flourish and leaned back in relief. Doing his homework in the ice cream parlor with the occasional free sundae and advice from the proprietor himself was undoubtedly a marked improvement from doing it under the covers with a flashlight in the dead of night. It also helped that Mr. Fortescue was a major history buff and was willing to tell him about in-between customers.
"Finished, lad?" Mr. Fortescue said from the counter. Harry looked up to see the man wiping his hands off the muggle way.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for all your help...and the ice cream.'' Harry smiled brightly at the helpful man. He was one of the few individuals in Diagon Alley who saw him for Harry Potter, not The-boy-who-lived.
''No problem, sonny,'' Mr. Fortescue replied with a smile, "why don't you get on out of here and get to exploring this glorious alley as I know you've been itching to do." Harry flushed while the man chuckled. Florean had been watching the boy rush through his homework as quickly as he could while making sure it was worthy of an outstanding the past three days. He couldn’t blame the boy, rumors of Harry Potter’s family situation had spread following the incident, and he couldn’t help but feel for the young orphan.
"I think I'll do just that," Harry said, getting up from his booth. "Thank you again."
Waving at the man, Harry stepped out into the alley. Immediately he was assaulted with the various sights, sounds, and smells of the busy place. Smiling slightly at the thought of not seeing the Dursleys for the better part of a year, he thought of what he wanted to do first. He still had not gone to Gringotts and refilled his money bag, but there wasn't any pressing need to do so.
'I think I'll do some exploring first; that way, if I find something I can't live without, I'll have some time to think about if I need it while I get money from my vault. I do need some new clothes, maybe some new glasses, and a haircut, but that can wait.'
With that thought, he headed to the very first store he had seen every time he stepped out of the ice cream parlor.
The Magical Menagerie wasn't bustling, but a few people were milling around looking at the various magical and mundane animals alike. Neat rows of cages lined the walls. Nobody appeared to be in a hurry, which made sense to Harry, as he couldn't think of too many occasions for an emergency need for a kneazle, diricawl, or crup.
The store clerk looked at him and, with a glance up towards his forehead, asked if Harry needed assistance. Harry waved him off with a quick "just looking, thank you." The clerk nodded and went back to his magazine.
Harry was looking at the cages with the nifflers when he heard a hissing sound.
Looking around, he saw that it was coming from a few glass tanks that were filled with snakes. Slightly surprised to see snakes in the store due to their reputation of being used exclusively for dark arts, He walked over to the terrariums and peered through the first one. Inside was what the tag labeled a king snake. It was rather large and seemed not to want to move from its magical warming stone. Harry moved on to the next tank and was surprised to see a very recognizable cobra, which didn't seem to want to move.
Shaking his head at the lazy reptiles, he was about to exit the store when he heard something else.
$Speaker! Hey speaker! Over here!$
Tracking the sound to a corner tank that he had not looked in, he looked inside and was surprised to see a two-foot-long snake that was labeled as a Taipan. It had a thin body, dark green coloring, and a relatively small head. The label said it was one of the most venomous snakes in the world. Something niggled in the back of his mind, and he almost started when he realized that he heard the snake due to his parseltongue.
He had pretty much forgotten about that. It was the cause of endless grief last year due to the whole Heir of Slytherin fiasco. He looked around to see if anybody was close enough to hear him.
$Yes? Can I help you?$ He hissed back, seeing no harm in being polite.
$Maybe, darling, but I was thinking I could help you.$ It replied.
A little startled to be called 'darling' by a venomous serpent, He said, $What do you mean?$
The snake rose and looked him in the eye.
$Well, I want you to buy me and let me be your familiar.$ She said.
Harry adopted a confused look on his face and leaned forward to ask, $Familiar? I'm not a dark wizard; why would you want to be my familiar?$
He could have sworn the snake sternly raised an eyebrow in a very Hermione-like way as he had just said something very dumb.
$Wow, darling, a bit presumptuous of you to assume that just because I'm a poisonous snake, it automatically makes me evil.$
Harry had the decency to look a little sheepish at that, $But everybody says that even being a parseltongue is the mark of a dark wizard, and snakes are used only for the dark arts, and I don't want to be a dark wizard. I wish I didn't even have this ability,$ Harry rambled.
