Verus

Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley, Wizarding London

It was strange, entering the bank. The building was large, plastered in an ageing white and held up by slanted tuscan columns, it was also fairly hard to miss even if you weren't searching for it, easily the most eye capturing establishment around. But where you might have expected longs queues and sighing customers, you actually found a place so obviously full of life. It gave a new meaning to the term hustle and bustle.

Harry dipped his head in polite greeting as he passed by two creatures in garish uniforms, who stood guard either side of the grand entrance. They in turn, seemed suddenly perplexed but returned the gesture solemnly, which ebbed some of the remaining tension Harry felt still lingering in his shoulders from his journey into the alley.

Inside, it was like nothing he had ever seen before.

A set of bronze doors opened up to reveal an expansive chamber settled in ambient light. An impressive candelabra loomed high up above the spotless marbled floors and rough stone counters stretched along the length of the room leading off elsewhere. Goblins manned the rows, some wore spectacles whilst others had forgone the suggested suit jacket, but every single one of them appeared to be scowling in some shape or form.

Harry let his eyes wander for a brief moment. The bank was definitely a big shift from what he was used to. Back home, people- even witches and wizards- mainly bartered or haggled, exchanging poultry or grains for necessary items. If you were lucky enough to get your hands on some silver pennies then those could be used, too.

But the idea of having entire buildings to store and trade money in baffled him somewhat. So as he made his way over to the nearest counter Harry was merely thankful for Merlin and all of his lengthy lectures and teachings on the current world at hand.

He cleared his throat lightly as he sidled up, sidestepping a hovering couple, and gifted the accountant a small but genuine smile. The goblin peered back at him in retort.

"Hello." Harry started, "Is there any possibility that I could talk with my account manager at some point today? Only, I've recently returned to the isles and my first priority is to sort through my current indentures and affairs."

The goblin narrowed his beady eyes at him as he shifted in his seat and moved a hefty pile of documents to his left. There was an exaggerated pause before he finally spoke. "Name, please."

With a hollow chuckle and a wry turn of his lips, Harry eyed his surroundings closely but ultimately leant in closer in hopes not be overheard.

"Harry Potter."

The stare he was met with was almost insufferable. The goblin's cold, inscrutable eyes bored into his own, and if Harry hadn't known any better he might have believed the accountant to be attempting to wither his way past his mindscape, but the creature simply blinked before he dipped his head.

"Wand, if you please."

Harry wasn't quite quick enough to hide his grimace. The goblin raised a mocking brow.

"Well, you see, I don't actually have one." He disclosed with an awful attempt at a smile, "Or well I do, but it's in pretty bad shape, snapped clean in half on my way over, actually-"

Harry's explanation was promptly silenced by a raised hand.

"There is no need for further details." The goblin spoke decisively, "If you truly are who you say you are to be, then you should have no problems completing an inheritance test."

Harry blinked in surprise then nodded promptly. "Of course."

The accountant dipped his head curtly then proceeded to jump down from the stool behind the desk, Harry could only watch as he ambled around the first corner, a good foot and half shorter than he himself.

"This way if you please."

—

The thing about goblins, Harry quickly discovered, were that they were rather stoic creatures. Business was their upmost priority, and they had absolutely no time for any faffing about.

Since having followed the scowling accountant, or Ragnok as he had later introduced himself as, Harry had been ushered into a back office, eyed suspiciously, and told to sit in wait.

So wait he did.

But it wasn't long before the grouchy goblin returned, a pile of paperwork floating behind him.

Harry withheld a snort when Ragnok let the pile plummet onto the messy desk sat between them without a care, but didn't ask any questions.

The goblin clicked his stubby fingers a moment later and a scroll appeared out of thin air, it gracefully glided towards Harry and a lithe dagger followed shortly after.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the creature. "I can only presume that this is the inheritance test," He said, eyeing the aged scroll, "but what do I require the dagger for?"

"An inheritance test requires three drops of the givers blood." Ragnok informed him in a gruff tone, as though the answer had been obvious.

It made sense, Harry supposed. Though the dagger would not do.

With a hushed hiss, Harry enticed Helios from out of the confines of his thick robes and lifted his hand up towards the slithery creature, ignoring the sudden sharpness of Ragnok's gaze which was now trained on his familiar.

Helios slowly but surely moved to curl around Harry's wrist, tongue flicking all the while. When she reached the fatty tendon at the bottom of his palm, just below the thumb, she struck out to sink her fangs into his skin, not too deep but just far enough to draw blood. The snake withdrew quickly and with a hissed thanks, Helios burrowed back into Harry's warmth.

