I might have nowhere left to go

But I know that I cannot go home

These words are strapped inside my head

Telling me to run before I'm dead

Chase the rainbows in my mind

And I will try to stay alive

Chapter 2: Leaving – Diagon Alley, Part I

Surprisingly, the twins didn't have to walk long. Down on Magnolia Crescent, in the eves of a holly tree, there was a large barn owl. It was already awake and looking at them, which the twins found odd, as owls usually slept during the daytime.

"Um…" Harry began, looked around to make sure no one was nearby. "Er – can you carry letters, then?"

The owl eyed them carefully, then fluttered down to a lower branch. It hooted loudly, and stuck out its leg.

The twins took this as a yes.

"Okay, one second," said Heather, sitting down with the paper and pen. Harry sat as well and began pulling a long thread out of his sweater to use to tie the letter to the bird's leg. The owl hooted again in answer and lowered its leg, fluffing its feathers a bit.

Heather was very careful to write neatly, check her spelling, and remember her grammar. When she was done, she passed the letter to her brother for approval:

Dear Professor Minerva McGonagall,

We would be very happy to attend Hogwarts, but we have a few concerns. Firstly, how much does tuition cost, or is it free to witches and wizards? Secondly, could you please tell us what the everyday dress code for students is, so that we know what to pack? We saw the robes listed on the supply list; are those worn all the time, just during classes, or only on special occasions? Last, where is Hogwarts located? Is there a sort of Wizard's school bus to take us there? Is so, where do we meet it?

Please answer at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your response,

Harry and Heather Potter

"Great job," said Harry approvingly, and they stood up and stepped towards the tree. The owl obediently put out its leg again, and Heather folded the letter and held it carefully while Harry tied it securely, making sure it was neither too tight nor too loose, and wouldn't come undone mid-flight.

The owl stared at them when they were finished.

"Oh!" Harry said, "Um, we need you to take it to a woman called Minerva McGonagall. She might be at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I'm not sure where that is or the address so maybe – hey!"

The owl had taken off.

Heather shrugged, "I guess he knows where it is."

"I hope so," said Harry, and they began the walk back to number four.

That day was, by far, the best of Harry and Heather's lives to date.

When they arrived back home – mercifully, they would not be forced to call it by that name much longer – the Dursleys had finished cleaning up and fixing breakfast. The door was propped up in place – apparently the children had managed to break the hinges clean in half, and a repair man was coming to replace it (there was a large dent in it as well, after all, from Vernon's rotund figure smashing into it). The Dursleys had wisely told the repair company (and the neighbours) that Vernon had fallen down the stairs that morning, which accounted for his aching, colourfully bruised back as well.

The twins didn't feel the least bit guilty about hurting him. After all, the Dursleys had done much, much worse things to them in the past, and Vernon was a grown man, anyway. He could certainly survive a little back ache if the twins could survive being beaten and starved and worse since they were toddlers.

Petunia had laid all the pictures that had been knocked off the stairwell on the coffee table in the living room, and was planning to replace the glass and the frames that were broken later. The stairs themselves had been swept and then thoroughly vacuumed, but the Dursleys had elected to wear shoes about for the next few days until their appointment to get them professionally cleaned. Apparently, Uncle Vernon had knocked down the pictures while falling down the stairs as well. The neighbours were very concerned about him, and several sent fruit baskets or flowers. One man down at number thirty, who was a masseuse, had even offered to adjust Vernon's back for him later that day.

Harry and Heather had been extraordinarily amused to find the three Dursleys sitting ramrod-straight in their chairs, five places set instead of the usual four (because, if the twins ate at all, Harry and Heather usually had to share a seat and a plate, supposedly so as not to throw off the balance of Petunia's precious table), and a very large breakfast which included toast, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, eggs, sausage, bacon, and Yorkshire pudding. The Dursleys had not even filled their own plates yet – not even Dudley – and didn't begin to until the twins sat down and started to grab some food.

Dudley didn't ask to turn on the television, and Vernon and Petunia didn't gossip about the neighbours like they usually did. However, Harry and Heather couldn't stop talking.

"What do you think wands are made of?" asked Harry while he poured ketchup – something they usually weren't allowed – on his eggs. "Because I'm pretty sure I've picked up some sticks before, and I don't remember them doing anything magic-ish."

Heather shrugged.

"Maybe wands aren't made of wood," she said, slathering two kinds of marmalade on her second piece of toast, "Or maybe they're made from a special kind of wood. What classes do you think we'll take?"

