The Most Noble
When Harry woke the next morning, it was to the gentle buzzing of his alarm. He sat up so fast he sent pillows flying off the bed in his haste to get to his wand. It was a moment before he realized where he was and was able to make sense of the unfamiliar room. He exhaled and laughed at himself. Safe. Silly.
He still scanned the corners of the room, making sure he was truly alone. He pinched himself to ensure he was not dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time his mind conjured safety despite having anything but. This was real. He was with Sirius.
Sirius.
Harry pushed the thoughts of those long months when he was well and truly mad, out of his mind in favor of focusing on the day ahead. He freshened himself up in the bathroom, tamed his curls enough to make them tastefully wild, and went to inspect his wardrobe for the right outfit to wear today.
It would be his first appearance in the wixen world for two months. It would make a statement. It was how he would be portrayed from here on out. He found the perfect set of robes and smiled as he pulled them out. Sirius did such a good job, Harry mused.
These were a deep green and bore the crests of the Potter and Black houses on either breast, embroidered in a shining silver. The robes were made from a heavy yet pliable material. They were dueling robes. Harry noticed that many of the robes in his wardrobe were dueling sets. He smiled to himself, knowing Sirius picked these with Harry’s penchant for trouble at the forefront of his mind. He found a pair of fitted black trousers and a black shirt with silver stitching to wear under. The quality of these clothes was astounding. Harry had never owned such fine pieces. He found a pair of dragonhide boots with silver embellishments to toe the whole thing together. Finally, he fixed a dragonhide wand holster to his forearm, and swept from the room, loving the dramatic way his robes billowed as he walked.
No wonder Snape walks like he does. Harry thought with a chuckle. Harry felt good. He felt better than he had in a long time. It was incredibly freeing to wake up and not have to worry about torture or interrogation. His mind snagged on one person he was missing, but he locked those thoughts up behind high occlumency walls.
The smell of breakfast assaulted his senses as he reached the bottom landing. He found Sirius drinking tea and reading the Daily Prophet at the table. He glanced up briefly as Harry walked in, doing a double take.
“You look…” Sirius looked him up and down, trying to find the right word. “Strong,” he settled on, the smallest trace of a blush crept into his high cheekbones. Harry smiled, amused at Sirius’s reaction.
“Thanks. I was aiming for strong, among other things,” Harry laughed as he helped himself to some breakfast. “I see I made the front page,” he remarked, glancing at what he could see of the paper. Sirius scoffed.
“You did. The article is fine, exactly what Amelia sent me last night. It’s the rest of it that’s a load of rubbish. All of a sudden there are countless people reporting having seen you at some point over the last two months. Rita Skeeter is back at it again, though this time she’s targeting Fudge. To be fair he deserves it, but that Skeeter woman is a blight,” Sirius wrinkled his nose in disgust at the article.
“You can say that again,” Harry agreed.
“You also received a few letters this morning,” Sirius said, reaching across the table to hand Harry a small stack of letters. He spotted ones from his fellow Triwizard champions, the Gryffindor quidditch team, Hagrid, among others. Finally he saw one from Ron and Hermione. His stomach shifted uncomfortably as he saw their letter.
He hadn’t thought of the two Gryffindors in a long time. It started as being too painful to think of, but the pain quickly turned to anger, especially when certain facts of their friendship made their way into the light. Anger that was allowed to fester for over two years. Now he didn’t know what he would say to them when he saw them next.
“Is everything alright?” Sirius asked, eyebrows knit in concern. Harry hesitated, unsure of how much he wanted to say.
“I just, I’m not the person any of these people remember. That Harry might as well be dead, he did die, really. If they knew what I went through and what I had to do to survive, they would be disgusted. And,” Harry paused before continuing. “There’s something else, something big, that I didn’t mention last night,” Sirius’s face grew weary.
