A Path Revealed
It's up to me (New)
Chapter 02
___________________________________
Inheritance Test Result
Name:
Ronald Bilius Weasley
Birthday:
1st March 1980
Parents:
Arthur Weasley
Molly Elizabeth Weasley nee Prewett
Siblings:
William Arthur Weasley
Charles Septimus Weasley
Percival Ignatius Weasley
Fred Gideon Weasley
George Fabian Weasley
Ginevra Molly Weasley
Blood States:
Pure Blood Master Mage
Magical Core:
Gray
Magic Core
(50% Blocked by APWBD)
Abilities: (95% Blocked by APWBD)
Battle Instinct (Weasley Family)
Spell Deflection (Weasley Family)
Possible Creature Blood:
Wyvern
Possible familiars:
Raven
______________________________
"Well, thankfully we don’t have any blocks in our magical core… but," Fred began, his voice lower than usual, "we’re heirs to the Prewett line, and Mum didn’t even mention a word about it."
George nodded, mirroring the hint of frustration in his twin’s tone. "Not a single hint. That’s… not good," he muttered, brow furrowing. "You’d think that’d be the sort of thing you’d get a heads-up on, at least."
Ron crossed his arms, sounding more certain than usual. "You both need to start learning—there’s probably loads to catch up on. You’re nearly fourteen."
"Yep," Fred agreed, casting a quick glance at George. "And we’ll need to claim the heir ring soon too… but, my less handsome brother, are we not considered the last of the line? Seeing as we’re the only twins in the Prewett line?"
George’s eyes brightened a bit at that. "Could be. Makes it all the more… interesting, doesn’t it?" He grinned, but there was a glint in his eye.
"Better get a head start then," Ron muttered.
"You’re not wrong, little brother. Not wrong at all."
_________________________________
Inheritance Test Result
Names:
Fred Gideon Weasley
George Fabian Weasley
Birthday:
1st April 1978
Parents:
Arthur Weasley
Molly Elizabeth Weasley nee Prewett
Siblings:
William Arthur Weasley
Charles Septimus Weasley
Percival Ignatius Weasley
Ronald Bilius Weasley
Ginevra Molly Weasley
Blood States:
Pure Blood High Magus
Heir to the:
Noble and Ancient House of Prewett
Magical Core:
Green Core
Abilities:
Creation Magic (Prewett Family)
Possible Creature Blood:
Wyvern
Possible familiars:
Red Fox
Noble and Ancient House of Prewett
Heir Vault - 487
10 000 Galleons
Family Vault - 165
300 700 Galleons
Muriel Prewett Vault - 521
94 030 Galleons
Properties:
Prewett Cottage
Prewett Manor
_____________________________
“So, you’re.."
"Planning to tell.."
"Flitwick about this?” the twins asked.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “We need an adult we can actually rely on.”
“But… Snape, Harry?” Ron grimaced, like he’d just bitten into something sour. “Snape?”
“Just in case Professor Flitwick doesn’t agree. Can’t hurt to have a backup… even if it is Snape,” Harry said, making a face that matched Ron’s.
The twins snickered, then Fred chimed in, “Still can’t believe you’ve got that… thing in your head. Voldemort, honestly, what an idiot.”
“And dramatic,” George added with a grin.
“Oh, that I agree on!” Harry laughed. “Totally melodramatic. He’d probably write poetry about himself if he had the time.”
“Or force someone else to do it,” Ron muttered, cracking a small smile.
_______________________________
The next hour found Harry, Ron, and the twins making their way down the corridors of Hogwarts. He glanced at Ron, who was staring ahead, brow furrowed. The twins were unusually quiet too, though he caught them exchanging looks now and then, their usual smirks replaced with something more thoughtful.
“Alright,” Fred finally broke the silence, keeping his voice low. “We tell Flitwick, yeah? But, uh, what exactly are we telling him?”
“All of it,” Harry replied, glancing at them. “I think he’ll understand. Besides, better we have someone on our side who actually knows the risks. This… isn’t exactly something we can go through alone.”
George nodded, a grin starting to form. “And if he doesn’t believe us, well, we’ve got our charming personalities to win him over, eh?”
