Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

As Harry looked upon Diagon Alley for the first time, he couldn't resist bouncing on his toes. There was so much to see! As more of the magical world was revealed to him, Harry was in awe of it all with every second that passed.

"This is Diagon Alley." announced Hagrid, patting Harry on the back with a laugh. Harry excitedly crossed through the archway after Hagrid, turning back to see the wall twist and bend back into solid, smooth brick. It left him breathless.

Harry wandered after Hagrid slowly, taking in the sights. It wasn't very special looking, or very fancy, but something about it sang to him and made his heart shine. He saw people shopping, looking in windows and pushing open doors. One woman was shaking her head outside a place called Apothecary and muttering "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad." Harry wondered how money worked in the wizarding world, and if sixteen Sickles was a lot.

Harry listened as owls screeched in a shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium; he hummed along and hopped over a green weed growing between two pavestones; he wanted curiously as boys his age huddled around a showcase of… brooms? "Look! The new Nimbus Two Thousand, fastest ever!" Harry walked on, though he wondered why the boys looked so utterly captivated by such a seemingly ordinary object.

There were shops for all kinds of things: robes, telescopes, strange silver instruments he didn't know how to work, barrels of bat spleen and eels' eyes, quills and parchment, potion bottles and moon globes… Harry was in awe of it all.

"This is Gringotts." Harry was pulled out of his observations by Hagrid as they approached a large white building, shining with brilliance that put all the other buildings to shame. It literally towered over the shops. Harry noticed large bronze doors with an odd sort of person wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold. "Don’ stare, Harry. That's a goblin." said Hagrid when he caught Harry staring.

Harry ignored Hagrid and eyed the odd little creature curiously. The goblin was a head shorter than Harry with a sharp looking face and a long, well groomed white beard. Paired with the red uniform he wore, Harry figured he looked rather like a very odd Santa Claus. Though his feet and hands looked strangely elongated to Harry, joints slightly too far apart with the outline of thin bones visible through their skin, which wasn't very Santa-esque.

Hagrid led him past the bronze doors into a small entryway that ended without another pair of doors, bright silver with a poem etched into the metal. As they walked by, Harry's eyes scanned the pretty cursive curiously.

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn,
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said before, yeh’d be mad to rob it." Hagrid shuddered, also eyeing the warning inscription. Harry just nodded absently. He didn't quite believe that it was the safest place in the world, even if Hagrid said so. It was just a bank, after all.

Harry then gaped in awe as they entered a large marble hall. It was strangely round, doors lining the curved walls leading off in all directions, goblins escorting people of all kinds through them with little gestures; Harry wondered if it was a bit like a maze to navigate through so many doors and halls. The high ceilings and smooth floors gave it a very expensive-looking vibe, and dozens of goblins on high stools sat behind a long counter at the far side of the room. They scribbled away on parchment, examined gemstones and weighed coins. It was quite exciting to absorb the image of it all.

Hagrid led him to a counter at the end of the Hall, but as they reached it Harry pulled on the edge of Hagrid's enormous coat, getting the large man's attention. Maybe it was stupid, but he wanted to participate in this new world as much as he could.

"Hagrid." prompted Harry. "Can I talk to the goblin?" Hagrid looked positively bewildered by the request.

"What'd yeh wanna do somethin' like that for?"

"Because I've never talked to anyone else magicky before," said Harry. "Come on, please? You'll be standing right there next to me." Hagrid frowned, but reluctantly nodded.

“I s'pose it's alright.” said Hagrid with a grunt. Harry beamed at him.

Harry approached the counter and went on his tippy-toes to see over to the goblin seated behind it. The goblin had a hooked nose and a sneering face that seemed to glare at Hagrid's enormous form, but he visibly paused when Harry's head popped into view.

"Hello!" said Harry brightly to the frowning goblin. "My name is Harry Potter, and I need money.”

“Is that so?” The goblin eyed him.

“It is!” Harry grinned. “I haven't ever had any money before because I grew up with my Aunt and Uncle, and they don't really share." The goblin paused his scowling, looking quite confused.

“Mister Potter does not have any Potter relatives.” The goblin told him.

“Oh, I know,” said Harry. “I grew up with my mother's sister, so she's not a Potter.”

"Did Mister Potter grow up with Muggles?" The goblin tilted his head, eyes narrowed.

"Yep! I didn't even know I was a wizard until last night," confided Harry. “Hagrid came and got me.” He turned to smile at Hagrid, who was shifting foot to foot as he watched. The goblin nodded slowly.

"Would you like a Muggle-borns Starter Kit?" asked the goblin. "We give it to people with Muggle parents, but I presume you'd need one since you grew up like one." Harry nodded.

"Thank you very much! Now, how do I pay for the kit? I still have no money." said Harry. The goblin grinned toothily.

"And have you your key, Mister Potter?" Harry paused, thinking, but he was saved answering when Hagrid stepped forward.

"Oh! I'll be havin' it here some'o'where." Hagrid began rummaging around in his coat, dumping random items on the counter such as what seemed to be moldy dog biscuits.

"Can I have it?" said Harry. Hagrid paused to look at him in surprise.

"No, no, Professor Dumbledore asked me teh hang onto it fer yeh, so don' yeh worry." Hagrid waved him off; he then produced a tiny golden key from his enormous pockets triumphantly. "Ah ha!" He handed it to the goblin. “There yeh go.”

"Yes, very well." said the goblin after a minute, inspecting the key. “Everything seems to be in order.”