“You have to swear to not react rashly at what I’m about to tell you,” Harry insisted. At Sirius’s outraged expression he continued, “I know you’re not the same man that charged after Peter Pettigrew all those years ago, but all the same. I need you to vow that you won’t rush off to exact any sort of revenge once you hear what I have to say,” Sirius grumbled, but eventually made the necessary vow. Harry let out a breath through gritted teeth.
“Dumbledore had me under compulsions,” He said in a rush, squinting at Sirius as he watched the blood drain from the other man’s face. The room grew suddenly cold at the flare of Sirius’s magic. Harry’s own flared to life in response.
“He what?” Sirius bit out, teeth clenched. Harry winced, unsure if this was a better or worse reaction than he was anticipating.
“When I almost died because of Bellatrix, Voldemort saved my life. I don’t know how I was still alive when he found me, or even why he chose to come that day, but he found me somehow still alive. My body was dead. I had no heartbeat, but my soul hadn’t left. It was sort of like the opposite of a dementor’s kiss. All life was gone, yet somehow my stubborn soul just wouldn’t move on,” Sirius’s eyes widened at the description.
“Something was different when I next woke up. I felt like something in my chest had been loosened, like I was pounds lighter. When Voldemort next came to talk with me, he told me what he had found. I think he thought that he could use the information to get me to flip sides, or something. He told me that while restoring life to me, he had found layers upon layers of compulsions riddling my core. They were tied directly to my magic, and they had Albus Dumbledore’s signature all over them. He couldn’t be sure what their intended purpose was exactly, but I could hazard a guess,” Harry finished wistfully.
He and Sirius sat in silence for a few moments, allowing the words to sink in.
“Dumbledore just moved to the top of my hit list,” Sirius said so matter-of-factly that it startled a laugh out of Harry. “He has entirely too much power, and a continual record of abusing said power. I am sorry that he did that to you, Harry, and I am sorry that I wasn’t there to stop that from ever happening.” Sirius said somberly.
“It’s in the past now. The only thing we can do is move on. I just can’t help but wonder how much would be different without the compulsions,” Harry said thoughtfully. “The sorting hat wanted me in Slytherin, you know,” he offered. Sirius’s eyes widened in surprise.
“That’s where it wanted me too,” Sirius replied. Harry smiled sadly. “So that’s part of why you aren’t looking forward to seeing Ron and Hermione?”
“So much of our friendship was built on lies. Ron was never even a good friend to me. His jealousy led to too many fights to count,” Harry shook his head. “Not to mention the ridiculous pro-Gryffindor stance they both take, as if no one from the other houses is worth getting to know. There’s just a lot,” Harry finished with a bit of an awkward shrug. Sirius nodded in understanding.
“I understand. You’re never obligated to maintain a relationship–friendship or otherwise– that doesn’t meet your expectations, especially if it’s actively hurting you in any way,” Sirius looked down at his watch and winced. “Sorry Harry, but we’ll have to finish this conversation later. Ted should be here within the minute,”
The pair headed to Sirius’s office and waited around the floo. At exactly seven o’clock, the flames turned green and Ted Tonks emerged from the fire. Ted was a tall, broad man. He had light brown hair and kind brown eyes. His face was tanned and lined in a way that showed he spent a majority of his time smiling. Harry liked him instantly.
Sirius introduced the two and left them alone in his office, not wanting to intrude on Harry’s privacy. Harry gave Ted a brief rundown of his time in captivity, including the time difference. Ted’s eyes widened as Harry described it. Once he was done giving his history, Ted ran a series of complex diagnostics, and much to his surprise they came back clear. Sirius came back into the room so that Ted could go over his lack of findings and with nothing more to do, left through the floo. Harry and Sirius followed, stepping out of the fireplace in The Leaky Cauldron.