Ron rolled his eyes, muttering, “If that doesn’t scare him off first…”
They rounded a corner, Flitwick’s office just a few doors down now. Fred nudged his brother, whispering, “Last chance to back out, my less handsome brother. Ready?”
George straightened his shoulders, giving him a wink. “Born ready, you know that. Besides, what could go wrong?”
Harry just shook his head, trying not to laugh.
Harry hesitated a moment longer before finally knocking on Professor Flitwick's door. As he waited for permission to enter, he braced himself. What he didn’t expect to see was Flitwick, Professor Babbling, and Professor Snape huddled together, deep in discussion. The sight made him want to turn right around and find a different solution to his problem. They all looked startled when they walked in.
“Uh-oh,” George whispered under his breath, earning a quick nudge from Fred.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasleys?” Filius asked, his tone calm but his eyes keen.
Harry took a breath, fidgeting a bit. “I… Well… I’m in trouble and need some help?” He felt his cheeks heat up, which only made him more nervous.
“Here we go again,” George murmured, sharing a glance with Fred, who couldn’t help but grin back at him.
“What have you done now, Potter?” Snape’s voice was laced with that familiar disdain as he rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.
“Severus… Trouble, you say? What kind of trouble?” Filius’s concern filled the room, his gaze softening.
“It’s private. Can you take an oath first, please? I promise that the trouble I mentioned isn’t harming anyone but me and Ron.” Harry’s voice was earnest, and the worry in his eyes seemed to resonate with the three professors, who exchanged concerned looks.
"You are bad this mate." Fred muttered, glancing at Harry with a mix of sympathy and amusement.
“Alright, Mr. Potter,” Filius said, taking a moment to compose himself. “I hope you know what you’re doing. As a professor, I do care about my students’ safety…” He raised his wand slightly, his expression serious. “I, Filius Flitwick, swear on my magic that I will tell no one about Harry Potter's secrets that he will tell me in this room without his permission.”
“Fine… I, Severus Tobias Snape, swear on my magic that I will tell no one about Harry Potter's secrets that he will tell me in this room without his permission,” Snape added, his voice dripping with skepticism.
“I, Bathsheda Babbling, swear on my magic that I will tell no one about Harry Potter's secrets that he will tell me in this room without his permission,” Bathsheda said, her tone firm yet kind.
“Alright, so…” Harry hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “I wanted to know about the wizarding world because I’m muggle-raised.”
“Didn’t you get the Muggleborn package, Mr. Potter? Who was your escort?” Filius asked, his eyebrow arching.
“I didn’t. Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley,” Harry replied.
“I beg your pardon, Potter? Did you just say Hagrid took you?” Severus narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed.
“Yes,” Harry confirmed, bracing himself for whatever came next.
“Severus, we’ll discuss this later. For now, our main focus should be Mr. Potter's trouble,” Bathsheda reminded.
“Nobody told me anything, so I thought of asking for Dobby's help. Dobby is a house-elf. He bonded with me and said where the Room of Requirements is. I went there, studied some books, including the Muggleborn package. The best part is, the Room—well, Lady Hogwarts—can stop time inside. I even did an inheritance test. My magic is blocked by 85%. It was done by my father. And my family magic was blocked by the Headmaster. Oh, and I have a Horcrux in my head,” Harry blurted out, the words tumbling out like a flood, his nerves making his hands twitch.
“You have a what?” Filius shouted, his voice a mixture of fury and disbelief. The other two professors paled. Harry's eyes darted to Ron and the twins, who stood frozen beside him, their eyes wide as saucers. They had never seen their charms professor shout like this.
Fred whispered to George, “Did we just witness the world’s tiniest volcano erupt?”
George barely stifled a laugh but quickly turned serious again. “No kidding, mate. This is next-level.”
Filius took a moment to gather himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mr.Potter, do you understand what this means? A Horcrux isn’t just some artifact; it’s dark magic at its worst. And having one inside you—”
“I know!”
Filius took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “We need more details, Mr. Potter,” he urged.
Harry nodded. He can do that.