$Well, I suppose if everyone says it, it must be true then, huh?$ She said, rolling her eyes, $Look, darling, it's an ability, you decide what to do with it. Besides, I am not evil. Not in the least. I would only bite someone with poison if they threatened me or mine. $
Harry was still a little skeptical but could see the point the snake was trying to make. $Ok, I guess I can understand that, but why in particular do you want to come with me?$ He asked.
$Well, aside from the fact that sitting in this tank all day is incredibly dull, and I'd like to be able to stretch out every once in a while, your magic makes me feel good. That means we are compatible. Also, you are the only speaker I've ever met, and I'd rather be with a speaker instead of just being taken to some random wizard's house and kept in yet another tank to serve as decoration.$ She said.
Harry could see what she meant and when he thought about it, parseltongue in and of itself was just an ability; it did depend on what he did with it. The more he thought about it, the more beneficial having a little snake friend seemed. Still...there were other concerns, like what everybody else would say, Ron and Hermione in particular. Ron was set in his ways and utterly convinced that all snakes were evil, even the not-so-scaly students that were considered snakes by virtue of being sorted into a schoolhouse at eleven years old. Hermione would probably get used to it a lot quicker, so maybe they could team up and convince Ron...maybe?
The rest of the school might turn on him again, but honestly, he was pretty used to that by now, having spent most of last year being a pariah. While not pleasant, the people who mattered to him stood by him while everyone else was alternatively glaring or skittering away from him.
Harry scoffed at that thought.
He looked at the little snake and asked, $can I think about it? I'm leaning towards yes, but there are some things I need to think about before I commit.$
$Okay, darling, just don't take too long; you never know when some nutter walks in to buy a niffler and walks out with a venomous snake.$
He chuckled a little at her attempt at wit. He could tell that it did want to go with him, he didn't know how he knew that, but he did. It’s kind of like how he got the impression of its facial expressions, even though it was technically impossible for it to have facial expressions.
He started to walk away when a thought occurred to him.
$Are you a male or female?$ He asked.
$Female, darling.$ She replied.
$Okay, I'll see you later.$ Harry waved to the snake and then instantly found foolish for doing so.
Walking out the door, Harry was already pretty sure that he was going to get her. Even if this was some elaborate set up so she could turn on him and gain her freedom, Madam Pomfrey had informed him that, because of the basilisk bite and phoenix tears, he was immune to most poisons. He had to admit, that was a pretty nifty side effect. Not that he had any intentions to go and get poisoned or even test the theory too much.
After spending a couple of hours exploring the other various shops, listening to people gossip about Sirius Black, or trying to sell him everything from lunar charts to large crystal balls filled with a model galaxy, he decided that it was time to go to Gringott's and get some money from his vault so he could get his school supplies. There were also some questions he had, and he hoped the goblins would be able to answer at least some of them.
He arrived at the bank and nodded to the goblin guards flanking the entry door. Walking in, he was impressed again at the marble opulence that the entry chamber consisted of. There were goblins seated on high chairs behind counters that looked like they needed a staircase for the short creatures to get upon. The goblins were engaged in the usual things like counting galleons and inspecting jewels.
He walked up to the nearest teller and waited patiently for the goblin to acknowledge him. From what little he paid attention to Professor Binns' droning voice in history class, Harry knew that goblins hated to be interrupted and were more inclined to be a bit more helpful if you didn't. Of course, nobody liked to be interrupted, so he supposed it was more of a common courtesy than any kind of cultural quirk exclusive to goblins.
The goblin finished counting the pile and wrote something down in the ledger to the left of the coins. He looked down at Harry and spoke, "can I help you, wizard?''
''Yes, sir, I would like to withdraw some money from my vault and would also like to speak with someone regarding my account, please,'' Harry responded.
"Key, please." The goblin reached down as Harry produced his key from his pockets and handed it to him.
The goblin inspected the key and instantly knew Harry’s name using some method only known to goblins.
"That seems to be in order. May I inquire as to the nature of your request to speak with your account manager, Mr. Potter?" The goblin said.
"Well, sir, I heard when I first came here that the vault I had been using was called a trust vault. I figured that if that was a trust vault, then there might be the main vault, and, um, I was kind of hoping that maybe if there was a main vault, I could see if there was something of my parents'. I have very little that belonged to them or any of my family, really, and I was hoping...that maybe I could find a keepsake or something like that. Maybe some letters " Harry responded, a bit embarrassed at sounding so small when he mentioned his parents.
