Gringotts and Gryffindors
Monday, 10 August 1998
“So,” Harry called out, clapping his hands once, “who’s ready for Diagon?”
“Harry, love,” Ron chided, “you can’t just drop all that on people and then move on like it’s nothing.”
Harry cocked his head, in a great impression of his godfather’s animangus form, “what d’you mean?”
“We’ve been working on his tact,” Hermione said to the room in an over-exaggerated stage whisper, “it’s not going well.”
“Oi! I resent that,” Harry shot back, “I was just thinking that it was a lot, that people might want time to process what we said before they asked questions,”
“Oh,” Hermione said, doing a poor job of disguising her shock, “that’s actually a good idea, Harry.”
“Don’t act so surprised, I can be intelligent sometimes.”
“Yes, I’m aware, I’m more shocked by the emotional intelligence,” Hermione responded, worrying she might have offended her friend until she saw the look on his face.
“Why thank you, ‘Mione, dearest, I’m ever so thankful for your support.” Harry shot back, sporting a distinctly Potter grin.
“I’m sick of your shit, Harry James Potter.” Hermione said matter of factly.
“Alright,” Neville cut in, “before this descends into chaos, does anyone have questions right now or should we wait until later when you’ve all had time to think?”
The room is quiet until Narcissa asks, in a soft voice that no one but Draco had ever heard, “Hadrian, do you happen to have the note you mentioned Regulus left?”
With a soft smile and a look of true grief that was rather difficult to comprehend, Harry nodded before calling for Kreacher, “Kreacher, would you allow Narcissa to look at the note that Regulus left with the locket? And maybe later you can show her and Andromeda some of the other notes and photos you keep in his room if they’d like?”
“Of course, Master Harry, Kreacher would be honored to show Mistress Cissa and Mistress Andi Master Reggie’s things. Kreacher would like that very much.”
“Thank you Kreacher,” Harry responded before looking at the Black sisters, “Kreacher keeps some things in his nest but most of Regulus’ belongings are still in his room, you’re both welcome to look through both his and Sirius’ rooms any time. We’ll be out of the house most of the day so you’ll have time and space.”
Both slightly overwhelmed by emotions, Narcissa simply nodded with a soft smile and Andi said, “thanks, love.”
“Well,” Ron started, “let’s get ready to head out. I’m sure Harry and Neville will be happy to answer questions later but I believe they have an appointment at Gringotts and the last thing Harry needs is to piss off the Goblin nation … again.”
“Oi!” Harry yelped, “I only pissed them off once and now that they have some of the oldest vaults in the place circulating again I think I’d have to break back into the bank with the dragon I stole to get so much as a huff of annoyance out of Ragnok.”
“Just how rich are you, Potter?”
“Now, Parkinson,” Harry said back with a Slytherin-worthy smirk, “that’s not a very proper thing to ask.”
Neville, however, had no problem responding, “I think if Harry and I started our own country we’d fall only slightly behind Britain economically.”
“And we’d have a much less corrupt Ministry,” Harry concluded with a grin.
“Sure,” Draco said with a snort, “cause you two are known for your level-headedness and clear sense of right and wrong.”
“Watch your mouth, Malfoy, you’re talking to the Chosen One and his snake-slaying brother. We’d be benevolent leaders, and our people would be happy to follow.”
“If Potter’s in charge, I’m defecting.” Blaise deadpanned.
“I’d be happy to follow Potter,” Theo said under his breath. Apparently not quietly enough if Harry’s responding grin was any indication.
“I’m sure you would, Theodore,” Daphne said with a smirk, “if only to take in the view from behind.”
“Watch your back, Greengrass, I know where you sleep.”
“Don’t, Daphne, you’re harming their poor little Gryffindor sensibilities.”
“Don’t you worry, Parkinson, we spent six years living with Lord Slytherin over here, it’d take a lot more than a silly little death threat to scare us off.” Seamus responded.
“Yeah, especially when we’ve stayed friends with Harry through several credible threats on his life.” Dean said, before thinking for a moment and adding, “also, hate to hurt your little snakey feelings, but Harry is a much more viable threat. You lot are like a particularly grumpy Pomeranian in comparison to Mr. Temper over here.”
