Chapter 3 – The Alley

Harry continued to learn about the wizarding world every chance he got. He used the
reading materials Professor McGonagall supplied him with over email. He was anxious to find out
about the world his parents lived in.
His uncle and aunt were being supportive, but they could not help much when Harry had
certain questions, so Harry took the initiative to make them read with him what McGonagall sent
him. Dudley was told, and although he was sad for a while that he was not a wizard and could not
go with Harry when he left for Hogwarts, jealous even, he came around after a talk with his mother.
Harry wondered about the contents of that particular discussion, but decided not to pry.
Still, Harry had other things to keep him occupied. He printed out the reading material, so
that whenever he had free time, he could read them anywhere. He could simply ask for and e-
reader or something of the like from his relatives, but they barely let Dudley use their phones. They
were children, after all.
At some point, he wrote to Professor McGonagall, asking how was it possible that she was
using electronics, when all he read said that muggle devices could not work well in areas of magic.
The Professor sent him one of the biggest file attachments to date. In them, Harry discovered, was
the tale of a certain Amanda Goode, a Ravenclaw student at Hogwarts and a muggleborn. There
were news articles, scientific reports, and finally, an obituary. About forty years before Harry was
born, this Amanda Goode started to look into the way muggle devices worked with magic and if
there was any way for them to coexist. There were numerous attempts over her years at Hogwarts
to make it work, none of which were successful. Then, with a stroke of luck, she made it happen,
in the easiest way possible: she simply put magic inside of the device.
She accidentally destroyed a microwave oven in her home, some time after finishing at
Hogwarts. Naturally, she thought to repair it, using a spell. Afterwards, the device appeared to
work under the presence of magic, where it hadn’t done so before. Amanda Goode thought to test
this further, and with Headmaster Dumbledore’s permission, used the microwave inside of
Hogwarts, as the school is the most magically imbued location available in the country. The device
worked, surprisingly. Amanda theorised that by putting magical power into the object it could
make it work with magic. The article went on about how it all worked, going into all sorts of
technical details that Harry couldn’t understand. Suffice it to say, adding magic to muggle devices
made them work in areas of magic. Harry hoped that he would someday understand the actual
process.
Sadly, there were those that opposed Goode’s discoveries. Vehemently, even. They wanted
nothing to do with the usage of muggle artefacts, as they put it, and that things were fine the way
they were. There was opposition, political or otherwise. But Amanda Goode would not back down:
 “We are on the verge of a new century, a new millennium, even.” she said in an article.
“We have a chance to enter a new era of technology, to renew our understanding of the world and
overcome certain difficulties that we faced in the past. It is our duty to give the next generations
the best the world will have to offer. Imagine talking to someone from far away in real time,
imagine receiving imagines and sounds almost immediately from far away places, having access
to a library of information from a single device... All of it is possible, and more. With the current
evolution of muggle technology, we could have things many do not even dream of. They managed
to get on the moon, they breached the frontier of the sky and were able to leave our planet! Why
shouldn’t we? Why shouldn’t we be able to use our magic and their technology at the same time?
It is possible, I have proven as much. With our abilities, we could match their own devices in
record time, or surpass them, even! There is so much more we could accomplish.
I know that there are those who would oppose me, but I remind those people that the
wizarding world has been stagnant for centuries. We rely on candles or gas lamps for lighting,
instead of light bulbs than run on electricity, an energy we can create with our magic, without fear
of pollution! We use quills, instead of using fountain pens that are so much easier to write with!
We wait for days for a reply in a letter, instead of using faster methods of communication! We
close our eyes and pretend that it’s working, but I’m here to tell you that it’s not anymore. Pointy
hats, floating candles and quills may seem fantastic to a muggleborn child, but we are not children
anymore. And if we are not careful, in a few decades, muggle raised witches and wizards will be
leaving our world, feeling that we have nothing to offer them besides living methods that were
considered modern in the 1600s.
Harry believed that she made a few good points. If what he read so far of the wizarding
world was true, then this Amanda Goode was right on track. Harry was sad to read that she died
ten years before he was born. She was found dead and her house nearly in ruins, and the authorities
suspected the work of her opposition, but could never find out who exactly did it. Amanda Goode
made a lot of enemies during her political campaign for change.
After her death, Albus Dumbledore took point. While he was a staunch supporter of
Goode’s work while she was alive, he became downright determined to see her work fulfilled. He
restarted her campaign and fought every single obstacle into his path, until he finally passed a law
that implemented muggle devices into the wizarding world. He even made sure Hogwarts and its
students were up with the times, reforming the school to a modern status. While some claimed that
the Headmaster’s actions as Head of the Wizengemot were verging into power abuse, Dumbledore
was smart; he used every loophole he could find, every legal extent to his position of power and
rallied Goode’s supporters, who increased in numbers after her death. The public outcry for change
was too much for the Ministry’s opposing faction of old fashioned purebloods.
Harry then made some inquiries about the usage of technology in the wizarding world to
McGonagall. She sent a list of reforms and such, and Harry was pleased to discover that in three
short decades, Magical Britain was on par with Muggle Britain. There were other countries who
took the initiative and delved into muggle advancements, but some where still just beginning to
implement them. A small number of countries refused to do such a thing, but there was dissent
with that decision.
