Harry Potter: Magical Memories

Despite this, or perhaps because of it, Harry found himself actually enjoying the ride. It was one of his few vices, and a secret that only Lisa and her parents knew of: Harry was an adrenaline junky.

There had been a few times in the past few years where the Crawft family had gone to various amusement parks possessing a lot of roller coasters, and more often than not they had taken Harry with them.

He still remembered the very first time he had ever gone on a roller coaster before. It was one of the best times of his life, and one of the worst times of Lisa's. The girl had actually gotten quite sick, and ended up throwing up her lunch after the ride had finished. She probably would have thrown up on the ride itself, save for the fact that she had been far too busy screaming her lungs out. Harry remembered telling her that she didn't have to go on another roller coaster if she didn't want to; he had even offered not to go on anymore if it made her happy.

Of course, Lisa being Lisa had taken that as a challenge, and pretty much demanded he go on the largest and fastest roller coaster he could find. Even to this day, whenever they went to a theme park and Harry went on a ride with enough twists and turns to make a persons stomach jump into their throat, she would go on it too, even if most of the ones he enjoyed made her sick.

Really, Harry had no idea what to do with that girl.

All too soon the cart came to a screeching halt. The action was so sudden that were it not for his quick reflexes in grabbing onto the guardrail, he might have actually been thrown off. They stopped in front of an ancient looking door. It was large and round and appeared to be composed of some kind of metal.

"Key." Griphook held out his hand and Harry put the key in it. The goblin was quick to move over to the vault, where he proceeded to lift a flap behind which the lock was hidden.

Inserting the key, Griphook twisted. There was a loud grinding noise that Harry could only presume were the locks to the door. It made him wonder just how old this vault was. Hadn't it only been opened within the past twenty or so years? The grinding noise came to a halt and was soon followed by a loud 'clang' of locks settling into place. Green smoke billowed out of the doorway as it opened, and Griphook stepped aside to allow him entrance.

The room Harry found himself was quite extraordinary. It was a cylindrical room, fairly large, and was neatly organized. On one side was what Harry could only presume to be money; large piles of golden galleons, columns of silver sickles, and heaps of little bronze knuts. Looking at it now made Harry realize just how much money was truly in here, and it also made him wonder: if this was the amount of money in his mother's vault looked like, then what would all that money in his family vault look like?

On the other side of the room were boxes, plastic boxes to be exact. Harry was quite surprised to find non-magical containers within Gringotts. Then again, he was only assuming the containers were non-magical because so far it didn't look like the magical world had discovered the wonders of plastic yet.

There were only a few containers in any case, six in total. They were white with a black lid covering them. Nothing remarkable, at least on the outside, but whatever was on the inside could easily be considered treasure, at least to him.

"Be quick and gather what you need," Griphook said from where he stood outside of the room. "We still have another vault to travel to."

Harry frowned at the goblin's rudeness, but didn't comment as he made his way over to the boxes. Without preamble he began opening them and going through the contents. There didn't seem to be anything to remarkable, most of it was clothing, both of the male and female variety. He did find a few small gems though, some family photos and a few picture books—the real treasures as far as he was concerned. He was quick to grab those and place them within the back pack he had taken with him this morning. After shoving the items into his bag, he was about to stand up when something else caught his attention.

It was a small case about the size of his forearm. It looked almost like a jewelery case that could be found in non-magical stores. It was black, with golden script written in elegant cursive. Ollivanders. With slightly shaky fingers, Harry opened the box to see what it contained.

Sitting on a plush, purple cushion was what anyone unfamiliar with the object would call a stick. It was dark brown, a little over ten inches in length, and had gently curved grooves running down its length. Despite having not seen it for a little over ten years, Harry would recognize his mother's wand anywhere.

Harry gently picked up the wand, and as he did a strange feeling came over him. He was not sure how to properly describe the feeling. Acceptance, perhaps. Love. Safety. There were many feelings that he could perceive while holding the wand. And he was not sure if the feelings he could detect were coming from him or from the wand itself. Maybe a combination of both.

Releasing a slow breath, he placed the wand back into the case and closed the lid, before stowing it in a small pouch near the front of his backpack.

He looked around the vault one more time, before determining that he was done. Walking out of the vault, Harry stopped in front of Griphook, who looked to have been waiting for him impatiently.

"I'm done here now," he said softly. He looked back into the vault one last time as it closed, then got into the cart that would take him to his trust vault.

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