Chapter 2
Harry woke to Hedwig hooting throatily at him. He smiled at the familiar morning ritual as he reached for his glasses. He groped around in the grey dark of early morning and succeeded in knocking his glasses to the floor. He cursed the morning ritual as he grabbed his glasses off the floor and put them on.
As the world came into slightly blurry view, Harry leaned over and groaned as he rubbed his forehead, tracing his reddened scar. His stomach rumbled hungrily and Harry remembered that dinner hadn't stayed down and reluctantly got to his feet.
"Did you happen to catch the license on that hippogriff?" Harry asked around a yawn, refusing to give into the lingering pain in his scar.
Hedwig hooted wryly and Harry chuckled. Uncaring this early in the morning, Harry grabbed the first available clothes, even if they were the rattiest at his disposal, and slung them over his arm. He ran a hand through his hair and trudged wearily into the bathroom across the hall to get ready for the day.
A long hot shower and a quick shave later, Harry was standing in front of the slowly defogging mirror trying to wandlessly charm his hair to lie flat, though he'd settle for not as messy. His unruly hair was already doing the infamous Potter thing and had sprung up all over the place. A half a dozen unsuccessful attempts later, Harry growled in frustration.
"Stupid bloody hair!" he cursed, turning away to grab the first garment in the stack of clothes he brought in with him.
"Now, now," the mirror tut-tutted. "You're hair is lovely, duckie."
"Well you'd be the first mirror to say so," Harry replied, his voice muffled by the shirt he was pulling his arms and head through.
"Trust me, duckie, it's roguishly handsome. The girls will like it," the mirror said knowingly.
Harry shook his head and pulled on his pants, wrinkling his nose at the inches of bare ankles that showed. He was going to have to learn some tailoring charms if he was ever going to look like something other than a rag-a-muffin. Either that or ask his parents for new clothes from Madam Malkins, which was about as likely to happen as Ron's beloved Chudley Cannons winning the tourney.
Leaving the bathroom, Harry saw that the sky was pinking up, which meant that it was getting close to the time his mother would be rising from bed. Harry decided to go downstairs and prepare breakfast for himself, knowing that James and Daniel would eat ridiculously large stacks of pancakes and that fighting for any was risking one's limbs. First though, he put on a pair of tatty socks and fetched Hedwig.
Downstairs, Harry and Hedwig separated in the kitchen. Harry grabbed a bowl and a frying pan and set about finding the ingredients to make himself his own stack of pancakes. Hedwig fluttered up to the top of the charmed ice box and watched him make breakfast.
Harry single-handedly cracked two eggs into a bowl and carefully mixed in a cup of flour and cream. Next he put in a tablespoonful of sugar and a teaspoon of baking powder before adding a pinch of salt and a pint of cold milk. Whipping it together into a runny batter, Harry also melted a little butter into the frying pan in preparation. With a grin of satisfaction, Harry pushed his glasses more firmly up his nose and started pouring himself his first pancake.
Less than ten minutes later, Harry had himself a small stack of English pancakes with powdered sugar coating the top of them. He poured himself a glass of milk and Hedwig a small bowl of water and sat down. Hedwig flew over and sat on the back of a chair opposite of Harry. She took a few sips of water as Harry cut up a pancake for her on a separate plate and handed it over.
Hooting appreciatively, Hedwig nibbled on her warm pancake as Harry liberally coated his own with maple syrup and dug in hungrily. The only sound to be heard was a hungry boy and hungry pet eating pancakes. When they were done, Harry stood up and took their dishes to the sink where he washed them carefully and placed them on the drying rack.
"What should we do today, Hedwig?" Harry asked his snowy owl as they made their way back upstairs and stepped into his room.
Hedwig took off from his shoulder and resumed her usual perch on his dresser in the corner. She cooed contentedly and puffed up her chest and began preening her feathers. Harry laughed as he considered his owl, she was so vain, she made Parvati and Lavender from Gryffindor look humble, but she was not nearly as bad as Draco Malfoy from Slytherin.
