Chapter Text
Alex was annoyed as he sat at his desk, glaring at the books that seemed to loom over him. These were the assignments he procrastinated working on, especially since these classes were unimportant to his mind. Additionally, Ron hadn’t written and Hermione’s vacation was better than his; he sulked. It didn’t help that three days after he returned from the trip, his mom checked over his Charms essay.
“Alex, you told me, you fixed this,” she had said, “Listen, put what I wrote down on the parts I marked in red. That will correct it,”
With a grumble, he had obliged even though he thought he was right. He had proved himself the Boy-Who-Lived and Light’s Chosen; he seethed, he really didn’t need these classes. However, this was one thing his parents refused to move on which was completing all his assignments. His Potions essay which he had lingered on, did pass his parents’ muster, so that was done. Now, he glared at the books, he had to finish the rest of his homework.
Since he was taking Latin in third year, his assignment was to write four sentences all in Latin describing a season of the year and conjugating four verbs in addition to translating three quotes. While not very long, it meant that the assignment was challenging and forced him to rummage around for his previous schoolbooks as well as his notes for the class. His parents requested that he finish another assignment today before he could go practice quidditch drills. He rejected Herbology, choosing the Astronomy assignment as it was reasonably easy. Yet when he pulled out the worksheet, he was angered to see a second part which had several questions to be answered by use of formulas.
“Math?” he almost yelled, seething as Math was his least favorite course. If not for the new requirements for Auror that included Arithmancy, he would never have taken the class. Astronomy was supposed to be easy not full of math equations.
His memory was being selective given he failed the last few quizzes that tested the formulas introduced in the last semester. He even barely passed his final test for the year with an Acceptable. Yet he ignored these facts as he stared at the personally offensive part of the assignment. With a put-upon sigh, Alex decided to just finish the first part, which involved his choice of a constellation from 12 Greek Zodiac, deciding to use the constellation Leo since it was his birth sign. Once that was done, he stared at the rest of his work. There was Math (ugh), English which was reading ‘The Wind in the Willows’ and analyzing one of the characters (double ugh), Herbology (he still hadn’t gone looking for plants), and History. Remus did give him a nice topic, which was Dumbledore’s battle against Grindelwald and destruction of the Storm Wizards. That several escaped justice to cause problems in the Far East, also escaped him and the rest of the class since Remus barely paid lip service to the ICW requirements, choosing not to address Dumbledore’s failures. That and a crowd of Gryffindors were not inclined to think ill of one of their best so it is likely no one would have paid attention to that fact anyway.
Well, it was better than Astronomy, so Alex started on History; thinking longingly of his broom as he scribbled some notes down from Bagshot’s book and one published by the MACUSA in 1948 now out of print (and thoroughly debunked by historians from various countries).
As they were eating a nice lunch, consisting of smoked salmon, cottage cheese, cucumber salad, with some bread rolls washed down by lemonade. Lily brought up his progress on homework.
“Well, I’m halfway through Astronomy and wrote two paragraphs for History,” Alex modestly said, then he asked, “Can I practice broom drills today?”
His mother sighed, “Alex, you need to at least finish Astronomy today,”
Then his father interrupted, “Let him do some broom drills, Lily. He’s been working hard for the last couple of days; so why not let him go have fun?”
Lily smiled, “Very well, you made good enough progress today. So go have fun,”
Alex whooped with glee. Now this was like it, he mused as he finished essaying his lunch.
Harry would have shared such a sentiment after he arrived in Penzance. He bounced his way to the harbor as he got off the bus, intent on going to the beach. While he quite forgot to bring some beach gear, he was going to dip his toes in the water and walk along the sand. Rocky Valley had been fun but as he was leaving the area around Tintagel; he learned of the magical areas in and around Cornwall thanks to some American wizards who had also toured the area even if they didn’t camp out. He also learned that the Americans had a greater fascination with King Arthur than many British wizards, who preferred Merlin, conflating the original with the men and women who held the title, awarded by Brythonic and Saxon courts. Choosing to escape the debate over what Merlin was and the obvious error of having the titular man appear at Hogwarts centuries after Arthur’s kingdom collapsed under the Saxon tide; Harry decided to make use of the information he learned concerning Penzance.
