Newfound Wealth

Griphook frowned and reached into the desk, pulling out a rather thick file, flipping through it with expert ease. "Last we checked, it was in the possession of one Albus Dumbledore."

Harry's eyes flashed with recognition. "Dumbledore? Why does he have my key?"

Griphook shook his head. "That, I do not know. Most likely your parents arranged for it to fall into his possession should a certain series of circumstances occur. Nothing can be done about it, except the creation of a new key."

Harry's eyes narrowed in thought. "Have there...been any withdrawals from my vault in the last ten years?"

Griphook quirked an eyebrow. "Which one?"

"I have more than one?"

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, but only one is currently open."

"Which is..."

"The trust fund, set up for your parents."

Harry felt warmth flood his chest. His parents set up a trust fund for him? That was so thoughtful of them. "Well, any withdrawals from that one?"

Griphook scanned the page. "No, none."

Harry nodded, somewhat relieved. "Well, in that case...is there a way to make me a new key without nullifying the old one?"

Griphook's eyes widened in surprise. "I can just make you a copy of the old one."

Harry nodded. "I think that would be best. I...I don't want anyone to know I was here, you see. Which reminds me...any way you can make my visit...off the books, so to speak?"

"That is not a problem, Mr. Potter. Gringotts values the privacy of our customers. Now, please wait here. I will return with your key forthwith."

A moment later, Griphook returned.

"Here you go, Mr. Potter," he said, handing the key over.

"Thank you for your help, Griphook."

"Not a problem, Mr. Potter. Now, would you like to see your vault?"

A grin crept on to Harry's face. "Yes please!"

If Harry loved the Knight Bus, he adored the underground rail system of Gringotts. Now that was a ride. He wanted to do it again, and again, and again...

He wondered if Tom would let him return to Gringotts for the sole purpose of riding the carts again. Probably not, but it was definitely worth a try.

Harry ended up withdrawing 20 galleons and 50 pounds, with which he was provided a nice little black velvet bag. He wasn't sure he'd need the cash anytime soon, but figured it could come in handy. After all, now that he had his own money, he really had no excuse to keep stealing it.

When he and Griphook returned, Tom was already there waiting for him.

"Have you settled your accounts?"

Harry nodded.

"Then let us go. We have much to do," he said, leading Harry toward the exit.

Harry looked over his shoulder with a smile.

"Thank you again!"

Once they reached the outside of the bank, Harry looked up at Tom.

"I like goblins. They're very...efficient."

"That they are."

"Say, Tom, I've been wondering for the last couple of hours..."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why do we need Miss Jenkins for all of this?"

Tom sighed. "There are a couple of reasons. First, a child your age wandering around alone in Diagon Alley is quite suspicious, don't you think?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, I suppose so."

"The other reason is that you would not have been able to access my vault."

"And Miss Jenkins could?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Not quite. I had a number of security measures placed on my vault...certain requirements needed to be met. The first was my wand. Once they had seen it, the next step was a test to verify my magical core."

Harry's eyes widened. "And mine would have interfered with the test?"

"Very good, Harry. That is correct. The last security measure is a parseltongue password."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense." He frowned. "Does this mean you need to possess someone every time you visit your vault?"

Tom nodded. "For now. Why do you think I had Severus brew so much of the Injicio Potion?"

Harry nodded. "I have another question."

"Which is?"

"I've been wondering, how does it feel to have freckles?"

"I think, Harry, that should you ever possess someone with freckles, you will find that you cannot feel them."

"I see. Anyway, where to next?"

"The Daily Prophet's office."

"Um, what's that?"

"Is your mind really that feeble, or were you merely not listening earlier?"

"Ummm..." He must have missed something at some point, probably while he had been enjoying the Knight Bus. Oops.

Tom sighed. "Wizarding Britain's most widely distributed newspaper. Woefully inaccurate at times, but still the best way to acquire an understanding of current events."

It did not take long for Tom and Harry to traverse their next path through Diagon Alley, finding themselves standing below the sign that marked the entrance to The Daily Prophet main office soon after leaving Gringotts. The building was quite tidy, professional looking. It was obvious there was a muffling charm on it somewhere, perhaps in the wards; for though the building seemed quiet and tranquil on the outside, through the windows, Harry could see obvious signs of vivacity.

Whilst Harry stared what seemed to be a very strange place he'd never been anywhere like a newspaper office before, Tom gingerly opened the door and tugged at Harry's wrist, ushering him into the bustling newsroom – reporters were deep in discussions, or otherwise fixated on their papers and quills, and in the back, the editor's shouts could be heard. Harry felt quite out of place, just standing there amidst the buzz, and was a bit dazed as he followed Tom to the main desk.

The man sitting there was dressed in a brown tweed suit - one that was tidy, but obviously not very expensive. The man, Andy Smudgley, if the nameplate was to be believed, didn't notice them standing there, at first.

Harry saw Tom narrow his eyes and glare at the man, clearly holding the Mr. Smudgley's lack of observational skills against him, exuding malice in the way he was so good at.

....

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