Chapter 6 - Errands
The next morning, Harry Apparated directly onto the steps of the Leaky Cauldron to avoid being seen by any non-magical folk passing by. Momentarily thrown off-balance by the heavy item in the pouch around his neck (the one Hagrid had given him), he quickly righted himself, glancing around nervously to see if anyone had seen a stray elbow or foot slip off the steps into the Muggle area of the street; no one seemed to have noticed him, though.
He was thankfully alone, having managed the night before to convince Ginny that he was not only getting things for her mum, but also wanted to spend some time shopping for Christmas presents for her.
Entering the pub, he was almost immediately noticed, recognized, and engulfed by those witches and wizards present all slapping him heartily on the back, shaking him by the hand, and stammering their thanks over and over. It was the first time Harry had been to Diagon Alley since Voldemort’s defeat, and he had expected this reaction, as embarrassed as he was by it.
After many rather uncomfortable moments receiving the congratulations and good wishes, Harry was a bit relieved when the old barkeep called over to him, “How about a drink, Mr. Potter? On the house, of course.” Tom was holding up a bottle of Firewhiskey to illustrate his point.
Harry, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to get by with refusing said, “Maybe just a small one. Thanks, Tom.” He made his way over to the bar to get it, his admirers following in his wake.
It wasn’t until a good twenty minutes had gone by, a shot of Firewhiskey and two Butterbeers later, that he was finally able to extricate himself from the enthusiastic crowd. With a regretful tone he told them that he had some things he needed to do. Someone in the corner piped up that important as he was, his business had to be something vital to all of Wizardkind. Harry chuckled at that and said, “Actually, I only have to pick up some cleaning potions and things.”
The witches and wizards filling the pub roared with laughter, and Harry realized they thought he was pulling their collective leg. “No, really,” he insisted, “I do have to get some.” His statement was met with more guffaws, and he gave up trying to convince them. With a few last handshakes and a wave, he was gone.
Stepping into the alley he took a deep breath, glad to be alone again, and pulled out his wand. He had soon tapped the correct brick of the barrier separating the courtyard from the hidden magical world beyond.
As the bricks rearranged themselves to reveal their opening into Diagon Alley, Harry blinked in surprise. He stepped through the archway and looked around in amazement. He wasn’t sure if it was the brightly-coloured posters and banners he could see in almost every shop window, the happy bustling of the many shoppers hurrying about their business, the festive-looking flowers arranged around every lamppost, or something else entirely, but the street seemed to shine like never before. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Voldemort’s demise had something to do with the vivid colours, the bright faces of the people thronging the pavement, waving and smiling good-naturedly to one another as they passed, and he stood for a few moments simply enjoying the sight. He soon remembered the nature of his business, though, and with a sigh, made his way through the crowds to his first stop of the morning.
The windows of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes looked much the same as usual, with their whirring, whizzing, elaborately-coloured displays, but Harry felt a sudden jolt of sadness; it was the first time he’d visited the shop since Fred had died. Two years ago when he’d first set eyes on the business, the flashy exhibits in the window had seemed a welcome breath of life in the midst of the atmosphere of fear and uncertainty that had permeated the street back then. Today, amid the more upbeat aura he’d felt when he’d arrived in the road, Fred and George’s shop just made him feel gloomy.
With another sigh, he pushed into the shop, the hidden object around his neck banging against the door as he did so. Business was brisk, as usual, and at first Harry wasn’t able to make out much amid the people crowding the shop. He did see the two dark-haired young witches whose names he could never manage to remember serving customers, but there was no sign of George. As he roamed the aisles, glancing at the new items among those that were familiar to him, he caught sight of Verity, the young blonde assistant he knew well. She was hurriedly re-stocking the Skiving Snackboxes “ apparently still a raging success despite the fact that schools weren’t in session during the summer break “ but looked up at Harry’s approach.