The first splatter darkened the yellowed parchment, but by the time the third hit, a veil of thick squiggly ink had begun to seep its way through.

Ragnok took the scroll back before Harry could make any real assessment, so instead he wordlessly healed the bite. Knowing better than to leave any of his blood just lying around.

"It would seem all is in order, Heir Potter. Though, your sudden appearance in the magical world is not the most surprising of events to apparently transpire today."

Harry frowned in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Ragnok gifted him a rare toothy grin, which was mostly more terrifying teeth than gleeful joy. "What it means, Mr Potter, is that you are going to cause quite the stir."

Before Harry could further question the being, the scroll was being passed back towards him, he struggled with it for a moment before he started to read.

His eyes skimmed across his given name, Harrison James Charlus Potter. Huh, Harry thought, for years Salazar had dubbed him Harrison, the name mainly only ever used in frustration or agitation, but he had never thought much of it.

His gaze skirted down past his parents names and their dates of births, as well as his own birthday, all the way to where a list of titles neatly sat.

Now, Harry hadn't expected much. He'd known that the Potter's were well off- he'd been using that thought to keep himself reassured of the fact that he wouldn't be walking into a mound of debt upon his arrival- but it seemed that his assets extended further than just his born bloodline.

Harry shouldn't have been all that surprised to see the founders lines there as well, but he had figured that the sentiment they had shared with him had only extended to the wards of Hogwarts. Not this! He was now an apparent scion to all four houses, but within the last century others had seemingly claimed the seats and their titles, either by conquest or through other blood relations. Harry was at least thankful for that small mercy, he merely hoped that the remaining ties linked to the four historic houses did his founders proud.

And, to only add to the matter at hand, it appeared that his supposed godfather had dobbed him in it as well, because just below the Potter title, written in an elegant scroll, was the Black. Sirius it seemed had used an old blood ritual to tie and fortify their bond not long after Harry's birth, making him the Noble House's heir apparent.

Harry pursed his lips, with all these so-called titles came a horde of vaults and properties that could've possibly housed over half of England's Wizarding population rather comfortably. Circe, who had the means to spend such horrendous amounts of money in merely one lifetime?

Though, he supposed at least one good thing had come of all of this, the small handful of Wizengamot seats he would soon inherit the moment he turned seventeen.

That, and the fact that he was presumably set for life- could probably even have a bit of fun in the next few too.

When Harry glanced back up, he found Ragnok eyeing him closely.

"Myrddin, this line here," Harry pointed out as he pressed a finger towards the final title that differed slightly from all the others, its script a scrawled bronze rather than a deft black. "What claim do I have to it? I had never even heard of it before today."

"Hm," Ragnok grunted as he peered down at the parchment over his thinly framed glasses.

"In the Wizarding World Myrddin is a deeply rooted legend- well, to all those who know nothing of the Silver Hall. It is quite a surprise to see that particular line restored though. The last wixen child to lay claim to it was," The accountant huffed out a breath before his mouth fell into a placid line and his eyes met Harry's once more, "some time in the late fifteen hundreds, I believe."

With a furrowed brow Harry tilted his head. "Is that all you know of the line? That the magical world believes it to be nothing but a fanciful tale?"

Ragnok released a barking laugh that had Harry on immediate edge, but he didn't outwardly react. No, he kept his calm and polite mask in place.

"You see, that is where you misunderstand me, Mr Potter. The story of Myrddin is one every magical being holds belief in. Witches and wizards everywhere all know the name of the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived."

"The greatest?" Harry all but gawked. "What does that mean for me?"

"It means that you are a direct descendent of Merlin himself, Mr Potter."

Well shit.

Harry couldn't help his derisive snort as he shook his head. The old tosser would have failed to mention that insipid little detail- the greatest sorcerer his arse! Harry couldn't believe Merlin hadn't laid that title on thick back home, especially when he himself had tested the wizards patience more times than he could count out of sheer boredom. But no, it seemed that this was yet another secret Merlin had left for him to solve.

"It is strange," The accountant spoke again, ignorant to Harry's thoughts, "seeing as though neither of you show any familial relation. But as always, the evidence is written in blood."

"Seems so." Harry put on a smile. "So this is all complete then, things here are finalised?"

"Almost. It's just for the Heir rings to decide now." Ragnok replied and then in walked another goblin, this one carrying a small walnut chest. "The rings shall determine the rest."

