Inheritance
Fire. That’s the best way to describe Harry’s morning.
Warmth washed over him, and for the first time in years, he awoke without a chill.
The way his heart beat out of his chest and his mind raced faster than light was uncontrollable.
His cheeks were bright red, like the brightest of flames.
And here he awoke, snuggled up to Draco Malfoy.
How had he even ended up in his bed? How did Harry even end up in his bed? The day was blurry at best.
He carefully removed Draco’s arm from his waist. A cold front swept through the area. Harry sighed; he would miss the warmth. There was a stinging ache in his heart as he drew away. Like frostbite blossoming from the inside out.
Harry distracted himself with a bath. He slipped into the hot water to try to defrost his soul. It barely soothed him, but it was enough to make him content. He cringed at the little flakes of scabs that rose up in the water and the red swirls that rose from the cracks in his skin. He couldn’t do much; he wasn’t allowed to scrub his wounds.
The now pink-tinged water poured down the drain. Harry hummed; the water softened his wounds, and he could walk around a little easier. A fluffy white robe wrapped around his body.
Draco was still in his bed. But he was whimpering, curled up in on himself. A pang of sympathy stabbed through him. Asshole though he may be, Harry just couldn’t sit there and watch.
He slid next to Draco. He placed a hand on Draco’s quivering shoulder and gently shook them.
“Draco?” Harry called softly. He shook a bit harder, placing Draco on his back.
Tears were lightly leaking from the corners of Draco’s eyes. He sniffed, another whimper escaping his rose-coloured lips. Harry used his sleeve to brush away his tears.
Draco slowly opened his bloodshot eyes. His reddened eyes looked up at Harry, grey locking with green.
“P-Potter?” Draco said in alarm.
“Are you okay?” Harry forced out all of his sympathy. Draco blinked at him.
“Shouldn’t I be asking that? You collapsed during dinner.” Draco scratched his neck as he sat up. Harry observed the rapid rise and fall of Draco’s chest with interest.
“I did?”
“Yes, had to carry you back.” Draco grumbled, his eyes wandering around the room rather than looking at Harry.
“And you were so tired you just decided to sleep?” Harry asked playfully. Draco scowled.
“You wouldn’t let go of me. And I’m not replacing a shirt because you were clingy.” Draco swung his legs over the bed and stood. “Come, breakfast should be ready soon.”
Harry nodded and followed Draco out of the room. He tried not to think, but he couldn’t. His thoughts were conflicted.
He liked cuddling Draco. He felt at peace, with some of the best sleep of his life, and it filled the hole in his heart. It was nice to wake up next to someone. But there was also another part of him that was disgusted by it.
This was Draco Malfoy. Death Eater in the making. An arrogant, snobbish brat who would sooner drown Harry than help him with homework. A staunch racist who hurled slurs at Hermione, his closest friend.
But he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his chest. The stubborn, constant longing for him. Sure, it flared up from time to time at school, but now he was sure it would be a constant. Just a part of his life he would have to accept.
It hurt to come to terms with it.
But it needed to be done. They would walk away from this event and go back to normal. Back to passively hating and ignoring each other's presence. Back to being enemies.
It made him ache.
But he pushed down those confusing feelings.
Lucius and Narcissa were already seated, waiting for them, when they arrived. Harry glanced at the clock. 7:10.
7:10?
He really did sleep in.
“Sleep well?” Narcissa asked with a wink.
“Very,” Harry yawned.
“Sure,” Draco replied.
She hummed, beckoning them over. Breakfast was as grand as ever—how does one even carve designs into eggs? Harry ate ravenously. He was practically starving.
“Harry,” Narcissa addressed him, “Now, I know yesterday was a bit much for you. I have cancelled fencing and dancing for the next week to better deal with your healing. I should have done that in the first place. Today, you will just have mind-healing, and then we will go to Gringotts for a few tests, okay?”
“M’kay,” Harry muttered into his cup of tea.
No dancing or fencing for a week? His day was just getting better and better.
