Shopping

As they stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, the musty smell of old wood and alcohol hit Damian immediately. The dim lighting gave the place an almost eerie charm, but he could barely contain his excitement. This was where it all began.

Behind the bar stood a tall, bald man with a wrinkled face and a friendly—if slightly creepy—smile. His expression brightened when he saw Flitwick.

"Professor Flitwick! A pleasure, as always," the man said, his raspy voice carrying through the room.

"Good to see you too, Tom," Flitwick replied with a nod, before gesturing toward Damian. "This young man is Damian Black. I'm taking him to Diagon Alley for his school things."

At the mention of his name, Tom's face changed. His smile faltered, and for a moment, he went pale, his eyes widening. He nearly took a step back.

"B-Black, you say?" His voice trembled slightly.

Damian felt a cold shiver run down his spine. His father's name still carried a dark weight in this world due to his alleged betrayal. He just stood there, blinking in confusion, pretending to be oblivious.

Flitwick, to his credit, didn't acknowledge the awkwardness. "Come along, Damian. We've got a lot to do."

They moved past Tom without another word and headed toward the back of the bar. In a corner stood a small dustbin, and in front of it, a large brick wall. Damian looked around, confused, but Flitwick smiled knowingly.

"Now, watch closely, Damian," he said, taking out his wand. "This is the entrance to Diagon Alley. You'll need to remember how to get in." He tapped a brick in the wall—three up, two across—three times.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the bricks began to shift and twist. The wall parted like curtains, revealing the bustling heart of the magical world: Diagon Alley.

Damian couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. It was better than he'd imagined—shop windows glittering with enchanted objects, witches and wizards in all manner of robes, owls hooting overhead. His heart raced. He was really here.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Flitwick said, smiling at Damian's wide-eyed expression. "Let's get started."

They made their way down the cobblestone street, but Flitwick led Damian straight to the large, white building looming at the end of the alley—Gringotts.

The massive white stone building loomed ahead of them, guarded by imposing goblins. As they entered, Damian couldn't help but admire the intricate carvings of dragons and magical creatures lining the walls. He also read the famous warning poem at the entrance, the words lingering in his mind:

"Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn

So if you seek beneath our floors

Treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there."

The goblins standing guard eyed him suspiciously as they approached, but Damian was too excited to care. Inside, the marble floors gleamed, and the chandeliers sparkled above. Everything felt grand, ancient, and slightly dangerous.

Flitwick walked up to one of the goblins behind the counter. "I'm here to help Mr. Black access his family vault," he said.

The goblin eyed them both, then gave a curt nod before gesturing them toward the entrance to the vaults. As they walked, Damian couldn't help but stare at the goblins—creatures straight out of legend, their sharp eyes always watching.

The goblin clerk at Gringotts didn't even glance up from his paperwork when they approached. He simply waved a hand toward a nearby assistant, who looked just as stern and goblin-like as the rest of them.

"Take him to see the Black accounts manager," the clerk said in a bored tone.

Damian followed the assistant deeper into the bank, trying to keep his excitement in check. They were led into a dimly lit office where a scarred goblin sat behind a massive desk. His face looked like he'd survived something vicious, and he eyed Damian with a sharp, unsettling gaze.

"Bloodaxe," he introduced himself curtly, leaning forward. "You must prove you are who you say you are—Damian Black."

"Uh… how do I do that?" Damian asked, already having a pretty good idea based on Bloodaxe's sharp stare and the faint gleam of a nearby dagger.

"A blood test," Bloodaxe replied, motioning to a small parchment on the desk. "Three drops."

Damian took the small knife he offered, wincing slightly as he pricked his finger. Three drops of blood fell onto the parchment, and immediately, ink began to spread across it, forming neat, swirling letters. He watched as two names appeared, clear as day: Sirius Orion Black and Eliena Catherine Black nee(Foy).

