3: Chapter 3 Halo Invisibility and Half of Porter's Legacy

Charing Cross Road, a very inconspicuous corner on the bustling streets of London.

There was a grubby, tiny-fronted pub here. Muggles hurried past the door without even a glance, as if it were just a bare brick wall.

The Leaky Cauldron.

"It's here." Hagrid pointed at the dark doorway and patted Harry's shoulder heavily with his large hand, almost knocking the skinny Harry over. "Go on in, Harry, Allen."

The three of them pushed the door open and entered.

Unlike the bright street outside, the Leaky Cauldron was extremely dim and noisy. The air was filled with the smell of cheap sherry, raw tobacco, and the sour sweat of people who never bathed. A group of Wizards wearing various shabby robes were gathered in twos and threes at wooden tables, drinking and whispering boastfully.

The moment Hagrid's massive figure stepped into the pub, the noisy chatter instantly died down.

Old Tom, the bartender, with his shriveled, walnut-like face, put on a fawning smile: "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Not today, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business." Hagrid patted his chest proudly and used his fan-like hand to pull Harry and Allen behind him to the front.

At this moment, dozens of gazes in the pub swept over simultaneously, scanning back and forth across Harry and Allen's faces like searchlights.

"Merlin's beard..." Old Tom's cloudy eyes suddenly widened, staring fixedly at the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead, not even noticing the rag in his hand fall to the floor. "This is... this is..."

The entire pub instantly fell into a deathly silence, and all gazes began to focus and heat up.

Allen stood next to Harry, keenly sensing the change in atmosphere.

Furthermore, scanning the corners of the pub with his peripheral vision, in a dark booth, sat a young Wizard wearing a huge purple turban, his face as pale as paper.

Quirrell! Or rather, Quirrell with Lord Voldemort growing on the back of his head!

Quirrell's neurotic eyes were trying to peer through the crowd, scanning their side, and an extremely faint but nauseating aura of Dark Arts was probing over like a viper flicking its tongue.

Being targeted by the Dark Lord was not what Allen wanted right now.

A cold, imperceptible smirk curled at the corner of Allen's mouth as he suddenly reached out and slapped Harry's shoulder heavily.

He used an extremely exaggerated, even artificial "excited" tone, pointed at Harry, and shouted loudly to the entire pub:

"My god! Harry Potter! Is this the Leaky Cauldron you mentioned? What an exciting place!"

This shout was like pouring a basin of cold water into a pot of boiling oil!

Boom—!

The pub completely exploded!

"Harry Potter! It's really Harry Potter!"

"My god! The Chosen One has returned!"

Chairs were roughly knocked over, and wine glasses shattered on the floor. Every Wizard, young and old, swarmed over like madmen, fanatically reaching out to touch the skinny little Chosen One.

"Mr. Potter, I'm Doris Crockford, I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!"

"Mr. Potter, it is the honor of my life to meet you!"

Countless hands reached out from all directions, grabbing Harry's hand and shaking it frantically.

Harry's eyes widened in terror, completely submerged by this sudden tsunami of fanaticism, and he could only be jostled back and forth by the crowd, his glasses even getting crooked.

As for the culprit behind all this—Allen, the moment he shouted those words, had smoothly taken half a step back, completely blending into the shadow cast by Hagrid's massive body.

Watching Harry being surrounded by the crowd and pulled around like a rag doll, Allen yawned lazily, his eyes filled with indifference.

"Well done, my dear cousin. A meat shield should have the self-awareness of a meat shield."

Under the cover of Harry's aura, even Quirrell in the corner with the purple turban had focused all his attention on Harry.

Quirrell stammered as he stepped forward to shake Harry's hand, a flash of imperceptible malice in his eyes.

From beginning to end, no one looked at Allen twice, even though he looked somewhat similar to Harry and was brought by Hagrid.

In the perception of the magical world, there was only one protagonist tonight!

After a full ten minutes of chaos, Hagrid finally managed to pull Harry out of the fanatical crowd and escorted them through the brick wall passage at the back of the pub.

"Be careful, Harry, you're a big celebrity." Hagrid wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Harry panted as he tidied his torn collar, glancing at Allen, who was walking beside him unscathed and even yawning, a trace of grievance flashing in his eyes, but he dared not say anything.

The view suddenly opened up, and a cobblestone street appeared before them, lined with various strange magic shops.

Diagon Alley!

"Alright, first stop, Gringotts!" Hagrid pointed to the towering white marble building at the end. "It's the safest place in the magical world, except for Hogwarts."

Stepping into the bronze and silver gates of Gringotts, Goblins with sour faces and long fingers stood on both sides.

"Good morning, we're here to withdraw some money." Hagrid walked to the highest counter and said to the Goblin who was examining a ruby with a magnifying glass.

"Do you have the key, sir?" The Goblin asked arrogantly, not even lifting his head.

