Morning crept into the shack like it was guilty about it. The storm had left the boards damp and the air tasting of cold ash. Harry woke to the hiss of sausages and Hagrid humming low at the hearth, the sound somewhere between a lullaby and distant thunder negotiating with a frying pan.
"Up yeh get," Hagrid said, without turning. "Big day."
Harry pushed himself up under the enormous coat. Dudley lay on the sofa with his eyes screwed shut in the dramatic way of someone trying to be invisible by pure willpower. Petunia and Vernon watched Hagrid from the corner as if he might suddenly juggle the furniture and baptize the shack in fire.
Hagrid turned with a tin plate. "Eat up."
Harry took a sausage, bit in, and closed his eyes. "Best breakfast I've had that wasn't rumoured to exist."
I would have added vole, Nyx murmured, languid. But I respect the rustic charm.
Eat, Hedwig said. Then leave.
Vernon cleared his throat like he was about to announce a new law. "He's not taking anything from this house with him."
Harry glanced at the thin mattress, the precise pile of Dudley's retired wardrobe, the little rectangle of space that had tried to pass for a life. "I'll try not to empty the place all at once."
Petunia's mouth went white. "We kept you clothed and fed—"
"Fed?" Hagrid's eyes swept over Harry, taking him in the way a forest knows a path. "You call this fed?"
"I've dined lavishly on rumors," Harry said. "Five stars. Would recommend a side of sarcasm."
Vernon flushed puce. "Ungrateful—"
"Enough," Hagrid said, not loud, not soft, just a word you couldn't argue with unless you were inside a story that liked losing. He looked to Harry. "Ready?"
Harry stood, set the plate on the crate, and pulled the huge coat tighter. He caught Petunia's eyes for a second, something brittle passing between them and leaving nothing it could live in. He nodded at no one and let the door take him.
Outside, the wind had been demoted from fury to sulk. The sea still tested the rocks, but its voice was farther away. The little boat knocked against the stone as if impatient. Hagrid climbed in, which made the boat take stock of its life choices, then steadied it with one hand while Harry stepped aboard.
"Want me to row?" Harry asked, eyeing the oars like they were guarding a secret.
"Got it," Hagrid said, and dipped the blades with a rhythm that pretended the sea was a large, wet corridor and he had places to be.
Spray tapped Harry's cheeks awake. The coat held the cold at arm's length, and the salt taste in the air made him feel like his lungs were trying on a different kind of breathing.
So we are leaving the museum of damp resentment, Nyx said. Excellent. The lighting was unflattering.
The ceilings were too low for flight, Hedwig said. This is an improvement.
Harry risked a glance back. The shack had already become a shape, then a smudge. He looked forward again, toward a mainland that kept getting larger, like the world was leaning in to hear.
"So," he said, pitching his voice casual and landing on hopeful, "school shopping. How am I paying for any of this? Because I'm currently operating on a robust budget of lint and wishes."
"Don't need Muggle money," Hagrid said. "Your mum and dad left yeh funds. Safe in Gringotts."
"Grin—"
"Gringotts," Hagrid repeated. "Wizard bank. Run by goblins. Safest place there is, 'cept maybe Hogwarts."
Harry absorbed that. "Right. Goblins. Banks. And here I thought my day couldn't get any more normal." He squinted at the horizon. "Do their ATMs bite?"
"They don't bite," Hagrid said. "They glare a bit if yeh take too long."
I will be taking as long as possible, Nyx said. I wish to be glared at by a professional.
We will be respectful, Hedwig said.
They bumped against the mainland dock, tied up, and started up the road that still held last night's puddles in the dips. The small station looked faintly surprised to see them. Hagrid came back to the bench with two tickets and change that tried to escape his palm and failed.
On the platform, people did what people do: magazines, travel cups, a child counting shoes like they were stars. Hagrid existed among them the way a tree might attend a tea party, very politely, very obviously a tree.
"Is there—" Harry began, then glanced at Hagrid. "Is there a wizarding bus? Or do you get… looks?"
"Bit of both," Hagrid said, with the calm of a man who had been a bit of both his whole life. "Muggle train's fine. Cheaper."
