A numb Harry Potter appeared in the gloomy basement kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. He had a surprisingly smooth landing compared to all his previous attempts of using one; only his right knee buckled when the colourful trip ended. It took but a moment for him to regain his bearings before he stood up straight. He put the kettle on the table of the kitchen and made an attempt to walk towards the living room.
"Yet another blood-traitor child steps foot in the home of my noble lords..."
"KREACHER," shouted Harry the moment he saw the wrinkled, ancient elf, causing it to freeze. He motioned for the Elf to come closer.
"Are you aware that I am a member of the Black family?" Harry inquired in a soft tone, causing Kreacher's eyes to narrow.
"You can't b-"
"Are you aware that I am the great-grandson of Dorea Potter née Black? Who, by the way, is still on the tapestry and her and her descendants remain members of the Black family?" Harry interrupted with a very obvious impatient tone. Kreacher's eyes widened fractionally.
"You also know that Sirius is my godfather. Sirius is your Lord, Kreacher. Now let me explain what that means. I have the full capacity to set you free for disobeying your Lord," said Harry as he took off his robe and the shirt underneath, revealing a slim yet toned torso. "But we both know that this isn't the greatest idea since you keep many secrets about the order."
Kreacher's eyes got a triumphant gleam.
"But I can still kill you, can't I, Kreacher?" Harry added in a sickly-sweet and quiet tone.
Kreacher's eyes lost their triumphant gleam, which got replaced with a hint of fear.
"Am I understood, Kreacher? You will no longer disobey Sirius Orion Black as long as he is your lord. And you will stop running around and spouting nonsense related to blood purity," he said with a tone of finality in his voice. The elf bowed its head obediently.
"I understand, Master Harry Potter," the elf responded and disappeared with a soft crack, plunging the room into momentary silence.
"I never expected a show like that Harry," the voice of Sirius Black said, echoing from the shadows in the stairwell just outside the kitchen door. The rugged former inmate of Azkaban prison stepped forward and hugged his godson for a short reunion. "Please tell me you don't mean all that about killing?"
"Honestly Sirius, with all of the things that I have just learnt and the situation we are in, that is the least of my worries. But no, I would never kill an innocent, not even a being like Kreacher," the young wizard responded as he plopped down on the chair of a kitchen. "I had a discussion with Dumbledore."
"About what?" Sirius inquired as he sat down opposite of his godson. "Wait, before you tell me," he whipped his head around and yelled, "KREACHER, FOOD!"
The elf appeared with an obnoxiously loud crack this time, startling Harry who chose not to comment.
"I can't speak about it," said Harry as Kreacher started preparing cold sandwiches. "The only thing I can say is that we need to chase trinkets scattered around Britain before we can even fight Voldemort." Kreacher levitated the two tasty looking sandwiches while he was watching the Potter Scion speaking. "But Dumbledore doesn't believe they are simple trinkets. It's more likely that they are priceless artefacts."
The elf disappeared with a soft crack. Neither wizard noticed the curious and shocked look in his eyes.
"Huh. That sounds weird. Makes it sound like Voldy lives through them," Sirius quipped. He didn't miss the tiny quirk of Harry's lips. "He does live through them?"
"I've already said too much," the boy responded. "But I will seriously ask you to keep this to yourself. Only me and Dumbledore know the specifics, and I wouldn't even know any of it if I didn't pressure him," he added and then looked at Sirius with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Can't be that hard to take this seriously, it's in your name."
A faked hurt expression decorated Sirius' face before he lost control of it and erupted into laughter. Harry spent that time observing his godfather; thankfully, he had fully recovered physically. The mental aspect wasn't that easy to take care of, but he was holding on well enough. A fleeting thought about Mind Healers passed through his head but he put it back on the drawing board.
"Where are the others?" the boy inquired as he looked around and noticed the heavy silence inside the house.
"St. Mungo's. They left the moment their mother sent a message that she was going to the Hospital. You were supposed to go there too, Arthur wants to see you," said Sirius. "But Dumbledore ordered that you stay inside tonight to rest. You will see Arthur when he returns here. For now, you must simply eat and go to bed. But before that, I want to know. How did you know?"
Harry's eyes locked with his godfather's and he slowly swallowed his bite. He briefly recalled his conversation with Dumbledore.
"Professor, why did I see that dream through the snake's eyes?" Harry inquired. Dumbledore eyed him carefully before speaking.
"Your scar. It hurts when you are near Voldemort or his Horcruxes, right?"
Harry nodded.
"It appears that his failed attempt to kill you caused some... side-effects. You are the only person to survive the Killing Curse. We cannot know what kind of effect that moment had. But to me, it appears that you are linked to him through your scar. To him and the pieces of his soul. You might also be able to see visions of him; or his soul pieces."
"But how does that explain me seeing through the snake?"
"I can't claim to know everything about Horcruxes. I only know the bare minimum. It is an extremely hard piece of information to find and even harder to research. But I would believe that a Horcrux is not limited to inanimate objects."
Harry took some moments to digest the Headmaster's words. Dread started to fill him up slowly.
"Professor? Could... Could I... Be a Horcrux?" Harry hesitantly asked. A twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes.
"I doubt that. I doubt he intended to make a Horcrux out of you, especially since he wanted you dead. But even if he made you one accidentally, you have nothing to fear. A tiny, accidental fragment of his soul inside you is insignificant. He cannot overpower your complete soul. It would explain your connection, certainly, but as I already said; this is uncharted territory. We know nothing about these concepts to know for certain. If you are, the worst thing you'll have to do is become a Master Occlumens."
"But Professor... How can you say that? I have caught myself multiple times this year in uncontrollable and irrational bouts of rage. Sometimes.... I sometimes feel possessed, Professor!" Harry yelled, fear colouring his voice. The Headmaster, however, simply smiled.
"Harry, every human is entitled to rage and anger. You also have a bit of an issue regarding your anger. You are not a bad person, however, nor possessed if you simply get angry, if you lash out and if you make irrational decisions. You are supposed to feel anger. And sadness. And sorrow. And happiness , joy, hope, fear and dread," the Headmaster said as he opened his drawer and pulled a kettle. "And love. You are supposed to feel all of this. Even if they lead you to make mistakes. No human is perfect, Harry. I should know, I have walked this earth for more than one hundred years. And I can safely say that I'm probably one of the most flawed humans out there. Don't forget Harry that you are also human. One under an unbelievable amount of stress, not only from your OWLs."
Harry didn't notice that his breathing had calmed and his nerves were soothed by the words of Dumbledore. It was also not the first time something like this happened during a discussion with the Headmaster.
"You see, I tend to forget in my age that not everyone is as old as me and as weathered. I might be holding up fine against all of the Ministry and the Prophet's propaganda. But how about you? Of course you can't see it the way I am. You are supposed to lash out at some point under all of that stress." Dumbledore's smile never faded as he was reassuring the dark haired wizard in front of him.
"Thank you, Professor. Thank you, I really needed that," Harry muttered as he stood up.
"And let's not forget the most important part, my boy," said Dumbledore as his eyes twinkled mischievously. "You are going through puberty and you're not seeing a girl from what I know. Unless you are exceptionally good at hiding her."
The embarrassment Harry felt at Dumbledore's last words crept up upon his face once more, much to Sirius' amusement.
"Harry, I meant to ask you about your sexual preferences at some point, but thinking about that while I ask you about the att-"
"NO!" Harry almost screamed and he turned to a glowing tomato-red. "I just thought about something Dumbledore said."
"I mean, I don't mind homosexuality, but with Dumble-"
"NO, SIRIUS NO!" Harry yelled again as he threw his empty plate towards his godfather who vanished it with a flick of his wand, laughing all the while. "Fuck no, Sirius, please stop." Harry said as he crushed his embarrassment mentally with a metric ton of effort. "I will tell you what all of that meant after I tell you how I knew about Mr. Weasley."
Sirius tried to stop laughing, but when he figured he couldn't, he made an awkward hand gesture to tell Harry to keep going.
Harry's lips stretched to a thin line as he described his dream to his godfather, point of view included. Sirius slowly got serious as he digested his godson's dream.
"Has Dumbledore talked to you about it?" the older man inquired.
"Yes, and he said it's nothing to be wary off," Harry responded in a calm manner. He couldn't explain the things he had discussed with Dumbledore, but he could reassure the others. "Something about the moment Voldemort tried to kill me, connecting me to him and allowing me to see glimpses of his actions."
"But, you saw through the snake," Sirius contradicted with narrowed eyes.
"Probably because Voldemort was controlling it," said Harry with a shrug. Sirius hummed.
"Is it possible that Voldemort can see through you?"
"Probably. But not yet. That is also the reason why I will take lessons in Occlumency," Harry added.
"Let me guess. Snivellus?" Sirius quipped and the young wizard nodded with a chuckle. "As much as I don't like the man, he is a master in the Mind Arts. You can't learn proper Occlumency from anyone better."
"Well, Snape doesn't have the best track record when it comes to teaching me..." Harry mumbled and his eyes darkened. Flashes of Snape's unfair treatment and bullying passed through his vision.
"Let me guess. He takes out his hatred of your father on you," said Sirius. "Honestly, that man can't let go of a grudge..."
"What do you mean Sirius?" Harry asked in a serious tone.