"Guess no time like the present to finish reading that book from yesterday," Harry said with a laugh at Hedwig's antics.
They settled in to their usual routines shortly thereafter with Harry being consumed by the magical animagus transformations book and Hedwig with her grooming. It wasn't until sometime later that they were disturbed by James poking his head up into the hall and yelling that they were going to Diagon Alley and to hurry up. Of course, he'd been yelling at Daniel to get him down the stairs so that they could go, but Harry heard.
"Wonder why they're going?" Harry mused aloud as he tugged on his shoes that were a smidge to tight in the toe and grabbed his worn cloak. "They already got him a broom. Maybe school supplies? But that doesn't make any sense, we usually go later so Daniel can hang out with the Weasley's."
Hedwig didn't get a chance to respond because Harry was already gone out of the room and down to the front hallway. There James was helping Lily into a sea-green cloak and making much to do about fastening it at her throat. Neither one greeted him when he came up to them so Harry didn't say anything. Minutes later, Daniel came rushing down the stairs tying a money bag to his belt loops and musing up his hair so that it stuck out more wildly than before.
"Sorry Mum, Dad. I'm ready."
Lily smiled beautifully as she straightened out Daniel's deep green-blue cloak. "Don't worry dear, your father wasn't ready to leave just yet."
At that James coughed and hid a grin behind his hand as Lily turned to glare at him. When her attentions were back on Daniel, James gave an wink that was exaggerated and laced with a promise of future conspiracy. After taking his own cloak from the hall closet and slinging over his arm, James motioned for them to follow him outside.
Lily cast a locking charm and gave it a password before following James and Daniel down the road. Harry, knowing the password because he lingered near the house, quickened his pace in pursuit of the others. It wasn't too long until they reached the Ottery St. Catchpole's Approved Ministry Apparition Site (AMAS) located between the Potter, Lovegood, Weasley, and Patil homes in the forest.
Harry watched in amusement as Daniel's hand latched unto James shoulder for a Side-Along Apparition. With a loud pop , his dad and brother disappeared and with another softer one his mum left leaving Harry all alone in the forest. Harry fingered his Apparition license in his back pocket and with a satisfied smirk, spun around on his heel and Apparated to Diagon Alley.
He reappeared at the AMAS in Diagon Alley located to the right of the Leaky Cauldron entrance. Diagon Alley was bustling with wizards, children, and parents of muggleborns all rushing about taking in the lovely weather London so rarely provided this time of year and shopping for school supplies. Up ahead he could see his parents walking with Daniel towards the large white building that housed the local branch of the goblin bank Gringotts. Deciding that was as good a place as any to start, Harry trialed behind his family.
Upon reaching Gringotts, Harry mounted the steps and mentally reviewed the business goblin etiquette he'd read about in one of books assigned for their O.W.Ls by the History of Magic professor, Professor Binns, who was the most boring professor at Hogwarts despite being a ghost. Palms sweating, Harry rubbed them against his pant leg before opening the massive doors and entering inside the cool building. Everything had to go according to plan if he was going to do this right and getting their respect was half the uphill battle.
So the first thing Harry did inside the massive lobby was scan the teller signs for the right one, the one with the longest beard, and stood in the short line of four. Fidgeting with his pockets and the wadded up paper in his the left one, Harry kept glancing around the bank. His attention would return to the back of the balding man's head in front of him for a few minutes before his attention was caught by those making loud conversation and exclamations in the other lines.
He was relieved when he got his turn at the station, though the goblin sitting behind it looked like he felt anything but relief. Harry bowed his head forward slightly before glancing up and meeting the goblin's gaze. The goblin arched an eyebrow inquiringly, but when Harry didn't break the stare, dutifully inclined his head.
"Welcome to Gringotts, may your riches ever exceed your needs. My name is Lagnort."
