Gringotts
Somewhere across the sea of time
A love immortal such as mine
Will come to me
Eternally
- Who Is She? by I Monster -
Harry thought he remembered what it felt like a ride in the Knight bus, but he had to admit to himself that he was wrong.
Like, a lot.
After getting off the bus, following a group of witches and wizards, the first thing he did was try not to throw up. The world was spinning with him. He was now somewhat glad that Aunt Petunia was starving him a little.
The moment he felt a little better, he pulled himself together and followed the group ahead of him into the pub, enjoying the way they were making for him through the crowd. The Leaky Cauldron was just as he remembered it -as much as he could see without his glasses-; grey walls, swirling crowds, soft but cheerful music, and a fire in the fireplace, which probably only added to the charm, as it gave off no heat. In fact, it was quite cold. He guessed at various self-acting cooling spells. Not for the first time, he wished he could have use magic at his relatives’.
Delicious smells were floating in the air, and looking around he saw people dining everywhere. The food looked good, although it was not comparable to the feasts of Hogwarts. Harry's stomach churned bitterly. Still, he wouldn't have enough money to pay for it, no matter how he looked at it. Harry sighed sadly; breakfast – more like lunch now - had to wait.
First of all, he needs to get his money.
The road to the bank was not very long. The crowd looked like it was way bigger than normal, almost as big as it was during the last week of the summer holidays, as he found out during his stay here before the third year. Maybe it was just the lunch hour. Harry could still use it to his advantage; he could easily disappear among the people.
In the middle of Diagon Alley stood the Gringotts Wizarding Bank in all its glory. The white and plain marble columns stood tall, towering even higher. Harry walked up to its gates, measuring every corner. Above the gates were scrolled inscriptions, though he could not read them for lack of knowledge of the other language.
Inside there was a great deal of hustle and bustle, although not in an orderly fashion. Wizards were coming and going (mainly by way of apparition), so there was no queue. Harry dodged a few wandering goblins, or wizards coming the wrong way. He walked up to the nearest empty goblin, hoping the swirling noise around him would drown out what he had to say to unwanted ears.
"Good morning, sir." The goblin seemed to twitch his ears slightly, but there was no further sign of interest. Still, he countinued, "My name is Harry Potter, and I'd like to take out money from my vault, please."
At this the goblin raised his head. His name did the trick, as he expected. The goblin ran his piercing eyes up and down on Harry, still with a frown.
"I see," he finally spoke. "Contact your manager in that case. Have a nice day."
Now Harry grimaced.
"I want to, believe me. But the thing is, I don't know where to find them. Would you help me a bit?"
The goblin sighed heavily, but pointed with a curled finger to a side corridor at the far end of the hall. Harry gave a big sigh as the nervousness left his body, and thanked him.
There were quite a few people in the hall where he would have to manoeuvre through, so Harry now wished he was as tall as Ron. Although he had already turned fifteen, he wasn't as tall as his friend, who had a growth spurt the previous summer. After a while he realised that it was better not to go straight across, so he followed the side of the wall. He ran his fingers along the old walls. When he finally reached the side corridor entrance at the far end of the room, Harry hesitated a moment. He couldn't shake the feeling that maybe this was a bad idea after all. Harry shook his head. He's made up your mind, hasn't he? He didn't want to live anyway, so what's the matter?
He stepped into the tunnel. The noises from the hall faded, and a chill crept up his spine, even though he still had his muggle clothes on underneath. No light came in from outside, candles glowed yellow. The corridor branched off into further tunnels, but in front of them, behind a raised table, sat a goblin, who, judging by the strange appearance and features, was probably a female goblin.
"Can I help you?" she asked. Her voice was also higher. Harry had never seen a female goblin before.
He quickly shook himself out of his daze and said a quick yes. He repeated what he had said, just as he had to the previous goblin.
"I see. Do you have a safe deposit key to prove your identity?"
Yeah. That's where Harry got stuck. When he came in his first year, Hagrid had his key, and from then on Mrs. Weasley picked up the money for him to buy supplies to school. And then in the third year he took some money out for himself, but he didn't have access to it all. Let's say even that little bit of money would come in handy now. Or maybe he needed an adult presence? That wouldn't be good, Harry wasn't of age. Will his guardian be notified? They're not sending the Muggles an owl, are they? And his magical guardian is Dumbledore, as he found out at the time of Sirius' escape, which wouldn't be good either. He wouldn't let him go. And that would be the end of the whole vacation mission.
"Er, I don't have it on me currently, sorry. Is there some other way to prove my identity?" Harry asked rather shyly.
God, he hated causing problems to others.
The goblin took a slow survey on him.
"Three drops of blood on this parchment will do," she said eventually. She held up a small knife.
No.
No, no, no.