"That is not something that I'm supposed to discuss. I suggest Snivellus tells you on his own," his godfather replied and with a flick vanished his plate. "Now, tell me why you got all red and embarrassed, young man."
Harry looked like he bit on a particularly sour lemon. "Do I have to?"
"Yes. Yes you do."
Harry groaned. "We were discussing something about anger issues and he noted that I am going through puberty and that I have no one by my side," he said vaguely. Of course, Sirius understood that he was referring to a romantic relationship.
"Well. Do you?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"No," the boy responded lamely. He was telling the truth, but something in the back of his mind was roaring in protest. He obviously wanted a relationship like that, despite his own issues.
"Yes you do. Who is it?"
"Sirius."
"Is it Hermione? No, it doesn't feel right, you have a sibling bond going on."
"Sirius."
"Maybe young Ginevra?"
"Sir- wait, what has Ginny got to do with this?" the boy asked in confusion, yet he was ignored.
"No no, if it was you wouldn't be confused…" Sirius said as he trailed off, rapping his fingers on the wooden table. "Could it be the Greengrass girl that joined you?"
"Sirius, for Merlin's sake," Harry hissed as he was progressively turning a deeper shade of crimson.
"Oh wow, the young Occlumens can't stop blushing," the older man quipped in an amused tone. Whether he gathered anything useful from his pointless and tactless interrogation or not, only he knew. "Now, unless you have anything else, I suggest you go to bed."
Harry was observing his godfather with a blank expression, trying to understand his thought processes. He figured he couldn't and he shook his head. "I have one more thing, actually," the dark haired wizard said as he stood up. "I'm supposed to go to Gringotts tomorrow."
"Ah!" Sirius said with a cheerful expression as he stood up as well. "That's what I forgot about when you turned fifteen! You can become an Heir of a Noble House!"
"Nobody remembered, Sirius," said Harry with a hint of bitterness.
"It's a bigger fault of mine. Especially since you are Heir Black, as well," said Sirius, causing Harry's eyes to widen. "Since you have our blood running through your veins, you can become the Heir of House Black if you happen to be the closest relative of mine when I die. But, you are also my godson, so I'm legally allowed to choose to make you my Heir."
"But, can I hold two Heirships?" Harry asked.
"You can hold multiple Lordships, Harry. It's not common, but it happens occasionally. And I was supposed to inform you about your Heirship, but... I forgot about it." Sirius sheepishly rubbed the back of his head with a goofy grin on his face. Despite the bashful attitude exhibited by the older man, Harry couldn't miss the shadow that hovered in his eyes.
Sirius didn't justforget about it like it was nothing. Sirius simply couldn't remember properly. He was unable to do many mind related things after his imprisonment. Prolonged Dementor exposure was unhealthy, to say the least.
"How did you do it?"
"What do you mean, Harry?"
Harry huffed in annoyance. "How did you make me your Heir?"
"It's pretty simple, actually. You know how much I hated my parents, right?" Harry nodded. "Well, I decided that connecting my family with the Potters would be the best course of action. James had no issue with that, so I ran my idea through grandfather Arcturus. He agreed with me and wrote an elaborate will, stating that should I ever become Lord Black my Heir would be Henry James Potter."
"Wait. Henry?"
"It's your official name, your birth name." Sirius shrugged. "Though you should not worry about it, it's pretty much worthless outside of the Wizengamot and magical oaths."
"I-... I don't know what to say…" said Harry with a blank look. "Thank you, Sirius. Just… thank you," Harry said as he hugged his godfather, suppressing the uneasy feeling he got with physical contact.
Sirius returned the hug. "It's nothing, pup. I can't wait to see the ring on you, you know. I used to wear it before I was imprisoned. I bet you'll look dashing with it on."
"Well, we will do that tomorrow. For now, I really want to sleep. Preferably with a potion of Dreamless Sleep." Harry said as he released his godfather.
"Well, I can't do that tomorrow, really. I can't show my face in the Alley. But you will go with Dumbledore; all the relevant documents were signed the moment I became your godfather anyway. My wanted status can't change that." Kreacher suddenly appeared with a soft crack and handed him a vial of Dreamless Sleep, and he in turn gave it to Harry.
Harry stood motionless, silently observing his godfather. He couldn't fathom the lengths that Sirius had gone to in order to secure his future. It was also a testament to how much he loathed his own parents. He basically surrendered his House to his best friend's son fourteen years ago. Harry smiled gently.
"Thank you again, Sirius. For everything. And don't worry, we will clear your name," Harry stated with a certain confidence as he climbed up the stairs, bringing a smile on his godfather's face.
"I know you will, Harry."
x
"... I know Dumbledore trusts him. That should be more than enough for any of you. And Molly, for Merlin's sake; you have nothing to be sceptical about," the familiar voice of Sirius Black chimed from the corridor.
"But he saw through-"
"And you should be thankful he did! There is no chance Harry could be possessed by a connection like that, you should know better!"
The rugged voice that interrupted Molly Weasley was familiar to Harry who was trying to wake up. Being familiar didn't mean Harry had positive feelings about it, however. He had experience with Barty Crouch Jr. impersonating the retired auror; it was natural that he couldn't associate Alastor Moody's voice with positive memories.
"Besides, the Headmaster already announced that Harry was progressing in Occlumency. You're just shaken, Molly. My little cousin is fine, don't worry about it."
Harry stood up from his bed and recovered his glasses from the nightstand. He couldn't recognize the cheery female voice that came from the corridor calling him little cousin and he had enough of trying to guess who was coming to his room. He swung the door open the moment a pink-haired girl tried to knock on it.
The result was a spectacular failure, courtesy of Nymphadora Tonks, who lost her balance and fell on the young dark haired wizard, knocking both of them on the wooden floor; an event caused by unnecessary momentum and force utilised by the trainee auror for the simple action of knocking on the door.
Harry felt the wind leave his lungs as his godfather snorted. Before he could try to get Tonks off of him, however, the young auror had already stood up, grinning at him with the slight pink tinge of embarrassment on her face.
"Wotcher, cousin. I am Nymphadora Tonks, but please, call me Tonks," said the young woman as she extended her hand to help him get to his feet. The Potter Scion eyed her with narrowed eyes, but he accepted the outstretched hand all the same. His brain was trying to understand why the girl in front of him was calling him cousin. He also noticed her hair.
"Wasn't your hair pink when I opened the door? Why is it a light red now?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. His eyes widened when he saw the hair changing fluidly through a spectrum of colours.
"I'm a Metamorphmagus, little cousin," Tonks explained in a jovial tone. "I believe you know what that is?"
"I know what it is. But why do you keep calling me cousin, Nymphadora?" Harry asked, genuinely confused. His confusion further intensified when he saw her hair change to a deep, fiery red.
"Don't call me Nymphadora," she hissed through gritted teeth, glaring at the young wizard. She took a deep breath and tried to relax, her hair turning purple in the process. "But of course you don't know that. I just hate my name, so please just call me Tonks."
"No."
"Wha-"
"I'll just call you Dora then. You honestly have a beautiful name, but I can't go against your wishes and call you that," Harry retorted in a calm manner. "Also, judging by your name, you seem to be descended by the Black family. The Blacks often have extremely beautiful names, really. That also answers my question as to why I am referred to as 'little cousin'. But I would love to know how exactly we are related."
To Harry, his dignified manner of speech was the norm nowadays. It was a product of the basic Occlumency he developed, organising his thoughts and reigning in his emotions. He found it hard to get flustered and lose control of a situation, thus enabling him to carefully choose his words without missing a beat. With his Occlumency, he had doubled - even tripled - his speed of thought; all of that greatly improved his communication and stance against other people. It was in line with Daphne's simple, yet blunt words.
"Harry, you will be on the Wizengamot. You are also the most famous wizard in the world apart from Dumbledore. You need to be able to stand in front of the Wizengamot and in front of the press. You can't expect to win the hearts of people and sway them by stuttering and getting flustered, nor by speaking like a countryside muggle"
Harry of course understood what Daphne taught him. He intended to make it a habit to speak and handle himself like this, as proven in front of Nymphadora Tonks.
Being the norm for Harry and his friends didn't mean the same applied to the people in front of him, if their bewildered expressions were anything to go by.
"Wasn't he supposed to be raised by Muggles?" Tonks whispered to Sirius. She failed spectacularly; Harry wouldn't be surprised if the portrait of Walburga Black heard his cousin's whisper. She then turned to Harry. "In your case, you could also be called Hadrian. Why are you using Harry and not Hadrian?"
"Because I was named Harry," the boy deadpanned.
Sirius waved her off and turned to Harry. "Tonks here is the daughter of my cousin Andromeda. Andromeda is my first cousin, daughter of uncle Cygnus, along with her sisters Bellatrix and Narcissa."
"Ah yes, Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy," said Harry nonchalantly, a hint of ice creeping up his vocal cords. He glanced momentarily towards Tonks and returned his eyes to his godfather.
"While I agree about dear old Bella, Cissy is not like that. She is probably the most gentle Black you can meet," Sirius responded. Tonks further added to that argument, stating that 'aunt Cissy' was her favourite aunt, despite meeting her rarely and under heavy secrecy. The only one who obviously wanted to say otherwise was Molly, who looked like she had swallowed a peeled lemon whole.