 Harry found out, amusingly, that there was a wizarding version of the internet, complete
with sites specifically aimed at wizards. If a muggle opened one, they would be redirected to a
completely useless site, or they would be shown a blank page. It was clever, Harry thought.
Apparently, only wizard devices could access them, as they were somehow charmed to do so.
When first accessing a wizard site they sent out an ‘OK’ signal to the server, allowing the user full
access for all time. Harry couldn’t wait to get his hands on one of those.
And so came the day of Dudley’s eleventh birthday in June. Harry went downstairs to find
his aunt and uncle at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and chatting, having a normal morning
overall. Petunia was doing a crossword puzzle, while Vernon was reading the news from his tablet
and commenting them with his wife. They both bid him a ‘Good morning’ full of smiles. Harry
grumbled in return, being in no position to answer like a human being yet. His eyes were half
closed and his hair was a mess more so than usual. He sat at the table and rested his head upon it
with a groan.
“Someone’s not sleeping well.” remarked Petunia, giving Harry a small glance over her
reading glasses.
“Dudley snores.” said Harry, groaning with half of his mouth on the table.
“You and Dudley had a pretty exciting day at the zoo yesterday, as I recall.” said Vernon.
“It’s a wonder you’re up so early at all.”
Harry raised himself up almost as if he was electrocuted and looked questioningly at his
relatives.
“It’s 7:30, dear.” clarified aunt Petunia.
Harry groaned again and let his head fall back on the table with a small thud.
“Mind your head.” said Vernon almost as if on cue, still looking at his tablet.
“At least he doesn’t have glasses anymore.” sighed aunt Petunia as she wrote another word
down.
Harry received a potion by owl of all things, from McGonagall, two years after their
meeting face-to-face. She attached a letter to it, in it saying that the potion was meant to improve
his vision and that he wold have to take it for some time to make the effects permanent. She also
sent an email, explaining the Oculus Potion, to further clarify its usage and origins. Four years
later, Harry had now no need of wearing glasses anymore, for which he was immensely happy.
“I still think you could ask McGonagall to help with your vision as well, Petunia.” said
Vernon while he stood up to make Dudley’s birthday breakfast.
“I know, but I like wearing them.” replied Petunia. “It makes me feel important and in
command, sometimes.” she finished with a laugh.
“You are aunt Petunia.” said Harry, still half facing down the table. “You are important.”
he continued, to make sure that his aunt got the message.
 “And you are being cute.” said aunt Petunia, kissing the top of his head, before getting back
to her crosswords.
“I’m eleven. I’m allowed.” Harry responded.
“And cheeky, apparently.” laughed Vernon from the stove.
“All right,” started aunt Petunia, straightening her back, “twelve down, six letters, has an
‘A’ in the middle, means ‘to have enough of’.” she finished, waiting for Harry to respond.
“Spades.” yawned Harry as he finally got up to get toast.
“Very good!” she congratulated her nephew and finished her puzzle.
Some time later, when the Dursley adults and Harry were eating at the table, there was a
series of loud sounds coming from the stairs, followed by a small grunt in surprise in the hallway.
Dudley came in to the room, already dressed for the day, with a most gleeful expression on his
face. Harry, along with his aunt and uncle, wished Dudley a ‘Happy Birthday’, but was still
annoyed by the fact that his cousin looked well rested, unlike him.
As Dudley was eating his special breakfast, uncle Vernon resumed to read from his tablet.
“Blast, the internet is down.” he remarked in a frustrated tone when a web page couldn’t
be opened.
“I, uh,” started Dudley, scratching the back of his head, “may have tripped on the way here
on a wire.” he finished lamely.
“You must have unplugged the router.” said uncle Vernon, as he started to get up.
“I’ll get it.” offered Harry, moving faster than his uncle.
Down the hall, Harry went past the cupboard door, while still not acknowledging it, and
checked the Wi-Fi router. Indeed, Dudley somehow managed to yank the ethernet cable from the
device as he tripped, breaking the plastic cap that secured its position in the port.
Harry put the cable back in the device, although he was aware that it wouldn’t stay that
way if someone moved it again, so he made sure the wire on the floor was against the wall and
under the carpet, for good measure.
“Is it working now?” he shouted.
As he received affirmation from his uncle, Harry made a move to go back to his meal. But
before he could do that, he heard the mailbox opening from behind him. Harry went to collect the
mail, which was composed of some postcards, a letter from Marge, uncle Vernon’s sister, and a
few bills. But what made Harry’s body go numb with anticipation was the heavy envelope, with a
purple wax on the front, depicting a crest that the boy knew too well. It was addressed to him; on
the back it said ‘Mr H. Potter, Second Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.’
in green ink.
 “Are you checking for bombs, Harry?” laughed uncle Vernon from the kitchen, making
Harry return to reality.
“We’re going to need a new ethernet cable.” Harry said as he came back to his relatives
and gave his uncle the mail. “Dudley broke the plastic thingy when he ripped it out.”
“I think we have a spare one.” said Vernon, looking at his wife, who nodded in response.
“Well, just be more careful in the future, champ.” he said to his son, whose ears were now turning
pink at the tips. “Let’s see, postcards from Yvonne in Malta, some bills,” continued Uncle Vernon
as he sifted through the mail, “and a letter from Marge.” he remarked, as he opened the contents.
