Previously on Defiance...

Harry's eyes widened. "I was obliviated?"

"It was more than a memory spell, young Lord. The memory has been hidden from everyone using one of the most powerful spells in Wizarding magic. The Fidelius."

Bill's eyes were large, gaping holes. "Someone hid away a portion of Harry's memories by a Fidelius? Is that even possible?"

Nagnok nodded. "The Fidelius can be used to hide nearly almost anything that has a non-tangible nature. Locations, secrets, information..." he left the statement open-ended. "Fortunately, we goblins have a way to find out the source; that is to say- we can track out the person that cast the spell."

"Who was it? Who cast the Fidelius?"


There are moments when one feels to simply so fed up of things and run away. Again, there are moments when one feels to search for a rock to hide under it. This was one of those moments.

"I- I cast the spell?" Harry asked with a tone filled with disbelief and shock.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, Chief Shaman," Bill intervened, "but the Fidelius is an incredibly complicated incantation with various esoteric requirements. Even I cannot cast the spell properly. Surely Harry cannot have-"

"I don't even know what the spell particularly does; let alone how to cast the spell." Harry challenged.

Nagnok frowned. "My inference is not wrong, young Lord. You cast the spell, you revealed the secret of the memory to someone you held as the secret keeper, and," he paused, "you did it during the fight in the graveyard, and if my calculations are correct, sometime between the moment when you were stuck in Priori Incantatem, and the moment you touched the Cup. One single spell and you removed a complete set of memories from every mind present there, including your own."

"But why would I do that? Assuming that I could do it in the first case." Harry challenged.

"I cannot answer that. I can only tell you what inferences I made from studying whatever I got from you." Nagnok replied simply.

"So, you mean to tell me, that not even Voldemort-"

"The Fidelius removed the memory from every mind present there. No one knows what happened or might have happened." Nagnok pressed. "No one else, apart from the secret keeper, now knows the secret of your lost memories."

Nagnok's words fell like lightning on his mind. How in the world had he cast the Fidelius, which Bill described as a very complicated incantation? He could have sworn that he had never even read anything of that sort before. He swallowed. "What else can you tell me, Chief- Shaman?"

For some reason, the old goblin looked pleased. "As I mentioned, you were hit by the killing curse. My inference is that it happened during the very event- the one whose memories are hidden from you at the moment. When the killing curse hit you, for some reason once again, it did not kill you. Instead, it changed your magic. So magically, in a weird way, you are Harry Potter, but you are not the Harry Potter you once were."

"I am Harry Potter and I am not? I do not understand." Harry asked in a completely oblivious tone.

"Every magical witch, wizard or creature has a magical signature. It is what defines him or her. The Ministry tracks this magical signature to find out if magic has been cast in presence of a muggle. For some reason, when you were hit by the curse, you did not die but it did change your magical signature. That is the reason why wandless magic has become so easy for you. Your new magic is very well tuned to your core and can draw out magic without a wand, though I would suggest getting one from your family Vault if not buy a new one. Your original wand- it was compatible with your previous signature, but completely incompatible with your new one." The old goblin paused for a moment, allowing Harry to understand what he was saying, "Tell me, young Lord, have you noticed any other differences about you since the event?" His eyes surreptitiously went towards the lightning bolt scar.

"Now that you mention it, I haven't had any pains in my scar since then." Harry confessed. It was such a small matter, plus with the nightmares and everything, I didn't think it important. Why? Does it make a difference?"

Nagnok glanced at the scar speculatively. What was once an angry red scar was now dimmed and almost normal looking. He closed his eyes for a moment. "I believe I will need to conduct certain... tests on the subject. Can I ask you to give me some of your blood for the tests?"

Harry agreed unconditionally.

"Fine. The charges for this will be charged from your account, of course. Is that all?" Nagnok concluded.

Harry hesitated. "I do not mean to be rude, but why did you address me as 'young Lord'?"

Nagnok raised his eyebrows as he glanced towards Bill. "Surely he knows?"

Bill looked half-confused and half-hesitant. He turned to Harry and asked, "Harry, you do know about your heritage and family, right?" Harry looked back at him with saucers for eyes. "My heritage? Family? What are you talking about?"

Crap. Bill decided. This was going to take some time. "I have no idea why Dad didn't tell you, but you are the last living descendant, and thus Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. I think we need to visit your account manager, he will be able to explain it to you at length."

Harry felt bitter inside. He was so used to having the least possible information all his life that it didn't even come as a shock. Dumbledore, Mcgonagall, the Dursleys, Lupin and now Mr. Weasley, it seemed everyone thought him unworthy of having any information. It felt bitter. Very, very bitter.

"Let's go." He ground out. Nodding towards the old goblin, he whispered, "Thank you Chief Shaman, I will wait for the results."

"I will send a missive when it is done." Nagnok advised. Bill took the opportunity to bow and dart away from the room, swiftly followed by a very bitter Harry Potter masked by his cloak.


