Tom Marvolo Riddle bolted upright in his bed, staring at the short, robed figure silhouetted by the moon. "Who are you?" he demanded, long fingers curling over his familiar 13 inch yew wand. " I am what you are not. Complete." The figure rasped, and glided closer of soundless feet. "What do you mean? Of course I am complete, you doddering fool." Tom snapped, Crucio on his lips. "The Bumblebee hath stolen thy memories, I see." The figure sighed sadly, and moved closer still. "I can return them, if that is thy wish." " My… memories?" asked Voldemort slowly, red eyes glaring with mistrust. "I do not even know your name." "You may call me… Hecata." The figure's voice seemed to smile at him gently. "Well then, Hecata, I don't trust you, but if, IF, my memories have indeed been stolen, how do you plan to get them back?" Hecata smiled serenely. "By destroying the block in your mind, Tom Riddle." "…Fine. Do what you will." Tom muttered after a five minute long staring contest. "Close thy eyes, Marvolo. Sleep…" Hecata muttered, and the ruby eyes slowly slid shut with the faintest murmur of dissent. Hecata smoothed his bald head with a skeletal hand, watching in satisfaction as a thick mane of hair grew. She bent down and breathed a silvery-black mist into his forehead, before drawing a pentagram at its point of entry. Placing one hand on his heart, and the other cradling Tom's head, Hecata dove into his mind. She ignored the chests and bookshelves, bypassing all of the traps with ease. There was an oily mist writhing around a black chest, the memory block, which turned defensive as she drew near. A creature with sharp teeth and claws made to attack her, but with a wave she dispelled the illusion. "Thou art truly strong, Bumblebee, to create such a monster in thy unwilling pawns. No wonder this poor boy art so confused…" she muttered, hands curling in fists. Her fingernails grew, hands shifting, bones breaking and healing, until she had large claws and strong, hard, animal hands. With a bestial scream, she tore and rent the oily intruder, a whirlwind of destruction and vengeance. When all that was left were tatters, Hecata waved her hands to dispel them. "Doing this to one of my children! If only I could interfere more on the mortal plane…" Hecata sighed, fading from Tom's mind. "There, child. This should release you truly and fully until I can get the rest of thy soul shards back to you. Sweet Dreams, my Marvel."
"So… the Prophecy was truly a fake? But… who has enough power to… Dumbledore." Harry snarled, fists curling. "Griphook, could I please have an overview of my vault and… can you do an inheritance-test thingy? Or a blood line test?"
"We can do both. However… You have more than one vault…Harry. Did you wish for an overview of one, or all?" Griphook asked.
"More than one vault?" Blinking slowly, Harry shrugged. "All of them, I suppose."
"Very well, Harry. GLIBROOK! Get me folders 145-167 and the IB box." Griphook ordered the young goblin, who bowed and hurried away. "It should be here soon, Mr.… Harry."
Harry smiled, and then looked down bashfully. "Thanks, Griphook. I… I think this is the most anyone has ever done for me, who wasn't a friend or paid to do so."
Both goblins merely bowed their heads in silence. The pensive atmosphere was broken when Glibrook arrived, bowed under the weight of a massive stack of parchment and a box.
Griphook gave the small goblin a nod of thanks, and levitated the parchment stacks over to Ragnarok. The box was set down in front of Harry. It was plain, black metal with no clasp.
"What do I need to do?" Harry asked, refraining from touching the box, just to be cautious.
" Cut yourself with this athema," Ragnarok pointed to a silver dagger Harry hadn't noticed. "Then, drip seven drops of blood onto the black pentagram at the top of the box. We wait until the magic disassembles your blood, and it will give you a list of bloodlines, and the gifts that are dormant or active within those bloodlines, and the percentage of chance that you will be able to receive that gift on your majority. Or, barring that, the birthday after your magical emancipation."
"Magical emancipation? Gifts? Majority?" Harry stared, shaking his head. "I have no idea what you guys mean by that, you realize."
