Harry's POV
The ride down to his trust vault was fun, with the speed and all the twist and turns. Harry had a blast riding down and was a bit disappointed it didn't last longer. The goblin took his key and opened the door. The smoke that came out was a bit disconcerting, but our hero bravely ventured in. He took a quick look around the stone room, noted there was only money, so he grabbed some of the gold and silver. He'd figure out what the dominations were later. Getting back in the wonderful cart, they then went to the Potter's main vault, which was vast and had tons of coins, furniture, trunks, books, portraits, and other household items. Harry figured they expanded the inside to hold all of this. He thought up a quick counting spell in his head and it came back as millions of Galleons. He was ecstatic that he would never have to live on the streets again. Plans were forming in his mind.
He looked at all the stuff and noticed that there were loads of trunks full of books, which Harry quickly minimized and put in his TARDIS pocket. He then filled a few more with the loose books laying about. There didn't seem to be anything from his parents, so he was hopeful that the Evans vault held something. The ride there was just as thrilling, but the teen wondered if it was at the top of the tunnels, why didn't they go there first?
After Snarlfist opened the door to his mum's vault, Harry went inside. It appeared as if she had been trying to build a library, maybe to take advantage of the bank's security? Being the pragmatic person he now was, he could see why she would want to keep a library here at Gringotts. The walls were lined with half-full bookshelves and such, and the center of the vault had more trunks full of tomes, a tool chest, some sawhorses, and planks of wood.
He glanced around and spied a cozy red chair in the back with a tiny end table next to it. On the table sat a brown leather book that had the simple word 'Diary' in gold-leaf on the front. That almost brought a tear to the orphan's eye as he reached over and picked it up. He opened the first page and noticed that it was written in the style of a little girl, so he flipped to the back and was relieved to see grownup handwriting. He reverently tucked the book in his pocket and looked around some more.
Making a quick decision, he unloaded his pocket of all the trunks.
"Sort," he said to the air as he waved his hand, and the books soared off the shelves and out of trunks, and into piles that were organized by topic and author. He waved at the empty trunks and said "Potter vault," making them vanish, hopefully to the vault.
"TARDIS," he said, waving his hand to encompass the whole room, and with sound of stone groaning, the vault expanded.
Harry then glared at the wood and said, "Multiple." And then there was suddenly a lot more wood, nails and tools. "Build." And much noise was heard as the wood was magically sawed into proper size, and hammers and nails worked as they assembled the bookshelves.
"Shelve," was the next order and the pile of books disappeared and reappeared on to the appropriate shelves. It took about ten minutes and when all was said and done there was a nice library in the vault.
"Magical Theory books, here," he stated, and all the books of that subject flew into a stack, which Harry shrunk, tied together with conjured twine, and put in his pocket. "Diaries," he commanded, and all those landed at his feet. He created a bag for these and gently placed them in his pocket. He figured there might be some of his ancestors ramblings as well. He'd read his parents' first and then go backwards from there.
Snarlfist, who had been watching, was warily looking at the teen he had been rude to. Never had he seen such casual use of magic, and it didn't set off the alarms. Since the boy hadn't used a wand, he couldn't get him for breaking the rules since the wording made no mention of wandless magic. "That was rather amazing," he said to the young man.
"Oops," the embarrassed teen said sheepishly as he turned to his audience. "Sorry, I forgot you were there. I think we need to have a bit of a talk. Now I don't know how goblins work, but my magic is my secret weapon. I hear there is a Dork Lord, or some other pretentious title, after me. So I offer you one of two deals. One you make a vow to keep my secret, or two, I go MIB on you," the teen said seriously.
"What is MIB?" the goblins asked with a tilt of his head.
"I take and replace the memory," was the succinct answer.
The goblin thought hard on this. He really didn't want to piss this child off, and if it got out that Potter could perform such great feats of wandless magic then the boy would automatically think it was him. Snarlfist didn't know what the powerful wizard could do to him, so he said, "Do the latter. Do try to make it believable. We are not nice, so don't try and make it a happy memory."
"Okay," the surprised Harry said and waved his hand and said, "Forget." He made sure to replace the blank spot with the memory that the vault had always been this way, and that the goblin had been impatiently waiting for him to finish reading. He quickly called up a book, which happened to be his mum journal, and opened it.
"Will you hurry up," Snarlfist snapped at the boy in front of him, who was reading a book for goodness sake. What did the brat think this was… a librar