That piece of information about Narcissa was very interesting to Harry but he filed it in a corner of his mind for later use.
"Harry dear, are you alright? You seem a little agitated," said the Weasley matriarch; whether it was genuine concern or an attempt to steer the conversation away from the Malfoys - or Slytherins, in general - no one knew. Perhaps, it was both.
"Yes, Ms. Weasley. I just woke up rather abruptly, to be honest," Harry responded in a cool manner, causing Moody to snort.
"You should be thankful you woke up before we approached the door, boy. You'd have a worse awakening if we did," the former auror responded.
"What do you-"
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The rugged man roared, startling Harry and cutting him off, causing him to lightly jump.
Well, it appeared Harry could get flustered, after all.
"Right..." Harry mumbled behind his breath. He turned to look at the red-head witch. "How is Mr. Weasley? Sirius told me that everything was under control, but I really want to know."
"He is stable and fully conscious. I... I want to thank you Harry. If you didn't have this... This vision... We might have lost Arthur," the Weasley matriarch spoke. She tried to control herself, she really did, but she was always an emotional person. Before she could even complete her sentence she pulled Harry into a bone-breaking, motherly hug and started sobbing.
Harry heard her outside his door as he woke up. Despite the negative nature of their discussion about him, he couldn't feel hurt, betrayed, or even angry at her words. He would think the same about him if he were in her shoes. If he didn't have the discussion with Dumbledore the night before, he might have genuinely believed that he was the one who attacked Arthur Weasley.
"This is cute and all," Moody grunted, "but we need to be going. Albus is waiting outside of Gringotts and Mr. Potter over here is already late."
Hearing the auror's words, Harry hurriedly broke the hug the red-haired witch had locked him in. With a hasty nod he scrambled back into his room to get dressed, closing the door behind him. He started emptying his trunk in an attempt to find appropriate robes for the occasion. His frantic and anxious behaviour was natural.
He had a legacy to claim, after all.
x
"Ah! Harry! So glad you made it in a timely fashion," quipped Albus Dumbledore as Harry passed through the floo in the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed that the Headmaster was in particularly high spirits that day, if his joyful attitude was anything to go by. "When you live as long as I have, you will find waiting motionless in the same spot for thirty minutes becomes particularly draining."
"You know that I slept around six hours ago, right Professor?" Harry deadpanned in response. "Just seven hours ago I left Hogwarts. While I did ask for it, I didn't expect it to happen that fast."
"It makes for a great Christmas present, my boy. And I suspect Christmas day will be pretty hectic as is," said the Professor with brightly twinkling eyes. "Shall we go?"
"Yes sir."
As the professor and student duo started walking at a slow pace, Dumbledore found it appropriate to engage in some small talk. "I do hope that you haven't drained yourself thinking about the incident concerning Arthur."
"No sir. I have simply accepted it. There is nothing to be done to change the past and fiddling with a Time-turner isn't the wisest of solutions," Harry responded. Dumbledore looked at him with obvious pride and his eyes twinkled even more.
"Indeed, a wise train of thought. You have nothing to be blamed for. I hope you do not forget that you are innocent in matters you have no control over. You don't need to place the blame upon yourself. Trust me, I speak from experience."
Harry eyed the elder man carefully. As always, Dumbledore spoke the right words at the right time. The Boy-Who-Lived always had trouble with the blame game. In fact, he would always pile the blame on himself; a nasty habit he picked up as he was raised with the Dursleys. He was the freak, therefore he was responsible for every bad thing that happened in their family.
His train of thought wasn't healthy and it always led him towards the darkest paths. One example being Cedric's death; Harry couldn't stop it and had no part of the blame. Yet he somehow managed to feel responsible and feel like shit for months; his reasoning being that since he accepted touching the Cup together with Cedric, he was responsible for dragging him to the graveyard.
Thankfully, Daphne helped him a lot in that regard. Even if she had no idea what was going on inside Harry's mind.
"I am trying my hardest to not go down that path, Professor," Harry coolly responded. "Certain... People," Harry suddenly stopped in front of a certain shop named Richard Blink's Lapidary and briefly observed a beautiful sapphire necklace on display before continuing his path towards Gringotts, "have helped me deal with that specific issue. You see, Professor, the house I grew up in tried really hard to establish the fact that I was to blame for everything."
The Headmaster didn't fail to detect the hint of cold steel in Harry's voice. For a brief moment he looked like years of exhaustion piled on him. "I am terribly sorry for my mistakes, Harry. Had I known earlier that they treated you this way..."
"It's okay, Professor. I understand that I was sent there to be protected."
"Of course. But unfortunately, you were not protected from the inside. I thought that having Arabella watching over you was enough but..."
"But they did a spectacular job in hiding my treatment. I should know, I was forced to hide it," Harry spat back with a grimace. Harry had a vague idea of his protection in Number 4 Privet Drive. His research and studies on spells reached all the way to blood magic. From his brief research on the topic, he realised that blood magic was heavily oriented to warding and healing. While he didn't have the full picture, he was aware that Petunia sharing his mother's blood had something to do with it.
"I was protected through blood magic, right Professor?" Harry asked in a quiet voice after he crushed his rage under his Occlumency.
"You are correct. Am I to assume that you have researched the topic of blood magic, Harry?" Dumbledore asked and Harry merely nodded. "You should also know of sacrificial magic, then." Harry nodded once more. "I always speak about love being the reason you are alive. I know that it sounds incredibly vague; I dare say it sounds 'cheesy', as the youth might say, but it is the truth, or half of it. I am fairly certain that your mother's sacrifice, which was made out of love for you, triggered some sort of magic relating to said sacrifice, using her blood as a medium. If I were to describe it, I'd say that her will to die in your stead triggered the spell. By giving her life away to save you from Voldemort specifically, she made it impossible for Voldemort to kill you, her own blood. I made the blood wards of your aunt's house based on that speculation."
"Then it is no longer safe for me to return to them," Harry said after some moments of silence. Dumbledore turned to look at him wide-eyed.
"What do you mean, my boy?"
"I mean that currently Voldemort is protected by the wards. Not repelled. He was reborn using my blood, Professor," said Harry nonchalantly as he turned to look at his Headmaster. He wished he didn't; the ashen look and horror-filled eyes of Dumbledore were an odd, rare and off-putting sight.
"I- I didn't..." Dumbledore sighed as he rubbed his temples. "I am once again, terribly sorry Harry. I didn't consider the implications for a moment. We will need to find something to change that. Perhaps Grimmauld Place would be appropriate. As your legal guardian, I can do changes like that without an issue."
The pair finally arrived in front of the gates of Gringotts and entered the magnificent marble building.
"It's alright Professor. I myself just thought about it," Harry responded with a lop-sided grin which seemed to provide some relief to Dumbledore. Both of them arrived in front of the goblin head teller.
"May your gold flow, teller," Harry greeted politely. He had done extensive research in goblin traditions with Daphne. He figured that keeping a good relationship with the bank would aid him in the long run. Apart from the respectful greetings, Harry also picked up some tricks and responses that would help him during meetings with the goblins of Gringotts. Dumbledore was obviously very proud of Harry's manners.
It was rare for the Headmaster to be this open about his thoughts and feelings. Harry thought he had made quite an impact with his mental growth.
"May your enemies fall, Mr. Potter," the teller responded with a short nod towards the young wizard. Whether he was surprised that the wizard knew of goblin traditions, he didn't show. "I believe your guardian requested a meeting with the Potter Family manager?"
"That is correct, teller," Dumbledore answered.
"Very well. Go through the corridor left of me and knock on the fourth door on your right. You will be speaking with Accountant Ragnok. May your gold flow, Mr. Potter."
"My thanks, teller Bloodtooth," Harry responded with a respectful nod. "May your enemies fall."
The head teller merely nodded and Harry along with his guardian walked to the office of Ragnok. Harry knocked three times.
"Enter."
Harry opened the door and walked towards the desk where an older goblin with a jet-black business suit was seated. "May your gold flow, Accountant Ragnok."
"May your enemies fall, Mr. Potter," the goblin responded with a hint of delight in his features. "It is pleasing to see that the last of the Potters keeps the centuries old friendship with the goblins in high regard."
"It is more of my wish than mere duty, Accountant Ragnok. I see no reason to not be friendly with goblins, our current and future affairs notwithstanding," Harry responded politely. He was also completely unaware that he caught Dumbledore by surprise. The older wizard slowly felt his failures impact him harder and harder. He couldn't cope with the fact that Harry grew to be a respectful and mature wizard on his own. He, as his legal guardian, was the one supposed to help him grow and adjust to the wizarding world.
Albus Dumbledore then realised that he hadn't matured enough to avoid mistakes like these. Mistakes that made Voldemort who he was and mistakes that let Grindelwald run rampant across Europe. Thankfully, Harry had friends that guided him. He couldn't be happier of the outcome, despite being sad for letting Harry down.
He was grateful that he didn't pay for his mistakes yet again.
"Then it is more than pleasing. It is a breath of fresh air for a young wizard to have that opinion of us," Ragnok responded with a pleased, yet unsettling smile. "So, you have finally arrived to claim your position in the Potter family. I would have expected your guardian to bring you in when you turned fifteen," the goblin continued with a sneer towards the Headmaster.