Hagrid rummaged through the pockets of his moleskin coat for a long time, first pulling out a handful of moldy dog biscuits, then pulling out a small gold key.

"This is Mr. Harry Potter's vault key." Hagrid slammed it onto the table.

Harry tugged at Hagrid's sleeve in embarrassment: "Hagrid, I don't have any money. The Dursley family wouldn't give me a penny."

Hearing this, Allen, who had been silent and half-squinting, twitched the corner of his mouth imperceptibly.

Yes, money. This was also the problem that gave Allen the biggest headache right now. Prices in the magical world were not low; he couldn't really rely on the Muggle pounds he swiped into his Portable Space to buy a wand, could he?

"No money?" Hagrid laughed as if he had heard a joke, shaking the chandeliers in the hall. "Harry, do you think your parents didn't leave you anything? This key is proof!"

"Oh, right!" Hagrid slapped his forehead. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned that the Potter Family inheritance situation is a bit special. Griphook!"

Hagrid shouted at another Goblin: "Take them to the vaults. James Potter and Lily Potter's vault, oh, and that other one..."

Hagrid turned to look at Allen, his expression suddenly becoming serious.

"Allen, Dumbledore checked the top-secret files of Gringotts. Because your father was James Potter's younger brother, according to the ancient property distribution contract of the Potter Family, the huge inheritance left by the Potter Family in Gringotts..."

Hagrid paused intentionally, his voice echoing in the hall.

"Is to be split equally between you and Harry!"

At these words, Harry was completely stunned.

Not only did he have a huge inheritance, but he had to split it with this cousin he had just met who was as cold as an ice block?

But this did not make Harry feel angry; instead, it stirred an inexplicable excitement in his heart.

He had money! More importantly, he really wasn't alone anymore; the Potter Family had a legacy!

Meanwhile, Allen, on the surface, still maintained his "I haven't woken up, don't bother me" deadpan expression, just nodding slightly.

"As it should be."

Four words, calm and without a ripple.

But beneath Allen's calm exterior, his heart jumped twice.

Half of the Potter Family inheritance!

What did this mean? It meant he didn't need to work hard, didn't need to count every penny to buy a few magic books. He had mastered the first huge sum of capital to stir up the magical world from the start!

"Follow me, Mr. Potters." The Goblin named Griphook showed a somewhat cunning smile, turned, and led them toward a door leading underground.

Riding the crazy mine cart like a roller coaster, they shuttled through the maze-like tunnels. Amidst the howling wind, Harry closed his eyes in fear, while Allen crossed his arms, steady as a mountain. At the moment the mine cart made a sharp turn, he even used a tiny spatial deflection force to pin himself to the seat, not even his clothes fluttering.

"We're here." The mine cart stopped in front of a pitch-black cave.

Griphook stepped forward and opened the door to Vault 687 with the small gold key.

As the heavy door slowly opened.

"Hiss—" Harry gasped.

Inside the vault, Galleons were piled up like mountains, and silver Sickles and knuts covered the floor like rivers. It was wealth enough to drive any poor boy who grew up in a cupboard instantly crazy.

Hagrid helped Harry fill a whole bag with gold coins.

"Next, it's yours, Mr. Allen Potter." Griphook turned his head and walked to a door next door that was obviously much older and engraved with complex magic runes.

"Your father's exclusive vault left behind. No key; it must verify the pure bloodline of the Potter Family."

Griphook extended his long fingers, signaling Allen to step forward.

Allen stepped forward and, following Griphook's instructions, placed his palm on the recessed crystal in the center of the door.

"Hum—!"

The door emitted a dull roar, and dust fell down.

The door opened.

Compared to the crudely piled mountain of gold in Harry's vault, Allen's vault appeared much more profound. It also contained countless Galleons, but in the deepest part of the vault, there was a black stone table.

On the stone table, a vintage ebony box lay quietly, along with a letter sealed with magic.

The moment Allen stepped into the vault, the "Portable Space" in his mind, which had always been in a stable state, suddenly trembled violently! It was like a shark smelling blood, the space laws actually generated a strong desire for something in this vault.

Allen narrowed his eyes slightly.

He walked quickly to the stone table, and as soon as his palm touched the ebony box, a surging spatial magic force instantly poured into his body along his fingertips.

"Click."

The box popped open.

Inside was not gold coins, but a cracked pocket watch emitting a faint blue light.

A flash of uncontrollable ecstasy finally crossed Allen's deep black eyes; he could feel that this cracked pocket watch contained the terrifying residual power of time and space!

"The wreckage of a time-turner?"

He gripped the cracked pocket watch tightly.

It seemed that the foundation of the Potter Family was far deeper than what was shown in the original work.

"Then, the good show officially begins." Allen threw the cracked pocket watch into his Portable Space without hesitation, turned, and looked at Harry, who was still in shock outside the door, a cruel and expectant smile curling at the corner of his mouth.