Chapter Text
As they navigated the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, James led the way with purposeful strides, his maroon robes swishing with each step, exuding an air of authority that demanded attention. Lily flanked him at his left, her charm on full display as she exchanged pleasantries with passersby, subtly steering conversations to highlight her son. Her smile was warm, her tone honeyed, effortlessly drawing people’s admiration toward Charlie.
Charlie, positioned between his parents, walked with a distinct swagger, his chest puffed out and a smug grin plastered across his face. He revelled in the attention showered upon him by witches and wizards who recognized the Boy Who Lived. Every nod, every whispered acknowledgment, only seemed to bolster his self-assuredness, making him stride even more confidently through the crowd.
Harry, on the other hand, found himself struggling to keep up, forced to wade through the throng of people eager to catch a glimpse of the golden family. Feeling drained and increasingly irritated by the constant jostling, he didn’t hesitate to use his sharp elbows to carve a path through the crowd so he didn’t get lost or trampled on.
His family moved as though they were royalty in this magical world, and while they soaked in the adulation, Harry found himself feeling more like a shadow than a member of the Potter family.
"Alright, Harry," James began, his voice brisk as he kept his pace, not bothering to slow down or even glance back at Harry, who had just managed to latch onto Lily’s outer robe to avoid getting lost. Lily kept shooting him irritated looks but Harry ignored it, trailing a few steps behind. "This is Diagon Alley, where real wizards do their shopping and where you’ll find everything you need for Hogwarts."
Charlie snickered at his wonder-struck look. "You’re going to have to learn fast, Harry. The wizarding world isn’t for the faint-hearted. But then again," he added with a smirk, "it’s not like you’ve got anything to live up to. Not like me, anyway."
Harry barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the braggart, taking in the sights with hungry eyes but feeling more out of place with each passing moment. “What should we start with?”
James sighed with clear impatience. "Basic supplies for you, I suppose. Robes, books, the usual. We’ll be getting a wand for you both as well, though, don’t get your hopes up too much. A wand is for people who have enough magic to channel it through a medium, and frankly, I’m not sure how well you’ll manage. If you don’t find one, don’t worry about it. You can just go back to your muggle world and continue with whatever it is you study there."
“At this point, I would prefer it.” Harry resentfully muttered. No one heard him except Lily, who gave him an odd, pitying look.
“Maybe you should just follow me along and watch how it’s done,” Charlie added. “I’ve been coming here for years. Got everything down to a science.”
Lily nodded in agreement as James and Charlie took the lead in explaining the magical world to him. They prattled on enthusiastically, introducing him to the magical world as they saw it. But as Harry listened, he quickly realised it was their highly biased, almost fanatical view of the world he was supposed to belong to.
According to his family, the magical world was divided into clear-cut categories. Those who wore green ties at Hogwarts? Dark wixen, future criminals, automatically suspect. People who followed a particular religion? Dark wixen, to be watched carefully. Basically anyone who dared to disagree with the Potters' views? Dark wixen, dangerous, untrustworthy. The world they described was black and white, with little room for nuance or difference.
If it were up to the Potters, over half the population of magical Britain would be in prison.
Thank God Aunt Petunia had gotten him those books all those years ago, giving him a much broader understanding of the magical world. How horrible it would have been if he took their opinions as the truth! Harry couldn't help but wonder how the Potters remained so popular when their views were so extreme.
James continued, barely slowing down. “Ollivanders is where you’ll get your wand. And you’ll need a cauldron, basic potions ingredients, books on all the subjects, though don’t strain yourself too much. We know you're new to all this. It’s not like we’re expecting you to be top of your class or anything.”
It might have even been kind to hear if Charlie hadn't laughed at him meanly and their parents didn't reprimand him for it. “Yeah, leave that to me. I’ve already got a head start and everyone knows it.”
Harry tuned out their chattering, instead focusing on the magic singing around the marketplace. Aunt Petunia had described Diagon Alley as hectic and overwhelming, going so far as to have a spa day to soothe her nerves, but Harry thought it was beautiful.
Diagon Alley was a sensory feast, unlike anything Harry had ever seen. The cobblestone streets seemed to hum with energy, leading the eye to shop windows filled with wonders. The shops themselves beckoned customers inside, as the shopkeepers greeted everyone with smiles and grand gestures. Every corner revealed something new and fascinating: a stack of spell books that rearranged themselves on a shelf, a cauldron bubbling over with a strange, iridescent liquid, and a broomstick floating just above the ground as if waiting for someone to mount it.
The noise of chatter, laughter, and the occasional burst of magic added to the lively atmosphere, making Harry’s heart race with excitement. The entire place seemed alive, vibrant with a pulse of its own, drawing him in with a promise of adventure and discovery.
If only he didn’t have to be burdened with the Potters’ presence, Harry would have said it was a splendid way to celebrate his birthday.
"First, we’ll get you both new wands," James began, excitement lighting up his eyes as he looked at Charlie. "We'll have to send your temporary wand back to the Ministry, Charlie. So, we’ll buy you your first official one, and then you can help Harry get his books, robes, and potion kits while we pick up your telescope and pop in for a quick appearance at the inaugural event at The Enchanted Plate," James finished with a wink at Charlie.
“The Enchanted Plate?” Charlie’s face lit up with interest, then quickly morphed into a pout. “Dad, I want to go too.”
James chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, but they’re hosting a special birthday event for the Boy Who Lived! I’ve been told the Weird Sisters have a special set they’ll be playing. Do you want to go today instead and miss your party tomorrow?”