Thankfully early July meant that many vernaculi British families were not out in force among the beaches, so Harry was able to wander without meeting too many people until he got bored before exploring the harbor. For lunch, he chose a nice Cornish pastry and some Cornish fairings for a side at one of the smaller cafes close to the beachfront. Then afterwards, he strolled along the gardens before taking the bus to Men-an-Tol to see the oddly shaped stone with a hole through it and the ruins nearby. It was considerably advanced in the afternoon by the time he returned to Penzance. He then checked into the Catlike Tread Bed and Breakfast, definitely a pun on the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta.
Harry managed to sneak one more summons of dropped cash but only collected about twelve quid; again, pretending he had dropped something for the benefit of the tourists. Thank goodness I can do this wandlessly, he thought as he straightened up, faking relief for the benefit of the audience.
“That was a close one,” he sighed, having spotted another group of Americans and a few Japanese tourists wandering nearer than he would have liked; in addition to the few tourists who had seemed concerned when he dipped down. Most of what he gathered was used to buy some mackerel and Cornish yarb for a nice dinner. While Harry still had fair amount of cash on him; he still wanted to ensure there would be a small amount leftover after his adventure; just in case. Making sure, he wasn’t being watched; Harry entered the small, magical enclave that consisted of two Bed and Breakfasts, a potion’s shop and magical bookstore in addition to a few homefronts. Cornish wizards, Harry figured out, lived in smaller groups and preferred not to engage too much in the affairs of Britain. They preferred vernaculi of their own people over English wizards though still maintained separation as ordered. Still, both B&Bs looked nice; he thought as he entered the Catlike Tread.
Unlike the homey, medieval feel of Snowdonia’s Dragon or the pleasant, cushioning of the Grumbly Cat; the Catlike Tread reflected a cross between Victorian England and a sea bungalow though Harry did like his room which was reminiscent of the beach. The proprietor may lack the warmth of the Davies or the airiness of the owner of the Grumbly, preferring to mutter in Cornish; he was still hospitable to the young traveler. While he did not like that Harry was wandering around by himself, as the man seemed to guess very accurately about why the pre-teen was out and about; he did not quibble though he gave the pre-teen a penetrating stare.
“Be careful, when you go camping,” he said in English as Harry checked out after a comfortable night, “Some travelers are reporting difficulties out there,”
Harry assented that he would take care. Yet when he started his hike around nine to Mouschole Village and Kemyel Crease; he quite forgot the man’s warning; enjoying the landscape. Yet as he was going onward to Lamorna Cove, a strange mist seemed to come along the trail almost coming closeby. Harry raced for a nearby hill which allowed him to go up into the sunlight. That caused the mist to break off from pursuit. Peering closely, he thought he saw a shape within it but dismissed it as his imagination. That said, he made sure to eat his lunch in the light of day and then camped carefully, close to the facilities.
That night, he found himself going to the toilet. As was his habit with such matters, he took his satchel and money bag as he left his tent, zipping it up to prevent anyone from looking inside. Then after he finished his business and left the facility, the mist appeared again. In that mist, there seemed to be the shape of dog or was it a horse, he could not be sure. Harry was about to move out of the way when he heard a snarl from the mist. Realizing the shape was not an illusion and was about to attack him; Harry removed the sgian dhu from his satchel and unsheathed it.
Just in time too, as he could smell the creature’s breath right on him. There was a recoil from it, allowing Harry to guess his way to his tent which he just barely managed. Then it was close by him again. He had no idea what made him do this, but Harry rooted in his cold box to offer up the last of the roast beef to the creature.
The fiery-eyed animal wolfed it down. Then Harry offered the ham and sliced chicken. Finally, after the last of the meat had gone, the creature studied the boy then gave him a lick before bounding away.
Wondering what that had been about and resolving to move his campsite tomorrow, Harry fell asleep on his sleeping bag though it was rather uneasy.