The goblin, who was named Ripclaw, judging from the nameplate that Harry had just noticed, looked down at the child with a blank face and said, "very well, child, I'll call your account manager and let him know that you would like to speak with him. You may wait over there." Ripclaw pointed to a small waiting area on the other side of the chamber.
"Thank you for your help, sir," Harry said, turning around and walking to a seat in the waiting area.
After about fifteen minutes, another goblin, dressed in an eighteenth-century muggle-type business suit, came from one of the halls behind the counter and beckoned Harry to follow him.
Harry followed the goblin down the hall to an office with a nameplate that proclaimed it to belong to Grimjaw. Grimjaw walked into the office with Harry following him and sat down at the excellent mahogany desk and indicated a seat for Harry in front of the desk.
As Harry sat down, the goblin studied him for a few seconds and then spoke, "Mr. Potter, My name is Grimjaw. I am the account manager for the Potter family, as well as a few others. I understand from Ripclaw that you would like to see the Potter family vault, and see if there are any letters from your family.''
Harry felt a little nervous at this point; he just hoped that he wasn't doing anything wrong, although he couldn't think of anything wrong with asking questions. Nonetheless, he replied in what he hoped was a strong voice, ''yes sir, I didn't know that there was one, but I guessed there might be, and I was curious if it would have anything of my ancestor's or my parent's. I don't know too much about my family, and I would like to rectify that if I can."
Grimjaw nodded his head and said, "I'll allow this, but you won't be able to touch any money in your family vault until you come of age. That shouldn't be a problem because your father set you up with one of the largest trust vaults that I've, personally, ever seen. Also, you will only be allowed to remove four heirlooms at a time from the vault. Once you are declared of age, you will be granted full access. As for the letters, that would require me to research to see if they did leave anything, for a small fee."
Harry was surprised at the largest trust vault comment but decided to wait to see if any of his questions could be answered in the family vault before asking Grimjaw.
"That sounds more than fair, sir, and thank you," Harry said gratefully.
Grimjaw seemed pleased that he didn't have to deal with a little princeling throwing a tantrum and said, "if you follow me, I'll take you down to your family vault and then your trust vault to refill your money bag."
Harry was surprised again and, despite his resolution to glean answers from observing instead of constant questioning, couldn't help but ask, "I thought there were different goblins that took people down to their vaults. Griphook always took me down there before."
Grimjaw chuckled a little at that and replied, "normally, yes, for a trust vault, or a vault only owned by one person, Griphhook or another cart goblin would take you down there. Only an account manager can access the family vault he represents."
"Ah,'' said Harry. "Security reasons, I suppose." It made sense given that it was Voldemort controlling Quirrell that attempted to break into the bank during Harry’s first year. He couldn’t have been the first.
''Indeed," Grimjaw motioning for Harry to follow him, they left his office.
After a wild cart ride where Harry could have sworn there was at least five seconds of freefall, the pair stood in front of a large circular vault door. Intricate golden filigree surrounded an old English stylized letter "P" in the very center.
Grimjaw walked up and, placing his hand on one side of the door, indicated the other side for Harry to do the same. Harry complied and the door unsealed with a clang, opening just enough for the two to walk in.
Harry felt his jaw-dropping at sight in front of him. If his trust vault had piles of gold coins, then the family vault had mountains. One whole side of the massive vault was dedicated to coins. Galleons, sickles, and knuts in three gigantic piles reached almost to the ceiling, which was slightly higher than his head. The whole thing was illuminated by what he assumed was the magical equivalent of fluorescent lighting.
The other side of the vault had large shelves with strange artifacts lined neatly as if in a museum, glass display cases with different types of uniform robes, and a small number of weapons from different eras and countries displayed on the walls.
"Wow, I knew my parents left me a small fortune, but this is...insanity. I must be at least as rich as Malfoy. What exactly did my family do to amass this amount of gold?" Harry exclaimed after shaking his head and closing his jaw. He turned to Grimjaw before turning back and looking at the room.
Grimjaw chuckled and said, "sorry, Mr. Potter, the Malfoy family fortune is much greater than this. Your family was one of the wealthier families, but, mainly because they had a code of ethics in their business dealings, they still fell short of the obscene amounts that some of the less scrupulous families are able to maintain. I believe your ancestors didn't necessarily have an occupation that they specialized in in particular, but, like most old bloodlines, they produced a few outstanding individuals who made good business decisions or invented something groundbreaking over their long history. Are you aware of how a family trust works, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shook his head and replied, ''no, sir, what does that mean exactly?"
