Chapter 2: In which fun things start happening

So, a warning. DON'T SKIP THIS! Or you'll only flame me pointlessly.

I genuinely believe that if placed in these situations, I would do such things. I'm not a nice guy, and it wouldn't take any more than 'half-decent' power to corrupt me absolutely.

Now, previous experience teaches me that if anyone actually happens to read this, a lot of people will ignore this warning and flame me about my morality anyway. That's fine, but don't expect me to care.

That doesn't matter right now, but it's best said early.

Warning over, now on to the story:

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So… this is the Harry Potter world. My first impression so far is that it's…filthy. Goodness, where am I? I mean, yes, I took Impoverished, but this looks…oh dear.

The memories are here. Hmm…so…

Oh boy.

Oh fucking hell. What did I-okay, I know what I did to deserve this, but is this life of mine a doozy! Tell me, what do you think you get when you ask to be an impoverished pureblood metamorphmagus Parselmouth who inherited a trove of dark magic and a pensieve from his ancestors?

Let me tell you what you get. You get Cepheus Morag Gaunt, and a bloodline that, well…let me illustrate in detail. It all begins, I suppose, when Merope didn't die after giving birth to Tom, but rather survived and was tracked down by Morfin.

Yeah. So, he tortured/brainwashed her into obedience, and they went back to the shack. The same year, there was a daughter, Ursula Gaunt. Two years after that, there were twins, a brother and sister.

In 1957, when Ursula was all grown the family somehow came across Regulus Black, younger brother of Arcturus Black and owner of a substantial fortune. A plan was hatched, and executed, and Ursula ensnared Regulus.

Now another thing here. Regulus, wouldn't you know, was a Lieutenant in Grindelwald's armies, in Britain for recruitment. Well, that was the reason he'd given to folks back in Germany, at least. In truth he was here to deposit the gold and the items he'd stolen during a raid. That gold was the 'substantial fortune'. Well, he managed to squirrel away all the items he had in his vault, but before he could put away the gold, Ursula got to him.

They got married, and were all sickly sweet about it.

So far so good. But the plan went wrong when Ursula fell for him, and refused to kill him when Morfin asked. He killed Black himself, but not before there was a son, Pollux Eridanus Black, who inherited instead of Ursula.

So she did what any mother would.

She took the son, along with as much of the gold as she could, and ran away to a property Regulus had 'appropriated'. Well, time passed, the boy grew up, and married a Bulgarian Veela. There was a daughter, Elladora Isla Black. Several more years passed, and the money started running out. Ursula died in that time, and the family decided to come back to see if the house of Black could be gotten to give more.

In the meantime, Merope read about the new Hogwarts Head Boy Tom Riddle, and tried to sneak off the Hogsmeade to see him. Morfin found out and killed her in a fit of rage. The twins, Morfin Jr. and Hesperidia, ran away fearing for their lives. When they found out that Morfin Sr. had been thrown in Azkaban for the murder of Tom Riddle Sr., and more importantly, they were safe from their father they came back.

Time passed, they… yes, married. There was a son, Morag. This was in 1960.

Now, seventeen years after this, when the Black couple came back, they realized what a stupid thing they'd done. But it was too late already. They were injured in a death eater attack on Diagon Alley, and brought to St. Mungo's. Unfortunately, Morfin was there, having been brought in because of an injury of his own.

Recognizing them from the name and the Parseltongue, he acted in rage. He killed his cousin and his wife, and escaped with the daughter, who was about 19.

After that there was a quick marriage between Morag and Elladora to 'seal the bloodline'. Not that I need to tell you this, but Elladora was both under the Imperius and drugged to the gills. What followed was literal hell. Rape was almost a daily event, coupled with beatings, torture, and everything else a family of demented, barely human sadists could come up with. This went on for two years, without rest or respite, and regular bouts of torture to complement it. Until one day, someone made a mistake, and Elladora ended up with a wand.

Long story short, both Morfin and Hesperidia Gaunt died painfully. Morag managed to blindside his 'wife', injuring her pretty badly. Still, she was a trained witch and he was a half-savage gutterling. He died and she lived, all in a matter of minutes. Afterwards, she healed herself, although the injuries would never truly be healed. Unfortunately, it was too late. Mommy dearest was stuck with the product of the rape. To the slow ones among you, that would be me.

And so, nine months later, in a cold night of January 1980, Cepheus Morag Gaunt was born. She raised him, abusing him at every term for what he represented. Even caused him to be infected by a werewolf, not that she ever realized that.

And that, people, is my origin story. Fun, eh?

Speaking of which, I do believe I have affairs to take care of.

