The younger elf waved a hammer at Harry before returning to work.
"The only one who'd ever be mean to an elf is one who doesn't know what a proper family is," Cadogan finished. "My brother," the man began again, back in his chipper tone, "he's got a couple of Ungo's kids with him - turns out they were all thumbs when it came to shoes-"
Harry saw Ungo shake his head sadly.
"-So Carl took those two with him to break into the elf-made wine market. Guess he hopes those thumbs are green, eh?"
And with that the conversation was back on its whirlwind tour of topics. Harry didn't mind, he found it a very easy way to spend the time. Not having to add anything to the conversation gave him a very interesting look at the wizarding world. No one ever thought about the man who made their shoes let alone what he thought of things.
Just as Harry was beginning to get nervous about the time, Ungo and his son - who Harry had learned was named Mungo after the animal hide they used - which in turn was named for a wizarding explorer relative of some famous healer - presented Cadogan with their finished work.
"Oh, well look at that! My how time flies," Cadogan cried.
After a bit of prodding from the shop owner's wand, each shoe was declared ready for wear.
"You wrap your feet in these," he said, "and tell me you've felt the like."
Harry's feet were in heaven. They had died, gone to heaven, and were never coming back. It was like he had stuck his feet into a warm stiff pudding. The only word he could think to describe how it felt was supple.
"That's the black Adadan they went with for the outside, sole looked to be Mungo. Charmed to reduce wear and any sort of smell. Should do you fine in rain or snow, plenty of grip - just don't go swimming in them. Well, what do you think?" he prompted.
"They're the best shoes I've ever had," Harry said honestly.
"Splendid," Cadogan smiled. "You want me to do for these?" he asked, gesturing to the remains of Harry's trainers with his wand.
"Er- No, better not," Harry said. "You got anything I can take them in?"
With a look that said Harry was crazier for taking them than he would be to blast them to bits, he produced a nondescript box to hide them in.
"Now," a smiling Cadogan said, presenting Harry with a quill and the outline of his own feet. "Sign here please."
A quick Harry Potter later and his parchment was given pride of place on Cadogan's Wall of Fashionable Feet, between Dumbledore and Fudge. Harry thought if Cadogan ever managed to trip Snape into his chair for an hour at least he'd be in good company if the potions master ever tried to taunt him about it later.
With no less than three invites back should he ever have the need Harry found himself back out in the main alley throng, though his feet certainly felt the difference. Different certainly seemed the apt description for him today as every other eye in the alley darted back to get a second look at his robes. In his haste to blend in it seemed he picked the one thing sure to draw everyone's attention.
It was then that Harry began to appreciate just how omnipresent Hogwarts was in his new world. 'No wonder these people can spot a rogue robe the length of the alley, ' Harry thought. 'They'd all been there too. '
Spotting the shop he was sure he had gotten the robes at in the first place - a place called Malkins - Harry angled his way over.
"Sorry," Harry said to the ladies inside as he checked his watch, "but I don't have a lot of time. Do you think you could do something so I don't look like I just escaped from school?"
"Oh dear," the lady he recognized from last year said. "You certainly are out of time, aren't you? You realize it's summer? I'll sort you out," she chuckled.
A few waves of Madam Malkin's wand had the Gryffindor crest gone, the tie a nice deep green, and she even added an inch or so of length to where Harry had grown since his last visit.
"There you go," Madam Malkin smiled. "Now off you go before I change my mind and charge you," she said with a shooing motion.
"Lasts the day," her curly-haired assistant called. "For any more you stay and pay."
"Oh, that's a good one," Malkin said to her as she hustled Harry back to the door. "I'll have to remember that one later."
Now feeling pleasantly unremarkable Harry was able to finish his trip to the gleaming white bank, hitting the doors at five-past ten.
Even with the steady trickle of clients fueling the weekend shopping outside less than half of the teller stalls had a goblin manning them so that each one of them had a queue. One goblin he did note stood alone on the far side of the hall in a pin-striped suit. Hands clasped in front of him and bald head slowly swiveling, his eyes never rested anywhere for long. Harry immediately marked him out as some sort of manager. Making his way over, he pulled out his letter for reference.
"Excuse me," Harry said.
Instantly he was the focus of those appraising eyes. Harry was sure they took in everything from his disheveled hair and rumpled letter to the newness of his shoes.
"I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find - er - F. M. Gropegold? I think I might have an appointment."
Whatever the goblin's appraisal was Harry must have passed for he smiled. It didn't reach its eyes.
"Financial Manager Gropegold just came in and should be available. Gringotts appreciates your timely visit, Mr. Potter. This way please," the goblin said and started towards a large bronze door without a backwards glance.
The door closed behind them, shutting out the sound of the bustling lobby, and Harry found himself in a hallway running the entire back length of the building, filled with doors to what must be very small offices.
"Gropegold's office is right down there," the goblin said, "third on the left from the end."
Harry turned to thank his guide only to find that the little man had vanished.