"I'll explain it with an example," Grimjaw said. "A family opens an account hundreds of years ago. This family consists of a young husband, a wife that took her husband's name, an older male offspring, a younger male offspring, and a youngest female offspring. Now the husband and wife both have jobs, work hard, and deposit a portion of their earnings into their vault every month. Over time the money accumulates and grows, and when their first child graduates from Hogwarts and is ready to start his life, his parents gift him with a small nest egg and his own vault for him to live on until he can stand on his own. This young man also gets a job, does everything his parents did, and adds to his vault. More time passes, and, unfortunately, the young man dies in an accident before he can marry and sire an heir of his own. Now, as he didn't have an heir, his vault gets closed, and the money or any items he placed there gets put in his parent’s vault, growing the original vault even more. Are you with me so far?"
Harry nodded, fascinated with the history lesson. Honestly, he had to wonder why Binns still taught history. The ghost was focused on goblins and goblin wars too much.
Grimjaw cleared his throat and said, ''Good because this is where it gets confusing. The family is short one member, but they have all of the deceased's possessions in their vault. The younger male offspring graduates from Hogwarts, and the parents do the same thing for him, and he does the same thing that his brother did. Fortunately, this young man was able to meet someone at Hogwarts and married soon after. The couple soon have a child, and the line continues, and their vault continues to grow."
Grimjaw took a small break at this point and waved his hand. Two chairs that looked like the ones in his office appeared where they were standing, and he indicated one for Harry to sit.
"Ah, that's better," Grimjaw sighed. "These old bones of mine just aren't what they used to be."
Harry smiled at the goblin from his seat, starting to feel more comfortable in his presence and wondering why wizards, in general, seemed not to like them. This one, at least, seemed rather talkative and, if not necessarily friendly, definitely not hostile.
"Where was I?" Grimjaw continued. ''Ah, yes, now, the female offspring graduates and her parents do the same for her, she does the same, and her vault grows after a few years. At this point, the husband dies, and his son becomes the new head of the family. If he had died before he had an heir of age, his wife would have taken over as regent of the family until the oldest son reached majority. The middle son is now the head of the family, and his vault gets merged with the main vault that was started all those years ago, and he has control over the family fortune. Now, the youngest female offspring is ready to marry. So the new head of the family negotiates with the suitors family for a dowry; this can be anything from a sum of money, to property, to a particularly rare Item. When the dowry is settled, and the two marry, it ties the two families together closer, but the female is, in essence, leaving the original family's name behind."
Grimjaw cleared his throat again and asked, "do you have any questions so far?''
Harry shook his head and said, ''no sir, I think if the history Professor at Hogwarts was as good as you, I might not have such bad grades in that class."
Grimjaw laughed at that and said, "I don't normally talk this much to my clients, but I can't, in good conscience, have an heir to a fortune uninformed of how that fortune came to be."
"I do appreciate the information," said Harry.
"No problem, lad, just remember to tip me generously when you leave, and you and I will get along just fine," Grimjaw said. "Now I'll finish this impromptu history lesson off and let you look around your vault; It’s already past lunchtime."
Harry nodded and listened as Grimjaw continued his lesson.
"The head of the family controls the fortune and, generally, gives out assistance to his siblings if they need it or makes business decisions using the family money. A small percentage goes to his sibling’s vaults for any profit made, but the majority goes to the main family vault. Over the decades, the main vault and the branch vaults grow with good business and hard work, or ruthlessness and savagery, depending on the family. If a family member dies without an heir named, their vault gets added to the family vault, and if the name dies out, it gets passed to the closest descendant that comes from another family. If everyone dies but one person, such as in your case, then that person gets the whole fortune."
Grimjaw peered at Harry closely with his eyes narrowed and said, "that was probably one of the reasons you were sent to your muggle relatives to live in obscurity until you rejoined the magical world and went to school, where you could be protected from some of your less than scrupulous relatives on your father's side. Your mother's relatives, being muggles, wouldn't be able to inherit the Potter fortune if something...untoward, had happened to you, even if they had known about it."
Harry's eyes widened. That did make sense.
'Dammit, so that's that mystery solved, Dumbledore told me that I was protected there; I guess he wasn't just talking about from people who were mad about what happened to Voldedouche, although I imagine the groups overlap a bit.' Harry thought with a grimace. There went any hope of convincing Dumbledore to let him leave, and he didn't know he was ready to be able to protect himself just yet, anyway. 'I'll have to think of something; it wouldn't even be so bad if I was a bit more self-sufficient in that house and had minimal contact with the Dursleys. I also need to find out just who isn't in prison who I could be related to and not put in danger. Well, I have all of this money; that could only help.'
