As Harry sat in the room at the Leaky Cauldron that the minister had provided him for the remainder of the summer, he pondered the incredible oddity that his day had become; The first real thing of note had, of course, been his ‘Aunt Marge’s’ presence at the Dursleys, but that had been an enduring struggle for nearly a week by then. In fact, it had been the last night he would've had to put up with her to get his Hogsmeade permission slip signed by Vernon. Unfortunately, it was also the day his patience with the horrid vitriol she spewed about his parents had finally failed, resulting in him inflating her like some kind of nightmarish flesh balloon.

In his continuing rage, along with a healthy dose of fear of Vernon's wrath, Harry had fled the house. Using additional underaged magic to unlock his things from the cupboard. Having figured he was already a fugitive for the burst of accidental, if not entirely unwelcome, magic he’d directed at Marge.

Once he’d finally stopped running, he’d spotted an enormous black dog staring at him from across the street. In his panic, he'd fallen and somehow accidentally called a form of wixen transportation called ‘The Knight Bus’ which arrived with startling speed and a loud bang. Fearing what he was sure was a manhunt out for him, he'd lied and told the conductor his name was ‘Neville Longbottom’ of all things!

The ride had been terribly bumpy, and he'd almost lost his supper more than once before they'd reached the leaky cauldron where he’d requested to be dropped off.

There he'd found none other than the minister of magic himself waiting for him and acting suspiciously relieved that he wasn't, well, Harry wasn't sure what the minister had feared, but it turned out in his favor as he was left practically unsupervised in Diagon Alley for the remainder of the summer with only a strict warning not to stray from the main alley or into muggle London!

And on top of all of that, there was apparently a mass murderer on the loose! After what felt like hours spent lying there contemplating, Harry finally managed to drift off to sleep.

Harry rose before the sun the next day, as was usual for him; Years of being made to wake up by his aunt Petunia had formed a fairly strong habit. He ventured to the small ensuite bathroom in the room to dress and brush his teeth, the mirror told him that he ‘really needed to do something about his awful hair’, as most wixen mirrors tended to when he got too close. After he finished getting ready for the day, he finally headed down to the dining room to get some breakfast. He was mildly surprised that he was one of the only people there, aside from the bartender, Tom. 

Though Harry didn't have to pay for meals, as apparently the ministry had also paid for those, he counted his remaining money as he ate and realised he would need to make a withdrawal before he could buy his supplies for the year. He realised with increasing anxiety that he didn’t have his vault key, as Dumbledore had insisted that he hold on to it, to ensure Harry didn't misplace it by mistake. At the time, he’d appreciated the thought, though he'd thought it unnecessary, but now he was kicking himself; he didn’t even know who had it. Last time he’d seen it, Mrs Weasley’d had it. He hoped she’d have it when he met the Weasleys for school shopping. He should have enough for the rest of the summer. As long as he didn't spend too much, he was used to having no money, so he didn't think it would be a problem.

After he'd finished breakfast, he decided to head out and explore the alley. In the past, he'd only ever been there with Hagrid or the Weasleys, and while he and Ron had been allowed a bit of time to browse the previous year, they had still been in a bit of a rush to get their supplies and get home. 

Now Harry had all the time he could want to explore.

Harry spent the next few days exploring Diagon Alley and doing his homework at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where he often received help from Florean Fortescue himself. Who was, apparently, quite the history buff. Florean also gave Harry free ice cream almost constantly, which was greatly appreciated considering his rapidly dwindling supply of money.

While exploring, he ran across a few shops that he'd never been in that didn't seem dreadfully boring; there were quite a few of those, such as the Daily Prophet’s main office. 

He found a shop that sold charms and amulets, though with his current budget, he couldn't afford the bracelet that warns you when someone is watching you, even though he thought it could come in quite handy. He also bought Hedwig some owl treats and fed her quite a few more than he probably should have, but he felt really bad about how little he was able to feed her when at the Dursleys’. 

On the third day in the Alley, he found a shop called Mr Zimo’s Incredible Inks, where he found ink that you can key to your magical signature, though he isn't entirely sure what that is, but it makes it so that only you can read it. He didn't get it as he didn't see himself having a use for it, but he thought it was rather cool. Mr Zimo, who was an elderly Chinese man who dressed as if he belonged in one of Dudley's untouched history textbooks rather than 1993, had all sorts of inks. He kindly informed Harry when he entered that he made nearly half of the varieties that he sold, and that all of the inks he sold came in unbreakable bottles. 

Harry spent nearly an hour in that shop and ended up buying three bottles of an ink that, when you wrote over a word with it the new word replaced the old one, the three bottles were three of his remaining four gallions but he knew Ron and Hermione would appreciate it as much as he would for writing essays and Ron would never be able to afford it on his own. Since he bought some for Hermione, he hoped Ron wouldn't mind the gift, though Harry still made sure there was no price on the bottle.

