Harry planned on exhausting his magic like every other day since discovering his ability to cast spells, by casting a transfiguration. His target today, the trashcan. Today for sure he would transform something into a dragon. He pictured the large beast he found in one of the moving pictures from a book before releasing his magic. He watched as it began to elongate and grow scales.

He then watched as instead of growing and becoming the fierce dragon he imagined, it shrunk… then shrunk more.

He then just sat there confused.

Instead of the fierce dragon, there sat a tiny winged snake…

In a bout of frustration Harry lashed out at the stupid snake. Launching a small ball of fire in its direction. The snake quickly jumped out of the way, surprising Harry. What surprised him even more was it yelling at him.

$What is the meaning of thiss ssspeaker?!$

What do you do when your talking snake trashcan angrily demands your intentions for throwing fireballs at it?

“AHHH!” Harry was man enough to admit that he ran. However, would never admit to being the one responsible for the girly squealing that the surrounding neighbors heard.

He ran all the way back to the Dursleys and hopped into the briefcase, definitely NOT hiding under the covers. And promptly passing out due to both magical and physical exhaustion.

After waking up the next morning he swore to never mention this to anyone.

He had today already planned. Actually he planned on doing this for a long time but was always a little afraid.

In the library he found a journal, a diary really. That described a magical community and how to get there. The writer talked through her first time there and how amazing it was. She described all of the shops and items she discovered. The diary's owner, Lily Evans, made it seem like a fairytale.

Harry's main objective however was something else. Another book mentioned Gringotts, a magical bank run by goblins. The goblins apparently had some way to test someone and see if they had magical ancestors, if you did, you could potentially gain a magical inheritance from your family.

Harry had always wanted to know who his parents were. He was sure that Aunt Petunia was lying when she called his mother a street whore and father a no good drunk. She had the same glint in her eyes as when she would watch as Vernon whipped him with the belt. Harry recognized the look as one of malice, he knew she enjoyed watching him suffer due to the books he read on psychology.

If Harry managed to receive a magical inheritance, even a small one. He had a few other things he would like to do while in the magical world. With enough money he could get magical glasses and potions like Lily wrote about. Maybe he could get a cat or owl too.

While daydreaming, Harry went through his usual routine when his relatives were gone. Bathroom, shower, dress, teeth, breakfast, then finally setting out to the local bus stop. He traveled for half an hour on one bus before waiting another hour on another before the final bus took him to Charing Cross. Just like the diary told him, he found the dingy pub. He just sat there. Hesitant. This was his first step into a new world. He had dreamed of this since first reading the diary. Soon he would hopeful-

“Hey kid! Get out of the walkway!”

Right. A bit sheepish at being caught out like that he entered the Leaky Cauldron. A few glanced his way before going back to business. Most of the people here looked odd, the robes and hats of different styles were like the diary described but there were also the really odd ones. There was a man wearing a suit made entirely of tinfoil, a lady with what he could only assume were bike tires around her neck like necklaces… and the goldfish guy. He swore to never mention the goldfish guy. He immediately stopped and located the memory of goldfish guy in his mind palace and tossed it into a vat of acid, then locked that vat in a vault, then tossed it into an active volcano just for good measure.

While attempting to destroy that memory for good, He caught the barman's eye. “You ok there kid? You're not alone are you?”

Shaking himself awake after his mind rebooted and recognizing that the man was indeed speaking to himself. “Yes sir, I… I um… may have been distracted walking around earlier and separated from my parents. They told me to come here if I ever got lost. I was then supposed to go to Diagon.”

The man's face softened. “It's alright, you did well finding your way here. How old are you, kid?”

“8!” Harry proudly exclaimed, appearing to like the praise and intentionally acting his age. “My birthday was just yesterday, my parents wanted to show me the muggle side now that I've grown up.” he ‘rambled’ showing his anxiety of being alone after losing his parents.

The barman held back a smirk “Well happy birthday young man. You aren't old enough for a wand so I'll help you open the passage, just give me a few. Wouldn't want to leave the counter unmanned while some of these ruffians are about.” he said rather loudly, winking at the obviously eavesdropping and inebriated wizards nearby.

Harry was glad that he remembered his excuse, now he just needed to get to Gringotts.

It took a couple more minutes since the barman had to serve a few more customers. But he soon ushered Harry to the brick wall Lily wrote about in her diary. He even tapped the same bricks with his wand. He then said something and patted Harry on the back, hard enough that Harry stumbled a bit. Harry didn't even notice. Still gazing almost reverently at the beauty of the magic happening. “Welcome to Diagon alley'' Harry whispered to himself.

After the path into Diagon Alley was opened, Harry couldn't help but stare. Owls and paper airplanes flying about, landing on passersby. Witches and Wizards dressed in all sorts of unusual clothing. Buildings seeming to defy gravity, leaning far too much. Not to mention the sheer weight of the place, it felt like the air here was heavier. Everything around seemed somehow more… real.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

A loud screech from one of the owls brought him back to the present. Glancing around he noticed he REALLY stood out. All of these people dressed oddly while he was one of the only ones dressed somewhat normally. He needed a way to blend in. First he needed money to buy anything here, so he made his way to where the diary said Gringotts would be.

On his way he passed a number of odd shops. He found the shop for glasses that Lily mentioned, along with all of the others. The only thing he couldn't find was the one she said sold beds and chamber pots. Did the primary wizard shopping district in Britain really change so little in however long it has been since Lily first came here?

