It's up to me (NEW) | HP

It's up to me (New)

Chapter 03

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Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself as he slipped the Slytherin ring onto his finger. The familiar tug in his gut pulled him forward, and when he blinked again, he was back in the Chamber of Secrets. The shadows were just as creepy as ever, spilling across the damp stone floor from the massive, snake-carved pillars. That eerie green glow? Yeah, it hadn’t gotten any less unsettling.  

Standing right in the middle of it all, like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he did), was Salazar Slytherin. The guy looked as sharp as his reputation—tall, commanding, and with a gaze that made Harry’s insides squirm just a little.  

Harry bowed his head, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. “Lord Slytherin.”  

Slytherin inclined his head in return, his expression unreadable but... maybe a little approving? “Lord Potter,” he replied, voice calm and cutting at the same time, like he could see straight through Harry’s brain.  

Harry swallowed hard, his palms just slightly damp. Honestly, standing in front of *the* Salazar Slytherin? Yeah, it was a lot. But there was something almost... calm about him too, like he wasn’t judging, just waiting for something.  

“You don’t need the Slytherin lordship,” Salazar finally said, his tone low, steady—like this was a decision he’d already made ages ago. “There’s a child, in the line of my eldest son, who will claim it in time. Until then, I ask you to act as regent—to hold the title and protect it until he’s ready.”  

Oh. That wasn’t what Harry had expected, but it wasn’t terrible either. Some of the pressure eased from his shoulders, and he managed a small smile. “I’ll let Lord Ragnarok know.”  

For a split second, Harry thought he saw Salazar almost smile back. Almost. Then, just like that, the founder faded into nothingness. The chill of the Chamber lingered for a beat before that familiar tug yanked Harry back.  

When his eyes focused again, he was standing in Lord Ragnarok’s office.  
Harry glanced over at Ron and the twins. Somehow, just having them around made things feel... lighter.  

He turned his attention back to the fourth box sitting on the desk. Taking a breath, he lifted the lid and stared at the ring inside. Black as midnight, with the mark of the Deathly Hallows etched deep into its face.  

Something about it felt off. Like it was watching him. Judging. Harry’s gut twisted, but he’d come too far to back out now. With a muttered, “Here goes nothing,” he slipped the ring onto his finger.  

The world vanished.  

Harry blinked, but there was nothing to see—just endless, suffocating darkness. He couldn’t even make out his hands in front of him. A pit settled in his stomach. “Brilliant, Potter,” he muttered under his breath. “What were you expecting? Fireworks?”  

Then it came—the voice.  

Low, smooth, and so cold it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Hello, Little One.”  

Harry froze, his breath hitching. The voice carried a weight that made his chest tighten. For a split second, he considered yanking the ring off and running. But no, he was a Gryffindor. Or stubborn. Maybe both.  

“Uh... Greetings, my Lord,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. “How may I... um...”  

“You have a task,” the voice interrupted, silky and sharp, like it had no time for his awkwardness. “There is a hidden chamber, once belonging to Salazar Slytherin’s son. You will find it.”  

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, his mind racing. Hidden chamber? Of course. Why wouldn’t there be more chambers?  

“I know you care for creatures, Young Harrison,” the voice continued, and Harry swore he could hear a smirk in the words. “Free them. Seek out young Newt Scamander for help.”  

Wait—Newt Scamander? THE Newt Scamander? Before Harry could ask questions (or recover from the mental image of Hagrid’s hero joining this mess), the darkness began to fade.  

“I will, my Lord,” Harry said quickly, bowing because, well, it felt like the right thing to do.  

The world lurched, and when Harry opened his eyes again, he was back in Lord Ragnarok’s office. The goblin raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation.  

Harry sighed again. Ragnarok’s sharp eyes flicked toward him. “You were given a task,” he said evenly.  

“Yeah, I was,” Harry admitted, slumping into the nearest chair. “But, honestly? I need a minute. Between the rings, the ancient chambers, and now creatures and Newt Scamander, my brain’s about ready to shut down.” He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping in. “I just... need some time to think.”  

Ragnarok studied him, his gaze as piercing as ever. For a moment, Harry thought the goblin might snap at him to toughen up. Instead, his tone softened, just barely. “Very well. We will discuss it later. You and your friends may remain at Gringotts tonight. Suitable quarters have been prepared.”  