“Marge has fallen ill, ate a funny whelk!” he spoke in a concerned voice.
“Harry, did you get a letter?” asked Dudley, interrupting his father.
Harry was still standing up, holding the parchment meant for him, staring at it. He jumped
slightly when Dudley addressed him.
“Yeah, I think.” he said lamely as he sat down at the table, his family’s eyes now firmly
set upon him.
“Well?” asked Vernon. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Who’s it from?”
“Hogwarts.” said Harry, almost trembling.
There was a moment of pause between the four occupants of the room. Then, shouts began
from the three Dursleys, all encouraging Harry to sit down and open the letter. The boy did so,
with the nerves from the anticipation almost getting to him as he began to read loudly his letter.
Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins this year on September 5th. You will depart for the school on the 4th. We await
your response by owl/email no later than July 31st.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall.
As he finished, Harry immediately sought to read the second page of his letter. It noted the
following equipment: three sets of black robes to wear over his other clothes, a winter cloak, a pair
of dragon hide gloves for protection, a list of books for his courses, a wand, a pair of scales, a
cauldron, a telescope and a set of vials. At the bottom, however it said that students were allowed
to bring muggle devices with them to Hogwarts, as was their right given by the Educational Decree
Nº 22, but it was also reminded that owning such devices in Hogwarts was not mandatory. The
letter then said something about first years not being allowed to have broomsticks and that they
could bring an owl, cat or toad as pets.
 Harry was then completely overwhelmed with joy. He was going to Hogwarts, finally. He
had to admit to himself that deep down he thought he would never get the letter in time, or that he
would be told that they made a mistake telling him that he was a wizard and make him forget or
something... But now he possessed the irrefutable evidence that he was indeed going to the school.
Vernon and Petunia tried to take control of the situation and calm down the over excited
Harry, while managing and equally ecstatic Dudley, who was jumping up and down with his
cousin, yelling something unintelligible. But there would be no calming Harry down for some
time.
After a while, Harry managed to send to McGonagall an email, saying he got the letter and
that he accepts his enrolment into the school. He even scanned his signature and his relatives’ for
good measure. McGonagall responded nearly an hour later, giving him details of how to get to
Platform 9¾. She also reminded Harry that tomorrow after breakfast he was supposed to be
escorted to Diagon Alley to purchase his equipment. Harry wondered if she was going to come
herself to guide him, or she would send someone in her stead.
Harry got his answer the next day, when, after gulfing down his breakfast (much to his
aunt’s displeasure), the doorbell rang. The boy jumped from the seat before anyone could stop him
and opened the front door. There, right on his doorstep was a giant man, taller than anyone Harry
had ever seen, massive, with long bushy hair and beard, smiling ear to ear. He had to crouch a little
to see Harry
“Hello there, Harry!” the man said.
“Erm... Hello?” said Harry, unsure.
“Oh, where me manners?” he said as he shook Harry’s hand with a palm as big as trashcan
lids. “Name’s Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts.”
Harry made a small sound of recognition and resumed his initial excitement. He knew
about Hagrid, as McGonagall sometimes mentioned him in her emails about the school. Of course,
she never said anything about the man being part giant, at least.
“Harry, who’s at the door?” asked Petunia, who made a remarkably similar expression to
Harry when she noticed Hagrid.
“Mrs Dursley.” said Hagrid with a tight voice. “I’m here to help Harry buy his school
supplies. Will that be okay with yeh? Name’s...”
“Hagrid... I think I know you.” said Petunia, looking straight at the giant man’s face and
narrowing her eyes. “You were there, at the diner.” she exclaimed after a moment.
Hagrid looked elsewhere, but Harry could see red cheeks under al that facial hair. The man
stammered something, before coughing loudly.
“Well, we best be goin’ now, Harry.” said Hagrid, motioning for him.
 “Take care of him and have him home by 5, Hagrid.” said Petunia, before she closed the
door behind Harry.
The boy was stunned at first. Here was this man that he didn’t know, promising him to take
him to Diagon Alley, which went against some of his teachings about ‘stranger danger’, but aunt
Petunia seemed to know and trust this man on some level.
“How do you and aunt Petunia know each other?” asked Harry as they reached the bus
station.
“Well, I have to tell yeh to ask your aunt abou’ that.” said Hagrid in a gruff voice. “Now,
aren’ yeh excited?” he continued, changing subjects.
As Harry went on a tirade about the areas of magic he wished to learn about, Hagrid pulled
out something like a large tablet or at least a small T.V. screen from one of his pockets (who Harry
suspected were enchanted to be bigger on the inside) and tapped slowly and deliberately, while he
made a few comments to Harry’s side of the conversation.
“Where can I get one of those?” asked Harry after Hagrid finished with what he was doing.
“A phone?” asked Hagrid. “Didn’ yer relatives give yeh one? I know yeh’re a kid an’ all,
Harry, but they musta be able ter reach yeh somehow!” he said angrily.
“They did ask if they could give me one.” explained Harry calmly. “I said no, given that I
would need a wizard phone when I got to Hogwarts and that would mean they would spend money
for nothing.”
“Oh, so yeh were asking...”
“Where is the store for wizard phones.” intoned Harry, slightly confused. “What did you
think I was asking?”
