Hall of Potters

Excursions

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August 2, 1988

Digging out the list of supplies he was supposed to get, Harry considered where to go first. He had just entered Diagon Alley and looking at the masses of people, the young Potter felt a bit self-conscious. Surely he would stick out like black in a sea of white? Harry tensed, observing the magical folk milling about in the alley. 

No one paid any sort of attention to him. Harry sighed, and looked at the supplies again. 

Well, he mused, heading to the bank sounds like a good idea.

As he made his way to Gringotts, he managed to keep his face neutral, not wanting to look out of place. But on the inside, as only the Potters and he could tell, he was jubilant and gleeful at the thought of being amongst magicals who weren't Potters. As he made his way into the white bank, he almost stopped dead in surprise at the sight of the words engraved into the silver doors.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn, 

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Harry couldn't help but think that there were probably simpler ways of saying 'don't rob us,' but the cautionary poem at least got the point across. 

Pushing past the silver doors, his jaw tightened as he strode into the room. He nodded respectfully to the many stationery armour-clad goblins. The armour they wore was decked in gold chainmail, and in each of their hands, was a large argent halberd. 

The room, however, was absolutely marvellous. It was a vast hall made of white marble, and many doors were leading off the hall, with goblins bowing people in and out. There was an incredibly long, high teller section at the far end, staffed by a dozen goblins. These goblins were either wearing glasses or gold eyepieces, dressed in outmoded banker's suits. There were various trinkets such as brass scales, jars of gold, and even dainty glasses placed in ledgers throughout the bank, goblins occasionally visiting them in accordance with their needs. Picking the closest goblin teller, Harry schooled his features once more before approaching them. 

"What do you want?" the goblin said rather deliberately, his irregular accent washing over the youth. 

"I would like to access the vault in my name, please," Harry said, his posture calm and collected. As he told the goblin his wish, Harry studied the small creature. They towered over him, sitting on a high pedestal. He presumed this was to intimidate the puny wizards that came before the goblin. No doubt that the goblin enjoyed it thoroughly, as it was normally him that had to look up to taller beings. The goblin was also bald, with a white goatee and furry eyebrows. He had a wrinkly face, yet clever and sharp black eyes. 

"Name? And your key?" the goblin asked nonchalantly. 

"Harry Potter." At this, one of the goblin's eyebrows raised. Few sentient individuals in Britain—human or otherwise—weren't cognizant of the surname Potter. 

"I have also not received my key." The goblin's eyebrows now disappeared into his hairline. 

"Right..." the goblin said slowly, thinking furiously. At first, his mind had screamed INTRUDER, but now, he wasn't so sure. If this was a ruse, it would have to either be an amazing one, utilizing reverse psychology to gain access to the Potter vaults, or a frivolous and utterly pathetic attempt.