Chapter Text
Harry woke up on his thirteenth birthday to agonizing pain lancing through his body. It felt like he had been struck by lightning, and as he sat bolt upright in the flimsy bed the Dursleys had provided for him every light bulb in the house lit up with incandescent brightness before bursting, all simultaneously. It was all he could do for a moment to just breathe. once he heard his uncles confused cursing from down the hall however, reality came crashing back down on him. Why was this happening? he hadn't had accidental magic since before he started Hogwarts.
"BOY!" Vernon's furious bellow turned Harry's blood cold, but then he heard his aunt;
"Vernon, it cant have been the boy, it was every light in the house, it must have been a power surge." her voice was placating and soft as she tried to quell her husbands rage.
"You're probably right Pet' this is no freakish trick, it has to just be the shoddy work of those damned electricians." Vernon Grumbled, Harry let out a sigh of relief, he wouldn't be blamed after all.
He was however made to clean up all of the broken glass and replace all of the light bulbs. even as he was doing this his body continued to be racked by waves of pain. He briefly wondered if the basilisk's venom had caught up to him, maybe he was dying. These concerns were surprisingly dismissed by his aunt when she pulled him aside;
"I know that was you," she spat, "The same thing happened on your mothers thirteenth birthday."
"Why would you lie to Vernon?" Harry asked quietly.
"Because I don't fancy having a toad for a husband, for a few days your-" she paused clearly not wanting to say the forbidden word, "Freaky abilities will be unpredictable, Lily turned all of her vegetables to sweets accidentally for days." Petunias face looked almost sad for a moment before she resumed her standard expression of disgust.
"I want you to stay as far away from my family as possible for the next few days, do you understand?"
Harry just nodded. He wanted to ask if his mother had also experienced the pain, but he new better than to ask questions. Petunia gave him a list of chores to do, which really weren't all that bad considering they kept him far away from Dudley and Vernon. Unfortunately that didn't last for long. That same afternoon Vernon called all of them to the living room so that he could make an announcement.
"Marge will be staying with us for a week," Vernon informed them, looking rather smug. He turned to Harry, "I've informed her that you've been attending Saint Brutus's secure school for incurably criminal boys, and you'll stick to that if you know what's good for you, i don't want any funny business you hear me?" Vernon wagged his finger at Harry threateningly. Harry nodded quickly. Aunt Petunia's face drained of all colour as she processed the information, she looked at Harry as if he was a ticking time bomb. He wondered if he was.
Harry managed to get Vernon to agree to sign his Hogsmeade permission slip if he 'behaved' for the entire time Marge was here. For the first two days he managed quite well, though the strange racking pains hadn't stopped, and he could practically feel his magic trying to break free. On the third day his control slipped when Marge had compared his mother to a dog, calling her a bitch. His magic had lashed out and caused the wine glass she had been holding to explode. Luckily, she had assured Vernon and Petunia that she just had a strong grip and that this kind of thing happened to her all the time. As soon as it had happened however, he had been hit by a fresh wave of agony. It felt like he was being torn apart and compressed at the same time. No one noticed the pain he was in, as he was able to continue doing the dishes.
There had been a few similar incidents that no one had noticed, all preceded by bouts of fresh agony. But all in all, it had been going okay, until dinner on the final night. Marge had crossed a line, calling his parents good for nothing drunks. Harry felt his magic snap, like a rubber band pulled too tight it shot towards Marge, stoping her mid sentence.
Harry watched, both horrified and thrilled, as Marge blew up like some kind of nightmarish flesh balloon. Harry was once again racked with pain, but the adrenaline running through him made it seem insignificant. He fled, taking advantage of the Dursleys distraction he charged to the cupboard that used to be his bedroom, his magic burst open the padlock before he could even think, he heaved his trunk to the front door before running upstairs to retrieved all of his belongings from Dudley's second bedroom. once downstairs once more he heard his uncle bellowing at him in rage, he didn't waste time listening to his treats, he just ran, dragging his trunk behind him.
Eventually, he had to stop, his entire body felt like it was on fire, and not just from running with his heavy trunk. Something was happening with his magic, but he had no idea what, or if it was normal. Harry remembered the twins telling him something about 'just wait 'til you turn thirteen' but he hadn't known what they were talking about, now he was wishing he'd bothered to ask.