“In fact,” Seamus began, “I’m pretty sure if Voldemort ever saw Harry ranting after a potions lesson he’d have backed off and found an easier target.”
“If you’re all quite done, we should head to Diagon.”
“Oh shut it, Harold, you know we’re right.”
“Just because you’re right doesn’t mean I want to hear your voice, Finnigan.”
* * *
After making sure Teddy was settled and that Kreacher was okay with sorting through some of Regulus’ things with Andromeda and Narcissa, Harry led his friends through his floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Once there, the group began to discuss their errands. They hadn’t gotten their book lists yet but knew that they’d all need new robes between growth spurts and the general destruction of robes that happens while going through the totally normal experience of one’s school being run by ruthless Death Eaters who happily torture children. A few of them also wanted to get new trunks and Pansy, Daphne, Padma, and Parvati had decided it was time for Harry to use his not-insignificant fortune on purchasing clothes that, you know, actually fit. Harry also wanted to look into some things he’d need for Teddy at Hogwarts and Hermione, of course, needed to stop into Flourish and Blotts.
As such, the group decided to start at Madam Malkins to get fitted for their school robes and for the girls to pick out some basics for Harry’s wardrobe before Harry and Neville had to go to Gringotts for their meeting. The girls had pestered Harry until he made a literal vow that he’d meet them at Twilfit and Tattings after his meeting for them to pick out the more traditional wizarding aspects of his wardrobe.
* * *
For now, Harry was dressed in robes he’d had Kreacher select at Grimmauld Place. Loving Harry (almost) as much as he’d loved Regulus, Kreacher had dug through Regulus’ wardrobe until he found the perfect ensemble. With the pitch-black slacks and the perfectly tailored white silk shirt, Harry already looked more put together than he ever had, but that wasn’t enough for Kreacher. The look was completed by a beautiful open dress robe. The fabric was made of the finest silk, in a striking emerald green with golden thread embroidered throughout, depicting an entire galaxy of constellations. Along with just enough Sleekeazy’s to make his hair look purposefully tousled (instead of like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards), and his new glasses that Andi had forced upon him (still his signature round frames, but framed in thin gold wire instead of thick black plastic), Harry thought he looked quite good. He also looked distinctly Slytherin. Narcissa, Andi, and Kreacher thought he looked rather like Regulus but decided against saying that out loud.
Beyond the outfit, Harry himself had never looked better. After coming back from the literal dead, he’d noticed that his power was rolling off him in waves. At first he’d been confused. The weeks on the run and the wear from the final battle should have left him weak. Instead, he felt more powerful than he ever had.
But it wasn’t just his magic that was healing, Harry felt better than he had in … well … ever. By mid-June, Harry had grown nearly six inches. It seemed like the stunt to his growth from years of malnutrition had decided to spontaneously correct itself. More than that, he was finally able to keep on weight. Over the years, he’d obviously been skinnier while living with the Dursleys and had been able to gain some weight while at Hogwarts or with the Weasleys, but he’d always felt like no matter how much or how regularly he ate, he was never able to actually gain weight.
Now though, Harry stood at an impressive 6’2” and his frame was beginning to fill out, finally showing hard-earned muscles from years of quidditch and training for war.
More than that, his scar had truly become a scar. Instead of a bolt through the right side of his face that continued to look like a fresh cut even after sixteen years, it had healed. Now, the scar looked like a true strike of lightning. The stark-white bolt started at his hairline and cut through his right eyebrow before tapering off at his cheek, the small branches off the main bolt had healed almost entirely, leaving the faintest of lines. Where before, the scar would bleed and react to hostile magic, now it lay dormant. A mark of a survivor.
The white scar stood out against Harry’s honeyed skin and jet-black hair. But where, in the past, Harry had always wanted to hide it, now he was proud. He would forever be recognizable; it wasn’t just the scar that gave him away. So, instead of trying to conceal it, he wore it with pride. A stark reminder of his mother’s sacrifice, her love, and her power.
