Petunia froze at Harry's question, her eyes wide as she stared at Harry. For a moment, there was only silence, the only sound in the room was everyone's breath. Her expression shifted—shock melting into something tender and overwhelmed.
"Harry…" she whispered, her voice trembling. Tears glistened in her eyes as she leaned forward slightly, her hand reaching toward him instinctively.
Vernon cleared his throat, his usual steady demeanor faltering as he looked at Harry, then at Petunia. A warm, almost proud smile spread across his face, and he nodded, his voice a little rougher than usual. "I think... we'd like that very much, son."
Petunia blinked rapidly, her composure returning just enough for her to speak. "You don't know how much that means to me," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Of course, Harry. Of course, you can."
Harry shifted his gaze to Vernon. His heart pounded, but his voice was steady as he asked, "Then... Can I call you Dad too?"
The question seemed to hit Vernon square in the chest. His shoulders stiffened for a moment, and his grip on the edges of his newspaper tightened. But then, a tremor ran through him, and he let out a shaky breath. His eyes, though slightly watery, gleamed with a mixture of pride and something deeper. "You've always been like a son to me, Harry. Of course, you can call me Dad."
The word felt foreign yet comforting on Harry's tongue. "Mum… Dad… thank you." His voice wavered slightly, and he looked down at his hands. "I—I feel better now. Knowing I have someone to call my parents… it—it means everything to me."
Petunia couldn't hold back any longer. She stood abruptly, crossing the small distance between them, and pulled Harry into a fierce hug. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, as if she could shield him from every pain he'd ever felt. "Oh, Harry," she choked, her voice cracking as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "You've always been our son. Always. Don't ever think otherwise."
Vernon joined them, his large hand resting gently on Harry's shoulder. His usually gruff voice softened. "She's right, lad. We're your family. Always have been, always will be."
Harry hugged Petunia back, his face buried in her shoulder. The warmth of her embrace, the gentle pressure of Vernon's hand—it was a feeling he hadn't known in years. A feeling of home.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the emptiness he'd carried—the ache of losing his parents, the loneliness that had shadowed him—eased. He had a family that he could call his own.
Harry pulled back from the embrace, and his lips curved into a mischievous smirk as he stepped back, distancing himself from the dining table. Both Petunia and Vernon exchanged puzzled glances.
"What is it, Harry?" Vernon asked curiously.
"I have to show you something," Harry said, his voice brimming with excitement.
Petunia tilted her head slightly, a mixture of confusion and intrigue flashing in her eyes. "What is it, dear?"
Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a steadying breath and raised his hand in front of him, his palm open. A faint spark of exhilaration coursed through him as he muttered, "Incendio."
Almost instantly, the same blackish fire from earlier ignited in the air above his hand, its slow-motion dance as hypnotic as it was unnatural. The room seemed to dim around the flame. Even Petunia and Vernon were drawn to the fire and felt a pull at their magical energy.
Petunia's eyes widened, her hand instinctively going to her mouth. "Harry… thats… thats…" she tried to form words but failed. Even Vernon stood there with his mouth open, gaping at Harry not knowing what to say.
Harry looked at them, their shock on their faces thrilled Harry even though a part of him wondered if it was really that big of a deal to cast a fireball magic which could be considered one of the most basic magic spells out there. He had no idea that what he had conjured was anything but a simple fireball.
Vernon sighed, "Harry stop the magic for now."
Harry immediately did so, and turned to Petunia and Vernon confused on why they were reacting like that.
"That's not normal magic, Harry," Vernon muttered, his voice thick with a mix of concern and awe. "What are you doing?"
Harry blinked in confusion. "But Dad, it's just a fireball," He said, "I mean I just used the Incendio spell. It's a basic fire producing spell isn't it?"
Petunia exchanged a glance with Vernon, her lips pressed into a thin line. She stepped closer, her expression a mix of worry and pride. "Harry," she began carefully, "what you conjured just conjured… it wasn't normal fire. That was Chaos Fire."
Harry tilted his head, his confusion deepening. "Chaos Fire? What's that? I mean I just followed the intention of the Incendio spell written in the book."