"Good day, Lagnort," Harry started, maintaining eye contact. "May our ventures be ever fruitful together. My name is Harry Potter and I have some inquiries about obtaining a new vault. Is there anybody that I could see that could help answer my questions?"
Lagnort sneered down at Harry for a moment and Harry fretted that he got the wording wrong. It was just as he turned to go, feeling like he'd wasted both of their times, that Lagnort called out. A goblin detached himself from the queue of waiting goblins to show the account owners to their vaults and scurried over.
"Prigha, show Mr. Potter to our Vault Opener."
"Yes, sir!" Prigha squeaked, and started walking away not giving Harry much of a chance to follow if he didn't run-walk alongside the goblin.
Four minutes later, Harry was sweating lightly and seated on a black cushion bench outside an office. There was a label on the door that read, 'Vault Openings Office,' with 'Mr. Raypirnk' underneath in italics. Harry fiddled with the crumpled up paper for a few minutes before pulling it out and studying the words written nearly illegibly on it by his own hand.
Absorbed in the questions it shocked Harry to hear him be addressed by name. A short well groomed goblin stood before him obscured by his bangs. He shuffled to his feet and bobbed his head in greeting.
"Mr. Raypirnk, thank you for taking the time to meet with me."
"Nonsense," Mr. Raypirnk said with a wave of his hand. "Gringotts always appreciates new gold."
Harry flushed red. "I most likely will not be able to open a vault today or anytime soon. I'm still a Hogwarts student. This upcoming year is seventh year for me."
Instead of looking upset by this news, Mr. Raypirnk visibly brightened and hurriedly ushered Harry into his office. After offering refreshments and a seat, the goblin sat behind his desk and folded his hands over the blotter. He leaned forward eagerly and smiled so that his pointy teeth showed visibly.
Harry licked his lips nervously. "So, umm, what are the requirements and obligations of vault ownership?"
Raypirnk leaned over to the filing cabinet and pulled open the middle drawer. A few minutes spent riffling through the folders, left Harry feeling slightly put out that was until the goblin handed over a medium sized file. Hesitantly, Harry took the file and set it in his lap.
"That should tell you your role as an investor and vault owner in Gringotts. It'll tell you our role and depending upon your account how much interest you earn."
"Minimum initial deposit?" Harry asked curiously, opening the file and glancing through.
"Yes, that too."
Harry nodded, reading the page that he was at a little bit. "What are the standard protections in place on the average vault?"
"Ah, good question, Mr. Potter," Mr. Raypirnk said agreeably and leaned back over to the filing cabinet and pulled out a truly horrendous file but did not hand it over. "This, Mr. Potter," Raypirnk said, patting the file, "is anything you could possibly think of for vault security. It constantly updates itself based upon the work of our curse breakers. Truly remarkable and ingenious ideas are coming in from Egypt at the moment."
"I don't suppose you have a smaller copy or a copy of the file that I could have?"
Mr. Raypirnk shook his head. "Afraid not. When you set up and vault account here with us, we allow you to discern what types of charms and hexes and the like to protect it. We can also make suggestions if you are unsure."
"So there's nothing standard?" Harry asked confused. "You don't use some sort of goblin magic to protect vaults?"
If it was possible, Harry was quite sure the grin Mr. Raypirnk was wearing would have split the goblin's face.
"Yes, we do."
"What are they?"
Mr. Raypirnk reached over and selected a relatively thin file from the upper drawers and handed it over. "Inside you'll find the names of our securities and what they mean. Nothing on how to break it or cast it yourself, not that we'd expect you to be able to being a wizard, but here at Gringotts we take care to protect our customers."
"Who has access, goblin and wizard alike, to the vault besides myself?"
"Any goblin assisting you from the main floor is updated on our register for your vault and has a unique signature. We know who goes in and out of your vault, when, for how long, and what they take with them when they go.
"Then there's the Head of Security, the President of the Bank, and the Managers; each with their own passes that log them in on the register. Wizards? None, except those that you add and get a key issued for their use of your vault."