Harry blinked, caught off guard. Staying overnight at Gringotts? That wasn’t exactly normal. “Thank you,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Really. That means a lot.”  

The goblin inclined his head, his expression unreadable as always. “You will be safe here. Take this time to rest.”  

Harry glanced over at Ron, who was sitting nearby, shooting him a look that was equal parts concern and curiosity. Of course Ron hadn’t said anything yet—he was waiting for Harry to bring it up.  

Harry sighed again, feeling the corners of his mouth tug into a tired grin. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “One thing at a time. Just one thing at a time.”  

Ron perked up, his concern melting into a cautious smile. “That’s the spirit, mate. But seriously, what’s this about creatures and Newt Scamander?”  

Harry groaned. “Not tonight, Ron. Tomorrow. Maybe.”  

“Tomorrow, definitely,” Ron replied, smirking. “C’mon, let’s find these quarters before the twins find them first and claim all the beds.”  

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help chuckling as he got up to follow. “One thing at a time,” he repeated, more to himself than anyone else.  
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When the goblin servant left, Harry flopped onto the bed like a puppet with its strings cut. The day had officially caught up to him, and he felt like he’d been hit by one of Hagrid’s hippogriffs. He rubbed his face with both hands, as if that might somehow scrub away the overwhelming mix of emotions swirling inside him.  

That hug—his *dad’s* hug—still lingered in his mind. The warmth of it, the strength in it, felt like something he’d been chasing his entire life without even realizing. For the first time in forever, Harry had felt truly safe, like maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be so hard all the time.  

And yet, the ache followed, creeping in like a shadow. His chest tightened as he thought about his mum, wishing more than anything that she’d been there too. He could almost picture her beside his dad, smiling, her arms around him, holding him like he was the most important thing in the world. Just the thought of it sent a pang through his heart, sharp and heavy all at once.  

“Stop it,” he muttered to himself, swiping at his eyes as tears threatened to spill over. He’d promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t cry—not over things he couldn’t change. Not over things that only existed in his dreams. But Merlin, it was hard. Seeing his dad had cracked something wide open, and now all that hurt he’d stuffed down was rushing to the surface.  

He clenched his jaw, taking a shaky breath. “Just this once,” he whispered to the empty room, his voice barely audible. If he was going to fall apart, at least no one was here to see it. For once, he didn’t have to be the brave Gryffindor or the Boy Who Lived. He could just... be.  

The lump in his throat eased a little as he let himself feel it all—the grief, the longing, the bittersweet joy of seeing his dad. He didn’t bother fighting the tears anymore, letting them slip down his cheeks as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling.  

“Alright, Potter,” he said to himself after a while, his voice hoarse but steady. “One good cry, and then we’re done.”  

With that, he wiped his face, exhaled a long, shaky breath, and let his exhaustion pull him under. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe.
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Harry leaned back in his chair, trying to keep his nerves from showing as Ragnarok set a piercing gaze on him. Ron, sitting next to him, shifted uncomfortably, while Fred and George exchanged wary glances.

“We have much to discuss, Lord Potter-Gryffindor, Regent Slytherin,” Ragnarok began, his voice calm but sharp.

Harry let out a breath. “Can we not do the full title thing? Just Harrison is fine... or Lord Potter, if you really have to.”

Ragnarok’s lips twitched in something that could’ve been a smile. “Very well, Harrison. And you may call me Ragnarok.”

The formalities out of the way, Ragnarok adjusted a stack of parchment before continuing. “First, the test results. There was… an unusual discovery. It appears you carried a Horcrux within you, though it was undetectable to me.”

Ron sucked in a sharp breath. “Bloody hell, Harry…”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, cutting him off with a quick glance. “It’s fine now. Professors Flitwick, Snape, and Babbling already dealt with it. They took care of a few other things while they were at it, so… all clear.”

Ragnarok’s eyes flickered with approval, and he gave a small nod. “Good. Now, regarding the stolen funds and items from your vaults—what action would you like taken?”

Harry frowned slightly, considering. “Can you get it all back? Like... everything?”