Knowing he would run out of time if he kept window shopping, he quickly arrived at Gringotts. The white stone building was one of the only places in the alley that seemed normal to him, minus the odd poetry near the door. Was that supposed to scare thieves away? Gawking at the sign he failed to notice the guards at the doors until they turned their heads to watch him. He definitely DIDN’T jump. Playing it off he nodded to the guard to his right, while moving into the bank.

The bank was well decorated with carvings but what really caught his eye was the creatures running the place. He thought Lily was exaggerating, calling them ugly. He couldn't really blame her after getting to see them in person. Most looked like they were balding, they all had numerous large wrinkles, and their teeth were menacing small pointy things.

He followed the surrounding wizards lead and joined a line to a teller. Passing time, he watched the other wizards and their awful behavior towards the goblins. He noticed how the lines with the rudest wizards in them seemed to move the slowest, and made a mental note to at least not act like them.

Looking around, there were only 2 witches in the bank. Again back to what Lily wrote, she said that women were looked down upon here. He figured that witches would have gained more status by now right? Lily didn't date any of the pages so He didn't know how long it's been since she wrote the diary but he knew the house he found it in must've been abandoned for ten years or so. He hoped that the new world he stepped into wasn't just as bad or worse as the one he was used to.

Harry finally made it to the teller. Finding his name off the nameplate at the front of the tellers podium. “Greetings teller Bonesmasher, I'd like to conduct an inheritance ritual. I'd also like to convert pounds to galleons.”

The teller paused for a moment. “Greetings young wizard, the conversion ratio is 5 pounds to one galleon. The inheritance ritual will cost 10. Do you still wish to continue?”

With an affirmative from Harry, the teller converted Harry's 100 pounds to a measly 20 galleons. That then dropped to 10 after paying for the ritual. Bonesmasher called out to another goblin in a guttural scratchy language. The new goblin then led him through a door, down multiple hallways and into a room. An empty room. Harry was going to question him but by the time he turned around, the goblin had already left and closed the door on him. Without a word.

It took five minutes of waiting before another goblin joined him. Harry was annoyed by now but still nodded in respect to the new goblin. He didn't want to be stalled any more just because of his attitude. The goblin nodded back before taking a seat at a table Harry was positive hadn't been there just a moment before.

“Take a seat young wizard, I am Ritualist Sharpfang. Do you already know your part in the inheritance ritual? Gringotts nor I will take any responsibility for issues in the ritual due to the customer's failure.”

Harry just shook his head. He didn't know anything other than the fact that the ritual would tell him his parents names and whether or not he was eligible to receive an inheritance.

Sharpfang sighed in disappointment. “I supposed not.” he then handed Harry a parchment explaining the ritual in a simple manner. All Harry needed to do himself was prick one of his fingers with a ritual dagger and drop 7 drops of blood into a bowl. Everything else would be taken care of by Ritualist Sharpfang.

It only took Harry a moment to understand the instructions. Blood was a very powerful resource. If the wrong person were to obtain his blood, they could do just about anything to him. Several of the books he had read told stories of kings falling from their thrones and becoming slaves to dark wizards because of a single drop of blood. “Ritualist Sharpfang… would any of my blood be used in anything other than the inheritance ritual?”

Sharpfang growled “Young wizard are you questioning the integrity of Gringotts?”

“Of course not, Ritualist Sharpfang, I don't know the common procedure for Gringotts blood rituals. I do, however, understand the importance of someone's blood falling into the wrong hands.”

This seemed to appease Sharpfang. “Indeed young wizard, we at Gringotts won't use blood for anything other than what a client authorized themselves. In fact this room is spelled to banish any blood left over from a ritual. While the ritual knife itself is spelled to heal any injury made by it as soon as a ritual is done, making it impossible for wounds from the ritual leading to anyone obtaining your blood.

Upon learning that his fears were unfounded, Harry sighed in relief. Reading over the instructions for his part in the ritual once more. He found no issue and was ready to proceed. It only took a nod from Harry to begin.

Ritualist Sharpfang gave the table a tap. The table opened up and out came an obsidian bowl, along with a jagged dagger of the same material. Both items were covered in golden runes, none of which Harry could make out.

Another tap and the table once more opened to produce a sparkling piece of parchment, completely unblemished.

All of the items exited the table in the correct locations. The dagger nearest to Harry, the bowl and parchment in the center of the table, the parchment slightly closer to Sharpfang in order for him to complete the ritual.

Sharpfang gave Harry a nod to proceed. Harry took up the knife, he idly wondered if it made a difference what finger he cut. He decided not to risk it and just followed the picture from the instructions from earlier. Even if the words told him nothing. He cut a thin slice into the tip of his right pointer finger and watched as the seven drops dripped into the bowl.

Harry's job was now over. He listened to Ritualist Sharpfang chanting in that strange language. The 7 drops sitting at the bottom began boiling and started to fill the bowl. Just as Harry was sure that it would overflow, Sharpfang grabbed it and splashed it across the parchment and table, covering the majority of the surfaces in Harry's blood.

Harry watched in awe as the blood seeped into the parchment and sizzled off the table, evaporating into nothingness. The parchment quickly grabbed his attention again however, when the blood finished seeping into the paper and oozed back out. It started as beads that slowly formed words, it took less than a minute for it to look like a freshly written parchment, ink still drying.

The parchment, now covered in words, was quickly snapped up by the goblin. Harry was a little annoyed but after the ritual he couldn't keep the awe out of his voice. “So? What happened?”

This broke the goblin out of a stupor. “Well young wizard, I would like to be the first to welcome you to the wizarding world. Welcome young Lord Potter.” he said with a brief bow and what could only be seen as a snarl by human standards.

The goblin then walked to the door without another word and left.

(AN: I feel the need to point out that Harry does not actually have a volcano in his mind palace… yet…)