It was on the fourth day that he'd finished checking out any shops in the main alley that caught his fancy, and so began feeling bored. He wasn't sure why they didn't want him leaving the main alley, as all of the side streets, with the exception of Knocturn, seemed quite normal, but he managed to hold out a whole day longer before he broke and began exploring the side streets. 

The first alley he wandered down was Caizu Alley, where he found a cosy bookstore which also served tea in a small cafe in the back. More interestingly, near where the alley let out was a large outdoor market, it was full of wixen bustling this way and that buying fresh produce, dairy and meat, there even seemed to be an entire section that was just a fish market. It was while he strolled through this area that he realised that a lot of these ingredients you just couldn't get fresh in England, or he supposed Muggles couldn’t. He was pretty sure some of these species weren't even known to Muggle science, as he saw what appeared to be a shark-sized rainbow trout. He found even more wonderful things as he wandered into the produce section. There was a wizard selling fruit preserves who was loudly boasting that he made the best dirigible plum jam you’d ever taste. Harry had never had dirigible plum jam, but he had to admit the free sample he’d tried was quite good.

There was even a witch selling live chickens!

At the back of the market, he found a few actual brick-and-mortar shops selling cooking supplies, as well as a very good-smelling bakery, where he bought a bagel for lunch.

On the far side of the market from Caizu Alley on Mystik Alley was what was probably the largest library Harry had ever seen. Florean had mentioned that there was a library in Diagon Alley, which he had informed Harry was the name of the entire shopping district as well as the name of the main alley, which Harry thought was rather confusing.

Harry decided he would look around the library, after all, he still had a bit of homework that it might help with. He wondered if Hermione knew that there was a library in Diagon Alley. He entered the enormous double doors and shuffled up to the desk where a rather striking young woman with wild curly red hair sat shuffling books about. When she finally noticed him, she looked up and smiled.

“What can I do for you today, young man?”

“Well,” Harry started feeling unusual in a library without Hermione, “I’ve never been here before, so I wasn't sure what the rules are.” She smiled warmly at him.

“Well, first we have to get you a library card, so I’ll need a bit of information, all right?”

Harry nodded, and she continued.

“Oki-Doki. First thing, what's your name?”

“Oh, uh,” He hesitated, he always hated how people treated him when they realised who he was.”Harry, Harry Potter.” To his surprise, the young woman only looked surprised before her expression changed to a look of confusion, or maybe concern.

“Aren't you thirteen?” Her eyes scanned him from behind her large, round glasses. Harry was rather taken aback; It was just such an odd question. Sure, he was a bit small for his age, but it surely wasn't that bad.

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?” 

“You're just,” she trailed off, searching for the right words, “I thought you weren't even Hogwarts age when you came in.” She said, seeming slightly embarrassed by her mistake. Harry, on the other hand, was processing the fact that this woman had thought him no more than ten years old. After that, they rather awkwardly got through the rest of the questions, and she explained that there were certain sections which he would have to ask a staff member to accompany him into, but as he progressed through school, more of the library would be accessible to him without an adult. She made it quite clear that he was allowed to look at whatever books he wished; They just had that requirement for his safety, as some of the books could be dangerous. Finally, they came to the last question;

“Do you have any Magical Abilities?” She asked, still looking down at the scroll she had been writing his answers on. Harry hesitated; He didn't know if Parseltongue was the kind of thing she was asking about, but even if it was, he was hesitant to share that particular fact with a stranger, however kind she may seem. Apparently, he’d hesitated too long, as she looked up, a slightly confused look on her face, but when she saw whatever look he had on his own face, her expression softened into one of empathy.

“Whatever it is, I promise I won't judge.” Harry wasn’t sure he believed her, but he figured he should be honest anyways.

“Does Parseltongue count?” He asked nervously. She started in surprise a bit, but then quickly smiled.

“Yes, it does. Do you have Parsel Magick as well?” Harry honestly had never heard of Parsel Magic before, so he told her as much. She just smiled and explained that it was the ability to cast unique spells in Parseltongue.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so, but I've never tried.” The young librarian just smiled and told him that if he found out he could, to let whoever was at the desk know so that they could update his card. She then informed them that they had a small collection of Parseltongue books and scrolls that he was free to look at, as none of them were cursed. He thought he probably shouldn't, after all, Dumbledore had said that his Parseltongue was dark magic left behind by Voldemort.

Finally, she handed him a small brass plate about three centimetres long with all of his information very small on it, and told him to clip it to his shirt whenever he was in the library, and it would vibrate to let him know if he was entering a section he needed an adult for. 