_____
They went to an office for mind-healing. He wasn’t sure where they were, but it overlooked a lightly splashing ocean. His mind-healer was a very plain woman. Medium-length brown hair; average height; neutral-coloured clothes.
He sat across from her on a short blue sofa. He stared at her as she waved Narcissa out of the room.
“Have you ever been to a mind-healer before?” She asked, summoning a scroll and quill.
“No.” Harry tried to read the expression on her face, but it was perfectly blank.
“Well, we mind-healers can heal afflictions in your mind. Some afflictions can be undone with a simple spell or potion. Others… require more time and patience to handle.”
Great.
“Some scars on the psyche I can see, can I perform a spell on you? It would let me see some of the scars.”
Harry nodded.
It felt weird to have someone digging around in his brain. It felt like his brain was just a ball of wires, and someone would tug on them, some untangling, some tightening their knots. Then it stopped.
“I can… see we will be seeing each other for a while. Let’s start with what you think and feel, okay?” She tapped her clipboard. “What do you feel like you are struggling with?”
Harry stayed silent for a moment. What did he struggle with?
“It seems like every year someone tries to kill me.” Harry said, finally. It was his biggest struggle.
The mind-healer wrote it down on her parchment. “And how do you handle those? After the events, what do you do to soothe yourself?”
Harry blinked.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Do you do anything to soothe yourself after these events?” The question didn’t make it any clearer.
“No? I just move on.”
Sure, he often cried about the events and had nightmares of them nearly every night, but there was nothing he could do. He can’t go back in time and save them. Can’t undo time.
“Hm,” She scribbled down a note. “I believe we have a starting point.”
_____
Harry wiped his reddened eyes as he walked out of the mind-healer's office. He turned away from Narcissa as she approached him. But he knew that she saw.
But Narcissa said nothing as she took his arm.
“We’re going to Gringotts for the tests. Hold on tight.” She spoke softly.
The world melted around him. His stomach tossed and turned as he felt himself land on the hard floor. Narcissa steadied him, keeping him from falling on his face.
“Are you fine to walk?” She asked, placing a hand on his back.
“Yeah, yeah.” Harry brushed her off. The world was still spinning, but he was steady enough.
They walked from the small hall they were in to the main Gringotts hall. Goblins worked at the desks, and Narcissa beelined for a certain goblin with a red cap.
“Narcissa Malfoy, appointment with Irontooth for testing.” She spoke clearly.
The goblin looked at her with a slight scowl on his face, but nodded.
“Follow me.”
They were led through many twisting and turning halls. Some hallways went straight for a long stretch, while others were little more than a few steps before they forked. Eventually, they abruptly stopped in front of a door with Irontooth engraved on the door.
The goblin let them into the office before slamming the door shut.
The office reminded him of Malfoy Manor. Gold and silver were plastered everywhere, from the candle holders to the edges of the large desk. Many tapestries decorated the walls with depictions of bloody battles on them.
Harry and Narcissa sat in plush leather chairs. He mindlessly cracked his knuckles. How did they perform the tests? The way Narcissa spoke made it seem like it wasn’t as simple as just getting some files. He just hoped it didn’t hurt.
Minutes later, an ancient-looking goblin entered the room. Ragged scars covered almost every scrap of flesh. Countless badges and shiny metals adorned his suit jacket.
“Lady Malfoy,” Irontooth said, almost enderingly, “Mr Potter, you are here for tests, correct?”
“Yes,” Narcissa said, “Bloodline, inheritance, and health—I can provide the ritual knife. Unless there is anything else you would recommend?”
Harry looked at Narcissa sceptically. She didn’t seem like a person to ask for a second opinion.
“Hm, let’s see the results of the three, then go from there.” Irontooth sat in his chair, and it raised up till he was almost eye level with them.
"Of course," Narcissa said, nodding.
She placed a shiny black knife on the table. The handle looked pokey, with a bunch of spikes jutting out from all angles.
