Chapter 7
Once they were all seated, Ironclaw looked at them solemnly. "Before we begin, let me assure you that nothing spoken in this room will be repeated to another without your express consent." He pointed to the door. "The knob is made with pure obsidian and has privacy and secrecy wards anchored to it, ensuring confidentiality."
Harry's interest was piqued. When he had researched wizarding wards, the Fidelius Charm seemed to be the safest option, and even that was limited by several factors, not least the intricacy and power needed to perform the charm and the reliability of the secret keeper. And yet, it appeared to be standard in Gringotts to have such wards in every room, with only an easily obtainable – albeit glossy – rock as the cornerstone.
Beside him, Hermione looked like she was barely holding herself back from inspecting every inch of it and taking it apart layer by layer.
Fingers steepled, Ironclaw hummed as he considered each of them in turn, his gaze finally resting on Harry. "I must confess that since you entered my office, not a single moment has gone the way I expected. You have honoured your agreement with a goblin and returned the sword of Gryffindor. You intervened where many wizards would have watched with no qualms as I poisoned myself. You have enlightened me to the secret of Tom Riddle's immortality and further proven that you yourself housed one of the pieces of his soul. And you have a phrase carved in the back of your hand that was not a result of any signature given at Gringotts. You are a very strange wizard, Harry Potter."
Ron snorted. "Well, that's Harry for you. Blowing everyone's expectations out of the water with death-defying stunts that make your life expectancy shorten a few decades every time …" Harry thought he heard something about "dragons" and "grey hairs" in the muttering that followed.
A small frown was the only indication that Ironclaw had heard Ron. "In any event, I had hoped to meet you much sooner. If not during your fourth year, at least during the reading of Sirius Black's will. However, I appreciate that it must have been a difficult decision; after all, you were a major player in the war. I presume you elected to wait until you were able to look over everything at your leisure?"
"Er …" Harry was getting tired of turning to Hermione every time he didn't have an answer, but it was difficult to tamp down on the ingrained instinct. For once, Hermione looked as bewildered as he felt.
"Harry, you haven't met with your account manger yet? Assuming that's what you are?" Ron inquired to Ironclaw.
The goblin merely nodded, looking increasingly grim with every word.
"What do you mean, Ron? I hardly see how it matters since I haven't seen my account manager either. And I'm older than both of you," Hermione reminded.
Ron rolled his eyes. "That's because you're a Muggle-born, Hermione," he said, and winced at her expression. "No, not like that! It's just that the only account you'd have is the one you opened when you first entered the wizarding world. Harry here would've had years and years of Potter wealth accumulating in his vaults, so of course he needs to come to Gringotts!" He looked taken aback at the uncomprehending looks on their faces. "Blimey, Harry, has no one told you about your Lordship?"
Harry wanted to cry out in frustration. There was that term again: Lordship. "Dea– He mentioned Lordships too, when I met him," he said, looking at them meaningfully, "but I don't know what that means! Besides, when would I have met my account manager, exactly? Between watching Voldemort get resurrected and getting attacked by dementors? Or when I was under lockdown at the Dursleys? Or maybe while I was Undesirable No. 1 and scouring the country for Horcruxes? Why does everyone assume that I know everything about the wizarding world when I was as ignorant as Hermione before I got my letter?"
"Mate, we know that you're basically a Muggle-born in terms of knowledge," Ron said nervously, "but I thought someone would have told you by now, that's all." Harry felt the ire rush out of him at Ron's apologetic flush. "Seems stupid now. 'S not really surprising that Dumbledore kept you in the dark about this too, and Sirius, well, he was on the run for most of fourth year and you barely had any time with him in the fifth."
"Am I to understand," Ironclaw interrupted, sounding a bit menacing, "that Harry Potter does not know a single thing related to his inheritance?"
Harry felt a bit indignant – it wasn't exactly his fault that no one saw fit to tell him these things.
When it was clear that none of them were denying his observation, Ironclaw sighed. "This will be our foremost priority then. Am I correct in assuming that Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley will be remaining with you during the proceedings?"
