Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, Owen Deathstalker or anyone else I may steal my ideas from in the future.
It had been one of those weeks. There's your average week where all you do is go about your normal routine: sleep eat work school play. Then there's those weeks where you wake up on Monday thinking it's just another mediocre week, then on Friday you find yourself in Africa half naked with nothing but pocket lint and 5 dollars wondering how the hell you ended up in a third world country in the middle of a civil war without your passport yet still retaining that school ID from freshmen year you tried to bury because of the funny looking haircut you got from that pretty girl who aspired to become a hairdresser that you had a crush on.
For 11 year old Harry Potter, it had been one of those weeks. Monday had left him with nothing to look forward to other then the fact that he was going to a low rate middle school with a retarded looking uniform a one eyed leper homeless nun could tell was a fake his dear aunt Petunia had dyed from Dudley's old castoffs. And then the letter had come, a mysterious invitation addressed to Harry that had started off a chain of events that later led them to fleeing the mail filled home on Private drive onto a deserted shack in the middle of the ocean.
Harry wasn't exactly half naked in Africa, but currently he was riding in a mining cart hurtling at over freeway speed limit next to a goblin, a squat ugly little lizardtoid with a permanent scowl fixed on a face a mother couldn't love, in front of a motion sick giant that had rescued him from the clutches of the Dursleys. But hey, it was only Thursday, and who knows, by Friday our young hero may very well be in Africa without his shirt on.
Turning slightly so that he faced the goblin, Harry shouted over the rushing wind to get the goblin's attention. "How far down are we?"
"Let's just say Mr. Potter, if you were to fall off this cart and survive, you won't be finding your way to the surface any time soon."
If possible, Hagrid turned an even queerer shade of green. If the man were to puke, or blow chunks if you prefer, most likely Harry and the goblin would find themselves swimming in a cart full of bile and whatever Hagrid had eaten the night before. Nasty thought.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity of twists and turns and even backing up twice, the rickety cart lurched to a halt in front of a majestic looking iron door that wouldn't have looked out of place in the Queen's palace, guarding the entryway to the WC. The giant man behind Harry made a strange gurgling noise before diving to the side of the cart and releasing the contents of his stomach onto the tracks. When a normal man hurled, you would heard odd retching noises and disgusting splatter followed by gasping noises as the poor bastard tried to catch his breath. Hagrid made a noise similar to toilet being flushed, and followed up with the unpleasant stomach turning sound of a fire hose splattering chunky stew onto concrete. It was only through sheer willpower that Harry and the goblin did not follow Hagrid's example and dive over the to the side of the cart.
Hastily exiting the transport so as to avoid having to be so near the unpleasant noise Hagrid was making, Harry and the goblin hurried toward the locked door, both trying to think pleasant thoughts and ignoring the dying animal sound the giant man they had left behind was currently making.
The goblin stepped forward as they approached the door and snapped his long fingers, causing the nearby torches to light up with a cheery flame.
"Key please."
"I think Hagrid has it."
"…" Even this far away from the cart, they could both still clearly make out the sound of stomach fluids hitting pavement.
The emerald goblin shook his head and strode forward so that he was facing the door. "I guess we can do it the old fashion way, but I will have to take a bit of your blood."
Harry stared down at the goblin for a moment weighing his choices. On one hand, god knows how much blood the little monster was going to take from him and with the medieval conditions he has observed of the wizarding world so far, most likely it would involve a blade of some sort. Yet on the other hand, he would have to go back to a currently very sick Hagrid and try to fish the key out of the man's many pockets without getting stomach stew on himself. Shaking his head, the raven haired boy put his hand forward causing the goblin to chuckle.
"A most wise decision Mr. Potter." The short lizardtoid stroked the door with the tip of his finger causing the door to glow and eerie shade of lavender. Reaching into his pocket, he (Well Harry thought it was a he, but then again he had no idea what a female goblin looked like) withdrew a wicked looking dagger and snatched Harry's hand and pricked the thumb before the boy could protest. Wincing slightly at the minor laceration on his digit, Harry watched with interest as the goblin pressed the side of the blade damp with blood against the door and spat out a few words in the goblin tongue. At once, the entryway stopped glowing and a number of faint clicks could be heard from behind the closed entrance. After the noise faded away, the doors lurched open, slowly parting to allow entry into whatever lay within.
Seeing the goblin motion for him to go in first, Harry shrugged and crept in cautiously. Years of being ambushed by Dudley and his gang had left Harry paranoid about going anywhere without first checking the surroundings, especially a room he could be cornered in without escape.