Ragnarok inclined his head. “Indeed. There is a ritual that allows us to reclaim what rightfully belongs to you and your family, no matter how it was lost—whether stolen, sold unlawfully, or simply misplaced. As for the monetary discrepancies, Gringotts will rectify those on your behalf.”

Harry relaxed a little at that. “Great. Let’s do it then.”

The goblin reached for a brown file but paused, giving Harry a pointed look. “Before we proceed further, is there anything else you’d like to address?”

Harry hesitated, glancing at Ron, who gave him an encouraging nudge. “Yeah, actually.” He sat up straighter, his voice firm. “Sirius Black… he’s innocent. My dad told me the real culprit is Peter Pettigrew. He’s been hiding as Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers.”

The twins, who had been oddly quiet until now, simultaneously exploded. “WHAT?!” Fred barked, while George leaned forward, his face a mix of horror and disbelief.

Ron, looking horrified, practically jumped out of his seat. “Scabbers? My rat? Peter Pettigrew?! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I wish I was,” Harry said grimly. “But we need to act fast. Pettigrew’s dangerous, and he’s been hiding under our noses this whole time.” 

Ragnarok’s expression hardened as he leaned back, steepling his fingers. “That... is grave news. We will need to confirm this immediately. Rest assured, we will assist in bringing him to justice.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you. I’m not letting Sirius rot in Azkaban for something he didn’t do.”

Ragnarok nodded, his expression serious but calm. “I’ll  inform Lord Black about these developments. Now, moving on to your responsibilities as Lord Gryffindor... You are the third to hold the title.” 

Harry blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait—hold on. Third?”

Ragnarok gave him a look that practically said, Patience, young one, but he answered. “The first was Godric Gryffindor’s son, Augustus. The second, Frederick Gryffindor, was meant to be king of a land called Viola. He was murdered before he could assume full power. Others tried for the title, but none passed the trials.”

“King?” Fred piped up, his eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. “A proper king?”

“Indeed,” Ragnarok said with a sharp nod. “Viola is a kingdom established by Godric Gryffindor himself. It’s two times the size of Australia and located in the South Atlantic Ocean.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You’re telling me there’s an entire magical kingdom out there bigger than Australia? And no one knows about it?”

“Magic,” Ragnarok said simply, like it explained everything. And it kind of did.

“Oh. Right. Magic,” Harry mumbled, running a hand through his hair. 

Ron snorted, elbowing Harry lightly. “King Potter. That’s got a nice ring to it, eh?”

“Don’t even start,” Harry groaned, shooting him a look. 

“We’ll need to visit Viola soon,” Ragnarok cut in, ignoring the banter. “Next week, perhaps. I’ll contact Newt Scamander and others to join us. We can’t be certain of the kingdom’s condition after all this time.”

Harry nodded, his mind still reeling. “Right. Okay. Viola. Sounds... like a lot.”

Fred and George exchanged identical grins. “So, not just Lord Potter, eh?” Fred teased. “Future King Harry of Viola.”

“Harrykins, ruler of a secret magical kingdom,” George added, looking positively delighted at the thought. “Has a nice ring to it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if I’m going to be king, you lot are coming with me. No ditching.”

“As if we’d miss that, mate,” Ron said with a grin. “The chance to see you in a crown? Priceless.” 

“Great,” Harry muttered. “This is my life now.” But despite his sarcasm, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He might not want the responsibility, but at least he wouldn’t face it alone.

Another thought nagged at Harry, something big he hadn’t addressed yet. He cleared his throat, looking at Ragnarok.  

“There’s... one more thing. About the basilisk.”  

“The basilisk?” Ragnarok echoed, his tone sharp with interest.  

“Yeah, uh…” Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “This year at Hogwarts has been... well, a bit of a mess. The Chamber of Secrets was opened. Voldemort’s Horcrux—you know, the diary—did it. He let out a basilisk, and, well... I killed it. And destroyed the Horcrux. But the basilisk’s body is still down there.”  

Ragnarok raised a brow, his expression a mix of surprise and calculation. “How unexpected... and lucrative. Very well, we will handle the basilisk’s remains. But naturally, I expect a 10% cut for Gringotts.” He grinned, a sharp glint in his eyes.  