At Harry's assent, the goblin clapped his hands together. "Very well. Now, the first thing that needs to be done is finding out the families that you are heir to. We can expect Potter and probably Black, but beyond that would be pure conjecture."
Harry's alarm must have shown on his face, for Ironclaw clarified, "Inheritance is almost entirely dependent on magic, Mr. Potter. However, as the sole direct remaining member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, you are all but the default heir. The order of succession of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is slightly more complex, as most pureblood families are connected to the family in one way or another. However, you are still one of the closest relatives of Sirius Black through your grandmother Dorea Black-Potter. Furthermore, the late Lord Black's wish to pass on the title to you will have an influence on the magic; after all, magic is based on intent.
"For you to be eligible for any other inheritances, the Lordship of a family must be inactive and you must have some tie to it. The familial magic will consider you and if you are the worthiest of the contenders, you will receive the Lordship."
The more Ironclaw explained, the less Harry was liking it. The whole thing sounded like a load of obscure mumbo jumbo, and knowing his luck, things were going to get complicated fast. Not that it wasn't already a hot, boiling mess. Fat lot of good his extra research did, when he didn't study any aspects of the wizarding world outside of the subjects offered at Hogwarts. "But what if I don't want any other Lordships? Can't I just claim the Potter Lordship and be done with it?"
Ironclaw's eyes gleamed in amusement. "Magic is not a pet that rolls over on command, Mr. Potter. If anything, it is the other way around. If it deems you worthy, you will accept." His tone was final.
Harry heard an echoing laughter in his head. Just peachy. 'Gold star for timing, Death,' he thought wryly.
'It would have been remiss of me to leave my Master without support on this very momentous occasion,' Death replied, mirth evident in his tone.
It was a near thing for Harry not to snort out loud. 'Yeah, yeah. Admit it, you just want to watch and laugh as magic screws with me again. Since I'm 'marked by Fate' or whatever, I'll probably end up with a dozen Lordships and have an army of pureblood families out for my blood for stealing their titles.'
'Shush now, that's not very nice. Be a good hero and listen to the goblin, he's going to explain how to claim your titles.'
" … the lights out."
Harry just caught a glimpse of an ice-coloured bowling ball-sized gem in the centre of the floor before the lanterns were extinguished. Hermione wasn't able to stifle an awestruck gasp, and he couldn't blame her.
In front of them, the stone was ascending slowly towards the ceiling, glowing ethereally and shooting out pulses of blue-white light at irregular intervals. As it rose higher, Harry realised that the pulses of light were actually acting like hooks, catching at unseen points on the intricate domed ceiling. Finally it stopped, and the gem hung suspended by the ropes of light like a ghostly chandelier.
Gradually, so subtly that Harry scarcely noticed it happening, the moon-like glow unveiled rows upon rows of doors. Lining every inch of the circular wall were doors of varying shapes and sizes and intricacy. Some were plain square doors like the one that had held the Philosopher's Stone, others were embossed with large emblems – he was sure he had caught a flash of the Hogwarts coat of arms – while still others were ostentatious masses of wrought iron inlaid with precious jewels.
The hushed voice of Ironclaw reached his ears. "Mr. Potter, now you must pull out your magic and concentrate a beam of it into the Sphere of Fortune."
"How – how do I do that?"
The goblin growled exasperatedly, and Death muttered in his head about 'education standards' and 'kids these days'. "You have performed wandless magic, have you not? Picture that sensation and pool it into the palm of your hand."
Harry thought back to the desperate Lumos he had performed in Little Whinging and all the subsequent painstakingly practiced and perfected charms and spells. He closed his eyes and unconsciously fell into the pattern of regulated breathing he used when meditating before a session of Occlumency.
"Yes … that's it … now direct the magic at the Sphere," Ironclaw whispered.
When Harry opened his eyes, his hand was bathed in wavy, flowing tides of light similar to that of the Sphere. In the radiance, he could make out Ron's and Hermione's faces awash with wonderment.