“Mr. Potter!” she cried and he cringed inwardly. As the original financier of the now-thriving enterprise, all the employees knew him by sight and as a sign of respect, insisted on referring to him in such a manner. If truth be told, however, he would much rather that they called him by his first name.
“Verity,” he replied politely, “how are you?”
“Business is great!” she told him brightly and Harry had to agree, the throng of shoppers was certainly testimony to that. The young witch’s hand fluttered abruptly to her lips. It trembled slightly. “Of course,” she went on, her tone much more subdued, “it’s so strange without Mr. Weasley. Not the same at all...” Her voice trailed off and Harry found himself suddenly very interested in the boxes of Nosebleed Nougat on the shelf. He had seen the woman’s eyes fill with tears and had no desire to watch her cry; his own eyes had started to burn and he wasn’t sure he could maintain a suitable level of composure himself if she were to break down in front of him.
Fixing his eyes on a spot just over her left eyebrow, he murmured, “Is George around?”
Verity returned to her boxes grateful, it seemed, for their departure from the previous topic. “Yes,” she said with a small sniff. “He’s in the back. You know the way?”
He nodded and hurried further on down the aisle, anxious to move on. The office was located along the right hand wall, behind one of the display counter/till arrangements. Harry saw that the door was ajar but knocked twice upon it first. When there was no reply, he knocked again, a little louder, and pushed the door open further. George was at the large table he used as a desk, reclining fully in his swivel chair, legs up on the papers and ledgers spread across the table’s surface, apparently deep in thought. George looked up only when Harry called his name.
“Harry, mate! Good to see you,” George said, lifting his legs off the table. “Have I been ignoring you for a while? The girls say it drives them mad, me not answering.”
“No. Just got here,” Harry replied, a little startled at George’s appearance, as he always was when he hadn’t seen him for a while. He wondered if he would ever get fully used to seeing him without an ear. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, no, course not.” He sighed despondently. “Just doing the books. Hard to wrap my head around it though. Fred always used to “” He broke off abruptly and cleared his throat. “But enough about me. What brings you to Diagon Alley? Need some joke supplies for Hogwarts? Anything you want, you know it’s on the house.”
Harry grinned at the offer. “No. Nothing like that. I, erm, I actually had a proposition for you.”
George sat up a little straighter, his eyes intent on Harry. “What sort of proposition?” he asked, and Harry could tell that his interest was piqued.
“I was going to ask Ron but then we’d probably have to tell the girls and it’s supposed to be a surprise and they’d be worried it was dangerous. I couldn’t ask Bill, of course, wouldn’t want him to lose his job or anything, especially with a baby on the way. So then I“”
“Harry,” George cut in impatiently. “Out with it. I do have to cash out in six hours.”
Harry grinned again, sheepishly this time, realizing he had been prattling. “Sorry. Well, the thing is, I need gold.”
“Gold.”
“Yeah,” Harry confirmed, and began to explain his plan.
When he had drawn to a close he was surprised to see George rubbing his hands together briskly, his eyes brighter than Harry had seen them for ages. “Right,” George said, springing to his feet, “I reckon we could be in for a spot of trouble, then? Bit of duelling perhaps?”
Harry marvelled at the positively gleeful tone. “Well, it probably won’t come to that ...” he said, also getting to his feet.
George slapped him heartily on the back. “We can always hope, mate, we can always hope.”
Harry eyed him curiously. “You always been this reckless?”
George laughed. “Oh, come on, Harry, cut a bloke some slack. Just want to feel useful.”
They headed for the door that led into the shop. “Well, in that case,” Harry muttered ruefully as he held the door wide for the other man to pass through first, “the next bit will have you feeling downright indispensable.”
George paused on the threshold, his brow creased in confusion.
“If this doesn’t work,” Harry explained, “I’m going to need to borrow a whole pile of gold.”
“A pile of gold,” George repeated doubtfully. “For paying Mum back for your school things and to do her shopping?”
Harry chuckled. “Not exactly ...”
