The Gift
The new school year was only a week old, yet Harry was feeling apprehensive. The Triwizard Tournament, a tournament that, according to Hermione, had been discontinued because of the rising death toll, had been brought back, and Hogwarts was to host the damned thing.
It was a source of relief that he was ineligible to enter, given that students under 17 couldn’t enter their names. But that gave him pause for thought. Since arriving at Hogwarts, much as he loved the place, his life had been fraught with danger. With a teacher possessed by Voldemort, a Basilisk loose on the school, and an army of Dementors nearly stealing his soul, nothing about his education could be considered normal.
That was why he was on the Quidditch field, riding his Firebolt, as he tried to clear his mind. If the last three years were any indication, somehow, he would be entered into the Tournament. If that were the case, he’d be facing deadly tasks with no help from the teachers. He needed a plan, some way of saving his life if the worst came to pass.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice from below. “Harry! Harry Potter!”
Looking down, he saw two figures on the field. He was too high up to recognize them immediately, but he was certain he could make out the green robes of Slytherin.
Descending slowly, in case they were planning something, he found himself facing two Slytherin girls from his year: Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis.
“Can I help you?” he asked politely, but cautiously. He knew not all Slytherins were as bad as Malfoy, but he wanted to be careful all the same.
“I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced. Daphne Greengrass, Heiress of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass.” She held out her hand... with the palm facing down.
“Um, Harry Potter of the... Potter Family.” Harry took her hand and shook it slowly, a look of confusion on his face.
At that, Tracey began snickering, trying to hold back her laughter, while Daphne looked rather put out.
“So, Granger was right. You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“That’s not how you’re supposed to greet me. I’m guessing that also means you don’t know who my mother is, do you?”
“Your... mother? No, why would I?”
Huffing in exasperation, Daphne turned to Tracey. It was then Harry realized she was holding something wrapped in parchment. It looked like a book, but that wasn’t what Tracey handed to her. Instead, Tracey handed an envelope that she held atop the book.
Opening the envelope, Daphne pulled out some pictures and handed them to Harry. Taking them curiously, his eyebrows went straight into his hair at what he saw.
They were pictures of girls his age. But there was one he recognized almost immediately. Sitting with three other girls, was his mother, Lily. They were all laughing and smiling.
“Where... where did you get this?”
“From my mother, Cassandra Greengrass. She’s the one on the right-hand side. The others are Alice Longbottom, before her marriage to Frank Longbottom, and Amelia Bones. They were members of an inter-house study group. Friends for as long as they were alive.”
Harry now had tears forming in his eyes. This was another piece of his parents, something that he had been denied all his life. To see his mother as a student, carefree and happy, was wonderful.
The other pictures were of an older Lily and friends. But one stood out above the others. It was a picture of his parents' wedding day. His mother looked beautiful, and next to her, one of the bridesmaids was Cassandra Greengrass.
“Thank you, Daphne. Thank you.”
“You really haven’t seen these pictures before?”
At that, Harry laughed bitterly. “I didn’t even know magic was real till I was eleven. I was raised by my mother’s magic-hating sister. For as long as I can remember, they told me my parents died in a drunk driving accident and were ‘useless good-for-nothings.”
Daphne had a look of both shock and confusion, not understanding what ‘drunk driving’ was, while Tracey had a look of horror on her face, realizing exactly what Harry had been told his whole life.
“Well, then you may like this even more.” Looking up, Harry saw Tracey offering him the package she had been holding.
Taking it from her, he opened the parchment and saw he was right. It was a book, one bound with a deep red leather, and a dragon embossed in the front. But it was the title that took him by surprise: Dynasty of Dragons: The History of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, by Lord Charlus Potter.
Looking up, he saw the two girls walking away. He called out to them “Wait!”
When they stopped to turn back, he asked “How did you know I knew so little about my family?”
Rather than Daphne responding, Tracey grinned. “We’re both in Arithmancy with Hermione. My dad’s a Muggle, so we started talking about what our parents do for a living during the summer. We brought Daphne into the talk, and suddenly we’re discussing your family.”
“But how did my family become part of the talk?”
This time, Daphne responded. “My family is a family of traders, and we have long-held ties to the Potter family. It is my hope that those might be renewed someday... Heir Potter.”
With that, the two girls walked out of the stadium, leaving Harry on his broom, book in hand, and a look of wonder on his face.
The origins of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter can be traced to before even the founding of Hogwarts. The earliest known Potter was Tiberius Potter. His exact date of birth is unknown, as is his death, but what is known is he lived in the Kingdom of Gwynedd, the northwest of modern Wales.