The train rolled in and sighed to a stop. Doors hissed open. Harry led them into a carriage with seats that had learned patience. A woman glanced up, did a small double take at Hagrid, then pretended she hadn't. Harry slid into a window seat; Hagrid took the aisle and left the seat between them heroically unoccupied.
As the train clattered into motion, a toddler toddled down the aisle holding the string of a balloon that had ambitions to be a moon. The child stopped dead in front of Hagrid, craned his neck, and beamed.
"Big," the toddler announced.
"Tha's right," Hagrid said gravely. "Grew up too near a watering can."
The toddler considered this, then nodded like he'd learned something crucial and toddled away.
Harry bit back a laugh. "Do you do this often?"
"Exist?" Hagrid said.
"Apologize to furniture with your knees," Harry said. "And frighten ceilings."
"Part of the charm," Hagrid said. His beard might have smiled.
Fields unspooled. Hedgerows. A scarecrow trying to unionize crows and failing. Harry let the green settle inside him, city distant enough he could stand to think about it.
"So," he said, "tell me more about Gringotts. Does one simply waltz into a goblin bank?"
"Yeh don't waltz," Hagrid said. "They're big on respect. Yeh present your key, they take yeh to your vault. Down in carts. Track goes like a dragon designed it."
"Safe," Harry said.
"Very," Hagrid said. "Breakin' in is a bad idea. Breakers don't come back in a condition for explainin'."
Duly noted, Nyx said, in the tone of someone having a new sport explained to them that they would try later anyway.
We are not breaking into anything, Hedwig said, no-nonsense.
The train eased into city, bricks and windows replacing hedges. At the main station, they disembarked into a tide of people. Hagrid made a polite island that the tide flowed around. Harry matched his stride to the pocket of space Hagrid created in front of him and found, with relief, that it felt like walking behind a boulder with manners.
They navigated streets that knew how to shout. Harry had lived in cities his whole life without belonging to them. Today, for the first time, he felt like he had someone to translate. Hagrid stopped in front of a narrow pub that was having a long relationship with soot. The sign read The Leaky Cauldron, in faded letters that suggested the sign had better things to do.
Inside, the air was warm and tasted of stew. A handful of people sat at tables that had agreed to look old in exchange for never being moved.
"Morning, Tom," Hagrid said.
The barman looked up from polishing a glass that might have been polished since the last war. "Hagrid! Haven't seen you in a bit. Drink?"
"Can't," Hagrid said. "Got business. Helpin' Harry here get his school supplies."
"Harry?" Tom said, leaning forward. "Harry Potter?"
He said it half a notch too loud. A head turned here, a shoulder there. Curiosity pricked its ears. No one stood. No one swooned. Harry swallowed and found his voice.
"Hi," he said to the nearest bottle. "Just shopping."
Tom's eyebrows did a quick dance that said he'd put something together and then took it apart again. "Back way then. Best get you through."
"Thanks," Hagrid said. He steered Harry through a door that had accepted its fate as a door to a place no one admitted existed.
They stepped into a small courtyard full of old brick and a slice of sky the exact size of a longing. Hagrid lifted his pink umbrella, squinted at the wall like it was a puzzle he enjoyed every time, and tapped three bricks: one, two, three.
The wall shivered. Lines crawled like frost in reverse, and the bricks folded away from each other in neat little pivots. A gap opened, then widened, and a street unfurled on the other side like someone had rolled reality up and was now rolling it down.
Harry stared. "You're actually going there with the secret magic brick wall. Fantastic. Why not throw in a trapdoor and a chorus line of singing teapots."
Hagrid grinned into his beard. "Welcome to Diagon Alley."
If you run, Nyx said, I'm not stopping you. I will merely narrate.
Observe, Hedwig said softly. Details matter.
They stepped through. Sound opened up. Robes swept. Hats made statements. Shop windows glowed with objects trying to outdo each other at being fascinating. A display of cauldrons stacked themselves in sizes that made nesting dolls feel insecure. Broomsticks hovered in a window, handles gleaming, bristles sleek, each one insisting, pick me, I am faster than your doubts. An owl emporium pulsed with slow blinks and the quiet rustle of feathers arranging their opinions. A window of books displayed spines that varied between stern, playful, and likely cursed.
