Ingrata Patria
Summary: He was their supposed "savior", the Boy-Who-Lived that saved them from the greatest Dark Lord in the Twentieth Century. He was the scion of the light, the "Golden Boy" that would be the shield against the dark forces. Every child in the Wizarding World knew his name. And yet, he was unceremoniously dumped on a doorstep of his magic-hating mundane relatives. Now, after his third year, the consequences of that fateful decision to leave him with the Dursleys will finally come to fruition and the true Harry Potter emerges.
AN: 9/13/2015. I do not own Harry Potter, for my name is not Money Bags McGee…I mean J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One: Shattered Mask
"Ingrata patria, ne ossa quidem habebis." (Ungrateful fatherland, you will not even have my bones.)
Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus
Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey
Rage.
Pure, unrelenting rage roared through his very veins as he walked through the front door of his most loathed domicile. Hadrian "Harry" Potter barely said a word to his silently apoplectic portly Uncle Vernon on the way back from King's Cross and continued to do so on his way back up to his small bedroom. The only positive of the entire day so far, at least in Harry's eyes, was that his "dear" uncle recognized his nephew's look, one that remarkably looked like Petunia's when he would be banished to the couch, which was not a common occurrence. But, the look was enough to cause Vernon's displeasure to swiftly morph into fear, as he also remained wisely silent for the car ride back to Surrey.
Harry swiftly entered his room and quietly closed the door. Looking around, he deposited his belongings unceremoniously on the floor, flopped down on the bed face first, and proceeded to roar into his pillow with fury.
You see, Harry Potter was not a happy person. As a matter of fact, he was about the opposite of happy. Living in a situation in which he was treated lower than trash did not particularly prepare him for the sheer shock of being the borderline messianic figure the Wizarding World thought he was. Finding out that he was a beloved figure while realizing that he endured an abusive home created a burning hate inside the then eleven year-old boy; a smoldering fury towards the world that deemed him a hero and then abandoned him in Surrey to those…people.
Harry was a very smart boy, smarter than many assumed he was. He knew that it was not completely fair to judge the Wizarding World like that solely based on a first impression. So, he decided to bury his hatred underneath a veneer of naivety and wonder, becoming the so-called "Golden Boy" that so many expected (although there were comments on how scrawny he was). It did not stay buried for long.
While his second year was the last straw with the Heir of Slytherin nonsense, he began to realize that people just did see Harry Potter, but they only saw what they wanted to see in him. Many people he even tried to befriend, such as Slytherin ice princess Daphne Greengrass, basically brushed him off because he was assumed to be Dumbledore's stooge (a shame because he had a crush on her), which rankled him deeply. The very thought of him being utterly loyal to Albus Dumbledore disgusted Harry to no end. Much of the boy's misery could be laid at the Headmaster's feet and Harry was by no means a stupid person, he saw what the man intended from the get go.
Of course, there were some genuine bits of Harry's personality that appeared in his mask. He genuinely considered Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger his friends, or at least he tried. He knew that they reported to Dumbledore, who was able to fool them into believing that he was concerned about Harry's well-being and he could accept that they were not perfect. Unfortunately, Ron's thinly-veiled jealousy was something that Harry personally could not stand as he found it quite despicable.
Other than that, it seemed that everyone was dead set on using Harry in some way or finding any sort of reason to find fault with him. With what happened this past year along with realizing the true corrupt nature of the world he had entered, Harry's mask could no longer hold against the tide of absolute hatred and rage towards the Wizarding World that he was completely silent and brooding during the entire train ride back, glaring fiercely at anyone who dared make eye contact. They, or at least Dumbledore, knew that he was treated like trash and obviously did not care unless it affected his ability to become their sycophant.
Not anymore.
No more will Harry Potter be anyone's tool. No more will he allow them, especially Voldemort, walk all over him. Revenge, as Shakespeare said, was a dish best served cold. And the one he wanted most was dear Tom Riddle, as he was the one who placed him in this situation in the first place. There was a reason the Sorting Hat wanted to put Harry in Slytherin.
