Gripper and a senior goblin appraiser he had summoned approached the table at once. Rather than touching the gold bars directly, they passed an array of peculiar instruments across the surfaces, scanning them with quick, precise movements.
The two goblins conferred in a rapid, guttural language that rose and fell like the clatter of coins, nodding in evident approval.
"Purity exceeds 99.9 percent, with exquisite craftsmanship," Gripper announced at last, turning to Charles. "These bars meet Gringotts' highest acceptance standards. Would you like to exchange the entire amount for Galleons? At today's rate, this gold converts to five hundred and fifty thousand Galleons. In addition, five hundred Galleons will be deducted for opening the vault and providing the first year of our highest-level security services."
Five hundred and fifty thousand Galleons. In his previous life Henry would have felt as though he had struck the lottery, yet in this one the sum registered as little more than generous pocket money.
Charles considered the figure for a moment before replying. "Very well. Deduct the five hundred Galleons as the handling fee. Convert fifty thousand Galleons into cash, including a suitable mix of Sickles and Knuts. Deposit the remaining fifty thousand directly into the newly opened vault for Henry. Furthermore, we will deposit another fifty thousand Galleons of gold into his vault each year."
"Yes, Your Highness," Gripper replied, his voice warming noticeably. "You are a most distinguished client. Gringotts will prepare appropriate gifts for you."
The goblin worked with impressive efficiency. Within minutes a magical contract appeared on parchment, its clauses intricate and shimmering with enchanted ink. Henry chose Vault 777.
Once the document had been signed, Gripper presented him with a small purse enchanted by a Seamless Extension Charm.
The purse contained three separate compartments: one brimming with bronze Knuts, another with silver Sickles, and the third with gold Galleons.
"Here are your keys and a small token of our esteem, Your Highness," Gripper said, handing Henry a gold key set with rubies. "The vault lies deep underground, protected by dragons and other guardians. You may deposit or withdraw funds in person at any time, or we can arrange remote authorisation through a pre-signed magical contract. We will provide full documentation."
As they left Gringotts, Gripper himself escorted them to the bronze doors, his manner even more deferential than upon their arrival—a courtesy extended only to clients of true importance.
"All right," Charles said lightly, one hand resting on Henry's shoulder and the other slipping around Diana's waist. "Now we can purchase Henry's school supplies."
At Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Henry stood on a low footstool while a magical measuring tape fluttered around him of its own accord.
The tape occasionally tightened with playful mischief around his waist or prodded his knees, prompting William to dissolve into giggles beside him.
Mrs Malkin flushed with excitement and promised repeatedly to use only the finest fabrics for the most elegant Hogwarts robes.
She even lowered her voice to ask whether special family crests should be embroidered upon them, but Henry declined with polite firmness.
Inside Flourish and Blotts the bookshelves soared to the ceiling, and self-propelled staircases glided between levels to assist customers. Charles found himself drawn to a thick volume on the history of magic and began turning pages with grave concentration—though Henry noticed his father lingered longest on the amusing anecdotes about wizard-Muggle relations.
Diana, meanwhile, became enchanted by a picture book that played soft melodies when opened and decided at once to buy it for Harry.
William nearly lost a finger to a snapping copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, leaping back with a yelp, only to be captivated moments later by an illustrated volume depicting a fiercely competitive Quidditch match.
When they passed the pet shop, Harry pressed his face to the window, utterly mesmerised by the fluffy creatures tumbling and rolling behind the glass.
He refused to move until Diana gently explained that magical pets could not be kept inside the palace and promised to purchase a toy version instead. Only then did the boy relent.
'This kid…' Henry thought, carrying the cage that held his new snowy owl and glancing at Harry, who still stared longingly over his shoulder at the creature he had christened Puffy.
He knew this little brother of his was no pushover. Of course, the entire family shared that quality.
His father hardly projected the image of a natural ruler, and only days earlier his younger brother had shouted at a teacher, "When I become king, I'll have my guards kill you!"—Should he become the ruler, the legitimate line of the House of Windsor would find itself in genuine peril.
Of course, Henry had also obtained his wand at Ollivanders. It was yew, eleven inches long, with a dragon-heartstring core.
"That mad old fellow claimed a yew wand can grant its owner the power over life and death," Charles had complained casually on the way out. "Trust me, you do not need any wand to possess that power."
Henry believed him.
After the shopping concluded, Dumbledore guided them to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour for a brief rest, where they sampled the wizarding world's frozen delights.
Charles ordered an extravagant chocolate-volcano lava sundae with raspberries and nut crumbs, adding what he clearly considered an extra layer of sophistication; after the first few spoonfuls, however, he began speaking in noticeably slower, more deliberate tones.
William and Harry became completely absorbed by the colour-changing scoops and the tiny candies that bounced merrily across the tops, their earlier nervousness forgotten for the moment.
Dumbledore himself savoured a caramel-rum-raisin-cookie cone with slow, intent spoonfuls. Diana declined any ice cream, her longstanding concern for her figure overriding the temptation.
Seizing the opportunity, Henry slipped back to the potions shop and purchased several expensive weight-loss and beauty potions, tucking the vials securely into his enchanted purse.
He knew a significant part of his father's lingering resentment toward Diana stemmed from her habit of inducing vomiting to maintain her shape, which left a persistent, unpleasant odour.
Even the most breathtaking beauty lost much of its allure under such conditions. Fortunately, Henry's presence had kept their marriage from collapsing entirely.
He sighed inwardly sometimes, a quiet weariness settling over him. This family would fall apart sooner or later without him.
In addition to the slimming potions, he had asked the shopkeeper whether they stocked a hair-growth elixir. Upon receiving a regretful denial, he felt as though the sky itself had caved in.
The true crisis awaiting him, he reflected, had nothing to do with Voldemort or any other grand threat. It was baldness. His grandfather was bald, his adoptive father was bald, and scientific understanding confirmed that male-pattern baldness followed a sex-linked genetic pattern influenced by androgens.
Men carrying the susceptible alleles would lose their hair; only those with the protective combination escaped. Henry refused to gamble on that slender probability.
Knowing that two of the three men in the previous generation had already succumbed, he could only imagine William growing up bald while Harry—perhaps—remained spared. The fate of any future brother remained an open question.
He returned to the ice-cream parlour in a listless mood. Diana noticed at once.
"Henry, darling?" she asked, concern softening her voice. "What is the matter?"
"Nothing, Mother." He had no wish to discuss his looming fear of baldness. He settled beside her. "I am simply thinking about Hogwarts. I shall miss you all a little."
The answer suited his age perfectly. Diana sighed and drew him into a warm embrace.
"Oh, right, Mum," he added after a moment, "let us order some ice cream. They say sweets make one happy."
Diana's eyes lingered on the colourful display, clearly tempted after watching everyone else indulge. Yet she gritted her teeth and resisted.
"No, honey," she murmured, kissing his forehead. "I…"
Before she could finish, Henry drew a small bottle from his pocket and waved it discreetly toward her.
"Mum, I bought a slimming potion at the potions shop. It will help you keep a perfect figure…"
Diana's head lifted at once, her eyes sparkling with sudden delight.
"I want the biggest ice cream!" she declared, pointing at the shop's sign with unshakeable resolve.