Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

Beta: ak-alterego

Savior without Salvation

Chapter Three

Harry woke with a start. Still wearing his robes from last night he had the distinctive feeling that he had fallen asleep outside. Trust a Vampire to get into Hogwarts. After all, all manner of Dark Creatures found their way into the grounds.

It was still early; the sky a ripe blood red.

Legends said a blood red sky was the mark of a bloody night. No doubt somewhere someone had paid to Voldemort with their life. The Dark Lord had always plotted to keep the Golden Boy alienated from the general populace, and if the public learned to mark his birthday as a bloody day of violence so much the better.

Today was his seventeenth birthday but none of his friends would greet him at dawn, no owls would flutter at the stroke of midnight, no surprise parties would spring from hidden corners. They where all too busy patrolling the little sheep.

Everyone knew Voldemort would celebrate the birth of the Boy-Who-Lived. For God's sake, there had been articles for days that speculated what bloody prize He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would lay at the Golden Boy's feet.

Frankly, Harry didn't want to know.

News would come soon enough and he would endure another year where the school whispered:

'If only he hadn't come to Hogwarts…'

'If only Potter wasn't your friend…..'

'If only he'd kill Voldemort already….'

The sheep were too terrified to accuse Voldemort less news travel back to him that they were part of his 'critics'. But they had no qualms about attacking Harry.

He was their Savior….

……and he was their Martyr.

Their whipping boy and the willing soldier, fearless knight and the reckless child.

Drowning in names, titles, and accusations. He felt the fear deep in his bone, the panic that sprang in the middle of the night. Were his friends so ready to see his death if only to buy their freedom? And a voice in his heart cried inconsolably:

I don't want to die.

The school was empty save the house-elves that always seemed to be just around the corner and the ghosts that floated for all eternity. Portraits chatted amiably to neighbors. Yet all kept a wary eye on the young man. Harry knew without asking that these were his minders. Everyone was confident Voldemort would not attack Harry directly so long as he stayed out of the way.

In one of the last visions he'd had back in the summer after 5th year Voldemort had promised Harry.

'I will not seek your blood anymore. Luck or the Gods are with you, but they do not favor everyone else. This war will drive you mad, the blood of your innocents spilled everyday, and always because it was your blood that gave me life once more. Poor little Harry,' the serpentine voice mocked, 'they will turn from you, tarnish everything that you are, condemn everything you do. I need not waste my time killing you; your friends will do it for me. How long will they stand by your side as their family and friends fall? How long before they wish your death? Before they walk away from you? Denounce you? Everything you touch falls to ruin, everyone you love pays the prize.'

How could anyone, even the Darkest Lord, say that do a child burdened by the world, who had just buried his Godfather? How could this conflict spanning many decades, focus on a child not even born when the first murder was committed?

Both wanted him, Dumbledore and Voldemort.

'You will die by the Light or submit to the Dark. You have no Salvation.'

If it wasn't so sad, he'd laugh.

The Savior had no salvation.

It was easy enough going unseen to Myrtle's Bathroom. An illusion placed in one of the Library's alcoves would assure his minders that he did nothing more harmful than reading a long-winded tome. An invisibility cloak assured his passing unseen. You'd think with all the trouble he'd caused with the cloak, someone would have confiscated it by now. Of course they probably would if they knew even half the things he did with them unawares.

Dumbledore might have been the Headmaster of Hogwarts which entitled him certain sway with the resident ghosts but not even he could control a temperamental adolescent girl who died during his tenure.

Myrtle seemed to suffer from hormones for all 50 years she'd haunted her stall. For the smile of the green-eyed boy who sometimes came to visit her in the dead of the night and tell her of things she'd never had the chance to see Myrtle would break school rules.

She kept his secrets and he kept hers. The boy would go into the secret passage late at night and come back at all manner of time. She never asked what he did down there and he never said. But sometimes he'd bring her a rose or a poppy, and she could almost remember the terribly shy girl who had giggled behind school books as professors droned on. And she would dare to visit one of the kinder ghosts for a time before the world at large frightened her back to the scene of her death.