"I don't know," said Harry, "Maybe we should have asked in the letter…"

"Nah, I'm sure we can ask at that wizard place, what was it…oh, right, Diagon Alley." Heather said, not willing to wait for another letter to arrive. "And we might be able to guess a few when we look over the supply list. Maybe we can find a book about Hogwarts also."

"Oh yeah, good idea," her brother said. The twins did not miss the fact that Uncle Vernon's hands were shaking on his silverware – probably from hearing all the horrible freaky words, like 'magic' and 'wand' and 'Hogwarts'. "I wonder if we're in any books? Albus Dumbledore's letter said that our parents were murdered and that one of us survived some kind of curse…wouldn't they, I dunno…put that in a Wizarding newspaper or something?"

"I guess so – I mean, I'm sure it was a big deal," Heather agreed, noticing that her aunt was continually raising and lowering her teacup without taking a sip. "Or maybe that sort of thing just happens all the time in the Wizarding World?"

"I hope not," Harry said, "But there was that book on the list – The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. So maybe it's a common thing? Or maybe that's just a basic self-defence course? It could be to protect witches and wizards from their kind." He was excited to be able to throw that phrase back at Petunia and Vernon. He shot a dark look at the Dursley's, and Petunia's hand shook so much that tea spilled over the rim of her cup.

"Hmm," said Heather thoughtfully.

-The Reply--

An hour later found Harry and Heather in their room, packing up their meagre possessions. They relieved the Dursleys of two old canvas bags, one brown and one something that looked formerly purple, and a yellow rucksack with a string tie. They had considered using their old school backpacks, but since they had had the same ones since they were five and they were ripped and torn nearly everywhere, they abandoned the book bags as hopeless. The thought of taking the Dursleys nicest suitcases was tempting, but they planned to buy their own as soon as they could – they had their own bank vault after all; surely they could afford new luggage, or even just used pieces – so they deemed it unnecessary. They planned to dispose of all the things the Dursleys had 'given' them at the first possible opportunity. This part of their life was ending, and they wanted no reminders of the past nine years.

Their clothes were easy to pack away, since they only had seven shirts, four pairs of pants, and four pairs of shoes total, plus one jacket each. They changed into their least horrible clothes – Harry's was a dark grey shirt that may have once been white and went nearly to his knees, some jean trousers so torn and covered in dust they could have been mistaken for an old potato sack, and his blue and white trainers. Heather wore a brownish-grey shirt and a pair of trousers that may have also been white once, and a pair of pink-and-white trainers the Dursley's had found on the side of the road. Everything they owned, except for Heather's pink roadside trainers and her jacket (which her aunt had found in a chest of her childhood things), were hand-me-downs from their cousin, only given to them when he had worn and dirtied them nearly to pieces. If something he no longer fitted into or liked was deemed 'too good' for the twins, their aunt and uncle donated it instead. They were considered very charitable people in Little Whinging.

The excuse given for their niece and nephews clothing was that they dirtied and ripped them on purpose, just to spite their poor, kind family. After all, the Dursleys couldn't let it be public knowledge that they made the children wear such nasty clothes. Let it never be said that the Dursleys weren't clever, however. They always knew just the right people to tell so that, if the twins tried to report their horrible actions to a teacher or police man, it was usually laughed off as them stirring up trouble, and they were lucky if they didn't get punished for it.

The twins debated on taking showers for a spell, but they didn't want to miss the owl when he came back and end up spending a second longer in Privet Drive than they had to.

And it was lucky they decided not to, because as soon as they took their bags downstairs, there was a pecking sound from the living room window.

They heard Petunia scream, and darted through the hall.

The Dursleys were in the living room, all squashed together on the couch, with the television turned down low. At the window was the same large owl who had taken their letter little more than two hours before.

The twins ran to the window and threw it open, and the owl fluttered in, dropped a letter on Uncle Vernon's head, pooped in the middle of Petunia's beautiful crème Berber carpet, darted around Dudley's head in a close circle, causing the boy to scream and throw himself onto the floor, and then flew into the kitchen and began eating all the leftover bacon.

Harry and Heather hadn't before known that it was possible to fall in love with a bird.

"Help yourself to all the leftovers," Heather told the owl when he paused and looked up at her, as if making sure he was allowed to finish off all the food. Heather looked slyly at Aunt Petunia out of the corner of her eye. "I'm sure no one will mind."

The owl gave what may have been a nod, and set upon eating the leftover meat and toast and vegetables from all over the table, occasionally swivelling his head all the way around backwards to glare – that was the only word for it – at Dudley, who whimpered aloud each time.

