Hagrid took me down to the vaults in a mining cart along with a goblin named Griphook. I think I might have seen the flame of a dragon, but maybe it was from some other source. We were going too fast for me to be sure. I tried my best to get a selfie with Griphook, but he screamed in terror the moment he saw my mobile and even after I explained what it was, he refused on the grounds of security concerns. I also had to delete my pictures from inside the bank, which, you know, does make sense now that I think about it.
I am not going to tell you how much money is in my vault or even hint at it, but I'll just say that while my parents were Potters, they were not paupers. See what I did there? Sometimes, I amaze even myself.
We stopped by to pick up a very mysterious package in another one of the vaults on my way out. Hagrid only described it as "the stuff dreams are made of." I had no idea mages watched film noir movies, but it just cemented in my mind the fact that Hagrid is the coolest guy ever. I'm not going to talk about it any more, and honestly, I should not have mentioned it at all.
Hagrid left me in the uniform shop while he went to get a drink, apparently to settle his stomach after the admittedly very wild cart ride. Which, you know, seems wildly irresponsible to me. But then again, my stomach's doing loop-de-loops too. Anyway, Hagrid's the adult here and he wasn't gone for too long and it all worked out.
I wish I could say I enjoyed the trip to the uniform shop as much as I enjoyed the bank, but I didn't, and it was all because of this utter ponce. He was blond and had a very pointy chin and acted like he was utter royalty. He had total Hitler Youth vibes even before he opened his mouth and started talking about "our kind" and insulted Hagrid. And, look, I cannot let that stand.
"What's your name?" I asked the boy.
He puffed up his chest and introduced himself as Draco Malfoy. "My family have been known as mages since the Roman conquest. We're powerful. My father is an advisor to the minister and Malfoys have been ministers three times in the last few years."
"And have you ever been out in the Muggle world, Draco Malfoy?" I asked softly.
Draco sneered at me. "Of course not. I don't debase myself by mingling with filth and savages. Disgusting animals, scrambling in the muck."
I gave a crazed smile. "What if I could show you otherwise?"
He scoffed. "Oh, please, like that's likely. Why should I go anywhere with a total stranger, anyway?"
"Quite right, Draco," I said smugly. "I haven't introduced myself yet. Harry Potter's the name." I brushed the hair away from my scar. I wasn't one to flout my fame, but if it was in the name of putting this bigot in his place, then I'd gladly do it. Maybe he would learn something.
Draco seemed to be hesitating for a very long time. "I suppose it can't hurt if it'll just take a few minutes…"
I went back to the Leaky Cauldron and asked Hagrid with big pleading eyes to let me show Draco something. Hagrid did not like the idea. Near as I can tell, the Malfoys are politically opposed to Dumbledore and may even have supported Voldemort. Given Draco's…Draconic-ness, that did not surprise me in the least. But ultimately, Hagrid decided to allow the three of us to go together. We stepped out of the pub into the Muggle street.
Draco was freaking out even at the site of the mundane, day to day life of the definitely not filthy animals around us, but that was nothing compared to what awaited him three blocks later: the Shard. The biggest skyscraper in London and actually in all of the UK. 309.6 meters [1016 feet] high. 72 floors. A testament to the power of what Muggles could accomplish all on their own without magic.
"It's not possible," Draco whispered. "No. They couldn't have – how? They must have hired mages…or they worked on it in secret. It's not possible without magic."
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Draco, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," I said with a maniacal grin. "Remember this every time you doubt Muggles, Draco. Remember that it was Muggles who built that."
Draco looked at me with heartbreak and…maybe just a slight hint of longing on his face, though it could have been wistful thinking. "It's a trick," he said, clearly not meaning a single word of it. "You're tricking me somehow."
"But what if I'm not?"
Draco just let out a snarl and walked straight back into the Leaky Cauldron, into his own limited world, without another word. I hoped I'd talk some sense into him. You had to get to these people young. Some people wouldn't have wasted any time with Draco, but I see my motivations as purely pragmatic. The fewer people following the philosophies of the person who wanted me dead – and thus might still want me dead themselves – the better.
.....
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