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid looked around a bit, holding out a small sealed letter to the goblin. "It's about the you-know-what from Vault 713." said Hagrid lowly. The goblin looked at him carefully, suspicious, but accepted the letter.

"I see. Then I will have someone take you down to both vaults." The goblin turned around to shout, "Griphook!" Then he went back to his work without another word.

Hagrid scooped the dog treats back into his coat as another goblin appeared through one of the many doors, and they followed Griphook through a different door all the way across the room.

"What's the You-Know-What from vault 713?" asked Harry. He did not know what, despite what the name implied.

"Can't tell yeh that, it's very secret, that is." said Hagrid mysteriously. "Hogwarts business, is all, and Dumbledore's trusted me with this. More'n my jobs worth ter tell yeh that, I say." Harry didn't respond as he frowned silently. That didn't make much sense. If it was just Hogwarts business why wasn't the Headmaster doing it himself?

Harry then more closely examined the dark stone path they'd entered. The pretty marble was left behind, replaced by cut stone and flaming torches. It sloped downwards steeply to reveal a massive cavern, empty space branching off every which way with so many railway tracks Harry couldn't count how many there were. The architecture was stunning, and though Harry didn't know much about building stuff he knew it must've taken decades, maybe even centuries, to build even a small portion of what he could see.

“It's so beautiful.” said Harry, breathless with awe. Griphook turned to look at Harry over his shoulder. They were close in height, funnily enough. Harry was exceptionally small for his age, so he rarely met someone his height.

“Yes, it is.” said Griphook, nodding. “Gringotts was here before anything else in London - even the first Muggle settlements.”

“Wow.” Looking out at everything, Harry didn't doubt that one bit.

It wasn't long until they reached a track with a sleek cart on wide rails. Together they clambered in and to Harry's shock and delight the cart started moving by itself. It took off so quickly Harry had to grab the tail. He laughed as it turned and twisted, the cart remaining level even as the tracks went upside down and sideways. Magic was so wondrous, Harry could hardly believe he'd gone his whole childhood without it.

The ride was short but positively exhilarating. When they finally rolled to a stop Hagrid hopped out first to lean against a wall, knees shaking. He was looking a little green, so Harry steered clear as he climbed out himself. There was a small door punched into a wall of smooth stone, which Griphook stepped up to unlock. Green smoke poured out as the lock clicked and the door swung open - Harry gaped as the green cleared and the contents revealed.

Harry very slowly entered to see piles of gold coins, rows of silver and mounds of bronze. Those were Knuts, according to Hagrid, but Harry didn't know about the other ones. In any case, it suddenly occurred to Harry that he was rich. And that wasn't even counting the small stack pushed all the way to the back that looked to be ordinary money, which there was also a whole lot of. That was a bit scary, seeing as he'd never really had money before. What did a person even do with so much money?

"The gold ones are Galleons." said Hagrid, remaining outside in the doorway. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough once yeh get the hang of it."

"This is all mine?" asked Harry, just to be sure.

"Yes it is." confirmed Griphook. Harry could help but laugh in astonishment. Then he paused.

"Oh!" exclaimed Harry, turning back to beam at Griphook. "I need one of those Kit things for people who grew up ordinary. How much is it for that?" Hagrid faced Harry abruptly.

"Now now Harry, Dumbledore said yeh'd only be needin' 50 galleons for school supplies, and that's it." Harry frowned.

"But what about the Kit?" asked Harry. "You said it yourself I don't know anything about our world, don't you think I need one?" Hagrid looked suddenly nervous.

"Now Harry," said Hagrid, leaning down. "Dumbledore only has yer bes' interest in mind, yeh hear?" Harry frowned hard but agreed to settle the giant.

Hagrid, producing a pouch from his pocket, went into the Vault. Harry watched Hagrid count the gold coins he shuffled into the bag, then Harry slowly scooted over towards Griphook as subtly as possible.

"Don't listen to him, I want that Kit." whispered Harry, catching Griphook's attention. "I guess, charge it to my Vault?" Harry knew Vernon said that sometimes - he wasn't sure what it meant but people usually let you buy stuff if you said that.

Griphook nodded with a wide grin and snapped his fingers. A box appeared suddenly in his hands between one second and the next and he offered it to Harry, who was staring starry-eyed at the box. The goblin tapped it with one long finger and Harry watched as it shrunk to fit to the size of a rubik's cube to fit snugly in his pocket.

"Just tap it twice, Mister Potter, and it will unshrink." instructed the goblin. Harry nodded with a bright smile as he tucked it away into his sagging pockets. He then hurriedly straightened himself and tried not to look suspicious as Hagrid returned.

"Vault 713 now, please. An’ can we go a bit slow?" Hagrid looked green again as he climbed back into the cart carefully.

"One speed only." Harry noticed Griphook seemed wickedly amused as he said it.

After they all loaded back in, they sped deeper and deeper into the caves, air getting colder and colder, hurtling around corners at blinding speeds. Harry leaned over the side in awe to see a deep ravine underneath them with no bottom in sight, lost in darkness. Hagrid groaned at him unhappily and yanked him back into the cart by the collar. Harry rubbed his neck ruefully as they unloaded once again and stood before a door with no keyhole.

"Stand back." ordered Griphook. He then stroked the door with his elongated fingers in a soft pattern and the door melted before their very eyes. Harry gasped. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there." Harry was sure Griphook was amused now.

"Oh?" said Harry, tilting his head. “How often d'you check if someone's been trapped in?”

"About once every ten years." Griphook grinned evilly. Harry huffed a small laugh.

