As early as he could after breakfast the following morning, Harry slipped out of number ninety-five Diagon Alley and strolled back towards Gringotts.
Arriving at the bank this early meant that most of the tellers were free due to the dearth of customers about. Picking one at random, Harry approached the high counter and settled himself in to wait until he was noticed. After nearly five minutes, the goblin finally put his quill down and lift his head to look him shrewdly in the eye.
"Yes?" the goblin asked.
"Good morning, I was wondering if I could make an appointment to see my account manager, please?" Harry asked.
"Your name?"
"Harry Potter, Sir," he replied.
The goblin's narrowed eyes and there was a slight pause before he called a second goblin over to him that had Harry feeling as though he'd done something wrong. He swallowed hard at the thought that he might have offended the goblin somehow. Professor Binns had told enough horror stories of how goblins dealt with wizards who'd offended them in the various goblin wars over the centuries to ensure that that was something that Harry desperately wanted to avoid.
"Wait over there until an appointment can be arranged for you," the goblin stated, indicating a long stone bench that sat against the far wall.
"Thank you, Sir," Harry smiled before crossing the hall to sit on the uncomfortable polished stone.
Surprisingly, it was only a matter of minutes before the younger goblin that had rushed off to set up his appointment returned.
"Come with me. Account Manager Slipshard is available to see you now," the goblin instructed.
Jumping up, Harry made sure to follow at what he hoped was a respectful two paces behind his guide.
He was led through a narrow door into a hallway that felt more tunnel-like that anything else with its rough-cut stone walls. The dim lighting was just bright enough for Harry to realise that if he had been fully grown, then he would have had to duck his head to keep from hitting it on the low ceiling.
His guide stopped at the third wooden door that appeared and rapped hard on it with the pommel of a knife that had appeared in his hand.
"Come!" a deep voice commanded.
Opening the door, the goblin tipped his head and trotted back down the corridor. Tearing his gaze away from the back of the retreating goblin, Harry forced himself forward through the door.
He found himself entering a small cave-like room about the size of his old bedroom back on Privet Drive. The rough-hewn walls to either side of the room were filled with shelves carved into the very rock walls. Numerous crystals and small silver objects dominated the shelving, although Harry also noted a number of shallow bowls and knives also in attendance.
Behind the rich mahogany desk, the rock wall was completely hidden by bookshelves filled with leather-bound books, folders and files. The desk though, was impressive. It took up nearly three-quarters of the width of the room and looked to be almost as wide as a bed. Its sides and front continued to the floor in the dark red wood, hiding everything behind it. Four or five small piles of folders were stacked neatly to either side of the large green blotter that dominated the centre of the table. A number of inkwells and quills were placed neatly at the top of the desk, ready for use.
But it was the goblin seated behind the desk that really caught Harry's attention. Like all goblins, he was much shorter than Harry, with piercing black eyes that seemed to be looking not just at him, but into him as though measuring his very worth. Dark grey tuffs of hair sprouted out of his long ears and also, Harry noted, from his large nose. His long fingers were steepled together in front of him as he waited for Harry to approach.
"Close the door behind you, Mister Potter and take a seat," the goblin instructed, indicating one of the two chairs in front of his desk.
"My name is Slipshard," he continued once Harry was seated, "and I have been the Potter Account Manager for the last forty-three years.
"Nice to meet you, Mr Slipshard," Harry said, rising slightly so that his outstretched hand could reach across the desk.
Slipshard cocked his head slightly and appeared bemused as he shook Harry's proffered hand.
"May I assume correctly that you have some questions about your finances?" Slipshard asked.
Harry nodded as he withdrew his father's letter and the folder that it came with from inside his cloak. "I found this yesterday in my Investment Vault and I was hoping that you could help me understand it all. I've never had any money that I've had to manage before, well, apart from my Education vault, but I only found out about that last year and I've only visited that once."
Taking the folder, Slipshard gave it a brief look over before piercing Harry once more with his penetrating gaze.
"This all looks in order," Slipshard stated, "it's the standard Investment Portfolio that all Potter fathers set up for their children to help them learn about finances and investment. You have a single building set aside for your use, along with the funds in the vault itself. The rest of these documents detail the instructions to Gringotts in the extremely unlikely event that you need the main Potter Vault to cover complete financial disaster. Not that any Potter has ever needed that clause."
Harry sighed and dropped his head. "Reckon that I'll be the first then."
A low growl accompanied by a thump on the desk snapped Harry's head up.
"No. That will not happen," Slipshard stated emphatically. "You are a Potter and I, your Account Manager, will not see a Potter fail." Suddenly, his tone softened. "I will need you to tell me why it is that you think that you will fail in this task so that we can work to mitigate that outcome."
"As I said, Mister Slipshard, I don't know anything about finances. I've never had to look after money before and no-one's ever taught me anything about money. I just know that whatever decisions I make will be the wrong ones."
Slipshard leant back in his chair, his head cocked to one side as he studied him. The longer that the gaze lasted, the more nervous Harry became. Finally, Slipshard leant forward once more. His hand shot out to wave over a particular part of his desk before he spoke in a language that Harry didn't understand, before he once more waved his hand over that part of the desk.