“’S... never mind.” Hagrid shook his head rapidly, making his beard look like a small dog
shaking. “The store is called WizTech, they have a few shops here and there, bu’ the biggest one
is in Diagon. You can buy almost any muggle device from there.
“Are all WizTech devices so large?” asked harry before he could stop himself. “It’s just
that I learned from what Professor McGonagall sent me that just normal magical enlargement
doesn’t work so well with these types of devices.” he finished.
“Ah... not really.” said Hagrid with embarrassment. “Dumbledore commissioned this
special edition of Corralle for me.” he explained as he showed the phone to Harry, who needed
both hands to secure it. It looked very much like a normal phone, although Harry suspected it
worked far better than its muggle counterpart.
“Albus Dumbledore? The Headmaster? That was nice of him.” said Harry as tried several
times to unlock the phone by sliding.
“Yeah. Great man, Dumbledore. Great man.” agreed Hagrid.
 “So how are we getting there?” Harry asked, handing back the giant man’s phone to him.
“Ah, almos’ forgot.” said Hagrid as he tapped a few times on his phone then put it back in
his pocket. “There, that should do it. Should arrive in a minute or so.”
“I don’t suppose you called for a broomstick or a motorcycle.” joked Harry.
Hagrid just gave a booming laugh as a small bang was heard from the distance. The next
second, a purple three story bus was in front of them. Then, a lad that was barely seventeen, with
protruding ears and quite a few pimples, came from the front of the vehicle.
“’Ello, my name’s Stan Shunpike and this is the Knight Bus.” he said in a monotone voice.
“I’m to be... Ah, ‘Agrid!” he cheered up when he saw the giant.
“Mornin’, Stan!” greeted Hagrid the teenager. He got up with a small grunt and motioned
for Harry to follow him. Hagrid paid Stan some silver coins and got two tickets from him. “The
Leaky Cauldron, if yeh don’t mind.”
“Hello.” said Harry in a small voice. Stan tried to go for a polite smile, but the fact that he
was chewing gum while doing so made him looked rather silly, in Harry’s opinion. He didn’t pay
attention to what the conductor and Hagrid were talking about, he was too busy taking in the
wonders of the vehicle. It was more spacious on the inside and there were armchairs and tables all
around the interior, with a set of stairs to the back that went to the other levels. Harry could see
some other wizards and witches littered about, either chatting with their table neighbours or
drinking their coffee or tea in silence. Some were reading the newspaper, while others, younger
than the rest, Harry noted, used phones. As Harry looked out the window, the sight made him blink
in surprise: they were moving. He never even felt or heard the Knight Bus start. He supposed he
might’ve missed the engine starting, but surely he could not space out enough to miss being thrown
back as the bus sped up?
“Inertia dampenin’ spells.” explained Hagrid after one look at Harry’s face. “Used ter be
we were flyin’ around whenever the blasted bus braked.” he intoned in a gruff voice.
Harry thought it was dead useful, as there would be no need for seatbelts. They appeared
to be moving at a very rapid pace, sometimes not even on land. There were a few stops along the
way, where some witches and wizards climbed down, but after fifteen minutes or so, the bus was
going through the streets of London, stopping on Charing Cross Road, to a seemingly unimportant
location. But as Harry looked closer, he could see the sign of a witch stirring into a pot right above
a door. There were people passing by it, not paying attention to the door in the slightest.
Hagrid bid goodbye to Stan and the driver, whose name Harry didn’t catch, and went
through the door.
"This is it – the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place." said Hagrid as they stepped inside.
For a famous place, Harry thought it was rather shabby looking and quite dark. There were
a few women drinking sherry in the back and a few men near the bar, one of them smoking a pipe.
The barkeep, an elderly man with no hair on his head, greeted Hagrid with a nearly toothless grin.
 “Ah, Hagrid. The usual, I presume?”
“No time for drinks, Tom. I’m here on official Hogwarts business.”
“Who’s your little friend, there?” asked Tom, noticing Harry.
“This here, is Harry Potter!” intoned Hagrid happily.
There was a stone cold silence afterwards, Harry noted. While before it wasn’t bustling
with noise or chatter, now it was actually quieter than a grave, as what few patrons of the pub were
now staring at him through the dim lighting. Then, as if controlled by an unseen force, all of them
descended upon Harry, trying to shake his hand, introduce themselves and congratulate him.
“Martha Gilesbee, delighted to meet you!”
“My word, Mr Potter, we are so happy to see you here!”
“Dedalus Diggle, Mr Potter, words cannot describe how thrilled I am to finally meet you!”
“I know you.” said Harry to Dedalus. “I saw you, once, when I was eight. I was at the
superstore with my aunt and cousin.”
“He remembers me!” he shouted to a positively envious crowd. “See? Harry Potter knows
who I am!”
“Alright, alright!” voice Hagrid loudly after a minute, seeing the slight discomfort on
Harry. “No need to hound ‘im, he’s just a kid fer cryin’ out loud!”
The people surrounding them were suddenly reminded that they were crowding on an
eleven year old, and so gave them a wide berth, still shouting thanks to Harry.
The boy didn’t understand any of it. He was being congratulated, but what for? What did
he do that he was so spectacular and widely known for it? It couldn’t have been because he
Apparated in the cupboard, he must’ve done something.