Once inside, all other thoughts simply ceased as he took in the piles of gold and silver that lay in mounds on the floor. Trying to grasp the fact that this was all his, Harry finally came to the conclusion that he was fucking rich. Picking up one of the gold coins, Harry stared down into the face of a regal looking man who stared back sternly. Harry knew that the British monarchy preferred to press the face of their queen onto their coins, so this man whoever he was must be of some great importance to wizarding society; perhaps Merlin? Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he turned to look at the goblin that was standing by the entrance tapping its booted foot impatiently..
"What's the currency exchange rate and what are these called?"
Startled by the fact that the young wizarding hero didn't even know the basic currency of the world he saved, the goblin stared back in silence for a moment as if seeing Harry in a new light.
"The gold coins are called galleons. The silver ones are sickles. The brass coins with a hole in the middles are knuts. Ten sickles to a galleon and ten knuts to a sickle. I trust you know enough math to derive the value of knuts to galleons?"
Ignoring the gibe towards his intelligence Harry continued his line of questions. "And to muggle currency?"
"Hmm, currently the knut is valued to be around 1 pound, and of course the muggle world has multiple currencies for different country, and whatever the exchange rate for their bills to the pound, that is how much the wizarding money is worth."
Staring down at the thousands of Galleons before him, Harry had a hard time wrapping his mind around how much money his parents had left him. There must have been over a million pounds in here just from the Galleons alone. He was set for life.
"And this is all mine?"
"Yes of course, this was the schooling account your parents set up for you so that you would have access to money in case they were to pass away. It should be more than enough to hold you out until you reach the age where you can claim your family vault and take over the title of Lord Potter."
"Family Vault? Title?" Harry was becoming more confused with each word that came out of the goblin's sneering mouth.
"Do you honestly know nothing about yourself Mr. Potter?"
Seeing the curious rather than mocking look in the goblin's eyes, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind and pump as much information out of the little green monster as possible, dignity be damned.
"I grew up with my muggle relatives who have nothing to do with the wizarding world. I didn't even know I was a wizard until yesterday!"
The curious light had gone out of the goblin's eyes, and instead a calculating look came across his face as he eyed the boy in front of him. Here was the wizarding world's savior, who did not know a thing about the world he saved, untainted by the prejudices of the mass, and soon one day to be the holder of the title Lord Potter, one of the most powerful houses in Wizangot. This was a chance for the goblin's to make a powerful ally whose family's fortune could make the goblin nation a lot of money.
"Listen closely because I'm not going to repeat myself. You are the last heir to the noble house of Potter, one of the 13 most powerful and influencel families in the wizarding world. These thirteen families were originally clans of wizards in days gone past who had band together to form formidable alliances. Generations of marrying between the clan members made them all family and these 13 families are the oldest in the world, predating even the Hogwarts founders. They all hold seats in the Wizangot, the wizarding world's international court I suppose that decide on all matters that affect the wizarding world. Your family along with the 12 others holds the most votes in court, meaning one day when you claim the title of Lord Potter, you will be helping make decisions that will shape the entire wizarding world."
Harry's mind spun as he took in everything the goblin was saying. He was an 11 year old boy who got the crap beaten out of him by his cousin's gang every other day. How was he supposed to help shape the world he had just discovered yesterday?
Seeing the look of shock and confusion the green eyed boy's face, the goblin took pity on him.
"You won't be able to take the title of Lord Potter until you are 17, the legal adult age in the wizarding world, so you will have time to adjust to your position and hopefully educate yourself enough so as not to make too many stupid mistakes that would cripple our world."
"And the family vault?"
"Ah yes, being one of the oldest families in the wizarding world, means you are also one of the richest. The majority of the money made by the Potter's of the past are all put into the family vault, as is the ring that signifies your position as Lord Potter, and a number of other family heirlooms, but you won't be able to access that vault until you are of age. Needless to say, your family vault makes the money here look like a bad tip to a particularly ugly looking waiter."
A shadow loomed over the goblin by the entrance, and in walked Hagrid, who now sported a lighter shade of green on his face, though his shirt seemed to have changed from brown to a greenish looking tan. "Sorry about that, you got what you need Harry?"
"Err not yet." Turning around, the boy began stuffing gold down into his pockets before realizing there had to be a better way.
"I don't suppose one of you has a bag with you?"
Hagrid scratched his slightly wet looking beard and shrugged. "Sorry Harry, didn think to bring one wit me."
The boy looked imploringly at the goblin next to the giant.
"Gringotts provides bags of the magical nature for a cost of course. We have the Endless Bag for 5 sickles. The Endless Bag of Security that keys only to the blood of the user so that anyone else would only reach in and find an empty bag for 2 galleons, and of course the particularly nasty Endless Bag of Biting which only the keyed owner can find money in without losing their hand to the bag for 5 galleons. "
"Uhh…I'll take the endless bag of security."
"A most wise choice Mr. Potter." Reaching into his pocket the goblin pulled out a rather dull looking coin pouch that one might find in a dumpster with either puke or shit inside it. "Simply reach in and think about what you wish to withdraw and if there is the amount inside you will find it. To find out how much money is left, simply put your hand into the bag and think that question and the answer will find itself in your mind."