He heard nothing but his own heartbeat and gasping breath. He looked down at his trembling hands, his pupils constricted, yet his eyes widened. Please, he prayed to some kind of guardian angel, if he even had one. Please, no. He couldn't move. He saw another knife where the knife had been, worn grass where the marble was, a red snake's instead of the goblin's brown eyes, all thirsting for his blood.
No way in hell.
"No. I'm not doing it."
"I'm afraid, sir, there is no other solution. Unless your money isn't urgent."
Urgent? She doesn't understand. Why doesn't she understand? It's urgent! He has to get out of the Dursleys'. (Out, out, out.) Never go back. (Never, never, never.)
Just three drops. Only three drops.
Three drops of blood is not a high price to pay for freedom.
Hesitantly, he reached for the knife. He stepped closer, his hand now hovering over a small bowl. Three drops. He can do it. He took the knife in his right hand (a huge cut was visible on his forearm) and stabbed the index finger of his left hand.
A drop fell.
Not Cedric's blood.
Another one.
Cedric didn't bleed. Not his blood.
Third drop.
Harry jerked his hand away immediately.
While he wiped his blood with the sleeve of his robe, (his blood, or Voldemort's blood, not Cedric's, not Ced's, Voldemort's, HIS-) the goblin slowly dripped the blood into a bowl and slowly spilled it onto a parchment on which letters were beginning to form. (Tom Riddle's blood on his diary? Or was it his diary?)
She looked pleased and held up the parchment for him to see it too. Harry suddenly remembered that he was still in disguise. (As if putting the glasses down count as one.) Harry quickly put his glasses on his nose. Much better. On the paper was his name in large letters, with three lines of small print below.
The goblin pressed it knowingly into his hand. "Looks like you're a little more than what we thought, Mr. Potter."
Hadrian James Potter:
Born: 31 July 1980, Godric's Hollow
Father: James F. Potter
Mother: Lily J. Potter (née Evans)
Godparents: Sirius O. Black, Remus J. Lupin
Head of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter
Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell
Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin
Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Sayre
Harry paled.
That was... a lot to take in. Is Lupin really his godfather? Why didn't he say anything to Harry? Why didn't he come and save him from the Dursleys? At least as a child?, Harry asked himself. They don't beat him now, due to their fear of magic and of him using it on them - like he did two years ago with Marge - but the memories of his childhood wounds, the hunger and the cold still haunts him. Remus may not have had money, but literally anything would have been better than growing up there.
And don't even talk about all those legacies. What does even "Noble" and "Most Ancient" really mean? Why does he have so many title? Potter is okay, but Black and Slytherin? Wouldn't that be a bad thing? Sirius hates anything that ties him to his family and in his second year they didn't make his days very pleasant by suggesting he was the heir. (Were they right all along?) And he had never even heard of the Peverell or the Sayre family.
The giblin cleared her throat, getting Harry's attention.
"If you'll allow me, Mr. Potter, we could do a full probate survey." she suggested. Harry nodded hesitantly.
The goblin then took another parchment from her desk drawer and placed it in front of Harry. However, this time she did not ask for blood, thankfully. The moment the papers touched, the letters crawled across to the second parchment. She held it so that Harry could see the writing as she read it.
"Well, let's see, your inheritance first. You obviously got the Potter family by blood, as well as the Peverell house. Iolanthe Peverell and Hardwin Potter were the first members who passed down the legacy of the Potter family, although Hardwin's father, Linfred of Stinchcombe was the founder in the twelfth century. It makes sense that the Peverell family would go through you, considering that the other main branch of the Peverell family is the Gaunt, whose last heir, Tom Marvolo Riddle, has disappeared over twenty years ago."
What. The. Hell.
Is he really-
He comes from the same ancestors as Voldemort?
And now they share one blood.
Harry is gonna be sick.
"The legacy of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is placed upon you by the will of Sirius Black," the goblin continued. " Although he has been in prison and is now a wanted criminal, he is the only one of his family left with the name Black, and centuries-old laws make the Black name a priority on heritage issues. Evidently this was to prevent the Blacks from blending into other houses. However, no one can be the head of the family, even if he is the heir, until he bears the name Black, so legally there is currently no head of the house, but by magic Sirius Black is. He is considered by magic to be the head of the house until he dies or the magic doesn't turn away from him."
Sirius left him the inheritance? When? Why? Harry had so many questions. Sirius has been trying to shake him off all summer, and Harry feels sometimes Sirius doesn't even want to live with him, and then he comes up with this? How does Harry supposed to feel right now?
"Forward, you got the Slytherin house by conquest." The goblin's eyes narrowed, and she paused for a moment. "This house has no head, only the heirs for centuries. It was the will of Salazar himself and magic honours it. Technically you're the heir only, but you can act on behalf of the house."
