Clark Kent moved through Diagon Alley, the cobbled streets buzzing with families and shopkeepers, a lively fair packed with eager voices and clinking coins. Professor Bathsheda Babbling walked beside him, her grey blazer and skirt sharp and professional, her confident steps navigating the crowd with ease. Clark's senses, honed by Kryptonian power, caught the chatter of young witches choosing wands and the hoots of caged owls, but his mind was on the Hogwarts letter in his pocket—a key to a world he'd claim.
"You'll need money for your supplies," Bathsheda said, sidestepping a boy clutching a broomstick. "Your father likely left you a sizable inheritance, and the headmaster's been keeping it in trust."
Clark's stride faltered, his emerald eyes narrowing. "Why does the headmaster have my money?"
Bathsheda hesitated, her dark eyes uncertain. "I'm not sure. Maybe your parents entrusted it to him for safekeeping."
The words struck a nerve. Clark's jaw clenched, a cold anger rising. His father died over a decade ago, yet Dumbledore had controlled his wealth while he'd lived in a cupboard, wearing Dudley's oversized rags? The Dursleys' public scorn—calling him a freak—had hidden their private fear, but this betrayal cut deeper. He forced a neutral expression, his smirk hidden. He'd play along, but Dumbledore's hold was over.
They reached Gringotts Wizarding Bank, a towering marble fortress dominating the alley, its facade both grand and forbidding. "Gringotts is run by goblins," Bathsheda said as they climbed the steps. "They're brilliant but sharp. Be polite, direct, and don't try to cross them."
Clark glanced at the bronze doors, noting the engraved warning: Enter, stranger, but take heed, of what awaits the sin of greed… His lips twitched, a smirk forming at the goblins' blunt poetry.
Inside, the bank was a maze of marble floors and high ceilings, goblins at tall desks scribbling on parchment and weighing coins with precision. Bathsheda approached a stern goblin with a hooked nose, his black eyes glinting coldly.
"I have a letter from Professor Dumbledore," she said, placing a sealed parchment on the counter.
The goblin unfolded it, scanning the text with an unreadable expression. After a moment, he nodded. "In order. The key?"
Bathsheda handed over a small golden key, its surface etched with numbers. The goblin examined it, his thumb tracing the engravings, then gave a curt nod. "Vault 687. Potter Family Vault. Follow me."
Clark's fists tightened, his smirk fading. Time to see what's mine.
A second goblin led them to a rusted mine cart on tracks in a dim corridor. Clark settled beside Bathsheda, and the cart shot forward, a rollercoaster plunge through twisting tunnels. Waterfalls roared, rocks jutted out, and vault doors flashed past, guarded by grim goblins. Clark's senses tracked the chaos, his anger simmering—every second in the Dursleys' poverty had been a theft of this legacy.
The cart screeched to a halt before a massive iron door: Vault 687 – Potter Family Vault. The goblin hopped out, inserted the golden key, and turned it. The door rumbled open, revealing a sight that stopped Clark cold.
Piles of gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts gleamed under torchlight, stacked in neat heaps. Shelves held old books, enchanted jewelry, and artifacts, their faint glow hinting at power. Clark's breath caught, then his jaw tightened. This wealth—his birthright—had been locked away while he'd starved under the Dursleys' stairs? Dumbledore's "trust" felt like a chain.
He took a deep breath, forcing calm. Anger wouldn't serve him now. He grabbed pouches of coins—gold, silver, bronze—stuffing them into his pockets, his movements deliberate, possessive. The goblin handed back the key. "Don't lose it. Replacement's ten galleons."
Clark nodded, slipping it into his robes, his smirk returning. No one controls this now.
Supplies for a New World
Back in Diagon Alley, Clark's mood lifted, the weight of coins in his pockets a promise of freedom. Bathsheda smiled, handing him a parchment. "Now, let's get your school supplies."
He unfolded it, scanning the list:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
First Year Student List
Required Supplies:
✅ 1 Wand
✅ 1 Set of School Robes (Black)
✅ 1 Cauldron (Standard Size 2)
✅ 1 Set of Glass or Crystal Phials
✅ 1 Telescope
✅ 1 Set of Brass Scales
✅ 1 Owl, Cat, or Toad (Optional)
✅ Books (Listed on the back)
Clark's smirk widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. With this wealth, he could buy more than supplies—he could buy influence, power, a place in this world.
Bathsheda glanced at him, her smile warm but cautious, sensing his intensity. "Ready, Harry?"
He nodded, his gaze lingering on her briefly, a spark of desire mixing with ambition. "Let's do this."
The alley stretched before him, shops brimming with possibilities, and Clark stepped forward, ready to claim it all—starting with Hogwarts.