The locals of the village he called home knew him as a humble if somewhat eccentric, trader and craftsman. However, the wizards of the British Isles knew him as the greatest master of Transfiguration of his age. During his life, wizards and witches alike would travel far and wide in the hopes of being made his apprentice. While unable to train all of them, he made a point of visiting them as often as possible during his travels, passing on bits and pieces of his extensive knowledge to those that sought it.
During one such travel, he had an encounter that would change his life and magical Britain's history.
On the road, he is said to have come across a group of refugees, families seeking out a new home after their village was burned to the ground. A humble, friendly chap, Tiberius would share his supplies, and travel with the refugees, quietly promising to protect these innocent lives from whatever had taken their homes from them.
His promise would be fulfilled, as soon a dark figure could be seen soaring across the sky. Sending the refugees ahead, Tiberius stayed behind, ostensibly to distract the monster, but in truth, planning to fight it, hoping to defeat it, or at least buy his new friend's time.
When it landed near him, his worst fears became realized. The monster was a dragon, but not just any dragon, but a Great Golden Demetean Striker. This dragon, now extinct, was considered an extremely rare cousin of the Common Welsh Green, known for its distinctive gold coloration, large size, and ferocious disposition.
It is fortunate then, that of the wizards of that time, Tiberius was one of the few capable of facing it and surviving.
What followed was a battle of legend, a duel between one of the most fearsome dragons in Europe, and a master of Transfiguration. Every weapon that man can conceive of was created during this duel, banished at the dragon as it soared through the sky. The grass and the rocks turned into allies that would charge the dragon when it landed.
As the duel dragged on, Tiberius hit upon a risky gamble. Rather than face the dragon as is, he hoped to use his mastery of Transfiguration to turn the dragon into something more manageable. It was a risky move, not just because of the difficulty that comes with it. Even a single misspoken word, or improper wand movement, can change the caster, not the target.
Regardless, he prepared the spell, but something went wrong. Whether it was a misspoken word or movement, the outcome was the same. The dragon was indeed transformed, and because of the magic poured into the spell, the change was likely permanent.
But where once stood the fearsome dragon, now stood a beautiful young woman, possessed of a feral beauty that left men breathless.
Exactly what happened next is unknown, however, according to the records, this dragon-turned-human woman would marry Tiberius, and mother his children. It is thanks to the eldest of these children that we have this record: Octavian Potter.
Octavian would enter the service of King Rhodri the Great, and as a reward for his loyalty and service, the King bestowed upon the Potter family a title of nobility, and land between Cardigan Bay, and the Snowdon mountain.
It is from Octavian Potter, son of the dragon, that all Potters can trace their lineage to. This unique status among wizards has engendered a reputation for magical power, and a distaste for the blood-purity doctrine that would become prevalent among the Dark families of wizarding Britain.
A week had passed since that meeting with Daphne, and since then Harry hadn’t been able to put the book down. Whenever he found the time, he returned to the book, eager to learn more about his heritage, and the family he was born to.
And yet, a part of him wanted to cry with each new chapter. His family was filled with witches and wizards who had done remarkable things, and he couldn’t help but compare this lineage to his own pathetic situation. An abusive home and his magic was suppressed at every opportunity. It was hardly something that would be expected of someone who could claim descent from dragons.
But this new knowledge awakened something in Harry. He felt a roaring fire burning within his soul, one that refused to be extinguished until he had matched his forefathers.
To that end, every spare moment not spent on homework was devoted to studying. Harry began reading every book relevant to his studies that he could get his hands on. The library soon became a regular stop for him, as book after book was checked out, read to completion, and returned shortly.
To his dormmates, this sudden change took them by surprise. They’d always known Harry as being intelligent, but never quite this... obsessive when it came to studying. Hermione, on the other hand, was initially thrilled at this change. She’d always felt that Harry could achieve so much more if he only applied himself.
For the first few days, she was an eager helper in his search for knowledge. By the end of September, however, Harry had begun to surpass her. While Hermione still had more book knowledge than Harry, he had begun to master spells with remarkable efficiency. Most of the spells they were expected to learn this year, he had already mastered.
Now, as they began to consider moving on to the fifth-year curriculum, Hermione decided to voice her now-growing concerns.
Approaching him in the Common Room, she asked quietly “Harry, are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’ve gone through the entire course curriculum in a month. Even I don’t study that much.”
Putting down the book he was reading, Harry turned to her.
“I’m sorry if I’m worrying you, Hermione. I just don’t want to be caught unprepared.”
“Unprepared for what?”