His breath caught for just a moment. 'Damn, I never thought I'd get emotional.' His mother's name—something he never knew before. He quickly pushed the feeling aside. There was too much happening to dwell on it now.

Bloodaxe glanced at the parchment, satisfied. "You are indeed the son of Sirius Black. As such, you will now be given the Black heir ring."

He waved his hand and slid a small, intricate ring across the desk. It was cold, silver, and intimidating. Damian picked it up and slid it onto his pinky, the metal sending a chill through his hand. The temperature in the room dropped for a second as if the ring itself was judging him, deciding whether or not he was worthy.

"Until your fourteenth birthday," Bloodaxe continued, watching him intently, "you'll have access to only your trust vault, which will fill with 5,000 galleons every year. After fourteen, you may access the artefacts and books in the family vault, but no gold. And upon your seventeenth birthday, you will be able to claim the Black Lord ring and full control of the vault and estate."

Damian looked down at the ring on his pinky, his heart pounding. For a second, he thought it might freeze his finger off—it felt like the air around it was alive, crackling with magic. But then, the cold subsided, and the ring seemed to settle. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

Bloodaxe grinned—well, as much as a goblin with a scarred face could. "Had the ring rejected you, it would've taken your finger with it."

Damian gulped. "Good to know."

Bloodaxe led them to the carts, where Flitwick and Damian climbed in for the ride to his trust vault. If he thought the entrance to Diagon Alley had been magical, this was something else entirely. The cart took off like a rocket, twisting and turning through the underground tunnels of Gringotts. Damian gripped the sides for dear life as they zoomed along the tracks.

"This is amazing!" he shouted over the wind, glancing at Flitwick, who was grinning like a kid on a rollercoaster.

"Yes, quite exhilarating!" Flitwick called back.

After what felt like the most fun yet terrifying ride of his life, they arrived at Damian's vault. Bloodaxe handed him a small, sleek pouch.

"An extension pouch, connected directly to your vault. It would cost you 10 galleons," he explained, with a smirk. "Only you can access it. You'll need a drop of blood to withdraw gold."

Damian paid the amount and pricked his finger again—seriously, how many times was he going to bleed today?—and dropped a single drop of blood onto the pouch. It glowed faintly before settling back to normal.

"Anti-theft enchantment and a lightweight charm," Bloodaxe added. "Only you can take from it."

He nodded, impressed. "Not bad. How do I get one of these for my books at school?"

As they finished up in the vault, Bloodaxe reminded him, "You'll need a magical guardian, as you're not of age yet."

Damian hadn't thought about that. He glanced at Flitwick, the only person he knew in this world. Also he is pretty chill and good in the story and most of the fanfictions.

"Professor, would you... be my magical guardian?" he asked.

Flitwick blinked in surprise, but then his expression softened. "If that is what you wish, Damian, I would be honoured."

Bloodaxe produced a contract which Damian read through, finding it satisfactory. Flitwick signed it without hesitation, officially becoming Damian's magical guardian.

With everything settled at the bank, they made their way back outside, and Damian felt a rush of relief and excitement. Flitwick didn't waste time. They immediately headed to get his school supplies, stopping by several shops to pick up books, robes, and potion ingredients. It felt surreal—he was finally part of this world. He also chose a multi-compartment chest that could hold a whole library of 5,000 books. It also had a potions room and a storage room to store all the potion supplies.

At one of the shops, he spotted a pure black Northern hawk owl perched in a cage, looking regal and serious. He decided right then and there it would be his companion. He named the owl Nyx, after the goddess of night.

"Good choice," Flitwick said approvingly as Damian paid for the owl. "Now, there's only one thing left to do—get your wand."

Damian felt a thrill of anticipation as they approached Ollivanders. The old shop looked exactly as he had imagined—dusty, mysterious, and filled with the energy of magic.

Flitwick paused at the door. "This is something you'll need to do on your own, Damian. The wand chooses the wizard, after all. I'll wait for you at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour."

"Alright," Damian said, taking a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."