A/N: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no profit off of this story
Book One: Death
The growing child sat up in his bed and slowly stretched his body out, twisting it to get everything to pop. A wave of his hand and his wardrobe flung open. A second wave and his clothes came out to him. He could do that little parlor trick all day and not feel tired, but the fact of the matter was that it felt good to his body, feeling that rush of energy flowing through him. This was Harry Potter.
He wore a pair of black sweats and a black tank top. His body was lean, having no baby fat to speak of. And that was the way he liked it. He laced up the black trainers and stood up, just about to head outside when he heard a caw.
He turned to the black crow with red tipped feathers sitting on a stand on the desk in his room. He moved over to the window. "Sorry Dust." He said softly. He opened the window and gently petted its head before watching it take off out the window.
He then headed down the stairs and outside, locking the door behind him with a key hanging around his neck. He breathed in the crisp cold air of the morning. Everything looked to be the same at Number 4 Privet Drive. It was all normal. The other child of Number 4 was simply doing his morning workout.
Morning in that it was just barely cracking dawn.
He didn't let that stop him though as he took off at a hard run. Bright green eyes kept a focused look on his surroundings as he ran. Nonstop he ran, right up to the playground that he would avoid like the plague during the daytime.
Up along the bench, jump off, grab the tree limb and swing over to the bleachers. Up and down he raced up them using faster footwork. He leapt off the top and landed in a roll at the last set he could go up. He ran up the see saw, jumping from the top before it could hit the ground. He raced over to the monkey bars and he went up the three short rungs before he grabbed the first rung. He turned himself around and tucked in his legs and knees carefully before starting to swing. In a show of flexibility and strength, he got himself up over the bar and released, twisting himself in the air to land on the monkey bars. He landed awkwardly but he paused then.
Dust landed on his shoulder with a caw, flaring its wings out. "I know." He said softly to the crow, petting it on the head. "I'm as good as I'm going to get here."
With a sigh, he set to work finishing up his workout routine. This he hadn't changed very much. He didn't want a bulky body, he wanted something toned and streamlined so he could run when he needed to run. Being out of breath was never a good idea.
It wasn't long before he went back home. His workout clothes went into a hamper. Then he went and took a shower before he dressed once more. A pair of jeans and a nice black polo shirt adorned his body. He made his way downstairs, slicking his wet hair back. The other occupants of the house were still asleep.
In the kitchen, he quickly set to work starting breakfast. It was the only remnant of his old life that he didn't get rid of. He actually quite enjoyed cooking. It didn't take long though for the other members of the household to come down.
His eyes were drawn to the large mass of an individual that he was once forced to call his uncle. He poured the man a mug of coffee with three sugars and two scoops of creamer. The man muttered something under his breath, but he took the source of caffeine anyways. He then gave the man a plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns with two pieces of toast.
Next was the taller woman that he had once called his aunt. She too got the same breakfast, but not the coffee. Vernon would be leaving for work soon and would undoubtedly need the caffeine.
Lastly was Vernon and Petunia's darling son, Dudley. He was as squat and large as his father. He got the same breakfast as Petunia did, none of them saying a word of thanks or a word to Harry as he continued to cook.
He chose some toast, a bit of bacon, and eggs for himself with a glass of juice. His family had long since not spoken out of line to him, especially regarding Dust who sat diligently on his shoulder.
The sound of the mail flap drew his attention and he set his half eaten plate down. He went to retrieve the mail, expecting something around this time. He bent down to pick up the stack and quickly flipped through them. "Bill, bill, bill, letter from Marge... Ah…" Harry smiled down to the thick envelope he received with flowing green handwriting on it that read 'Harry James Potter, The smallest bedroom, Number 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey.'
Harry stepped into the kitchen briefly to put the rest of the mail on the table beside Vernon before he spoke up. "It came." He said simply before turning on his heel and heading up to his room.
He gathered his few belongings. Really it was just a few changes of clothes and a few books. These went into an old ruck sack. Harry then headed back downstairs to find Vernon waiting for him, briefcase in hand. Vernon was obviously torn between unhappiness and absolute glee.
Once outside, Harry petted Dust on its head. "Fly." He told it as Dust launched from his shoulder. Harry then got in the car with Vernon putting the ruck sack at his feet. From it, he pulled out an old ball cap and put it on his head, allowing it to cover the trademark scar on his forehead.