“Anything. This is my fourth year at Hogwarts and every year, I’ve had something trying to kill me. First, it was Quirrelmort, then the Basilisk, and last year it was Dementors. The last thing I need now is being caught unprepared by a hypnotized dragon, or a possessed nundu.”
“She’s right though, mate.” Ron took the moment to sit across from Harry. “You need to relax, unwind a bit. It’s not like you’re guaranteed a death match by summer.”
“Maybe not, but all the same...”
“Harry, please. It’s a nice day out, and we’ve got a month before the Tournament begins. You can worry about death matches later. Right now, you and the rest of the Quidditch team, are going to have a practice match.” Hermione spoke in a tone that made it clear she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Looking past her, he saw the team had indeed assembled in the Common Room, brooms in hand, ready to go.
“You planned for this didn’t you?” Harry smirked as he looked at Hermione, who smirked right back at him.
“That’s right. Now get your broom. You’re going to have a match, and I’m going to keep score.”
In the days following that game, Harry slowed down his obsessive studying. It had paid off, without question. Next to Hermione, he was now the top student in his year. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were impressed by his progress and encouraged him to keep at it. Professor Moody, in his own gruff manner, applauded his skill, but reminded him to maintain “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”
Snape was the same greasy dungeon bat the rest of the school hated. If there was an upside, he at least gave some credit when he did well in class.
But Harry still returned to the book Daphne had given him. He hadn’t shown it to Ron, Hermione, or any of the other Gryffindors. Part of this was he didn’t want to seem like he was bragging. But another part felt ashamed. Ashamed that he still hadn’t reached the level of his predecessors.
But he got to thinking if his family truly was as old as the book claimed, then it posed the possibility of them having access to spells and other forms of magic, magic that the rest of wizarding Britain wouldn’t have.
Of course, this also raised the question of how he could get access to that knowledge until he hit upon an idea.
The Malfoy family had their own house elves, as did the Crouch family. Assuming the Potter family was just as old, if not older, than these two families, did the Potters have house elves? It was a leap of faith, to be sure, but worst-case scenario, he simply stands around looking like a fool. If he was right...
With that in mind, on the 19th of October, Harry went to find a quiet, secluded spot on the Hogwarts grounds. Satisfied that no one was around to watch, he took a deep breath and spoke. “Potter house elves? I... I call upon you.”
For a moment, Harry thought he must be mental to try this until he heard a distinctive pop!
Turning to the source, he found a house elf standing before him. Like Dobby, it was short, with large ears and eyes. However, this one had grey, wrinkled skin, and white facial hair, and wore a black and red cloak over its hunched frame.
The house elf looked him in the eyes, as its face lit up with a mixture of joy and relief.
“Master! At long last, you have returned to us!”
“It... it worked! I thought I might be mental to try that.”
“My lord, are you alright? You sound off... do you require the services of a healer?”
“No thank you. But who are you?”
“Ah, forgive me sire. I am Gnarl, Chief House Elf for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. I have served your family for 600 years.”
“ 600 years!?”
“ Indeed, Master. But, surely this is not news to you? Surely Master Sirius explained this to you growing up?”
“No, he didn’t. The Wizengamot sent him to Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit, and I was raised by my mother’s sister since I was fifteen months old.”
Gnarl became quite alarmed at that bit of information. “Azkaban!? And, you were raised by Petunia!? Oh dear, Master Charlus would have my head if he were still with us.”
Before he could fret any further, Harry spoke calmly “Listen, Gnarl. I want to hear more about my family, but can we talk later, and elsewhere? I don’t want people to know I can call upon you yet.”
“Of course, Master. Call upon me, or the other house elves, whenever you wish. We will be ready to answer your summons.”
“Thank you, Gnarl. I, uh... I guess ‘return to your duties’?
With that, Gnarl simply popped away, leaving Harry standing alone, confused, yet hopeful for the future.
Over the next few days, Harry would call Gnarl at various times. The old house elf was thrilled to have a Potter to serve again, and when the discussion veered toward the Potter house elves, he made quite clear the other house elves were ready, and eager, for him to return.
As October 31st drew closer, their discussions turned more towards the upcoming Tournament.
"You believe something will happen during the Tournament, something that forces you to fight for your life?"
"In the three years since I've been at Hogwarts, I've had a possessed teacher try to kill me, I've had to face a Basilisk, and I've had to fight off an army of Dementors. This Tournament was discontinued because of the death toll. With my luck, I'll have to fight off a rabid nundu that they'll release during the Tournament."
"That does seem like something they would do. But I might be able to help you with that."
With that, Gnarl popped away, only to return less than a minute later. In his hand, he was holding an amulet with the dragon symbol of the Potters engraved in it.