In contrast and geographically distant, a disturbance at Gringotts, meant there was no sleep for Malystrix or more fondly known as Malys who handled the Most Ancient and Most Noble inheritance vault or the Vault of Scrolls that Produced Many Regents for Life. Ironically, it was a prestigious though boring position since few could break that far into Gringotts given its location was buried deep in the Bank and if anyone was lucky or stupid enough to get there; there was no opening or destroying the scrolls (many tried and failed epically; Gringotts has a record of the funniest attempts to destroy a Blood Scroll and Malystrix went through them when her duties palled).
She glared at the guard protecting the Blood Scrolls who had left his post to wake her, “There had better be a good reason for this,” she snapped, still half-asleep.
“The Gryffindor Scroll is glowing,” his reply shocked her into full wakefulness. Throwing a robe over herself, she raced down the corridor to the vault with the guard hot on her heels.
The Blood Scrolls were carefully guarded as after the Alastor Family ruction proved it necessary. In addition to attempts at destroying the scroll, there were also attempts on those heirs whose name was revealed; especially when other families or fellow members of said families believed they had a better claim to the title. While the Alastor heir survived the Podmore family’s attempt at rectifying matters; he and the rest of the Ministry requested that Gringotts keep the Blood Scrolls for each family under heavy guard after the dust cleared. Another thing agreed upon was to ensure the heir made it to Gringotts before an announcement could be made and said heir claimed the House in the full; complete with lordship ring. When another heir had been found thanks to achieving the requirements in another Blood Scroll; he was forced to remove his own family from inheritance as his older siblings attempted to remove him from his position, lethally. While that matter had been settled later, it caused enough problems that many families chose instead to restrict powers of unworthy heirs in their wills or disinherit them overtly than have something so vague choose an heir among the bloodline. Blood Scrolls fell out of fashion and were later declared illegal though the Houses that still had them were grandfathered into inheritance laws. Namely as Arcturus Black would later put it,
“No one can undo the bloody things except said heirs if they ever fulfill the requirements,”
Though there was much sympathy for the last Lord Gryffindor when he created one considering his only heir was Rupert the Mad and everyone else within two degrees wasn’t much better. In fact, there were many who said the last Lord Gryffindor all but saved Britain by that decision. Even a century later; several Lords including the Potter who held the Gryffindor regency, whose grandfather married into the Gryffindor main line (caused disputes and feuds which remained at a dull roar due to the fact that the regent of the time held to his oaths), agreed it was needed as the potential heirs weren’t much better even then. That said, it seemed the time of Potter regents was at an end for the Gryffindor lordship.
And it was this scroll causing the ruckus, Malystrix thought resentfully, as she watched the glowing object subside. The Blood Seal broke and then it unfurled. She walked over to read the name.
“What the-,” the rest of her words settled into mass swearing in multiple languages.
The two guards looked at each other and then their incoherent superior. She finally enlightened them.
“How the hell did Harry Potter fulfill all the requirements to be Lord Gryffindor?” she shouted.
One of the guards took the liberty of looking at the requirements, he listed them for his companions’ benefit, “Sort into a Hogwarts House that is NOT Gryffindor. Encountering though not deliberately seeking out four creatures XXX or higher. Vanquishing a creature that is XXXXX ranked in self-defense or in defense of others. Saving a unicorn. Drawing Gryffindor’s sword. Finding out two secrets of Hogwarts. Getting an Acceptable or higher in Latin for two years. Highly trained in combat,” he thought for a moment then asked the question on their minds, “I thought Alex Potter drew Gryffindor’s sword and killed the Basilisk,”
Malys eyed him then said, “So did I. But Blood Scrolls don’t lie,”
“Then did Alex Potter?” the second guard offered uncertainly.
That query caused Malys to pause. She studied the name at the bottom of the scroll and then at the requirements to fulfill the Lordship. Tapping it, she said, “Go to King Ragnock and inform him of this matter,”
“He may be still asleep,” the second guard said nervously.
