Chapter Text
Unlike canon, Hagrid is down sick with a high fever, so Dumbledore sends the next best option.
Filius Flitwick doesn’t bother knocking down the shack’s door. Instead, he uses Alohomora on it. He doesn’t twist the shotgun in a pretzel. Instead, he uses Expelliarmus and Accio, then transfigures it into a chair his size and takes a seat.
Normally, he would be polite, but really, these muggles pointed a weapon at him and have been interfering with mail. Not to mention… He looks Harry Potter up and down and decides he doesn’t like his waifish look and the absolutely terrible looking clothing in contrast to the nicer clothing the muggles are wearing.
“Hello, Mr. Potter. It seems you haven’t been getting your mail. I am Filius Flitwick, a teacher at-”
“I FORBID YOU FROM TELLING HIM! WE SWORE WE’D STAMP THAT FREAKISHNESS OUT OF HIM! HE’S GOING TO STONEWALL HIGH!” the fat muggle man shouts, apparently rage overriding his temporary fear as he starts towards Filius, thinking to stop him physically.
Filius sighs. “Stupefy.”
The muggle woman starts screaming and the boy starts wailing.
He sighs again. “Langlock.”
They still make some noise, of course, but it’s hard to make a racket when one’s tongue is stuck to the roof of their mouth. The woman herds the fattest child he’s ever seen into the other room and slams the rickety door.
“Now, Mr. Potter. As I was saying, I’ve brought your Hogwarts letter and I will take you shopping for your things in the morning. The broom ride here was downright miserable. I brought an extra broom, so we can fly back to shore before taking the Knight Bus. Miserable thing that it is, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“Um. Sir. What is Hogwarts? And why is it sending me letters? And how did it know I was living in the cupboard before they moved me to Dudley’s second bedroom?”
Filius blinks a few times, genuinely taken aback. “Hogwarts is a magic school. Your parents paid for your entire schooling when you were born. They, of course, will have arranged a vault for school expenses until you are of age to access the family vaults. The cupboard under the stairs, you say?”
“Magic isn’t real. Aunt Petunia says so.”
He pauses. “I’m afraid your aunt has knowingly lied to you. I have done magic in front of you, have I not? I’m sure you’ve had unusual things happen around you when your emotions are running high. Things that cannot be explained away.”
“How were my parents able to pay for a school? Aunt Petunia says they were worthless drunks that died in a car accident.”
A trickle of rage flows through Filius’ veins.
“Perhaps your aunt fears magic so much that she made up lies to soothe herself, then. Your parents were noble wixen, war heroes and definitely not worthless, penniless drunks who died in a car accident. They were killed by an evil wizard. Why he targeted them, I do not know. Then he tried to kill you and it simply didn’t work and he either died instead or disappeared. I suspect your parents prepared a protective ritual for you and his attempt to kill you, triggered it. You are the only known survivor of the Killing Curse,” he says as calmly as he can.
“Did you kill Uncle Vernon?”
“No, I merely stunned him.”
The boy looks disappointed for a split second, which only confirms Filius’ growing certainty that the muggles do not treat him right. “Oh.”
“Right.” Filius stands up and vanishes the gun/chair and then transfigures the sagging, moth-eaten sofa into a large, fluffy bed. “Into bed with you. I hope you don’t mind sharing.”
It’s probably not the done thing to share a bed with a student, but needs must. Neither of them will be sleeping on the filthy floor.
Harry Potter gives him and the bed wide-eyed glances, then timidly crawls into bed.
Filius crawls in the other side. They’re both small, so there’s a fair amount of space between them, nearly two feet. “Goodnight, Mr. Potter.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
~
In the morning, Professor Flitwick pulls sandwiches out of a small bag that definitely shouldn’t have fit so much into it and shares with Harry. Then he teaches Harry how to make a broomstick obey him. Flying is brilliant! Harry wishes they could fly the entire way.
Unfortunately, Professor Flitwick insists that they’d be breaking the Statute of Secrecy, so they dismount when they get to the shore and he puts the brooms away. Then he pulls out his wand and summons a bus that BANGS loudly into existence in front of them. He pays their fare and they go to find seats. The seats are easy chairs though! And they slide around with every jolt as the bus jigs and jags around buildings and people, the view outside randomly changing to entirely different scenery now and then.
They’re dropped off outside a dingy pub called the Leaky Cauldron that people’s eyes seem to slide right past. Then they go inside and Harry can’t stop looking at the people. They’re dressed so oddly! And that one witch is clearly smoking a pipe.
“Hey, Flitwick. Got a muggleborn with you today?” the toothless barkeeper asks.