Hagrid entered the Vault and Harry leaned to the side to see it appeared to be an empty room. He squinted to catch sight of a tiny cardboard colored package being scooped up by Hagrid and tucked away inside his coat. What could possibly be so small and so ordinary and yet so important? Despite himself, Harry was curious about the little package.

Unfortunately he didn't get to see much else as Hagrid clambered back into the cart. Then they were off again.

Once the three of them were back to the main room filled with goblins and doors, Harry waved bye to Griphook as the goblin disappeared behind the counter. Hagrid then led him outside and took multiple gulping breaths before turning to Harry. He still looked a bit green in the face.

"Might as well get yer uniform." said Hagrid, nodding towards a place called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He shuddered, but Harry grinned.

"Of course I don't mind!" enthused Harry. "Take your time. I shop for Petunia all the time, it's not a problem at all."

With a couple more mutterings Harry barely listened to, Hagrid meandered off back the way they came towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry waited, waving occasionally whenever Hagrid glanced over his shoulder to look at him, but remained on the steps of the Bank until Hagrid disappeared through the brick archway.

Then Harry pulled out the rubik's cube sized box and sat down on the steps, licking his lips nervously as he tapped it twice gently with a finger. To his delight, it grew to the full size, leaving a heavy box seated on Harry's lap. Inside were a handful of pamphlets and books; he pulled them out to examine them excitedly.

A Worldview on Wizarding Etiquette by Samantha Edmonds

An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe by Rebecca Slang

Purebloods and Half-Bloods and Muggle-borns by Samantha Edmonds

A Wizarding Guide: Magical and Muggle Studies by Jasmine Edding

Wizarding Politics by Samantha Edmonds

How To: Greet Creatures Cordially by Dylan Marwood

Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk

Harry grinned at the covers, resolving himself to read all of them thoroughly the moment he had the time to immerse himself in them. However, just then he simply read the blurbs on the back. Fascinatingly, the first thing that snagged his attention was the mention of two other schools from An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe.

Apparently there were three Wizarding schools in Europe alone, which was exciting! That meant Harry would get to pick between them! Glancing at the pamphlets, Harry grinned when he realized he had one for each school. The pamphlets would probably be just as helpful as the books, which delighted Harry. He had lots of pamphlets, actually.

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning

Navigating Magical Areas

Useful Items for New Wizards: Diagon Alley

Apparently Hogwarts was in the Western Scottish Highlands, Beauxbatons was in the Pyrenees Mountains of Southern France, and Durmstrang was somewhere in Western Russia. All those places sounded terribly exciting to Harry.

Apparently Hogwarts and Durmstrang each had four Houses students were Sorted into, but Beauxbatons only had three. Each school presented their classes and Year leveling differently as well, all unique in their own ways.

Durmstrang ranked each class by year and skill. In each age year there were three groups. Low level understanding, moderate level of understanding, and high level of understanding. Each person learned at their proper understanding level, while still being grouped by age.

Beauxbatons did everything by skill level. Year 1s could take classes with Year 7s if they were at the same understanding level, regardless of age. It was mentioned that this made the students bond more closely, mingling between Years and allowing students of all ages to form positive relationships.

Alternatively, Hogwarts did everything by year. Students were kept in their age group the whole time, all taking the same classes at the same difficulty. It seemed odd compared to the other school, but the pamphlet said it provided a socializing aspect for kids to grow close to all the other kids their age.

Regardless, Harry was most enraptured by Beauxbatons. He wondered what France was like, if he'd have a hard time adjusting. Did he have to speak fluent French to enroll? The pamphlets didn't say so, which was a good sign. Harry chose to be optimistic.

According to the pamphlets, most Wizarding children went to the school their parents did, as that way they didn't have to pay for enrollment because they'd be 'legacy kids.' Muggle-borns had to pay regardless because they were a new family, which didn't seem very fair to Harry. Though it did explain why Hagrid assumed Harry would pick Hogwarts; he wouldn't have to pay the enrollment fee that way.

Harry decided it would be worth the fee; all he had to do was send an owl asking for a spot with the admission payment included. That would be easy enough, he had–

Wait.

Harry didn't have money! Hagrid took the money pouch with him to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry twisted around to look up at the Bank, then sighed. Blast; he didn't have a key either. They probably wouldn't let him in without a key, but he was just in there. Surely they'd remembered him? Well, he could at least ask, and if they didn't let him have more money Harry would just have to figure something else out.

With a firm nod to himself, Harry tucked the Kit away after awkwardly tapping it twice to shrink it again, squared his shoulders, then marched back into the Bank. This time alone.

Harry hesitantly approached the counter along the back wall and peeked over the edge, once again on his tippy-toes. He cleared his throat.

"Well met," said Harry. The back of one of his new books said it was polite to say that to someone you've never met before. The goblin looked up at him expectantly. "I'm Harry Potter. I was just in here a moment ago and went down to my Vault, but I need to go down again and I don't have my key anymore."

"No key, no admittance." said the goblin firmly. Harry frowned in thought.

"Can I talk to Griphook?" asked Harry. The goblin gave him a surprised look. "He walked me down, he'll remember me."

"Very well," said the goblin with a small frown. "Griphook!" After a moment, Griphook appeared from behind the counter and tilted his head in a bit of surprise when he saw Harry.

"Hi Griphook." Harry waved with a grin. "Oh, um, well met. Again. Anyway, Hagrid walked off with my money and my key, so I'm going to need more."

"Why do you not have your own key?" Griphook raised an eyebrow. "Rubeus Hagrid is certainly not your Magical Guardian, as such he should not be in possession of your key without your consent."

"What's a Magical Guardian?" asked Harry curiously. That made Griphook pause.

