Chapter 1
Prologue: The Last Will of Lord Charlus Potter
"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."
"You have his key, Sir?"
"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." ~ Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapter 5
The goblin took the letter and read it carefully before nodding. “Very well, I will have a goblin take you to Vault Seven One Three. You, sir, do not have access to Mr. Potter's vaults so he will be taken by his account holder like all good heirs are on their eleventh birthday.”
Hagrid looked shocked to hear that. “But. Professor...”
“MR. Dumbledore can come here and file a complaint all he wants, Heir Potter is requested by his account holder.” The goblin waved his hand and another goblin, who looked a bit younger than the one at the desk, hurried forward. “Griphook, take Mr....Hagrid, to Vault seven one three and then see him to a spot in the waiting area for Heir Potter.”
Hagrid was shown to a hallway as the goblin turned his attention to Harry himself for the first time. “I apologize about that display, Heir Potter.” The goblin said kindly. “We do not like to argue with people who do not have the authorization to speak on the matters. Time is money, after all.”
Harry nodded, feeling a little awkward. “Thank you...sir?”
The goblin nodded. “Indeed. I am Jornamt. If you would follow me, Rimhast, the Potter Account Manager, is eager to meet with you.”
Harry nodded and bowed slightly, not knowing why but feeling like a little respect might go a long way with the goblins. “Thank you, Teller Jornamt, for your time.”
The goblin froze before a large smile took over his face as he came around the giant desk. “You will do well, Heir Potter. Is this your first time with goblins?” He asked as he led Harry to a different hallway then the one Hagrid was lead down.
Harry nodded. “Yes, I was raised by... muggles? Is that the correct term?”
The goblin nodded and smiled a toothy smile. “Yes, that is the term used in the British Magical Society. By and large, the wixen have called the term No-Maj. No and Magic.”
Harry liked that term better. “Yes, then I was raised No-Maj.”
“I can tell. Do not bow, you are not a goblin so that does not apply to you. A deep bow of just the head will be more than fine as long as you remain polite.” Jornamt said as they approached a set of doors that led into a much quieter hallway then before. “Here we are.” He said as they approached a door that held just a simple bronze plaque. Potter.
The goblin knocked before opening the door to peek his head in. There was an exchange of whatever goblins used as a language before Jornamt opened the door and smiled at Harry again. “You are expected, Heir Potter.
Harry smiled at the goblin and bowed his chin to his chest. “Thank you for your time, Teller Jornamt.”
Jornamt nodded his head in farewell before Harry walked into a simple office of stone and wood. “Heir Potter. Please, come in. Water? Tea? We might be here for a little while.” A older goblin, and Harry could only tell by the gray of his hair and beard, told him as he motioned to the seats in front of his much simpler desk then the golden ones in the lobby.
Harry nodded his head deeply again to what must have been his family's personal goblin account manager. “Yes...I'm sorry, sir. I know your name but not your title. I don't want to be rude.”
The goblin laughed and waved for him to come in. “So polite, much better than your own father did. I, Heir Potter, am Senior Account Manager Rimhast, I've been the Potter Account Manager for over three of your families generations. You may just call me Rimhast.”
“I couldn't do that, sir. Not yet, at least. Maybe when I'm older. Would Manager Rimhast be appropriate?” He asked him as he took a seat.
“I could accept that, Heir Potter.” The goblin said kindly. “I've been looking forward to this moment for eleven years, Heir Potter. You do have your family coloring, but you look much like Heir, and future Lord, Charlus did when Lord Fleamont brought him the first time. Remarkably similar.”
Harry sat up straight at the knowledge of his family. “Who were they?”
“Why, that would be your grandfather Lord Charlus and your great-grandfather Lord Fleamont Potter. In fact, it is because of your grandfather that I wanted to meet with you.”
Fleamont? Who names their child Fleamont? Harry tried to, he really did, but he still snickered at the name and Manager Rimhast shook his head. “This,” Rimhast said as he held up a closed envelope. “This is for you. By the will of Lord Charlus Potter. Executed November 14th, 1980.
1980? I was... four months old when he died? “How did he die?”
“Dragon Pox.” Rimhast said sadly. “A nasty case of it was spread and removed a lot of the older heads of families. Here, he wrote this for you. It has not been opened.”
Harry took the envelope and felt a heavy weight at the bottom of it. He saw that there was a seal, just like the letter he had received from Hogwarts, but this was a seal of two crossed wands with what looked like a stylized P for Potter over the top of the wands. He gently pulled apart the seal and pulled out a letter and looked inside to see a large brass ring that would never fit on his finger.
Harry took a deep breath and opened the first words from his father's side of the family.
Harrison, and I refuse to call you Harry because I named you.
Harrison, it saddens me to have to write this to you. We only got to meet you a few times before we got sick, but know that your grandmother Dorea and I love you with all of our hearts. We were there the day you were born and your father wanted to name you Remus Sirius. A fine name, but not for a Potter. I suggested Harrison and that is your name on record, but your father calls you Harry.
I wished we could have had time for this but, alas, Dorea passed last week and I can feel myself succumbing to this disease as well. We are not young, we were already older when James came into our lives. So, please, don't despair. Everyone and everything will die, eventually. We lived our lives well, in my case I lived them hard, and I wouldn't change a thing except dying to this stupid pandemic. I should have died with my wand in my hand.
Your father, I do love him, but he has already asked me to not give him the title and responsibility. He dislikes traditional values and I can understand his frustration with them at this time. I would hope, over time, that he grows out of these habits but I can not take that chance with the family down to two once more.