Harry then stared out the window while Vernon drove to London. He found himself thinking back to that eventful day three years previously.
Harry found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him from Dudley's gang. They were entertaining their favorite pastime of Harry Hunting. He was faster than most of Dudley's gang, including Dudley himself. Unfortunately, they also had a tendency to chase him down on their bikes. They'd take their time with it too.
Harry leapt over a park bench and made his way through the playground, desperately trying to get away from Dudley and his gang. Dudley was usually with them and he managed to keep them from going too far with Harry. But sometimes, like today when Dudley was sick, they were left to act by themselves. It was these times that he really got hurt.
A loud caw caught his attention and he looked up to see a crow flying low overhead, circling around Harry like a messenger of some sort. Harry swallowed, desperately hoping that it wasn't the messenger he was thinking of.
But because he was paying attention to the crow, he ended up bumping into a stranger, getting knocked over. He heard the tires screech and brake to a halt as Dudley's gang came up on him. They must have gotten tired.
The fluttering of a crow's wings brought Harry's attention to the stranger he had bumped into. It was a broad shouldered man that wore a three piece business suit. His hair was jet black and slicked back from his face. He had just a hint of stubble on his jaw and he had dark brown eyes. All in all, he looked completely normal if only rich. Except, the crow was sitting on his shoulder, looking down at Harry.
"Hey Mister," one of Dudley's goons said moving up. "That Freak bothering you?"
The man glanced down to Harry for a moment before he glanced up to the gang of eight year olds on bikes. "Children like yourselves should go play." The man said in a deep gravely voice.
The group glanced about themselves before they moved away, not wanting to get in trouble with an adult.
The man sat down on a park bench and hauled Harry up by the back of his shirt. Harry was sat down beside the man. "There we go little one, no harm, no foul. Tell me, why do they call you a Freak?" He asked.
Harry bowed his head, sure that his answer would cause this man to give him problems. "I make things happen. Strange things that can't be explained and I don't know how." Harry said.
The crow gave a loud caw and the man looked thoughtful. "So you are gifted." He said. He glanced to the crow that cawed again. "If you're sure?" he nodded to himself. "Tell me little one, how would you like to take care of Dust here?" he asked petting the crow on its head. "He's in need of a good home and he says you would be best for him."
Harry glanced up to the crow and while he knew Uncle Vernon would not allow him to keep Dust the Crow, he nodded anyways. He smiled slightly as he felt the crow fly over to his shoulder.
"I need to go now." The man said and stood up, heading off.
Once out of sight, no one saw the man turn to ashes that blew away with the wind.
That day, Dust became Harry's familiar and the crow explained… well everything really. It was a lot to take in until the crow, hearable only to Harry, had gone to great lengths to offer Harry proof of who , and what he was.
That day, Harry became a Wizard, even if only a fledging one. But he also became Death, tasked by a Higher Power to bring about balance once more. But Dust had been quite adamant to the young Avatar of Death. He could not find his three siblings until he found his trusty pale horse, Despair.
It was also that day that the status quo changed around the Dursley household. Harry was no longer a slave and would no longer be beaten. He got the small bedroom. He was treated as a house guest. An unwanted house guest, but a house guest nonetheless.
And in return?
"Turn here." Harry said and Vernon turned at the street ahead. "Two spots ahead to the left." Vernon pulled into a spot. Harry got out of the car and Dust soon fluttered down onto his shoulder. Harry moved around with his rucksack to look in on Vernon.
"Well where is it boy?" Vernon asked, glancing around.
"Don't worry about it Vernon. As per our agreement for the last three years however, I will never darken your doorstep without being asked again of my own free will, this I swear to you. I will not initiate contact with you, or your family, of my own free will, this I also swear to you." Harry reached up and plucked a feather from Dust and passed it off to Vernon. "If I return to your home, assume that it is not of my own volition. I wish for you to burn that. It will call Dust and direct him to me. I will then leave again." Harry watched as Vernon took the black feather with a red tip. "Good-bye Vernon. You were never family, and your home was never my home, but you are a respectable businessman, I will give you that much." Harry turned on his heel and headed into the Leaky Cauldron, leaving Vernon to drive off to work.