George must have sensed his reluctance. “Come off it, Harry,” he chided, “if you’re expecting me to part with a great deal of my hard-earned Galleons ...”
Harry sighed resignedly and followed George through the shop. “I’ll tell you on the way,” he conceded.
************
It was only a few minutes later that the two of them were staring up at the impressive white building that was Gringotts. Harry’s stomach clenched horribly and he wondered why he’d bothered having three servings of eggs and bacon that morning. They weren’t playing nicely with the drinks he’d consumed at the pub.
He hadn’t been anywhere near the bank since he, Ron, and Hermione had talked Griphook into helping them break in; he was not at all sure of the reception he would receive. A rough guess, though, was that it would be nothing like the one he’d gotten at the Leaky Cauldron.
George nudged his arm. “Ready, then?”
Harry nodded dully. Reaching for Hagrid’s pouch, still around his neck, he pulled it open, drew out a set of black robes, and quickly donned them, feeling more comfortable conducting business at Wizarding establishments with them on. He smiled at the astonished look on George’s face.
“How the devil did you fit those in there?” he asked.
“Undetectable Expansion Charm,” he explained. “Came in right handy last year. Hermione showed me.”
“So that must be where you’ve got“?”
“Yes,” Harry replied before George could finish the question. He was beginning to feel rather nervous and the less discussion at this point, the better.
George must have noticed for he clamped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “No worries, mate.” He patted the inside pocket of his own magenta robes. “I’ll have you covered.”
Harry smiled again, though weakly this time. “Thanks,” he murmured. Taking a deep breath, he added, “Let’s go.”
They headed up the stone steps together, passing the goblin standing guard outside the bronze doors as swiftly as possible. They’d just made it to the silver doors, Harry quickly averting his eyes from the warning sign upon them, when one of the two goblin sentries standing before those doors wheeled to face Harry, obviously recognizing him. The two wizards shoved their way bodily through the doors anyway, using their height advantage to its fullest.
The one guard must have sounded some sort of alarm, though, because as soon as they stepped into the large hall they found themselves staring into dozens of angry goblin faces, the owners of which were making their way menacingly towards the pair, enclosing them in a large, and sinister, circle of livid creatures. Instinctively, Harry and George moved so that their backs were to one another as they faced their opponents.
“Harry Potter,” one of the goblins snarled, Harry didn’t catch which one, as his eyes were still adjusting to the light inside. “You dare to enter our doors? You dare to return to the place of your villainy and deceit?”
Villainy. That struck a nerve. “Yes,” Harry retorted, firmly, “I dare.”
The goblins surrounding him and George cursed loudly and a few spat on the floor at his reply. “Leave now!” they roared as one, edging closer.
George reached inside his robes for his wand. “No,” Harry muttered, shaking his head at him. “Not now.”
This seemed to surprise the goblins; Harry figured it was because they weren’t used to restraint when they were threatening most wizards or witches. “We know you are armed, wand-carriers,” an old and withered, yet remarkably fierce-looking, goblin standing to Harry’s left informed them. “That makes no difference to us. We have other means of attack even without wands.” He spat out the last word and Harry recalled Griphook telling of the bitterness the goblins felt over the fact that they’d never been allowed to own them. The old goblin’s words seemed to incite his fellows, who moved in closer.
Harry swallowed hard, trying not to think of the ‘other means of attack’ to which the old goblin had alluded . This definitely wasn’t going as well as he had hoped, but he was determined to get what he came for. “I have gold stored here,” he told them. “And I don’t intend to leave until I get it.”
“All monies that belonged to you are now forfeit, Potter,” another goblin from the circle announced. “That is the price of deception and greed.”
Harry shook his head. He was getting tired of this. “Deception?” he barked out. “Greed?” He searched the faces beyond the threatening circle of goblins until he found the one he sought, standing behind the long counter. He had obviously stood up from his counting stool when Harry had entered. Staring at him, Harry spoke to him, and him alone, “You know the reason I did what I did, don’t you Griphook? And you know it had nothing to do with greed. But if they want to hear about deception, why don’t you tell them something about that?”