Rising from where I was sleeping, I tiptoe to the door. Mummy sleeps in the only bedroom the house has, which is…this one, actually. I just happen to be in the cupboard.

Okay, so this is going to be tricky. Checking my pockets, I find the single most important thing I own, a certain key. Okay, so where's the…keyhole?

Why am I looking for a keyhole on the inside of a cupboard?

Oh fuck. This just became a lot more- aaand there's a trunk at the back of the cupboard. Saved.

Opening the trunk with my key, I am greeted by the ever so sweet view of my warehouse.

I let out a breath I never knew I was holding. Yes. I am standing in my warehouse. This world holds nothing to fear.

Well then, first things first. I made a plan for this, back when I was sitting in my between-jumps house. It's time to execute it.

The first thing I pick up is a little golden thing, looks like a lighter. As a matter of fact it's a Kingsman grenade. Pocketing it, I move on to the second most important thing. It's a huge, strange looking thing, a device of my own creation out of several combined car batteries. Ignoring the bulk of it, I look for the cables that should be… there.

Holding them both, I flick a switch, and just smile wide in relaxation as wave after wave of current flows into me, recharging my Conduit powers until I'm running absolutely one-hundred percent hot. Once that's done, I pick up another grenade, and then it's time to act. Stepping out of the warehouse, I withdraw and pocket my key, and walk to the door.

Now, until ten minutes ago, this body was a thin, reedy, malnourished ten year old, barely capable of holding its own against a rabbit. Now, with stacked perks and powers acting in unison… well, I'm still not anything all that great, but I can bench press about ninety kilos easy.

So a weak, half-rotten cupboard door is no problem at all. As the door shatters open, I take a moment to make sure that my mother is actually there, just sitting up with a start, before I point my hand and a silvery-white bolt of electricity hits her straight in her chest. I pour it on, drawing on my new memories and the sheer hate I feel for this woman to ignore her screams. Eventually the screams stop, her body blackens and chars, and still I keep pouring it on. I spend what was half a week's worth of charge in less than a minute, and then I shut it down.

Walking out tentatively, I look at her. Dead as a doornail.

Good.

I reach out and pick up the wand lying by her bedside, ignoring both the sudden rush of heat that starts from erupts from it and runs up my arm, and the blood-red sparks that explode from the tip.

That's one thing done.

Stepping back, I cast my first bit of magic. The Vanishing charm is a fifth year spell, and a rather difficult one, but I have a perk that gives me perfect wandless magic.

This should be a cinch.

I wave the wand, mutter the spell...and of course, it isn't.

A cinch , y'know?

To be fair, it's not entirely ineffective, the finger closest to me does vanish, but that's it. I discard the wand and try wandlessly. This time it's just the fingertip.

Figures. It takes me nearly ten tries with the wand to do it, each covering more, and by the end I have a cramp in my arm. But the evidence is disposed of, nonetheless.

That done, I need to take care of another thing. Tossing the wand where the corpse used to be a moment ago, I start preparing. The words of the spell are remembered, the magic is readied, and…I cast the Sunlight Charm on myself.

My first thought is, well, 'Hothothot!'

Don't look at me like that, it fucking burns! It's a slow burn, starting from my chest area and spreading outwards. I feel it cover me, inch-by-inch, making me feel as if I just jumped into a furnace. The purging fires of the charm sweep through my veins, burning away the curse like so much cinder. It takes nearly half an hour, and the heat around the actual scar lasts the longest, but at last, it's done.

Rising from where I'm lying, I make my way to the door. There, I use my key, and…yes. Here we are, in my great and wonderful warehouse!

Well then, time to get this show on the road!

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Two Hours Later
Gringotts Bank

"Yes?"

"I wish to enquire if there are any vaults that I own in the bank." I say quickly, making sure there's no hesitation in my voice.

The goblin leans forward, looming over me from across the counter. After what seems like a hundred lifetimes, it nods. "Very ?"

"Cepheus Gaunt."

The goblin raises an eyebrow, staring at me for a moment. Then it nods slightly.

"Name of your parents?"

"Elladora Black and Morag Gaunt."

Another eyebrow raised, another stare. Then it reaches under the counter, and brings out a form and a quill. "Write your name in the box. Your full name."

I comply. As soon as I touch the quill to the paper the slightest of itches develops on the back of my hand.

Hm. So that's one point in favor of perceived 'fanon', then. I write out my name in full, a process that leaves my hand desperately itchy but thankfully has no other effects, and then wait for the goblin to examine the form.