Petunia stepped forward, "Harry, Chaos Fire isn't just any fire. It's… ancient. Primal. The very essence of all fire. Wizards study for decades to just understand it, let alone try to summon it."
"And when they do," Vernon added grimly, "most don't survive. It burns through their magical reserves in seconds, leaving nothing behind."
Harry's brow furrowed further. "But I didn't feel any different. It wasn't hard at all," he said, glancing at his palm as the answers were written on it.
"That's the point, son," Vernon said, his voice softening. "You didn't just summon Chaos Fire—you controlled it. Wandlessly. Effortlessly."
Petunia nodded. "Do you know what that means, Harry?"
Harry hesitated, shaking his head slowly.
"It means," Vernon said, "that your magical reserves are… enormous. What you just did—well, it's enough to put you leagues above Dumbledore and Voldemort. And you did it as though it was nothing."
Harry blinked, swallowing hard. "I… I didn't know. I just followed the spell's intent."
"That's exactly why this is so remarkable… and terrifying." Petunia replied firmly. "You're powerful, Harry. More powerful than anything this magical society has ever seen or heard of. But power like this…" She paused, almost as if she was searching for the right words. "It's enough to make people fear you. To paint you as a villain—without you doing a single thing wrong."
Harry was stunned into silence by Petunia's words. Was he so powerful? But he was just a ten-year-old boy. Should it be even logically possible for him to be that powerful now?
People will be scared of him. They might paint him into a villain. Yet the more he thought about it, the more that feeling of unease faded into something else—something he couldn't name but was undeniably thrilling. Thrilling.
Why was he feeling this? Why, instead of fear or dread, did the realisation of his immense power fill him with… excitement? It wasn't just a fleeting sensation. No. It was a rush, like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that he had the strength to leap and fly. The thrill of possibilities. The thrill of control. He could change the entire story. The entire world of magic. Even while reading the books, he had thought—what if the magical world was developed into something better rather than that ancient thing that was there. Now he had a chance to do it.
And more importantly, he could protect his family and loved ones this time around. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
No, it wasn't enough to have this power. He needed to control it, refine it, every ounce of it. Because he couldn't become a danger to those he loved. And if he wanted to reshape everything, he would need to control his magic to the finest point.
"I'll be careful, Mum." Harry said, looking up at Petunia.
Both Petunia and Vernon sighed. "That's all we want, son." Vernon replied. With that they sat back down to have breakfast. Petunia had to wake Abigail up again because she had fallen asleep in her chair.
Petunia, meanwhile, nudged Abigail gently. "Wake up, sweetheart. You can't sleep at the table."
Abigail grumbled, rubbing her eyes and reluctantly picking up her fork again. Vernon glanced at her fondly before returning to his plate.
Harry looked up suddenly, breaking the tranquil moment. "Dad," he began hesitantly, "do you have any more magic books I can read?"
Vernon, in the middle of sipping his tea, paused mid-motion and blinked at Harry. "You mean to say… you've already finished all the books in your room?" he asked.
Harry nodded. "Yes, I've read them all. Twice, actually."
For a moment, Vernon stared at him, his expression caught between astonishment and pride. "Twice? Well, I'll be… That's impressive, son." He leaned back in his chair, setting down his cup. "What sort of magic books are you looking for now?"
Harry considered the question, "I don't really know what I need next. Maybe something advanced? But I was thinking—why don't we just open up the library? I could go through all the books there."
The room fell silent. Petunia and Vernon exchanged a glance, and Vernon's expression stiffened almost imperceptibly before he responded, his tone careful. "Ah, the east wing… Well, we haven't been in there for years, Harry. It'd take a lot of effort to clear it out and make it usable again."
Harry tilted his head. For some reason Vernon didn't want Harry to go into that library just yet. Then again pureblood families sometimes have a lot of secret magic, some of which can be considered a bit evil. So maybe Vernon was afraid of that.
"That's fine, Dad. I just thought it might save you some trouble." He replied.