Quickly, Harry and Heather opened the parchment envelope, which was addressed simply with their names in dark blue ink, and read:

Dear Mr and Miss Potter,

Thank you for your polite acceptance. We were beginning to worry that we wouldn't hear from you. I would be happy to give you all the information you need, and if you need any assistance or have any more questions, please do contact us again.

Your tuitions are covered already, as your parents paid them in full at the time of your birth. The dress code for students is not usually explicitly stated, but students are expected to wear appropriate, clean clothing that they would wear to any Muggle primary school when classes are not in session (Muggles, by the by, are what we call non-magical individuals, in case your aunt and uncle haven't mentioned that to you). During the day when classes are in session, students wear the robes mentioned in your letter, and after class or on holidays and during special events, the pointed black hat is worn. There is a uniform worn under robes which will be given to you by whomever you choose to buy your robes from. As for your last questions, Hogwarts is located in a secure area of Scotland. A train, called the Hogwarts Express, takes all the students to school on September First. It leaves from King's Cross station at eleven o'clock exactly. You should be able to purchase tickets at Diagon Alley, but if you have any trouble you may send me another letter and I will secure some for you.

We look forward to seeing you soon,

Professor M. McGonagall

The twins grinned at one another, feeling like balloons of happiness were inflating in their chests. Hogwarts was really real. Until this moment, they had still been a little uncertain, but here was the proof. They were really going to move out of the Dursleys' home. They were really going to buy wands and spell books and robes. They were really going to a magic school to meet other children like them.

They were really free.

The Dursleys nearly ran to the door when Harry and Heather told them they needed to be taken to Charring Cross Road in London. Obviously, they were anxious to be rid of them. It was alright; the twins felt the exact same way.

They loaded their bags into the trunk, and Dudley squeezed in between his parents in the front seat, apparently not wishing to be alone in the back with Harry and Heather, which they were thrilled with. They had a lot of space in the back when it was just the two of them, and sat munching crisps and candy bars they had grabbed from the Dursleys pantry (Uncle Vernon never allowed eating in his lovely new car, not even by Dudley, but at this point that was the least of his concerns). They read the two letters over and over again, and speculated about classes and what the Hogwarts school and train would look like.

It was only around the tenth re-read of their reply from Professor M. McGonagall that Harry realised something:

"Wait, Heather, look!" he said, stopping her rant about 'dragon hide', and if it was from actual dragons and, if so, if it was gathered ethically; did dragons shed their skin, or did wizards wait until they died to gather hides, or was it just an expression, and had nothing to really do with dragons? "Did you see this? 'Muggles, by the by, are what we call non-magical individuals, in case your aunt and uncle haven't mentioned that to you'. How did she – I mean, I assume 'Minerva' means she's a woman – how did she know we were with them?"

The children were delighted to talk about the Dursleys like they weren't there, as Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley had done so to them more often than they could count.

"Oh wow, I hadn't thought about that!" said Heather, picking up said letter and reading it again (even though they had both memorised it by now), "That's odd…well, I mean, apparently the guy who's headmaster is the one who placed us with them, so maybe he told her? Or maybe it's just common knowledge?"

"It could be that it was included in an article or something when our parents were killed," Harry agreed, nodding, "Like 'they are survived by their children, who now reside with their aunt and uncle' – like a eulogy or something."

"Good point," Heather agreed, nodding.

The ride to London seemed to take forever to the twins, but in reality it was only about a half hour with the minimal traffic on the roads. Soon they were at the start of Charring Cross Road, and the twins found themselves getting out of the car.

They got their things from the back and double-checked that they had their letters and their vault key, packing the rest of their snacks away – you never know when you'll need a quick snack – and then they stood on the sidewalk next to where the Dursleys sat in their car, unsure of what to say. The Dursleys were horrible, but it was true that they probably could have been worse, though that didn't justify or nullify how they had acted, and they were the only family the Potters had, besides themselves.

At least, they thought so.

"If they…if they come around, we'll tell them you're still there," said Petunia finally, breaking the silence. She swallowed hard and then stammered through her next sentence. "Um…just – I wanted to…if I could –if I'd known….your – I – I…just – good luck, Harry, Heather."

This was possibly the first time she had called them by name. Usually they were addressed as 'Potter' 'Freaks' 'Brats', and other such things – or, if they were lucky, simply 'the twins'. This was probably, altogether, the nicest thing Petunia – or, indeed, any of the Dursleys – had ever said to them.

"Thank you," said Harry and Heather, shocked but now genuine
(they could at least give Petunia that), and they stepped further onto the sidewalk. They looked at each other, then back to the Dursleys. They weren't going to let them leave first.

So the Potter twins turned on their heels and began to walk.