As the pair emerged from the fireplace, standing tall, cutting an imposing image. Harry’s dark green next to Sirius’s deep red dueling robes. Opposing sides of the same coin. Harry’s black curls with the mirror of Sirius’s dark waves. Electric green eyes next to clear blue. Harry’s strikingly scarred face in contrast to Sirius’s unmarked pallor. Both beautiful. Both dangerous.
All conversation came to a halt as all eyes fell on Harry and Sirius as they strode to the wall that would grant them entry to Diagon Alley. It wasn’t until they tapped the brick to grant them entry that the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron started talking loudly amongst themselves. Harry could hear his name, some even shouting it as if in hopes of getting his attention.
“Word will spread that we’re here,” Sirius muttered, as the wall fell away to reveal Diagon Alley. Harry grunted in response. The shopping district was just as busy as Sirius said it would be. Witches and Wizards of every shape and size were moving from storefront to storefront, Harry could see countless school aged wixen tagging along, or in large groups with their friends. Despite the threat of Voldemort at large, many seemed happy and unbothered.
Voldemort had yet to strike in the open yet, most assumed he was gathering his forces and solidifying alliances, giving a false sense of security to places that were filled with such happiness. Harry could spot a couple aurors lining the streets, however. They stood out because of their shifting eyes and too-straight posture. They did not blend in with the happy, relaxed patrons of the alley.
To Harry’s horror, and to Sirius’s delight, blown-up photos of Harry himself were plastered across the windows of several storefronts. They were photos of him in the Triwizard tournament, or playing quidditch, each proclaiming support and welcome home messages. Harry could only blame Colin Creevey, because no one else would have that many photos of him. Even more disturbing than the display of the photos was the youthfulness he exhibited in them. Harry couldn’t remember being that boy, round faced and trusting.
“It’s Harry Potter!” Someone shouted, heads turned in every direction, looking for the object of their curiosity.
“Shit,” Harry muttered. He knew he couldn’t hide from the masses forever. He needed to be seen, and needed to be seen standing tall and strong. He put on a mask of casual grace as others started to catch sight of him.
“We’ll stop if we must, but I’d prefer to do this after we’re done at Gringott’s,” Sirius whispered over the shouts of their names. Harry agreed, and gave small waves and nods as needed. They reached the steps of Gringotts before the crowd gathered too large. Harry saw a reporter with their photographer pushing through the throngs of gathered wixen just as they entered the safety of the bank.
“That was close,” Harry said under his breath, walking alongside Sirius through the Gringotts tellers. Goblins glanced up as they passed, even they were not immune to the curiosity of Harry Potter, though they were significantly less interested than Harry’s fellow wizards.
Sirius chuckled at the relief in Harry’s voice. “You’ll have to face them eventually,” he remarked.
“I’m aware, but I’d rather do it after I claim my Lordship and get my inheritance straightened out,” Harry replied, coming to a stop in front of the largest desk.
“Greetings, master goblin, I would like to request a meeting with Griphook,” Harry greeted confidently. The goblin before him studied him intently, eyes sharp and distrustful.
“And who is it that is requesting this meeting?” He asked, his voice was a growl, sharp teeth flashed menacingly as he spoke.
“Heir Harry Potter, accompanied by Lord Sirius Black,” Harry replied. The goblin’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded and disappeared through a door to their right.
He reappeared a few minutes later and instructed them to follow, Griphook would see them immediately. The goblin led them to an ornate office. It was filled with intricately worked metals, showcasing the metallurgy of the goblin race. Harry thanked him and greeted Griphook.
“Heir Potter,” the goblin inclined his head. “Lord Black, welcome, please sit down. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure,” He asked, eyes roving over Harry as if he were a particularly fine piece of goblin wrought silver.
“I need to request an inheritance test,” Harry said simply. Griphook’s eyes brightened.
“I see,” he said evenly, voice low and raspy.
“I was unaware when I first visited that it was customary for wixen to get one done upon turning eleven. It is passed time that I get mine done,” Harry explained.