It was the change in the scar that finally led to the explanation for his physical growth and the new strength of his magic. Without Voldemort’s soul invading his mind and leaching off his very being, Harry was finally able to care only for himself. His magic was unbound and his body responded.
Harry and Neville made quite the pair. With Harry’s growth spurt and Neville’s newfound confidence, they stood as two twin pillars. They were the exact same height, a fact that had started several brotherly arguments. They had similar builds and held themselves with the same self-assured poise. While they didn’t look alike, their connection was almost palpable. For those that were attuned to the feel of magic, it was clear that their very souls had recognized each other as kin. While often used in a joking manner, their ability to tap into so-called “twinspeak” exemplified their truly remarkable connection. Whether it be explained by their magical connection as godbrothers or weaved by the very hands of Fate, Neville and Harry were brothers.
Today, they looked even more like a perfect pair. As Harry looked every bit the perfect, imposing Lord Slytherin, Neville was truly Lord Gryffindor.
The man who had summoned the Sword of Gryffindor and severed Voldemort’s final tether to the land of living was out in full force. While he was dressed in black slacks and a white silk shirt from his own wardrobe, the robe had also been found by Kreacher.
Neville’s robe was a similar style to Harry’s, worn open over his slacks and shirt. The fabric, also a beautiful silk, was a deep garnet red inter-woven with gold thread. Because it was a robe made for the Lord of House Black, the thread was obviously woven to depict several constellations. But, unlike Harry’s robe that showed the greater night sky, the threads in Neville’s robe coalesced into a depiction of the Leo constellation on the right shoulder. While the constellation itself was in the same golden thread that woven throughout the robe, the outline of the lion was done in a beautiful maroon that was only slightly darker than the garnet color of the fabric.
Each wore their rings similarly.
They each wore the ring of their primary lordship on their right pinky finger. The Potter ring was a simple gold signet with the antlers of a stag carved into the face. The ring was entirely gold with no stone set into the band. The inside of the ring was carved with runes that leaked Potter magic. When Harry first put the ring on, he could feel the magic wash over him. He felt a warmth he hadn’t experienced in nearly seventeen years. The Potter Family Magic felt like a hug, like a “welcome home” whispered into his messy hair, it smelled like fresh baked bread on a crisp spring day.
The Longbottom ring was silver, set with a dark Lapis Lazuli stone. There was no carving depicting the Longbottom Bear but, like Potter Magic, the Longbottom Magic had welcomed its son home with open arms.
The Black Lordship ring, a silver signet ring with a simple raven carved on the onyx stone carved on the inside with complex runes, powered by a family magic so strong you could almost taste it, sat on Harry’s left pinky finger.
Like Harry, Neville’s secondary Lordship ring, that of Lord Fortescue (Alice’s family line), sat on his left pinky finger. The Fortescue ring was similar to the Black ring in style; a simple gold signet with a wolf carved into red agate face.
The Peverell Ring, somehow magically restored after being turned into a Horcrux and the stone (the Stone) being left in the Forbidden Forest, sat on Harry’s left middle finger. The power of the Peverell Ring is inexplicable. It welcomed Harry just as warmly as the Potter Magic. It always would have welcomed him home; it always would have responded to him. But, after walking into the Forest and greeting Death as an old friend, the Magic was eager to serve its new Lord.
The Slytherin Ring sat on Harry’s right middle finger. The ring of Lord Slytherin looks deceivingly simple; a silver signet set with an emerald carved with a calligraphy style “S” with no other adornment. But, while the ring itself appears simple, the magic it holds is awe-inspiring. The Slytherin Family Magic responds only to a Parselmouth with a pure soul; a soul unmarred by evil magic, a soul not harmed by cold-blooded murder. Tom Riddle, while claiming to be the Heir of Slytherin, would never have been able to claim the Family Magic.
The Gryffindor Ring, likewise, sat on Neville’s right middle finger. Like the Slytherin Ring, it was simple; a gold signet set with a ruby and carved with a “G,” the Gryffindor Ring would only accept a true Gryffindor. While the Lordship was Neville’s by blood, that wouldn’t be enough for him to be accepted as Lord. His ability to call the Sword in battle helped, but the magic of the ring judged him as well. The magic would only respond to a Lord who exemplified all of Gryffindor. Not just blind bravery; but strength in the face of life’s greatest challenges, chivalry toward one’s fellow man, an open heart, love for family, and loyalty above all else.