Harry slit down the passage of the Chamber of Secrets. Months of use had cleared some of the grime and dust but he still had to cast a cleaning spell on himself when he landed.

This was his retreat, his Sanctuary. And Dumbledore no matter how powerful could ever hope to find him here, not unless he kindly asked for Voldemort's help. Harry was pretty sure he wasn't that senile.

A silent spell made the surrounding torches light up the Hall of Slytherin. The dead basilisk had long since been salvaged into potion ingredients. Of course he'd kept a healthy stock, but all the excess he'd quietly sold of in Asia. That had been one of the first times he'd jump-apparated. A necessity, it was too easy to track basilisk's parts. Snape, as a Potion Master, was just too suspicious not to question that. The rarity of the parts would bring to mind the dead basilisk one reckless little boy had fought. By the time the parts made it to Britain, no doubt they would, they'd have switched hands so many times it would be impossible to track it to its source.

Harry had been astounded when he read up on how much the parts sold for; he'd been flabbergasted when he saw how much people were willing to pay. For all his excursions he needed a healthy supply of galleons with no paperwork attached.

The Golden Boy wasn't as golden.

Harry suspected Slytherin might have once used the Hall as his retreat. He certainly designed it for a prolonged stay. He'd found a dusty series of chambers, a general library, living rooms, training rooms still equipped with ageless weapons. Deeper into the bowels Harry explored; into areas where he was sure young Riddle never went into.

So Harry found the secrets one cunning ancient snake had hidden and the doorway from which Voldemort could have infiltrated the school long ago, the Passageway into the Forbidden Forest. Of course that wasn't nearly as exciting as Slytherin's secret library. Sure there were tomes of his scattered at Hogwarts library and various collections but this was his secret, his journals, where he hid things even he knew should stay out of the general populace, forgotten lore, things feared even in his time and of course Parsel-magic.

Parseltongue was just one of the effects common to those who wielded Parsel-magic. It was in itself a separate branch, like animagus and metamorphism. Just ability. The difficulty lay in controlling the power, more slippery than core magic, it was amazing and terrible. The potential to harness the powers of the snakes, whether the death-eyes of the basilisk or the poison of an asp among other things. And Harry possessing the singular ability to fail completely or succeeded beyond the wildest dream, took to it like a fish to water.

It was with one such spell that Harry was able to open the passageway guarded by an Indian cobra statue, following the obscure reference Slytherin made to the doorway in one journal. So the world opened before him…

He stepped outside, emerging from a cave hidden by two gnarled and ancient trees. Just a couple meters outside the wards on the other side of the lake. From there it was a simple matter to apparate into the Diagon Alley Apparition Station, cloaked in Parsel glamour spells able to resist simple finite incantatem. Only the counter Parsel- spell could remove it. So the wide-eyed blue eyed boy, with wavy brown hair smiled sheepishly at the operator and with a jolly grin emerged into Diagon Alley.

The shoppers where a little more wary than years previous but nothing really could dissuade them away from the buzz that was constant in the Alley. Harry didn't dare skulk about or cast notice-me-not charms. Trained Aurors could spot that a mile away. It was best to be hidden in plain sight. Harry's trained eye side, developed out of boredom when he played at spotting Order Members following him, easily picked up Aurors and members of the Order. He even recognized a couple by name. Had he been anyone else but the Boy-Who-Lived he would have been appalled to know that a boy was able to spot and name the law enforcement so easily, especially when Harry wasn't the sort to look for petty trouble. As it was, Harry knew what real trouble was.

Gringotts was up ahead. People strolled in and out. Harry was careful to avert his eyes from the inscription on the wall. It was a clever spell, designed to activate each time someone read it. People literally cast it on themselves when they read it. Slytherin had been fascinated by it in his journals, speculation on how to copy that bit of Goblin-magic.

