CHAPTER 2(ish)

"Never figured yeh for a whinger or a coward, Harry. Yer father'd be er-shamed, e'would," Hagrid growled out, his voice an angry rasp. For a moment, Harry felt hot tears prickle at the back of his eyes. Hermione, Neville, and even Malfoy moved a step closer to him, as if to block the harsh words from causing more pain. Hagrid's next statement hit him like a bucket of ice water, washing away any hint of remorse. "Meh-be yeh should go on back to those nasty muggles. Dumbledore had the right of it, 'e did. Kept yeh with those muggles to make yeh strong. Seems like yer not strong 'nuf yet ter do righ'." Harry sucked in a deep breath, stumbling backward as if struck. For a moment, he thought he saw a hint of apology in those beetle eyes. "Guess I better go find Dumbledore, then. If that unicorn dies, it'll be on yers head," he finished, sweeping his gaze over the first years, obviously avoiding direct eye contact with Harry.

"Harry, Harry! What should we do?"

Harry shook his head. Now was the wrong time to indulge in self-pity. They needed help—the kind of help they wouldn't find at Hogwarts.

"C'mon, let's go somewhere we can figure out what to do. I know where."

Nobody objected, the other three following him as if they had no choice. Harry didn't understand it, but right now, it was best. Carefully, Harry led his companions back the way they'd come, trying to follow the path exactly. The others didn't seem to notice when they circled the pumpkin patch twice before he led them under the Quidditch stands. Or so he thought.

"The dog, right?" Malfoy asked. When Harry nodded jerkily, Malfoy smiled tightly. "My father warned me about that dog along with Filch's cat." When nobody said anything, he continued, "I think I should write my father." Hermione opened her mouth, not speaking when Malfoy raised his hand in the universal signal to stop. "He's on the Board of Governors. He should know about this. And he can hopefully set things right."

"My Gran is on the Board, as well," Neville offered hesitantly. "Did you bring some parchment, Hermione?" It was a well-known fact that Hermione Granger never left her dorm without enough parchment for a three foot essay.

She nodded haltingly, pulling a roll of parchment out from some hidden pocket in her cloak. "Harry, are you going to write someone?" Eyes fixed on Harry, Neville reached for the parchment, tearing a short length from it before Hermione snatched it back, tidying up the ragged end. "I'm going to write my parents, even if they are muggles," she tacked on spitefully.

"Harry?" Malfoy's tone was unsure. Whatever he was looking for, Harry would have said the two were allies, if his mind worked that way. When Harry nodded, the blond continued in a firmer voice. "Then you shall call me Draco. We are cousins, you know, and both heir to the Black fortune. Your grandmother and mine were sisters. Now then, who do you know that has helped you in the Wizarding World? I mean, my parents will speak for you, but with the Potter holdings, surely you have a barrister. The Potters have always been big on investing, so you're not dripping galleons, but still…"

"You think I should write to someone who helped me, or someone who knows about my family's money?" Harry summarized, trying to understand the savvy Slytherin's advice while still reeling from the casual reference to family. He'd longed for family all these years, anybody besides the Dursleys. Before this night, he would have lumped Draco Malfoy in the same category as the aforementioned Dursley family. Now, however, "I was supposed to go into Slytherin, but you were so…" he blurted, halting himself with a hand clapped over his runaway mouth.

Draco's silver-blue eyes became impossibly wide as he mouthed, "Slytherin?"

"Ravenclaw," mumbled Neville.

"Me, too!" Hermione whispered excitedly.

"Who needs a quill?" Draco croaked, glancing at Harry speculatively as he handed out three wide-bodied writing implements that bore a striking resemblance to feathered fountain pens. "We should hurry. I can have my elf carry them, but we don't have much time."

"Elf?"

"Not now, Hermione," Harry cut her off. "Thank you, Draco."

"Thank you for the offer, and the quill, Malfoy. I'll have my elf take Hermione's and my letter, though. We live close," Neville stated, eyes fixed on his task.

Concentrating on what he needed to say, Harry tuned them out, having decided who might be of the most help to him. Based on who had helped him up till now along with who had the best reason to continue doing so, he began with a short note to Griphook, the goblin who'd explained Gringotts and a bit of the monetary system to him. It sounded like the goblins helping Harry could be a good deal, he'd make sure of it.

Hello Griphook,

You might not remember me, but you are the first goblin that I've met and the only one whose name I know. I'm in a tough spot and I don't have anyone magical to help me. Something is killing unicorns and I've been sent into the Forbidden Forest with 3 other first years including Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger. It turns out there are acromantulas—a colony of them! They're in there, too.

Also, I've just been told that my family is big on investing and I'm one of two heirs to the Black fortune, whatever that means.

Could you come and maybe help sort this out, or tell this to the most important bank official who might be interested? If this is how Hogwarts runs, I want our money back. (the bank's and mine)

SincerelyMay your axe drip with the blood of your enemies,

Harry James Potter

He looked up just in time to find himself nose-to-nose with an odd little creature. Shaking his head—he wasn't going to ask. This must be the elf his newly found cousin had mentioned.

Handing the roll of parchment to the elf, he whispered, "Take mine to Griphook. He's a goblin in Gringotts."

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir!" the elf promised, disappearing with a pop.

"Did you say goblin?"