“Indeed it is, Heir Potter. It is a crime to attempt to destroy one’s birthright. For Gringott’s part in that I apologize,” Griphook spoke with a sincerity that Harry didn’t know they possessed when dealing with wizards.
“You were told not to give me one,” Harry guessed. He didn’t need the confirmation of Griphook’s nod. “The fault lies not with you as long as we can rectify this oversight promptly,” Harry had blame for one man only.
“Very well, Heir Potter. All we need is your blood,” he pulled out a piece of aged parchment. Runes ran along the border, the rest was blank. “Simply allow seven drops to fall onto the parchment, the rest will occur on its own.” Harry could feel Sirius watching as he sliced his wand across his palm. He squeezed his fist over the parchment and watched seven fat drops of blood fall and absorb into the yellow surface. With a tap of his wand, he healed the cut, watching in fascination as words swirled across the parchment.
Identification
Name: Harry James Potter
Age: Seventeen Years and 29 Days
Father: James Fleamont Potter
Mother: Lily Rose Potter nee Evans
Godfather: Sirius Orion Black
Godmother: Alice Jane Longbottom
Heirships
Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter: Blood Heir, eligible for Lordship
Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell: Blood Heir, eligible for Lordship
Noble and Most Ancient House of Black: Chosen Heir, eligible for Lordship upon current Lord’s passing
Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin: Chosen Heir, eligible for Lordship
Magical Inheritances
Magic Sensing
Empath Magics
Necromantic Powers and Death Magics
Parselmagic
Soul Magics
Harry read through the parchment four times before he sat back in his chair, wordlessly handing it to Sirius for him to read through. Sirius spent several minutes studying the parchment before handing it to Griphook, who read it once, twice, and grunted. Harry didn’t know what to think as he processed the information given. He had obviously known about the first three Lordships, but the Slytherin one came as a complete shock. He almost laughed when he remembered the events of second year.
As for his magical inheritances, he knew two of them of course, but the others, Harry shook his head, lost in thought. Soul magic was almost as taboo as necromancy. Death magic was never talked about, somehow darker than necromancy itself. As for magic sensing, Harry had very little knowledge of it, but it now made sense how he could feel Sirius’s magic swirling around the room, wild with racing thoughts and emotions.
“Very well Heir Potter, Lord Black” Griphook released a long breath, studying the parchment again. “I’m guess you have questions,”
“Slytherin?” Harry and Sirius asked almost together. Harry glanced sideways to see Sirius’s lips turning up at the sides.
“I thought that would be your first question. First let me explain something about the Founder’s legacies. Each of the four evoked a very strong, very unique bit of magic when securing the future of their birthright. Only one worthy of their magic could inherit their family magic and legacy. More than that, however, there must be great need for the magic to present itself, typically in a time when the family legacy is in danger of eroding past the point of no return. It is a rare thing to be presented with a Founder’s Lordship. The last time this happened was several centuries ago when a young woman was able to claim the Ravenclaw seat,” Griphook paused and collected his thoughts before speaking again.
“The Slytherin Lordship has never presented itself before. You, should you claim it, will be the first Lord Slytherin since Salazar himself.” Harry stared blankly at the goblin.
“But that can’t be true, Tom Riddle is the Heir of Slytherin. He was able to open the Chamber of Secrets and everything,” Harry argued.
“Tom Riddle, or more commonly known as Lord Voldemort was not chosen by the family magic. He can speak parsletongue because he is a genetic descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Genetics have nothing to do with the Founder’s Lordships. For example, you, Heir Potter, are a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor, yet that Lordship is not yours to take. You could style yourself as the Heir of Gryffindor and have as much claim to that seat as Voldemort has to your Slytherin seat, which is to say none,” Griphook explained. Harry nodded along because it made sense in the way that no magic really ever did make sense.
“Voldemort would keel over if he could hear this conversation,” Harry mused, Sirius choked on a surprised laugh.