The lines where relatively short, no doubt for fear an attack here would mark Harry Potter's birthday. Soon enough he made it to the front.

"Key?" sneered the goblin.

Lovely creatures, Harry thought sardonically. He supposed if he spent all day serving people who only seemed to care about how many rebellions his people had incited he'd be a tad disgruntled. Wizard opinion generally thought of goblins a step above house-elves. Their branch of magic was simple enough if completely unique but Harry knew the havoc their magic and weapons combined weaved. Active goblin-magic was slow, and generally forged onto metal but destructive with careful planning. There was a reason the Ministry kept the goblins suppressed within the bowels of Gringotts but did not interfere otherwise.

The bronze key was handed over.

"I request Igknots assistance." The goblin regarded him silently, losing the sneer that Harry betted was on his face all day.

"Very well. Step to the side and he'll be one moment."

Harry had long since come to terms with his paranoia. So much of his life had been engineered. The ignorant boy, starved for affection who was cultivated to save everyone because their life was 'more important' than his own. The gentle giant introduced to lay the groundwork for Gryffindor mentality. All the right people had suppressed him and all the right people had encouraged him till he was down the path of a reckless savior completely under Dumbledore's control. And he'd been too blind to see any of that. Ostracized enough so that his close friends were a Light wizard and a Muggle-born.

Paranoia was bound to be bred in his mind.

Igknots was like any other goblin but Harry's eyes recognized the goatee he'd been trying to grow on his pointed chin and the scar that ran down his cheek, courtesy of a close encounter with a dragon. Igknots was the goblin that had fist set up the unnamed vault where Harry hid his basilisk gold and items he acquired with less than questionable history. He'd be a fool to keep it in his trunk at school; he suspected that his things where periodically searched to protect him from 'improper influences' and as long as it protected him in their minds no one questioned the unethical activity.

Igknots had kept his secrets first out of a gold incentive later because he genuinely liked Harry.

"Greeting Igknots, may the gold of your hands grow from your labor."

The three-footed goblin nodded his head in the traditional greeting.

"Greeting Mr. Evans. May your labor yield you gold."

Goblins had a fascinating mentality, it seemed to revolve around gold. But maybe that was because Igknots was a teller directly involved with gold. The dragon-handlers probably greeted each other by saying something along the lines of 'may you run faster than the dragon's breath'…

"Is it possible to have a private meeting somewhere? I'd like to access the assets that fall under my inheritance."

"Very well Mr. Evans, if you'll follow me."

Igknots already knew enough of his life to have gathered the documents needed beforehand.

"The Potter Family estate is now legally transferred to the current heir, Mr. Harold James Evans Potter. As of the eighteenth of August of last year, Mr. Harold Potter was designated heir by the only living heir of the Black Family, Mr. Sirius Julius Black. The estate was signed over to Mr. Albus Dumbledore at the hearing of the will on the eighteenth of August."

Harry breathed lightly as he struggled with his anger. Two years ago he would have been hurt by the information before immediately becoming enraged. He suspected many things about that will, no doubt Dumbledore had seen fit to protect him from unnecessary grief. That summer at Grimmauld Place he remembered the Order whispering when they thought he wasn't there. About an 'estate'. Speculations on how much it was worth, mentions of exotic homes they've heard about over the years that belonged to the estate. At the time he hadn't wanted to believe, he'd even brought up the subject of who would inherit Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. All he'd gotten was a vague answer about the designated heir not being able to take charge of the house for the moment. Of course he couldn't if no one told him it was his.

"As of thirteenth of November of the last year, the Slytherin Estate designated Mr. Harold Potter as heir. The estate was signed over by Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the current trustee of the estate."

This time Harry did forget to breath.

'You will die by the Light or submit to the Dark. You have no Salvation.'

Voldemort….. was all Harry's numb brain could process. Swallowing thickly, Harry motioned the goblin to continue.