There were a few muttered exchanges between the goblins at this comment. “Oh, I see,” Harry went on, “didn’t tell them that bit, did you?” He shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Doesn’t matter. Not really. I know why I did what I did. And I don’t regret it. But I did make a promise to you. And unlike some, I keep my word.”
He reached for Hagrid’s pouch. Yanking it from around his neck, he tore open the drawstring, and gripped the handle of the object inside. “And that’s why I brought this ...”
With a flourish, he drew out the Sword of Gryffindor, holding it high above his head, the rubies on the hilt blinking in the lights overhead. The goblins, as one, gasped at the sight.
“I don’t for a second,” Harry continued, “think this is owned by anyone but the worthy individuals who belong to Godric Gryffindor’s house. But, like I said, I made a promise. And today, I keep that promise ...”
Shifting his grip on the Sword, he pointed it toward the floor and rammed it down, hard, into the highly-polished hardwood, where it wobbled back and forth for a few moments before becoming still.
Harry watched it until it had stopped before ordering, “Now give me my gold.”
************
As the little cart hurtled left and right and right again along its track, plunging deeper into the bowels of the bank, Harry mused that his plan had gone as well as could be expected after all. Following his stunt with the Sword the goblins, after overcoming their initial shock, had begun treating him, if not with any affection, at least with a grudging respect. After thanking George and bidding him farewell, Harry had been led through a door by the wrinkled, outspoken goblin and shown to a cart for the trip to his vault. Now, as the rudderless vehicle gathered speed, the old goblin sitting in front of Harry kept stealing sidelong glances at him, prompting Harry eventually to blurt out, warily, “What?”
“You’re not like any wizard I’ve ever met, Harry Potter.”
“Yeah. Heard that before,” Harry replied tiredly.
The old goblin acted as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “You advanced the discourse between our two worlds today.”
Harry was getting a little fed up with being the hero. “I just wanted to get my money ...” he muttered.
The goblin snorted his derision. “That’s as may be, but what you did won’t be soon forgotten.”
When Harry made no reply, the goblin lapsed into silence. Even without further conversation, Harry was grateful when he saw his vault come into view.
He clambered quickly from the cart as soon as it stopped and waited impatiently for his old guide to do the same. Once the door was open, Harry hurried inside, crouched down, and began scooping handful after handful of coins into his money bag. At one point, he sat back on his heels for a few moments, trying to calculate how much he would need for the purchase he was planning. Deciding he would much rather have too much than not enough, he shoved a few more piles into the bag. It was then that he realized he had cleared a sizeable area of the floor and noticed something until then unknown to him: there were more than just bronze, silver, and gold coins within the vault, there were a couple of other objects mixed in with the money.
It made sense that he had never seen the items before, not only had he never taken as many coins as today, but he had also never spent as much time in the vault as he was now doing. He had always tried to shove one or two handfuls of coins into a bag as quickly as possible without letting the Weasleys have too long or too embarrassing a look at his personal stash of gold.
But now, with a good portion of coins in his money bag, he could see three objects: two gold goblets and a necklace. The goblets were so lavish they made Harry wonder if they’d been used at his parents’ wedding; the thought made him smile. The necklace was a silver locket on a fine chain - oval and delicately engraved with curlicues. Although dainty, it looked large enough to hold two decent-sized photographs within, one on each side. Harry realized it must have belonged to his mother. He toyed briefly with the thought of giving it to Ginny but, with a grin, he decided against it, suddenly having a much better idea.
Harry stood, heaving the small bag up after himself, and hurried back to the cart. He had an awful lot of Galleons to exchange before he could go shopping.
************
Harry peered into the third, and last, display case, not seeing what he was looking for. Actually, he wasn’t quite sure what it was he was looking for, but he was convinced he would know it when he saw it.