Ragnarok frowned. "Ah. Well. Your majority is the day when a wizard or witch," here his lips curled slightly in disgust, "receives any gifts from their bloodline, and a boost of magical power. Your majority generally happens in your early twenties, but some, such as Voldemort and Dumbledore, Nicholas Flamel and the four founders, even Merlin himself, have their power surges early. The earlier you have it, the more powerful in magic you will be. Dumbledore and Voldemort both had theirs at 17, Merlin and the four founders at 16."
Ragnarok paused, gesturing at Griphook to continue. " Gifts are what abilities a bloodline grants you. For example, the Blacks have great skills in animal care; dark magic and some are Metamorphagus. The Malfoy's have always had a great affinity with the dark and neutral magic's, and are loved by dragons and wyverns. The Dumbledore's have always been firmly entrenched in bad magic's, the hurtful type. The Weasley's have a great amount of magical power, and analytical minds. However, this generation has been diluted greatly by the marriage to Molly Prewett."
Ragnarok took over the explanation. " Magical emancipation is where you undergo a trial in front of the Gaia Stone. If the Stone agrees, you are officially emancipated in the Wizarding and Mundane worlds. It judges character, strength of magic and will, determination and your past in full before it judges. If you become emancipated by the stone, all your vaults are moved the a high-security sectioned vault, your majority comes either the birthday after or two years after and you cannot be controlled or forced by anyone."
" I see." Said Harry, pondering. "Would the tracer and the under-age magic laws be null?"
"Indeed." Both goblins chorused, smiling. Harry shuddered.
"Okay." Harry grasped the athema, taking deep breath, before slicing his palm with the wickedly sharp knife.
One drop, two drops. Harry sliced again before his wound closed fully, wincing.
Three drops, four drops, five drops. One more slice and the last two drops of ruby liquid fell.
A bright white glow enveloped the box, and it shuddered violently. A piece of parchment was laid beside the inheritance and blood box, and bright red ink began to scrawl across the page. Finally, after another three sheets of parchment, the box gave a last shudder and stilled, the glow fading to nothing.
The first parchment was his family line.
Name: Harry B-R J Potter Family Lines: Black – Connected through great-great-great grandmother Theodosia Black. Gaunt – Connected to Tom Marvolo Riddle through Merope Gaunt, mother, by magic. Potter – Connected by Father, James Brian Potter. Evanes – Connected by Mother, Lily Rose Evanes (Evans) Slytherin – Connected by great-great-great-great-grandfather, Alexis Slytherin. Ravenclaw – Connected by her Heir, Lily Rose Potter. Gryffindor – Connected by Spouse, Salazar Slytherin. Kihana – Connected by great-great-grandfather, Micah Kihana. Other World.
Location: Gringotts
Mood: Apprehensive
"Other World?" he asked quietly. The goblins gulped.
"There are… other worlds. All of them share the same focal points, for example, a hero to defeat the bad guys. Sometimes a world traveler will appear. Obviously, one of your ancestors met a world traveler, and got impregnated."
Harry nodded. "Slytherin and Gryffindor were married?"
"Ah. Well, yes. Although, nowadays, people just think of Slytherin as a 'slimy git' who hated all muggleborns. The truth is far from that. Godric and Salazar fell in love. Godric was a pure-blood, Salazar a half-blood. Salazar disliked his relatives, who did not treat him well, and from one of his rants comes the misconception of today." Ragnarok coughed uncomfortably. "We tried to tell the wizards, but they wouldn't listen."
" My mother was Ravenclaw's Heir?" Harry asked. The goblins shrugged. "Right. Okay. Next parchment, please."
Name: Harry B-R J Potter Abilities: Metamorphagus – Black Transfiguration – Potter Charms – Evanes Runes – Evanes Arithmancy – Evanes Blood Rituals – Gaunt Parseltongue – Slytherin Parselmagic – Slytherin Potions - Slytherin Weapon – Sword – Double Daggers – Gryffindor Library Vault – Ravenclaw Kioni – Kihana Farm – Kihana Sword – Kihana Double Daggers – Kihana Seeds – Kihana Monsters – Kihana
Location: Gringotts
Mood: In Shock
"Explanation, please." Harry said quietly, still staring at the sheet.