It takes about ten seconds staring at the thing, turning it this way and that. Then it brings it close to its face and fucking sniffs it! What the hell?

Anyway, it hops off the stool, after telling me to follow it.

It ends up taking most of the morning, in the end, with potions to dip fingers into, forms to fill, applications to make and questions to answer, but in the end it does all end. And so here I am, standing about a meter in front of vault number 707, booked about fifty years and change ago by Regulus Black. Not the Regulus Black I know of, but the other one who till now was just a name on a family tree. Except that now he's my great-grandfather. Yeah, no shit.

I mean, I went through a slight version of this back when I received the local memories, but they didn't cover everything, since mom wasn't very fond of sharing family stories with the son she loathed. The basics had been plenty, really.

But this… well, this has possibilities.

I'll need to think on this properly, but not exactly right now. The goblin just opened the vault.

Stepping in, I look around. I don't know exactly what I was expecting...but I'm disappointed all the same. Well, this blows. I hadn't exactly expected vast fortunes, but would some money have been too much to ask for? The shelves around the vaultare all completely bare, almost taunting me with the wealth they should have been holding.

I mean, I'm not exactly strapped for money. There's enough gold in my warehouse build this whole bank out of solid gold, and that's without touching any of the jewelry or the coins. But it's the principle of the thing, y'know.

Well, here's a goal to myself. I'll stuff this vault full of money till it's fit to burst. Without taking the warehouse shortcut. I mean, it won't be easy, oh no, but it sure as hell will be fun. I already have a list of a number of people who are…unworthy to remain rich. Or alive, for that matter.

Still, I need to take a good look at everything that is here.

Let's see, yeah, it's basically the stuff I bought using my CP. A stack of dark magic books, a pensieve, and…oh, what's this? The deed to a castle… on an island in the Atlantic Ocean?

Fucking really? The castle I first got in Far Far Away, the castle I decorated so bloody carefully…is serving as Jump-Chan's fuck you to bad 'Lord Harry' stories?

Sure, I suppose. Why not?

I ignore the pensieve and the books for now. They'll keep. Right now, I need to get myself settled somewhere. When I pick up the deed, I notice the items lying under it. It's an envelope, pretty large, about A4 sized. I pick it up, and it's too heavy for just paper or parchment.

Opening the flap and looking reveals a couple of sheets of parchment and a large golden key. I take both out, and breeze through the letter. Hmm… the key is a portkey, last will and testament of Regulus Black, everything to the oldest male of my direct bloodline…ah! The password to activate the portkey is 'Domus'.

Which is… 'home', in Latin.

Real innovative, gramps.

POV Shift: 1p to 3p

Tense Shift: Present to Past

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July the 28th
Gringotts

If one had to use a single word to describe the man, it would have to be 'nondescript'. He was just utterly, absolutely unremarkable in every aspect. Dirty brown hair framed a sallow face, with brown eyes and thin spectacles perched on an utterly ordinary nose.

Dressed in plain black robes, he moved steadily through the atrium of Gringotts, taking quick strides until he reached one of the counters.

The goblin looked up.

"Yes?" it asked in its kind's usual angry, nasal tone.

"I want to talk to someone about some gold."

"Gringotts is not in the business of selling metals, wizard. You need to talk to someone in the alley."

"I'm not here to buy gold. I want to sell."

"Then you most definitely want someone in the alley."

"I have one hundred kilograms of pure gold, completely unadulterated.

With that particular pronouncement, the goblin's attitude did a total one-eighty. Cepheus had expected as much. Call them what one would, goblins were true professionals.

"Your name?"

"John Jones." Cepheus Gaunt replied.

"You realize that to waste the time of the goblin nation will cause you no end of trouble?"

"Of course."

"Very well." It said, hopping off of its stool.

Cepheus followed it to a small office just inside one of the corridors, where it sat down across the desk. Settling in, it leveled a gaze at Cepheus. "Let's see it, then."

Cepheus nodded, taking out the brick he had in his pocket. The goblin peered at it closely, sniffing it and at one point giving it a long, wet lick. Once it was done, the goblin stared at the boy, focusing a calculating gaze so intense that Cepheus could practically feel his skin crawl.

"The gold is nearly worthless. Gringotts would have to spend hundreds of galleons on every brick to make it usable."

Cepheus just nodded.

"There are other issues as well, but Gringotts understand your need, and the value your custom may have in the future. At the same time, the bank itself cannot buy your gold."

"But-but how-"

"There is a goblin willing to work even with such substandard materials. We would have to act as a proxy for him."

"Oh, of course"

"Would you be willing to wait while the sample is shown to him and brought back?"

