Home At Last

Inheritance and Gringotts

               Harry shot up in bed, panting as he reached for his glasses and shoved them on. When he put them on, he noticed that his vision didn't suddenly clear as it usually did, it just blurred up even more. Confused, he removed his glasses and froze.

              He could see.....really see......without glasses! Harry didn't know what to do or what to say. All he could do was wonder how in the name of Merlin bloody Whatever-his-last-name-is can he see without his heavens-be-damned glasses! He shook his head and peered at himself through the mirror with narrowed eyes, as if it held all the answers to the torrents of questions swirling through his restless mind. Finally, almost as though he realized it would do him no good, he drew his eyes away from the mirror and they landed upon on his window. His normally owl-less window that had an unfamiliar pitch black owl perched haughtily on his windowsill.

               Curious, he walked forward and upon further inspection, noticed a neatly rolled and ribbon-tied parchment attached to the owl's foot. Confusion replaced curiosity as he took the parchment and unfurled it. Once he had read it though, all he could do was stare at the parchment wide-eyed and slack-jawed. No way...

"Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

It has come to our attention that you have just gone through your inheritance at precisely 12:00 a.m. on the morn of July 31, 1995. We, the goblins, would like to formally invite you to Gringotts Bank for an audience with Head Goblin Ragnok Gringotts. You have been scheduled to meet Head Goblin Gringotts on August 1, 1995 at 2:00 p.m. sharp. We look forward to your arrival and wish you a good rest of the day.

Thanks & Regards,

Spokes-goblin Yurgus"

               Harry snapped out of his stupor and glanced at the watch he had laid rather precariously at the edge of his desk. 6:30 a.m., Harry groaned in annoyance. He wished it could have been scheduled earlier, then he wouldn't have to spend much wasted time around the Dursleys. Looking back at the windowsill, he noticed that the owl had disappeared, shrugging, he continued dressing himself.

               He pushed the watch further onto his nightside table and glared at it, half-hoping that it would somehow speed up time until it was just minutes before 2:00 p.m. Grumbling under his breath, Harry got dressed and walked downstairs to prepare breakfast. Harry put together a simple meal of pancakes, butter, strawberries and a delicious drizzle of maple syrup. He released a breath of relief before his breath caught in his throat again. The drinks! How could he forget the drinks, quickly, he ran into the kitchen and poured three cups of orange juice and laid it out onto the table, pouring some into a pitcher and placing that on the table as well (in case they wanted a refill - which, at Harry's expense, was very often).

               Harry finally let himself relax, he remembered what happened the last time he forgot to place something on the table. That was the first time his un-Vernon, he refused to call him uncle, had ever hit Harry. From there, it escalated, Vernon would slap him for the smallest of things. He'd slap him whenever Dudley blames things on Harry; whenever he came back from work, livid; when he felt like Harry's mere existence was an insult to him; he hit him whenever he wanted. Although it hadn't been more than slaps, Harry was still wary. No matter how hard it may be, he always schooled his features into an emotionless mask and trained his eyes on the floor so as to not anger Vernon further.

               Harry's head snapped up as he heard slight shuffling from Vernon and Petunia's room, he tensed, snatched an apple and raced to his room, closing his door gently just as Petunia opened her room's door. Knowing Petunia would be headed to his room first, Harry hid the apple among his secret stash of cake - the ones that he got from his friends - and fixed his eyes to the wall, looking as forlorn as he could muster. This seemed to satisfy Petunia as she stuck her giraffe-resembling head into Harry's tiny room.

               The Dursleys kept him busy around the house as the clock slowly ticked closer and closer to 2:00. Harry found that it was torture, the more he glanced at it, the slower it seemed. It's true what they say, he admitted, "A watched pot never boils". So Harry tried not to look at the clock and found that even more torturous. The ringing tick tock of the clock seemed so very pronounced as he scrubbed furiously at the pristine dinner table for the seventh time today. His dearest cousin took it upon himself to tip something onto the table every time he walked by, smirking innocently at Harry as he retreated back upstairs.

               Harry sighed in relief when the clock struck just ten minutes before his scheduled meeting. He dressed himself in his best and only pair of casual wizarding robes and strode down the stairs, clutching the Portkey that he had later found out was attached to the letter. As luck would have it, all three of the Dursleys were sprawled on the now messy brown couch when he entered. As soon as Vernon noted his presence, he grew enraged and his face took on a certainly unattractive purple shade as he recognized Harry's robes to be that of a wizards. Vernon stood, but before he could say anything, Harry quickly muttered the activation word, Gobbledegook, and disappeared on the spot.

               Harry smirked as he landed in the familiar pub he knew to be the entrance to Diagon Alley. He nodded to Tom, who looked slightly baffled at his lack of glasses and nodded back, albeit warily and slightly suspicious. Harry slid his wand across the bricks and stepped through the opening, into the bustling alley. He smiled at the rush of wizards around him and walked to Gringotts with a skip to his step. He had often wondered throughout the day, how the Dursleys hadn't noticed his lack of glasses. Harry eventually concluded that they either didn't notice at all or elected not uto think of what "freaky magic tricks" he had indulged in, leaning more towards the latter.

               Finally, he reached the white marble steps to Gringotts, squaring his shoulders, he stepped through the huge, elegent french doors to Gringotts. He was ready, he could handle whatever new, unexpected information would be thrown his way. After all, he's been through much worse...right?