"Wizarding orphans are assigned a Magical Guardian to look after them and keep them safe while they're underage, and are obligated to visit their assigned child regularly."

"Well I've never met anyone like that," said Harry. "Are you sure I even have one?"

"Very certain," said Griphook with a frown. "This is most unusual." Harry waited, as Griphook seemed to be thinking, but eventually the goblin nodded seemingly to himself. "Come. We shall see." He stalked off while Harry happily bounced after him. Despite the oddness of the situation, Harry found himself excited by the whole thing. The Wizarding world held so many more possibilities than the world he'd left behind on that rock in the middle of the sea.

Griphook led him through one of the doors off the main room. Harry looked around in awe of the corridors they walked through. It was like a beautiful maze, the floors a bright white marble and the walls chiseled stone with murals carved into them that told stories Harry didn't know. The work of goblins, no doubt. Hagrid said they'd built the bank, cared for it, ran it; Harry couldn't help marveling over it.

When they finally stopped Griphook beckoned him through a bright blue door, Harry soon found himself in a large dome-like room. It had a basin of some sort off to one side, as well as several desks and couches. Griphook led him to a desk, they sat on opposite sides.

Bringing out a piece of paper and a thin knife from one of the drawers, Griphook placed the paper in front of him and held the knife out for Harry to take. "I'll need you to give three drops of blood to the paper." instructed the goblin.

Harry tilted his head in confusion, but he obediently accepted the thin blade. He pressed the tip firmly to the side of his wrist; his skin tore under the light pressure, blood welled up on the small wound. Setting the knife down, Harry pinched the wound and watched three crimson blotches mar the paper on the desk before pressing a fingertip to the pinprick wound to stop the bleeding.

"Give me your wrist." ordered Griphook. Surprised, Harry gently raised his hand and removed the pressure. A drop welled up again, but Griphook snapped his fingers and the wound closed. Harry watched in wonder as the drop that was sealed out of his body slid down his arm and splashed onto his baggy jeans. Harry grinned, absentmindedly wiping the streak of blood off his arm with the edge of his shirt.

"That was so cool, thank you." said Harry brightly. The goblin just grinned before turning to the paper. Harry blinked when he realized the blood drops had soaked into the paper and disappeared. "What the-" He leaned forward and watched as crimson writing appeared out of nowhere, shimmering into existence one moment before the next.

"Ah." Griphook stared down at the paper with a frown. "I did not expect this."

"What?"

"I chose this test to see who your Magical Guardian is, but I've found something far more interesting." The goblin looked up at Harry, seemingly confused and amused at the same time. "This test reveals your personal information. Your name, age, parents, and current primary Guardian."

"So?" asked Harry, confused. His parents were dead, that wouldn't be a surprise.

"See for yourself." Griphook turned it around for him to see. Carefully, Harry pulled it towards himself to read.

Name: Henry James Orion Potter-Evans-Black

Mother: Lily Jade Evans (deceased)
Father: Sirius Orion Black (living)
BA(P): James Fleamont Potter (deceased)

Age: 11

Primary Guardian: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Harry stared at the paper in confusion. Ignoring the fact that his name was weird, Harry asked the more important question. "Who's Sirius Black?"

"He was well known as James Potter's best friend," said Griphook. "Until he was thrown in Azkaban, the Wizarding prison, ten years ago for betraying the Potters which led to not only their deaths but the deaths of a dozen Muggles and one other wizard." Harry's gaped at the goblin in horror.

"And he's my Dad?"

"If it helps, he's completely innocent." Griphook grinned. Harry blinked in surprise.

"... Huh? But you said he was in prison."

"He wasn't given a trial." Griphook shrugged. "It was at the height of the Dark Lord's reign, so the Wizengamot vaguely examined the evidence and sentenced him to life in Azkaban."

"But that's wrong!" exclaimed Harry angrily, despite the fact that he had no idea what a Wiz-ma-got was. "If he's innocent they shouldn't've thrown him in jail."

"And yet they did." said Griphook. "Regardless, it seems my guess regarding your Magical Guardian was correct." Harry paused and tried to focus on that aspect instead of the revelation that he wasn't who he thought he was, and reread the document.

"Dumbledore, as in the Headmaster of Hogwarts?" asked Harry with a frown. "That doesn't make sense."

"He was very close with your parents. All three of them." explained Griphook. "What's curious is that he left you to grow up without magic, and did not check in with you even once."

"What d'you mean he left me?" asked Harry slowly, trying to process what that meant.

"Any number of Wizarding families would have been honored to raise Harry Potter, and would have treated you well," said Griphook. Harry's hands clenched into fists. "But he left you with Muggles for some odd reason."

Harry couldn't help the bubbling anger that flooded through him, a wave of resentment towards a man he'd never met. Harry was relentlessly bullied by his relatives all his life and apparently it was because the Headmaster of Hogwarts chose to leave him there? How was that fair? What was the reason?

"What's a Bap?" asked Harry finally, shelving the topic for the moment.

"It's a B-A-P, child. Not a 'Bap'." Griphook grinned widely. Harry looked at him curiously. "It's an initialism, it stands for 'Blood Adoption, Paternal'."

"Well what's that?" asked Harry.

"A Blood Adoption is when an adult uses their blood in a ritual to make a child biologically theirs using magic," said Griphook. "It's commonly used, as the name implies, when an orphan is being adopted by a new parent. Alternatively, such as in your case, it can be used to represent a third party in polyamorous relationships."

"What's polyamorous mean?"