“Hagrid, why did those people know me?” asked Harry as they went in some small
backyard with a brick wall at the end and some trashcans on the right.
“Didn’ McGonagall tell yeh?” responded the giant man.
“Not really.” admitted Harry. “She and I never spoke of anything other than wizarding
world matters. I asked her once why that bad wizard went after my parents, but she said that it
wasn’t appropriate for her to say such things over email.”
“Well, now is not the time fer it, anyway.” said Hagrid as he took something like a pink
umbrella and tapped several bricks in the wall. When he finished, the bricks started to move right
before Harry’s eyes, forming an archway. Behind it was a paved road with colourful buildings on
either side, bright and cheerful, louder than Harry would have anticipated. There were people
scurrying about, chatter running rampant. And there were things on the alley that just screamed
witchcraft, like cauldrons, owl, broomsticks, potions, and almost everything one can imagine.
 “Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley!” exclaimed Hagrid proudly.
Harry was happy to take it all in. He was more than excited to purchase his books and other
school necessities. He also wanted devices from WizTech, but he remembered that he was on a
budget.
“First, we go ter Gringotts.” said Hagrid as they walked down the shops, as if reading
Harry’s mind. “I need ter finish some Hogwarts business and you need to visit yer vault.”
“My vault?” exclaimed Harry, unbelieving. “In the wizard’s bank? But how could I...”
“Well, you didn’ think yer parents left yeh with nothin’.” said the giant man in a knowing
tone.
Harry wanted to ask more, as this was brand new information to him. He never knew his
parents’ financial situation, having no need for it before. He had some idea that they were at least
capable of supporting a child, from what Petunia mentioned, but not much else.
As Harry and Hagrid passed the first set of doors, past the white stairs, they encountered
an entrance hall, with another set of doors. There were words engraved on the doors, Harry
discovered.
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
“Yeh’d have ter be mad ter break in Gringotts.” noted Hagrid in a grave voice. Harry had
to agree. From what he knew of the security measures, breaking in this place would be incredibly
stupid, or at least a sign of insanity.
The main hall of the bank was a tall, imposing room, with little bald men sitting at high
tables made of dark shining wood. They were all very busy, either writing or examining coins or
jewellery. ‘Goblins’, Harry reminded himself. Although they didn’t seem threatening at first
glance, Harry remembered that they had sharp fingernails and teeth, and a thirst for blood. It didn’t
help that the lightning in the room made the goblins seem even more dangerous, by placing them
in semi-shadows, making them look more mysterious.
And Hagrid just had to approach the one nearly at the end of the room, with the only table
that faced the entrance, while the others face the left and right walls.
“Hello,” said Hagrid in a gruff voice to the menacing looking goblin, “I’m here regarding
You-Know-What in vault You-Know-Which and help Mr Harry Potter here make a withdrawal
from his vault.”
 The goblin stopped what he was doing almost immediately. He leaned forward slowly and
looked at Harry over his half-moon glasses with an interested expression on his face.
“Good day...” started Harry, “Chief-Manager Ragnok.” he continued, as he read the golden
nameplate in front of the goblin.
Ragnok smiled, or at least did something that resembled a smile, and looked back to Hagrid.
“Very well.” he said with a low voice. “And does Mr Harry Potter has his key?” he finished
with a well measured tone.
“Oh, hang on a minute.” said Hagrid as he searched through his pockets, until finally he
found a small silver key with an intricate design at the end, and placed it in front of the goblin.
“This is the key to Mr Potter’s trust vault, am I correct?” he said in an unimpressed tone.
How he knew that just from looking at the key, Harry could not figure out.
“Yes, it is.” said Hagrid, slightly puffing his chest. “And the other matter?” he continued,
placing a letter in front of the goblin. Ragnok read it carefully, maintaining the same expression of
slight intrigue on his face.
“All is in order.” he declared. “I will call on my assistant to help you with your business.”
he finished as he pressed his palm on a circular device. There was no sound heard, but within a
few seconds a pair of doors from the right opened. A younger looking goblin made his way to
them, bowing to Ragnok when he arrived, who made a small gesture with his head in recognisance.
“Griphook, I ask that you see these two gentlemen to these vaults.” intoned Ragnok with an
authoritative voice. “And see that Mr Potter is aware of his finances.” he finished, handing some
papers on a clipboard to Griphook.
“Yes, sir.” he said, bowing once more to Ragnok, before turning to the two heavy doors to
the left of his manager. “Follow me, please.” he said to Harry and Hagrid in a high voice.
“Thank you, Chief-Manager Ragnok.” said Harry as he left, trying to replicate the small
bow Griphook made, hoping he did not make a fool of himself. But Ragnok seemed surprised, to
say the least, and did the exact same gesture he did to Griphook, while mouthing something like
‘You are welcome.’ to Harry.
The heavy doors opened and Harry, Hagrid and Griphook stepped in a stone tunnel. At the
end there was a railroad and a cart with two lights on its front, guarded by two armoured goblins.
The cart was spacious enough, which was a blessing in itself, considering Hagrid’s size.
As they began to move, Harry noted that they were actually going down, deep under London.