While their Lordship Rings bled power and signified their place in society, the most important ring each boy wore was on their right ring finger. In an incredibly rare moment of clarity, one that could only be explained by an intervention of Mother Magic herself, Frank Longbottom had taken off his wedding band, handed it to Neville, and said “I love you son, tell Harry that James’ is in his vault,” before the clarity slipped from his gaze and he returned to his normal state.
* * *
Finished at Madam Malkins, the group decided to head down the Alley to look at new trunks. While on the way, Draco decided to take up his usual position of antagonizing Harry Potter;
“So, Ced?”
“You’re joking.” Harry responded.
“I assure you, Potter, I am not.”
“I tell you that entire tale, including the fact that at one point you were the Master of the Elder Wand, and your first question is about my dead boyfriend from Fourth Year?”
“I am absolutely incapable of processing anything else you told us for the next three to five business days so, yes, my first question is about your dead boyfriend.”
“Draco,” Blaise began, “what have we discussed regarding empathy?”
“Oh, sorry Hades, sympathies. I’m just recovering from the shock of finding out that Harry Potter is not, in fact, painfully straight.”
“You’re joking right?” Hermione asked.
“Granger, why would I be joking? This is Earth shattering information. Everyone thought Potter was straight.”
The Gryffindor contingent all immediately stopped walking, almost creating a pile-up in the middle of the Alley. They all looked at each other in shock before Dean finally broke the silence, “what the fuck are you on about, Malfoy?”
“Harry is as straight as Trelawney is sane.” Parvati deadpanned.
“What am I on about? What are you on about? Patil, you were literally his date to the Yule Ball!”
“Draco, have you ever heard of the concept of friends?” Parvati shot back.
“He dated the girl Weasley!” Draco yelled back.
“First off, she has a name, secondly, we are in public so if you’d please refrain from shouting about my love life at the top of your lungs, I’d truly appreciate it, third and finally, bisexual people exit.” Harry whisper-yelled back.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh, Draco,” Harry sniped back before sighing and running a hand down his face. Pausing for another moment to think about how to respond, he ran his hand through his hair before a slight smile spread over face and a pained look entered his eyes. Clearing his throat, Harry said, “what would you like to ask me about Ced?”
“Well now I feel like an asshole.”
“That’s never stopped you before,” Harry teased, “but seriously, I’m happy to talk about Cedric, I still miss him, it still hurts, but I’m finally to the point where remembering him is overwhelmingly nostalgic instead of depressing, so ask away.”
As the group made their way through the trunk shop, the stationary store, and then made their way toward Gringotts, Harry (and the rest of the Gryffindors) told the story of Cedric and Harry. He talked about their friendship after the fated Dementor invasion of the Quidditch Pitch, how he’d realized he had a major crush at the World Cup, how their friendship had grown until Halloween when both their names came out of the Goblet and, after leaving the side chamber, Harry had begged Cedric to believe that he hadn’t entered his own name until Cedric said “fuck it,” grabbed Harry’s face and kissed him. Hermione talked about how she had to literally hit Harry over the head with a pillow to get him to snap out of it when he’d finally made his way back to the common room that night with kiss-swollen lips and a stupid grin.
Harry talked about how they’d trained together for the tasks and about how Cedric was the first person Harry had told about the extent of the Dursley’s mistreatment. He talked about how Cedric had promised to rescue him; but kept to himself how angry he’d been at Cedric for dying and breaking his promise. He told them about stolen kisses and narrowly avoiding being caught by Rita Skeeter and actually being caught by Dumbledore.
By the time they reached the steps of Gringotts, Harry was smiling, at peace with the loss of his first love. After seeing Pettigrew die in the cellar of Malfoy Manor and finally ending Voldemort, it felt as though Cedric had been avenged.
With another promise to meet the girls at Twilfit and Tattings as soon as they were done, Harry and Neville took a deep breath before bowing to the Goblin Guards and stepping into the bank.
--
Harry's Rings