"Alas, dear accountant, the circumstances were not ideal. In my age, there is a certain tendency to forget things, especially in our situation," Dumbledore responded in a kind manner with twinkling eyes, a tone of challenge and amusement colouring his voice.
"Ah yes, of course. The return of your Dark Lord, right Albus? I see the wizard kind is still as stupid as it always was. Sheep under the guidance of your incompetent Minister," the goblin bit back in a harsh manner. "Your people will doom everyone. And then you will turn against us because we will be working for the same dark wizards that you are trying to fight."
"As always, you are right Ragnok. I hope that the wizarding community of Britain will face the truth before summer," Dumbledore said in a placating manner. "But we are here for young Harry, not for the return of Lord Voldemort."
"Voldemort is no Lord, but yes, back to the matters at hand. Well, young is one way to call Mr. Potter," Ragnok said as he calmed down. "So, you are looking to claim your Lordship, Mr. Potter?"
"Wait. Lordship?" Harry asked incredulously. Even Dumbledore was taken aback by that revelation.
"Of course Lordship. Are you not looking to get emancipated? You're here to simply claim Heirship that is due in almost two years?" the goblin asked with obvious impatience dripping from his voice.
"I was wondering why you're not referring to young Harry as Heir," Dumbledore chimed in. "Care to inform us how emancipation is possible? There is no living Head of House that can emancipate Harry."
"There is none, but he can do it himself, courtesy of the Tri-Wizard nonsense you reinstated last year, Albus," the goblin supplied. Dumbledore did not respond. "You changed the ruling of the Triwizard Tournament to restrict who is eligible to join. Only wizards of age were allowed to participate in the tournament, yes?"
"That is correct."
"Of course, you know the power of the Goblet of Fire. The wizard bound by its selection is forced to follow any and all rules and stipulations of the tournament that uses the artefact, lest he loses his magic and potentially his life. You know that, of course." Dumbledore nodded. "Now comes the fun part. The rules stated that 'only wizards of age may participate in the Triwizard tournament', therefore declaring 'young' Harry over here, a wizard of age. Harry Potter was forced to be treated as an adult wizard in order to compete. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Potter is already an adult wizard, albeit unofficial, something that can be changed with a simple signature since he was subjected to the effects of the Goblet of Fire. That also happened in the presence of his legal guardian who also happened to be the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump at the time. Not to mention the Ministry officials that were involved with the Tournament; the Minister of Magic included."
Harry, in his shocked state, turned to look at Dumbledore. Much to his amusement, the Headmaster could be mistaken for an ice sculpture. Even his beard looked frozen in time.
"I will say it again. Despite the fact that Mr. Potter did not add his name in the Goblet, it was selected nonetheless. That made him an adult wizard, despite his age, in order to compete in the tournament. You know better than anyone that the Goblet cannot be fought when it chooses," Ragnok pressed on Dumbledore.
Silence descended in the room as the Headmaster was trying to figure out the implications and ramifications of that development. The only reason he did that was to detect danger in pursuing that course of action. Harry of course understood everything that was said so far.
Daphne did a great job with his tutoring.
"It cannot be fought, I suppose," said Dumbledore after a long pause. "But I must say that it is a very fortunate course of events. I cannot see anything wrong coming out of it. It also helps with some matters we had regarding young Harry's accommodations."
The young wizard's eyebrows shot up. "So, I should sign the emancipation?"
"Oh yes. That would be a boon for you, I am certain of that much," the Headmaster said with twinkling eyes.
"Perfect. If you please, Mr. Potter," the accountant said as he pulled a parchment and a black quill, which Harry quickly recognised as a blood quill. "It will sting for a bit, but you should be fine. A blood quill simply uses your blood to forge official documents."
"I am very well acquainted with that specific artefact, Accountant Ragnok," Harry said behind gritted teeth. The goblin's eyes went wide as Dumbledore's head snapped to the left to face Harry.
"A blood quill is a class six dark artefact created by the goblin society for use in the bank you are currently sitting in, Mr. Potter. Only Gringotts is authorised to use it and only to forge our documents," Ragnok said with obvious rage building up.
"Unfortunately, that does not seem to be the case," Harry responded as he raised his left fist; the words 'I shall not tell lies' were visible under the light.
"Harry, when did this happen?" Dumbledore asked with a worried expression. The twinkle was all but gone from his eyes.
"Professor Umbridge forced me to use it during detention," Harry coolly replied, causing the goblin to smash a fist through his desk. Dumbledore started moving towards the exit.
"SETTLE DOWN, ALBUS," the goblin roared from his desk as it repaired it with a wave of its hand. "You know better than me that you cannot do anything about this yet."
The Headmaster turned to face the goblin for a moment before returning to his position.
"I know, Ragnok. We have already discussed this, but I simply cannot let that vile creature torture my students."
"You know she will deny everything and your incompetent Minister will simply not let her be tried before the Wizengamot. Attacking her will be an even worse course of action, as you are surely aware," Ragnok spat back.
"I know," said Dumbledore, anger taking over his features and voice. "I cannot act against the vile parasite that has invaded Hogwarts because Fudge has the whole situation in a vice grip. One wrong move and me or Harry will be dragged further into the mud, or worse."
"Alas, that is what happens when wizards are sheep, Albus," the goblin responded. Someone might have thought that the accountant and the Headmaster hated each other but the reality of the matter was much different; they were both angry with the current situation of Magical Britain.
Harry decided to speak up, as he was utterly confused. "I'm sorry, but how exactly are you related to each other?"
"Ah, I'm glad you asked. Accountant Ragnok is also my vault manager and we have worked with each other a lot over the years since I became your guardian. He has become some sort of solicitor and advisor to me, if not my most trusted confidant," Dumbledore supplied. His eyes were most certainly not twinkling despite his jovial attitude.
"Mr. Potter. Though I am now aware of your... predicament, it does not change the fact that you have to use that quill for all your documents. I will also make sure that," suddenly, the door of the office opened on its own and Ragnok yelled on top of his lungs towards the rest of the bank, "NO MORE BLOOD QUILLS ARE DISTRIBUTED OUTSIDE OF GRINGOTTS." The moment he stopped speaking, the door closed once more and locked.
"Now. Mr. Potter, if you please," Ragnok spoke in a calm manner as he forwarded the parchment. Harry took the blood quill with shaking hands but signed the parchment anyway. Ragnok took it back, signed it himself and pressed the Gringotts seal on it.
Almost immediately, Harry felt a rush of warmth spreading from his heart and covering his body. He also saw himself faintly glowing gold before the warmth faded along with the glow.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You are officially an adult wizard. Your benefits, except claiming Lordship, are the removal of the Trace and the ability to apply for an Apparition Licence under the examination of a Ministry or Gringotts official," Ragnok announced in a formal fashion, but Harry could detect a hint of boredom in the rough voice of the goblin.
"Now, on to more pressing matters. You are here to claim Lordship, yes? You came for Heirship, but that course of action seems a little bit impossible," the goblin continued with a toothy grin. Harry noted that Ragnok's sarcasm is awfully similar to Dumbledore's. "First, you will need to verify your identity by way of blood. I know it is pretty much redundant at this point, but it remains standard procedure." With a snap of the accountant's fingers, an ebony piece of wood appeared in front of Harry. Seeing the obvious confusion in Harry's features, the goblin continued speaking. "You will need to use the blood quill to draw a line on the item in front of you."
The moment Harry's blood appeared on the wooden square a piece of paper appeared in the hands of Ragnok. With a snap of the goblin's fingers the box disappeared.
"Well... You are a Potter alright," the goblin muttered as he examined the piece of parchment. He put it inside a drawer and produced a set of four parchments, which he gave to Harry. "More than that, you are also a member of the Black Family and by the orders of your godfather and Lord Black, you could be his legal Heir. Emphasis on could because the situation at hand is tricky. Since he is a fugitive and a former prisoner of Azkaban, you can claim Lordship without contest. That only applies as long as he remains a fugitive and is not exonerated. If you do not wish to do so, you can simply become his Heir until you decide otherwise or until he dies."
"That..." Harry started but trailed off as he looked up in Dumbledore's eyes. It didn't take long to reach a decision. "I will become Heir. I do not wish to take the Lordship from the hands of my godfather."
"Very well," the accountant responded and two of the parchments disappeared. "Now. You need to sign the four black lines, two on each parchment." Harry swiftly complied and the goblin retrieved them. Similar to the emancipation paper, he simply signed once on each parchment, followed by the Gringotts seal on both.
This time, Harry felt nothing as the papers disappeared, replaced by two black velvet boxes. On the first box, etched in silver threads, Harry could recognize the same coat of arms he saw on the tapestry of 12 Grimmauld Place. He picked the box up and inside it he saw a simple platinum ring with a grey gem on it that Harry failed to identify. The letter 'B' was carved inside the gemstone.
"Wear it, Heir Black. It will recognize your magic and bind you as the Heir of House Black," the goblin said in a monotone voice.
Harry wore it on the index finger of his left hand and it magically adjusted to fit him perfectly. The grey gemstone glowed in a faint white light for a brief moment before dying down completely. As no one in the room wanted to comment on the recognition of his Heirship he set his eyes on the second box.