Vernon cleared his throat and smiled. "It's not trouble at all, son. In fact, why don't we do this instead? We'll head to Diagon Alley this evening, and you can pick out any books you'd like. Advanced ones, beginner ones—whatever you fancy."
Harry's face lit up. "Really? That would be great! Thank you, Dad."
Petunia smiled at the exchange, relieved at how smoothly Vernon had handled the topic. "You'll need to make a list, Harry. That way you don't forget anything once you're there."
"I will!" Harry finished the last bite of his breakfast, his excitement evident as he stood. "I'll be up in my room reading for now."
As he left the table, Abigail shoved the rest of her toast into her mouth with uncoordinated enthusiasm and hopped down from her chair. "Harry! Wait for me!" she called out, her voice muffled by the food she was still chewing.
Both Petunia and Vernon chuckled, watching as the little girl chased after Harry. "She adores him, doesn't she?" Vernon said softly.
Petunia nodded, a warm smile spreading across her face. "She does. And I have a feeling he's going to need that kind of love and support in the days ahead, considering his powers."
Vernon's smile faltered slightly, but he reached out to place a reassuring hand over Petunia's. "We'll make sure he has it."
The afternoon sun streamed gently through the curtains of Harry's room, casting soft golden hues across the walls. Harry was lounging on his couch reading a book on potions, "A Beginners Guide to Potion Ingredients". Excited by his success with magic spells in the morning, Harry had decided that he would try out potions as well. Maybe it was because of his understanding of magic, but he could make sense of everything in the book on the first try. Moreover he could remember everything written in the book, uses, properties, nurturing, preparation etc. for each and every potion ingredient. His mind was a bottomless cauldron, brewing and storing knowledge effortlessly.
He paused, placing his finger on a passage about dragon scales. Wait, since he was in the Harry Potter universe, that meant that Dragons, phoenixes and unicorns were real. Although he was excited to see them, the rational part of him pointed out that the dragons are the apex predators and if he was to meet them he might die. Well for now he would be seeing their scales as potion ingredients. They were powerful, versatile, and rare, used in some of the most advanced elixirs. The thought of working with something so extraordinary sent a thrill through him.
As Harry was lost in his thoughts on how he could use dragon scales, although he didn't know any potion recipes to begin with, there was a knock on the door which broke his concentration. Abigail's voice followed. "Harry, are you still reading? Mum is asking you to come down."
Harry smiled, closing the book carefully. "Okay, I am coming, Abby."
Harry stretched and placed the book on the desk, his thoughts still swirling around dragon scales and potion-making. As he headed towards the door, Abigail's cheerful voice echoed in his mind. July 22nd, he remembered suddenly. Abigail's birthday was just a few days away. He frowned slightly. He hadn't thought about a gift yet, and that presented a dilemma. He didn't have any money of his own—or did he? His mind flashed to the Gringotts vault his parents had left him. That's right… I have a vault. It's my money, after all.
A small smile tugged at his lips. If he could access the vault, he wouldn't need to rely on Vernon or Petunia for funds. He'd have the means to buy Abigail a proper gift, and maybe even get a few things for himself. Vernon, he suspected, would likely insist on paying for anything Harry needed, but surely there was no harm in using his own gold every now and then.
Harry's mind raced as he walked through the corridors and down the stairs, thinking of what Abigail might like. A beautiful hair clip enchanted with sparkles? A small charm bracelet with protective runes? Or maybe something magical that could bring her joy every day?
As he reached the living room, the aroma of something sweet and fruity pulled him from his thoughts. Petunia was sitting on the couch with Abigail, a freshly baked fruit tart resting on the coffee table. Abigail's face lit up when she saw Harry.
"There you are!" she chirped. "Mum made a fruit tart for tea!"
Harry smiled and made his way over. "Smells amazing," he said, taking a seat on the armchair nearby.
Petunia poured tea into delicate cups and set a plate of tart slices in front of Harry. "I thought we could have a little break before heading to Diagon Alley," she said, her tone warm.
"Thanks, Mum," Harry said as he took a bite of the tart. The flavors of fresh berries and flaky pastry melted in his mouth. "This is delicious!"