Harry tilted his head down to look at his paper again. He folded it and smiled, stacking the files given to him neatly. "Why keys?"
"Nasty curse on them if handled by someone with ill intent."
"So someone could pick it up if they meant to turn it in and not use it to gain access to a vault they're not authorized for?"
"Exactly."
Harry laughed, and climbed to his feet. Mr. Raypirnk shook his hand and showed him back to the main floor of the bank. Enormously satisfied with the conversation he'd just finished, Harry exited the building. Back out on the busy alley, Harry made his way towards Knockturn Alley.
He was hoping to browse some of the seedier shops for a few rare books on animagus training, specifically the manuals mentioned from the book he was nearly finished with back home. He was hoping to find the rituals 'Potential For Becoming' and the 'Prepping the Body for the Change' in some of the new books. The others mentioned were not nearly as important being as they dealt with accidents. There were ones such as now-that-your-stuck-mid-transformation, stuck-on-the-reversal-process, and animal-to-wizard mind altering rituals.
It was because of these pamphlets that Harry got to be where he was currently; stuck behind a locked wardrobe at Borgin & Burkes. The shifty proprietor was attempting to smooth-talk Lucius Malfoy into buying one of several items that he'd bought at basement bargain prices for outlandish prices.
"I don't think you understand, Mr. Borgin," Lucius sneered in his oily aristocratic tones. "It is imperative that the cup is in my hands. You can not adequately protect it."
"I'm not trying to protect the cup, Mr. Malfoy," Borgin returned in a dry snide voice. "I am trying to sell it and keep my business running."
Lucius leaned forward so that his sharp nose nearly touched the older man's face. "You would not want to make--" his gaze darted left-to-right before he dropped his voice to a whisper.
Harry was almost sure the name being passed was Voldemort's. His suspicions were confirmed when Mr. Borgin stepped back immediately and looked to be sweating. He fidgeted nervously for several seconds before closing his eyes and taking a calming breath. When he opened his eyes, Harry could still see fear lurking within them but it was masked by his newfound determination.
"If indeed he wants it, he must pay something for it. I am not running a charity nor am I on my own philanthropic. I expect some payment for the object in question. Considering the history of cup in question, I would say it is more than fair to part with it at 25,000 galleons."
"Unbelievable! This is inexcusable-- he is going to be less than pleased with you, Borgin," Malfoy hissed, grabbing his cane and spinning around on his heel.
After Lucius was gone, Harry saw Borgin look about fretfully and mutter something unintelligible. The man paced for a moment and then rushed into the back to do who knows what. Eventually Harry tentatively snuck out from around the wardrobe only to have a hand clasp around his arm tightly. Startled, Harry tried to yank his arm away only to have the hand grip his forearm tighter. Foul breath blew in his face as Mr. Borgin struggled with Harry.
"Well, well, what do we have here? What is the Boy-Who-Lived doing here in my shop?"
"Eavesdropping," Harry said flippantly, managing to regain his captured arm when Borgin let go with a yelp and looked down at his reddened hand.
Borgin looked up calculatingly, his beady eyes narrowing before nodding to himself. "Then you must want the cup for yourself."
Harry paused from his walk to the door at those words and carefully turned around to face the short fat man. "I could not possibly pay 25,000 galleons for a cup."
"How about 25 galleons?" Borgin inquired, stalking back to the case and unlocking the cabinet with a set of keys from his pocket.
"Let me see the cup first," Harry returned casually, hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans. "You might have to throw in some animagus ritual pamphlets in with that price if I'm going to help you out."
"Just take a look at the cup before you go and make assumptions of worth," Borgin retorted somewhat putout.
He then pulled out the small golden cup with rubies running it's circumference and came back to Harry where he proceeded to hand it over. A zing traveled up Harry's arm at contact before fading rapidly. Carefully studying the cup, Harry put on a puzzled frown.