Etched on it in golden threads was an unfamiliar coat of arms. Taking the stage was a shield, split in four parts each depicting a different item; a warrior's cloak, a staff, a book and a gemstone. Underneath the shield was an intricately designed Phoenix that carried a banner with its talons. The coat of arms made it look as if the Phoenix was carrying the shield on its back. Harry turned his attention to the words etched on the banner.
'Ex cineribus exoriemur'
"'We rise from the ashes'. The Motto of the Potter Family," Dumbledore responded to Harry, who didn't realise that he read the words on the banner out loud. Harry practically ignored him as he opened the velvet box with shaking hands.
Harry's mind was a chaotic mess. Whilst he was aware he was claiming his legacy, the legacy of his parents, it was a different feeling touching said legacy. He was caught in a whirlwind of emotion, which was completely understandable.
Inside the velvet box was a beautiful obsidian ring with an emerald gemstone which the Boy-Who-Lived carefully picked up. He could see the figure of a phoenix inside the emerald. Around the band itself, Harry could read the Potter family motto engraved in silver letters.
"You should wear it, Lord Potter," the goblin spoke in the same monotone as before, saying the same words. "It will recognize your magic and bind you as the Head and Lord of House Potter."
Harry carefully wore the ring on the middle finger of his left hand. The size was magically adjusted to fit the finger perfectly and the phoenix inside the gemstone glowed with a pure silver light that gradually intensified. Eventually, the room was flooded in a blinding white light that hurt Harry's eyes even if they were closed.
The light died down as abruptly as it blinded everyone. Harry, not caring about anyone else at that moment, glanced down to his ring as soon as he opened his eyes. The phoenix was dimly glowing in the same silver light. It almost looked alive.
"It is a rare occasion to see a recognition that bright..." Ragnok muttered. "I wonder if..."
His words were cut off by a bright flame that materialised in the middle of the room. Harry jumped, shot up from his chair and moved towards the wall as a majestic phoenix materialised from the flame. It looked a lot like Fawkes with some minor differences; it was slightly bigger and its plumage was a much darker shade of red than the familiar of the Headmaster. The phoenix immediately flew towards Harry and perched on his shoulder before starting a soft song.
"Ah! I was right then! Nicodemus did come to Lord Potter!" Ragnok exclaimed with a certain dose of excitement. Dumbledore, for his part, looked proud and excited in equal measure.
"What do you mean, exactly?" Harry asked as he eyed the phoenix on his shoulder warily. Despite the surge of courage that came with its song, Harry couldn't get rid of his confusion at the events unfolding in front of him.
"Nicodemus is the Guardian familiar of the Potter Family for many a generation," said Dumbledore, his eyes still twinkling. "The last time I saw him was inside Potter Manor while I was having dinner with your grandfather Fleamont and your grandmother Euphemia. It was a magnificent night. Your grandmother was an incredible cook and even better at organising events."
"So..." Harry started as he gently stroked the head of Nicodemus, earning a trill from the majestic bird. "I have a phoenix familiar?"
"Not exactly. Nicodemus is, as Albus said, the Guardian familiar of the Potter family. While he usually protects the head of house, he is neither your pet nor your exclusive familiar. You cannot command him. It is entirely his choice whether he comes with you, lives with you or aids you in battle. He is bound and sworn to the Potter family; to the ring of Lord Potter specifically. The origins of this bond are unknown and we couldn't figure them out even if we used the combined might of all of the goblins of Gringotts," said Ragnok.
"It is very obviously hidden under a Fidelius Charm, which is also the reason why we cannot trace the Potter Family Tree to its roots. Supposedly, it is a well guarded secret, known only to the Lords of the Potter Family. We don't even know why it is a secret." At that moment, a second flash of fire materialised next to Dumbledore and Fawkes appeared through it. The two phoenixes immediately started flying around each other, singing to each other. Harry idly thought if this was the reason why Fawkes was so close to him.
"If he is the Guardian of the Potters as you say, where was he when my parents were hunted and killed?" The boy asked as he turned to look at the majestic phoenix perched on his shoulder. A tiny hint of bitterness tinged his voice.
"Phoenixes are magical creatures heavily tied to Destiny and Fate. No one knows why they act when they do and why they don't when they don't. Legends say that a phoenix never changes the course of destiny, only aids its predetermined course. Not to mention that Nicodemus has aided the matters involving House of Potter exclusively," was the elaborate answer Dumbledore gave. For a brief moment Harry wondered if Fawkes aided him in the Chamber because it was the will of Fate to do so.
The young Lord Potter tried to digest all the new information. It was a relatively fast progress, thanks to his rudimentary Occlumency. "So I can guess that Nicodemus was in Potter Manor this whole time?"
"Perhaps. No one could access it until now. Being recognised by the ring now grants you access to all Potter Estates. Namely Potter Manor, Stinchcombe Hall, Phoenix's Rise and the now ruined estate in Godric's Hollow-" Harry winced at the mention of Godric's Hollow, "- and you can modify the wards on each property you own. You also have full and unrestricted access to the Potter Family vaults on the deepest level of Gringotts. Your money is in there, along with some artefacts and the Potter Tome." The moment the goblin finished he snapped his fingers and a small parchment appeared in front of Harry once more. "Inside you will find a detailed report of your fortune."
Harry picked up the parchment and opened it. He scanned the items on the list briefly, his eyes taking note of two specific items on it. The parchment nearly left his trembling hands when he saw the number on the bottom.
"I suppose you are satisfied with the money that you own?" Dumbledore asked, obviously amused.
"You are the third richest wizard in Britain. Just two years early," the accountant added, equally amused. "Alas, that will conclude our business today. Unless you need anything else?"
Harry gulped and tore his eyes away from the parchment. "I want to visit the vault, if that is possible."
"Already on to getting money, Harry?" Dumbledore quipped with a side glance towards his student.
"Not really. I will grab some Galleons, but I wanted the Tome," Harry responded as he stood up. At the same time, both phoenixes vanished in twin orbs of fire.
"Of course, we can set it up for you," Ragnok said as he also stood up and walked towards the door which opened with a wave of his hand. "You want to visit now?"
"Yes please." Harry said as the trio moved towards the head teller.
Harry witnessed a short yet unsettling discussion in Gobbledegook before Ragnok came back to address them.
"You are to move towards the railing immediately. You will find yourself treated exceptionally well in Gringotts from now on, Lord Potter," the goblin said with a toothy smile.
"My thanks, Ragnok. I give them despite not being able to thank you enough. May your gold flow in rivers," Harry said with a respectful bow which won the attention of nearly every goblin that could see him.
The grin on Accountant Ragnok widened as much as possible and he extended an arm for a handshake, which Harry promptly accepted. "May your enemies fall before your might, Lord Potter."
The handshake broke off and with short nods each went on his own path. Dumbledore informed Harry that being emancipated also meant that he didn't have a guardian anymore and he didn't need to be escorted before walking out of the bank. Ragnok went back to his office and Harry took the ride down to his vault. He found it fairly amusing, especially the Thief's Downfall. It reminded Harry of Muggle Amusement parks that he saw advertised on TV. He never had the privilege to visit one with his foster family.
The ride ended in front of a massive circular area. A heavily scarred white dragon was sleeping in the middle with several goblins moving around it, playing music with magical instruments. As he was following the goblin teller, Harry took a moment to observe the other five vaults housed in the same location as his own. All five names were familiar to him; Black, Malfoy, Lestrange, Bones and most importantly to him, the Greengrass vault right next to his own on the right side. He reached his vault entrance and touched his open palm on the steel door, as the head teller instructed him.
The young wizard was not ready for the spectacle unfolding before his eyes. Piles upon piles upon piles of gold were spread across the vast space of his vault. It seemed like an endless ocean of golden textures and shiny coins. A cleared path was guiding the one entering the vault towards the centre of the vault which was surrounded by bookcases and several displays. Along the sides of the path were armour stands, all dressed with armours as old as the mediaeval era, each having different materials. Some were made using dragonhide, some used manticore hair, and others were made using chimaera skin.
The most important piece of clothing, however, was deeper inside the vault. Harry was particularly interested in it, especially since he killed one of the beasts that produced it. It was a cloak made from basilisk hide. He resolved to retrieve it, but not today.
His goal today was magically floating on an obsidian podium in the middle of the makeshift room made of bookcases. Before he reached it, however, he looked at the items exhibited around it.
As he expected, the Basilisk battle cloak was housed in a display case that had multiple stasis charms, making it look like it was frozen in time as it floated inside the glass box.
Next to it was a massive display of different wands; all of them belonging to members of the Potter family. His eyes moved to the latest additions on the display.
'James Henry Potter: 1960 - 1981'
'Lily Joanne Potter née Evans: 1960 - 1981'
Right next to them was his own name, yet the wand holder was empty. He supposed that his wand would be placed here upon his death. His one last forlorn look at his parents' wands, he turned towards the bookcases.
An assortment of many different and mostly ancient books was on display. Most were old books on Potions and Charms and more prominently Transfiguration, but Harry also spotted some books that covered more obscure and sometimes dark subjects. Most notably, 'A Simple Guide To Healing Rituals' and 'The Naked Truth of The Darkest Arts' earned his attention. Not giving much thought Harry retrieved the book on healing rituals and tore his eyes away from the bookcase to look at the main exhibit of the Potter Vault.