As he finally caught his breath he looked up and froze, in the alley across the road there was a massive black dog, it had intense silver eyes that looked somehow familiar to harry. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the dog. before he could do anything though, he heard a loud 'BANG' and stumbled back as a large purple bus appeared.
The acne ridden young conductor explained that this was the night bus. When Harry had looked back across the street the large dog had vanished. He decided that, since at this point he was probably already wanted for use of underaged magic, that he would use a fake name as he paid for his trip to Diagon Alley. Why he chose Neville Longbottom, he couldn't tell you.
The ride was terribly bumpy, and he almost lost his supper more than once before they reached the leaky cauldron where he’d requested to be dropped off. When they arrived he found none other than the minister of magic himself, waiting for him and acting strangely relieved that he wasn't, well, Harry wasn't really sure what the minister was thinking, but it turned out all right as he was to be left practically unsupervised in Diagon Alley for the remainder of the summer. Fudge left with only a strict warning not to stray from the main alley or into muggle London!
And on top of all of that, there was apparently a mass murderer on the loose.
Harry has had his fair share of odd days, but this one was certainly in the running for the strangest, at least because of the sheer quantity of odd events, and all of this had happened after dinner. Tom, the bartender and proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron, had shown Harry to his room. It wasn’t enormous, but it was still larger than his room at the Dursleys. It also had an ensuite bathroom, which harry wandered into.
Harry stared at his reflection, ignoring whatever the mirror was saying about his hair. He always hated how he looked after a few months at the Dursleys, though it wasn't as bad as last year, seeing as he’d escaped nearly a month earlier. His cheeks looked hollow, and he had dark bags under his eyes. His hair was dirty and tangled as the Dursleys limited his showers, only allowing them when Petunia became worried he would dirty the house, or if he began to smell badly enough that they noticed.
Once he was showered and dressed, he flopped down onto the full sized bed. Harry stared wide eyed at the ceiling. What was going on with his magic, and why hadn't he received a flock of underage magic warnings from the ministry? Even a few hours after he'd inflated Marge he was still being racked with occasional bouts of pain, beyond what he'd grown accustomed to over the past week. Why was he losing control? What did this have to do with his thirteenth birthday? He hadn't had any accidental magic since he'd gotten his wand and learned how to control it, was Petunia right, did this happen to every wix?
Also, what had been going on with fudge? The older wizard had been hiding something, Harry just didn’t know what. He puzzled over these thoughts for nearly an hour before sleep finally overcame him.
Harry awoke the next morning to another painful surge of magic. Like the one on his birthday it didn't seem to have a goal, which Harry found strange. He was grateful for what might be the first time however, that the wixen world had yet do discover light bulbs, as he didn't have to tell the barman, Tom, that he'd broken all of his lights.
Once the pain recedes to a tolerable point, he got up and wandered into the bathroom. He looked into the large ornate mirror, the bags under his eyes had somewhat receded since last night and his hair was at least clean now, though his unruly curls still stuck up in all directions. Now that he was clean he could once again see his scar clearly, its large branching lightning shape covers a fair part of his forehead and even crosses his right eyebrow in a few places. as always it looked red and irritated, he did his best to cover it with his bangs.
Once he was ready, he headed down to the dining room to get some breakfast. He was one of the only people there, aside from the bartender Tom.
Harry counted his remaining money as he ate. He would need to make a withdrawal before he could buy his supplies for the year. He realises with increasing anxiety that he doesn't have his vault key, as Dumbledore had insisted that he would hold on to it to ensure Harry didn't misplace it by mistake. At the time, he’d appreciated the thought, though he didn’t think it necessary, but now he was kicking himself. He didn't even know who had it. Last time he’d seen it, Mrs Weasley had it. Hopefully, she would have it when he met the Weasleys for school shopping. If she didn’t, he’d have to buy everything second hand, and he wasn't sure how much that would be. He would have to be careful not to spend too much before then. He was grateful that the ministry had paid for his meals for the duration of his stay. If they hadn’t, he would have run out of money weeks before he went back to school.