Abigail nodded enthusiastically, her mouth full of tart. Petunia chuckled softly, smoothing her daughter's hair.
Harry took another bite and then noticed that Vernon wasn't around so he turned to Petunia. "Where is Dad, Mum?"
Petunia replied, "Dad had to go and check up on something urgent. There was some issue at one of our businesses that needed his attention. He will be back soon, don't worry."
Harry nodded and continued on with the tart. Although he had tasted many lavish foods in his past life, Petunia's cooking was almost in a league of its own. It was so damn good.
As Harry finished his tart, he leaned back in the armchair, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Petunia sipped her tea while Abigail swung her legs excitedly, still savoring her piece of tart.
"Mum, your tarts are the best," Harry said sincerely, setting his empty plate down.
Petunia gave him a soft smile. "I'm glad you think so, dear. It's always a pleasure to cook for you two."
Abigail grinned, brushing crumbs off her dress. "Harry's right Mum. You tarts are unbeatable."
Petunia smiled and kissed Abigail's head. *Thanks, Abby. Now be a good girl and clean up your dress. You have crumbs all over it."
Abigail started brushing crumbs off her dress vigorously making the crumbs fly around and fall all around her. Petunia sighs and quickly brings out her wand and flicks it to make the crumbs disappear.
Then just as Harry was about to say something, a soft whoosh filled the room. All three turned their heads toward the fireplace, where emerald flames roared to life. Vernon stepped out, brushing a bit of ash from his sleeves. His expression was calm but purposeful.
"Hello, everyone!" He greeted, his voice warm. "Sorry for the delay. The matter at the company took longer than expected."
Petunia stood, smoothing her dress. "Welcome back, dear. We just finished tea. Would you like some tart before we head out?"
Vernon smiled, glancing at the plate. "I'll take a slice. Don't want to keep our boy waiting for our trip to Diagon Alley, do we?"
Harry grinned. "Thanks, Dad."
"Of course, Harry," Vernon said. "Abigail, are you coming along?"
Abigail jumped up, her eyes bright. "Of course! I wouldn't miss it! I can get ice cream at Florean Fortescue after all."
Petunia smiled at the enthusiasm and started tidying up as Vernon grabbed a slice of tart. Harry watched the scene with quiet appreciation—moments like these reminded him how fortunate he was to have this life instead of the one he had read about in the books.
"Well then," Vernon said after finishing the tart in a few bites. "Let's get moving before the shops get too crowded."
They gathered their things and headed toward the fireplace. Harry threw in a handful of Floo Powder into the flames and one by one, the family stepped through, heading straight to the magical streets of Diagon Alley.
As they appeared in Diagon Alley, Vernon placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his voice amused. "I suppose I don't need to ask where you'll be heading first."
Harry grinned, practically bouncing on his toes. "Books, Dad. I need books!"
Petunia chuckled, glancing at Abigail whose eyes were set far down the street on the bright shop of Florean Fortescue. The family walked down the street and arrived at Flourish and Blotts, Harry immediately entered the shop with his eyes wide. The towering shelves brimming with books of every size and color felt like a treasure trove. Without a second thought, he dove into the aisles, running his fingers along the spines of ancient tomes and glancing at titles that piqued his interest.
He began pulling books off the shelves—one on potions theory, another on advanced transfiguration, a third on charms. As his enthusiasm grew, so did his selection: books on apparition, magical theory, runes, arithmancy, and even niche topics like wandlore and nonverbal spells.
By the time Harry levitated his stack of books to the counter, the pile was nearly twice his height. His small frame was barely visible behind it, drawing laughter from Vernon and Petunia as they approached.
"Merlin's beard, Harry," Vernon said with a hearty laugh. "Are you trying to buy the entire store?"
"I might need all of this, Dad," Harry replied earnestly, peeking around the stack. "Everything in here could help me learn more about magic."
Abigail looked at the stack and gasped. "Are you planning on eating and sleeping for the next month, brother?"
This caused Vernon and Petunia to laugh even more as Harry tried to justify all the books to Abigail. Just then, the shopkeeper, an elderly wizard with half-moon glasses and a cheerful smile, stepped forward. "Lord Dursley!" he exclaimed, bowing slightly. "What a pleasure to see you and your family. Young Master Harry certainly has an appetite for knowledge, I see."