“Maybe we should call him in, just to try it,” Sirius suggested and Harry laughed heartily before turning back to Griphook.
“Alright, the rest of the Lordships make sense so no need to discuss them in great depth,” Harry nodded as he glanced at the parchment.
“You are aware of the unique magic surrounding the Peverell Lordship as well?” Griphook seemed surprised.
“Not exactly, though I suppose its conditions are the same as those needed to inherit necromantic magics?” Harry admitted. Griphook studied him closely, an appraising and respectful glint to his eyes.
“You would be correct, except in order to inherit the Lordship you must have inherited your necromantic powers prior to your seventeenth birthday. This Lordship also has not been claimed in centuries. If you don’t mind me asking, Heir Potter, on what three occasions did you meet the conditions of this inheritance?”
“The first was when I survived the killing curse when I was a baby,” Harry gestured to the branches of lightning covering half his face. “The second was when I was twelve. Ironically, it was Slytherin’s basilisk. She bit me and I was seconds away from death when Fawkes the Phoenix healed me with his tears,” Harry pulled back the right sleeve of his robe to show a circular scar about three inches in diameter. “And finally, what must have been shortly after my fifteenth birthday. Nasty cutting curse across my chest courtesy of Bellatrix Lestrange. I bled out and was as close to dead as possible before Voldemort healed me.” Harry unbuttoned his top few buttons to show the top of his scar.
“Remarkable,” Griphook’s raspy voice sounded almost breathless as he studied Harry. “You bear your scars well, Heir Potter. Even for that alone, you can always count us Goblins as allies,”
“You honor me, Griphook,” Harry inclined his head in genuine thanks. That was no light statement to make on behalf of Goblin Nation, and Harry knew that. He also knew that the only thing Giblins prized more than treasure was honor and strength in battle.
“Getting back on track then, yes, I think now it is time to discuss your magical inheritances. Your Necromantic Powers and Death Magic are from the Potter/Peverell lines. Parselmagic and Soul Magics are both from the Slytherin. Your Sensing abilities could be from any of your houses, though the most likely is actually from the least expected. If I remember correctly, your mother had this ability and was extremely powerful and adept at using it,” Harry and Sirius exchanged a surprised look.
“Lily? It’s exceedingly rare for a muggleborn wixen to have a magical inheritance, isn’t it?” Sirius asked, wonder in his voice.
Griphook nodded, “It is. One or two every few decades. I think it is safe to assume that it is from her you get that particular ability,” Warmth bloomed in Harry’s chest at having a piece of his mother’s magic with him.
“And finally, your empath magics are courtesy of the Black family magic,” Harry looked sideways at Sirius, eyebrows high. Sirius gave him a sheepish shrug. “Lord Black will be able to tell you more about these in your own time. As for learning about your other magics and how to use them, that information is generally passed through word of mouth and written word passed down through the generations.” Harry frowned.
“Fret not, young heir, you have access to all of the Potter, Peverell, and Slytherin vaults. Within each of these there are countless journals dating back centuries. Luckily for you, all of your ancestors valued organization, so the journals will be very easy to locate. I understand you have a lot to get done in a short amount of time. I can retrieve a small sample from each and you can pick them up prior to departing Diagon Alley today, if that pleases you?” Griphook offered. “You can come back over Yule to inspect each vault in person.”
As much as Harry wanted to visit his vaults, especially he Slytherin one, he knew today was not the right day for it.
“That would be excellent, thank you Griphook,” Harry nodded.
“Now then, our next order of business: the Lordships. Will you lay your claim to them today?” Griphook asked. Harry had spent a lot of time in that accursed room mulling over whether or not he would, and the pros and cons for each possibility. In the end, he realized there was only one option for him, even if it’s not what he truly wanted to do.
“I will,” Harry answered confidently. Beside him, Sirius flashed him a proud smile. Griphook smiled a pointed smile.