Charlie’s mood instantly brightened, a wide grin spreading across his face. “No! I want the special event! But we’re still holding the yearly party at Potter Manor, right?”
“Of course, we are,” Lily chimed in, her voice affectionate as she brushed back Charlie’s hair. “We are the Potters, after all. The party celebrating your birthday is one of the biggest events of the year. How could we not host it?”
Harry looked on with disbelieving eyes. He had always thought his cousin Dudley — Dudders or Diddikins when Aunt Petunia was in one of her doting moods, much to Dudley’s horror — was a little too spoiled by his parents, though generally well-meaning. But Dudley had nothing on Charlie Potter. Charlie was showered with attention, his every whim indulged as if he were the centre of the universe. The adoration his brother received was in a league of its own.
And that's not to even mention that Harry had still not been wished a happy birthday by his parents.
Lily placed a hand on James’ arm. "But we’re getting a little sidetracked, aren't we? James, honey, we should probably go to Gringotts now."
"Right," James nodded, rubbing his hands together. "Gringotts first. Then, shopping!"
Charlie whooped in glee.
As they approached Gringotts, Harry’s eyes widened in awe at the towering white marble building. The goblin guards at the entrance, with their sharp features and even sharper weapons, made him nervous, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the grand architecture. The gleaming floors and high ceilings inside were unlike anything he had ever seen.
Harry stayed quiet the entire way down to the vault, listening to the echoing conversations of his family. His father’s voice was sharp and commanding as he barked at the goblin to hurry, and Harry couldn’t help but think how different it would have been if Uncle Vernon were there. Vernon would have been all smiles and effusive politeness, charming everyone who had a hand in managing his finances.
But James Potter didn’t seem to care about any of that.
As they made their way deeper into the bank, Harry noticed a scant few witches and wizards who bowed to the goblins, thanking them for their time and service with gratitude and a brief word of thanks. It seemed a rare gesture, but Harry decided to copy them instead of following his father’s rather rude example. It didn’t cost him anything to be polite, after all.
When the goblin leading them introduced himself as Master Griphook, unlike the Potters, Harry made sure to use the honorific and address him with respect, earning himself a raised eyebrow and a leer from said goblin — though it might have been a smile. It was rather hard to tell due to their razor sharp teeth.
“You don’t need to do that, you know. They are meant to serve us. It’s our money that is running their business,” Charlie loudly advised him as he noticed Harry bowing to the goblin at the desk in thanks.
Harry cringed at his brother's careless words and he was pretty sure he heard a low growl of irritation from Griphook. “I just don’t want to be disrespectful,” Harry shrugged, trying to downplay the situation, hoping Charlie would take the hint and stop talking.
The cart ride down was exhilarating, a rush of wind and speed that made Harry’s heart race, and they soon stopped in front of a big vault door. “Griphook, give the boys a charmed bag each. Boys, pick out the amount you’ll need for your shopping. Your mother and I will be heading to the Lord’s primary vault.” James instructed with a dismissive wave, playfully wagging a finger at Charlie, “Don’t go too overboard now, Charlie.”
Charlie’s grin was wide and mischievous. “No promises, Dad.”
As his parents disappeared down another corridor, Harry and Charlie were led to two vault doors standing side by side - one for Charlie, and presumably, one for him. Harry couldn’t help but wonder why he had a separate vault at all, given James’s obvious lack of enthusiasm or effort in making any other accommodations for him. The idea that James might have gone out of his way to create a special vault just for him seemed absurd.
They placed their palm on the door as instructed. “It will finalise your blood right to the vault and ensure no one can access it except you,” Griphook instructed, sounding bored. “The bag has an undetectable extension charm to hold the money. You only need to stick your hand inside and think about how much you want to withdraw it from the bag. Should you wish to retrieve money directly from the vault, you would need the permission of your Lord and it can be keyed into your family ring.”
“My Heir ring is already keyed to my main trust vault,” Charlie dismissed Griphook’s suggestion with a casual wave of his hand.
James hadn’t spoken of getting Harry a family ring.
Once the door drank in their blood, it shone briefly before swinging open. Harry stood frozen at the entrance of the vault, mouth gaping wide, as he stared at the piles and piles of gold inside. It was like something out of a storybook - literal mountains of galleons, sickles, and knuts, glittering in the dim light. Charlie noticed his stunned expression and couldn’t resist laughing. “Welcome to our secondary vault, Harry. I like to call it the fun vault. This is what it means to be a Potter, little bro.”
“What, swimming in gold like Scrooge McDuck?” Harry muttered under his breath, but stayed outside waiting as Charlie eagerly dashed forward, disappearing behind the nearest mountain of galleons.
Once he was sure Charlie was far enough away, he inquired, “Excuse me, Master Griphook, but I’ve only recently found out I have magic. Why do I already have a vault of my own?”
"Every magical member of the Potter family is automatically granted a secondary vault for their schooling years. It is encoded in the Potter family doctrine.”
Ah, that makes more sense than James suddenly doing something nice for him.
He resisted the urge to feel reassured by the wealth surrounding him. It wasn’t really his, after all. It solely depended on James and Lily still considering him part of the Potter family. If they ever decided to cut ties completely, his access to this vault — and everything in it — would be gone in an instant. They had already abandoned him once. Whose to say they won't do it again?
Harry had carefully listened to Master Griphook explaining the money denominations and he walked deeper into the vault, far enough away that he was hidden from view.
Then, with a sense of urgency, he began stuffing handful after handful of coins into his pouch, ensuring a balanced mix of gold, silver, and bronze, more than happy to test out the bottomless feature of this bag.
Who knew when, or if, he would ever again be allowed in here again?