"So by endless you mean I can put all the money in here into the bag?"
"Oddly enough as the name might imply, no. The bag itself can't take more than 30 pounds in weight."
"So why's it called the endless bag?"
"Well certainly the bag that can only hold 30 pounds doesn't sound as impressive." The goblin had a point thought Harry. "Of course the bags can be upgraded for a nominal fee, for each extra pound of weight we charge a sickle."
"It's fine." Taking the dingy looking bag from the goblin, Harry stared down at it unimpressed. He had serious doubt this thing could hold 30 pounds; most likely the goblin was ripping him off. Knowing he had no way to verify how much he was putting into the bag, the boy shrugged it off and began cramming as much coins into the bag as possible. And oddly enough, no matter how much he put in, the bag seemed to remain empty. Finally after pressing in countless coins, the bag began to fill. Seeing that the endless enchantment had come to a halt, Harry decided to try out the feature the goblin had told him about. Placing his right hand into the bag, he wondered how much money was in it.
And like magic, the answer was suddenly in his head. 123 galleons 217 sickles 193 knuts. Magic was the coolest thing in the world. Turning around, he took one last look around the vault before heading towards the door.
"Ay Harry, I think there's a something over there for you over by the back of your vault." Turning around, Harry looked towards where Hagrid was pointing at, and indeed half buried under a mound of knuts was what appeared to be a sheet of parchment.
Excitement bubbled in the pit of Harry's stomach as he stared at the piece of paper with mounting hope. Perhaps after all these years, he would at last have confirmation of who his parents were. Practically sprinting over, the boy reverently pulled out the folded sheet of parchment, staring down at the slightly yellow looking paper. Carefully unfolding it, as if it may crumble to dust with the lightest touch, his eyes were met with the sight of a moving photo. Tears welled up in his eyes as for the first time he saw a picture of his parents.
Rubbing the tears away, Harry allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of his parents, the people he had wondered and yearned about for so many years. His mother was a beautiful redhead whose smile seemed to brighten the very photo, and here and there sprinkled across her face were a few freckles. Just from the photo alone, Harry could tell he had inherited his mother's vibrant green eyes and nose structure. In her arms, carefully wrapped in a red and gold blanket with a lion printed across it was a sleeping baby; him. Standing next to her with his arms wrapped around his mother lovingly was his father, and there could be no mistaking who he was; they were practically carbon copies of each other! The only difference between Harry and James was the fact that Harry's eyes were green, and his nose was had a slightly different makeup. Perched on the man's nose was a pair of thin wired glasses, and his wild messy hair was an exact replica of Harry's. The dazzling smile on his father's face was only matched by his mother's, and both his parents beamed up at him. Rubbing the photo with his thumb, Harry smiled down through tear filled eyes. Here was the proof that he had always wanted, that his parents had loved him, the very thing the Dursleys had never given Harry. And to him, it was enough to know that his parents had loved him with all their heart. Placing the photo carefully into his pocket, he unfolded the letter wondering what his parents had to say to him.
Immediately he could tell two people had written the letter, the handwriting differed as night and day. One was thin and spidery while the other was thick and loopy. Harry sat down on the pile of gold, lost to the world as he listened to the last word's his parents had left him.
Dear Harry,
Hopefully when you are reading this, we will be right next to you having a good laugh over our paranoia and your mum will no doubt be smacking me for showing you such a depressing thing. In fact she's doing it right now. But if you are reading this alone, then what we have feared has come to pass, and this is all you have left of us. So remember, listen to your father's last word's and follow it to the letter. You must play quidditch, Slytherin are mostly scumbags who cannot be trusted on the field of quidditch or off for that matter and you must marry a pretty redhead! Do not listen to your father Harry! This is your mother speaking, know that no matter what you do, we will always be proud of you and love you. You must be in Gryffindor!! Oh that man. Honestly I don't think your father will ever grow up. Harry the most important thing to us is that you are happy. We want to protect you from the bad things in the world and give you the best life we can Harry, but so much is going on that we fear we may not be there for you and you will have to face the world alone. But no matter what, just remember that we will always be watching over you. Gryffindor!!!!!! Harry, there is a war going on, led by a maniac by the name of Voldermort. Your father and I are a part of a group of fighters outside the government officials who are doing battle against the dark wizards, but recently a prophecy has come to light concerning you that has forced us into hiding. The wording is a little iffy, and I'm not sure I really believe in prophecy's son, but better safe than sorry. The basic gist of it is, only you have the power to kill Voldermort Harry. If you are reading this letter alone, then most likely we were killed by that man. Under no circumstances are you to run off to try to avenge us Harry! You must prepare yourself before you can face that man! We have tried to the best of our ability to give you an edge, and hopefully it will be enough to give you what you need to win. Underneath this letter is a box with 2 potions. One of the potions is murky black, and know this Harry, no one must find