______________________________
His scar felt like it was on fire, the pressure pounding, and his own screams echoing faintly in his ears. He tried to move, tried to lift even a finger, but his muscles were heavy, frozen stiff, and panic clawed its way up. The world spun around him, dizzy and dark, and his eyelids fluttered before a shadow—twisted, screaming—appeared as everything faded to black.
Harry came to with voices around him—shouting, anxious murmurs mixing together. He forced his eyes open, but a sharp pain pierced through, making him squeeze them shut again. His whole body felt limp, weak, soaked in sweat.
“Easy, Potter,” came Snape’s voice, deeper, steadier than usual. A touch of concern? Or maybe he imagined it.
“I… Wh’t happened?” he mumbled, his throat rough like he’d swallowed sand.
Professor Flitwick’s voice was calm but firm. “We managed to destroy the Horcrux in your scar, Mr. Potter. You’ve been out for a few hours. I also removed the blocks placed on you. Expect your magic to be... unsettled for a bit.”
Harry tried to take it in, but the words blurred. “Al’rght…” he slurred.
“Sleep, Mr. Potter,” Snape’s voice came again, softer this time. And that was all he needed. He let himself slip back, the pull of sleep wrapping around him like a warm blanket.
______________________________
"I’m just glad our magical core isn’t damaged," Ron muttered, sinking back into the sofa with a sigh.
“True,” Harry nodded, “but we’re still going to need to be careful. It’s... a bit unstable.”
“I don’t like it, mate,” Ron whined, arms crossed in protest.
The twins jumped in, smirking. “Quit whining…”
“Ronnikins…”
“You sound like…”
“A little kid…”
“But I am a kid…” Ron retorted, managing a laugh despite himself.
Harry chuckled too, watching Fred and George exchange their usual mischievous looks. Fred leaned forward with a grin. “Alright... so what’s our next move, then?”
“We’re going to Knockturn Alley,” Harry said with a shrug, casual as anything.
“Whatever for?” Ron asked, trying to raise one eyebrow but ending up lifting both, like always. Harry stifled a grin—it never got old watching him try.
“Yeah, mate… why are we heading there of all places?”
“To buy a wand, of course.”
“But we don’t have money,” Ron pointed out, crossing his arms.
“I’ll pay for it.”
Ron frowned, looking a bit awkward. “No, I don’t like it, Harry. Look, I love ya, but…”
“Shut up, Ron. Think of it as a loan, alright? You’re going to be rich anyway.”
“How’s that, then?”
Harry gave him a sly grin. “Remember the basilisk?”
“Uh… yeah?”
“It’s worth millions of Galleons. I asked Lady Hogwarts, and apparently, it’s all mine since, well… I killed it. So when I head to Gringotts, I’ll just mention it to the goblins, and they’ll take care of it.”
“But that’s yours!” Ron protested, looking both surprised and a little impressed.
“I know, but without you, I wouldn’t have done it.”
“You’re giving some to Hermione too, right?” Ron asked, smirking a bit. “And maybe… Ginny?”
Harry hesitated. “I’m thinking about Ginny, but I don’t think so. Just you and Hermione, for now.”
“Why?” Ron asked, looking a bit uncertain.
Harry sighed. “Look, Ron, she was probably Confunded to write in the diary, but I checked with Lady Hogwarts. She can sense… well, a lot of things. And there was no confundus or other magic on Hermione or Ginny from Dumbledore. Their actions were their own. Ginny broke the spell when she tossed the diary, but when she noticed I had it, she took it back. How daft is that, Ron? She put everyone in this castle at risk just to get it back. Can you understand that?”
“Yeah… I guess,” Ron muttered, looking down.
“We do understand, Harrikins…” the twins chimed in, faces serious.
“It’s your money…” Fred said.
“You should choose…” George added, their voices low but steady.
“And we…” they continued.
“Agree…” Fred said, nodding.
“Our sister…” George finished, smirking just a bit, “… is an idiot.”