Irontooth shuffled through a desk drawer and pulled out three sheets of parchment. He placed them in front of Harry. The first had "Bloodline"written across the top in black ink, with the rest following the other two.
“Place seven drops of blood on each of these parchments using the ritual knife.” Irontooth instructed.
Great, he was going to lose more blood.
“If you do not want to, I can cut it for you.” Narcissa offered.
“No, I’m fine.” Harry reassured her.
The tip of the knife dug into Harry’s wrist. Blood leaked from it much faster than normal. He quickly hovered his wrist over the parchment and used his other hand to keep more blood from dripping on the parchment.
By the end, he was cradling some blood in his hand.
“Oh, dear.” Narcissa whipped out a handkerchief and dried his hands of blood. She partially healed his wrist, so that blood only beaded on the surface; an apologetic look was on her face. “Just in case we need more blood.”
“It’s fine.” He was honestly a bit alarmed at how much he bled. He didn't think he'd gone that deep.
Irontooth poured three separate potions on the parchemnts, seven drops each. At the seventh drop, the blood swirled, forming lines and words across the entire page. Harry watched as each parchment grew longer and longer, two stretching to the floor.
“Let’s start with the bloodline one first.” Irontooth tapped the first one.
He saw his entire family tree all the way back to the “first drop of magic” that went back dozens of generations. It was a little disgusting; he recognised almost every surname on the parchment, and he shared 2nd and onward cousins with more than half of the wizarding world.
Godric Gryffindor was in his line.
But his most surprising side was his mom’s side. It didn’t begin with her; it stretched farther back than the Potter line. There were many grey lines -- muggles -- between them, but it occasionally popped up with a magical. But she was from magic; there was a huge block at the beginning, then, nothing.
“Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff?” Harry was perplexed. They were both connected to an Merideth, a gray-green line.
“Ah, another one.” Irontooth laughed, his gravely voice almost grating. "You see, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff named an heiress post-mortem. That heiress grew up to be a squib and was cast out into muggle society. Your mother is one of the available heiresses of the line, which passes down to you.”
“One of?” Harry was even more confused.
“The founders, as many houses have, didn’t want their house to just be ruled by birth order. They must complete a task, often a display of the house’s values. There are dozens of people who can claim this heirship; many do not know, but those who do try their hardest to complete the task.” Irontooth explained. He wrote on a scrap of parchment and snapped, it disappearing.
“I know of a family, I think.” Harry couldn’t quite remember his name, but he remembered him gloating about being the heir Hufflepuff, even if he didn’t have the heir ring.
“I will send for the rings, and then you will learn the task.” Irontooth shook his head. “Very difficult, from what I’ve grasped. No one’s earned them for the past two hundred years.”
Harry gulped.
“While we wait for that, let’s look at your inheritances.” He pulled shorter of the long parchements in to him. Harry’s stomach twisted - that meant the longest was his health test.
The list was mostly made up of properties, vaults, and shares in stock. So much more than was in the guardianship documents—many, many more. There was almost a sense of dread at the sheer number of things he would have to manage.
“Now, while we can go into your estate first, I would recommend handling the titles first.” He tapped the first line of the parchment.
Title(s)
Heir to Gryffindor - 29 May, 1993
Heir to Potter - 31 July 1980
Primary Heir to Slytherin - 31 October 1981, 1 July 1996
Secondary Heir to Black - 1 August 1980
Potential Heir to Ravenclaw
Potential Heir to Hufflepuff
Harry’s mind was racing. Dates? What do the dates mean? Why were there two in Slytherin? Why did he have the Black heirship? Secondary?
“You look a bit overwhelmed.” Irontooth said. Narcissa lightly rubbed his back. “Would you like this explained?”
"Tell it to me like I'm five." Harry said, exasperated.
“There are three different lines to a Lordship. First, is the primary heirship, which is the first in line for Lordship. Second and third are after that. There is no current Lord of Gryffindor nor Potter, so you will be eligible for Lordship as soon as you reach your majority.”