“A wise decision, Heir Potter. You hold great power both magically and politically. It is wise to claim your power while it can still make a difference, even if you do not yet utilize it,” Griphook snapped his long fingers and four small boxes appeared in front of him. “Your Lordship rings will come first, followed by your heirship ring. The Lordships will go in the order of Nobility. That means, Slytherin, Peverell, and finally Potter. I know that Potter is your family name, but it is the youngest house and holds the least sway compared to the others,” Harry nodded his understanding. His friend had given him countless lessons on nobility and the Wizengamot, anything to pass the time and keep some semblance of reality intact.
Griphook selected an unadorned emerald green box. He opened it and set the box on the desk in front of Harry. The box was lined with silver and nestled within was a strikingly beautiful ring. It was a silver ouroboros, light gleamed off the details of the snake’s scales. Two emeralds were set in place of its eyes, and atop the flat of the head was the Slytherin crest. The enormity of what laid in front of Harry hit him at that moment. The last person to wear this ring was Salazar Slytherin, Hogwarts Founder.
“Do you know the words, Heir?” Griphook asked gently. Harry didn’t look up, he just nodded as an otherworldly warmth filled him.
“I, Harry James Potter, do solemnly and without reservation, accept the title of Lord Slytherin, the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Salazar Slytherin. With it I accept all benefits and responsibilities herein, and do pledge to restore and uphold the honor that is befitting that of the House of Slytherin, so mote it be.” Harry didn’t register that he was speaking parseltongue until he had finished speaking.
There was a flash of green light and Harry was again filled with a resounding warmth. It was an overwhelming feeling of rightness, and Harry knew the Slytherin family magic had accepted him when another flash of light had the ring chasing its tail around Harry’s left ring finger, the finger of highest honor.
“Lord Sssslytherin, welcome home,” Harry looked down at the ring, smiling softly at it.
“It isss good to be home,” He hissed softly at the snake as it came to a rest centered on his finger, emeralds glowing.
“Well that’s handy,” Sirius commented with a smile. Harry grinned at him before turning back to Griphook who sat a small black box in front of Harry.
Inside there was a black stone etched with a triangle framing a circle and a line down the center. Harry guessed it was the Peverell coat of arms. The stone was set in a simple, yet elegant gold band.
“This ring had been missing since the last Peverell Lord died. It returned to our vaults just this summer, on what I assume was the day you fulfilled the final requirement to claim the Lordship. It had quite extensive curses, and even worse, imbued within its depth. Luckily, we at Gringotts are most adept at curse breaking, and I guarantee that it contains no more and no less than the original creator intended it to,” Griphook promised seriously. Harry could have done without the knowledge that this was a cursed ring up until a month or so ago, but nevertheless, he appreciated the transparency.
Again, Harry was filled with a warmth that prompted him with the right words:
“I, Harry James Potter, do solemnly and without reservation, accept the title of Lord Peverell, the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of The Three Brothers. With it I accept all benefits and responsibilities herein, and do pledge to uphold the honor and perform the sacred duty of this House that is mine by birthright and fate, so mote it be.” The room was cast in a momentary shadow and Harry felt as if he were submerged in a bucket of ice. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather exhilarating and made him feel alive. It disappeared as the ring settled on his right ring finger. A feeling of contentment filled him as he eyed the stone.
“Next, the Potter Lordship,” Griphook prompted, sitting a maroon box before Harry. It was lined with gold velvet and held a thick, yet elegant gold ring. The Potter family crest was engraved in the center with two diamonds on either side.
“I, Harry James Potter, do solemnly and without reservation, accept the title of Lord Potter, the Most Noble and Ancient House of my forefathers. With it I accept all benefits and responsibilities herein, and do pledge to uphold the honor and nourish the future of this House, the house of my father and his father before him, so mote it be,” Harry was enveloped in the warmth of an embrace, and the Potter ring settled on his right thumb. Harry quickly wiped a tear from his face, such was the warmth from his father’s magic.