"Put this on, Master, and I will explain its use shortly."
Taking the amulet, Harry put it on and felt a magical tingle affecting his senses. Before he could ask what happened, Gnarl again popped away. But this time, he could hear something.
"Testing... one, two... Is this thing working? It's a bit grubby..."
"Gnarl, is that you?"
"Ah, it works! Yes, Master, it is me."
"How am I hearing you?"
"That amulet is connected to a mirror in Potter Castle. It allows me to see and hear what you do. This way, I can provide you with my assistance should the worst indeed come to pass. Even better, I can continue your lessons on Potter history, and wizarding etiquette, without risking discovery."
"I love magic."
"The Champion for Durmstrang is... Viktor Krum!"
At long last, the Goblet of Fire was deciding the Champions that would compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Harry was seated next to Hermione and Ron, holding his breath each time the Goblet began spouting fire into the air. The Durmstrang students cheered their champion and fellow student, as he made his way to the adjoining room, while Harry muttered under his breath "One down, two to go."
The Goblet began shooting flames again and soon came the second piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it and declared "The Champion for Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!"
The Beauxbatons students cheered for her, as she rose from her seat and made her way across the Hall, rather quickly in fact. Harry noticed that nearly every boy in the Hall was fixated on her backside. Several girls were also looking at her, but Harry could see the jealousy in their eyes.
"A Veela as Champion? That should be interesting. Careful, my lord. She might be a tasty treat, but Veela can be as vicious as any bird of prey. Best watch yourself around her Master."
Now came the moment of truth: the Hogwarts Champion. As the flames shot into the air, and Dumbledore caught the parchment that was released, Harry held his breath, praying to all the gods and saints he could think of, that he wasn't on the paper. Just once, he wanted a safe, normal year of school, where he doesn't have to expect death or dismemberment around every corner.
"The Champion for Hogwarts is... CEDRIC DIGGORY!"
The Hufflepuff table exploded into cheers, loud enough that the people of Hogsmeade could hear. But that didn't matter now. Now that the Champions were declared, he could sit back, relax, and enjoy the Tournament with his friends.
"Excellent! The three Champions have been chosen, and the Tournament is ready to begin! The First Task shall be-" Dumbledore was cut off mid-sentence by the Goblet of Fire. For the fourth time, the flames turned red, shot into the air, and a fourth piece of parchment floated down. As Dumbledore caught it, Harry's blood went cold as ice. The Hall was as silent as a tomb, as Dumbledore read out the name written on the parchment.
"Harry Potter."
Suddenly, Harry could feel every eye in the Hall upon him. Looks of confusion, jealousy, and loathing were pointed his way. When he finally recovered his senses, he said just loud enough for those closest to hear.
"Merlin, I hate being right all the time."
"Master, I don't know if this is enough to get you out of the Tournament, but reciting a magical oath should, at the very least, remove all doubts about whether you cheated to enter your name."
As he walked up to Dumbledore, at the urging of Hermione, Gnarl quickly explained how to give a magical oath. With this bit of information, he approached calmly, but his anger was clear on his face.
"Headmaster, I did not put my name in the Goblet of Fire."
"I'm afraid that may not make a difference, Harry." Dumbledore was looking at the Goblet of Fire, and waving his wand over it, slowly and deliberately.
As he did this, Harry could hear the whispers beginning, whispers of 'cheat,' and 'liar.' If he didn't do something now, he faced another year of being a pariah for something he didn't do. He couldn't allow this, especially since the teachers wouldn't actually do anything about it.
Drawing his wand, he pointed it to the sky and spoke in a clear, commanding voice. The voice of a true Lord:
"I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic and my life, that I did not put my name in the Goblet, I did not ask someone to put my name in for me, and I do not know how my name was put in. So mote it be.”
The tip of Harry's wand glowed bright white as the oath took its effect, but Harry wasn't done. He then yelled "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" and was startled by what manifested. Instead of the silver stag he expected, instead came a brilliant silver dragon, the symbol of his family. As it soared across the Great Hall, dancing through the air, he heard Gnarl speak to him.
"An impressive display, my Lord. You grow into the role of Lord Potter with each passing day."
A sigh from Dumbledore broke him out of his thoughts. "Harry, I did not doubt you were telling the truth. But because your name came out of the Goblet of Fire, even when you didn't put it in, it forms a magical contract with said individual. But come, we'll discuss this with the others. Hopefully, we can find you a way out of this."
As the other staff gave their orders to the students, that they return to their respective areas, Dumbledore led Harry to the adjoining chamber, where the other three champions waited, grouped around a fire in the centre of the room. They turned to look at their new guests, with puzzled looks on their faces.