Soon, they located a record shop that was next to a book shop across the street from them, and remembered Professor Dumbledore's instructions to their aunt. They knew it was possible that this was just a coincidence, and not the right place, but they had to look, so they crossed the street. The closer they got to the other side, the more another building came into view – a building between those two, a building that hadn't been there before. It was a small, dingy-looking pub. The sign, reading The Leaky Cauldron, was half-broken, hanging lopsidedly and swaying slightly in the wind.

Harry and Heather shared a looked. They glanced around; was it their imaginations, or was no one really looking at the pub?

Cautiously, they pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It was a bit dark and shabby on the inside, and looked quite old, but it was welcoming in its own way. There were several people there, and Harry and Heather were delighted to see that they were wearing pointed hats and robes. A group of people in the corner were passing around a drink that appeared to be on fire, a woman near the counter with thick glasses that magnified her eyes hugely was drinking from a bottle of cooking sherry, several people were eating soup that seemed to be moving on its own, and an old, bald man was standing behind the counter polishing glasses with an already filthy rag.

"Well, they're witches and wizards," said Harry in a whisper, "But how do we get to Diagon Alley from here?"

"Do you suppose it's around the back?" asked Heather. "Or maybe downstairs?"

"There could be, like, a portal or something…"

Before they could decide what to do, however, the old barman noticed them.

"Hey!" he cried, darting out from behind the counter and shaking his dirty rag at them, "I don't know how you two got in here, but you shouldn't be!"

The twins were shocked for a moment, backing up just slightly in fear. Had they picked the wrong place? Was this the wrong pub? Perhaps they weren't allowed in here without adults, or maybe they needed to be with a fully grown wizard? Was he going to kick them out before they could even get their school things?

"No, you don't understand, see –" Harry began, but the man cut him off, trying to shuffle them back out through the door.

"Yes, I know, I know," he said, "You just want a bit to eat, I'm sure – well if the ministry finds out, they'll want to know how two Muggles could get in here, and I don't need the investigation, so you two just scurry along and –"

The twins quickly realised that he probably thought they were street children who had snuck in, due to their clothes. As the man continued to rant, the twins kept opening their mouths to get a word in and tell him what was going on but he didn't give them a moment to speak. Finally, the twins cracked.

"HEY!" yelled Heather, completely fed up. Everyone looked over at them, and the man froze. "If you would just listen then we could tell you we are supposed to be here. Look!"

She pulled out her Hogwarts letter and turned it towards him. The man's eyes widened.

"Oh – Oh!" he quickly lowered his dishrag. "I'm sorry about that, it's just that you looked – well anyway," he continued quickly at a glare from the children, flushing a bit, "Um…can I offer you a complementary pea soup?"

He gestured to the people eating lunch at the table. The twins shuddered. They were of the opinion that peas should never be forced into a soup, and that their food shouldn't move of its own accord – at least not when they were trying to eat it.

"No thanks," Harry said, "Can you just show us how to get to Diagon Alley?"

"Of course!" the man said quickly. He led them to the back door near the staircase and opened it. Outside was a small yard that was bare save for a rubbish bin, and closed in by a brick fence. The man pulled a stick out of his pocket and tapped a couple of the bricks on the wall across from the door, doing so in a seemingly random order.

The twins screamed as the bricks shuddered, then shook, then began to fold back in on themselves, parting until there was a large archway leading to a busy street – the most amazing street they had ever seen.

"There you are – Diagon Alley," said the man, gesturing grandly, "I'm Tom, by the way. Should have said so before. Anything else you two need?"

"Um – which way is Gringotts bank –?" Heather began.

"Just down at the end of the street," Tom interrupted, pointing, "Big white marble building, see?"

"Thanks," Harry said in a whisper. Neither of them could stop staring.

They began walking down the cobbled street, wishing they had about eight more eyes each – they wanted to look at the shops, the things in the shops, and the people doing their shopping, all at once.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible said a sign hanging over them. Outside one shop was a group of children staring at a display stand, which was advertising something called a Nimbus Two Thousand – a real flying broomstick. A tall man coming out of the shop was saying, "That much for a Comet? Must be off their heads…"

A low, soft hooting sound came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, and Snowy. There were shops selling robes, shops selling strange instruments Harry and Heather had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon –

And then they stopped. The twins had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops, the tallest of which was probably around five floors, tiny when compared to what looked like a dozen marble floors that were leaning slightly to the left. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a creature about a head shorter than the Potters, with a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard, and very long fingers and feet.

"What do you suppose it is?" Harry hissed to his sister.

"I dunno," she whispered back. "Maybe a – a gnome? Or a dwarf? Those could be real, right?"