____________________________
As they entered Knockturn Alley, Harry kept his eyes sharp, taking in everything around him. Shadows seemed to press in closer here, and he felt every nerve on edge. Knowing he was without his wand, he'd asked Dobby to tag along, just in case, though the little elf stayed out of sight. He glanced at Ron and the twins, gave a quick nod, and headed toward the small, unmarked shop with a sign that looked like it’d been through a century or two. Just an old board with an etched wand—Dobby had said this was the place.
“Blimey...this place gives me the shivers,” Ron muttered, his eyes darting to every dark corner.
“Looks like it hasn’t seen a cleaning spell in ages,” Fred added, eyebrows raised as he took in the dingy walls.
Inside, it was nothing like Ollivander’s. No neat rows of wands, no polished counters—just walls painted a dreary, worn-out brown, with dim candlelight barely enough to see by. Behind a scratched counter stood an elderly man polishing a wand with slow, deliberate movements. His gaze lifted as they entered, and his eyes settled on Harry, studying him like he could see straight through him. Harry felt a shiver crawl up his spine.
“Oi, think he’s sizing us up or just forgot how to blink?” George whispered, though his usual grin was nowhere to be seen.
The old man’s eyes lingered on Harry a moment longer before he spoke, his voice like gravel. “Come for a wand, have you?”
Harry nodded, his voice coming out rough. “Yes, sir.”
"Lord Potter, it seems you are one of Lady Magic’s favorites,” the man said, his voice a low rumble, deep and calm.
“Come along.” The man beckoned them further into the shop, and Harry, with Ron and the twins close behind, followed him to a cluttered table against the back wall. It was crowded with strange trinkets, woods and many more.
“Let your magic wander,” the man said, nodding at the table. “It’ll know what you need.” Then, turning to Ron and the twins, he added, “Same goes for you three. Trust it.”
Harry glanced over at Ron, who looked a bit skeptical but shrugged. Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes to focus. He reached down into his magic, letting it pulse out gently toward the table. He felt it almost immediately—something tugging back, as if calling to him. When he opened his eyes, six items had lifted themselves slightly above the table, glowing faintly.
“Merlin’s beard,” Ron muttered, watching as his magic stirred around him, lifting items from the pile. Fred and George were focused too, their eyes shining as a few pieces started to rise.
The old man smiled slightly and collected each floating item, placing them in front of Harry, Ron, and the twins.
"Young lord and Mr.Weasleys Please return within two hours. Your wands will be ready."
They all nodded, exchanging quick grins before stepping out of the wand shop.
______________________________
Out on the narrow, shadowed street, Ron finally let out a breath. “Blimey… that was something else,” he muttered, glancing down at his new wand as if checking to make sure it was real.
Fred twirled his wand with a grin. “Could get used to this, eh, George?”
George nodded, looking pleased. “Best thing we’ve ever done in Knockturn, that’s for sure.”
Hermione being alright filled Harry with a deep relief. She might be a bit much sometimes—always nagging about rules and homework—but she’s still one of his first friends, one of the few people who took him as he was. Just like Ron, who’d stuck by him through thick and thin, always ready to take on the next adventure, even if they both didn’t have a clue what they were doing.
Harry knew they’d probably all stumble along the way—everyone makes mistakes, right? But they had each other’s backs, and that meant more than he could put into words. He wasn’t blind to the fact that even the best friendships could hit rough spots. Sometimes people drift, get caught up in different things… but he figured that, no matter what, they'd always have this bond. And if Ron and Hermione ever found new friends, that’d be alright too. As long as they remembered he’d be there, like they’d always been there for him.
But right now, it was him, Ron, and the twins who were ready to shake the world up this summer. Harry felt a thrill rising in his chest. He hoped his plan was going to work, and having Ron and the twins staying with him made him really glad because he wouldn’t be alone.
__________________________________
His body tensed up when he spotted Mrs. Weasley at King's Cross Station, but he managed to put on a cool smile.
"Harry, dear! Thank you again. You saved my Ginny," she said, enveloping him in her usual warm, motherly hug.
"Stay calm. Be cool," he whispered to himself, trying to keep his nerves in check.
"You're welcome, Mrs. Weasley. I really should be heading out. Uncle Vernon is probably waiting for me," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh, that man..." she huffed, rolling her eyes a little as she released him.