"What is eet? Do zey want us back in ze Hall?" The Veela spoke up first, her curiosity getting the better of her first.
Before anyone could answer, Ludo Bagman came strolling into the room, excited like a kid at Christmas.
"Extraordinary! A fourth Champion, and Harry Potter at that! This is amazing. Truly, a remarkable event."
"Oh vairy funny, Meester Bagman."
"It's no joke, Miss Delacour. Harry is now the very first Fourth Champion of the Triwizard Tournament." Bagman spoke with exceeding pride, enough that Harry very much wanted to put a great deal of distance between the two of them.
Before either of them could continue, Cedric spoke up. "Harry, how did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
"I didn't."
The Veela scoffed at that, but before she could open her mouth, help came from an unexpected source.
"It's true, Mr.Diggory. Mr.Potter gave a magical oath on his magic and life before the entire Great Hall." Professor McGonagall led the other teachers, including Madame Maxime and Karakaroff into the chamber.
"And on that note, Harry, I would ask you to avoid swearing such oaths judged by magic in the future. One wrong word can have devastating consequences." Dumbledore stepped forward from wherever he had been, a large book in his hands.
"I could already hear the students whispering about me. I wasn't about to go through another year of being the 'Heir of Slytherin,' or some other pariah."
Harry spoke more curtly than he intended, but it had an effect. Cedric looked embarrassed by the memory of the entire school turning on Harry, while the teachers, minus the greasy dungeon bat, looked ashamed. To his surprise, Professor McGonagall stepped beside him.
"Albus, tell me you found a way out for Harry. Tell me he doesn't have to compete in this insanity."
Dumbledore sighed before answering. "I'm afraid not, Minerva. The Goblet of Fire forms a magically binding contract. Harry has to compete, lest he lose his magic. However, if you can find anything I might have missed..." He handed her the book in his hands, now revealed to be a book on the rules and regulations of the Tournament "... please let us know."
Taking the book in her hands, McGonagall began flipping through the pages, determined to find something that would help get Harry out of this mess. Beside her, Harry looked at the pages as best he can, but it wasn't just for his benefit.
"Wait, I think I saw something concerning the judges. Have her go back a page."
While the Headmasters began arguing over who was at fault, with Karkaroff and Maxime declaring Hogwarts could not have two champions and an angry Moody stepping in, Harry and Minerva reviewed the rules concerning the judges. While called the 'Triwizard Tournament,' nothing limited the number of schools and organizations allowed to compete. The Tournament had been created, it would seem, with the intention of allowing more than just Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang to partake.
Because of this, Harry and Minerva had found a rule that could bring him some much-needed support.
"Hold on, I think we found something that should satisfy our guests," Minerva spoke the last word with barely contained anger. Evidently, the lack of respect they had shown, and their single-minded focus on Hogwarts having two champions, rather than Harry's forced entry, was beginning to wear on her patience.
"The rules do not require Harry to represent Hogwarts. Instead, he can represent his family as the Fourth Champion of a Fourth group. The only requirement, is an additional judge be appointed to represent the House of Potter."
"So, who represents my family? I don't have any relatives left... right?"
Harry looked at Dumbledore, who now looked decidedly uncomfortable. McGonagall, likewise, appeared uncomfortable, but she pressed on.
"You have a distant cousin, named Andromeda Tonks. She works as a Healer, but I'm certain she'd be happy to represent your family as a judge."
Before anyone else could speak, Bagman piped up in his overly-cheerful way. "So, now that's taken care of, Champions, here is what you need to know..."
After receiving their instructions, the Champions returned to their Common Rooms, while Professor McGonagall went to contact Andromeda Tonks, to let her know of what had transpired tonight.
Upon returning to Gryffindor, Harry found the House had prepared a party, one in which he had been asked to explain what had happened. Relaying the earlier events, he informed his House he wouldn't be representing Hogwarts, but instead his family, the Potters. The party still went on, after all, he was still a Gryffindor, even if he wasn't competing for the school. Ron and Hermione both came and offered their support, with Hermione in a huff over the library being closed, denying her access to information regarding the Tournament.
By the time he made it to bed, he'd been exhausted, and ready for a good night's sleep. Before that, he spoke with Gnarl one last time.
"It's unlikely you were chosen by mere chance, my Lord. There is almost certainly a plot against you. Fear not though. With us, you now have access to the Potter Family Library and its Grimoire. You will not be facing this Tournament alone, or unprepared. We stand ready to support you, and you will have knowledge and power built over a thousand years. They will be no match, for you."