out about that potion for it is illegal! By dipping a wand in the potion, you remove all ministry tracers on that wand, but it is imperative that you have two wands Harry. One wand will be for everyday usage so that the ministry won't get suspicious with your lack of magical ability, and one you will use to train yourself. I suggest you clean out the more powerful of the two wands, and keep it as an ace in the hole. I'll let your father explain the second potion. Harry, all joking aside, you have quite the destiny ahead of you, and no matter what happens, know that you have a proud mother and father. The prophecy says you will have a power the dark lord knows not, meaning you will have an edge he won't have. Trust me when I say this, insane though he is, Voldermort is extremely powerful, and there aren't many people who can go toe to toe with him in a fair fight. Dumbledore seems to believe that your secret weapon is love, but I highly doubt hugging and holding hands will kill the man when everything else thrown at him seems to have failed. The Potter family line is one of the 13 oldest families in the world, but along with that title comes a power only a Potter can possess. We have a bloodline trait known as the Boost. A normal wizard at your age has access to about 10-15 percent of their total power. As you reach magical adulthood, anywhere from age 15-18, you will double what magical access you have, ranging from 20 to 30 percent of your core. What the family bloodline does is it puts you into control of over 50 percent of your core power for however long your body can handle it. It only lasts a few moments, but in that time period, magic will literally saturate your bloodstream. Your speed and strength will be enhanced, allowing for faster and stronger movement, your magical spells will be bolstered, going above and beyond the normal effects it should have, your body will release a magical aura that dampens the effects of spells cast on you, allowing you to shrug off stunners and only getting a bruise from a bludgeoning hex that would have cracked your skull open. Your blood will be supercharged with magic, allowing you to heal at many times the normal rate, your wounds will begin to close and heal in minutes. Your mind will be accelerated by the magic, allowing you to think faster and react faster, so the world will seem to be moving slower in comparison. Of course, no Potter has accessed this power in at least 3 generations, and I'm only getting this out of the family records. This isn't a power to be messed with easily Harry, there are always consequences love, remember that! Though the boost gives you an incredible advantage over the normal wizard temporarily, you won't be able to hold it indefinitely. The whiplash from the use of the boost will leave you feeling tired and fatigued as if you had run for miles and your magical levels will drop by half for a few minutes before you recover. According to the journal your father found, Potter's have died in the past from using the powers. Another worrying factor is the mention of how addictive using the boost is. The feeling of being superhuman often has Potters in the past constantly overusing and not being able to stop using the boost until their body collapses from the stress. Use this power with caution Harry. From what I understand from the texts, your great-great-great-great-grandfather decided the use of the power was too dangerous when his youngest son succumbed to its addictive properties, and using a potion he blocked then next generation from being able to access their power, and it seems that the potion is still in effect even in your generation. Luckily, your mother is a genius in potions, and based on the ingredients used in the potion we have been able to reverse engineer the potion's properties. The slightly glowing pink potion will unlock your ability to Boost, but if you decide to lock away the powers again after you defeat the Lord Moldywort, then the original potion recipe can be found in the family vault. And Harry the power must be trained like everything else you will be learning. From what I have seen in the records, you will begin getting the Boost when you feel yourself in danger, most likely activated by adrenaline, but as you experience it more and more, you will begin to grasp how to call forth its power. Once you do, the hard part is learning how to stop. Most the time when you are learning to use the boost, you will simply stop when your body fails, but as you learn to call it willingly, you must force yourself to shut down the power willingly. Moderation in all things Harry! There isn't much else left to say, and hopefully we'll be there to help you along the way. If not, well no matter how short my life was, I was happy to have lived my life and had you Harry.. We love you so very much Harry.
Love
Mum and Dad.
Brushing aside his tears, Harry swept aside the coins underneath him and indeed there was the trunk his mother had mentioned. Carefully opening it, he looked inside and saw the two potions on top of a pile of books with a note taped onto the potions. Pulling it off, he read his mother's note.
Harry love, we keyed this box to you so that only you can open it. You can use this box to keep small trinkets important to you in a safe place. There isn't much else we can do to help you at this point. I would suggest you get some books on how to duel and a manual on possible dark creatures you may have to face.
Love mum
Carefully, he placed the letter into the box along with the photo and shut the lid. Brushing the last of his tears aside, he turned around and walked back to the entrance where Hagrid and the goblin had respectfully stayed as he read his parent's letter. He had a lot to think about, his world had been turned upside down in the last 20 minutes, Lord Potter, Wizangot, secret family power, destiny to kill some maniac that had murdered his parents. Looks like the chances of him being in Africa without his shirt on was looking better and better.