Harry chuckled softly. “That’s fine. But here’s how I want the money divided. First, 10% to Gringotts, of course.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Then 10% to Hermione Granger—but with a clause. Make sure she can’t access it until she’s 17, and that it’s strictly for her mastery education, buying a house, or future family needs. She’s got loving parents who take care of her, so she doesn’t need it now.”  

Ragnarok nodded, his quill already scribbling. “Go on.”  

“Next, 40% to Ronald Weasley,” Harry continued, glancing at Ron, whose eyes widened in shock. “Set up a separate vault for him. Only Ron can access it. And make sure his parents can’t touch it—this is my gift to him for helping me figure all this out.”  

“And the remaining 40%?”  

“That’s mine,” Harry said simply, shrugging.  

Ragnarok finished his notes with a satisfied nod. “Very well, it shall be done.”  

Ron, sitting beside him, looked like he’d just been hit by a rogue Bludger. “Mate... you don’t have to—” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, looking away.  

“Ron,” Harry interrupted firmly, his tone soft but unyielding. “You helped me, really helped me. You deserve it. And besides...” He gave a small smile, leaning back in his chair. “I promised.”  

Ron blinked hard, swallowing as he gave a crooked, grateful grin. “Thanks, mate. Really.”  

Harry just clapped him on the shoulder. 
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Harry took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs, and opened his eyes. Instead of Ragnarok’s office, he found himself standing in front of a huge black gate. Two massive lion statues, carved from marble, stood on either side of the entrance. Their details were so lifelike, it almost felt like they might leap to life at any moment. Harry blinked, his stomach flipping a little. The sight was enough to make anyone second-guess what was on the other side.

"Must be the wards," he muttered to himself, stepping forward carefully.

His foot caught on something invisible, and he stumbled back with a sharp gasp. Ron, trailing behind him, let out a scream so high-pitched it sounded like a girl had just stepped on his foot. Harry whipped around, startled, and saw Fred and George instantly drawing their wands, their faces set in a way that made Harry realize things were about to get weird.

"What the—" Ron shouted, clutching his chest, his eyes darting wildly from the statues to some sort of invisible barrier in front of them.

Harry didn’t have time to answer. His attention was fixed on the statues again. And that’s when it happened. One of the lion statues, the one closest to him, gave a low, grinding creak. The stone beast shifted its massive body, and Harry’s heart nearly stopped as it lurched forward with a slow, deliberate movement. Its blank, milky eyes locked on him.

Everyone froze.

The lion lowered its head with a heavy rumble, then... bowed.

"Greetings, Lord Potter," the lion's deep, rumbling voice echoed.

Harry blinked. "G... Greetings," he stammered, his mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. The lion was talking. A stone statue was talking.

The lion’s empty eyes felt like they were staring right through him, and Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that it knew *everything*. It knew more about him than he was ready to deal with. 

"You may enter, My Lord," the lion continued, its voice gravelly as it slowly raised its head and returned to its original position, perfectly still as if nothing had happened. 

Harry just stood there, his mind racing to make sense of it all. 

Ron shook his head, muttering, "I really hate magic sometimes." 

Fred smirked, leaning toward George. “Only... sometimes?” he whispered with a raised eyebrow.

George just shrugged, his grin widening. “You’d think he’d be used to it by now.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, though the absurdity of it all still had him a little shaken.

""Right. Let’s get this over with." Harry muttered.

He took a deep breath and pushed the gate open. It creaked loudly, but it wasn’t like the usual eerie creak of something long forgotten—this one felt... alive. The smell of wood and oak hit him right away—earthy, fresh, almost like stepping into a forest after a rainstorm. Warm and welcoming, even though he had never been here before. Harry glanced back at Ron and the twins, still hanging back a little.

"Uh, I welcome Ron Weasley, Fred, and George Weasley into Potter Manor," Harry said, trying to sound more formal than he felt.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the wards shifted. Harry could feel the air change. The invisible barrier flickered once, then disappeared entirely.

The twins blinked at each other, exchanging confused looks, while Ron let out a long breath, clearly still trying to wrap his head around everything that had just happened.

"Well, this is… somethin’," Ron said, glancing sideways at Fred. "How long d'ya think before the house tries to eat us alive?"