"That's a complicated question." Griphook sighed. "To put it simply, polyamory is a form of committed relationships between two or more people."

"So… I have three parents?" questioned Harry. "Like, all three of them were together?" Harry hadn't ever heard of such a thing. It sounded… really nice.

"It seems that way." Griphook shrugged. "The B-A-P does explain why you look so much like James Potter. Those kinds of rituals tend to override a child's genetics a bit too much, in some cases."

"What?" Harry blinked. "You mean I don't actually look like this?" His name wasn't his name, his dad was only sort of his dad, and now his face wasn't even his face? This was getting ridiculous!

"Would you like to change that?" inquired Griphook. "A Cleansing Ritual would remove the change in appearance."

"... Would that mean I'm not related to my Dad anymore?" Harry didn't know if he would be okay with that. As much as he wanted to know what he really looked like, it didn't seem fair to erase his dad like that. Well, one of his dads, anyway.

"The Cleaning Ritual cannot alter your genetics." Griphook smirked. "It merely cleanses a person of any magical concealment Charms. We use a similar form of magic as a security measure elsewhere in the Bank. We call it The Thief's Downfall."

"That's so cool." said Harry with a grin, then cleared his throat to focus again. "Then, yes, I want to know what I look like."

"Very well. Follow me." said Griphook. Harry followed the goblin through the maze of hallways once again until they reached a silver painted door with an odd symbol decorating it that Harry didn't recognize. Maybe some sort of language?

Harry walked through the door into a white room with a few beds with clean sheets. There were women in white aprons with bandanas on their heads moving about carrying bottles of liquid in varying colors. He followed Griphook to a bed, then sat when instructed.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" A woman with brown hair streaked with silver approached, wiping her hands on her apron as she offered them a warm smile.

"Mister Potter-Evans-Black is here for a Cleansing Ritual." said Griphook shortly. The woman nodded easily. Harry really was surprised by the name; it was too long to be reasonable.

"We have an empty room right now." She turned to Harry. "My name is Evelyn Pomfrey. Well met."

"I'm Harry, well met to you too." Harry grinned; she laughed.

"Right this way." She led him through a door into a small room with a round pool at the center of it; one wall was entirely covered by a large mirror. Pomfrey gestured to the pool. "You'll need to remove your clothes and step into the pool. Dunk your head under the water, submerging your whole body, and remain under until the Ritual is complete. The water will sting a little, maybe even burn, but once it's over you're done."

"Got it." Harry nodded.

"You'll find new clothes waiting for you upon your exit, and your old ones will be gone. Put them on, and when you're dressed just knock twice on the door and I'll come and fetch you." Pomfrey smiled at him; she then left the room, and Harry was alone once the door clicked shut behind her.

He glanced over at the water curiously, watching the way small bubbles seemed to settle at the bottom without rising. It was magic, he realized happily. After stripping and removing his glasses, Harry stepped into the water and shuddered. It was freezing!

Teeth chattering unhappily, Harry reached the center; the water was about waist deep. Breathing for a moment, Harry shut his eyes and submerged himself completely. He thought he might freeze for a moment, but then he felt a tingling sensation crawl up his body and zing across his skin. The water grew warm around him. Harry flinched at the burning that spread through him all the way to his center.

Then, suddenly, it was over.

Harry surfaced with a gasp, rubbing his eyes unhappily as his damp hair fell down across his forehead. Climbing out, he found a pile of neatly folded clothes where his old ones had been dropped.

As he touched them, resigned that he had no towel, Harry found himself completely and very suddenly dry. He blinked. One second he'd been reaching and dripping wet, the next he was holding his clothes and perfectly dry. Magic, he realized, then laughed brightly. Harry pulled on the clothes and found his Muggle Kit magically in the pocket of his new pants, which was nice. Unfortunately, he could not find his glasses anywhere.

A moment later Harry realized he didn't need them - he could see. His vision was clear, so when he looked across the room he could see his figure in the mirror perfectly clearly. He was a bit entranced by it; he stepped towards the wall with slow movements.

He saw himself in the black pants and a soft button up shirt, collared and fancy-looking. Harry was surprised to see his previously wild and messy black hair was gone, replaced by soft waves that framed his face and fell gently across his forehead. It no longer stuck up in every direction, it instead waved downwards with gravity and was long enough to brush the back of his neck. The strangest thing? Harry's hair was a dark cherry red that framed his green eyes in a way that made him feel kind of pretty.

Studying himself as he walked closer, Harry noticed several smaller differences as well. His skin was no longer slightly honeyed, but a pale white. He'd by no means been brown, nor even close, but before his skin had been slightly tan despite Harry almost never seeing the sun. Now he was pale as milk and his skin looked delicate in a way it hadn't before.

His eyes were the same luminous green, but his nose was smaller and straighter. His cheeks seemed a bit fuller, softer, and he was… taller? Harry wasn't sure, but he felt taller.

Harry turned away from the mirror with a sigh, then knocked on the door twice as instructed. Pomfrey opened the door with a smile.

"Hello, Mister Potter-Evans-Black." greeted Pomfrey. "How do you feel?"

"Odd." said Harry. He said nothing else, unsure how to express what he was feeling. He liked the way he looked, the part of him that now wanted to know the father he hadn't known he had, but a part of him mourned the connection he'd lost with his other dad.

"I'm sure it will take some getting used to." said Pomfrey with a little laugh. Harry nodded with a small grin.

"Mister Potter-Evans-Black." Griphook nodded to him as Harry was escorted back to the bed he'd been on originally. Harry laughed again as he realized he was indeed taller - it was more obvious with the larger height difference between Harry and the goblin.