After he'd finished breakfast, he approached the old bartender;
"Sir, I was wondering if maybe you could answer a question that's been bothering me? If you don't mind, if your too busy I totally understand-" Tom cut him of by holding his hand up, signalling harry to stop talking.
"I don't mind young man, what's your question" He replied kindly.
"Oh," Harry paused not really having expected the old man to humour him, "Did you, or rather, do all witches and wizards have accidental magic after they turn thirteen?" Harry shuffled his feet nervously.
"Oh yes, that happens to all wix to varying degrees, didn't you know that?" the old bar-man seemed genuinely surprised.
"Oh, I-" Harry stumbled over his words, "No, I didn't"
"No worries young Harry, I'd imagine it must have been a might alarming without knowing, eh?" he smiled at Harry, clearly trying to make him feel better, it wasn't really working. Harry just nodded.
"Is it supposed to hurt?" Harry asked. Toms eyes widened in alarm;
"Merlin, no, did it hurt for you boy?" The old wizard seemed alarmed.
"No," Harry answered hurriedly, he didn't want to be a freak in the wixen world as well as the muggle world, "It was just a stupid question, I'm sorry."
He left quickly deciding to head out and explore the alley. In the past, he'd only ever been there with Hagrid or the Weasleys, and while he and Ron had been allowed a bit of time to browse the previous year, they had still been in a bit of a rush to get their supplies and get home.
Now Harry had all the time he could want to explore.
Harry spent the next few days exploring Diagon Alley, avoiding Tom the bar-man, and doing his homework at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where he often received help from the proprietor himself. Mr Fortescue was, apparently quite the history buff. He also gave Harry free ice cream almost constantly, which he greatly appreciated considering his rapidly dwindling supply of money.
While exploring, he ran across quite a few shops that he'd never been in before. Some seemed more dull than one of Professor Binn’s lectures, but most were fascinating.
He found a shop that sold charms and amulets, one that sold records and record players that had been enchanted to work without electricity, and even a Shop that made and sold magical prosthetics. He also bought Hedwig some owl treats and fed her quite a few more than he probably should have, but he felt horrible about how little he was able to feed her when they were at the Dursleys’.
On the third day in the Alley, he found a shop called Mr Zimo’s Incredible Inks, where he found ink that you can key to your magical signature, though he’s not sure what a ‘magical signature’ is. Once you ‘key it to your magical signature’, only you can read it. He didn't get it as he didn't see himself having a use for it, but he thought it was rather cool. Mr Zimo, who was an elderly Chinese man who dressed as if he belonged in one of Dudley's untouched history textbooks rather than 1993, had all sorts of inks. He kindly informed Harry when he entered that he made nearly half of the varieties that he sold, and that all of the inks he sold came in unbreakable bottles.
Harry spent nearly an hour in that shop and ended up buying three bottles of an ink that, when you wrote over a word with it the new word replaced the old one, the three bottles were three of his remaining four galleons but he knew Ron and Hermione would appreciate it as much as he would for writing essays and Ron would never be able to afford it on his own. He hoped that in also buying some for Hermione he could keep Ron from rejecting the gift, though Harry still made sure there was no price on the bottle.
It was only hours after he left the shop that he remembered that if Mrs Weasley didn't have his key, he would only have what he had in his pouch for school supplies. Maybe if he didn’t have enough, Hagrid would be willing to do some shopping for him.
It was on the fourth day that he finished checking out any shops in the main alley that caught his fancy, and began feeling extremely bored. He wasn't sure why they didn't want him leaving the main alley, as all of the other streets, with the exception of Knocturn Alley, seemed quite normal, but he managed to hold out a whole day longer before he broke and began exploring the many winding side streets of the Diagon Alley shopping district, which he had discovered was what the entire magical part of London was called.
The first alley he wandered down was Caizu Alley, where he found a cosy bookstore which also served tea in a small cafe in the back. More interestingly, near where the alley let out was a large outdoor market, it was full of wixen bustling this way and that, buying fresh produce, dairy and meat. There was even an entire section that was just a fish market. It was while he strolled through this area that he realised that a lot of these ingredients you just couldn't get fresh in England, or he supposed Muggles couldn’t. He was pretty sure some of these species weren't even known to Muggle science, as he saw what appeared to be a shark-sized rainbow trout. It was while in this fish market section that he ran into Hannah Abbot, literally. He had been so busy looking at a tank of glowing crabs, that he'd walked right into her. He quickly helped her to her feet, as they'd both fallen.