Harry tugged the ball cap a little lower before heading inside. Immediately he was assaulted by the smell of burning wax, ale, burning wood, and cooking breakfast. It smelled how an old fashioned tavern would probably smell. Though he was thankful for the distinct lack of smells of bodily fluids.
Harry shifted around the crowds carefully, not wanting his cap to be knocked off his head. He kept one hand on the bill and his head bowed slowly. He made his way to the barman. "Excuse me sir," Harry said adding a touch of meekness to his voice.
The barman glanced up and smiled seeing the young child. "How can I help ya Lad?" he asked.
Harry swallowed for effect. Dust had told him that by acting innocent would likely endear him to most witches and wizards. "I received my Hogwarts letter, but my guardians are non-magical folk, so I don't know how to get into the Alley to get my supplies."
The barman nodded softly. "Come along then." He told Harry and led him around to the entrance. "Three up, two across." He said tapping the bricks in order with the butt of his wand so it didn't open. "D'ya get that Lad?"
Harry nodded softly. "Three up, two across." He repeated, tapping the bricks in order with his finger, though he made a show of jumping to touch those at the top.
The barman then tapped the bricks with his wand properly. Harry was the left alone as the Gateway to Diagon Alley was opened up. He stepped inside, once more holding onto the bill of his cap and the strap to his rucksack. Dust even pulled traitor on him from the crowd, flying above it all straight down the Alley.
Harry made his way through the throng of people. There was some pushing and shoving and it was a slow effort to get down towards the tall marble building at the end of the main alleyway. He glanced up to the warning on the front of Gringotts.
"Traitor." He said to Dust as the crow landed on his shoulder. It responded with a caw.
Harry then stepped into the bank. There was on Teller open and another Wizard was languidly making his way to it. Harry strode powerfully towards the Goblin. Not running, but walking with long powerful and confident strides. Or at least, as powerfully as his eleven year old body could muster. He made it first and he held his hands behind his back while the teller worked on some parchment.
"May I help you?" The goblin asked sounding notably disinterested.
"Perhaps you can." Harry said simply. "I would like to speak with the Potter Family Account Manager at his earliest convenience."
"Name." The goblin said, getting another piece of parchment.
"No." Harry said simply and politely, or as politely as he could muster. "Names have power Master Goblin, especially with Magic."
The Goblin glanced up at Harry at these words and a slow smirk graced his mouth. It was quite unnerving to see a Goblin smirk. "Well said young Wizard. Very few remember that rule." He stamped the parchment and put it into an oaken box that gave a ding. "Unless you have more business to attend, you will need to wait for the Potter Family Account Manager."
Harry inclined his head respectfully before he turned on his heel and strode away from the teller to sit down.
Harry drew a book out and began to read it as he waited. He wasn't sure exactly how much time passed between when he sat down and a Goblin was standing in front of him. "This way." The Goblin said, prodding his leg to get his attention.
Harry rose and tucked the book back into his rucksack and followed the Goblin. He was led into an office that had a bookshelf on one side and a set of armor on the other. In the middle was an ornate desk that the Goblin took a seat behind, clasping his long fingered hands together. "Have a seat."
Harry sat down across from the Goblin that seemed to bore into him with strangely green eyes. Harry didn't say a word, knowing the Goblin was looking for something, but Harry wasn't going to give it his name either.
Like he told the Goblin out front, Names held power.
"I am the Potter Family Account Manager Rotgut, Battle Chief of Clan Rot, and Head of the Finance Division of Gringotts Goblin Bank." The Goblin said after a long moment of silence.
Harry dipped his head, acknowledging that the Goblin had given his name and title. "I am Harry James Potter, Scion of House Potter, and the Avatar of Death." He offered in return. It was often a sign of equality, and failing to give your name and title to someone who had just done so was a sign of grave insult.
The Goblin's face went through a myriad of emotions before finally setting on stoicism. "How can I help you Mr. Potter?"
"I'm surprised you took me at my word Master Rotgut." Harry said. "I was expecting some sort of ritual that would identify me."
"If you are brave enough to call yourself the Pale Rider, then I have no doubt in my mind you are who you say you are. I am old enough to remember the previous Pale one. He would have gutted you where you sit before the wards around Gringotts were even alerted to his arrival." Rotgut said quite seriously as he shifted some parchments on his desk to get to things a bit better.