He was in the only Muggle jewellery store he had managed to find within walking distance of the Leaky Cauldron. It had taken him another twenty-odd minutes to get through the pub again, but that was the price he was willing to pay for finding the object he sought.
The clerk who had condescended to serve him, albeit grudgingly, cleared his throat loudly. “Anything in that one to your liking ... sir?” he murmured, the last word an afterthought, apparently annoyed that his time was being wasted in such a manner. Harry figured he knew the reason for the borderline-rude treatment: he was, after all, an eighteen year old boy dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt. He probably looked like he couldn’t afford anything in the store. It didn’t really bother him. He would get to enjoy the look on the man’s face if he did end up purchasing something.
“No. Don’t think so,” he replied. “Are you sure that’s all there is?”
“Well,” said the clerk, a smug look firmly in place, “there’s one more case...” He waved his hand vaguely towards a small door Harry hadn’t noticed when he’d entered the shop. “Our most,” he dropped his voice to a breathy whisper, “exclusive line ...”
When the clerk made no movement to lead him to it, Harry raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
“Oh. You wish to see it,” the man sneered. It wasn’t a question, and his tone was decidedly snooty. “This way, please ...” he drawled, reminding Harry infuriatingly of Lucius Malfoy. He followed the clerk through the door beside the till and paused after crossing the threshold to allow his eyes to adjust. The ‘exclusive line’ merited a small, yet rather posh, room. The overhead lights were dimmed but the large feature case in the centre was artfully lit, causing the large diamond pieces within to dazzle brilliantly. Harry’s gaze flitted briefly over the pendants and tennis bracelets, chokers and two- or three-carat rings before he saw it. Over to the left, nestled comfortably on its bed of inky-blue velvet, lay the perfect ring; well, almost perfect - the colour wasn’t quite right.
“I’d like to see that one,” he said, pointing. The clerk, if surprised at his choice of one of the more expensive rings in the store, was either too professional, or too bored to do anything but unlock the cabinet and draw out the ring in question. Harry inspected it closely, sure that this was the one. There was still something about the colour, though ...
“Can the stones be changed?” he asked abruptly.
The slightest wrinkle in the clerk’s forehead was the only indication of his disapproval. “Change the stones?” he repeated.
“That’s right. Can you change the diamonds to something else?”
“Sir, you do realize that these are the finest diamonds that“”
“Yes, I know,” Harry interrupted. “They’re lovely. But can you change them?”
“Yee-es.” The drawl was back. “If that is what you wish ... sir.”
“It is.” He pointed to one of the necklaces in the case. “Replace them with stones like that.” Harry dug into his pocket for his money bag. “How much?”
“With those stones?” The clerk’s smug look was once again firmly in place as he announced the price.
“Right, then,” Harry replied, “I’ll take it.” Slowly and deliberately, he began peeling off one fifty pound note after another from his seemingly-endless supply, counting out onto the glass display case the required amount, and thoroughly enjoying the dropped jaw and astonished expression his actions afforded him.
************
It was less than an hour later that Harry was ushered deferentially from the shop, in his hand a small bag holding the boxed ring. He marvelled grimly at what a little money could do to get a little respect from a snotty shop clerk and have a ring altered to his liking within minutes. He shook his head as a wave of distaste washed over him. The man in the store, in Harry’s opinion, was as bad as any Death Eater he’d ever met. With his single-minded greed he was obedient to a soulless, evil master “ in this case money.
Eager to leave the Muggle end of town, he hastened on down the street for a couple of blocks but stopped dead as he saw something that caught his eye in another window. Glancing up and reading the sign, he realised he was standing in front of a bookshop. With a grin, he hurried inside, an idea occurring to him.
************
As Happily Ever After As They're Gonna Get by cjbaggins
Chapter Notes: With the exception of the snotty store clerk (and you can keep him), these characters don't belong to me. They belong to Ms Rowling herself. I hope she doesn't mind me borrowing them for my enjoyment, and hopefully yours!