"What do you mean you never received any of our summons?" thundered the goblin seated opposite the two of them. "We even received letters from you, saying that you were not ready to take up the Lordship at the moment and wanted to delay it till the age of seventeen!"

Harry was now getting angry. "Account manager Ripclaw, I swear I did not know anything about it. I never once received a single letter from Gringotts."

"Your guardian says the opposite." Ripclaw countered sassily.

"I have a guardian?" Harry wondered aloud in surprise. Ripclaw looked like he was about to skin him off with his bare nails. Considering how sharp and shiny they were, Harry could not help but shiver at the thought of the gruesome death that might come over him in the not-so-distant future.

"Albus Dumbledore is your magical guardian. I have letters," he paused, levitating a bunch of files from a nearby desk towards his table. "He has specifically mentioned it that you have particularly stated that-"

"I have never taken any decision regarding my family and heritage. For Merlin's sake, I never even knew I had a fucking heritage to live for." Harry replied hotly. He stood up from his seat and banged on the table, his aura showing up again. "Is that so difficult to understand?"

The goblin stared blankly at the aura rising up from the very angry wizard standing in front of him. Knowing what was good for him, he changed track.

"Then, Mister Potter, we have a problem."


Thirty Minutes later.

"Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your ascension, Lord Potter." Ripclaw shook his hand, as Harry nodded. Bill gave him a brotherly hug and slapped his shoulder in appreciation.

"Thanks Bill, Ripclaw. Can I please visit my family Vault next?"

"Yes, Lord Potter. What would you like to do with your trust Vault?"

"I would like to keep it for now. In addition, I need to withdraw a substantial amount of money today. I hope that wouldn't be a problem." Harry replied confidently, inwardly wondering how he was able to deal with such stressful situations so confidently. The older Harry would have perhaps tried to reject everything, sit down, and brood. For a moment, he could not help but be fond of the changes that had come in him. For one, his mind felt clearer than ever. Dumbledore had manipulated too many parts of his life, and to be honest, he was more than tired of giving in to the old man's orders. Perhaps it was the rebellious nature of youth, perhaps not, but one thing was clear. He was not going to allow Albus Dumbledore lead him around by the nose.

"Sure."

The trio reached for the goblin cart track and started on their journey to the Potter family vault. The cart drove faster and faster on the high-winding track and Harry could spot many common names on the vaults as they crossed them- Black, Bones, Crabbe, Greengrass... it finally crossed Malfoy and Mcmillian and finally he felt the cart slow down with a wild lurch and came at a standstill at Potter.

"The Potter Family Vault. Upkeep costs are barely noticeable with your current holdings, as I know, please advance to the vault door and place your left hand and wand on the door", Ripclaw announced.

A few seconds later, the door glowed with a silvery shimmer. Harry looked at the door and saw it fade from sight to reveal the contents of the vault inside. The first room contained more gold than Harry could believe existed. The room was quite large and the gold was neatly stacked in rows and set into trays, which were stacked from floor to ceiling. The stacks filled the room to where only a narrow path was open for a person to walk to the next room. The defined barrier in the wall shimmered and vanished as Harry approached it.

The second room had more gold in it, but only a few stacks reached the ceiling and the remaining few stacks were only a few feet high. Harry found much of the remaining room filled with books. Shelves and shelves of books lined the walls and again a small walkway was left open. The next room was filled with paintings, armor, furniture, jewels, and other heirloom type of things. Harry was looking at clothes that seemed a few hundred years out of date.

"This is all mine?" Harry asked.

"This and all other vaults that are attached to the Potter family by means of individual investments that keep on increasing the monetary worth of your family vault." Ripclaw explained.

"I was never told about any of this." He muttered to himself.

"I will speak to Dad about it. He should have told you about it. Then again, he might have thought that you already knew. Perhaps Dumbledore-" Bill began.

Harry felt his left eye twitch in irritation at the mention of that despicable man's name. "Dumbledore has fucked up too many things in my life, Bill."

Bill nodded and did not counter it. "We should be quick Harry, or else someone will spot your absence."

"So people can spy on me, but cannot tell me what is going on. I suppose even Ron and Hermione are in this, aren't they? Their letters-"

"Dumbledore prevented them to contact you, for your-"

"Of course. Of course." Harry countered coldly. For some reason, Bill didn't refute. His eyes wandered towards the heirloom section where he could see several boxes of wands arranged. "Harry, perhaps you could check with one of those wands. Maybe someone in your family had a wand compatible with you?"

Harry paused, and thought about his advice. It made sense. He had no wish to display his newfound wandless ability in front of everyone. It could be his ace-in-the-hole. He needed a wand. A proper wand.

He walked towards the cabinet that displayed the wands. Small trays with each tray holding the wands from each generation. He took out the first tray and reverentially caressed the surface of the wands on it, knowing it were his parents' wands.

They felt cold. Dead.

Sadness gripped him. He took out the next tray.

Still nothing.