“Mr Potter, let me welcome you into Gringotts.” said Griphook, turning to Harry, who was
having a hard time trying to remember all the turns they took. “Now, we are going to see your trust
vault, one that is intended for your personal use until you reach majority. However, given the
nature of your situation, the amount the vault receives monthly has been increased to help pay for
your education.”
 “Who made the account, or vault?” asked Harry.
“James and Lily Potter.” Griphook read from the clipboard Ragnok gave him. Harry had
his heart in his throat at the mention of his deceased parents, but decided to ignore the feeling for
the moment. “The vault was always intended for underage members of the Potter family to use,
but James and Lily Potter were the only ones in the last few centuries to exponentially increase the
amount. They wanted to make sure (at this he strained a bit to read, as the lightning was suddenly
worse the deeper they descended) that you had enough for your education and for yourself at the
same time, in the eventuality of their deaths. Monthly deposits for five hundred galleons are made
from the main Potter vault, while a sum of five thousand galleons is deposited yearly, on June 1st,
starting this year for the next six years.” Griphook finished reading his notes.
“There is another vault?” asked Harry, now very much curious.
“Yes, there is the main Potter vault, located deep below us, from which all deposits are
made to your trust vault.” the goblin explained, without having to look at the files.
“And how much, if you don’t mind me asking, is in the main vault?” Harry questioned.
“Take a look.” smiled Griphook, showing a row of very sharp and pointed teeth as he
handed Harry the clipboard.
The boy took it and strained a bit to read. He was confronted with a lot of numbers and
percentages, but he finally found something that looked like a total amount at the bottom. When
he did, he had to make sure that he read it properly, or that there was a dot or a comma somewhere
he couldn’t see.
“Are those...” tried Harry, but could not believe what he read.
“Yes.” answered Griphook simply.
“That is an awful lot of numbers.” he remarked. He looked at Hagrid out of the corner of
his eye and observed that the giant man’s eyebrows were up in his hairline in surprise.
“Ah, but all of them correct. I made sure myself.” laughed Griphook, a sharp barking sound
that made the hair on the back of Harry’s head stand up.
“Is it... do I have to do anything, sign someone to mange...” tried Harry, but could not say
the word fortune.
“There is no need for you do to anything in particular, yet. All the vaults have been signed
to you, as of November 1st 2001, the main vault will be available to you once you are an adult and
your finances had no trouble so far. An amount of money like that takes care of itself quite nicely.”
“You need money to make money.” said Harry to no one in particular. “It’s a muggle
phrase.” he explained when he saw Griphook’s questioning look.
“And one that I approve of. We have arrived.” Griphook informed the two.
 They arrived at a seemingly unremarkable location, with a circular metal door in the wall.
Harry, with some help from Hagrid, got out of the cart and stood behind Griphook.
“Vault 687.” the goblin intoned, as he used the silver key by putting it in a very small
opening above his head. The vault door opened with a heavy sound, old hinges creaking under the
weight. Inside there were mounds of gold, heaps of silver and towers of bronze, in a cavern the
size of the Dursley’s kitchen and living room. And to think, Harry barely accepted to take 500
pounds from his relatives for shopping.
“I take it everything is in order?” asked Griphook.
Harry could only nod in response. Griphook then suddenly closed the vault door, much to
Harry’s surprise.
“Place your hand over the door, Mr Potter.” he commanded.
Harry did as he was told, although he was still completely taken by surprise over the
goblin’s act. As he touched the metal door, the cold surface suddenly got very warm under his
palm. There was another rumbling coming from the metal, very faint, almost as if the door was far
away from Harry. There was a strange feeling going through him, like a trickle of electricity, until
it all finally stopped, leaving Harry feeling silly for standing there with his hand shot out.
“Very well, it seems you are who you claim to be.” said Griphook. “You may remove your
hand.” he added with a small laugh.
“That was a test to see that I am indeed me?” asked Harry.
“Yes. If it was an impostor, you would have been pushed backwards.” responded Griphook
as he went back to the cart. Harry realised that if that were to happen, he would’ve fallen down the
abyss under the railroad.
“But, can I make a withdrawal?” asked Harry desperately, seeing Griphook go back to man
the cart.
“Do not worry, Mr Potter, for the past decades we at Gringotts came to the conclusion that
carrying a purse full of coins is rather unpractical, so we accepted new methods of transferring
money.” declared the goblin.
“Like a debit card?” Harry guessed.
“Yes, in fact. On the main level I will present you with one. It can be used in both muggle
and wizarding world.” continued Griphook, as they went in the cart.
“And how is a... Galleon,” Harry remembered, “worth in British pounds?”
“One Galleon is worth five British pounds.” answered Griphook, at which Harry nodded.
There was a groan coming from Harry’s right. Hagrid was green in the face and was holding a fist
to his mouth.
 “Hagrid, are you alright?” asked Harry, turning to the giant man. “You barely said anything
the entire ride.”
“The cart ride makes me feel queasy, Harry.” groaned Hagrid. “Best not ter talk righ’ now.”
They went for another minute or so, going deeper into the cavern. They stopped at what
Griphook announced was vault 713. The door looked even heavier than the one on Harry’s vault.
Griphook made some complicated gestures on the door, who opened after numerous locks were
heard clicking. Inside there was a small pouch on a pedestal, no bigger than a fist. Harry thought
it must be something very important, seeing there was a locked door keeping the object inside.
