Chapter Text
Diagon Alley in early August smelled like warm stone and far too many people who seemed to have forgotten their deodorant. Sunlight pooled thickly between crooked buildings, clinging to shop windows and heating the cobblestones until the air shimmered. Harry Potter moved through it unnoticed, which was precisely the way he preferred it today.
Considering the Prophet was still running headlines like *THE CHOSEN ONE: HAS HE TOLD US EVERYTHING?*
Well, anonymity was a luxury he could scarcely afford anymore.
He tugged the hood of his jumper a little lower as he exited Flourish and Blotts, armed with nothing more exciting than a stack of new schoolbooks, a roll of parchment, and the lingering ache of being freshly sixteen and exhausted. Tom at the Leaky Cauldron had given him a room for the remainder of the summer, and Harry had accepted gratefully. Anything was better than Privet Drive, where the Dursleys kept flinching every time Harry breathed.
He didn’t know what exactly he expected from this summer. Peace, maybe? Quiet? A sense that the world wasn’t waiting for him to lose or win or die?
He should have known better.
“**Heir Potter.**”
Harry stopped mid-step.
Nobody called him that. Almost no one even acknowledged that the Potters were old magic, mostly because nobody had bothered to *ask*. Most wizards assumed James Potter had sprung into existence as a prank-loving Gryffindor with messy hair and not an entire storied lineage. Most wizards, except purebloods that is.
Harry turned, scanning the flow of passersby, until pale eyes and dark hair appeared from the shade of a narrow alcove between shops.
Theodore Nott, a Slytherin that Harry had hardly even spoken to before, stepped forward, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, posture immaculate, as if the summer heat had nothing on him.
Of all the people Harry expected to approach him in Diagon Alley, **Theodore Nott** ranked somewhere between “a boggart shaped like Snape” and “Dobby wielding a chainsaw.”
“…Nott?” Harry asked cautiously.
Theo inclined his head just so, the movement elegant in a way that screamed raised-with-tutors-in-a-manor. “Good afternoon.”
His tone was polite. Neutral. Polished in the way Slytherins often were. But the use of *Heir Potter* lingered like a dropped stone in Harry’s thoughts.
“You do know it’s summer, right?” Harry said, words dry. “We’re allowed to pretend we don’t know each other.”
A faint smile ghosted across Theo’s mouth. “I don’t tend to pretend very often.” His eyes tracked Harry deliberately. “May I speak with you? Privately.”
Harry stiffened. “If this is about Malfoy-”
“It isn’t.”
“Or Voldemort-”
“It isn’t that either.”
“Or-”
Theo huffed a soft, impatient exhale. “Potter. I’m not here to threaten you, hex you, or lure you into a dark corner for the Dark Lord. If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t start with your *formal* title.”
Harry reluctantly admitted to himself that that was a fair point.
Harry glanced around. The alley was crowded and loud, but an odd hush seemed to wrap around the alcove where Theo had been waiting, intentional or just a coincidence, Harry wasn’t sure.
He gestured stiffly. “Fine. Talk.”
Theo stepped closer, but not too close, a respectful distance, Harry noted. Slytherins usually didn’t care about such things. “Do you know,” Theo said lightly, “that the Potter line holds *two* dormant seats on the Wizengamot?”
Harry blinked. “The what?”
Theo tilted his head. “So that’s a no.”
“Dumbledore never mentioned-”
“He wouldn’t have.” Something sharp and cold slipped beneath Theo’s tone, making Harry’s smochat twist into knots.
Harry swallowed. “What do you want?”
“To help you,” Theo said simply. “Because regardless of who your friends are… you’re alone in our world. And I don’t think you should be.”
That statement felt like someone hitting him directly on a bruise.
Harry stared blankly. Theo’s expression didn’t waver.
“Why?” Harry whispered.