"I see." Harry commented as the chest was carefully opened, revealing three pleasantly crafted rings.

"The Heir rings to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House's Black and Potter." The accountant informed Harry, who then noted the small inhale Ragnok made as his gaze crossed to the final band sat within the chest's confines. "And this would be the Ring of Galdre. It has not been summoned in over half a dozen centuries. Not many have even heard it described."

"Galdre, descended from its noun galdor, meaning magic song if I'm not mistaken." Harry thought aloud as he examined the intricate band as well as its green gemmed centre, he was quite sure that he'd seen it somewhere before.

"You recognise Old English quite well." Ragnok retorted and he made it sound like an accusation rather than a mere fact. The goblin was quiet for a moment before he indulged Harry a little further, "The word holds many meanings, they used it once to define all wixen- enchanters, sorcerers, soothsayers. It coincided with many other of the languages terms to describe the art of incantation itself. It is seen in many ancient Nynorsk and Norse texts also."

Harry hummed quietly under his breath and reached a hand out to take the ancient ring, pinching it between his forefinger and thumb.

"The gold is rather delicate." Squeaked a voice that had Harry's head turning towards the goblin who had previously entered holding the chest. The creature was thiner than most but did not deter even with the glare Ragnok pinned on her for piping up.

"Zudy." The accountant reprimanded and the goblin in question cowered slightly.

"Really?" Harry questioned, drawing back the rooms attention, his focus on her.

The goblin, Zudy, blinked in surprise before her features flattened. She nodded just the once. "It is of Welsh origin, scarce in this age."

Harry tucked that piece of information away for later and gifted her a small smile.

Ragnok cleared his throat. "Yes, Zudy caters to many of the more ancient artefacts the bank holds. The Ring of Galdre has been tucked away for centuries, hasn't seen the daylight since its last owner was vanquished." He turned his slitted eyes towards the other goblin. "That will be all, Zudy."

Zudy didn't look too happy to be parting on that note but with one final glance towards the ring, she straightened up and took her leave. Harry watched the door fall close behind her.

"Now, Mr Potter, shall we see about fitting those rings?" Ragnok grinned.

—

Well, never let it be said that goblins didn't get shit done.

Fifteen minutes and one handy little pouch later, Harry was on his way out of Gringotts, all three rings fitted onto his left hand. The two heir rings had moulded into one on his littlest finger fairly easily whilst Merlin's had taken up residence on his middle, it was the warmest of the three and strangely seemed to recognise him, which felt somewhat odd and left him slightly puzzled.

But in the end, Harry decided that there were worse things that could have happened, had the rings not recognised him as a descendent, much less an heir at all, there could have been the loss of his fingers altogether. He briefly recalled having heard an old wives tale, which had travelled throughout the castle halls a few years prior, about a village apprentice who had tried to claim title to his masters lordship a few weeks after the man's untimely death. It had apparently resulted in the sudden combustion of one of the apprentice's eyeballs, only the pressure hadn't killed him, merely left him blind and hollowed in one eye.

Harry grimaced at the vision his mind procured and immediately swatted away the train of thought. He needn't worry about any of that now, not when he had a list of tasks to complete before the days end. Like procuring a new wand for starters, and finding somewhere to settle down until September rolled around.

He proceeded down the bank's steps and found that the crowd from the rally earlier had lessened somewhat, now there were just groups dotted throughout the square. Harry observed them, as well as the remaining patrons of the alley who were simply just there to shop or converse amongst one another.

As he walked he listened in here and there, picking up tidbits of knowledge. Many of the political crowd were male, he noted, but there were a fair few women present which surprised Harry greatly, but in the best way possible. Back home, women had always been deemed lesser mainly for simply being just that, women. Though the founders had really tried to rid the stigma which surrounded and plagued young girls within their castle walls.

The alley was rather a joyous place to spend the day he found, with the shops being so welcomingly vibrant and the streets full of bustling passersby. Though, Harry found one thing rather odd. To the very far left of the parade of stores there seemed to be something of a shadow. It was a looming thing, its presence exceedingly obvious and unnerving, but the only mind people seemed to pay to it was the quickening of their pace as they scurried on by.

Harry frowned, but being so immersed in his detailings of the darkened side-street he accidentally shouldered into another wizard stood leant against a nearby lamppost. The wizard, a young man of a similar age, appeared to have dropped the book he'd been rather immersed in, and so immediately Harry ducked down to pick it up with an apology already on his lips, he regarded the cover fleetingly.