Harry nodded slowly. He had not known that about the previous Rider, which meant he had quite the name to live up to. "I would like to get the Potter Vaults moving once more, the businesses booming and back under the control of the Potter Family. I also do not have a key to any of my vaults, and I would be willing to pay to have copies made and the previous set destroyed."
"We at Gringotts can help you with that Mr. Potter. However, I would like to iterate that since you are under the age of Majority and have not been emancipated, you can only access your Trust vault for funds necessary to shopping." Rotgut explained, working with a quill and parchment, jotting down what Harry wanted.
"Has my Hogwarts Tuition already come out of the Trust Vault?" Harry asked curiously.
Rotgut wrote down some information on a parchment and deposited it into a black wooden box. It took but a moment before there was a soft ding and a smoking piece of parchment was shot back out. Rotgut grabbed it and opened it. "Indeed, it was taken out just a week ago." There was a second ding and another sheet of parchment shot out. Rotgut grabbed them. "Wait a moment…" Rotgut's tone took a far more dangerous tone.
"What seems to be the problem?" Harry asked curiously. If this goblin was going to be in charge of his finances, he needed to talk with it about any problems in his finances.
"A thief is the problem Mr. Potter, however that oversight will be rectified before you leave my office." Rotgut said, scribbling some information down on some more parchment. He then deposited it into the box and it gave a ding. "Your parents paid for all seven years of your Hogwarts Tuition before their untimely demise Mr. Potter. You are being refunded the tuition taken out a week ago."
Harry nodded slowly at Rotgut's explanation. "Is there anything I need to do?" he asked.
"No Mr. Potter, there is not." Rotgut then caught a parcel that ejected from the box. He tore it open. "I shall hold onto the main vault key for the time being Mr. Potter." Rotgut held up the ornate golden key and put it into a box. "Please press your thumb on the lock."
Harry pressed his thumb to it and gave barely a sound as his thumb was cut. He heard the lock click into place and soon Rotgut placed it on one of the shelves. "Not even every Goblin and Human in Gringotts' employ could open that box without your blood Mr. Potter, and it won't leave this office." The goblin explained. Then he moved back to his desk and passed Harry a bronze key. "That is the key to your trust vault."
Harry glanced to the key as he picked it up. He was thinking. "When does my trust vault refill from the main vault?" he asked curiously.
"Once a year Mr. Potter."
Harry glanced to Rotgut. "I would like to withdraw everything down to five Knuts and then transfer it into another vault, I also ask that any spare key tied to the trust vault be kept active. I want those trying to steal from my vault know that I know they are stealing from my vault. I'd say keep the keys active for six months before destroying the spare keys."
"I take it that you wish to continue this transfer of money from the trust vault to this spare vault annually Mr. Potter?" Rotgut asked, jotting more information down on his slip of parchment.
"Yes, I would Master Rotgut. I know that Trust vaults have a maximum amount they're allowed to carry. In the case I need to access more money than my trust vault allows, I am... well out of luck." Harry said.
Rotgut pulled another parchment and quill from his desk and handed it to Harry. "Sign here, here, and initial here and here." Rotgut marked the spots with his quill.
Harry accepted the self-inking quill and did as asked, signing where necessary and initialing where necessary. He then handed that back to Rotgut who put it into the box on his desk. A rumble occurred before a key shot out. Rotgut then passed that to Harry.
"The vault of Harry James Potter has a current balance of Five thousand galleons, with the reduction of Five Knuts that's to remain in the Trust Vault." Rotgut said.
Harry nodded and stood up. "Then I best go get a withdraw, shouldn't I?" he asked.
The goblin stood up and nodded. "A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Potter. You have a sharp mind, I look forward to seeing the business ventures you make. I will forward the paperwork to you later to get all the Potter holdings out of stasis. It will take roughly a year to make it happen."
Harry nodded and turned on his heel to walk out. Rotgut was very good, because by the time Harry made it to the main area of Gringotts, another Goblin was waiting to take Harry down into the mines.
Harry stopped at his personal vault and withdrew five hundred Galleons. He counted each and every one of them as he placed them into the bag that held count of them. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Goblin enchantment, he wasn't going to put it past the Goblins to have a Galleon or two… slip. After all, Goblins were in the business of making money.
