Disclaimer: Any and all familiar-looking things that seem like you've seen them somewhere before are not owned or affiliated with me. These things may include, but are not limited to: the various works of J.K. Rowling; the Doctor Who, Supernatural, Assassin's Creed, Dragon Ball (Z, GT and Super), and Disney franchises. Others may be mentioned, and they are all owned and created by their own various owners, not me.

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Harry followed the goblin with well-hidden nervousness through a few hallways in Gringotts. Who knew not having his key would be such an issue? He was really regretting letting Molly keep it for the summer again, but risking the Dursleys extorting it from him somehow was just too risky. Or, at least, it seemed that way at the time…

The goblin abruptly stopped at one of the dozens of identical doors in the hall, knocked twice, poked his head in and snarled something guttural at whoever was inside. Was that native goblin? Wonder if I could learn it, or at least understand it. Harry's escort received a snarl in return, prompting the goblin to open the door fully and wave him in with a toothy grin. He gave a confused look in return, but the goblin's only response was to shut the door behind him.

"Sit," prompted a voice in the room with an audible sneer. Turning to face the voice, and totally not panicking, Harry saw another goblin with sharper features sitting at a plain office desk. Said desk was currently empty but for a shallow bowl, an ornate knife, and a long piece of parchment. The goblin waved to the seat in front of him impatiently, looking grumpy. Harry sat smoothly in the chair and looked at the bowl again. It seemed to be made of a brownish clay, and was adorned with many carvings. At a second glance, he realized that the carvings weren't decorative, but functional: both the inside and outside were covered in runes. Noticing similar, but far fewer, runes on the blade next to it, he came to a conclusion. The set was meant to use his blood to properly ascertain his identity. Something he was NOT comfortable with.

Over the past few weeks, Harry had been reading many, many books, a good deal of which were magical fantasy. It gave him a good general idea of how magic, in principle, worked. One common theme in many of said books was DO, NOT, MESS, WITH, BLOOD MAGIC. Aside from being incredibly dangerous and morally abhorrent, because usually human sacrifice was involved, blood magic as a whole was extremely versatile. It was easily within the realm of possibility that, with only a drop of blood, someone could kill you from halfway across the world without you even realizing it until you were at death's door. In fact, that very thing happened once: an evil witch made a voodoo doll and tied to the king of a neighboring country using a week-old, blood soaked rag stolen from his personal quarters. After traveling high in the mountains, she simply stabbed the doll through the heart with a leatherworking needle and then buried it. The king died, presumably of a heart attack, in that same moment. Moral of the story: never let your blood out of your sight without it being burned, cleaned, or having suitable precautions in place to make sure you won't die of mysterious circumstances.

Knowing this, Harry first questioned the goblin: "I was under the impression blood magic was illegal in Britan."

The goblin sneered, "Gringotts is sovereign territory, and as such is not subject to the laws you petty wizards concoct in your fool ministry."

"And what assurances do I have that none of my blood will be 'misplaced' and used for… nefarious purposes?" Harry was extremely thankful for his now increased vocabulary. The Harry people knew would never have been able to talk like this. He could probably give a good show against the senior Malfoy now, if he had to.

"While your concern is understandable, Gringotts does not make a habit of endangering its clientele. However, should you prove to be someone other than who you say you are… The consequences would be quite lethal, I assure you," the goblin said, giving another toothy, eager grin.

Harry paused for a moment, then decided to indulge himself, "How lethal, exactly?"

"Seeing as the person you are attempting to impersonate is currently quite popular and valuable to the ministry, I would say… somewhere between months in Azkaban to immediate execution." The bloodlust on the word "execution" was easily palpable. Still, it had nothing on Ol' Voldy.

"Well, I am pleased to see that you take your security so seriously," Harry replied as he easily leaned over to take the knife, none of his earlier tension apparent now. "Palm or wrist?"

The goblin blinked in surprise at the sudden change in attitude and casual question. "Palm," it still managed to say.

Harry easily dragged the razor-sharp ritual blade across his hand and squeezed it to let a small pool of blood form in the bowl before moving away. A small rush of heat flooded the wound, and he looked to see it completely healed. The goblin had recovered by now and tapped the bowl muttering something in its species tongue that caused the bowl to glow a pale blue for all of a second. It waited another three before lifting the bowl and pouring the blood on the near-forgotten parchment. The blood pooled, then soaked into the paper and began to write. A tree-like structure began to form, and Harry caught sight of "Lily Potter nee Evans" before it was snatched up by the goblin.

Harry waited patiently for the goblin's perusal to finish, and observed it closely. He hadn't noticed before, but its clothes weren't made of cotton or wool or similar materials. If he had to guess, it bore a close resemblance to leather padded armor he had seen an illustration of in a manual somewhere. There was also a dagger on each hip in the same kind of leather. The goblin's preparation was admirable.

The notes Harry was making were suddenly interrupted when he noticed it's expression had changed. The furrowed brow, slight frown, and narrowed eyes spelled out a greater part confusion with an undertone of suspicion.

"Mr. Potter," the goblin suddenly spoke, "to your knowledge, are there any siblings you may have?"

Harry was caught off guard with the abrupt query. "Er, no, sir…"

"This test says that you do. However, said sibling has no connection to either of your birth parents somehow"

Harry suddenly had a thought that churned his stomach at the thought. He sighed and put his head in his palm, resigning himself to it if his hunch was right. "What was his name?"

"Tom Marvalo Riddle, Jr."

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A/N: PLOT TWIST! Haha, don't worry, they won't be making friendly anytime soon. All will be revealed, next time on Words- The Best Weapons in the World! Thoughts or suggestions? Tell me in a review, or just a PM. 'til next time!