“Something like that, Tom.” Professor Flitwick doesn’t stop to talk, which Harry thinks is a shame. He’d have liked to look longer.
Instead, Professor Flitwick takes him out back to a small alley, then pulls out his wand again and says, “Now, pay attention. You tap these specific bricks in this order to open the entrance to Diagon Alley.”
Harry pays close attention. Then the wall rolls back like a scroll and he follows the professor into absolute madness. There are so many new and interesting things that he can’t stop looking and the professor has to urge him along several times until they get to a large bank.
“A few things before we go inside, Mr. Potter.”
He focuses on the professor at his serious tone.
“We are about to deal with goblins, the bankers of the wizarding world. They are a warrior race and to be respected. Maintain eye contact when speaking to them. You may dip your head to indicate respect, but don’t overdo it. Goblins take their honor and profession very seriously. Never try to steal from them or lie to them. Refer to them by the name they offer you rather than using ‘sir’ or ‘mister’. Those are human addresses and while they understand that the terms indicate respect, they think it’s funny because they don’t use them and they will respect you less for not understanding that. Do you understand?” Professor Flitwick explains gravely.
“Meet their eyes, nod to be respectful, use their names, don’t steal or lie,” he repeats dutifully.
“Very good.”
They walk past guards who give the slightest nods at Professor Flitwick, who nods back.
Harry follows his example.
Inside, they find a teller without a line and approach.
The teller sneers at them. “How can I help you gentlemen today?”
“We’d like to speak with Mr. Potter’s account manager,” the professor says.
The goblin looks surprised, then eyes Harry, who gives him a little nod. “Very well. Griphook! See these two to the Potter Account Manager.”
The new goblin looks younger and just gestures for them to follow rather than speaking. He leads them to a door that says Baneclaw, Snr. Account Manager and ushers them inside before stepping out and closing the door firmly.
An older, well-dressed goblin is sitting at the large desk. “Filius. And presumably Mr. Potter. I will have to do a blood test before I can consent to discuss the Potter accounts.”
“Baneclaw.” Professor Flitwick gives a little nod and looks at Harry. “It will just be a little prick. Shouldn’t hurt at all.”
“Okay,” Harry says nervously.
Baneclaw pulls out what looks like a parchment roll rather than paper and a strange looking pale blue stone with a dip in the middle and sets the parchment in front of him and the stone on top of it. “Place your index finger in the dip and hold it there until the parchment stops filling out.”
Harry obeys. There’s a tiny pinprick that barely even hurts for a second before writing starts scrolling across the parchment.
“Alright. You may remove your finger,” Baneclaw finally says.
He pulls his hand back and inspects his finger. There’s a tiny dot of red blood but it’s already stopped bleeding.
Baneclaw uses a knife to cut the filled part of the parchment off and then inspects it before handing it over. “Hm. I’m satisfied that you are the Potter Heir, Mr. Potter. And the Black Heir as well. Surprising. Very well, what did you want to discuss today?”
Inheritance Test
Name: Habranthus ‘Harry’ James Potter-Black, Heir Potter, Heir Black
Mother: Lily Ann Potter nee Evans
Father: James Monty Potter, Lord Potter
Vaults:
Potter Family Vault VN# 132
James Monty Potter, personal vault VN# 347,891
Potter Heir Vault VN# 133
Lily Ann Potter, personal vault VN# 421,004
Peverell Family vault VN# 12
Peverell Heir vault VN# 13
Black Heir vault VN# 124
Habranthus James Potter-Black, personal vault VN# 435,009
Harry Potter, mail vault VN# 435,513
Magical Inheritances:
Parseltongue – Maternal inheritance
Aptitude for battle magic – Paternal inheritance
Aptitude for rituals – Maternal inheritance
Aptitude for transfiguration – Paternal inheritance
Aptitude for charms – Maternal inheritance
Aptitude for potions – Maternal inheritance; Potter Inheritance
Aptitude for dark magic – Maternal inheritance; Peverell inheritance
Aptitude for grey magic – Potter inheritance
Aptitude for light magic – Side effect of ritual done at age 1
Ritual protection – Will break at majority
Cursed scar – Requires medical diagnosis to treat
Blocks and bindings:
2% core block – placed at 6 months
12% core block – placed at 1 year
Unidentified spell bindings – Requires medical diagnosis to remove
Professor Flitwick is leaning over, reading at the same time Harry does, and he seems to finish a little faster. “That’s concerning. I request a thorough medical diagnosis for Heir Potter. After he gets his Heir ring, of course.”
Harry gives him a startled look. “I have to see a doctor?”
“A Healer. And yes, I think it would be wise,” the professor confirms.