"Well, go on, Harry dear. Remember to write," she added, giving him a small, reassuring smile.
"Bye, Harry! See you soon!" Ron called out, waving his hand enthusiastically.
"Bye, Ron!" Harry shouted back, then ran into the wall.
As he scanned the station, he spotted Uncle Vernon waiting for him, looking as grumpy as ever. Hermione and her parents were also there, and they gave him bright smiles that made him feel welcome.
"Harry…" Hermione greeted him with a quick hug.
"Hermione…" he replied.
"We're off to France, so I’ll write you as much as I can!" she said, her excitement bubbling over.
"Okay, safe journey! Enjoy the trip!" he replied, genuinely hoping she’d have a great time.
"Thanks, Harry! Bye!" she waved at him as she and her parents headed towards their train. He waved back, feeling a bit sad to see her go.
"Well… Boy, let's go!" Uncle Vernon barked, clearly impatient to leave. Harry felt a familiar knot in his stomach.
_____________________________
Harry tilted his head, scowling at the dusty room that felt like a prison. The musty smell of his room wrapped around him like an old, worn-out blanket, and the bars on the window felt like a cruel joke. He shook his head, frustration bubbling up inside him. The Dursleys had always been brutal.
As a kid, he had learned to keep his head down and blend into the background, feeling unwanted and unloved. The hurt had been a constant companion, festering with every cutting remark and shove. Even now, the thought of it made his stomach churn.
The previous days had also left him exhausted. He thus has no interest in engaging with the Dursleys at this moment. In a flash, he scrawled a message announcing his summer escape. He does, after all, need training. He will seek revenge at the end of the summer. He is unable to do it at the moment.
______________________________
Harry, with Ron and the twins by his side, stopped at the entrance of Gringotts to give a quick bow to the goblin guards. They responded with a surprised look, their eyes widening a bit.
As soon as he stepped through the big door, the smell of bergamot hit him. He scanned the room and saw just two other customers, while goblins hurried around, doing their business. The place buzzed with a loud ringing sound, like a magical concert of clinks and clatters.
Harry felt a weird wave of magic wash over him, kind of tingly and sour in his mouth. Must be goblin magic, he thought. He made his way over to the nearest goblin teller and waited, the energy of the place making him nervous.
He met with a raised eyebrow from Goblin, "Young Mage, greetings. How can I help you?"
"Greetings Master teller, I'd want to meet the Director," Harry said, placing his inheritance test on the table with a little more confidence than he felt.
The goblin narrowed his eyes as he read through the parchments. Suddenly, he jerked his head back and let out a loud roar in gobbledygook, catching the attention of several nearby goblins. Harry glanced at Ron and the twins, who looked just as confused as he felt.
"What is the meaning of this, Teller?" Lord Ragnarok demanded in a gravelly voice, his eyes sharp.
"My Lord Ragnarok, you need to see this," the goblin teller said, his tone submissive as he laid Harry's inheritance test on the desk. Harry could see curiosity flicker in Lord Ragnarok's gaze.
After examining the parchments, Lord Ragnarok's expression shifted. "It appears we have a traitor among us. We'll take care of it, Mr. Potter." He rang a small bell that was hidden from view, his demeanor serious.
"Thanks, My Lord," Harry said. Ron leaned over and whispered, “What do you think this means?”
“I’m not sure.” Harry replied.
______________________________
A goblin entered the office, carrying a small chest. Lord Ragnarok nodded at him, signaling to set it down. After the goblin hurried out, Lord Ragnarok opened the chest and pulled out four small boxes, laying them out in front of Harry.
"These are Lordship rings," he explained, his voice steady. "The first one is the Potter Lordship Ring." He paused, looking directly at Harry. "Young Mr.Potter, I wish you success."
Harry inhaled deeply and opened the silver box. As he peered closely at the ring, he saw the Potter family crest engraved on its head: a majestic Griffin holding two swords, a symbol of strength and honor. He slid the ring onto his middle finger.
In an instant, the world around him faded, and he found himself in a dimly lit room. The air hummed with a warm, vibrant magic, intertwining with his own like a long-lost melody. It felt familiar and comforting, and that’s when he noticed a figure standing before him—his father.