"Oh, sure."

The goblin summoned another goblin with a clap of its hands, and sent it off after telling it to present the brick to the "Number nine goldsmith."

As the younger goblin left, Cepheus leaned back in his chair and let his mind wander. He hoped it didn't take the goblins too long to check if the Philosopher's Stone was still there, and he really hoped that the gold didn't actually end up matching with the sample Flamel had left in their care. He remembered the words of the goblin wraith quite clearly. He'd be screwed if that happened.

Still, the same wraith had checked his gold and told him it was entirely different, so he wasn't worried too much.

It ended up being a full fifteen minutes before the younger goblin came back.

"The smith refused to accept this gold, Accountant. I had to grovel to him to do a favor to a poor orphan pureblood."

"My humble thanks, runner." Cepheus said, smiling beatifically. He turned to the senior goblin then. "Well, the price?"

"Ah, yes. How much did he say, runner?"

"The smith said he simply could not pay a knut over a hundred galleons a kilo, master."

"There you are, Mr. Jones. That will make ten thousand galleons for your entire stock. Not a bad price for such shoddy material."

"Oh, I have no doubt. But I have my own needs, accountant. Tell the smith I will accept… two thousand galleons a kilo."

That caused a mood swing in the room.

"Surely you are joking, Mr. Jones. The smith is being generous at a hundred. Perhaps we could convince him to come up with a few galleons more, but two thousand… madness…" it trailed off.

"Perhaps. But that is the price I wish to be taken to him."

The accountant made a huge show out of nodding wearily at the runner.

As it took off, the young man ignored the accountant as it attempted to engage him in conversation. He was more thankful than ever for having had the foresight to use the resurrection stone to call up and quiz a few goblins on negotiation tactics. Frankly, these people would have chewed him up otherwise.

After then minutes or so, the goblin came back.

It said "The smith laughs at the wizard's presumption, but says he can pay a hundred and fifty for the spunk of the boy."

At that, Cepheus sat up, started. A fifty galleon increase at once? Something was wrong. He sat back, wracking his brains to see what he did wrong… and noticed both the accountant and the runner staring at him.

Well, figuring out what he did wrong was going to have to wait, then.

"I thank him for the consideration. And to honor his own wisdom and renown, I'm willing to lower my price quite a bit, I dare say. So tell the smith I am willing to offer the gold at… nineteen hundred galleons a kilogram."

At this the accountant reacted "Come now, Mr. Jones. This is foolish. He's being generous as is."

"All the same, accountant."

Making a great show out of its resignation, the accountant sent the runner off again.

And so the back and forth went. The goblins tried all their tricks, ranging from insults to flattery, and to all but outright threaten him, while he just smiled and named his price. All in all, it was a long, long time until they could agree on a price, which ended up being fourteen hundred galleons a kilogram, and thus a hundred and forty thousand for his whole stock.

Of course, then came the issue of how he would be taking the money.

"I'm afraid I'll be needing all of it in cash, immediately."

If the goblin found the request strange, it showed no sign of it. "Certainly. There is a hundred galleon charge for high quality enchanted trunks, if you would wish to take them?"

"Oh yes, certainly. Tell them I want a hundred thousand galleons purely in galleons in the trunk, and of the remaining, ten thousand each in Pounds, Dollars and Euros. Of the last ten thousand, I'll need…let's see, make it seven thousand in galleons ands the remaining in sickles and knuts."

"Very well." Was all the goblin said in reply.

It took several minutes for the goblins to gather together the money, which was time the wizard used to check over the trunk holding the gold. It wouldn't do to give the goblins less, or heavens forbid, more than they'd paid for, would it?

Still, the whole thing was over with about half an hour later, a few minutes after which the jumper had left the bank and was out on the street.

Next stop, shopping!

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The bags crash onto the ground loudly, followed by me as I settle onto the sofa. Gods that was boring. Buying a full wardrobe of wizard clothes, a fancy, high-end trunk, telescopes, potion ingredients… all took inordinately, stupidly large amounts of time, enough that had it not been for the realization that these were all necessary things that would've needed to be bought eventually if not now, I never would have considered putting in.

About the only part of the experience I enjoyed was the books, but even that took far too long. Still, the job is done now. I have all the books on my list, not to mention many, many others. Grades two to seven of the Standard Books of Spells, for one thing, and others also, such as volumes one to three of Mysteries of the Mind, to help me take advantage of my perk selection, along with a collection of books on law, history and legal history.

And, of course, books on advanced potion making, curses, low-level enchanting…a lot of books, let's just say.

Not nearly enough, of course, but they would do for now.

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