"I'm going to pretend to be cool about this," Harry said, voice going thin with the effort. "Just for personal brand consistency."
No one believes your brand, Nyx said. You are incandescent with glee.
Good, Hedwig said. Let it be seen. That is honest.
"First stop," Hagrid said, pointing down the street where something white and monumental anchored the lane like a glacier had gotten into finance. "Gringotts."
"Of course it's the building that looks like it could sue the sun," Harry said. "Perfect banking energy."
They set off, Harry's head turning like he was trying not to miss anything and missing everything anyway. A boy his age argued with a shopkeeper about whether a chess bishop should be allowed to sulk. A witch flicked her wand at a stack of boxes that re-stacked themselves into a more aesthetically pleasing stack and then preened. A cauldron in a window hiccuped a purple bubble that broke into the smell of blackberries and regret.
"Do I get to keep the regret," Harry asked, "or is it a lease situation?"
Careful with smells, Hedwig said. Some of them bind.
"Right," Harry said. "I will sniff responsibly."
They passed a stall selling candy that actively beckoned. A sherbet lemon attempted to abscond. The vendor snapped it back with a flick.
"I could spend a month here and only acquire three items and eight new coping mechanisms," Harry said.
"Save the month," Hagrid said, amused. "We've got a list."
"Robes?" Harry guessed, eyeing a window where a mannequin in midnight blue twitched its hem as if to keep it exactly that length.
"Later," Hagrid said. "Money first."
"Because the universe is finally on my side," Harry said. "I would like that in writing."
He couldn't keep his gaze off the people. Small magics made themselves useful everywhere. A teacup followed a witch like a small, well-trained dog. A stack of books argued softly with itself and then apologized. A quill took dictation from a wizard who spoke in rhymes; halfway through, the quill insisted on a better metaphor and corrected him.
This is my favorite place, Nyx declared, fickle. Until the next favorite place.
You haven't seen the library, Hedwig said, which counted as a threat and a promise.
They came within the shadow of the white building. Up close, it was all smooth stone and an attitude. Bronze doors reflected a distorted Harry back at himself: boy, coat too big, hair trying to unionize, eyes pretending to be older than twelve and failing. Goblins in scarlet and gold uniforms stood at the doors and looked like they had invented disapproval and now licensed it to others.
Harry slowed. "So those are goblins. They look like they could run a bank or a very exclusive duel club. Also, I feel like they can smell my net worth."
"They can smell your intent," Hagrid said. "Mind your manners."
I like them, Nyx said. They look like they would say no to things that do not deserve yes.
They understand boundaries, Hedwig agreed.
Harry glanced back down the alley, full of chaos pretending to be order, or order pretending to be chaos, he couldn't tell which. He looked at the doors again. The world he'd fallen into was new; the rules felt old. He could taste nerves and excitement in his mouth like two different kinds of salt.
He huffed a small laugh. "Right then. Step one: don't waltz. Step two: don't ask for cashback. Step three: act like you've been here before."
"Step three's optional," Hagrid said, eyes kind. "There's no wrong way to be new."
"That's the best thing anyone's said to me," Harry admitted.
He shifted the coat on his shoulders and flexed his fingers to shake out jitters he refused to call jitters. Hagrid adjusted the angle of the trunk strap on his shoulder and looked like moving a small wardrobe around a city was just how he liked to warm up.
"Ready?" Hagrid asked.
Harry looked up at the doors, at the goblins, at the script carved above that seemed to suggest poetry and threat had gotten together and had a motto. He pulled in a breath that reached all the way to the part of him that had been waiting at a cupboard door for years.
"Ready," he said.
Good, Nyx purred. Let's go meet the money.
We will meet the rules, Hedwig said. Then we will follow them. Then we will learn which ones to bend.
Harry smiled despite himself. "Let's get my life on a ledger," he said, and stepped toward Gringotts, the doors catching the light and throwing it back like a dare.