“Then wake him,” Malystrix snapped, already on edge from the revelations.
King Ragnock was less than pleased that he was awakened in the middle of the night. Yet he likewise had a similar reaction to the name at the bottom of the scroll. After he finished, he sat back in his chair with a steaming cup of cappuccino by his side while the pair sat down at the table.
“Given how Blood Scrolls are tied to magic,” he began, “They do not lie. Which means that Alex Potter likely committed grave dishonor in lying about his deeds. It also belies the report I received that Harry Potter was dead from Goldfinger,”
“Why did you think him dead?” she asked curiously.
“There was a leech left in his scar after Voldemort attacked that night. Given the duration and his power, it was highly likely that the child would have perished by now unless some one acted to bind the leech which is unlikely but possible. It is that or he is incredibly powerful which also disturbs me,” he tapped the scroll, “We have few answers and the questions they lead to are disturbing. Malys, investigate this carefully.”
“And what about the Basilisk?” she asked.
“Once we have full verification of the tale, then we will act,” Ragnock informed her, “As for the rest, get to the bottom of the pot,” his hand almost broke the mug.
How dare that brat-who-lived drag his bank into dishonor; Ragnock internally snarled, mentally composing orders to freeze Alex’s so-called Basilisk vault which had already collected three bounties from several anti-Dark Leagues. He was going to have to transfer the name, it seemed and alert the organizations though that may have to wait until Harry Potter claimed lordship.
“Any chance I can eviscerate the thrice-cursed boy-who-lived-to-see dishonor?” Malys asked lightly.
“Only monetarily, my dear,” Ragnock sighed having gone over their treaties with the Ministry in his head, “Only monetarily, though it is a pity that certain old ways are dead,”
Both goblins’ eyes met. They were furious but controlled due to their positions. However, several clans might start sharpening their weapons to go after the so-called Light’s Chosen for the grave dishonor and betrayal he gave his twin.
Harry was, of course, lamentably ignorant of what went on in the bank. That morning, he was still rather freaked about his unusual encounter the night before. He was also down to his cheeses, some fruit, and his tuna-egg salad sandwiches in his coldbox along with some bread and vegetable fixings. He remained jumpy during his return to Penzance as though his eyes were tricking him to see mist. However, as he hiked Botallack with its dramatic cliffside ruins and the Levant Mines area with its beautiful scenery did much to soothe his spirit though he did bow his head at the memorial at the Levant for the lost miners. Upon his return to the village, he acquired a nice mackerel sandwich with some chips and a coke for lunch before he finally went off to another campsite. There he spent an uncomfortable night, fully expecting to see that unusual, mist-shrouded dog/horse/thing demanding the ham and roast beef he bought to refill his coldbox before he made his way there.
When he did get to sleep almost thinking he was seeing mist again, the weird dream of the basilisk in a seventies-mini-skirt playing the tuba while the mist creature danced the polka with Flitwick singing along in High German was enough to make him bolt awake and wonder if he should have had cheese before going to sleep. Turning over in his sleeping bag, Harry huffed before falling back into a restless slumber.
Albus Dumbledore had an even more restless night than Harry Potter. He had not only called in favors from the ICW but requested the goblins to appear as well. The headmaster had been unpleasantly surprised when the two teams arrived together at the gate. He had even been less than pleased when he learned that the lone American was on friendly terms with the goblin team leader.
“Why Hammerhand, you disgusting scrub with a face your mother screamed at when you were born, how have you been?” Alan Winslow shouted joyfully.
“Winslow? You are still alive? I thought I was safe to not hear your dulcet tones you insane idiot,” Hammerhand was equally pleased to see his old friend.
Louis, who was back on the team, looked at the boggling headmaster and informed him, “It is a small world when it comes to cursebreaker. Very often, you will meet the same people over again. Now, what is the problem?”
Soon both teams were in the bathroom, checking over the sink.
“Whew,” Alan said as he analyzed the seal, “This is old and I daresay it is tied to the wards here,”
“Can you undo it?” Dumbledore demanded.
