CHP 2

I'll try to keep chapters from here on out to around 1k words simply because that's a comfortable amount for me to write and edit on my own.

Here's chapter two

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I stopped just before entering. The last time I entered Leaky Cauldron, I was accosted by all manner of people, trying to touch and feel the body of their saviour, the Boy-Who-Lived. Right, I'm insanely recognizable because of my glasses, hair and scar, which also maybe houses the ripped soul of a Dark Lord. Deal with that later.

I don't need my glasses now; my hair can probably be fixed with spit and a rough combing over by hand, worst case scenario, I douse my hair in water and flatten it if it gets too much. Most of the Wizarding World can only recognize me because of my spectacles and scar anyway.

Time for my bargain bin disguise. I tear the sleeves off of my oversized t-shirt and tie it like a bandanna. That's that. Looking at my reflection in a nearby window, it seems to have worked. If you could call looking like a child's attempt at being a homeless rockstar a success. I can only pray and hope this works.

With my heart in my mouth I enter. The pub seems emptier than last time, maybe not many people come in the noon? The pub is clean, no errant stains on the worn wooden floor, old wooden oak furnishings. A fireplace with a chimney attached leading up in one corner. The walls coated in uneven off-white plaster, thin enough in some places that the brickwork can be made out under them. There are old paintings on the wall, some moving, some not. The barman, Tom, was busy cleaning his glasses at his station when I entered. He eyed me suspiciously, lingering on my face to try and remember if he knows me before dismissing the thought and continuing on to the rest of my outfit.

I feel a blush colour my cheeks, with my bandanna and sweaty face, the stains on my shirt working as urban camouflage. Regardless, wizards are known to be eccentric and so he seemed to accept my state of being as something 'normally abnormal' and moved on.

"Welcome to Leaky Cauldron, I'm Tom. How can I help you?" he said.

"Just heading to Diagon now," I declared "I might come back to book a room later though, if you have any free," I add, I needed a place to stay. My stomach rumbled. "And food too."

"Sure, if your parents are fine with it. Don't want no runaway kids getting me in trouble, it'll cost you about 20 Galleons for a day though." Saying so he pointed me to a door leading out.

The backdoor led to a paved alley ending in a wall and barrels placed by it. I remember the series of knocks Hagrid showed me and I hold my breath. The bricks separate and fold in on themselves. A breeze picks up from the entrance and my senses heighten to pick up all they can.

The alley was rubbed down stone pavement, and crooked wonky buildings. It was colourful and no two shops were similar to each other, colour or shape. Small creatures brightly shining flit about from in-between buildings. There were mothers shopping with their children, smartly dressed men and women wearing severe, plain robes walking in a rush to get to their destinations. Unhurried oldies milling about. The alley looked like a fairies' idea of a Victorian era city. A stray breeze brought with it the sharp tang of something acidic, a sweet smell like strawberries and cotton, the smell of old paper and I could hear the low murmuring sound of daily life.

My Six Eyes took this opportunity to break the spell I was under by blaring me with what the magic of the street looked like. Telescopic vision, psychedelic colours, concepts and intents imbued in each magic spell and ward and all else, the auras of the people walking by shouted at me. Each equally trying to grab my attention and screaming to make sure I heard them, not letting me go unless I was snatched away by some other piece of equally raucous information. It was like taking a flashbang to the face.

I reflexively shut my eyes but in the enhanced time of the Eyes, it was agonisingly slow. The reducing field of vision turning down the 'volume.' My eyes shut.

Silence, noise cut out.

It wasn't painful but I could make out a faint buzz in my mind, not an injury but more an overheating. I couldn't cope with all of it at once. If I had a inoculation, or just an idea of what to expect from 'magic sight' I would've been fine, but it was a new sensation and it was a lot. I pull my bandanna over my eyes, squinting even behind them and the feeling was a lot more manageable. No more screaming concepts, just good vision. Really good vision.