Taking a deep breath, he willed his magic to rise, and almost jumped out of his skin as it surged up and shot into the gem. The light propelled out of the Sphere in arcs and connected to various doors on the wall, and the remaining doors swiftly faded out. Without warning, the Sphere dropped in a freefall from the ceiling as though its strings had been cut. Harry braced himself for the inevitable crash and glimpsed Ron and Hermione doing the same, but the Sphere merely touched the floor in a gentle thud.
Death chuckled. 'You can breathe, you know.'
The lanterns were lit again, and they blinked rapidly. Harry felt disoriented, like he had just done ten consecutive Wronski Feints and suddenly braked to a stop.
Ironclaw was already seated behind his desk and putting the Sphere away. Behind him, now level with the floor, were the doors that the Sphere had connected to. Five of them. The goblin looked like Christmas had come early; he only needed to rub his hands together in glee to complete the picture. Death's anticipation was almost palpable, and Harry was exponentially more apprehensive.
"Well, well, Mr. Potter. It looks like magic favours you a great deal; you have been quite fortuitous. While not the number of titles that I had half-expected, you certainly have obtained an exclusive array. Houses Potter and Black of course, as expected," he said, gesturing to two of the doors. "Gryffindor, which I should have foreseen as you have wielded the sword," he added, pointing to a third door. "Even Slytherin is plausible, as you have defeated the last heir. Peverell …" Ironclaw paused, eyeing them curiously. The suffocating quality of Death's silent smugness had Harry wishing the being would take a physical form just so he could wring the bastard's neck. "It seems I am the only one that is surprised by this particular development, however …"
Ironclaw was right. That he was heir to the Peverell family was decidedly underwhelming after Death had informed him of his immortal status, but Gryffindor and Slytherin were both shocks to him. Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or utterly stunned. On one hand, five was much more manageable than the dozen that he had initially feared but … he was still heir to two of the founders.
"You really don't do things by half, eh, mate?" Ron choked. He was outright laughing at him, and even Hermione was smiling fondly. Some friends they were, the traitors.
Miffed, he proceeded to ignore them and turned his attention back to Ironclaw. "Yes, Peverell isn't very surprising, even if it is a bit unexpected. My father had left me an heirloom which I later discovered was passed down from … the Peverells."
Ironclaw did not look entirely convinced but accepted the half-truth with a nod and beckoned him up to his desk. "Very well. We can now carry on with claiming your Lordships. Begin with Potter, as it is the one to which you have the closest tie." He led Harry to the door on the very left.
The entrance was a stately design of steel with a large golden crest gleaming in the centre. Running through the crest was a stripe of red in the shape of an inverted V.
'A chevron,' Death explained. 'Signifying protection and faithfulness. It is a common element in many pureblood crests, as family is held above anything else. Every colour and symbol on the crest – the gold crest, the red chevron, the blue stags, and the white crown – represents something that the family stands for, and the motto brings out the essence of their nature.' It was then that Harry noticed the string of Latin words inscribed under the crest.
Fortis et astutus. Bold and crafty.
Huh. Maybe he hadn't been the only Potter with Slytherin tendencies after all.
Peering closer, Harry noted that at the bottom tip of the crest, just above the motto, were two slots that each held a signet ring, one slightly bigger than the other, and both with the Potter coat of arms.
Ironclaw ran a gnarled finger under them. "As you can see, on the door of each vault are the Lordship and Heir rings. The ring that gives way at your touch is the one meant for you. However, as the Lords of all these Houses, with the exception of Sirius Black, have been dead for over a decade, it is highly unlikely that you will not be claiming the Lordship."
At Harry's apprehensive glance, the goblin prodded his thigh. "Are you waiting for a written invitation, Mr. Potter? Proceed."
As soon as Harry's skin brushed the Lordship ring, it fell out of the slot into his hand.
Ironclaw gave a shark-like grin of satisfaction. "Congratulations, Lord Potter, on your first Lordship."