"These are a list of abilities, gifts or inheritances. May I see the sheet?" Griphook asked, nodding when Harry handed it over numbly. "Are you listening?"
"Yes."
"Good. Metamorphagus is fairly self-explanatory. You may be able to train yourself to become a Metamorphagus. The lists of subjects are blood interests, things that over the generations the family has become masters in. Since magic is in the blood, their affinities to certain subjects are passed down from generation to generation. Understand?"
"Yes, I do."
Ragnarok grabbed the parchment, scanning it intently. " The ones handed down from Godric give you an affinity for swords and double daggers. Kihana has a sword and pair of daggers that you can wield as well. The Library Vault is a vault filled with books, probably made by Ravenclaw herself. Kihana has left you a farm, seeds, monsters and ability, probably transformational, called Kioni. Slytherin has given you the potential for parselmagics as well as parseltongue, and… that is all."
Harry stared. "And there's another two sheets?" at their nod, he groaned. "Just my luck. Why can't I be normal?" Harry whined, staring at them from his slumped position.
"You're Harry Potter."
"Right. Third sheet, please."
Name: Harry B-R J Potter Abilities: Metamorphagus – Black Transfiguration – Potter Charms – Evanes Runes – Evanes Arithmancy – Evanes Blood Rituals – Gaunt Parseltongue – Slytherin Parselmagic – Slytherin Potions – Slytherin Weapon – Sword – Double Daggers – Gryffindor Kioni – Kihana
Location: Gringotts
Mood: In Shock and Mightily Depressed at his Fate
"What's on the fourth sheet?" Harry questioned. "We've gone through everything you mentioned."
"An overview of your properties." Griphook replied quickly.
Name: Harry B-R J Potter PROPERTIES: Godric's Hollow – Potter – Ruins Eledhien Farm – Kihana – Overgrown Forbidden Forest – East Quarter – Evanes – Overgrown Hogwarts – Dungeons – Slytherin Hogwarts – Towers – Gryffindor Hogwarts – Room of Requirements – Ravenclaw Gaunt Manor – Gaunt – Ruins Riddle Manor – Gaunt – Disrepair LOCATIONS: Godric's Hollow – Under Fidelius Eledhien Farm – Scotland – Hogwarts – Under Great Tree in Forbidden Forest Forbidden Forest – No Residents – Eledhien Farm Hogwarts – Dungeons Hogwarts – North, East, West and Astronomy Towers Hogwarts – RoR – Seventh Floor – By painting of Barnaby the Barmy Gaunt Manor – Uplottable – RUINED Riddle Manor – Little Hangelton
Location: Gringotts
Mood: Excited and Apprehensive
"So… I could go and live in one of these properties? Potentially?" Harry mused. "Could I take the Magical Emancipation test now?"
"Yes, if you truly wish to. There is no age limit set." Ragnarok rose from behind his desk, grabbing the large sword. As he removed it, Griphook took the athema and cut a line through his palm, laying a bloody handprint on a seemingly blank piece of wall.
"This can only be removed by me, and the door opened by willing goblin blood." Ragnarok explained, as the wall behind him disappeared.
There was a dark, circular room inside, lit only by the flickering flames of the brands hung in a pentagram. In the center was a pedestal, a solid piece of black jade, that glistened within the light. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up. The whole effect was creepy and powerful, and Harry felt certain he could feel an odd kind of whisper following him as he stepped inside.
"Do I touch the stone?" he whispered, feeling that raising his voice inside this place would be tantamount to suicide. The glowing blue orb hovered above a cushion made of faded velvet, and it rotated towards him at the sound of his voice. There was a single slit of red, like an eye, that made Harry immensely nervous.
There was no answer.
The door had closed behind him.
One small, trembling hand reached out, the white fingers ghostly in the blue light. The orb pulsed once, a flash of blue-white light that nearly blinded Harry, before his fingers touched the Stone.