The Truth Is Not What It Seems *Now UP FOR ADOPTION *

Ch. 2.

Hey, all my readers. I know it's been a few days, but I'm trying to figure out how to give the beginning of this story it's own uniqueness. I don't want to follow the book, but at the same time it's hard not too. Like getting picked up by Hagrid, Diagon Alley, or King's Cross Station (though I do have an idea for platform 9 and 3/4)  Merry 4th day of Christmas, if you celebrate Christmas.

Ch. 2 Diagon Alley and A Few Surprises

In order to get to Diagon Alley from Muggle London, we have to go through the Hog's Inn. The entire ride here I've been preparing myself for what people will do when they find out I'm Harry Potter. In a almost perfect world, I would walk quietly past the patrons before they could figure out my identity, but with Hagrid here that's not going to be possible.

As expected, Hog's Inn is crowded. Not to sound big headed or anything, but they are probably celebrating The-Boy-Who-Lived 11th birthday. The inn is cleaner then I expected. Sure the floor is covered in an uncountable layers of dirt, and it's dimly lighted, but it's amazing. The architecture is brilliant, and the inn is clean in all areas but the dust. 
"Hagrid," a voice calls out from the bar. "You want your usual?"
No, Hagrid don't say it. "Can' Tom. Here on official Hogwarts business. Here to take youn' Harry Potter school shopping."
The entire inn goes quiet. Thanks, Hagrid. Ever heard of keeping a low profile? Then Tom (ironically that he's named that) looks straight at me, "Your Harry Potter! The-Boy-Who-Lived!"
"Yes," I say shifting unfortunately. Unfountantly, the rest of the patrons take my answer as an invite to introduce themselves. Names fly by so fast I can't remember how many people I've meant.
"Um," I mutter trying to summon my inner confidence. "It's nice to meet you all, but I've got a lot of things to buy for Hogwarts and little time to do it. Hagrid and I should be off."
Fortunately, Hagrid isn't as dim as I originally thought, and he catches on. "Yea, well we must be going. Lot' to buy."

Pushing our way through the crowd, we emerge at the back of the inn and the entrance to Diagon Alley. I watch carefully as Hagrid taps the sequence of the blocks with his umbrella.