Harry thanked her, and after fetching his schoolwork from his room at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry ended up spending most of the remainder of his day revising his various essays with information he found in the library.

It was the next day when he decided to explore Reige Alley. It was quite early, so the rather posh seeming street was mostly vacant. It seemed to be mostly high-end shops; There was an expensive looking shoe store boasting that they never sourced their dragon hide from poachers. There was a stationary shop that had a display of what looked like phoenix feather quills, though Harry couldn't fathom what someone could possibly need a quill that fancy for. Even Lockheart had stopped at a peacock feather quill.

It was while he was pondering whether or not to go inside to ask the shop keep What kind of person actually bought phoenix feather quills that he heard it;

“What?” a jeering male voice cut through Harry's pondering. “ Are you gonna cry?” Harry felt a pang of irritation; the guy sounded like a bully. He began making his way towards the commotion, hoping he could help somehow.

“Just leave me alone,” A new voice, female and young sounding, responded, shaking with barely concealed emotion. “I haven’t done anything to you.” The man started laughing, an ugly, mocking sound,  just as Harry rounded a bend, allowing him to see the two wixen. There was a young man who had a handful of a girl's cloak, which he was using to hold her against a wall. The girl, who looked to be about Harry’s age, was pale with long, honey blonde hair and large blue-green eyes that were, in fact, glistening with unshed tears.

“Who cares?” The young wizard sneered. “Little death eaters like you should know better than to wander out of Knockturn all alone.”Harry felt a wave of nausea roll over him when he realised he recognised the young wizard; He was a Gryffindor in Percy and Oliver’s year, a seventh year. He’d never exchanged more than pleasantries with him, but he was pretty sure his name was something Golding, Mason maybe?

“Golding?” Harry demanded. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” Golding turned towards him with a slight look of fear on his face before he seemed to recognise Harry, and just shrugged, smirking at Harry in a conspiratory sort of way.

“She’s a snake." He drawled, turning back to the girl with a menacing sneer.”I was reminding her where she belongs.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harry snapped. He had finally placed the girl. Her name was Daphne Greengrass. She was in his year at Hogwarts, but that only made him more angry. Greengrass was one of the only Slytherins who never made fun of the Gryffindors. Hell, she never even laughed when the others did. Golding looked shocked and angry at Harry’s outrage, but Harry wasn’t done.

“She’s thirteen, you're practically an adult!” Harry nearly shouted, drawing the attention of one of the few nearby shoppers who had wandered nearer during the brief argument. The older Gryffindor opened his mouth as if to argue, but seemed to think better of it when he saw the older wix nearby and dropped Greengrass rather roughly.

“Traitor!” Golding growled as he stalked past Harry, shoulder-checking him as he went. Once Golding was far enough away that Harry wasn’t worried about him changing his mind and returning, he turned to Greengrass, who was brushing dirt off what he now saw were rather expensive looking robes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at a bad scrape on her elbow.

“Yes. I’ll be fine, thank you.” She looked up from her arm, seeming to consider something before reaching out her hand.

“My name is Daphne Greengrass. It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.”

“Harry Potter.” He smiled quickly, shaking her hand. She smiled at his rather obvious response and then pulled out her wand, quickly cleaning and healing her wound. Harry stepped back, alarmed.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, looking around for the inevitable owl. “ You're going to get in trouble!” Greengrass gave him a look as though she thought he was rather slow.

“The Ministry can't enforce the trace in Diagon.” She explained. “There's too much ambient magic.” Harry rather thought that would have been nice to know when he’d first gotten there, but it would still be incredibly useful.

“Unless you're so obnoxious about it that someone reports you, you’re fine.” Harry smiled; she sort of reminded him of Hermione, if a bit more proper. He was pulled from his musings by Greengrass’s outburst as she looked him up and down.

“What on earth are you wearing?” She gasped, looking rather appalled. Harry looked down at himself at his red Converse with duct tape holding them together, his ratty jeans barely being held up by a spare piece of cord that he’d nicked from a lost and found bin, and an oversized tee shirt that was once white and blue but was so stained by Dudley's messy eating that it was more of a tan and brown at this point.

“Oh.” He grimaced.”They’re hand-me-downs. They used to be my cousins.”

“Why don’t you buy some new clothes?” She asked, looking genuinely distressed by the state of his clothes.

“Well, whenever someone brings me school shopping, I'm told that I should only get the essentials.” He explained, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“Shoes without holes and clothes that fit are essentials!” Greengrass insisted.