“For Slytherin, the Lord is still alive, so you are still the first in line, but you will not be able to take the Lordship unless the Lord steps down. You are a secondary heir to the Black through your godfather, who named you his heir after your birth.”
“But he— “
"Was not magically disowned. He is still the heir. Now, let's move on. You are a potential heir to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff because you have not completed your tasks.”
“The dates next to the titles signify when you earned the titles. For non-sequential lines, like the founders, you can “win” the titles multiple times in case another person becomes more fitting to be an heir. You’ve earned the Slytherin title twice; if anyone else has a claim to Slytherin, they would need to earn it three times to take the heirship.”
Harry’s stomach dropped when he realised why he had earned the Slytherin heirship.
Harry nodded slowly. “I kind of get it.”
“It can be a lot. I will send you with a packet. Now, looking over your vaults, I would recommend using a transaction test instead of going through each one individually. The transaction test would give you the transactions from the day you inherited them to now.” Irontooth re-shuffled through his drawer and pulled out another parchment and potion.
“Won’t be too long,” Harry muttered. He only took out money for school.
"It's a precautionary measure." Seven drops of blood.”
Harry squeezed his cut until seven drops were on the parchment. His eyes widened in alarm as the parchment grew until it sat in his lap.
“What?” He spat.
“I take it you were unaware of these transactions?” Irontooth looked downright pissed.
“No.”
200 galleons, monthly, Order of the Phoenix fund
50 galleons monthly, muggle bank, Vernon Dursley
100 galleons, monthly, Albus Dumbledore
100 galleons, monthly, Potter Scholarship fund
There were many more transactions that weren’t scheduled. Fifty here, a hundred there—a whopping 500 galleons to the Order directly after they started back up.
“Well, Mr Potter. All of these transactions should have been passed through you. Magical vaults are only controlled by magical people; your muggle relatives wouldn’t have been able to do any of this. I take it you would like to file an investigation into your finances?” Irontooth asked, his claws scraping against his desk.
“Yes, yes, I would. Could I stop the first three? And what’s the Potter Scholarship fund?” Harry gritted his teeth. He needed to focus on something else.
"Your ancestor Charles Potter established the Potter scholarship fund. Students who wanted financial assistance to attend Hogwarts could apply for it, and Lord Potter would award them based upon a mathematical equation and add additional funds at his transgression. It has not been active since you acquired it.”
“Can I activate it again? What would I have to do?” Harry needed to turn his brain toward better matters. Like this.
“I will run the paperwork. I’m not certain you can while you’re a minor, but I know you can when you take the Lordship.” Ironclaw scribbled on another parchment and snapped again; the parchment disappeared.
“Okay, thank you.” Harry forced out his appreciation through his anger.
“It is my job, Mr Potter. I recommend a separate visit after this is sorted out to work through your estate. Will we move onto your health test next?” Ironclaw eyed the long parchment that stretched to the floor.
“Yes,” He said reluctantly.
He only glanced at the parchment. He knew what was on it and didn’t want to relive it. Ironclaw took a longer time to read it, a furious expression on his face. Narcissa simply stared straight ahead.
“I would recommend seeing a healer. I would also recommend you apply for a goblin healer at Gringotts. I do not want to get your hopes up, but I do not see why you would not be accepted.” Irontooth’s voice was sympathetic and slow.
“Goblin healer? What’s the difference?” Harry sighed. He was so lost.
“Wixen are barred from certain rituals and potions because they are considered “dark” due to some of the ingredients used. As Gringotts works as a separate government from Wixen society, those rules do not apply to us.” Irontooth smirked.
“They work well at their craft.” Narcissa spoke up.
“Can I pass this on to you… Narcissa?” He wasn’t sure if they were on a first-name basis, but he wasn’t exactly sure what to call her.
Narcissa perked up. “Of course. I've worked with goblin healers before; we could devise a better healing strategy together."
Irontooth grumbled, though it wasn’t negative-sounding. “Ah, yes, I remember seeing you. You’ll know if you’re accepted into the healing program by tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Harry muttered.