"I don't see why not," Harry said nervously as they began to approach the building. The children were worried that the creature might try and stop them from coming in, like Tom the Barman had, but he just bowed them inside, and now they faced another pair of doors, silver this time, with an inscription written upon them:

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.

Harry and Heather looked at one another and swallowed heavily. That was quite a stern warning.

Another pair of the creatures who stood on either side of the silver door bowed them through as the first one had, and now they were in a vast marble hall, where about a hundred more beings were sitting on high stools behind long counters, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses, and talking to other witches and wizards. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and more maybe-gnomes-maybe-dwarves were showing people in and out of them.

As they stepped towards the counter, a woman holding onto a giggling child's arm rushed past them. They could hear her saying, "Merlin, Seamus, how many times do I have to tell you not to antagonise the goblins?!"

Harry and Heather looked at each other triumphantly. Goblins! The creatures were goblins! Thank goodness; they had not wanted to ask about something like that.

The twins took a deep breath. Harry took their tiny vault key out of his pocket. They stepped up to a free goblin, who glanced up from his book of numbers with a sigh.

"Can I help you?" he said.

"Yes, we need to make a – a withdrawal," said Harry, placing the key on the goblin's book, which he could hardly reach. He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

"And we would like to see an account balance, if we could." Heather added. She was glad they had learned about banking and how to balance check books and accounts the previous year in school.

The goblin picked up their key and examined it, then stared at them.

"You are the Potter children?" he said quietly.

"Yes." They said, moving to touch their arms together, wondering at his surprised-sounding tone and half thinking he would declare them impostors or something of the sort, or perhaps say they had stolen the key.

Instead, he closed his book with a loud THUD, and turned around, disappearing from view behind the tall counter.

"Come this way!" they heard him call, and Harry and Heather quickly ran around to the other side and followed him through a door. It led into a large, handsome office with two large arm chairs, a desk, some bookcases against the walls, a window that looked out over the rest of the street, and another, taller, chair behind the desk. The goblin gestured for them to sit in the armchairs, and went behind the desk himself. He snapped his fingers, and a scroll appeared out of thin air. The twins jumped.

"Let's see – well, you have a balance of about one million Galleons in your personal vault…"

Harry and Heather both gaped. They didn't know what Galleons were, but that sure sounded like a lot. The goblin apparently took their shock for confusion and clarified, "One Galleon is equal to about £4.97. There are also Sickles and Knuts. Seventeen silver Sickles to one gold galleon, and four hundred and ninety-three bronze nuts to a Sickle."

Heather counted on her fingers quickly, drew invisible figures in the air and added everything up carefully before she finally came to a conclusion.

"Wait – so you're saying that we have four million nine hundred and ten pounds worth of…wizard money?"

"Approximately," the goblin said, going back to his scroll. The twins felt rather faint. So much for worrying about getting a place to live!

"Now, traditionally personal vaults are not combined, unless one marries and chooses to do so, but your parents felt it would be easier this way. Personal vaults contain nothing but money, however your High Vaults and your Family Vaults, as well as your High Family Vault, are all still separate, though close together."

"Wait," said Harry, holding up his hand, "What's the difference between a High Vault and a Family Vault and a High Family Vault?"

"I mean, they all kinda sound the same…" agreed Heather, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Your Family Vault contains your parent's personal funds, and some of their belongings," the goblin explained patiently, "Your High Vault contains the funds of your entire family. All of the direct Potter line is deceased, save you two. Therefore, all the gold your grandparents, great-grandparents, great aunts and uncles, first cousins, and so on have collected over the years was put in the High Vault, and eventually handed down to you two." He shuffled some papers around. "Now, the High Family Vault is the oldest, most important, and most valuable of all your vaults. It contains no gold, but deeds to the many, many Potter properties, papers relating to all investments and business shares and stocks, magical artefacts like Pensieves and ancient Sneakoscopes and crystal balls, Heirloom Wands, family jewels, and other miscellaneous items."

Harry and Heather were staring, wide-eyed, at the goblin. They not only had millions, possibly billions of pounds of wizard gold in several different vaults in this bank, but they had magical devices and owned many properties and stocks. And who knew what else could be in that vault?

Harry and Heather's elbows touched on their armrests.

'We can do whatever we want in this world.'

'We can change everything if we choose.'

'Doesn't wealth always equal power?'

'I suppose.'

'And even if not, we have power too. Look at what we did to the Dursleys.'

'Ha ha. Good point.'

They looked at each other for several long moments. The goblin waited patiently. Then they both broke away, turned to the goblin, rested their elbows on his desk, and said, together, "Tell us more."