Chapter 6

A goblin named Thror was escorting the still shaken and dazed Nicholas, Sirius, and Remus, and a slightly confused and puzzled Harry.

They never look at me like that, not even when I pull a prank, like when I turned Moony and Padfoot purple polka dotted. Harry thought, noticing the adults' wary and awed fleeting looks in his direction. And I haven't pulled a prank in a while. Maybe I should put that itching powder in Granmama and Granddad's bed? Yeah, that sounds good. That sound real good. But how to pull it off? How can I pull it off without getting caught…

Harry drifted off into his happy thoughts of pranking his family, barely noticing when Sirius lifted him in to the mine cart. He noticed, though, when Thror put the cart on full throttle.

Oh well, I'll think on it later, when I have more time. This is amazing!

"Is it over already?" he moaned, when Thror had brought the cart to a stop. "That was awesome, even better than Quidditch!"

Thror looked a little taken aback. "That's the first time we've ever had a non-goblin complement the mine cart service." Then he smiled, showing every single last pointy tooth. "Perhaps we were just waiting for the right customer. In any case, Mr. Potter, you just won me quite a few galleons in bet money."

"How much is quite a few?"

"I believe it is four million, to be exact, Mr. Potter, is what I won. I think a few bottles of Goblin Firewhisky went with it, but…"

Nicholas cleared his throat firmly, drawing Thror's attention away from his musings of newfound wealth.

Thror scowled at him. "Yes, yes, Lord Flamel, the Potter vault." He walked up to the huge brass door and brushed his finger down the side of one of the intricately decorated panels. The door shuddered, and creaked loudly as it opened bit by bit.

Harry was suddenly blinded by the bright glow of golden galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. He staggered back a little, leaning slightly on the comforting presence of Remus' legs. When his eyes had adjusted to the glinting of light off the metal, he was still a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of gold in the huge vault.

Gems of all sorts and sizes were scattered among the coins. Nicholas could see diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, peridots, pearls, aquamarines, feldspars, garnets, jades, lapis lazuli, opals, nacres, topazes, turquoises, ambers, and many different types of quartz.

"Who enters the Vault of House Potter?" a deep voice called from within the cavernous vault.

Sirius and Remus gasped as they recognized the voice, the voice of a man they had known to be dead for the last five years…

Harry began to grow in majesty again, as he had in the Entrance Hall. "I, Lord Harry James Merlinus-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw-Flamel-Potter-Black, son of James and Lily, enter the Vault of my ancestors, which is mine by blood, mine by magic, and mine by right."

"I, Lord Charles Tiberius Potter, son of William and Rosemary, give to you the ownership of the Vault of House Potter, which is mine by blood, mine by magic, and mine by right. It is now yours by blood," a glow of bronze light surrounded Harry, "Yours by magic," a second radiance, this one of silver, enveloped him, "And yours by right. May Merlin smile upon you." A third light encircled Harry, golden and sparkling.

The lights faded, and Harry went back to being the prank-happy, but otherwise quite mature three-year old he always was. He looked up at the bemused adults rather smugly, as if begging them to ask the question on their minds.

So Sirius did. "Harry, what in all the nine levels was that?!"

The voice shouted again. "I think I can answer that question better than my grandson can, Sirius."

"Mr. Potter!" Sirius and Remus yelled at the same time, and ran into the vault, with Nicholas and Harry trialing along behind them. They saw a portrait hanging upon the granite wall.

The man depicted in the oil painting was seated upon a dark wooden chair, dressed in long black robes. Black hair, just as messy as Harry's – and James' – capped his head, his coffee colored eyes shining from beneath rough black brows, and behind silver-rimmed glasses. He smiled a soft, honest smile. "Boys, how many times did I ask you to call me Charles?"

"Too many times to count." Sirius said, smirking.

"To answer your question, Sirius, I think that because Harry is the head of so many powerfully magical families, and while so young, his magic is aging to cope with the many gifts that comes with that. He won't look changed physically, but he may occasionally show his Mage status, meaning that he speaks in the correct form, no matter how young or uncomfortable he is. It's not something that anyone can control, so don't try to do so." Charles touched his white haired temple with one craggy and wrinkled hand. "Now, I think that Harry should go into that corner..." he gestured with his free hand to a part of the vault "... and find a certain breastplate."

Harry walked over to the corner that Charles had indicated. As he strode over there, a large metallic thing caught his eye. He walked over and took a closer look. The thing was a piece of shining silvery-white plate armor. He picked up the big piece of metal – which was surprisingly light – and walked back over to his grandfather's portrait.

"Aha! Aye, that's it, lad. That armor was made by the Goblin Nation for Wolfram Potter, the first Potter, back in the Middle Ages. It's made of a blend of mercury, silver, and iron that is nearly impossible to produce. It's lighter than most other metals, and harder than dragon hide..." he trailed off for a moment.

A gasp went up from Remus, Sirius, and Nicholas as the large breastplate shrunk, becoming small enough to fit Harry. "I was waiting to see if it would do that." Charles continued. "It resizes itself to fit warriors of the Light that are worthy to be protected by it.

"And now, I suggest you go and find out about the other families Harry is head of. You could spend all day in this vault, but really, do you want to stay in here all day and miss out on seeing the other vaults?" Seeing the mass shaking of heads he grinned. "I thought not. Get along now, you've a lot ahead of you!"

And with that they left the Potter Vault, the brass door creaking shut before closing with a clang.