'They will realize that before the end.'
Harry could only smile maliciously at that last thought.
Gringotts Bank, London
Vault Master Ragnok of Gringotts Bank could not help but shudder slightly at the cold, penetrating emerald stare of the young boy sitting across from him. 'Those eyes should not belong to a child, much less Harry Potter of all people.' Ragnok mused as the dark haired boy continued to stare down the goblin with an odd furious respect, something that surprised the ancient vault master.
To be honest, Ragnok did not expect much of Harry Potter. At first, he expected someone who let his fame get to his head, groomed for greatness by the great Albus Dumbledore. After returning to the wizarding world, the Vault Master was greatly surprised by how clueless the boy seemed and also somewhat disturbed by how thin he looked. Of course, he honestly did not care that much. Now, with just a glance at the boy sitting across from him, Ragnok felt an emotion he had not felt in a very long time.
Fear.
A hard, veteran goblin warrior and banker such as himself felt fear when his eyes connected with the hard emerald ones belonging to his guest. This was when he realized that the star-struck and slightly emaciated boy who entered the bank when he was eleven was only a clever façade. Gazing upon the true Harry Potter, Ragnok felt the pure rage and power roll off of the boy.
"Greetings, Vault Master."
The greeting was cordial, but tight. Ragnok could immediately feel the sheer void of trust in his voice.
"Mr. Potter, it is…unusual for a patron of this bank to request such an urgent meeting with me." Ragnok answered him, keeping his tone even and slightly condescending while also treading carefully.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Truly?"
The goblin nodded, narrowing his eyes as he did so. "Yes. And I would ask, out of respect, that you consider adjusting your tone when speaking with me. My patience is not unlimited." He ended with a growl.
Harry nodded, his demeanor loosening much to the goblin's initial confusion. "Forgive me Vault Master. I meant no disrespect. I merely was curious."
Thankfully, Ragnok's expression did not betray the surprise he felt. 'The boy was testing me? Ah, I see. He wants to know whether or not I can be trusted with his secrets.'
"See that you do not. Now, what was so urgent that you needed to speak with me?"
Harry nodded. "I will get straight to the point. Well, first I would like to know if I was supposed to receive any documentation as to the status of my vault."
Ragnok's eyes narrowed once again. "I do not appreciate my time being wasted. The moment you turned eleven, you have received quarterly statements from this bank in regards to your accounts."
Harry's eyes widened in shock. "I have not received nor viewed any documentation of that regard."
"Mr. Potter, your statements go to your magical guardian who in turn, as an heir of an Ancient and Most Noble House, is supposed to show you them once you turn the age of nine."
Ragnok noticed Harry's face becoming more and more confused with every word, which was something that disturbed him. 'Had his guardians not shown him?' The goblin continued, "Surely you must have learned this in the usual Wizarding Culture seminar in your first year. They give a different one for heirs of noble families, but such basic information should have been covered."
Of all the expressions he expected to see on the boy's face, sheer horror was not one of them. "Wizarding Culture seminar? I know that in Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall gather the muggle-borns and some of the half-bloods for a few private meetings to give them a crash course, but I do not know what it was for. I do not recall their being a Wizarding Culture seminar."
Harry then gritted his teeth in sheer anger. "Who pray tell is my magical guardian?"
Ragnok could not get over his shock at how ignorant Harry Potter was. No, ignorant was not the proper word. It was almost like he was being deliberately sabotaged…
The Vault Master looked at Harry's file in realization, eyeing the name written in loopy cursive where it stated his magical guardian. His fear returned as he looked up at the boy whose face would have made Vernon Dursley proud. "Albus Dumbledore."
Harry's magic flared wildly, creating a visible aura as he roared in pure rage and pain, letting his feelings of pure betrayal be known as the Vault Master's office shook violently. A few frantic goblin guards burst in, brandishing wicked polearms at the infuriated youth, but Ragnok waved them down. The old goblin king was not fond of the Hogwarts Headmaster and he definitely did not envy the man. The boy's sheer power was almost immeasurable (Eternal: It's over NINE THOUSAND! Sorry, it had to be done.).