"You know your limitations, Harry Potter, and that is good," Slipshard stated. "What you and I need to do is to take those limitations and eliminate them."
Harry nodded, unsure exactly what Slipshard had in mind, but liking the general notion.
"Can ... can you teach me about money and how to invest like my dad wanted me to?" Harry asked.
Once more that strange tilt of the head was back. "Certainly, Mister Potter, that is indeed what I had in mind. I must say, that you are indeed one unique wizard."
Harry's eyes closed as he fought a sigh of frustration. It seemed that even among the goblins, that Boy-Who-Lived nonsense was prevalent.
"There's nothing special about me," he insisted, "I'm just Harry."
"No, Mister Potter, you are indeed special, just like your father and his father before him," Slipshard retorted. "You treat me not just as an equal, but as a better. That is very unusual in a wizard. And I have heard the same from the tellers that you have encountered. Most wizards treat goblins as little better than something that they stepped in. I thank you for that. It is most refreshing."
A knock on the door interrupted Harry's reply. He turned to see a goblin enter carrying a small stack of books, which, at Slipshard's gesture, he placed in Harry's hands before retreating from the room.
"Study these, Mister Potter, and between them and myself, your grasp of finances will improve by leaps and bounds," Slipshard instructed.
Harry looked at the five books in his arms carefully before looking up at his account manager again. "Thank you so much."
Slipshard nodded before continuing. "You will also be sent a statement of your financial position each month."
Harry looked up sharply from the books once more. "Um, I've been having problems with getting mail of late. There's been a house elf blocking my mail."
Narrowed eyes and a low hiss marked Slipshard's displeasure at that announcement. "That is something that we can deal with. There is a Goblin Postal Service that we will employ the services of before you leave Gringotts today. Now, what specific questions do you have for me about investing?"
Of the dozens that Harry had had running through his mind since he'd first read his father's letter, he plucked the one that had dominated them all.
"What sorts of things should I invest in?"
Slipshard grinned in such a way as to make his eyes glint in anticipation.
-oOoOo-
Even though his head was still spinning from his talk with Slipshard, Harry knew that he had to continue with his appointed tasks for the day. And truthfully when he thought about it, he felt that some time out in the muggle world conducting mindless shopping might be just what he needed. There'd be plenty of time to think about inheritances, magical cultures and tutors later. Much later.
And besides, with a fistful of notes in the new money pouch that Slipshard had given him just waiting to be spent, some things simply demanded to be considered as a higher priority right then.
As he passed through The Leaky Cauldron onto Charing Cross Road, he pulled up short, staring at the spot that he'd last seen Hermione. He shook his head at the thought that that was only yesterday. So much had happened between then and now that it seemed as though days or even weeks had passed by.
Resolutely, he squared his shoulders, picked a direction at random and started walking.
The muggle road was quite busy with a steady stream of cars continuously passing by, not to mention the dozens or perhaps hundreds of people purposely striding about. Thankfully, not one of them gave the small boy with old, daggy, oversized clothes a second look.
After a couple of block's walk down the road, Harry finally spied what he was looking for: the entrance to a small mall. Impatiently, he bounced on the balls of his feet until there was a break in the cars and he could dash across the road. Then it was simply a matter of walking in through the sliding glass doors.
Inside, Harry found himself nearly overwhelmed by the shiny tiled walls, enticing display windows and all of the brightly lit signs. Everything around him was alien. This was not the sort of place that Aunt Petunia would ever take him. The oldest, darkest second-hand store had always been the type of shop that sold anything that he ever needed that he couldn't simply get from Dudley after he'd either outgrown it or broken it.
Slowly placing one foot in front of the other, head constantly swinging around at every bright and shiny new sight, Harry moved forward. Rounding the first corner that he came to brought him face to face with the very thing that he was looking for: a men's clothing store.
-oOoOo-
It was what felt like many days later that Harry finally escaped from the store and Gemma, the helpful sales assistant that had insisted that he try on clothes after clothes after clothes as though he was some kind of real-life dress up doll that had wandered in to her store specifically for her very pleasure.
As burdened down as he was by the dozen or so bags, Harry took his time walking back along Charing Cross Road towards The Leaky Cauldron. In no hurry, he idly gazed in the multitude of shop windows, marvelling at the many different displays. There were cakes and pies, travel brochures and world maps, backpacks and pop-up tents, magazines and books all designed to catch his attention.
It was one of the last that not only caught his attention and jerked him to a stop, but also forced him backwards to stare more intently in the shop window. A large, thick book lay open in the display window and one word, one name on the page, riveted his gaze to it: Hermione.
Quickly scanning the page, he discovered that it was part of a scene from a play by William Shakespeare called The Winter's Tale. Hermione, it seemed, was one of the characters in the play. Harry devoured her lines over and over, not once making head nor tales of what it was that she was trying to say. The old English phrases simply washed over him in incomprehensibility.
Deciding that the only way that he could understand it was to read the entire play, Harry made an instant decision. Pushing open the door with the large sign declaring McHenry's Used and Rare Books Going Out of Business Sale, he entered the store.