Having had enough standing in place and not wanting to draw attention and let more people catch me in my bizarre fashion, I made my way over to Gringotts which was at the end of the alley. I didn't see any guards outside but there was one thoroughly bored wizard standing in dark blue uniform by the entrance inside. I remember coming here last year with Hagrid but I didn't have the time to take in the details with how hurried he was. It looked very similar to the movie set that old me had watched, a large hall, marble flooring, gold linings here and there. Very ostentatious and grand. There weren't many wizards or witches lined up so I walked to a Goblin teller without a line in front of him.

"Hello, I would like to withdraw some money and speak to someone regarding my account here at Gringotts," I requested.

He looked at me suspiciously but didn't comment on my fashion statement before gruffly replying, "Anyone with you child? Have you gotten lost? Do you have the permission?" He didn't seem to believe me.

"I'm an orphan and my parents have left money behind for me in a trust vault. I live in the Muggle world and I don't have any money right now. I would like to get some money both Wizarding and otherwise and buy some food." I stated as earnestly as I could. I was wary of someone finding out I was the Boy-Who-Lived, but that much wouldn't hurt anyone.

He seemed to sense my honesty and was willing to entertain my request. "Alright," he said, "follow the runner inside and you'll meet someone shortly. Don't waste our time with pranks or lies though wizard, or I'll make you regret it." Saying so he turned to side and barked out what seemed a sharp order in their guttural language and summoned another Goblin, this one looking younger than the ones attending the counter.

Without further pleasantries, I followed him to a meeting room and sat on the comfortable couch. The meeting room followed much of the aesthetic of the bank as a whole but had a shorter ceiling height. I spent the next 4 minutes and 15 seconds (didn't need to count) admiring the opulence of the room and just generally enjoying finally sitting on something comfortable and resting on my legs. I did briefly entertain the idea of opening my Six Eyes and getting an idea of what magic was around me, but the Goblin came before I could make that bad decision.

He dressed much the same as the tellers outside, sharp black suit, crisp trousers and a gold monocle. He entered the room and sat opposite me. He seemed irritated or exasperated with having to deal with a child.

"What can I do for you?" he tried to be polite but his tone didn't carry it.

"I have lost my vault key and would like to replace it. Additionally, I would like to be informed on any properties my family held that might be available to me."

"Replacing your vault key will incur additional fees. I will also need the name of your account holder for further information as well as proof you are related to the account holder." Getting into business seemed to get him to open.

"I am Harry Potter." Ah, the skepticism in his eyes was back. I showed him my scar by pulling down the bandanna. While not concrete evidence, it had to be enough to create reasonable doubt, right? He didn't agree and instead seemed to get further exasperated by my attempt.

"And Mr. Potter, did the retrieval function on your key not work?" he asked me like you would a particularly slow dog, "All you need to say is 'I, Harry Potter of House Potter wish my vault key back,' with the right intent and the blood magics inherent to the key would retrieve them. Everyone knows this."

'They do?'

"Unless of course, you are not actually Harry Potter and this is another braindead attempt at robbery. In which case I am fully, legally allowed to apprehend and deliver you to the authorities." He seemed almost ready to fight now, ready to get his payback for having wasted his time. There was a sinister gleam in his eyes. Too bad for you, bucko, I am he.

I said the magic words. The key dropped into my hand.

We both stared at each other for a moment. Regardless of the fact I did not know this apparently common knowledge, I still felt a little silly. The moment passed and he settled back down. With a polite cough we got back to business.

The rest of the meeting was painfully boring. Bank business always is. I got my money and headed to one of the many properties I inherited from my rich as sin family by the coast of Liverpool.

The house was more of a large pier that came with a small cottage. The beach was warded off to Muggles and had basic protection against the elements, I was told, but little else. I only needed a bed right now. My steps were lead and my thoughts sluggish. I have no recollection of reaching my bed, only collapsing in exhaustion.

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