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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Harry had been shocked at the piles of gold in his vault. Just a day ago he could never have considered such a thing, never mind belonging to him. It was a ghost of his parents touching upon his life. He was also curious about what Dumbledore had retrieved from Gringotts but, between the dizzying revelations of the day, and how rude it would have been to ask, he stayed quiet. Dumbledore retrieved the parcel with a wink aimed at the boy, before dropping the key to his trust vault into Harry's hand, which he gripped like a lifeline.
Dumbledore had taken him to the alley and, after helping him purchase his schooling supplies and a beautiful snowy owl, had checked him into a room in a place called the Leaky Cauldron. Harry felt was an odd name for a place. Dumbledore had also made sure to scare away any wizards looking to meet Harry. The young wizard thought it was odd people wanted to meet him so badly, but he decided it might be smart to imitate Dumbledore and just ignore it.
He felt especially pleased to hold his wand. He often held it just to feel it in his palm, indulging in the sensation of the wood against his skin. A supple, eleven-inch branch of Holly, with a slightly carved handle and a phoenix feather core. He felt proud to hold it and it gave him a rush just to feel it's electric touch against his palm.
He was concerned about its brother, or rather, the owner of his wand's twin. Ollivander had called it curious but Dumbledore didn't seem at all surprised. Which Harry supposed made for a curious situation.
Dumbledore had recommended several books for Harry to purchase, alongside several sets of both wizarding and muggle clothing. Harry had taken Dumbledore's suggestions to heart. Harry, now in his room in the Leaky Cauldron, did not have much to do except read – unless he wanted to be ogled at by passersby in Diagon Alley, should he feel the desire to explore it – so he mostly stayed cooped up and read his new books, comfortably ensconced in his room where Tom would bring meals. They food was good too, and he felt warm sitting by the fire in his room.
He learned that he loved the smell of the burning logs. The Dursley's fireplace likely hadn't been lit since the building was constructed. Too messy, too much work. It was new, and therefore wonderful.
A few days into his stay, he received two books from Dumbledore, An Introductory Guide to the Mind Arts, and The Mind, The Maze for his Birthday. Harry had never received a present before in his life and he had to wipe away a few tears when he opened it.
Harry fell asleep holding it close to his chest.
Dumbledore had also delivered several potions. He had stated his concern that Harry had been malnourished and his growth had been discouraged by the Dursleys. His father was, Harry was told, taller and broader at his age than he was now. So, the potions were a means to correct his mistreatment under the Dursley's 'care'. They wouldn't make him buff, like the people from Dudley's television, but it would help him fill out and make him taller. Unless Dumbledore was wrong, and Harry was supposed to be this tall.
Harry doubted it. Dumbledore hadn't been wrong yet.
Dumbledore also gave him something for his sight, which was atrocious even with his glasses due to the poor prescription. It would seem that his constant war to keep his damaged glasses on his nose hadn't gone unnoticed by the professor.
Harry had sent Dumbledore a thank you, hoping beyond hope he was using his owl properly. He wasn't sure that he was, but it seemed innocuous enough even if he was doing it wrong.
After a few days he had finished several books meant to introduce muggleborn witches and wizards to the magical world. Touching on laws and expectations and unique customs which separated the worlds both literally, through the statute of secrecy, and metaphorically, through the differences in greetings and exclamations. Harry thought anyone who shouted things like 'Merlin's beard!' had to be at least a little odd.
Finally, he had received a ring as the head of the Potter family. It made sense, given he was the only survivor, who else could it be? Although, it didn't really let him do anything, nor access any vaults save his trust vault. The Potter family owned several properties which could now only be described as vacant lots. Voldemort had razed Potter Manor, the Scottish cottage and a French estate in his pursuit of Harry's parents.
Since then, he had been anxiously awaiting the day he would board that famous train. He had read multiple introductions to magical theory in the meantime, and the first several chapters of his school books. The theory seemed difficult to him. When he compared the manner he performed and thought of legilimency, to the way it was introduced in the book, it was vastly different. He could only hope that, in practice, magic would be easier than these books made it out to be. He understood the principles from his own experience. He had to desire something and push his will into it. The clearer he wanted it, and the more he tried, the more likely it was to work.
It seemed similar to the idea of intent and power for spells. Which he understood was important for transfiguration.
He hoped he would do well and the teachers would like him. He wanted to at least have that over his old school, even if he didn't think he would make any friends.
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