Because of that, I am naming you, Harrison James Potter, Heir to the Potter titles and lands. I don't care what your father says, this has to happen because he refused. I am leaving my ring for you. Contained is a secret I hope you find great use to you. Once you put it on, you will understand and Rimhast will explain more.
The reason being is that we are a very old family, Harrison. We have been members of the Wizengamot since the first council was formed. Our family has had many inventors, battle-mages, runecrafters, and potioners. Your father is skilled in transfiguration, like I am, but all of our magic is yours. Use it and your political power well.
On that note, if your father hasn't corrupted you into that Dumbledore lightside propaganda yet, our family does not have a family house, no matter what your father or his friends might say. Yes, they are all Gryffindors, but I was a Ravenclaw and Dorea a Slytherin. My father was a Hufflepuff. It does not matter where you go as long as you be you, Harrison.
Know that I wished we could have done this over time with you learning directly from me, but I know you will take this family in directions we have only thought of. I just hope you understand about the traditional values if not practice them. James was given the option and chose to celebrate muggle once he got older. We celebrated Samhain not too long before Dorea left my side. The choice is, as always, still your own.
Good luck and I love you, Harrison James Potter.
Signed,
Baron Charlus Neville Potter
Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter
Order of Merlin, 1st class
By the time he was done reading it, there were some fresh tear marks on the parchment as Harry cried. He was loved, his family did love him. It took a few moments before he composed himself. “My apologies, Manager Rimhast.” He said shakily as he wiped the tears from his face with a conjured hankie.
“Think nothing of it, Heir Potter. Now, I'm instructed I can not proceed any further until you put on the ring.” Rimhast told him as he motioned to the envelope.
Harry nodded and tipped out the ring from the envelope. It was a simple brass ring with a ruby in the center but it hummed in his hand as it made contact with the skin. “Whoa I can feel that.”
Rimhast grinned. “You should, that is the Potter Heir Ring. It's been in your family since before you changed your name to Potter.”
“Really!?” Harry asked astonished at the history of the ring. He watched as it started to shrink before it looked like he could easily slip the ring on to his hand. “Wow, it changed size too? I love magic.” He grinned as he slid the ring on to his hand.
The world stopped for a brief second before the office started to fade to a gentle gray. Information started to flood into Harry's mind faster then anything could describe. Family history, traditions, customs, it all filled into his brain as the magic in the ring transferred from it's last Lord to it's current Heir.
Harry felt and saw his own body start to swell and grow slightly. No longer did he look like he was closer to ten but he looked his age and filled out in his body. His hair grew darker and lengthened enough that he would need to tie it back because he could feel that it would not be cut. He remembered the time Aunt Petunia attempted to cut his hair and it grew back overnight. There was a soft tinkle as Harry felt rather then saw the magic bonds that someone had placed on him shatter as the rings magic filled him.
Before he realized it, the world snapped back into place and Harry cringed at the pain in his head. “Ow!”
“Heir Potter?” Rimhast said as he handed him a soft glowing pink bottle of liquid. “Headache relief.”
Harry nodded as he recognized that it would help the headache. “Pain relief potion?”
“Goblin made, I promise.”
Harry sighed and took it. “I guess charge me for it, Manager Rimhast.” He pulled off the stopper and drank it in one swig. “Now, I just had a bunch of information shoved into my head. I'm assuming that was the Potter Magic?”
“Indeed. The ring would have killed you otherwise. Your accounts are still in good standing, would you like the inventory now, Heir Potter.”
Harry cringed as something filed it's way forward into his thoughts. “No, it's fine. I'm assuming the number has only increased since Lord Charlus' last report. Just make more of it and take 0.05% of what you make for me as a bonus.”
“3%” Rimhast countered.
“1”
“5”
“You're supposed to come down, not up.” Harry raised a brow. “2%. Final offer or I find a new account manager.”
“Bah, you Potters always threaten me with that and I always see the next Potter come through my doors.” Rimhast held out his hand and shook Harry's. “You could have just offered me the 2% like your grandfather.”
Harry just let out a sly grin. “Yeah, but where is the fun in being predictable.”
Rimhast and Harry spent a few hours going over the accounts and properties for the Potters before he handed the young boy a pouch with a stack each of gold, silver, and bronze as well as a new blood red key for the Potter Heir Trust. He didn't have access to everything in the vaults, but the gold that was available was more then enough to shop and stay in Diagon Alley. Plans began to form and ideas were pitched before they made an appointment for the day after next to get everything started for the arrival of the next Lord Potter.
Finally, Rimhast clapped his hands and lead him through an adjoining door to a very plain room of white with a necklace and pendent on a pedestal. “Heir Potter, your family time turner for appointments.”
Harry nodded before turning back to Rimhast with a smile and a deep head bow. “Manager Rimhast. May your sword be sharp and swift.”
“And may your enemies fall before your wand, Heir Potter. Till next we meet.” Rimhast told him as he shut the door behind Harry. “Three and a half turns should be correct.”
“Thank you, my family friend.” He told the goblin as the door sealed shut and he slipped the time turner over his head. Three and a half turns and he was back in time to see himself sitting and talking to Rimhast. Harry pulled off the time-turner and placed it back on the pedestal before exiting back into the hall to see a goblin waiting to escort him back to the lobby.
Harry smirked as he started plans that would see him rise to heights his grandfather believed he could reach.