He was unable to see why Voldemort and subsequently Lucius would want the silly little cup. That was until he flipped it over. He raised an eyebrow at the intricate double Hs stamped into the bottom of the cup.
"Helga Hufflepuff?" Harry asked suspiciously, staring hard at Borgin who tried to pass a pleasant smile and nod of affirmation. "Now why would Lucius want to get a cup that may or may not belong to one of the four founders?"
"It's not just a cup, Mr. Potter. Lucius wants it because I believe it to be what is called a Horcrux."
Harry looked up sharply at the term, that was obviously magical, but whose origins he did not know. Wearily, he asked, "What's a Horcrux?"
"Research it," Mr. Borgin said losing his pretense at being affable. "Are you going to take it or not?"
"Are you going to get me my pamphlets to go with the cup? Because if you're not, you're wasting my time."
An ugly look crossed the man's features. His face turned red-purple before fading quickly with an exhalation of breath. "Fine, you measly little runt, I'll toss in the pamphlets."
Harry smirked and palmed the cup up into his sleeve in a great show of slide of hand. He stood there waiting patiently for the darkly muttering Mr. Borgin to return with his pamphlets. They'd been much easier to obtain than he'd expected, considering he thought that he'd have to steal them when he came upon them in the store under the dusty glass cases.
Being mistaken as his brother certainly made things go much easier. Now he didn't have to show wand I.D. to charge the family vaults, where as 'Harry' could not because of the frivolous purchases James thought he'd make. Borgin returned from the far-left back of the shop and with a disgruntled expression handed the animagus leaflets over. A quick glance through the text proved that they were indeed what he was looking for.
"Good. I'll take everything. Charge it to the Potter Vault."
Mr. Borgin looked like he was about to argue the payment plan when Harry gave him a hard stare and the miserable man shrank back with an inaudible grumble.
"I'm going to need you to sign the Gringott's Merchant Receipt Form, Mr. Potter," he finally said with a wince.
Harry did easily, having had practice forging his brother's sloppy signature in the past and left the store whistling a jaunty tune. Nobody accosted him as he left Knockturn Alley and he easily slipped back in amongst the mingling witches and wizards on Diagon Alley enjoying ice cream and window shopping. He made a beeline for Flourish and Blotts to look up Horcruxes, thinking that the real value in the cup was not in it's history but in what it represented.
Several hours later, Harry was beyond frustrated and stalked up to the front counter where the tall reedy man with a mustache handed a mother her daughter's school purchases with a genial smile. The smile faded when the man took in Harry's expression. He tried to replace it back on his face but found he was unable and settled for asking if he could help.
"I bloody well hope so," Harry huffed irritably at the salesman before relenting. "I've been looking for books with references to Horcruxes but you don't seem to have any in your store. It's imperative that I get some as quickly as possible."
A whisper of fear flashed in the tall man's eyes before being snuffed out. This nonverbal response intrigued Harry more so than the tense verbal response the man gave him, which was a terribly bland, "I am terribly sorry, Mr.--?"
"Potter," Harry answered easily, hoping for another case of mistaken identity.
"Mr. Potter," the salesman repeated, "but I'm afraid we don't carry anything about Horcruxes. Haven't since the Ministry ban."
Harry swore and inclined his head in insincere gratitude. "Fine, thank you."
He left Flourish and Blotts, frustrated, but fascinated at the salesman's response to his query. Pondering this, Harry slowly made his way back to the AMAS located by the Leaky Cauldron. It was nearly 4 o'clock now and the day had waned during his running around. He took his time enjoying the last sights, sounds, and smells he'd have of the area until next year.
His last look of the alley allowed him a brief glimpse at Hermione Granger in all her bushy-hair glory exit Madam Malkins with her parents. She seemed to be heading to the bookstore that he'd just come from himself. With a shake of his head, Harry checked the security of his purchases and spun around on his heel and left with a nearly silent pop.