"Hello again, Griphook." Harry grinned.

"If I may, I'd like to suggest that Mister Potter-Evans-Black have a Health Check while we're here." said Pomfrey to Griphook.

"Very well," said Griphook with a nod. Harry tilted his head.

"What's that?"

"It will show all previous and current ailments impacting your physical health." informed Pomfrey. "If you're injured in any way, or have lingering health issues, we can address them today as well."

“Why?”

“It's pretty standard,” said Pomfrey. “We recommend everyone has a Health Check while they're here.”

"Oh, alright." said Harry agreeably. "What do I do this time?" Pomfrey laughed lightly

"You, dear, do nothing." Pomfrey smiled, "Just take a seat." Harry hopped up onto the bed, crisscross. Pomfrey took out what Harry assumed was a wand, then traced an odd symbol in the air with a blue glow. A moment later she caught a paper that appeared out of thin air.

Harry waited as her eyes scanned the paper; when she looked up at him she looked rather concerned. Harry blinked as she handed it to Griphook without saying a word. His confusion only grew as Griphook sneered at the paper.

"Dear, does your arm hurt?" asked Pomfrey carefully. Harry frowned.

"Yes, but not badly." Vernon grabbed him by the arm when Harry tried to catch one of his letters when they came out the chimney. His arm had been hurting since then.

"It's broken." snapped Griphook. Harry stared at him in confusion.

"You have a small hairline fracture in your upper arm." said Pomfrey, shooting Griphook a glare. "We can fix that with a potion. Same as your concussion."

"I don't have a concussion," said Harry. "I get dizzy when I have a concussion, and I'm not dizzy."

"That's not always a requirement." Pomfrey said gently, "But your head hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, but I get headaches a lot. It's not a problem." He frowned as Pomfrey and Griphook shared a look.

"Your relatives don't treat you well, do they?" prompted Griphook with a scowl.

"They push me around," said Harry. "And Dudley bullies me." Dudley was the one who broke Harry's glasses - punched him in the face.

"That's not…" Pomfrey sighed. "Dear, what they're doing isn't okay - that's abuse."

"No, it's not." Harry shook his head. "Abuse is worse. They just bully me."

"I suppose that's a conversation for a later date." said Pomfrey with a relenting sigh. "Regardless, let's get you those Potions, shall we?"

Pomfrey brought over five different Potions and explained how they addressed a number of things. Apparently one of them was for malnutrition, which made sense since he didn't often get the chance to nick food from the cabinets unless he knew Petunia wouldn't notice, so sometimes he didn't eat a lot; another would fix his concussion, another would fix his arm, plus two others that she said would help soothe old injuries that apparently hadn't healed well; Harry wasn't surprised by anything she told him about his injuries.

The whole thing wasn't very pleasant. Pomfrey warned him, but Harry had to grit his teeth as the Potions worked. The entire time it felt as though he was being reinjured all over again. His head pounded, his arm felt like it was splintering, his ribs were creaking unhappily, one of his ankles was hurting in a way he hadn't felt since he was seven - he fell out of a tree while hiding from Dudley that time and hurt his ankle.

When it was over he gratefully accepted the glass of water Pomfrey offered him, smiling weakly at her. The whole experience was awful and Harry was glad the twenty minutes it took for the Potions to work had gone quickly.

"Now, just to make sure you remain in good health, I suggest you come and see me once a week, if possible, for the next while," said Pomfrey. "Until I decide you're in a safe environment and at no risk of injury."

"Alright," said Harry, smiling. "Thank you very much!"

"You're welcome, dear." She smiled. Harry sent her a backwards wave as Griphook led Harry out of the room.

Harry ended up back in the room with the basin and the desk, taking a seat across from Griphook again. He watched curiously while Griphook rummaged around in the cabinet drawers for something, tilting his head.

"What do we do now?" asked Harry. Griphook looked at him a bit oddly for a moment.

"What would you like to do?" Harry paused, thinking. What did he want? He originally just wanted money so he could apply to Beauxbatons, and maybe a new key to his Vault, but now…

"I suppose… I want to live somewhere else." said Harry hesitantly. "I don't want to go back to my relatives. I don't like it there, and they hate me. Seeing all this, learning about magic, I can't go back there and be happy while I'm stuck away from all this stuff. Is that allowed? To live somewhere else, I mean." Griphook nodded, grinning.

"Well, it looks like you'll want to have a series of Inheritance Tests done."

"What's an Inheritance Test?" asked Harry.

"It will reveal the properties, belongings, and Vaults owed to you through your blood. What was left to you." said Griphook. "Hence the 'Inheritance' bit."

"That makes sense." Harry nodded. "What do I have to do?"

"We shall start with the Vaults in which you've been given access to, and move on from there." said Griphook, then pulled out the blade with a wicked grin. "Bleed. Again."

Dutifully, Harry pricked his wrist with the knife Griphook offered him, let a few crimson drops fall onto the paper, then watched in delight as the goblin snapped his fingers and healed it right up. Harry would never get tired of seeing the magic. Not ever.

Griphook examined the paper as words shimmered into existence, scrawled across the parchment in bright red script, then handed it to Harry carefully.

Name: Henry James Orion Potter-Evans-Black
Age: 11

Maternal Inheritance:
Lily Evans Personal Vault

Paternal Inheritance:
Black Lordship Vault

BA(P) Inheritance:
Potter Lordship Vault
Peverell Family Vault
Peverell Lordship Vault

"What's a Lordship Vault?" Harry asked, looking up for the paper.