Harry walked towards the floating book on the podium. It was dressed in a black cover made from some kind of skin - Harry assumed snake skin - and had the Potter coat of arms in golden colour. Above the symbol the words 'Potter Tome' were etched in bold letters. Harry moved his hand to grab it and he felt like he moved his hand through spider web as his fingers neared the book. The Lord ring glowed and he suddenly gained the knowledge that his family grimoire was warded with a very strong ward designed by Linfred of Stinchcombe in the 12th century. If someone outside of the Potter family tried to touch it, he would find his hand disintegrated.
Harry shuddered the moment he analysed the foreign knowledge that was dumped in his head but grabbed the Tome nonetheless. It felt warm on his hands and a wide grin spread on his face. He couldn't wait to read it. With one last look and a handful of Galleons pocketed, Harry swiftly exited his vault.
The moment he opened the vault gate and stepped outside, a wizard stopped his discussion with his goblin teller and turned to look at him curiously.
The man was dark haired with some grey locks sprouting from his temples. He had pointed features on his face and piercing sapphire-blue eyes. He was relatively tall, about half a foot above Harry, and had broader shoulders. He was dressed in impeccable and obviously expensive black robes that reached his ankles and had green lines along the edges. It looked a lot like a Slytherin robe, yet twice as stylish, and regal looking, while the Slytherin emblem was replaced with an unfamiliar coat of arms.
The man's piercing gaze locked with Harry's emerald eyes; Harry felt that the soul-piercing gaze of the man's sapphire eyes was extremely familiar and associated with certain happy memories. The man then broke eye contact to move his eyes towards the forehead of the Boy-Who-Lived and then moved them to Harry's left arm. The moment the man saw the Lord ring of the Potters on Harry's finger his eyes widened and promptly returned to the emerald eyes.
"Greetings, Lord Potter," the man said in a pleasant tone that could not be mistaken despite his rough voice. "I assume your ascension to the Headship of House Potter and your claim to the Potter seat in the Wizengamot is fairly recent since we haven't met each other yet. My name is Cyrus Greengrass, Lord of House Greengrass."
Harry did not need the man to introduce himself, not really. Harry could easily recognize those sapphire eyes; they were the same as his daughter's.
"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Greengrass. Despite being known, I like to formally introduce myself. I am Henry James Potter, Lord of House Potter," he said as he stretched his arm for a formal handshake, which Cyrus quickly accepted. "As a matter of fact, I just became Lord Potter. Let me see," Harry pulled out his wand and cast a silent Tempus, "it was just fifteen minutes ago."
"Are you not the same age as my eldest daughter, Daphne?" Cyrus questioned as he observed Harry's underaged magic. "Am I to assume you have been emancipated?"
"Ah yes, we are both attending our fifth year in Hogwarts," Harry confirmed absentmindedly. He figured that Daphne did not speak to her parents about their situation so he decided not to mention it. "Yes, I was emancipated. I know that it is normally not possible, but the whole ordeal with the Goblet of Fire and the Tournament opened a very awkward hole in the laws regarding emancipation."
"I see," Cyrus commented. "Well, I won't keep you for long, Lord Potter. I hope you enjoy your Christmas holidays. You should know, however, that not everyone buys the Prophet's lies. There are people that believe you and Albus Dumbledore."
"I appreciate it, Lord Greengrass. I would also appreciate it if you simply called me Harry," the boy said in a polite manner and extended his hand once again.
"Then I must ask that you call me Cyrus," the man said as he shared one last handshake with the Boy-Who-Lived before they went their separate ways.
As Harry boarded the cart that would return him to the main hub of Gringotts, he idly thought about Daphne.
"I should really write to her," he mused to no one in particular.
x
Harry couldn't bring himself to care about the prying eyes as he practised random utility spells as he exited Gringotts. From the Warming Charm to a constant repetition of the Banishing and Summoning Charms on a piece of paper, he was enjoying the freedom his emancipation gave him. The hateful glares and constant murmurs around him did nothing to dampen his good mood as he walked towards Twilfitt and Tatting's to buy new robes. He did notice, however, that many of the murmurs and glares turned to shocked silences and wide eyes as they noticed the two rings on his left hand.
"Must be a Notice-Me Charm on the rings," Harry thought as he turned his amused gaze towards the shocked visitors of Diagon Alley.
Soon enough he entered the shop he intended. The door opened with a loud chime from a custom alarm ward placed on the entrance to notify the owner of customers. He didn't manage ten steps inside the luxurious shop before a short, round man with an extravagant grey moustache and a balding head appeared in front of him.
"Welcome to... Ah. Hello, Mr. Potter." The man's jovial and welcoming attitude completely drained from him as he saw the Boy-Who-Lied in front of him, with his face turning into a slight grimace of disgust.
Thanks to Daphne, however, Harry knew how to manipulate his status to a favourable position in the most cunning and elegant of ways. An ability that Harry found oddly natural the more he utilised it. A small, sinister smile appeared on Harry's lips.
"I did not expect the owner of such a popular and highly regarded establishment to have such deplorable manners. To think that I would be dissuaded from buying my robes from this shop the moment I stepped inside of it," said Harry in an almost bored fashion as he lifted his left hand to rub his chin before attempting to turn towards the exit. "I believe I will be treated much better at Madam Malkin's establishment."
The subtle gesture with his hand forced Mr. Tatting to witness the brilliance of the dimly glowing phoenix within the emerald gem of the Potter Lord's ring. The man shuddered under the influence and paled to the point of looking like a sheet of paper. Realisation dawned on him; he was speaking to Lord Potter first and foremost, the Head of a Noble and Most Ancient House of the Wizengamot. The Boy-Who-Lived and the Boy-Who-Lied; both monickers were worthless in front of his current status.
"L- L- Lord Potter..! F- forgive me for my manners, I d- do not know what I was th- thinking," the man stuttered as he rushed in front of Harry to stop him from exiting his store. "I had no idea! Your family has been customers in our prestigious establishment for many, many years. I cannot allow a simple, honest mistake to ruin such a fruitful relationship between us," the man pleaded with clear fear in his eyes. "My name is Michael Tatting, at your service."
"Is that so?" Harry inquired in an amused tone, ignoring the man's introduction. Having the status he currently had gave him the freedom to openly disrespect people of lower status. It wasn't something he intended to do, but he found it surprisingly easy if he was disrespected first. He turned around once more and walked deeper into the store.
"I suppose it cannot be helped then. I shall forgive your honest mistake against my image. We can't break such a great relationship because I became Lord Potter forty minutes ago, can we?"
"Y- Yes! Of course, Lord Potter," the man said as he rushed to show Harry some robes on display. He couldn't do more, however, as Harry interrupted.
"Actually, I am looking for custom made robes, Mr. Tatting. I was under the impression that you make the best handmade custom robes in Magical Britain," said Harry coolly as the man immediately rushed to grab a magic measuring tape and a selection of materials used for the robes.
"But of course! Anything in mind, Lord Potter?" the man asked as he immediately started measuring the necessary sizes on Harry's body with the utmost precision.
"Acromantula silk is the only viable option, is it not?" Harry said without paying much attention to the frantic nods of the man. Calculating his options and seeing the man's submissive nature, Harry spoke once more. "In honour of our fruitful, year long relationship and to rectify your disappointing mistake, I expect a very good price when we are done, Mr. Tatting. I am sure you will not shy away from a generous discount to convince me to keep the relationship going," said Harry in a tone full of confidence and authority.
The round man flinched momentarily but agreed all the same. "I have your measurements and I believe I can make a robe that will suit you perfectly, Robe… Lord. I mean L-Lord Potter. Any particular colours you'd wish to avoid?"
Harry's right eyebrow shot up significantly as the man stuttered pathetically. He wasn't offended, not at all. He was merely amused with the man before him. He was not used to people attempting to treat him with respect in the first place.
"Anything that isn't too pompous and bright will suffice. I trust your critical eye and judgement on style, Mr. Tatting," Harry said with a polite smile on his face. "A pair of suit pants and a coat to live through the atrocious winter of our fair country will also be nice additions to my purchase list. Although I would suggest you adopt upscale Muggle styles and suits fit to business men and aristocrats."
"M- Muggle clothing?" Mr. Tatting stuttered in disbelief as he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Allow me to demonstrate," Harry said as he slowly and roughly transfigured his clothes to a black Muggle suit with a tie, a white shirt underneath and black suit pants. "Despite your... bias, against Muggles, you cannot deny that they have style." The transfigured clothes immediately returned to their original state of a normal, yet old robe he borrowed from Sirius. He still needed to practice Transfiguration.
The expression on the man's face was almost comical. While he obviously did not like Muggles, he found it impossible to deny the style of Muggle clothing. Biting his lip, he looked at Harry's emerald eyes. "I agree, Lord Potter. I will adopt pieces of Muggle clothing in my shop. I could also develop them further to elevate the style to fit wizards across the country. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to produce the finest robes to fit the Head of House Potter."
"I couldn't ask for more, Mr. Tatting," Harry responded with a sly grin as the man disappeared behind the door leading to his workshop.
Figuring he had nothing better to do as he waited for his robes to be made, Harry took a seat behind a row of robes and idly read that day's edition of the Daily Prophet.
The ward chimed and a different man - probably Mr. Twilfitt, Harry thought - rushed towards the entrance.