"Indeed," Vernon said, smiling proudly. "He certainly loves his books, doesn't he?"
The shopkeeper chuckled. "Excellent choices, Master Harry. These are some of our finest tomes. Shall I tally them up for you?"
"Please do," Vernon said, "And don't hold back—if there's anything rare or particularly useful in stock, add that to the pile as well."
The shopkeeper nodded, flicking his wand to summon a couple of rare titles from the back. "A pleasure to accommodate. Your family's patronage is always appreciated."
As the total was rung up, Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, Dad," he said softly. "I'll make good use of these."
Vernon ruffled Harry's hair. "I know you will, son. And if you need more, you only have to ask."
Vernon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, unassuming coin pouch. At first glance, it looked ordinary—worn leather with a simple drawstring—but as Vernon opened it and began placing the towering stack of books into it, Harry's eyes widened.
One by one, the books disappeared into the pouch without any visible bulge or added weight. Harry stared in fascination, unable to contain his curiosity. "Dad, how…how does that work?"
Vernon grinned at Harry's amazement. "This," he said, holding up the pouch, "is a subspace pouch. It's been magically expanded on the inside, allowing it to hold a significant amount of items while still weighing no more than an ordinary pouch of coins."
Harry's eyes gleamed with excitement. "That's brilliant! I've never seen anything like it!"
Vernon chuckled, clearly enjoying Harry's enthusiasm. "It's quite handy. Tell you what, we'll stop by the Quality Quidditch Supplies shop later. They usually carry pouches like this. I'll get one for you."
Harry nodded eagerly, his excitement bubbling over. "Thank you, Dad!"
As the family exited Flourish and Blotts, Harry's gaze was drawn to the towering white building at the far end of the alley—Gringotts. The marble facade gleamed in the afternoon sun, and the imposing goblin guards at the entrance stood as still as statues.
Walking through the bustling street, Harry slowed his pace to fall in step beside Vernon. "Dad, can we stop by Gringotts while we're here?"
Vernon glanced down, raising an eyebrow. "Gringotts? Why do you want to go there?"
Harry hesitated for a moment before answering. "I was thinking…I'd like to access my vault. I know you'll get me anything I need, but I'd like to have a little money of my own. Abigail's birthday is coming up, and I want to get her something special with my own savings."
Vernon's expression softened. He was touched by Harry's thoughtfulness but reluctant to let him spend his money. "Harry, you don't need to use your money. I'll buy whatever you want for Abby. You're part of this family, and there's no need for you to dip into your vault."
Harry smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Dad, but…I'd still like to have a little of my own. Just for things like this. It's not that I don't trust you—it's just something I want to do."
Vernon sighed,"Alright," he said, relenting. "It is your money, after all. But don't think for a second that I'm going to let you spend it unnecessarily. I'll still buy you everything you need, Harry."
Harry grinned. "Deal. Thanks, Dad."
As they approached the towering marble structure of Gringotts, Vernon gently touched Petunia's arm. "Why don't you and Abigail get some ice cream while Harry and I handle this? It might take a little while," he suggested with a warm smile.
Petunia nodded, "Alright, we'll meet you back here in a bit. Come on, Abby," she said, leading Abigail toward Florean Fortescue Ice Cream Parlour.
Once they were out of earshot, Vernon turned to Harry. "Let's get this sorted, son." Together, they climbed the grand staircase and entered the gleaming interior of Gringotts.
The hall was bustling with goblins, some perched on high stools scribbling away in ledgers, others escorting wizards and witches to and from the place.
Vernon stepped forward, speaking to a goblin behind a large, polished counter. "Good afternoon. I'm Vernon Dursley, and this is Harry Potter. We're here to access his vault."
The goblin looked up from his ledger, his eyes narrowing briefly before he answered. "Of course. May I see the key?"
Vernon handed over the small golden key he carried, and the goblin inspected it meticulously before he called another goblin to take them to the vault.