Harry laughed, shaking his head. The words felt strangely fitting, given the bizarre things that had already happened/

As they moved further into the manor grounds, Harry paused for a moment, closed his eyes, and took another deep breath. The scent of oak and wood filled his lungs again, settling in him like it had always belonged there. It was a little surreal to think of it that way. A new home, even if it was temporary. Harry smiled softly at the thought.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on a tall statue of a woman standing in the middle of a pond. She looked peaceful, almost like she was meditating, her serene face a calm presence in the middle of the water. The pond shimmered in the sunlight, lily pads floating lazily on its surface, the water so still it looked like glass. Birds chirped overhead, the breeze rustling the trees, filling the air with that perfect, almost magical symphony of sounds.

And in the distance, the Potter manor stood—tall, grand, and unmistakably proud. The white stones gleamed under the sunlight, like they were alive.

Fred, who had been unusually quiet, broke the stillness with a low whistle.
Harry couldn’t help but smile wryly, his gaze flickering over the manor. “Well, we’ve got a lot to see,” he said, nudging them to follow him. “Let’s get started, yeah?”
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Taking in the sights around him, Harry couldn’t help but be impressed by his new surroundings. The tall statues, the shimmering pond, the vibrant colors of the trees and flowers—it all felt so alive, like the place was breathing. He smiled to himself before turning toward the front door. The old wood groaned as he pushed it open, and he stepped inside.

The waiting room was simple, but elegant. Landscape paintings hung on the walls, each one looking like it belonged in some high-end gallery. In the corner, two big, soft sofas sat waiting, their cushions so plush that they looked like they’d swallow you whole. It was quiet and peaceful. He smiled without realizing it.

"Master…!"

The voice broke through his thoughts. Harry whipped around, his heart skipping a beat. There, standing in front of him, was a small house elf. 

Harry blinked. When did he get here?

"Who are you?" he asked, a bit caught off guard.

"I is Dip, Master!" the elf said, ears twitching like they had a mind of their own.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, hello, Dip. Are you the only one here?"

"No Master. There are others!" Dip answered eagerly, his big eyes practically shining.

Harry nodded, trying to get a grip on the situation. "Alright then, can you call the others?" A small smile tugged at his lips.

Dip nodded so quickly that Harry almost worried he might hurt himself. The elf disappeared into the hall, only to return a second later, this time with seven other house elves trailing behind him. They popped into the room like they’d been waiting for this moment, their faces lighting up as soon as they saw Harry. 

"Hello, everyone," Harry said, raising his voice a little so they could all hear him. "I’m Harrison Potter, but you can call me Harry. This is my best mate, Ronald Weasley," he pointed to Ron, who gave a half-hearted wave. "And these two are his twin brothers, Fred and George Weasley," he added, nodding toward the grinning twins.

Fred flashed a cheeky grin. "Nice to meet you all!"

George followed with his own grin. "Yeah, Nice to meet you all!"

Harry gave a nod, inviting the elves to introduce themselves.

One by one, they bowed low to Harry, speaking in unison.

"I is Tessa, Master."

"I is Mip, Master."

"I is Jip, Master."

"I is Pip, Master."

"I is Nib, Master."

"I is Skip, Master."

"I is Zib, Master."

Each elf’s voice was full of pride as they spoke Harry’s name. 

"Thank you all," Harry said with a genuine smile. "I’m really glad to have you here. I’ll take care of this place—and of all of you. Let’s work together, yeah?" The elves all bowed again, beaming.

Harry chuckled and glanced at Fred and George, who were already huddled together, whispering and plotting something. 

 "Alright, let’s see the rest of the manor," he said, turning toward the hallway. "We’ve got a lot to explore." 
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Author Notice:

Hey guys! Chapter 3 is officially done! 🎉 The next chapter will be all about shopping, which I think will be a fun change of pace. 😄

but here's the thing—I can't decide if the shopping trip should all fit into one chapter or if I should split it into two like I originally planned.

I've already written most of it, but there are still a few details I want to add to wrap it up. What do you guys think? Would you prefer the entire shopping trip in one packed chapter, or do two chapters with a bit more detail sound better? Let me know your thoughts!