"I'm so sorry Abbot, I wasn't watching where I was going" He apologized.
"Oh, no worries, I fall all the time, my mum says I never watch where I'm going," she laughed in a good natured sort of way, "who are you here with? I'm here with my mum." She smiled. Harry froze, he'd sort of forgotten that most thirteen year olds don't just wander around the wixen equivalent of a grocery store alone.
"Oh, right, no, I'm here by myself," he muttered, somewhat embarrassed.
"Why?" Abbot seemed absolutely confused.
"Well," He explained, "I've never been to a wixen market before so i was just exploring, like, those crabs," He pointed to the glowing crabs that he'd been staring at when he ran into her, "I've never seen anything like them before, do you eat them, are they potion ingredients?" Abbot giggled.
"Those are star crabs, you've never had them before?" She asked, seeming surprised. Harry shook his head.
"But they're always served at the Sabbat celebrations?"
"I've never been to one," He decided to leave out the fact that he didn't know what a Sabbat was, she seemed a bit worked up already. To his surprise it was her mother that spoke up next;
"How could that be, why wouldn't your guardians celebrate the turning of the wheel with you?" She seemed almost offended.
"I'm not sure, I really have to go, it was good seeing you Abbot," he called over his shoulder as he hurried away, he wondered if that was some pure-blood thing, though he thought Abbot was a half-blood so he didn't know why she would care about that kind of stuff. He decided not to worry about it and continued exploring.
He found even more wonderful things as he wandered into the produce section. There was a wizard selling fruit preserves who was loudly boasting that he made the best dirigible plum jam you’d ever taste. Harry had never had dirigible plum jam, but he had to admit the free sample he’d tried was quite good. There was even a witch selling giant isopods, which Harry found slightly unsettling.
At the back of the market, he found a few actual brick-and-mortar shops selling cooking supplies, as well as a very good-smelling bakery, where he bought a sausage roll for lunch.
On the far side of the market from Caizu Alley, on Mystik Alley, was the largest library Harry had ever seen. Harry decided he would have a look around the library, after all, he still had a bit of homework that it might help with. He wondered if Hermione knew that there was a library in Diagon Alley and resolved to write her about it that night. He entered the enormous double doors and shuffled up to the desk, where a young woman with curly blond hair sat shuffling books about. When she finally noticed him, she looked up and smiled.
“Wha’ can’e do fer ye’ today, lad?” She spoke in a Scottish brogue that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall, though the young woman seemed much less uptight than his head of house, with her long curls heaped atop her head in a loose bun with a few curls tumbling down and framing her face.
“Well,” Harry started feeling unusual in a library without Hermione, “I’ve never been here before, so I wasn't sure what the rules are.” She smiled warmly at him.
“Well, first we ‘ave te get ye’ a library card, so I’ll need a bit o’ information, is tha’ all right lad?” Harry nodded, and she continued.“All righty then, firs’ thing, wha's yer name?”
“Oh, uh,” He hesitated, ”Harry, Harry Potter.” To his surprise, the young woman only looked surprised before her expression changed to a look of confusion, or maybe concern.
“Aren't ye thirteen?” Her eyes scanned him from behind her large, round glasses. Harry was rather taken aback. It was just such an odd question. Sure, he was a bit small for his age, but it surely wasn't that bad.
“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”
“Ye’re jus’,” she trailed off, searching for the right words, “I thought ye’ weren' even ‘ogwarts age when ye came in.” She said, seeming slightly embarrassed by her mistake. Harry, on the other hand, was processing the fact that this woman had thought him no more than ten years old. After that, they rather awkwardly got through the rest of the questions, and she explained that there were certain sections which he would have to ask a staff member to accompany him into, but as he progressed through school, more of the library would be accessible to him without an adult. She made it quite clear that he was allowed to look at whatever books he wished; they just had that requirement for his safety, as some of the books could be dangerous. Finally, they came to the last question.