His father smiled softly, a gentle expression that filled Harry’s heart with longing. A strangled sob escaped Harry's lips, and he fought to hold back the urge to rush into his father's embrace. They locked eyes, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. Tears burned in Harry's eyes. His lower lip trembled.
"Hello, Harry. I waited for this moment for 11 years." His father's voice brought forth a wave of emotion, and tears spilled down Harry's cheeks.
"Dad…" Harry choked out. He could feel his father's strong hands wrapping around him, holding him firmly as if he would never let go. In that moment, Harry cried silently, letting the warmth of his father's embrace wash over him for the first time in over a decade. It was a feeling he had only dreamed of—being held by the man he had always wanted.
"I'm sorry, Harry. We never wanted this to happen," James murmured.
"We wanted to escape to another country. But before we could, Voldemort came." A single tear escaped James's eye, and he held Harry even tighter, as if trying to shield him from the past.
“Why... Why... did he come after us?” While struggling to hold back his sobs, he managed to ask.
“There was a prophecy,” James replied, his tone becoming cold and distant. “It said that you have the power to defeat the snake-faced bastard. But it was fake.” Harry could hear the bitterness in his father's voice.
“So you died for nothing,” Harry muttered. He buried his face deeper into his father's chest.
James held him tightly. “We died saving you. Harry, we would do it a thousand times over if it meant keeping you safe. We will always protect you.” He gently kissed the top of Harry's head.
“Is this real?” Harry asked, lifting his head to meet his father’s gaze.
“Yes,” James confirmed. “This room was created by the sixth Lord Potter of our house. As you know, this is where the heir is given the task of becoming the lord of the house. But you don’t need to complete a task to prove yourself, Harry. You’ve already shown how wonderful my son is. And now, you are officially Lord Potter.”
“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened.
“Yep,” James replied with a proud smile. “But listen to me very carefully. You need to free Sirius.”
“Sirius...? Sirius Black? My other father? Paddy?” Recalling the black dog in his memory, Harry asked.
“Yes. He’s in Azkaban without a trial. Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers, is Wormtail. His real name is Peter Pettigrew. He betrayed us to Voldemort, not Padfoot.” The rage in James’s voice sent a shudder through Harry.
“So an innocent man is rotting in a prison,”
“Yes,” James confirmed, his tone solemn.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you, Harry.” James cupped his left cheek lovingly.
“Can I see Mom?” Harry's hopeful voice tugged at James’s heart, making him ache for the son he had missed for so long.
“You will in a few years, prongslet. That I promise.” James’s voice softened, filled with love and warmth. “Harry, be careful with Dumbledore. He’s not an evil person, but he’s not good either. And I wish you all the luck, my son. You have a great destiny ahead.”
The last thing he felt was his father's kiss on his head. Suddenly, he was back in Lord Ragnarok's office, his eyes brimming with tears. He glanced down at the Potter Lordship ring, now fitting perfectly on his finger, glowing with a golden light.
“Mate, are you alright?” Ron asked, concern etched across his face as he noticed Harry silently crying. It tugged at Ron's heart.
“I’m fine. I’ll tell you later,” Harry replied, trying to reassure him with a shaky smile, even though Ron could tell that everything was far from okay. Ron nodded, though doubt lingered in his mind. He wanted to press further but decided to give Harry some space.
“Congratulations, Lord Potter,” Lord Ragnarok said, a small smile breaking through his serious demeanor.
“Thank you, my lord,” Harry replied.
As he looked at the Gryffindor crest on the ring, he noticed the sleeping red dragon engraved in the center. The moment Harry slipped the ring onto his finger, something magical happened—the dragon's eye opened and blinked at him. A low hiss echoed in his mind, sending a shiver down his spine.
“You are worthy. But you must seek Lord Godric Gryffindor’s portrait, young lord,” the voice hissed before fading away.
As the hissing voice vanished, the ring with red glowed fitted into his finger. Harry sighed in relief. Where could he possibly find Godric Gryffindor’s portrait? His thoughts raced.
See you on November 8th Sri Lankan time.