“I will send a copy of these results, if that is okay?” Harry hated how Irontooth’s voice changed. He didn’t need his pity.
“Okay.”
Then a knock sounded at the door. A short goblin, young looking, entered with a large black box. He sat the box on the edge of Irontooth’s desk and scampered off quickly.
“New assistant,” Irontooth explained.
He rotated the box to face Harry. He opened the lid, and six boxes lay there. The crest of each of his heirships lay on the front of them.
“Your heirship rings. Their magic will accept you, reject you, or give you a task.” He pushed the box closer to him.
Harry found his hands shaking as he grasped the Potter box. He flipped the lid, and a gaudy golden ring with a white stone in the middle lay inside. A tiny crest was engraved in the centre and inlaid with more gold.
“Place the ring on any finger,” Irontooth instructed.
Harry placed the ring on his index finger. In an instant, he felt a warmth envelope him. There was the growl of a wolf in his ears that caused him to jump. But he felt so much stronger, as if magic had given him muscle.
“That is acceptance.” Irontooth nodded. “You can place the other ones on the same finger; they will meld together.”
The next was Gryffindor. Similarly ostentatious, but with a ruby in the centre. The warmth was more like a fire, and a lion’s roar blared in his ears. He gasped in pain as he felt like something ripped at his wrist. There was a mark, as if it had been a dark birthmark, of a lion’s bite.
He approached the Slytherin one, black with an emerald snake wrapping around it, with caution. But he placed it on his hand nonetheless. Coldness crept through his veins, but in a comforting, fall-day way. A hissing, words that he couldn’t quite grasp lingered in his ears. Pain flared again in his other wrist. Another dark birthmark, this time of two holes like a snake bite.
The Black was similarly cold and had the cry of a raven. No pain, luckily, followed. That one was pure black with blue sapphires around the ring and a large one in the centre.
“Now, for the next two, they will challenge you. They are different than the heirship or lordship rings.” Irontooth looked at him with a gleam in his eyes.
Harry took the Hufflepuff one first. Maybe this one wouldn’t hurt. He thumbed the thin gold band with obsidian swirls.
A young child seeks my title.
What? It wasn’t a whisper; it was like it was coming from inside his head.
For the title to be earned, you must display a true Hufflepuff’s qualities. You must do a selfless act that weeps with kindness. Your heart must be pure to earn it.
Harry seemed to snap back to reality. That ring didn’t mesh like the others, but rested on the bottom of the combined ring, closest to his palm.
“An act of selfless kindness.” Harry muttered. What did that even mean?
He moved on to the Ravenclaw one. It was similar to the Hufflepuff ring, but made of bronze and sapphires.
A young child seeks my title.
Again, in his head.
For the title to be earned, you must display a true Ravenclaw’s qualities. You must gain the knowledge that is most hidden and accept it as a part of yourself. A new branch on the tree of magic. Your heart must be pure to earn it.
“Knowledge most hidden.” He thought to himself.
Did he seriously have to invent an entire branch of magic to earn the heirship? If he didn't get them, Harry was perfectly content.
“I don’t mean to discourage you, but people have worked a lifetime to complete these and have failed.” Irontooth lamented.
Harry sighed. “I won’t earn them. And that’s okay with me; I already have enough heirships.”
Irontooth gave him a toothy grin, revealing iron-plated teeth.
“I understand we went over a lot today. I would recommend we schedule another meeting in a week to give us both time to process everything.” Irontooth tapped the parchments, and duplicates appeared in the air. He filed them away.
Harry’s brain was almost exploding when he was back at Malfoy Manor. He was tired, drained, and frankly, about to pass out again. But Narcissa stopped him on his way to his room.
“I noticed you have basilisk venom in your blood. My apologies; I was using a salve that interferes with your blood consistency and healing. I will be at your room to change your bandages momentarily.”
Great, now he’d have to strip again.
Harry sighed.
Why him?