“Do ye ‘ave any Magical Abili’ies?” she asked, still looking down at the scroll she had been writing his answers on. Harry hesitated. He didn't know if Parseltongue was the kind of thing she was asking about, but even if it was, he was hesitant to share that particular fact with a stranger, however kind she may seem. Apparently, he’d hesitated too long, as she looked up, a slightly confused look on her face, but when she saw whatever look he had on his own face, her expression softened into one of empathy.
“Wha’ever i’ is, I promise I won' judge ye’ laddie.” Harry wasn’t sure he believed her, but he figured he should be honest anyways.
“Does Parseltongue count?” He asked nervously. She started in surprise a bit, but then quickly smiled.
“Aye, i’ does. Do ye ‘ave Parsel Magic as well then?” Harry honestly had never heard of Parsel Magic before, so he told her as much. She just smiled and explained that it was the ability to cast unique spells in Parseltongue.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so, but I've never tried.” The young librarian just smiled and told him that if he found out he could, to let whoever was at the desk know so that they could update his card. She then informed them that they had a small collection of Parseltongue books and scrolls that he was free to look at, as none of them were cursed. He thought he probably shouldn't, after all, Dumbledore had said that his Parseltongue was dark magic left behind by Voldemort.
Finally, she handed him a small brass plate about three centimetres long with all of his information very small on it, and told him to clip it to his shirt whenever he was in the library, and it would vibrate to let him know if he was entering a section he needed an adult for.
Harry thanked her, and after fetching his schoolwork from his room at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry ended up spending most of the remainder of his day revising his various essays with information he found in the library.
It was the next day when he decided to explore Reag Alley. It was quite early, so the rather posh seeming street was mostly vacant. It seemed to be mostly high-end shops; There was an expensive looking shoe store boasting that they never sourced their dragon hide from poachers. There was a stationary shop that had a display of what looked like phoenix feather quills, though Harry couldn't fathom what someone could possibly need a quill that fancy for. Even Lockheart had stopped at a peacock feather quill.
It was while he was pondering whether or not to go inside to ask the shop keep What kind of person actually bought phoenix feather quills, that he heard it;
“What?” a jeering male voice cut through Harry's pondering. “ Are you gonna cry?” Harry felt a pang of irritation. The guy sounded like a bully. Harry hated bullies, when he was at Privet Drive there was nothing he could do to stop Dudley and his gang from hurting him or other children, he was too small, and he wasn’t allowed to use magic. He began making his way towards the commotion. In the Muggle world no one cared who he was, but here he was someone. He still couldn’t use magic, though the frequent bursts of painful accidental magic had continued, but maybe he could help.
“Just leave me alone,” a new voice, female and younger sounding, responded, shaking with barely concealed emotion, “I haven’t done anything to you.” The man started laughing, an ugly, mocking sound, just as Harry rounded a bend, allowing him to see the two wixen. There was a young man who had a handful of a girl's cloak, which he was using to hold her against a wall. In his other hand, he held a green and silver scarf. The girl, who looked to be about Harry’s age, was pale with long, honey blonde hair and large blue-green eyes, that were in fact, glistening with unshed tears.
“Sure you did,” The young wizard sneered, “you were here.” The young wizard was tall and broad shouldered. He had shaggy brown hair, and his icy blue eyes held rage that seemed unsuited to his target. Harry felt a wave of nausea roll over him when he realised he recognised him. He was a Gryffindor in Percy and Oliver’s year, a seventh year. He’d never exchanged more than pleasantries with him, but he was pretty sure his name was something Golding, Mason maybe?
“Golding, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Golding turned towards him, alarmed, before he seemed to recognise Harry, and just shrugged, smirking in a conspiratory sort of way.
“She’s a snake," he drawled, turning back to the girl with a menacing sneer, ”I was reminding her that that isn't something to be proud of.” He shook the scarf as if to illustrate his point.
