Harry Potter and the Silent Guardian

After spending two weeks recovering under the careful attention of Madam Cordelia Fawley, Harry Potter felt renewed and eager to explore a world that seemed both known and unknown to him.

His first task was straightforward – a trip to Gringotts, the wizarding world's bank, was necessary. He needed to see if there were any Potter family properties available for his use. If not, he might need to think about creating a secret place to live with the help of Mira, his dedicated house elf. Though Harry could also consider deserted houses hidden away in the wilderness, he preferred to stay away from such places for reasons of safety.

On the morning he planned to depart for Diagon Alley, Cordelia caught him carefully packing a small bag with all he might need for the day.

"Off to conquer the world, Harry?" Cordelia asked with a gentle smile, looking over the neatly packed items in his bag.

"Just Diagon Alley for now, Madam Fawley," Harry replied, his smile mirroring hers. "I need to check on the Potter properties and perhaps find a new place to live."

Cordelia had no reservations about letting the remarkably mature six-year-old navigate Diagon Alley by himself. During his stay, she had been impressed by his intelligence and maturity, far beyond his years. Understanding that her home, often visited by those seeking her healing skills, wasn't a long-term option for Harry, she agreed that finding a Potter property was the best course of action. With Mira, his loyal house-elf, by his side, Cordelia felt assured of his safety.

Expressing his deep gratitude to Madam Fawley, Harry promised to return for a follow-up visit. Accompanied by Mira, he first made a detour to a Muggle shop where he purchased a simple but effective disguise—a hat, glasses, and a hoodie. This modest ensemble, he hoped, would make him less conspicuous, allowing others to possibly mistake him for a small adult rather than a child.

Navigating through the bustling streets of London, Harry found the unassuming entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. To those unaware of its significance, it appeared nothing more than a dilapidated pub. But hidden within was the portal to Diagon Alley, the heart of the wizarding world's commercial district.

Harry was well aware that house elves typically didn't accompany their wizards in Diagon Alley, not openly at least. If house-elves needed to make purchases, they would pop directly into the shops. Wizards usually summoned their elves briefly to send their shopping home, avoiding keeping them by their side to maintain a low profile.

Given his unique situation of being technically in hiding, Harry was cautious not to attract undue attention. Already conspicuous as a young boy venturing alone, having Mira with him would only draw more eyes. Though Diagon Alley was relatively safe, Harry was mindful to steer clear of Knockturn Alley's dangers. Thus, he decided it was best for Mira to leave him at the entrance. She gave him the exact instructions to unlock the magical barrier at the Leaky Cauldron, ensuring he could proceed alone confidently.

As he stepped inside the dimly lit pub, he was met with the sight of a mix of witches and wizards chatting over their drinks. Harry made his way through the pub without drawing attention, heading straight to the secluded back courtyard. There, the ancient bricks of the rear wall awaited him. He picked up a rod lying near the wall and tapped the bricks in the precise sequence Mira had instructed.

The bricks began to quiver and shift, moving aside to reveal the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry's heart raced with excitement as he witnessed the bricks rearrange themselves, forming an archway that unveiled the bustling, magical street. It was a moment of pure magic, a stark contrast to the mundane world he had known for so long.

Stepping through the archway, Harry was greeted by the sights and sounds of Diagon Alley. It was a vibrant tapestry of shops and stalls, each offering an array of magical goods. The air was filled with the chatter of shoppers, the calls of vendors, and the occasional burst of laughter or spell. The cobblestone street wound ahead, lined with buildings that leaned and bulged in the most fantastical manners.

Harry's eyes widened in wonder as he took in his surroundings. Shop windows displayed broomsticks that hovered gracefully, cauldrons that bubbled with colorful potions, and owls that hooted softly from their cages. Harry felt a sense of belonging, a connection to this world that he hadn't realized he had missed.

As he walked down the street, absorbing the magical atmosphere, the grand edifice of Gringotts Bank came into view. The building stood tall and imposing at the end of Diagon Alley, its white marble and high columns exuding a sense of unyielding strength and security. Goblins of various statures moved in and out of the bank, some escorting clients, while others conversed in their guttural language.

Harry approached the bank with a mix of awe and nervous anticipation. Harry took a deep breath and stepped into the grand foyer of Gringotts. The interior was as magnificent as its exterior, with high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers. Goblins busied themselves behind tall desks, attending to the needs of the wizarding community.

With a determined stride, Harry approached one of the tellers. The goblin, perched on a high chair, peered down at him with sharp, calculating eyes. "State your business," it demanded in a gruff voice.

Harry cleared his throat. "Hadrian Ignotus Potter, here to see the Potter account manager, Barchoke," he said, trying to sound confident.

The goblin's eyes narrowed slightly, sizing up Harry with a scrutinizing glance that seemed to pierce through Harry's disguise. After a moment's pause, it beckoned a nearby clerk. "Take him to Barchoke," it instructed.

The clerk, a slightly younger goblin with keen eyes, gestured for Harry to follow. They navigated through a labyrinth of corridors, the sounds of the main hall fading into a hushed silence. Harry's sense of anticipation grew with each step.

They stopped before a heavy wooden door, marked with a brass plaque that read 'Barchoke, Potter Account Manager'. The clerk knocked sharply and a gruff voice from within called them in.