“Very well,” Baneclaw says after a moment. He gets up and unlocks a set of shelves on the wall and retrieves a small box. “This is the Potter Heir ring. Place it on the ring finger of the hand you do not write with. This particular ring will give you a small shock to warn you if there are potions or poisons in your food or if someone attempts to cast a coercion type spell on you and will thwart legilimancy, which is mind reading, if you are unaware.”
Harry opens the box and pulls out a slim, black metal ring with a narrow gold inset circle on the top. He slips it on his finger and can feel the magic on it. It feels like protection.
“Filius, you know where the Healing Quarter is. You can take him yourself.”
Professor Flitwick rises. “Thank you, Baneclaw. May your enemies die in despair.”
“May your gold ever flow,” Baneclaw replies.
He scrambles for something to say, since it seems to be the polite thing to do. “Thank you, Baneclaw. May your money always be gold.”
Baneclaw blinks at him, then gives a menacing grin. “May your enemies die screaming, young heir.”
Er. Okay? Does that mean Dudley? And his little gang?
He follows the professor down lots of halls until they come a wide, well lit room, that contains beds with curtains around them. They’re met by the first female goblin he’s seen.
“Healer Amethyst. I need a full medical workup done on Mr. Potter here. He seems to have some blocks, bindings and a cursed scar that needs to be treated.”
“Professor Filius. I see. Mr. Potter, follow me.”
She leads him to one of the beds and pulls the curtains closed to give them privacy. “Lay on the bed and try to hold still.”
He gets on the bed carefully.
Healer Amethyst leaves for a moment and comes back with a wheeled stand that holds a roll of parchment. Then she does something that feels like magic and the parchment starts unrolling, filling with writing. When it stops, she cuts it off, then peruses it, expression growing darker as she reads.
“I see. Are you a particularly active child, Mr. Potter?”
“Er, I run from my cousin a lot and do a lot of chores around the house. Does that count?” he says uncertainly.
Her frown deepens, but she doesn’t comment on it further. “The blocks are easily removed, though I do not understand the reason for the larger one. The smaller one is typically used on young wixen having a high amount of accidental magic as a way to keep them from accidentally exhausting their magic. The bindings are considerably more concerning, as is the malnutrition, though that too is easily dealt with. The biggest concern I have is that the ‘cursed scar’ is actually a horcrux and while isolated, removing it will leave a temporary gap in his soul that will require binding his magic as a protective barrier for his soul for a year to prevent issues while it heals.”
Professor Flitwick curses vividly. Harry didn’t know curses like that existed.
“Er, does that mean I can’t go to Hogwarts this year?” he asks worriedly.
“No, it does not. What it does mean is that you’ll be restricted to theory classes, broom riding and potions,” the professor reassures him. “If you consent to have it removed, that is. I would recommend it. Horcruxes are among the blackest of magics, and unlike dark magics, black magics are actively evil. It will do you no good to keep it and I’m afraid I know whose it is, which means Voldemort isn’t dead after all.”
He thinks about that and then thinks about if not having magic will make it harder to get away from Dudley in a pinch. “Er. Do I have to go back to my relatives while its bound?”
The healer and the professor exchange glances. “Well, Dumbledore did say something about strong wards on your relatives’ house, but the goblin nation’s wards are top notch. I believe my clan will agree to harbor you until time for Hogwarts to start and next summer.”
Harry blinks at him and finally realizes why the goblins might know the professor’s name. “You’re a goblin?”
“Half.” The professor gives a slight smile. “I don’t have a knack for goblin magics or interest in the typical professions, so I followed in my father’s footsteps instead.”
The healer rolls her eyes. “You just wanted a wand.”
Professor Flitwick grins and it’s sharper than a fully human smile. “And I got one. What is your concern about the bindings?”
“There’s an obedience compulsion on him, a blood tied illusion on his looks, a compulsion to induce lack of attention and a compulsion on something opinion related, which doesn’t quite make sense to me, but must be important to the caster,” she says, handing him the list.
The professor scans lightly over it until he gets to the relevant section, then he starts frowning as he reads. When he gets to the end of whatever he’s reading, he curses again. “This is meant to predispose his attitudes to joining Gryffindor and dissuade him from joining Slytherin. What is Albus playing at? There’s no one else who would’ve cast these and I’m having trouble believing that he would stoop that low or for what purpose he would. Remove all the bindings. Except- Harry, do you want the blood tied illusion removed? You would look different.”
“Er. Would I keep my scar?”
For some reason that amuses the professor. “Do you want to?”
“Yes!”
“I do not believe even removing the horcrux would remove the scar, Mr. Potter,” Healer Amethyst answers. “The scar is not an illusion.”
“Okay. Then take off the illusion, please. I want to see what I look like for real,” he requests.