"Madam Malfoy, it is a pleasure to serve you once more," the man said somewhere near the entrance, outside of Harry's sight. The boy's head perked up as he heard the voice of the woman.
"I have told you to call me Narcissa, Mr. Twilfitt."
"Then you must of course call me Julius."
"See, isn't that easier?"
"Very much so, Narcissa. Although I doubt you would be saying that if Lord Malfoy was with you."
"Please don't remind me of that swine again. I am already having a hard time enjoying my free time away from him as is."
"He is still the same?"
"Merlin, yes! Especially since last June. The worst part is that I'm forced to once again join his foolish endeavours to serve the Dark Lord. Lucius was never a wise man, as I have told you time and time again. He was always a swine that I was forced to marry according to my father's wishes. His allegiance to the Dark Lord has only made him worse. Desperate. Violent."
"I can imagine, Narcissa. I can't understand why you don't break the marriage."
"I can't do that to my poor Draco. I can only hope that Lucius will either grow a brain with some logic in it, or that he dies for the Dark Lord."
Harry was listening to everything the woman said. The image that he had of the Malfoy family was broken and something said earlier that day by Sirius came to the forefront of his mind.
"Narcissa is probably the most gentle and kind hearted Black you can meet."
In a moment of impulse, Harry stood up and made his way towards Narcissa from the shadows, his left hand inside of his pocket.
"I can only stay silent and follow his commands thoughtlessly, like some kind of-"
"My my, Narcissa, I did not expect words like that coming from the wife of Lucius Malfoy," Harry said as he appeared behind her, causing her to whirl around to face him.
"Potter? What do you want? How long have you been standing there?" Narcissa asked him with a hint of steel. It would have had a much more significant impact if her fear hadn't slipped into her voice.
"Oh, I've been here since before you even entered the store," Harry responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. "May I suggest that you use some Privacy Charms when you start a discussion of such a nature. I actually expected you to do so, Cissy."
A fire of indignation and anger flared in Narcissa's eyes. "How dare you address me that way, Potter. I am the wife of the Lord Malfoy, you ought to learn some-'' A chuckle from Harry interrupted her tirade, provoking her rage further. "You dare laugh in-"
"Stop, Narcissa," Harry suddenly commanded as he turned his head towards Julius Twilfitt. "I would appreciate it if you joined Mr. Tatting momentarily. I have something to discuss with Mrs. Malfoy." The man hesitated momentarily but left with Narcissa's nod.
"Now," said Harry as he set up some Privacy Charms around them. He was acting on pure impulse and a spur of imagination at that point, his critical thinking allowing him to find a way to gain an unlikely ally.
Yet another value that could be traced back to Daphne Greengrass. In fact, he was basically copying nearly word to word examples of interaction
"First of all, let me formally introduce myself as this is the first time that we have met," said Harry under the scrutinising glare of Narcissa Malfoy. "My name is Harry James Potter, Lord of House Potter and Heir of House Black," he continued as he removed his left hand from his pocket. As expected, Narcissa's eyes immediately fell upon the two rings and an expression of shock came over her face.
"I will be fully honest, Narcissa. I have heard some things about you, positive things," Harry started. The things he had heard from Sirius and Nymphadora were lacklustre but the things that he had heard from her mere moments ago made him move.
He planned to make his first ally.
"How did you become Heir Black and more importantly, who spoke of me in such a positive light, Lord Potter?" Narcissa responded in a defeated, but yet oddly defiant fashion.
"Please, I implore you to call me Harry first and foremost. As for your questions, I'm afraid I cannot say," he responded. He immediately noticed the disappointed expression that momentarily passed the beautiful face of the matriarch of the Malfoy family. He made his move immediately. "Am I to assume that you don't hear positive things about your person anymore, Lady Malfoy?"
"How did you-"
"You need not answer or question my observation. I can answer your previous question, but only under an Oath of Secrecy."
"How-"
"No hows, Narcissa," Harry interrupted once more. "The only thing I wish to know is if you are willing to take an Oath of Secrecy. If you are not, I will bid you farewell and keep minding my own business. If you are, then we can discuss everything of importance over a cup of tea in the Leaky?"
Narcissa gulped as he interrupted her with an incredible amount of authority. Harry Potter was quite unlike the boy her son described; the man in front of her was confident, cunning and very obviously powerful. The bright emerald eyes that gave the illusion of a vortex, the latent magic of his aura, the grace and charisma with which he held himself reminded her of only two men; Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort. Despite not being nearly as strong as either of them, his conduct was well on par. Yet, she could feel neither the malice of the Dark Lord nor the unconditional kindness of the Headmaster as he spoke. Harry Potter was his own entity - he had his own, unique identity. Still… Quite sudden, but it worked.
"It would need to be in a private room in order to preserve anonymity," Narcissa finally responded as she bit her lower lip. Harry gave her a warm yet small smile. His plan was working perfectly.
He really needed to gift something to Daphne. He couldn't pull off something like that by being a powerful wizard. He needed to be a powerful politician; this event was the first time he felt that kind of power and it made him appreciate it even more.
"That is a yes, I believe?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow and Narcissa sighed.
"Yes. What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing much. A simple Oath of Secrecy by way of magic. An Oath that you will not disclose our encounter and anything that you have heard from me unless I give you permission to do so. You will also take the oath as a member of House Black," Harry said as he absentmindedly rubbed the ring of Heir Black adorning his left index finger.
Narcissa pulled out her wand and pointed to the ceiling. Harry smiled.
"I, Narcissa Artemis Black, member of House Black, do swear upon my life and magic to not share anything that Lord Henry James Potter has told or will tell me today and to keep my encounter and subsequent meeting with Lord Potter a secret, lest he gives me permission to do otherwise. So mote it be." The tip of Narcissa's wand briefly glowed in a golden light that bathed body before dying down. Harry's smile turned into a lop-sided grin.
"Well then. May I ask what brought you to this decision?" Harry inquired in an amused tone.
'Is he toying with me?' Narcissa thought in indignation as she responded. "Mere curiosity."
"Oh I highly doubt that. I already heard of your opinion on Voldemort - oh please stop reacting like that to his mere name, it isn't even his real one." Narcissa looked at him with uncontained curiosity but was ultimately ignored. Her reaction wasn't the usual shudder or outright shriek Harry was used to; it was merely a subtle twitch on her face; something he noticed thanks to his otherworldly reflexes. "As I was saying, you don't have the best of feelings about the Dark Lord. As you were expressing them to the one I assume is your greatest confidant in times of need, the number one enemy of said Dark Lord approaches you expressing a positive opinion about you while you haven't heard anything positive these years past because you are the wife of Lucius Malfoy. To make matters more interesting, said number one enemy has had his opinion of you shaped by others. So let me ask you again, Narcissa. Is it 'mere curiosity', or do you hope for a way to escape your current situation through me?"
Narcissa looked at him in astonished silence. As she tried to speak, however, Mr. Tatting approached Harry.
"Ah, Lord Potter! I'd hate to intrude on your conversation with Lady Malfoy, but your robes are ready," the man said proudly as he presented the pieces of clothing Harry requested.
The boy took them and carefully examined the custom robes that he had asked for. They were dyed in a dark green colour that perfectly matched his eyes, lined with a trim the colour of silver. The Potter coat of arms were carefully embroidered upon the fabric, right above his left breast. All in all, it was a great robe and Harry appreciated it. The coat, on the other hand, was a plain black coat made from the finest acromantula silk, with the Potter coat of arms once again visible upon the left in silver colours.
"I am pleased by your wonderful work, Mr. Tatting. How much for all of this?" Harry asked with a polite smile.
"All of that will be sev-" A hint of cold passed through Harry's eyes as he was looking at the man, making the man falter visibly. "Fif- Forty Galleons." The man finally said with a smile.
Harry got a pleased smile on his face as he handed the money to the short man and turned to Narcissa. "Book a suite in the Leaky Cauldron and when you enter, leave your door open for longer than necessary so that I may enter the room," he whispered to her ear as he moved towards the door.
"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Tatting. I will make sure to visit you again," he said with a smile.
"The pleasure was ours, Lord Potter. We wish you the best in your endeavours."
Harry did not bother listening to the shop owner as he exited the store and paced towards Richard Blink's Lapidary. His visit to that shop was a quick one; exiting five minutes after he entered with a black velvet box in his hands.
"Dobby," Harry said in a soft tone and a short elf appeared next to him.
"Did the great master Harry Potter call Dobby?" the elf asked with his massive eyes looking at the boy expectantly.
"I did. I called you for two reasons. First, are you willing to be bound to the Potter family?" Harry asked. It had been on his list of priorities since he had the discussion on elves with Daphne and the rest of their odd gang. He didn't want Dobby to suffer a limited supply of magic with the danger of dying or going insane.
"The great Harry Potter be's serious? Of course Dobby be's wanting to be Harry Potter's elf!" The elf responded excitedly and grabbed Harry's arm with surprising strength.
"I, Dobby Elf, do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Lord Henry James Potter, his heirs and successors, according to magic. So mote it be."
The moment Dobby finished, a golden light engulfed them both for a mere second and Harry felt a pull on his magic as Dobby relished the feeling of his magic. It felt a bit… uncomfortable to Harry, but he didn't regret anything. Instead, he was happy.