“What is wrong with you?” Harry snapped. He had finally placed the girl. Her name was Daphne Greengrass, she was in his year at Hogwarts, but that only made him angrier. Greengrass was one of the only Slytherins who never made fun of the Gryffindors. Hell, she never even laughed when the others did. He could feel his magic raging inside him, trying to break out. Golding looked shocked at Harry’s outburst, but Harry wasn’t done. “She’s thirteen, you're practically an adult!” Harry nearly shouted, his magic was practically bleeding out of him now, it hurt. It felt like something was trying to cram his magic back inside of him. The older Gryffindor seemed to sense the angry magic radiating off of Harry, taking a step back but continued anyways;
“She's a Slytherin Potter, she's just a Death Eater freak-” Golding didn't get to finish saying whatever he had planed, as the street light above him shattered, showering him in glass. The older Gryffindor dropped the Slytherin scarf as he stumbled backwards away from Harry and fled, Looking unsettled. Hearing him call her a freak had broken what little control Harry had left. He watched Golding flee, his own body racked with the now familiar pain of his accidental magic, he was rather proud of his lack of reaction to the pain. Once Golding was far enough away that Harry wasn’t worried about him changing his mind and returning, he turned to Greengrass, who was putting her scarf back into a shopping bag he hadn’t noticed before.
“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at a bad scrape on her elbow.
“Yes. I’ll be fine, thank you,” She looked up from her arm, seeming to nervously consider something before reaching out her hand, “my name is Daphne Greengrass. It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.” Harry hesitated, this girl was a Slytherin, but he’d never seen her do anything unsavoury, so he smiled and shook her hand.
“Harry Potter,” She smiled at his rather obvious response and then pulled out her wand, quickly cleaning and covering her wound. Harry stepped back, alarmed.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, looking around for the inevitable owl, “ you're going to get in trouble!” Greengrass gave him a look as though she thought he was rather slow.
“That, is less likely than you getting in trouble for your little show, The Ministry can't enforce the trace in Diagon,” She explained, “there's too much ambient magic.” Harry blushed at her rather pointed explanation, but rather thought that would have been nice to know when he’d first gotten to Diagon Alley, but it would still be incredibly useful.
“Unless you're so obnoxious about it that someone reports you,” She added giving him an exasperated look that reminded him of reminded him of Hermione, if a bit more proper.
“What on earth are you wearing?” He was pulled from his musings by Greengrass’ outburst as she looked him up and down, appalled. Harry looked down at himself, at his red Converse with duct tape holding them together, his ratty jeans barely being held up by a spare piece of cord that he’d nicked from a lost and found bin, and an oversized tee shirt that was once white and blue but was so stained by Dudley's messy eating that it was more of a tan and brown at this point.
“Oh,” he grimaced,” they’re hand-me-downs, they used to be my cousin’s.”
“Why don’t you buy some new clothes?” She asked, looking genuinely distressed by his state of dress.
“Well, whenever someone brings me school shopping, I'm told that I should only get the essentials,” he explained, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
“Shoes without holes and clothes that fit are essentials,” Greengrass insisted.
“I suppose, but I don't have enough galleons for clothes and my school supplies left.” Really, he didn't have enough for even his school supplies, but he was planning on getting some money out when the Weasleys arrived, as Mrs Weasley would hopefully have his key. But he wouldn't want to go on a shopping spree with the Weasleys, it seemed rude.
“Aren’t you rich?” she questioned, looking at him like he was an idiot.
“Well, technically maybe, but I only have what's in my pouch,” Harry held up his nearly empty pouch to illustrate. Greengrass scrunched her eyebrows together slightly as though trying to solve a tricky puzzle.
“Why don't you have access to your vault?”
“Oh, because Dumbledore was worried I’d lose my key or something, so he has it,” He shrugged, but her look only grew more serious.
“What about your heir ring? That should be more than sufficient.” Now it was Harry's turn to look confused.
“What’s an air ring?” Greengrass looked rather alarmed.
“Your Heir ring? The ring that shows that you're the Heir to the House of Potter?”
Harry shook his head, “I’m not an Heir to any house, I have one vault full of gold, that's it.” Greengrass looked Shaken.
“Morgana, you really don't know,” she stood up straighter, “you, Harry Potter, are the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter,” she shook her head in disbelief.
“The goblins must be losing their minds, you have to go accept your heirship before they decide to come find you,” she grabbed Harry's hand and began dragging the confused boy behind her towards Gringotts.
“Why didn't you claim it when you turned seven?”
“I didn’t even know I was a wizard until I got my letter,” Harry explained. That stopped her in her tracks. She spun around, looking horrified.