Alan laughed fit to kill then he saw the defeater of Grindelwald’s face, “Are you serious? What part of its tied to the wards did you not hear?” he asked incredulously, “I can’t break it. No cursebreaker can break it without draining their core. Even if we are successful, we might take the whole ward scheme down with it,”
Louis nodded soberly, “Few schools have such a ward scheme. It is Hogwarts’ strength. If they come down, they will not come back as there is no one alive who can rebuild such a thing. In addition, even if we could, we wouldn’t,”
“Why?” Dumbledore asked nettled.
“Because,” Hammerhand took over, “You would basically reveal everything here. The wards extend down to Hogsmeade and a little beyond which allows you to stay out of muggle sight. Once the wards are gone; they will see everything.”
“Basically, you would be violating the Statute to even do such an action especially since we can’t put them back up. The school Headmasters can add, can tweak, or take an aspect down,” Alan grimaced at the last, “But undoing this means undoing the whole ward structure. Whoever put the seal, you will have to wait for them to take it off,”
Overtly, Albus Dumbledore remained calm, but Alan and the two teams saw his blue eyes radiate fury. The pressure was almost stifling; then it dissipated just as abruptly. Louis and Alan barely managed to keep their feet while the rest of their team almost fell flat during the interval though many did breathe a sigh in relief once the pressure was gone. None of the goblins looked pleased at the Headmaster manifesting his aura to intimidate them and muttered insults at the man in their own language. Seeing his audience not falling over themselves at his displeasure, the Dumbledore’s eyes flashed but then he subsided into his friendly persona which fooled no one.
“Well, if there is nothing you can do. We may as well wait for Alex Potter then,” he said.
Alan bit his tongue rather than retort that there was no we. Louis rolled his eyes at the Headmaster’s appropriation of his time but said nothing. The goblins shrugged. As the two teams left the school (no refreshments for their time spent analyzing what locked the Chamber), Alan fell back a bit as the goblins were conferring.
“Rite of conquest, only the one by rite of conquest can open the seal,” Hammerhand informed his team.
“Alex Potter?” one asked.
Hammerhand looked as though he was going to curse the name but only said, “We will see,”
Since Gringott’s team leader seemed uninclined to expound on his statement, Alan decided it was enough to give to Madam Cabot Lodge. Yet Hammerhand’s reaction disturbed him; goblins don’t react like that unless it was dealing with a very important customer that they hated. What did Alex Potter do to get that reaction?”
Alan thought again about what he knew about their culture. One of his classmates described them as a cross between Ferengi and Klingons; a description he found rather apt. Remembering what they hated, Alan started to catalogue what could anger them so. Finding loopholes and squirming through them; stealing from others unless it was a Forbidden Artifact that needed destruction; creating artifacts using the Forbidden Arts; tainting artifacts using the Forbidden Arts; stealing credit for a kill…wait a moment. The man frowned as another thought occurred to him; perhaps he should let his superiors know the reasoning even if it was just suspicion.
Albus seethed in his chambers. The seal failed to respond to his command. It was His School; there were no heirs (he conveniently forgot about the Blood Scrolls) who could challenge him. Riddle could not, not with the way that he ripped his soul apart. James was only the Regent for Gryffindor, which Alex would inherit. So how was something locked against him? His magic swirled around his office for a good while before he finally calmed down. Thinking about Alex Potter, he realized that perhaps the school was protecting the boy’s claim. That had to be it. The other countries aside from Britain and France were merely waiting for verification before awarding the child. Maybe a public reveal was in order? No, the seal will be broken on the 11th and there the matter will be settled.
There was something nagging at him though. Something that he had forgotten. No matter, it was probably unimportant.
Meanwhile during his day in the fruitless endeavor at trying to get into the Chamber again, the Wizengamot voted overwhelmingly to remove Dumbledore as Chief Warlock, replacing him with Jason Greengrass. Daedulus Diggle and Elphias Doge could only give helpless glances at James Potter’s empty seat who had chosen to take the afternoon off to spend with his wife and friends; one of which was also missing from his seat for the session.