Harry then took a stack of ten galleons and handed it to the Goblin. "I need you to take me deeper."
The Goblin held the stack of ten galleons, shifting them in its hand as it watched the door to the vault lock. "Why and where?" he asked.
"I'll tell you which way it is." Harry told the Goblin. "As for Why… I feel something… something I can't properly explain."
"No skin off my back." The Goblin said before getting in the cart. That phrase was quite literal with the Goblins. Still, the Goblin followed Harry's direction, even going through the enchantments to dispel disguises.
Harry heard Dust caw a warning. Harry gently petted its head feeling the bone dry feathers. "I know." He told Dust softly. "Patience." Dust hated being underground. But Dust was feeling the darkness that Harry was.
It was Death Magic in its ugliest form.
Harry told the Goblin to stop and got out of the cart. He strode forward until he could glance ahead. He saw the dragon guarding the vault and narrowed his eyes. He could produce an Aura that gave anything captured in it a fright. But he wasn't sure if he was powerful enough to do it to a dragon.
"Any closer and I'd have to consider you attempting to steal something from that vault." The Goblin just behind Harry mentioned. "And that would not be a pretty thing."
"I feel something from that vault Master Goblin." Harry said respectfully, turning to look at the Goblin. "Some dark and ugly magic."
"Unless you can identify it exactly, I'm afraid there is nothing we at Gringotts can do about it." The Goblin said. "There is a very specific list of objects we will not hold; everything else, no matter how dark, can and will be kept safe by Gringotts Bank."
Harry glanced back at the vault in question. He could not identify the magic of the object. He didn't know what it was, just that it was unnatural and connected to death in some way. "Then let us be on our way Master Goblin." Harry said moving towards the mine cart.
It wasn't long before Harry was outside of the bank, his cap back in place as he began to walk around the Alley, glancing at all the different stores. Finally, he made his way into the Post Office. He sent his reply with his intent to go to Hogwarts off before moving on.
First things first, he needed a wand.
Olivander's seemed to be the stop. Inside, he headed to the counter and lightly rang the bell. While he waited, he stroked Dust's back a bit, thinking intently.
"Ah yes, Mr. Potter, I thought I might someday see you." Harry's attention was drawn to a white haired wizard. "I remember your mother and father buying their first wands. Your mothers was Willow with a Unicorn hair, swishy… It was good for charm work." The man began to draw boxes from the shelves, placing them on the counter. "Your father on the other hand had Mahogany with a Dragon Heartstring Core. Flexible but sturdy, good for Transfiguration."
"You must be Olivander." Harry said, crossing his arms slowly.
"I am." The white haired wizard said, looking over Harry's appearance. "And you Mr. Potter, like your parents before you, will undoubtedly be a challenge. Your father must have been in here for three hours trying wands before we found one that liked him. Your mother on the other hand, I admit, was mostly my fault. She told me the wand that called to her at the very beginning. I had her try wands for an hour and a half before she grabbed the one that was right and practically shoved its acceptance in my face." The old man gave a wry grin. "I had hoped to recruit her as an apprentice, alas the Unspeakables got to her first.
"Let us begin Mr. Potter. Your handsome raven will need to remove itself from your shoulder." Olivander then tapped his wand on measuring tape. Immediately, it sprang to life and started to measure Harry's form while Olivander jotted down notes.
Olivander then stopped the out of control tape measure when it tried to measure the distance between Harry's pupils.
"Ash with Unicorn hair, sturdy." The wand maker passed the wand to Harry. "No!" he said taking it back almost as soon as Harry had touched it. "Most certainly not." He passed another. "Cherry with Dragon Heartstring." Once more he passed a wand to Harry only for it to be plucked away.
Harry couldn't help but be amused the longer it went on. It seemed Olivander was having more and more fun the longer it was going on. Even going so far as to jump onto the ladder and letting it slide with him down the shelves.
"I wonder…" The old man said after about thirty minutes. Olivander bent down to a shelf and dug out a black box coming forward with it.
"No." Harry said staring at the box. Something nagged him in the back of his mind. He could not touch that wand under any circumstances. No other wand would accept him if he did.
"Nonsense Mr. Potter, just give it a try." Olivander said, opening the box. "Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches. Sturdy, good at Defense."