"Now Dobby, I have three things for you. First, I know you can speak proper English and I want you to speak like that. Second, I want you to take care of yourself properly. Eat proper food, wear proper clothes of your choice and never hit yourself again."
"Yes, great master Harry Potter," Dobby said with a short bow.
"Actually, stop calling me that as well. Simply call me Harry. You are not a servant, Dobby, you are a part of my family. I want you to act like that and treat yourself as one."
"Yes, Harry," the elf responded with a smile. Harry also noticed that the elf had stopped its erratic and crazed behaviour. He shrugged it off and continued.
"Now, I want you to take these," Harry said and gave Dobby his bags, "and take them somewhere you trust they will be safe; preferably in Hogwarts. I will call you when I need them."
"As you command, Harry. It also helps Dobby to meet Winky during his errands," Dobby responded with a wink and apparated silently before the man could say anything. Harry sighed as he entered an alley between two buildings and quickly wore his Invisibility Cloak before following Narcissa towards Leaky Cauldron.
Much to his displeasure, Tom, the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron was holding up Narcissa in pointless small talk. Harry sighed and poked her shoulder, causing her to stiffen and look around.
"Is everything alright, Lady Malfoy?"
"Y- Yes. I would like my keys now, thank you," Narcissa responded and quickly grabbed her keys and went up the stairs to the top floor.
As Harry instructed, the Malfoy matriarch left the door open for longer than necessary for him to enter without looking suspicious. The door was closed and locked behind him and he took off his cloak.
"I am sorry that I needed to startle you at the bar. The quick chat was getting not so quick," Harry said as he took one of the two chairs around the wooden table. Narcissa swiftly followed and took the remaining chair. With quick flicks of her wand she set up multiple Privacy Wards on the four walls and the door of the private room.
"First of all, let me start with telling you that I hold no ill intent against you," Harry said and got a cold glare in response.
"But you harbour ill will against my son, Lord Potter," Narcissa spat in return.
"I have already asked you to call me Harry, Lady Malfoy. As for Draco, I will have to correct you. He is the most obnoxious, entitled, arrogant and disrespectful piece of shit to have ever walked the grounds of Hogwarts, that much is true. However, I never wanted anything bad to happen to him and do not actively try to hurt him," Harry responded in a calm manner. "I am now certain that he didn't become like this under your influence, right Narcissa? This is Lord Malfoy's doing."
"I... Yes," the woman admitted. "I have triedso much with Draco. I have tried to make him look at the world in a positive light, I have tried to make him respectful towards everyone, I have tried to not make him a pureblood bigot like my parents taught me. Of course, my efforts were for naught in front of his 'oh so perfect and powerful father'." Narcissa sighed and a single tear left her eye. "Did you know that Draco was looking forward to meeting you and becoming your friend in his first year? Despite his father's protests, he wanted to meet and befriend the saviour of the wizarding world, the one who had ended the Dark Lord's tyranny. He came back heart-broken that same Christmas."
Harry was silent. The revelations about Draco of all people wanting to be his friend came as a shock, but he stayed silent. He let Narcissa vent.
"I never learnt what happened between you. The only thing he ever told me is that on the train he discovered that you were the worst. Can you tell me your side?" Narcissa pleaded and Harry didn't find it in himself to refuse.
"Draco Malfoy came to my compartment with his two gorillas, Crabbe and Goyle."
Narcissa snorted. "Of course, the two braindead monkeys that are around him due to the obligations their parents have towards Lucius. Go on."
"Well, he introduced himself in a very awkward manner and immediately showed disgust against Hermione Granger and against Ron Weasley. Muggle-born and blood traitor," said Harry with a fake smile. "I immediately disliked him. He was the reason I didn't want to go to Slytherin; that and the fact that Hagrid told me that 'snakes are evil'. The fact that I didn't prefer his noble and pureblood company and status as well as being a Gryffindor made him hostile against us. The rest is simply history, every year getting worse."
"So the reason he failed to become your friend was..."
"Lucius Malfoy. Yes."
The woman sighed. "I should have known. Lucius taught my boy bigotry and hatred," Narcissa spat in rage. "No matter. The past shall remain the past. You said he was the reason you didn't become a Slytherin?"
"Yes. The Hat tried to persuade me to join your House, but I refused. Quite adamantly, but let's move on to the pressing matters."
"Yes, let's," the woman responded and her mood lightened slightly. With a flick of her wand a bottle of elven champagne and two glasses appeared. "Want to share a drink?"
"Please."
The Malfoy matriarch poured both of them a glass and each drank a bit.
"Are you not afraid that I did something to your drink?"
"Not really. I have answers you seek and you have no reason to attack me like that. Besides, I doubt the woman who hates her own marriage and their allegiance to Voldemort would attack me."
"Quite observant of you, Harry."
"Merely common sense. I also trust Sirius when he tells me that you are 'the kindest Black that I can meet'."
Narcissa nearly spat her drink. "Sirius? Sirius Black? How are you-"
"He is my godfather. He was the one who made me his Heir when I was born."
"Aunt Walburga let that happen?"
"Walburga had no say in it. Sirius talked with Arcturus Black when I was born."
"Makes sense… Sirius did hate his parents with a mighty passion. Which I understand, Walburga and Orion were not good parents; they were not good people in general. I'm glad things turned out that way, however," said Narcissa as she visibly relaxed. "How is he? You speak to him?"
"Yes. Daily, in fact. He was not the murderer of those muggles, nor the man who betrayed my parents. Though I think you already know that."
"Oh I know. Sirius would never do that and my husband is in the inner circle of the Death Eaters. We know of Pettigrew."
"Are you a Death Eater, Narcissa?" Harry asked and pointently looked at her forearm.
The woman slowly lifted her sleeve with a cold glare. "I would never mark myself with that. I would rather die."
"I am glad to see such motivation. It seems that Sirius and Nymphadora were right," Harry responded with a smile.
"Oh, my sweet niece. Is she alright? I know that she is an auror and all but... It is a dangerous job."
"You could meet them, eventually."
Narcissa carefully examined the boy in front of her and straightened her back. "Now I believe that we are approaching the reason you wanted a meeting like this."
"Quite observant of you, Narcissa," the boy responded with a toothy grin. "In fact, I wouldn't want to see family bound against their will like that."
"Family?"
"We have never met but you are family, whether I'd like to admit it or not. Being Sirius' Heir, I am immediately connected to his family as well, even though I already was, albeit distantly." Harry leaned forward and bore his emerald eyes into Narcissa's sky blue ones. "You would be a powerful ally, Narcissa."
"I... I can't. I want to escape Lucius' clutches, but I can't. I can't leave my poor child behind," Narcissa responded with her head lowered. "I didn't like Lucius even before I heard about the betrothal contract. But it was my father's wish. Cygnus was a great man. A just man, a role model. Quite the opposite to Druella," she spat before quickly regaining her wits. "So, I married him. I gave him an Heir, and I love that boy with all my heart. I cannot leave him behind..."
"Would Draco follow you?"
"Pardon?"
"If you left your husband." Harry said in a calm manner. "Would Draco follow you?"
"I- I don't know..."
"I doubt he would. I believe that he will follow in his father's footsteps."
"Draco is a good boy," she whispered. "I know he can be better than that. He is such a gentle soul... He can't hurt anyone willingly."
"But he will be forced to. Isn't that right?"
Silence.
"Please, speak to me."
"Yes. Lucius, in all his usual hubris, will try anything to gain the favour of the Dark Lord. Even... Even serve up his own son to him."
"You can't stop that," Harry responded. "You can either leave them or chase after your son."
Narcissa thought for a moment. A long moment. She grabbed her glass and downed the rest of her drink. "I can't Harry, I'm sorry. I want to leave, I really do, I don't want to fight for the Dark Lord. But Draco will lose his way without me. Please understand that," Narcissa pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Don't worry, Narcissa. I understand it and also respect it. My opinion of you could not be higher," the boy responded with a genuine kind smile as he stood up. "I am afraid that concludes our meeting, however. Dobby!"
Narcissa's eyes widened as a familiar elf, dressed in a black suit - looking awfully like a butler - appeared next to Harry. "Dobby?"
"Did you call, Harry... Ah! Miss Narcissa, it is a pleasure to see you again. I am sorry for not contacting you but the monstrosity that you call a husband made me shy away from that course of action."
Narcissa's eyes almost popped out of their sockets, but she quickly gathered herself and shook her head. "I am happy that you have found a good master, Dobby. I am sorry for all you went through at the hands of Lucius."
"It is all water under the bridge, Miss Narcissa. You treated me well enough to balance his mistreatment. Now, Harry?"
"Yes Dobby, I wanted you to apparate me home," Harry said as he turned his eyes to Narcissa. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Narcissa Black. I do hope we meet again."
A moment later a pop was heard and Harry Potter with his elf disappeared.
Narcissa spent minutes staring at the blank space, analysing everything that had happened. Oh how badly she wanted to escape her marriage. How badly she wanted to escape the Dark Lord. She had her chance right there. In her hands, yet she let it go. For her son. She didn't regret her decision to help her son. She regretted that she couldn't fight against the Dark Lord.
"Indirectly, perhaps?" A soft voice inside her head chimed.
With that thought, Narcissa Malfoy née Black took a deep breath and disapparated with a head full of conflicting thoughts.