“I suppose.” Harry conceded. ”But I don't have enough galleons for clothes and my school supplies left,” he shrugged. Really, he didn't have enough for even his school supplies, but he was planning on getting some money out when the Weasleys arrived, as Mrs Weasley would probably have his key, but he wouldn't want to go on a shopping spree with the Weasleys, it seemed rude.

“Aren’t you rich?” She questioned, looking at him like he was an idiot.

“Well, technically maybe, but I only have what's in my pouch.” Harry held up his nearly empty pouch to illustrate. Greengrass scrunched her eyebrows together slightly as though trying to solve a tricky puzzle.

“Why don't you have access to your vault?”

“Oh, because Dumbledore was worried I’d lose my key or something, so he has it.” He shrugged, but her look only grew more serious.

“What about your heir ring? That should be more than sufficient.” Now it was Harry's turn to look confused.

“What’s an air ring?” Now Greengrass looked rather alarmed.

“Your Heir ring? The ring that shows that you're the Heir to the House of Potter?” Harry shook his head.

“Im not an Heir to any house, I have one vault full of gold. That's it.” Greengrass looked Shaken.

“Morgana. You really don't know.” She shook herself and stood up straighter, “You, Harry Potter, are the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter.” She shook her head in disbelief. 

“The goblins must be losing their minds. You have to go accept your heirship before they decide to come find you.” With this last bit, she grabbed Harry's hand, dragging the confused boy behind her towards Gringotts.

“Why didn't you claim it when you turned seven?”

“I didn’t even know I was a wizard until I got my letter,” Harry explained. That stopped her in her tracks. She spun around, looking horrified.

“But your Harry Potter!” She squeaked, seeming faint. Harry shrugged.

“I was raised by my Muggle relatives, who hate magic. They didn't even want to let me go to Hogwarts.”

“You mean you had never even heard about magick until a professor came to get you?”She looked appalled but resumed her march down Diagon Alley.

“Why didn't the professor take you to accept your heirship? They should know better!” she complained to no one in particular.

“Well,” Harry explained,” it was Hagrid who took me to Diagon, and I doubt he knows much about that stuff.”

“I can't believe they had Hagrid introduce you to the Wixen world,” she scoffed. Harry pulled his arm out of her grasp, causing her to turn around,

”There's nothing wrong with Hagrid, he's a great man!” he glared at her.

“Oh! No, that's not what I meant. I have nothing against Hagrid. It's just . . .Well. . .” She paused, and Harry realised what she was thinking.

“He's not always the quickest?” Harry asked, understanding what she meant. She nodded, looking slightly guilty, 

“he just, . . . he's not all that well versed in the Wixen world. He's spent basically his whole life at Hogwarts.”Harry nodded, and they continued in silence until Greengrass finally stopped in front of Gringotts, before leading him inside. She bowed her head slightly to the goblin guards at the door. Harry quickly mimicked the gesture before following her inside. She quickly walked up to one of the goblin bankers and waited to be acknowledged. When she was, she spoke with confidence.

“Master Gracnog, may your enemies fall swiftly to your blade, and your coffers overflow with gold.”

The goblin, Gracnog, he supposed, grinned quite the menacing grin, but Harry supposed that must just be how goblins smile because he responded, “And may the blood of your enemies run like a river as with your gold heiress Greengrass,” he said with a slight incline of his head mirroring Greengrass’s. She turned to Harry, gesturing for him to do the same.

With some hesitation, Harry stuttered,

 “M-may your gold flow like the blood of your enemies,” he nodded before quickly adding, “Master Gracnog.” The goblin raised one rather bushy eyebrow before nodding slightly and responding,

"And yours, young man." The Goblin gave a nearly imperceptible head nod.

"May I ask your name?”

“Oh,” Harry felt his face flush at his error, “ Harry, Harry Potter.” Gracnog raised both eyebrows this time.

“What can I help you two with today?” Greengrass looked to Harry before sighing when he didn't respond, 

“He is here to claim his heirship.” She glanced at the large clock before grimacing, “I apologise,” she looked to the other two, “I really must be going, good luck, Potter.” She turned and nodded to Gracnog before quickly making her way towards one of the fireplaces, but stopped a few paces away and turned, adding, “And do get some new shoes at least.” Then she turned back and continued to the fireplace and flooed away.

Harry turned uncertainly to Gracnog, who glared at him before finally speaking,

“If you'll follow me, I'll bring you to Steel Claw, the Potter family's account manager. He's been trying to reach you for nearly six years now and is quite unhappy with your lack of response,” he smirked as he stated the last part. Harry swallowed the lump forming in his throat. 

He followed Gracnog through a series of winding corridors, which he quickly lost track of. Eventually, they reached a large pair of double doors with a placard written in a language couldn’t read. Gracnog gave Harry a rather menacing smirk as he held open the door and gestured for Harry to enter.