"Oh, Fyrirboði Dauðans. A brilliant read!" Harry couldn't help but comment, showing his appreciation for the book with a fond smile.

In the time it took for him to reclaim his novel, the boy had scrutinised him under a careful glare and Harry quickly remembered himself. He'd been here all of five minutes and had already forgotten his manners- Helga would have his hide.

"I do also apologise for the intrusion, something appeared to have caught my eye and I lost my footing for a moment there. I hope no harm came to yourself or to your book, Sveinsson is a favourite author of mine."

The wizard cocked a brow at him but that was the only tell he gave, Harry guessed that he had to have been a child of high society standing from the way he masked his emotions so well.

Tucking the book under his arm, the boy drew himself up to his full height. Harry expected him to make a scene or ignore him entirely, but the other wizard only proved to surprise him.

"I don't suppose you've gotten aquatinted with any of his earlier workings?" He asked with an inquisitive air.

"I have actually, his journals mainly. His claims of having met Hel herself were baffling but incredibly intriguing, I poured over the diaries for months." Harry conversed easily enough, letting some of the sincerity he felt seep into his voice.

The boy blinked at him once before he ducked his chin down slightly, "Did you say diaries- as in multiple? I've only ever heard of there being two of which were still legible. The others lost to a fire started after Sveinsson had been incarcerated by the muggles for treason against faith."

"Ah, yes, well magic's a funny thing." Was all Harry was able to give away, unable to mention that the author had actually been an old acquaintance of Sal's. He brushed at his outer robes nonchalantly whilst the other wizard eyed his smirk suspiciously before one of his own tugged at the corners of his lips.

The boy then went on to say something else but the two of them were quickly pulled from their conversation. It appeared that some of the surrounding mass had begun to buzz. Harry glanced over his shoulder to see what was amiss and simultaneously met the eyes of an icy blue.

Through the horde of people walked a tall regal man, the very same from earlier Harry was quick to recognise, who had created the large applause during the political rally. His eyes were sharp and full of conviction, and although he was not overly muscular or particularly threatening, there was something about his being that had Harry's mind racing to work him out.

The man nodded politely at those who greeted him, praising him for his speech and political opinions, and gifted a rare few a disarmingly charming smile, but his gaze never strayed once from Harry's own. Harry could only watch on as this stranger fast approached, his eyes enticing, unreadable. Their locked gaze started to feel as though they were creating a rippling tear in the world which surrounded them, pulling and pulling...

Beyond puzzled, Harry could only turn with the politician as he passed them by, but even without conveying it Harry felt the man to be equally as confused as he was by the strange occurrence which was transpiring between them.

Suddenly, he blinked and the tether between them broke, Harry all but felt the non-existent string which had seemingly tied them snap and reel back. He swallowed thickly as the sensation hit him square in the chest and could only let his gaze linger on the back of the man's neck as the stranger was swept up by the oncoming crowd.

Harry was startled slightly by the sudden sound of his companion's voice then and his attention immediately darted back to the other wizard he'd momentarily forgotten about.

"Lord Sayre," The boy informed him lowly, "He's first in the running for Minister. There's a lot of talk being spread about him amongst the ministries inner circles, it seems as though he has a lot of legislators on side as well as a few of the other Lords within the Wizengamot court."

Harry's eyes wandered over to where the man had since disappeared and hummed, filing the comment away to examine at a later date. It was just as he had found the strength to reply that the other boy was then startled by the ringing of a large chime which echoed out above them.

"Shit! Is that the time? My father will cut off my wand arm if I'm not-"

"Theodore."

The young wizard promptly cut himself off and Harry observed the way his entire persona shifted as the two of them were approached by an older looking gent who walked with a cane. He was every inch the tightlipped pureblood Harry had pictured; dignified in his stance, his hair perfectly cut but greying, dressed impeccably from the winged collar down to his dragonhide brogues. He spared Harry a single glance and tilted his chin up in acknowledgement, refined but courteous enough.

"You were supposed to have met me outside of the apparition point at a quarter past as instructed. It is now almost twenty to."

"Sorry, Father, my mistake. I got waylaid." The boy, Theodore, replied, his shoulders tense beneath the fallen hood of his cloak. Though even with his apology, the boy's father didn't appear too happy.

"It was my fault, sir." Harry felt the need to step in, "I apologise for having kept you waiting, it seems that my love of literature kept your son later than expected. It really is hard to stop me once I've started."