Harry finished with his contemplation and looked at Grimjaw.
"Thank you, sir, for the information and the warning. What would be an appropriate tip for this?" Harry asked.
Grimjaw contemplated for a moment and said, "I think I'll let you decide that; you can tell a lot about a man by how he tips,'' he chuckled.
Harry winced at that and chuckled weakly, "If you think so, sir."
"I do. Now go and look at your heirlooms and don't try to take a single knut," Grimjaw said sternly, taking out a magazine from...somewhere. "Remember, only three heirlooms can be taken at a time, so choose wisely."
Harry nodded and stood up. He walked over to the first shelf and immediately noticed that most of them were rare and expensive items he had seen in some of the higher-tier shops in Diagon Alley. Some were specialty items, really only useful in specific jobs that he wasn't remotely interested in at the moment. A few books about topics that he could barely even read about, much less understand. He didn't see anything that belonged to his parents or anything he couldn't live without. There were several file cabinets that he peaked through and filed the information away for later.
He moved from the shelves and filing cabinets, not seeing anything of particular use or sentimental value; he moved over to the glass display cases. These contained a lot of different uniforms that the various Potters used throughout, what looked like a very long history. Auror robes, healer robes, and what looked suspiciously like what Fudge was wearing under his ridiculous pinstriped cloak. Harry peered at the plaque under these robes, and his eyes widened.
Edmund Potter - Minister of Magic. 1792-1800 .
'Wicked! I'll have to research what he did when he was in office; I hope it was some good things.' Harry was definitely going to make a return trip once he was allowed to.
Harry moved down the line until he came upon something different. Some kind of leather outfit and what looked kind of similar to a muggle muzzleloader, if sleeker. Confused, Harry looked at the plaque under the case.
Edith Potter- Independent curse breaker, Explorer, Inventor, 1658-1706
Underneath the plaque was a small booklet, Harry picked it up and looked at the title.
Adventurer's Armor and Caster
Edith Potter, 1692
Extremely interested at this point, Harry turned to the first page.
This booklet describes my two greatest inventions, The Adventurer's Armor and The Caster. These two artifacts, almost as much as my natural tenacity, are what I attribute my success to. I first thought to mass-produce them as a business venture but thought better of it. While not the most dangerous artifacts out there, these two items together can exponentially increase a person’s power, so I thought it would be better to place them under a patent ward and keep them in the family. Maybe someday there will be a young Potter with a taste for adventure like I have and can find a use for them. Even with as much as the edges of the map are being filled in in my day, there will always be forgotten places to explore and new monsters to fight. Magic just works that way.
Edith Potter- 1701
As he was reading the introduction written by the quill of one of his ancestors and briefly wondering what a patent ward was, he had flashbacks to his own 'adventures.’ A man in front of a mirror with two faces and a half-transparent sixteen-year-old calling for a gigantic, insane snake with a death-stare...
Harry shook his head and looked at the armor closely. The vest and pants were thin, easy enough to conceal under his school robes. The right bracer seemed to have a wand holster built into it; he’d meant to get one of those anyway. The boots looked almost brand new but worn at the same time. The belt had a holster for the Caster and looked extremely comfortable.
He wanted the armor; the only problem was that it seemed to fit a person who was a bit bigger than his skinny, thirteen-year-old frame. He looked at the second page.
Adventurer's Armor.
Yes, it will fit you whether you weigh 100 pounds or 300: auto-sizing runes, easy peasy. Any adventurer knows their runes. Treasure isn’t going to be unprotected now, is it?
It seemed Edith was a bit of a smart-arse and wasn't shy about her apparent ability to anticipate problems with startling accuracy.
It was decided, he was taking them, even the Caster. At first, he was a bit concerned about having a weapon at school; then, he remembered a sword jammed up into the mouth of a ridiculously large snake and a wand capable of casting all manner of unpleasantness. He decided one more couldn't hurt and may help; he wouldn't have to rely on a bird bringing him a patched and ragged hat.