"Each powerful Wizarding Family has someone in charge called the 'Head' of the family. That person owns a Lordship, which shows their status." explained Griphook. "You inherited three Lordships, it would seem, which entitles you to the three Vaults containing the money stored there for the family. It's a sort of collective Vault - it belongs to the family as a whole, but is only accessible via the Head."

"Oh." Harry frowned. "So Potter because my Dad is dead, but why Black? My father's alive." Harry decided giving them separate titles would help differentiate his two male parents. "And who's Peverell?"

"The Peverells are a very ancient family, and they have a collective Vault that any descendant can access. That's why you also have a family Vault." said Griphook. "The Potters are descended from the Peverells and it seems you are the Head of the Peverell family entitled to the Lordship because there is no one else in their line left."

"Oh." That sounded like a lot of responsibility.

"Would you like to accept your Lordships?" offered Griphook. "Normally no one under the age of seventeen can have a Lordship, but there is an exception for anyone who is entitled to three or more Lordships."

"That's weird," said Harry.

"It has its purpose." replied Griphook. "A Lord of a family has voting power in the Wizengamot, and when many Lordships fall under one person, they get one vote per Lordship.”

“Oh.” said Harry. “So if someone's got a lot, it's important they accept them as early as possible so they can make their votes count?”

“That's exactly it.” Griphook nodded, clearly pleased. “But when that person is as young as you, typically they have an adult as a placeholder to use their votes until the Lord reaches a more acceptable age. Typically thirteen or fourteen.”

“That makes sense.”

“Now then,” said Griphook. “Would you like to accept your Lordships?"

"Sure!" Harry wasn't sure he knew how to vote or be the Head of a family line, but he liked the idea of being connected to his heritage like that. It made him feel less alone.

"Alright then, please wait." Griphook took the parchment, held it above his head, let go, then snapped. Harry was delighted to see the paper remain floating midair where Griphook let it go, then gasped as it zipped around the room before neatly filing itself away into a nearby cabinet. Then several small boxes in a display case on the wall shook violently; five boxes sprung out towards Griphook before landing on the desk with a small clatter a moment later.

Harry tentatively reached for the nearest box, a black jewelry holder that felt like soft velvet as he opened it. He found himself soon staring at a beautiful black ring with an onyx stone set into the metal. He examined it with a bright smile.

"The Black Lordship?" guessed Harry. Griphook nodded.

"Sirius Black never accepted the Lordship, though he was named the Black Heir in his early childhood," said Griphook. "As his son, you're entitled to the position since he's in Azkaban." Harry hummed his acknowledgement, then refocused on the beautiful ring.

Slipping it on his right ring finger, Harry felt a plume of phantom darkness hit his face. It was like walking through a cloud of smoke, squinting into the dark, feeling the weight in the air. But Harry felt at home in the heavy sensation, not choked or smothered in the slightest, so he smiled into it as the feeling caressed his face; it was like somehow recognizing the echo of his father's magic.

With a grin, Harry picked up the next box. It was a deep cherry red and felt like the smoothest polished wood under his fingertips. Inside was a small ring in a shining silver, thin on one side and thick on the other, a strange symbol carved into the face of the ring. He looked to Griphook for an explanation.

"That's the Peverell Lordship Ring," said Griphook. "That's their family symbol, they call it The Deathly Hallows. Three Peverells are featured in a children's book, actually." Harry smiled at the fact.

Slipping it on his right index finger, Harry felt a rush of ice crawl up his finger and then his arm. He shut his eyes and welcomed the sensation, letting it consume him before it soaked into his chest; he shivered. Slowly the ice eased into a cool sensation skimming across the surface of skin rather soothingly. Beaming, Harry opened his eyes.

"The Potter one is next." Griphook gestured to the next box.

Harry picked it up, smiling at the gently blue painted case, and flipped it open to reveal a gold ring with three blue gems. He turned it over in his hands, feeling a pulsing warmth held within. Harry placed it on his left index finger. He was immediately assaulted by so much heat he almost thought he'd surely catch fire. Embracing it with eyes squeezed shut, Harry sighed when the heat dissipated to a small warm at his core.

When he looked up, Harry paused when he noticed two more boxes were sitting on the desk in front of him.

"What are these two?" asked Harry curiously.

"This one is the Potter Heirship." Griphook gestured to a midnight blue box "Since you have the Lordship, you don't need it. Once you turn seventeen, however, you may name an Heir to claim the ring at any time."

"Okay." Harry looked at the box. He sadly wondered if he'd've been wearing that ring if his Dad was still alive.

"This last one is the Slytherin Heirship Ring." Griphook smirked. Harry blinked.

"What's Slytherin?" asked Harry.

"Salazar Slytherin was one of the four Founders of Hogwarts, thus one of the Hogwarts Houses is named after him," said Griphook, amused. "It appears you somehow have a connection to him; though, I do not know how."

"Is there a way to find out?" asked Harry. "I want to know where it comes from."

“There isn't a way to check where it came from, unfortunately,” said Griphook. "Will you accept the Slytherin Heirship or not?"

Harry looked at the box, silver and green, trying to think. The three he already wore were beautiful, and he had a real reason to wear them. The Slytherin one did not fit with the others. It wasn't Harry's for any discernible reason, which made it difficult for Harry to accept. He didn't know where it came from or whom it came from. So… taking it didn't seem right.

"No, I don't." Harry decided finally. "I'll leave that one be."

"Very well, Lord Potter-Peverell-Black." said Griphook. Harry laughed at the name.

"That's ridiculous to say." He giggled.

"Well, that's the formal way to address you." Griphook grinned. "Shall we move on to your properties?"