"No." Harry said a little more forcefully, making no move to touch the wand. Dust cawed angrily, moving to Harry's shoulder once more. "It would fit me, I have no doubt in my mind about that… but it's like… It would not be right." Harry said, trying to explain.
Olivander looked curious. "No? Well then…" Olivander snapped the box shut and tucked it away. The old man looked curious for a while, looking over Harry's measurements. "I do have… one wand Mr. Potter." Olivander said slowly. "But it's… origins are a bit grim."
Harry nodded slowly. "Go on." He said politely.
"Wands are a good connotation to what a wizard is like." Olivander said, drawing up a stool and sitting on it. "Dragon Heartstring, Unicorn Hair, and Phoenix feather cores are largely regarded as the Big three. They have a connection to life in some way. You have been rejected by every one of those cores, and you have a Crow on your shoulder. This Mr. Potter, tells me that there is something about you that would require me to look in the opposite direction." Olivander then drew a lacquered black box from under the counter and set it on the counter between them
"I do not like this wand one bit." Olivander opened the lacquered box to show off an ivory white wand about ten and a half inches in length. "But as a wand maker, I cannot bring myself to simply break a wand just because of its origins. Yew, ten and three fifths inches, Thestral hair wound around a Nightmare feather."
"Nightmares are extinct." Harry said. The horse of the Wild Hunts, it was said to see a Nightmare was to see Death and be forced into the Wild Hunt. The Clergy had tried to hunt them down to extinction with entire battalions of Wizards trained to fight in the name of God. No one had seen a living Nightmare in centuries.
"Indeed they are Mr. Potter, but on occasion, in a place of strong natural magic quite unlike what you will find here in the Alley or at Hogwarts, you can find a Nightmare's corpse still trying to rot away. I have seen the phenomenon twice in my life, and both times it felt as though I had ten years shaved off my life. This wand came into my possession some time ago from an estate sale, so I do not know who made it, though I would guess someone of my line given the craftsmanship. There are a few differences to what I do, but that could just be because of techniques learned over the generations." Olivander said.
Harry looked to Olivander for a moment before he reached out and took the wand in his hand. A coolness rushed up his arm It felt like a key fitting into a lock and clicking it open. A feeling of ice rushed along his veins, but he didn't feel disturbed by it. In fact, it felt glorious, like he was complete.
It was perfect. It felt right.
"That will be twenty Galleons Mr. Potter." Olivander said told Harry politely. He knew that the wand had accepted the wizard, and the wizard the wand.
Harry didn't even think twice about forking over the money.
Before Harry left, he put his cap back on and headed out, not taking it off again while he went about the work of getting the rest of his school supplies. He had grown tired of the crowds so he began to use his Aura to give a general uneasiness around him. Nothing major, but people just generally moved away from him.
Finally, at the end of the day he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. While not the finest of accomodations, Harry wasn't going to decline it either. "Excuse me Sir," Harry said in his meek persona while approaching the barman. He had turned off his aura now. "Could I get a room until September the First?"
The barman looked up from his duties and seemed to recognize Harry once again. "Why d'ya need that Lad? Surely ya can go back to ya guardians."
Harry shuffled his feet and dipped his head low. "Well, sir, they… they don't like me much. And I try not to inconvenience them in any way and having to drive all the way back out to London to come pick me up and then to drive all the way back out here the day before would make them angry with me." He mumbled.
"Alright Lad, I can help ya. The name is Tom. It'll be ten Galleons a week, plus an additional two galleons per meal. If ya can't cover it, ya can help me with the cookin' and the dish washin'. Deal?"
"Deal!" Harry said with mock enthusiasm. He should be given an award for his acting. He counted out the Galleons for the stay and paid it all up front. It would leave him just enough of the original five hundred that he pulled out of the bank to go looking for an Owl the next day.
Tom handed a key to Harry and motioned him off, something Harry was all too eager to do. He had an important task ahead of him in life and he couldn't be burdened with having to practice spells, so he wanted to get a jump start on it.
He had to find the other three Riders.
A/N: so Uh.. yeah, just throwing this story out there. Not sure what to expect from it just yet
Yeah, I know it's your standard Independent!Harry story, but I at least got the cliché Gringotts and shopping trip out of the way right off the bat.
Hogwarts Express next chapter! Will Harry make alliances?