Theo shrugged one shoulder. “Because *you* are the only Potter left. And whatever your guardian has told you, our world is political, old, and vicious. You’re standing in the middle of a battlefield without armour. To put it simply, you’re a chess piece, not the one playing the game.”
Harry didn’t breathe for a moment.
Theo continued, quietly, “And because I notice things. For example: the Potter heirship ring that you never wear.”
Harry instinctively squeezed his fists.
“What are you talking about? What heirship ring?” Harry demanded.
“The ring you should have gotten when you claimed your heirship,” Theo said, his tone pulsed, bitter and soft at the same time. “Some of us don’t want to follow the path laid out for us. I never figured you would be one of those people.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Harry saw something familiar: fear, quiet defiance, and the hatred of a destiny someone else had written.
Harry exhaled, and after a moment of tense silence, spoke up. “You said you wanted to talk privately. Why?”
Theo lifted his chin slightly. “Because I think you should go to Gringotts. And I think you should ask for a full inheritance test.”
Harry blinked. “A what?”
“One that reveals every dormant vault, every line tied to your blood, every title you were never told about.”
Harry’s heart began beating too fast.
Theo watched him, calm as still water. “You deserve to know the truth about your family. All of it.”
Something inside Harry twisted painfully.
For so long, he’d assumed his parents simply hadn’t left that much behind. That the Potters were comfortable but not ancient. That Dumbledore, *who’d had access to everything,* would have told him if there were things he needed to know.
Harry wasn’t sure if he whispered or breathed the next words. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly,” Theo said.
Another beat of silence stretched between them.
“…Will you come with me?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.
Theo’s eyebrows lifted, as though he hadn’t expected that. Slowly, he nodded. “If you want me to.”
Harry’s stomach twisted. “Yeah. I… think I do.”
Theo’s expression softened, not smug, not triumphant, but something gentler. “Then let’s go.”
And just like that, Harry fell into step beside a boy he’d barely spoken to for five years, heading toward the white marble steps of Gringotts with dread curling tight in his gut.
But also, if he was honest with himself, a fragile, flickering hope.
*Maybe this summer would change everything.*
---
Theo kept a careful two steps behind Harry as they approached the bank, hands still tucked into his pockets. He wasn’t sure why Potter had asked him to come, or why the sound of it had made something in him unclench.
But he knew one thing with absolute clarity:
Dumbledore would never willingly give Potter power.
And Nott Senior would do much worse if he heard about Theo helping him.
If Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the boy prophesied, the boy burdened with more than any sixteen-year-old should carry, was going into that bank, he wasn’t going alone.
Theodore Nott was done watching the world burn from the sidelines. He wanted to participate.
---
They made it to the steps when someone barreled into Harry’s shoulder.
“Oi! Watch it!”
Harry twisted and locked eyes with a furious witch in a violently purple cloak.
Tonks.
Her hair was bubblegum pink today, bob short, and her eyes widened when she recognised him.#
“Harry? Wotcher! Sorry, couldn’t see my own feet, tripped over a bloody coin-”
Theo straightened sharply beside Harry.
Tonks looked between them, mouth twitching. “You two friends now?”
Harry flushed. “Uh- Something like that.”
Theo gave her a perfectly neutral nod. “Auror Tonks.”
“Oh Merlin, don’t call me that, it makes me sound like I know what I’m doing.”
Her brightness hid something shadowed beneath. Harry wondered if he would soon feel the same.
Before she could ask more, he said quickly, “We’re going to Gringotts.”
Tonks lifted a brow. “Everything all right?”
No. Nothing was all right. But Harry forced a smile that held like thin glass. “I’ll be fine.”
Tonks didn’t believe him; he saw it in her eyes, but she let him go nonetheless.
“Be careful,” she said softly.
Harry nodded once, then followed Theo up the steps as the marble doors loomed overhead.
Whatever waited inside would change his life.
Harry could feel it in his bones.
And for the first time in a very long time, he felt almost afraid of the truth.