Hagrid took the pouch, placed it inside his coat, and made a shushing sound to Harry.
“Hogwarts business Harry. Best not mention it ter anyone, yeah?” requested the giant.
Harry indeed got a debit card a few minutes later. It was a lot like a muggle card, looked
very much like it, only it was more durable and heavier than Harry would have expected. He was
told that he could use it as he wished, but he could not exceed the current amount in his vault.
Harry thanked Griphook for it and promised to use it carefully.
Hagrid then steered a bubbly Harry to a WizTech outlet, much to the boys delight. This
was finally his chance to get a wizard device. As they entered the store, Harry was very much
reminded of every high end electronics store he saw. There were a few people in, trying various
devices and models, with a few store clerks trying to help potential customers. The clerks all wore
the same kind of t-shirt, with the WizTech logo and its tagline (Which tech? WizTech.), a grey shirt
whose words glowed at random times, making them look like walking disco balls.
Harry spent the next few minutes trying to decide what to purchase, with some help from
Hagrid, who gave helpful comments here and there. Finally, Harry wanted to make a purchase he
could be prod of, and now that he could afford it, bought a laptop, a tablet and a phone, all Titan
models, who were the latest generation available on the market. He knew little about computer
specifications, but what he remembered from what his uncle taught him, the devices he bought
seemed good enough.
Hagrid offered to carry the packages, despite being incredibly light even to Harry. The
latter wanted to purchase his books next, but Hagrid reminded him that it wasn’t necessary
anymore: “Blimey, Harry, yeh wouldn’ want ter carry books with yeh when yeh can buy them
electronically?” Of course, the giant man was right. So, after getting his robes fitted from a shop
called Madam Malkin’s and getting his other various equipment from other stores, he finally went
to Ollivander’s to get a wand.
“Ah, just remembered, Harry, I need ter finish some business. Won’ be long now, just go
inter the shop and buy yer wand. If you can, that is.” Hagrid laughed as he nudged Harry to
Ollivander’s. Harry had no idea what he meant by that, but went in anyway. Inside the dusty and
dingy shop, there were rows upon rows of rectangular boxes, who seemed to span every wall.
There was a sound of wheels and a man with grey hair and fancy robes appeared on a ladder,
somewhere in front of Harry. The man had a knowing smile on his face and spoke with a rich, low
voice.
 “Good day, Mr Potter. Yes, I know who you are,” he said noticing Harry’s blink of surprise
as he climbed down the ladder, “you are rather famous in these parts. I waited for the chance to
present you with your wand, as I did for your parents when they were your age.”
“You did?” asked Harry a bit too hastily, but Ollivander seemed happy to answer him.
“Yes, I did. I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr Potter. You will find that there are no
two wands completely alike, as there are no two wizards or witches completely the same. I usually
use three cores for the wand,” he explained as he looked around his shop, “the materials that
channel the magic from the user to the wand: phoenix feathers, dragon heartstrings and unicorn
hair. Now, what hand is your dominant one?” asked Ollivander, turning to Harry.
“My right one.” answered Harry. Immediately, a seamstress tape started flowing around
Harry, measuring different aspects of him, like the length from his fingers to his elbow, the
circumference of his hand and so forth, all which seemed rather ridiculous to Harry, but he said
nothing, instead he listened to Ollivander speak.
“Now, there are different types of wood that make the body of the wand, all for different
purposes. Say, a wand’s wood could make it better at transfiguration or charms, depending on its
nature. For example, your father’s wand wood was mahogany, excellent for Transfigurations,
while your mother preferred a willow one, more useful for Charms. Now, I would like you to try
this one, Mr Potter, thirteen and a half inches, alder with unicorn tail hair...” the elder wandmaker
said as he handed Harry a box.
What happened for the next few minutes was that Harry tried almost three dozen wands,
each of them either producing disastrous results or none at all. The boy was slowly losing
confidence, as he remembered Hagrid’s words. But Ollivander seemed positively delighted at the
situation, pleased to have such a tricky customer.
“I wonder...” pondered Ollivander, looking at his shelves. He reached out and took one
from the highest shelf, a dusty black box of no distinction. “Eleven inches, holly and phoenix
feather, nice and supple.”
Harry held the wand, whose handle suddenly went warm, like the vault door. With a flick
of his wrist, Harry somehow made all of the wands that he went through go back in their boxes
and on the shelves. For a moment, he was completely over the moon, as he finally produced magic
of his own free will, with his own proper wand. But the object in question started to shake in his
hand, almost violently so. Harry’s eyes went wide with fear and tried to stop the wand somehow,
but it was too late: the wand exploded right in his hand with the sound of a small bomb, leaving
behind a contour of itself, made of golden sparkles that then disappeared into Harry’s hand.
The boy was shocked and terrified that he did something wrong, but Ollivander exclaimed
with joy, something that made Harry think the man was slightly off his rocker.
“Ohooo, splendid! Why, Mr Potter, I had hoped it would be the case, but it is still
extraordinary, to say the least!” the man clapped his hands.
“I – I’m so sorry, Mr Ollivander, I don’t know...”