Harry mustered up his most charming smile, feigning the pureblooded heir hidden within as he faced the older wizard.

The man scrutinised him, much like his son had, but Harry didn't let this deter him and kept his gaze strong.

"I don't believe we've been introduced." The man said, "You attend Hogwarts with my son?"

Harry shook his head and put on a likeable smile, "I'm afraid not, we only met today, though I will be starting at the school this coming September."

Theodore quirked a surprised brow from beside his father, but it was the latter who replied, eyeing Harry's build and tailored attire.

"A seventh year, I presume?"

"You would be correct, sir."

The stoic gent hummed, both hands on the head of his cane, "A little late to be joining."

Harry flashed him a small but agreeable grin, noting how the elder rather avoided asking questions outright, perhaps used to garnering the information he wanted in the details offered to him instead. "It is, though I'm quite excited to experience it all. I've heard a lot of great things about the school in passing, though not much about the education offered there, brief snippets really."

The wizard pursed his lips but Harry was rather unsure as to how the man had reacted to his subtle sidestepping. He wanted to keep as much of the truth to himself as he could. Lying was all in the minor details, one simple slip up and everything could go awry.

When Harry shifted slightly he found Theodore to be examining him rather closely and caught a plethora of questions already swimming in the boys cutting eyes. Harry knew that he'd have to make a hasty departure if he was to keep these two from their own over-curious nature, but didn't want to come across as deceitful or insincere. If he wanted to keep his options open and play the board, then having this father and son duo on future side could potentially aid him or set him further apart.

Thankfully, Harry's escape came in the form of a snooty looking gentleman who gifted the older wizard stood with him a faux smile and himself a haughty look. He was older yes, but not as old as the previous wizard who seemed to have a decade or two on the latter, his hair was a crisp blond almost as white as snow, and had been fitted in the finest of silks.

"Lord Nott, always good to see you at these kind of events." The snobbish man addressed which sent Harry's mind racing.

Nott... Nott. As in the Nott's of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he recalled as he mentally catalogued through each of Merlin's alternate history lessons. They were a rather powerful and ancient House, largely allied to the dark, and one of the seventeen Roman magical houses which had relocated to Wizarding Britain just after the fall of Rome. Their once large family had dwindled quickly over the last few centuries though, leaving only- Harry's eyes flickered between both the father and the son. Tiberius and young Theo, it would seem.

He'd been correct in not wanting to blunder this encounter.

"Lucius," Lord Nott met, Theodore followed his father's example and welcomed the blond man with a courteous nod. "Lord Malfoy."

Hm, Malfoy. Another ancient House. The fates were really trying his luck, and on today of all days.

"Theodore, how was your time abroad?" Lucius quizzed, looking vaguely intrigued, "Draco mentioned your stay in Norway early this summer."

"Good, sir, I was grateful for the time away." Theo replied. Lord Malfoy raised a sharp suggestive brow and only then did Theodore seem to realise that he'd made some kind of mistake.

"Is that so?"

His father calmly stepped in to rescue him much to Harry's surprise, "Very grateful, he has spoke of nothing else but the vast amounts of knowledge he acclaimed during his stay there. Isn't that right, Theodore."

The boy in question nodded smoothly but Harry caught the slight bob of his throat.

"Norway is rather beautiful this time of year, did you happen to pick up any of the language?" Harry intervened, gaining a rueful glower from the Malfoy man for his unwanted interruption.

Lord Nott though, seemed to be almost appraising him with a newfound awareness. He watched on.

Theo nodded a collected agreement, "Though not as much as I'd have loved to, the dialect is rather beautiful."

Harry couldn't disagree.

"A friend of yours, Theo?" Mr Malfoy chimed in, his question directed towards the other boy but his gaze stuck on Harry.

Harry was the one to reply though, effortlessly. "A new acquaintance, one who must be on his way actually."

He pivoted towards the two dark haired wizards with a charming smile, "Lord Nott, a pleasure, and Theodore, thank you for the conversation. I hope to see you at the start of next term."

Harry bowed his head slightly at the two, and then once more in a polite but necessary gesture towards Lord Malfoy, then before either of the trio could think to interrupt his parting, Harry swiftly ducked away into the crowd.

He breathed a small sigh of relief as the masses swept him up, thankful for the fact that he'd managed to escape without having let his name slip or arising any obvious suspicion. He veered his way to the left and dusted down his robes, taking a moment to ground himself.

Now, to find a wand it seemed.