He didn't want to take off all of his clothes in the middle of a bank vault, so he looked around for something to carry it all in until he got somewhere more private. His eyes fell on a smallish, rather plain-looking trunk sitting by a glass case with an Auror’s robes in it. Thinking it would do nicely and maybe Grimjaw wouldn't count a trunk as a third item, because honestly, it's a trunk, he walked over to it, picked it up, and brought it over to the glass case with the armor and Caster in it.
Opening the trunk proved that looks could be deceiving when it grew to the size of a regular trunk and becoming rather ornate in the process. The outside now had seven keyholes with a lovely dark glossy finish and the Potter " P " on the front. Looking on the inside further confused Harry when he only saw a shallow tray with a folded piece of parchment and seven different keys on a keyring.
Harry picked up the parchment and read.
This trunk is a rare kind of trunk with eight compartments. Some of the more well-off aurors like to use them because, well, they are dead useful. Why else would one use something out of the ordinary? Honestly. I'll leave you to figure out how to use it because it's not that difficult. Just a couple of hints though, the first compartment opened with the first key is empty; you can tap it once with your wand to camouflage it, or tap it twice to shrink it to the size of a matchbox. Tap it again to return it to its normal size.
'Were all of my ancestors’ smart-arses, or is it just the ones who left me useful stuff?" Harry thought incredulously.
Harry picked up the keyring, grabbed the key with a " 1 '' on the head, and put it into the corresponding lock. Nothing happened when he turned it.
Harry scratched his head. 'Uh, maybe it needs to be closed?'
He closed the lid and tried again. This time when he opened it, the shallow tray was gone and in its place was what looked like the inside of a standard school trunk. Satisfied, he opened the glass case that held the Adventurer's Armor and The Caster and carefully packed everything into it. He closed the trunk and tapped it twice, watching in amazement at it shrinking down to a size of a matchbox to easily fit into a pocket.
'I am so replacing my school trunk with this.' He thought happily.
Walking further into the vault, He walked over towards one wall that held racks and racks of weapons. All the various kinds of weapons, from simple daggers to a massive spiked hammer with many runes carved into the handle. Each one had a small plaque underneath that held the weapon’s name and who had created it. Harry’s eyes locked onto one of the more simple swords. It was a straight blade with a double edge. There wasn’t a crossguard like the sword of Gryffindor had, but as Harry touched the grip, he felt a sense of kinship with it. Taking hold of it, Harry took it off the rack and looked at the plaque.
Fulham Gladius Sword 47AD
Harry took the sword and swung it once. He didn’t have much experience with blades, well, one experience with a sword, but this one felt right. Looking back at the rack, he grabbed the simple leather sheath. Picking it up, he slipped the blade into it. He noticed that there was a small info card attached to the sheath. Saving it for later, Harry pulled out the trunk and slipped the sword into the same area as the armor and the caster.
Harry walked back over to Grimjaw and said, "I'm finished, sir."
Grimjaw looked over his magazine and asked, "what did you get?"
"Two artifacts called the Adventurer's Armor and The Caster, a small sword, and this trunk," Harry responded, holding up the matchbox-sized trunk.
"Ah, yes, excellent choices. I'll overlook that trunk probably not being empty because I only saw you open the first compartment, which was empty." Grimjaw said.
Harry blinked. He hadn't thought of that.
Grimjaw chuckled at his expression and reassured him, "it's alright, lad. Now let's run by your trust vault and get out of here. I am hungry, and it's far past lunchtime.
Harry nodded, and the two stepped out of the vault.
Another wild cart ride, and Harry was saying goodbye to his account manager after tipping him what the goblin said was a fair amount and walking out of the bank. Grimjaw promised to send him an owl if he found any files or letters that he thought would interest Harry. As Harry looked a the different shops, Harry started making a mental list of the different shops he wanted to explore.
He had decided to buy the snake that he had spoken to earlier, realizing that some portions of his past 'adventures' might have been significantly easier if he had had her earlier. So he stopped by the Menagerie and paid the ten galleons for her. The shopkeeper looked a little uneasy when he just reached into the tank, and the little snake crawled up into his sleeve and wrapped around his arm but shrugged it off quickly enough. Apparently, he had seen stranger things.
After getting some late lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, he decided to get a haircut, and by the time the stylist had finished wrestling the unruly mop on top of his head into something that looked kind of cool, it was getting dark. So he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, Grabbed some dinner, and went up to his room.
He talked to the snake, who he had given the name Ari until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He fell asleep, excited about his newest friend and the fantastic magical objects in his new, equally impressive magic trunk. He couldn't wait until morning to start exploring again.