 “Nonsense,” waved Ollivander dismissively, “you did nothing wrong. What just happened
was a testament to the evolution of the wizarding generations. There are some wizards and witches,
like yourself, that bond with their wand so strongly, the wand attaches itself to their magic,
permanently. It is a rather recent occurrence, the talent surfaced sometime in the last two centuries
and it did so rarely. Nowadays, more and more young magical children seem to posses the talent
for wandless magic, like yourself.”
“So... I didn’t break it?” Harry asked to be sure.
“You did, in a sense.” laughed Ollivander. “The wand’s power is now permanently
attached to you.”
“But... why?” exclaimed Harry. “Nothing I read about in what Professor McGonagall sent
remotely mentioned this!” he shrieked, looking at his hands in horror.
“Ah.” Ollivander made a noise of understanding. “You must forgive Minerva, she always
had a habit of forgetting about certain details. It was discovered” Ollivander recited “two centuries
ago, like I mentioned, that certain witches and wizards had no need for wands, instead they
performed magic without it. Of course, it was not unheard of; some could use magic without
wands, to some extent, but as it came to light some individuals were able to take a wand’s power
in themselves and use it as a normal witch or wizard, only without the actual wand. Imagine how
every wandmaker felt at the time, thinking they would go out of business, the government officials
frightened that they would have no means of punishing criminals by taking their source of casting
magic. But wandlessers, as we came to call the likes of you, Mr Potter, still needed to obtain a
wand before it bonded with them and several methods of stopping a wandlesser’s use of magic
were invented, in case they were needed.” he finished telling. “Instead of channelling your magic
through it, you will channel it through your own body, more so in your hands. Useful, don’t you
think? But I find it curious that particular wand was meant for you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Harry, still reeling from before.
“The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter. It’s not always clear why. But,” he made a
dramatic pause,” I think in this case it is clear. The phoenix whose feather was in you wand gave
another feather to a wand. Just one other. The same wand that gave you that scar.” he pointed at
Harry’s forehead.
It was unfortunate that Hagrid chose that exact moment to enter the shop, interrupting
Harry’s next question. Hagrid and Ollivander chatted for a bit, something about Hagrid wand’s
remains. Harry paid for his wand, the one he would never feel in his hands and went outside.
“Here, Harry, I know it’s a bit early, but I wanted ter give yeh a present anyhow.” the man
proclaimed, showing Harry a snowy owl in a cage. Harry’s eyes went wide with joy, thanking
Hagrid every five seconds, while inspecting the owl, who patiently waited for the boy to finish.
The pair made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for some food and something for Hagrid to
calm his nerves after his debacle with the cart ride.
 “Hagrid, can you tell me now why did my parents die?” asked Harry once they were sitting
down at their table in the pub.
“Well, You-Know-Who killed them, Harry.”
“I know that,” said Harry in a slightly angry tone, frustrated with people’s attempts at
circumventing the issue. “I meant why did he kill them?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” confessed Hagrid. “It may be that they were a target ter him
because your father was a pure-blood, a wizard whose parents are also wizards, and your mother
was a muggleborn. Yeh see, there are people who think that havin’ children with muggleborns
‘dilutes’ their bloodline and other such crap.” he grumbled, apparently not caring that he said a
bad word in the presence of a child. “You-Know-Who believed in this blood purity and so he
wanted to eradicate all muggles and muggleborns. Yer parents opposed him, naturally.”
“So how come they died but I lived?”
“That’s the thing, Harry,” Hagrid lowered his tone to a mere whisper, “no one knows how
yeh did it; it was supposed to be impossible to survive the curse that kills, much less when it came
from You-Know-Who when he wanted ter kill yeh. That’s why yeh’re famous, Harry, yeh survived
the Killing Curse. Yeh’re the Boy Who Lived. More ‘n that, that night he disappeared completely,
some say he even died because of yeh.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” protested Harry. “I was barely one year old when it happened!
How could I stand up to a wizard at that age? And why doesn’t anyone tell me his name? I saw
‘You-Know-Who’ every time I looked for a mention of the wizard that did this in the articles
McGonagall sent me, but not once his name!” he complained further.
“Not many know his true name Harry, and I don’t know anyone who does. But we know
him under a different name, one that strikes fear inter every wizard and witch who knew abou’
him. You have to understand, Harry, he did some pretty horrible things, most people are ready to
forget he ever was real.”
“But he is real!” exclaimed Harry, gathering some looks from other patrons. “He killed my
parents, tried to kill me, gave me this scar and made everyone know me! Please, tell me what his
name is, Hagrid. I have to know.” pleaded Harry.
“Alright, alright, don’ start with me. His name was... his name was Voldemort.” whispered
Hagrid with a frightened expression. “I know I shouldn’t be scared of his name anymore, bu’ I
can’t keep feelin’ like he’s not completely gone, yeh know? I reckon he’s still out there,
somewhere, gatherin’ his strength, biddin’ his time.”
Harry suddenly got the impression of a dark robe covering a tall person, a glimpse of red
eyes and a very cold feeling followed by a green light. He thought the green light was the thing
that killed his parents, the curse Hagrid mentioned.
“Do you think he’ll come back, Hagrid?” asked Harry in a small voice a few moments
later, staring into space.
 “I hope he doesn’t, Harry. I really do.” answered Hagrid, taking a sip of the brandy he
ordered.