The ride down to the vault was exhilarating, the cart zipping through the twisting, dark tunnels with breakneck speed. Harry gripped the edge of the cart tightly, a mixture of fear and exhilaration on his face.
As they reached Vault 687, the goblin stepped forward and inserted the key into the lock. With a loud clang, the door swung open, revealing piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins. Harry's eyes widened at the sight.
"Is this all mine?" he asked in awe.
Vernon nodded and chuckled. "Yes, Harry. This is the trust vault your parents left for you. It's meant to cover your needs until you come of age."
Harry grinned and stepped inside, scooping a few handful of galleons into a pouch. "This should be enough," he said, looking back at Vernon.
As they prepared to leave, the goblin cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter, if I may, this is not the entirety of your wealth."
Harry was confused. As far as the books mentioned this vault was the only thing that he had. Did he have more in this world? "What do you mean?" He asked the goblin.
Vernon sighed and spoke up, "He is talking about the Potter family fortune, Harry. It's not exactly necessary for you to know about it since you cannot access it yet. But if you'd like to know then we can go ahead."
Harry blinked at Vernon, his curiosity piqued. "The Potter family fortune?" he asked slowly, his voice tinged with disbelief. "There's more than just this vault?"
Vernon cast an amused glance at Harry, "Of course there is more, Harry," Vernon said. "The Potters are the second-richest wizarding family in Britain. You didn't think that lump sum was all your parents left you, did you?"
Harry's mind raced as he tried to process this information. "I… I want to know," he said firmly, turning to the goblin. He had to know, because if there is more than just this then he could start many of his plans early.
The goblin inclined his head. "As you wish, Mr. Potter. Please follow me to the manager's office. I believe this revelation warrants a more private setting."
The trio followed the goblin as he led them to an ornate door with intricate carvings of dragons and runes. The goblin opened it and gestured for them to enter.
Inside, another goblin sat at a polished desk. He rose upon their entry and bowed slightly. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Dursley," he greeted. "I am Ragthorn, a general manager in charge of letting the heirs know of their fortune during their first visit to Gringotts."
Harry sat down, his nervousness replaced by curiosity. "I was told there's more to my inheritance than just the trust vault. Is that true?"
Ragthorn nodded, his long fingers clasping together. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Your trust vault contains funds set aside for your personal use until you come of age. However, the true wealth of the Potter family includes vast investments, estates, and several vaults housing a fortune of approximately 900 million Galleons."
Harry's jaw dropped. "Nine hundred million?"
Vernon chuckled, "I told you, Harry. Your parents left behind more than enough."
Ragthorn continued, "In addition to gold, the Potter estate includes shares in major wizarding businesses, rare magical artifacts, and properties across Britain and abroad. However, you cannot access the majority of these assets until you are of age or without the supervision of your guardian. For now, the trust vault is at your disposal."
Harry leaned back in his chair, overwhelmed but his brain running at full speed. If he had that much money then he could certainly start his own business here and not just one but several of them. "I had no idea…" he muttered. Then he glanced at Vernon. "If I can't fully access it yet, is there a way I could manage it or use it responsibly with your supervision?"
Vernon smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "That's a smart question, Harry. Yes, it's possible to arrange something. We could appoint a financial manager through Gringotts to oversee things, and you can start learning about managing the estate under supervision."
Ragthorn nodded approvingly. "That would be wise. Many heirs fail to prepare for the responsibilities of wealth. It seems Mr. Potter is an exception."
Harry's cheeks flushed slightly, but he grinned. "I'd like that. I don't want to waste what my family worked so hard for."
Ragthorn made a note on a piece of parchment. "We can arrange a meeting to establish a management plan. For now, is there anything else you wish to know or access?"
Harry shook his head. "Not yet. This is already more than I expected." He glanced at Vernon. "Thanks for bringing me here, Dad."
Vernon ruffled Harry's hair affectionately. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, Harry. Your parents would be proud."
As they exited the manager's office and made their way back to the main hall, Harry felt a mix of excitement and determination. He had a fortune large enough that he could set many of his plans at motion early which could not only increase his wealth but also improve the magical society.