The bricks spiral away from each other to reveal the hub of shopping in Wizarding England.
I can't explain it. The buildings seem to buzz with magic, and the streets are crowded with so many witches and wizards in robes. The shops we pass hold potion ingredients, cauldrons, flying books, brooms, and even a few crystal balls. Hagrid points at the most towering building out of all of Diagon Alley. Gringotts Bank. The bank is easily noticable, and it stands at almost a straight line from the entrance.
The place is a white color almost cream with rooms that seem to stack on top of each other. A life size sculpture of a dragon stands on top of the building next to the bank. The dragon even breathes fire every once in a while. The bank is labeled as Gringotts Bank. Above the doors is a poem meant to scare away thieves. I take a moment to read it as Hagrid and I draw closer curious as to what the goblins came up with. I read:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those that 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.
My eyes snap to the Dragon which is currently giving off a blast of man-made fire, and then back to the bank. Well, I'm not breaking into Gringotts any time soon.
Entering the bank, Hagrid lead me past the goblins at the high desks to an empty one. The goblin looks up from his work, obviously annoyed at being disturbed. Hagrid doesn't seem to be affected as he tells the goblin that I wish to make a withdrawal from the Potter Vault.
"And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"
Key?! I don't have a key for the Potter Vault! Luckily, Hagrid goes through his never-ending pockets and picks out a single golden key the size of a house key.
"Why do you have my key?"
"Dumbledore gave it me," Hagrid replies like this is the most normal thing ever.
"Why does Dumbledore have my key?"
Hagrid waves off my question. He hands the key and an envelope stamped with TOP SECRET to the goblin. "Also I got business' from Dumbledore bout You-know-what in Vault You-Know-Which."
Really Hagrid! You can't pipe my curiosity more than that.
"Alright," the goblin says as he hops down from his stool.
The goblin leads us to what looks like a mine shaft and tells us to climb in one of the carts.
"Wait. How fast does this thing goooooooooo-"
The cart takes off. We speed past vaults so fast my mind doesn't have time to make out a blur! I can't tell up from down- right from left- side from side- forward from backwards! I'm not even sure I'm conscious  anymore! Throughout it all, my ears can make out Hagrid give a warning that makes my own stomach churn.
"Yeh might want to tun away! I'm gonna vomit soon!"
"Don't haul on me!" I holler back trying to find where Hagrid is. I can barely make out words from my own vision, but I hear something that sounds like "no promises," from Hagrid's direction.
Suddenly, the cart comes to a stop. And, I'm not talking about it slowly stopping. This is it going from full speed to 0 in a second. I'm surprised I wasn't launched forward.
"The Potter Vault," Gripphook the goblin announces as he climbs out of the cart. Hagrid and I struggle to follow him.
Hagrid hands Gripphook the key, and Gripphook places the key inside the tiny keyhole. The door opens to reveal piles and piles of galleons, sickles, and Knuts. My mouth hangs open, and I stumble through my next sentence.
"How much money is this in muggle currency?"
Hagrid shrugs and looks at Gripphook. "Roughly 2.6 million pounds."
I think I let out an inhuman screech at the number. Instictly, I reach into the back of my pocket and feel the coolness of the two keys in my pocket. Each to a different vault. One is for the Riddle Vault. Grandpa's grandparents were actually squibs and my great-great-grandfather was the heir to the wizarding house of Riddle. The second is to the Slytherin vault which only rivals the other founder's vault. I would also be the heir to the noble and ancient house of Selwyn, if my great-grandparents hadn't disowned my grandmother when she married my grandfather out of love and not an arranged marriage.  The funny thing is that my great-grandparents were loyal death eaters and worshiped You-Know-Who like a god. If only they knew who their daughter fell in love with and married. If only they knew that their daughter would be the grandmother of The-Boy-Who-Lived before they died last year.

Gripphook hands me a few bags that I fill with all types of money before telling me, "Mr. Potter, there is something in your father's will that we were supposed to give you when you turned 11."
"What?" I ask confused.
Gripphook hands me a silvery grey cloak that seems to shine as it's given to me.
"A cloak?!" I ask flabbergasted. "Why would my father leave me a cloak of all things?"
"Don' know Harry. With James theres got to be a reason though," Hagrid says thoughtful. Almost at a whisper I catch, "Wonder why Dumbledore didn't know bout it."
A short time later after another terrible ride through the maze of Gringotts, the three of us stop at Vault 317. This vault has a different lock. Gripphook runs his finger down the shiny vault, and it opens to reveal a single red pouch. Hagrid scoops it up and tells me to not mention about the object to anyone. I nod as I already have a good idea about what it is.
10 minutes later, Hagrid and I are heading out of Gringotts. I stop in my tracks as I spot my family. My real family. My grandmother Chelsea Slewyn-Riddle is known as the best and most powerful potion maker in the history of the world.  Using an advanced polyjuice that Grandma created that allows someone to take the form of someone they want or create someone new all together. The potion also reveals their true form to whoever they want, but everyone else sees the person created by the potion. Another advancement from the regular polyjuice is that this potion doesn't have a time limit. It's a bit depressing if you think about it. All my family members are either supposed to be in Askaban, dead, or can't come near me or Dumbledore will get suspicious. My parents are "dead", my godfather Sirus is supposed to be in Askaban for his "crimes" (he's really not in Askaban because of one of my Grandma's potions), my uncle Peter is "dead" or the "Weasly's rat" (whichever you prefer), my uncle Lupin can't come near me, my grandma can't come near me (Dumbledore doesn't know about Grandpa's and Grandma's marriage or who Mum really is), and Grandpa well you can guess why. Everyone is here. They walk closer to Hagrid and I, and I can see the gleam in my Grandpa's eyes at seeing Hagrid again.
'"Excuse me, Hagrid right?" My Grandma asks. At Hagrid's nod she continues. "Would you mind if we take Harry for the rest of the day?"
What happens next is something I will never forget.