It seemed the goblin had no plans to explain further. And Harry knew exactly what she meant. Voldemort was truly the heir. Voldemort was the heir. And he defeated him. He is now the heir. Is this the why he could talk to snakes, (or maybe because of something else)?
And still, here was an another house that Harry inherited.
"The House of Sayre. I have to say however, Mr. Potter, this is quite interesting," the goblin frowned. "After one of their members married into the Gaunt family, they had a daughter, Isolt Sayre, who married into the Steward family. She and her husband, James Steward were two of the four founders of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in America. Their lineage died out in the 17th century, although the descendants of their adopted children, the Boot family members are still alive today. The Boots did not, however, receive the legacy of the Sayre, as they already belonged to the Steward family. The Sayre family's lordship ring was also lost after the bloodline ended."
"T-Then why did I inherit?" Harry did not understand. Yes, apparently they were descended from the Gaunt line, and belonged to the Peverell family by marriage. No, that's not right. Their inheritance already belonged to the Steward family, so from the Sayre family ended with the Gaunt and Sayre daughter (what was her name? Isa? Ison? Isolt!). Harry wasn't in the picture from far away.
The goblin smiled like she knew all the answers to all the questions in the world, and looked at Harry as if she knew his fate.
"Why she chose you is hard to say." Her voice faded, but somehow became warmer. "I'm afraid Mr. Potter you'll have to find that out for yourself."
She?
Who is she?
(You'll have to find that out for yourself.)
From a distance, he thought he heard a faint whisper, but he shook it off. He should sleep. He was almost free. Then he sleeps as much as he can away from Cedric's voice.
(It didn't sound like Ced.)
"In terms of your assets," she pulled Harry out of his thoughts, "given that you inherited several vaults, a manager who has access to several vaults will handle your property. If you do not wish to see him now, we can send an owl later." the goblin informed him, again in the same cold voice.
"No, thank you. Right now is fine."
The goblin nodded and waved for him to follow. Harry did not hesitate this time. He wasn't sure how long they'd been walking, but it couldn't have been more than ten minutes, but they were deep into the kazamas anyway. Harry was pretty sure he couldn't find his way back on his own. Occasionally they passed a goblin or a safe, but mostly they walked through empty corridors. Harry was a little surprised at first that he didn't see any paintings, but on second thought, it only added to the security. However, he was a little surprised at how used he was to the staring eyes hanging on the walls.
Finally they came to a small room, a kind of office. An old and bearded goblin sat at a table in front of them. As we entered, he raised his head, which was previously buried in papers.
"Kadsal. How can I help you? And who have you brought with you?" he asked. Harry had only just realised he didn't know the female goblin's name. Kadsal. He felt bad.
Er, Kadsal briefly explained Harry's situation to the other next, starting from the fact that he didn't have any keys to the details of his inheritance. More frustration, dissatisfaction and perhaps anger appeared on the goblin's face, and then a small smile when Kadsal reached the Sayre's heritage part.
"I see," his voice had a slight edge that Harry attributed to old age, but his tone was energetic and made him feel younger. "Well, Mr. Potter, allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Ertolk, and it appears I'll be your new manager."
"Er, hi. And I'm Harry Potter."
A slight chuckle escaped from the goblin, and Harry blushed in embarrassment. Ertolk brushed it away with his hand smiling and continued.
"I would also like to apologise for the incompetence of the previous Potter manager. You will of course receive compensation."
Incompetence? Compensation?
"Okay." Harry said very smartly. Sometimes he really wanted to hit himself in the head.
"Kadsal, I leave that to you. May I have Mr. Potter's inheritance results? Thank you." Ertolk arranged it straight away. Harry blinked as he watched Kadsal leave the room, leaving him behind. Was he scared? Nope. Not at all.
Ertolk quickly ran his eyes over the parchment.
"You see, Mr. Potter, there's one thing I don't understand. How can you be the head of two houses when you're only fifteen? You shouldn't have that title until adulthood according to the wizarding laws. So how?"
"I have no idea." Harry replied honestly.
"Were there any grown-up events you could attend, despite your age?" That's an easy question. He could answer that even in his sleep.
"The Triwizard Tournament."
The goblin nodded. "True, true! The Triwizard Cup gave out your name. I remember it now. But since there was an age limit this year - and since none of your older relative took your place - you could only enter if Cup considered you an adult, right?
"Right..."
"And such a powerful magical object usually has a powerful magic, Mr. Potter. It may be that because it considered you an adult, it legally emancipated you."
He's emancipated? Legally?
Ertolk looked him in the eye before he continued.
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter. By an ancient magical object you have been certified as an adult."
"I-" Harry froze.
A spark of hope. So many possibilities spun before his eyes. He can cast spells legally. He has money. He doesn't belong to anyone.
He can actually leave.
He's free.
"I can do whatever I want."