Harry eventually pulled himself together. "I see. It seems that my suspicions were…" he clenched his fists, "…correct."
He then looked up at Ragnok, who grimly nodded. "I would like to request a full audit of my assets to ensure that there have been no…unauthorized withdrawals. In the meantime, I would like to ask a few questions regarding goblin law in regards to rights of conquest…"
"So as it stands, I am now Heir of Salazar Slytherin, owner of everything belonging to Tom Marvolo Riddle, and apparently now am able to claim the vaults of every Death Eater that has taken the Dark Mark?" Harry asked, his face betraying no emotion.
Ragnok gave the boy a brutal smile. "Because they willingly marked themselves as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's property, all of their assets became his and therefore, yours."
Harry slowly began to smirk. His smirk became a smile as he began to break out in laughter.
Of course, his laughter died down after receiving the audit of his vaults.
Ragnok, after glancing down at the audit, sighed. "It seems that no substantial sum was removed from any of your various vaults and no artifacts were removed after that Halloween."
The boy began to sag in relief when he looked at Ragnok's face. "But?"
Ragnok gave the boy a grave look. "Two strongboxes were removed shortly after your parents' death by your claimed magical guardian. One of them, from your mother's vault, contained a mysterious artifact of which its identity was not disclosed. The other one…"
"What was in the other one?" Harry asked, knowing he would dread the answer.
"I must ask that you please restrain yourself, Heir Potter. The contents of the other strongbox contain your parents' respective wills, some personal effects, diaries, journals, and apparently vials of pensieve memories you were supposed to receive at age seven." Ragnok finished, bracing for the inevitable explosion.
Harry's face betrayed none of the rage that nearly came to the surface. "Th-thank you, Vault Master, for informing me."
The goblin released the breath he was holding. "Heir Potter, we will endeavor to recover the missing strongboxes that were unlawfully taken from you, but…"
"This is Albus Dumbledore we are dealing with. Thank you for your honesty." Harry paused. "There are not many people in this magical world that I can trust. This world…has betrayed me in so many ways. I ask that you do not do the same Lord Ragnok."
Ragnok nodded in the affirmative. "I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you, but you are a strong lad and a Potter. You will endure."
"Thank you. May your coffers be forever full."
The goblin grinned heartily at the ancient greeting. "And may your enemies tremble before you, Lord Potter. I must ask though, will you act on this information now?"
Harry turned towards the door. "No. I cannot tip my hand now. I realize that since he is not dead, he will be close to finding a way to return, especially with my luck. Besides, I do not want to just defeat him. That will not be satisfactory enough. His followers will just fall back into the woodwork and nothing will ever change. So you see Vault Master, I am not going to just defeat him," Harry turned to the goblin and gave a sinister smile, "I'm going to destroy everything he values, everything he builds, and everything he accomplishes…
…then he will have my permission to die."
Ragnok's guffaws were heard throughout the bank, causing many of the goblins to shiver at what could have amused their king.
AN: Annnndddd done! Wow, I have never written such a darker turn for any character before. However, after reading over many stories, including one named An de Souffrance by DimensionalTraveller009 and just doing some browsing of other stories, this story came about. Updates will NOT be regular. I have the attention span of a rodent. Also, I would like some reviews. It shows that people actually read the story and I would definitely like some feedback. Pairing undecided, although I have one in mind. This story is primarily Wizarding World bashing in general. It will not be completely unrealistic though. It's very easy to bash the canon material after all. There will be Dumbledore bashing, though it's moderate...maybe. Harry will be no friend to him. Slight Ron bashing because he does in fact have problems that need to be addressed. No other Weasley bashing, except for Percy. I can hear the displeasure from here. If Molly Weasley, albeit a harridan, was a gold digging, heartless mother than many portray her as, why was one of her boggart images of a dead Harry? Suck on that bashers.
Review! Flamers will receive a broken back Knightfall style courtesy of Harry, who will be played tonight by the terrorist, Bane!
PEACE!