“Finally, the Black Heirship. Lord Black, the honor is yours,” Griphook handed the black box to Sirius. Harry turned and faced him. Sirius’s blue eyes were alight with excitement. He opened the box to reveal a midnight black band inlaid with midnight blue sapphires in the shape of a constellation around the band. It was breathtaking.
“Do you, Harry James Potter, solemnly and without reservation, accept the title of Heir Black, the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Lord Sirius Orion Black?”
“I do.”
“Do you accept all benefits and responsibilities herein, and do you pledge to uphold the honor of and protect the purity of this House?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to assume the Lordship should I be unable to continue? Do you swear to learn and value the customs and traditions of this Most Noble and Most Ancient House and pass these traditions on to the next generation? If these you swear, so mote it be.” Sirius’s eyes burned into Harry’s.
“All of these I swear, so mote it be,” Sirius placed the midnight band on Harry’s left thumb while a shimmering blue light enveloped the pair. A feeling of rebirth and love enveloped Harry. Through it Sirius smiled fondly at Harry who smiled right back. Sirius pulled Harry into a hug before the pair turned back to Griphook.
“Congratulations Lord Slytherin. Tradition dictates that your highest Lordship be the one you are addressed by in formal settings, but it is otherwise entirely up to you which, or what combination, you go by,”
“Thank you, Griphook. You have been immensely helpful. Do all of my accounts have managers assigned to them?” Harry asked, running his fingers absentmindedly over his rings.
“I of course manage the Potter vaults, the Peverell and Slytherin vaults have been in stasis for some time, I’m afraid,” Griphook frowned, presumably at the thought of gold sitting uninvested.
“If you are willing, I would appreciate you taking over the management of those accounts as well. I’d like a write up of all of their holdings, as well as one for the Potter vaults. I’m much too ignorant of my own assets and it’s past time I take an active roll in my own finances.”
“I can give you some lessons, if you want Harry. That sort of thing was drilled into me growing up, estate management and investment portfolios and the like,” Sirius offered and Harry agreed easily.
“An excellent idea. I will happily take over the management of your other accounts, Lord Slytherin. I will gather summaries of all of your holdings as well as a list of suggested investments for you to pick up with your family journals,” Griphook’s quill began writing as he spoke.
“Before we part ways for the morning, I must ask, Lord Slytherin, how is it that you’ve aged two years over the course of two months?” Harry grimaced and launched into an abbreviated explanation.
Griphook’s black eyes widened as Harry spoke. “It is unheard of to use such a ritual for that long of a period. The amount of magic it took to sustain it would have been unimaginable. I can only guess Lord Voldemort used your own core to sustain it,” Griphook theorized. Harry shrugged.
“I’ve escaped now, how he did it is a little further on my list of concerns,” Harry smiled at the goblin and with that he and Sirius bade Griphook their thanks and goodbyes and made their way to the exit.
“I just want to say how proud I am of you, Harry. You never cease to amaze me. No matter what life throws at you, you’re always able to adapt. You have a remarkable amount of resilience. I know you will handle these new responsibilities with strength and grace. Even if you don’t claim your seats on the Wizengamot for several years, you will bring honor to your houses,” Sirius said quietly when they reached the double doors that would lead them outside.
“I hope I do. I know I have a lot of work to do and that I can now play a much bigger and more active roll in shaping the future, I just hope none of your faith is misplaced,” Harry replied. Sirius patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.
“It’s not. Come now, your anxious admirers await. If you don’t want them knowing about your Slytherin Lordship you should glamor that ring. Remember, there is power in information,” Harry did as Sirius suggested, and decided to include his Peverell ring as well. Anyone would be able to guess Harry had claims to two other seats, since the two rings he wore were on his thumbs rather than ring fingers, but they wouldn’t be able to tell which they were. It will surely give the wixen world something to gossip about.