Five trays passed off, and yet there was no wand reacting to him even by a small part.

He was almost about to give up hope when his glance fell on a small box placed at the bottom. Instinctively, he picked it up and opened it. Inside it were five wands. The first four showed no reaction but the fifth-

The moment his fingers touched the surface of the fifth wand, an extremely familiar tinge of magic caressed against his skin. Almost automatically, he lifted the wand up and held it in his hand. An enormous amount of magic surged into him, as his aura shone brightly with a powerful wind all around him. The pressure of magic all around him was so great that he could hardly breathe. Just as quickly as it had come, the extreme pressure dissipated, and he almost fell down on the floor, so taxing the ordeal had been.

"Harry," Bill cried out in shock, "Harry, are you all right?" he lunged towards him, holding the boy before he fell.

"I am okay," Harry replied, still breathing heavy. The magic around the wand had somehow taken a heavy toll on him. "This wand," he held it towards Bill, "it feels nice. Stronger and more familiar than my phoenix wand ever did."

Bill carefully held the wand in his hands. Yew. Yew stood for power and rebirth. It was quite long, approximately thirteen inches, according to his estimation. He handed it over to Harry who took it back.

"Whose wand is it?"

Harry shrugged.

"If I may, perhaps I will be able to help you with that titbit?" Ripclaw proposed. Harry gestured as the goblin walked into the chamber and observed the box carefully. "This is a family wand."

"A family wand?" Bill asked curiously.

"Yes, a wand which has passed down through at least fifteen descendants down the family, and whose original master is unknown. Usually, the new master of a family wand resurfaces during the event of a possible prophecy." Harry answered almost hypnotically, and then he paused, ignoring the looks on Ripclaw and Bill's face. "How did I know that?"

"That is essentially correct, Lord Potter." Ripclaw stared at Harry oddly for a moment. "I do not really expect wizards to know about family wands, Mister Potter. They are a part of much obscure concepts lost to wizard kind."

Harry shrugged, inwardly trying to think how in the seven hells did he know what a family wand meant.

"Let's go." Bill urged, not really in the mood for any more groundbreaking revelations and surprises. Harry shrugged and collected the gold he came for, before departing from the vault.


"Get the cloak back on, Harry." Bill advised as they stepped into the main corridor that led to the tellers. "We do not need anyone to see you, or else both you and I will have to suffer an entire interrogation session." Bill sulked.

Harry smirked. "Who are these people you are so afraid of, Bill? And why are they spying on me?"

They stepped into the main corridor, Harry once again enveloped and masked by his cloak. His cloak seemed to stick to him magically, almost as if hugging him. Had the situation been any different, he would have noticed, but given the number of revelations he had had throughout the day, it seemed too inconsequential to him.

"I can't tell you, Harry. Dumbledore's orders. Anyway, you will get to find it out soon enough. Now all we need is to get you back at home safe and no one will need to know what-"

His voice stopped midway, as his words remained back in his throat. An ethereal swan Patronus floated towards him, and a very feminine voice answered, "Dementors have attacked Privet Drive. Potter's relatives are dead. Potter is missing. Report soon."

Fuck.

"Harry?"

"Harry?"

Harry stood still, still at a loss to understand how or what had happened. "How—how did the dementors find my place, Bill?"

"I don't know. Dementors are in control of the Ministry. For them to go rogue and try to kill you, it simply means that they have sided with the dark lord once again." Bill surmised. "There is no point in maintaining this façade any more. Anyone asks, I went to Privet Drive and found you at the- the-" He grasped for ideas.

"The gym. There is a new gym in Surrey. I was at the gym and was returning back and you found me there."

"Right. So this gym, where is it actually?"

Harry took five minutes to explain the proper location of the gym. For proper evidence, Bill apparated to the spot with Harry and then apparated away. "This is the place where we are going to enter. But, wait here first and don't remove the cloak." Bill ordered.

Still under his cloak, Harry could see the grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps. The muffled pounding of a stereo was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from the pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate.

Bill suddenly apparated in front of him and replied hastily. "Put your cloak away, Harry." As soon as he did so, he thrust a piece of parchment towards him. Harry took it and read the narrow and vaguely familiar writing.

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

"What is the Order of the-"

"Not here," Bill whispered urgently. "Wait till we're inside!" He pulled the piece of parchment out of Harry's hand and set fire to it with his wand tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, Harry looked around at the houses again. They were standing outside number eleven; he looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen.

"But where's —?"

"Think about what you've just memorized," said Bill quietly. Harry thought, and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. Harry gaped at it. The stereo in number eleven thudded on. Apparently the Muggles inside had not even felt anything.

The Fidelius...

Briefly wondering once again how he had actually cast a Fidelius all by himself, Harry walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the newly materialized door. Its black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver doorknocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox. Bill pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Harry heard many loud, metallic clicks and something that sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

"Get in quick, Harry," Bill whispered. "But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

Harry stepped in.