“But you're Harry Potter,” she squeaked.
Harry shrugged, “I was raised by my Muggle relatives, who hate magic. They didn't even want to let me go to Hogwarts.”
“You mean you had never even heard about magic until a professor came to get you?” She looked appalled but resumed her march down Diagon Alley. “Why didn't the professor take you to accept your heirship? They should know better!” she complained to no one in particular.
“Well,” Harry explained,” it was Hagrid who took me to Diagon, and I doubt he knows much about that stuff.”
“I can't believe they had Hagrid introduce you to the Wixen world,” she scoffed. Harry pulled his arm out of her grasp, causing her to turn around, confused.
”There's nothing wrong with Hagrid, he's a great man!” he glared at her.
“Oh! No, that's not what I meant. I have nothing against Hagrid. It's just . . .Well. . .” she paused, and Harry realised what she was thinking.
“He's not always the quickest?” Harry asked, understanding what she meant. Hagrid was by no means dumb, but he was slow on the uptake and simply didn't know a lot of things.
She nodded, looking slightly guilty, “he just, . . . he's not all that well versed in the Wixen culture. He's spent basically his whole life at Hogwarts.” Harry nodded.
"Well, that at least explains why you didn't know about ambient interference," she added.
"Ambient what?"
"The fact that the ambient magic in high magic places like Diagon Alley or ancestral homes blocks the ministry trace," she explained patiently, "By the way, how did you do that with the light, I've never seen someone our age use wandless magic before."
"Oh, I just turned thirteen, its just that thing," Harry really hoped that sounded even remotely intelligent, considering he had no idea what apparently happened on every wix's thirteenth birthday.
"Isn't your birthday in July?" she raised an eyebrow septically. He nods.
"You shouldn't still be having accidental magic this long after your core expands," she tells him seriously.
"My what?" he asked, having completely abandoned all hope of sounding like he knew what he's talking about. She stoped again this time to stare at him in disbelief.
"Nope," she shook her head, "we don't have time for this, you'll have to ask your account manager about it." she decided, seeming slightly frazzled. She began pulling him towards Gringotts again until finally they stoped in front of Gringotts and she began leading him inside. She bowed her head slightly to the goblin guards at the door. Harry quickly mimicked the gesture before following her inside. She quickly walked up to one of the goblin bankers and waited to be acknowledged. When she was, she spoke with confidence.
“Master Gracnog, may your enemies fall swiftly to your blade, and your coffers overflow with gold.”
The goblin, Gracnog, he supposed, grinned quite the menacing grin, but Harry supposed that must just be how goblins smile because he responded;
“And may the blood of your enemies run like a river as with your gold heiress Greengrass,” he says with a slight incline of his head mirroring Greengrass’. She turned to Harry, gesturing for him to do the same. Hesitantly, Harry did his best to emulate the strange style of greeting.
“M-may your gold flow like the blood of your enemies,” he nodded before quickly adding, “Master Gracnog.”
The goblin raised one rather bushy eyebrow before nodding slightly.
"And yours, young man," the Goblin gave a nearly imperceptible head nod, "may I ask your name?”
“Oh,” Harry felt his face flush at his omission, “ Harry, Harry Potter.” Gracnog raised both eyebrows this time.
“What can I help you two with today?”
Greengrass looked to Harry before sighing when he doesn't respond.
“He’s here to claim his heirship,” she glanced at the large clock before grimacing, “I apologise,” she looked at Harry and the goblin, “I really must be going, good luck, Potter,” she turns and nodded to Gracnog before quickly making her way towards one of the fireplaces, but stoped a few paces away and turned back to Harry.
“And do get some new shoes at least.” Then she turned and continued to the fireplace flooing away.
Harry turned uncertainly to Gracnog, who glared at him for a long moment.
“If you'll follow me, I'll bring you to Steel Claw, the Potter family's account manager, he's been trying to reach you for nearly six years now and is quite unhappy with your lack of response,” he smirked as he said the last part. Harry swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
He followed Gracnog through a series of winding corridors, which he quickly lost track of. Eventually, they reached a large pair of double doors with a gold placard written in a language Harry couldn’t read. Gracnog gave him a rather menacing smirk as he held open the door and gestured for Harry to enter.