"Sure!" Harry nodded. "Do I have to bleed again?"

"Not this time," said Griphook with a laugh. "I have it right here." He rummaged around in a filing cabinet, the one the previous paper flew into, then slipped a parchment out with a hum. "Here we are. See for yourself."

Potter Properties:
Potter Cottage - Unusable
Potter Manor - Unprepared

Peverell Properties:
Peverell Palace - In stasis

Black Properties:
Black Manor - In stasis
Grimmauld Place - Unprepared

"What's stasis?" asked Harry curiously.

"It's a freezing or stopping spell. When something is in stasis it's frozen in time and cannot change in any way. Grass doesn't grow, dust doesn't collect, water doesn't evaporate, nothing happens at all." Harry gaped in awe.

"That's so cool." said Harry brightly, looking down at the paper. "And what's unprepared?" He could guess what unusable meant, so he didn't ask about that.

"The term Unprepared typically means it wasn't placed in Stasis, therefore it deteriorated. This could mean the house is full of dust and cobwebs, or it could mean the place is overrun by plants, or took other damage in some fixable way." said Griphook. "I recommend you place those under stasis, then revisit them when you're old enough to fix them up yourself."

"That makes sense." Harry nodded. "But how do I put them in stasis?"

"You don't, I do." Griphook smirked. "I'll have all the Unprepared ones put into Stasis." He took out a quill and made a note, then nodded. "As far as your two Usable properties in Statis go, which one might interest you the most?"

"Hm." Harry frowned. "What do you think?"

"It's your decision," said Griphook. "But I'd recommend Black Manor. It's smaller than Peverell Palace, which will seem less daunting and more comfortable."

"That works." Harry nodded. "So I can go live there?"

"Yeah, we'll provide you with a Portkey this once, but after that you'll have to rely on Floo."

"What's Floo?"

“It's a form of Wizarding Transportation that allows a person to travel from one registered fireplace to another…”

Griphook's small lesson on Wizarding travel was a bit much for Harry, but he listened best he could. To put it simply: Harry could walk into his fire and come out a different one. But only the ones that are ‘open,’ which are different from private Floos. It was interesting, but Harry's head was already so full of new information he felt his brain was melting.

"Thank you." Harry nodded when Griphook finished. "I suppose that's settled, then."

"Very well," said Griphook. "Now you'd like to make a withdrawal, I presume, to purchase your Hogwarts school supplies?" He raised an eyebrow. “That's why you came back in the first place, correct?"

"Oh, yeah, but not Hogwarts," corrected Harry. "I want to go to Beauxbatons."

"Dumbledore would never allow that," said Griphook, frowning. "He placed you with your Muggle relatives for a reason, there's no doubt he'll deny a transfer. He wants you at Hogwarts."

"That's not fair!" exclaimed Harry in frustration. "It's my choice. There's got to be a way around that!"

"Well, he's no longer your Magical Guardian, seeing as you're emancipated. Anyone with a Lordship is automatically classified as an adult." said Griphook. "Though, he could track you down via your name and physically or magically stop you from leaving Britain."

"What if I changed it?" asked Harry desperately. He didn't want Dumbledore to find him, the Headmaster would probably send Harry back to his relatives and he didn't want that! "Would that help?"

"It would," admitted Griphook slowly. "Changing your name and appearance, plus accepting your Lordships all at once, would make it near impossible for him to distinguish your new identity from your old one."

"Great, so I'll do that." Harry blew out a relieved breath. "How do we do it?"

"Right here in this room." Griphook smirked. "Come." He stood and crossed the room to the basin on the other side of the room, so Harry followed curiously. Griphook handed him a quill and parchment that was lying on a nearby chair against the wall; the parchment had two lines on it. "Write your name on the first line."

"Which name?" asked Harry blankly. "As in just Harry Potter, or the long one I didn't even know I had?"

"Your full name." Griphook grinned, amused. Harry nodded, then scribbled it down.

"I didn't know my name's Henry. I've always been just Harry." said Harry, then paused. "Why am I named Henry anyway?"

"Henry Potter is your great-grandfather," said Griphook. "He went by Harry, as a sort of nickname. It appears they named you after him."

"Oh." murmured Harry. "In that case, maybe I shouldn't change it…" He liked the thought of having a name chosen for him that meant something. He bit his lip.

"Below your legal name, write your changed name." continued Griphook. "Then add one drop of blood and place the paper in the basin." Harry simply nodded.

A new name. One all for himself, to hide, to leave the famous 'Harry Potter' behind him, to start a new life fresh. Harry fidgeted as he thought. He hoped Griphook wasn't growing impatient, but Harry wasn't sure how to choose. Carefully, indecisively, he wrote down a name.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pricked his wrist with the offered knife, added the single drop of blood to the paper, then placed the paper in the basin as Griphook healed the pinprick wound.

To Harry's surprise, as soon as the paper left his hand the basin immediately caught on fire; Harry stepped back with a gasp as warmth wafted into his face with a searing heat. Griphook cackled a little. Harry just watched in awe as the flames burned in front of him. After a moment the flames died, a piece of paper was all that remained. Hesitantly, Harry picked it up. There was only one name - the other burned off.

Henry Evan Black

"An unexpected choice." said Griphook, peering at the paper. “Why that name?”

"A name for each family." whispered Harry with a tiny smile. "So I always remember." It just felt right.

"Very well." Griphook nodded. "Now then, Lord Henry Evan Black, let's get you a new key to your Vaults and that Portkey to Black Manor. Shall we?" Harry took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Let's."