"All current properties are listed under their respective estate." Three moderately thick books where placed on the table between them. It listed a combined total of several dozen properties, most of them old. Though there were a couple modern penthouses under Black and Potter. Following that where hereditary items, including one invisibility cloak designated to be at Godric's Hallow,1965

"Said estates each warrant a heredity seat among the full session of the Wizengamot. The Slytherin inheritance warrants a seat among Hogwarts school board. All estates hold various appointees on the board of both magical and Muggle firms. For a full account please refer to the listing under 'Investments'"

Harry continued looking at the paperwork in a daze. He wasn't ready to think about Slytherin and Voldemort. It took him several months to reconcile himself to the Black inheritance he'd merely suspected. He'd be in denial for a while longer about this one.

"Any questions and concerns can be answered by your solicitor listed on the first page of each deed. Unfortunately all three estates are held by different solicitors. If you wish to make any changes in arrangements contact your solicitors.

"As standard procedure activated during any war a sample of your blood is requested to confirm any inheritance left to you by departed family member. The procedure is not required but is recommended."

Numbly Harry offered his hand. Igknots pricked his finger and let a couple of ruby drops fall into a silvery vortex that curved downward before ending at a sharp point that could only be described as a metallic quill. Clean parchment rested underneath.

Curiosity and unease warred in his head. He didn't want to see any surprises, knowing him it would be something more.

Igknots quietly handed the finished parchment after several moments.

July 31, 1997

Harold James Evans Potter

Potter Estate…………….designated by James Eunis Potter, 1981

Black Estate……………. designated by Sirius Julius Black, 1995

Slytherin Estate………… designated by Tom Marvolo Riddle, 1995

Morrigan Estate……….. designated by Oswald Gryer Morrigan, 1897

Wentforth Family……….designated by Eloise Harriet Potter Wentfort, 1980

If anything, the goblin looked pleased at the last names. After a few moments a surly goblin delivered two other deed-books from whatever summon Igknots had sent.

"The Morrigan Estate, much like Slytherin, does not hold stock in any modern company. It is moderately wealthy and does entitle you to a seat on the Wizengamot as well as a seat on the Hogwarts board as stipulated by Hogwarts' Morrigan associate, Rowena Ravenclaw. Morrigan Estate is traditionally only held by a male heir which barred inheritance from the late Mr. Morrigan's daughter and granddaughter but as his great-grandson you are designated heir. The Wentforth family was decimated in the last active war. The Estate held in trust by Mrs.Wentforth appointed her second cousin Mr. James Potter as heir. Mr. Potter never consolidated the Wentforth Estate with his own. The Estate consists of a Gringotts vault, a manor and a summer cottage. Wentforth only holds investments in the Daily Prophet and Madam Olina's Healer Supplies."

Harry nodded dumbly.

The only thing he could think about was how green Ron would be when he found out. And they would. They played on a double standard for so long it was only right Harry take his revenge. They were all so confident Voldemort would not attack. They left him with virtually no guards but they still felt he was prone to be attacked so they restricted the information he was privy to. And everyone felt it was such a burden for the fragile boy to hear about even public news. Without Amos and several of his other friends Harry wouldn't know a damn thing.

It was the Wizengamot votes he loved. The Mugwump wouldn't know what hit him. A full Wizengamot had a multitude of seats for wizarding families. The seats were prized in this world but usually the families feared a consolidation of power so there never really was anyone with more than one or two votes.

Harry ruled over four votes, he dare not use one though. He'd just love to see the articles printed about him going dark because Voldemort had the ridiculous idea to make him heir.

Four votes, legal emancipation, no magic restriction, more money than he'd ever care to know about...the world was wide open.

Now all he had to do was end a war.

TBC………….

Caliga- Latin for darkness

Morrigan -as in The Morrigan, symbolized by a Raven (Ravenclaw)…..cute, huh?