Harry continued in a similar vein around the semicircle of doors, with Death giving a running commentary on the symbolism of each crest. Harry made a mental note to look into them in more detail later.
Finally, he was facing the crest of the Peverell vault. With only one black crown in the centre of a gleaming expanse of silver, it's minimalistic design stood in marked contrast to the previous ones. Unlike the others, two mottos bracketed it: Hinc mihi salus from above, and Vita incerta, mors certissima from below.
The hours of rigorous study of the Latin language stood him in good stead now, and Harry almost sniggered at the words.
'I can see why you favoured the Peverells; they were almost as dramatic as you are,' Harry thought in amusement at Death. ' 'Hence comes salvation to me'? If I didn't know better, I would have thought it was a religious prayer of some sort.'
Death sniffed imperiously. 'It was Ignotus's contribution, just before he came to me. He wanted it to be a reminder for future generations; a reassurance that one's passing need not be feared as well as a warning that clinging to life for too long will have one yearning for death.'
'And the second one? 'The most certain thing in life is death'? What excuse do you have for that?'
'That … was entirely me,' Death admitted. 'Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus all expressed the same sentiments upon their deaths, a lesson they learned the hard way. It seemed a fitting tribute.'
During their internal conversation, Ironclaw must have reached the end of his patience, for Harry found his hand grabbed by the goblin and brought down to the ring.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, staring in disbelief at the unassuming piece of jewellery. In his palm lay the resurrection stone, whole and unblemished but for the family crest engraved into it, and embedded on a band of plain silver.
… What the hell?
Death sighed. 'For such an intelligent wizard, you are certainly rather determined to remain wilfully ignorant on particular matters. You are the Master of Death, Harry. It is not a title to be thrown about lightly, nor will it change. You have sole control over the Hallows. If you wish for it, it will come to you. The Elder Wand could be called up now with simply a thought – in fact, the Wand will be in your hand if it is needed, whether it was asked for or not. The same can be said for the Cloak and the Stone. On this matter you must yield, Harry, for we are yours forever.'
Harry's fist clenched around the ring. A burst of anger flared and died just as quickly. Alright. He could do this. He was having an existential crisis in a nondescript office in a goblin-run bank, but he could do this.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
Death was right; it wasn't as though ignoring the issue would just make it go away. For Merlin's sake, he was the Master of Death, not the Knight Bus conductor. In some corner of his mind he had known, but it was one thing to acknowledge it and quite another to accept it in its entirety with all its vast implications. No amount of whinging was going to change the fact that he was the Master of Death, and would be until the end of time.
'Well done, Master,' Death murmured, and his presence vanished from Harry's head before he could be chastised for the choice of address.
The Deathly Hallows sign on his chest burned slightly under his shirt, and a small squeak sounded behind him. Ron, Hermione, and Ironclaw were staring at him in astonishment, an almost drunken euphoria in their wide eyes.
Hermione came out of her stupor first and answered his unasked question. "Harry … you were … you were blazing with waves of pure black, and the power …" She shivered almost reverently. "There was so much of it that I thought I would drown from the sheer volume – and I would have welcomed it gladly." A fearful tremor had entered her voice, and she hugged herself tightly.
What had he done?
"Mate, tone down on the humongous flames of Hades thing next time, yeah?" Ron spoke soothingly as he approached him, as though calming a skittish colt. "Or at least give us a warning so we know to brace ourselves," he added with a weak grin.
It was all Harry could do not to throw himself at his best friend in relief, but the decision was taken out of hands when Ron's body enveloped him completely. He hadn't realised that he was trembling uncontrollably until small hands came up from behind him and rubbed gently down his sides.
"Shh, it's alright, we're here for you. I'm sorry I worried you, Harry, but us mere mortals need a moment to adjust after displays of such boundless proportions of power." Harry could hear the faint smile in Hermione's voice.
It was as though every muscle in him collapsed, with only Ron and Hermione holding him upright. How long they stood like that Harry didn't know, but all too soon, a throat cleared delicately.
"Lord Peverell, is everything alright?" Ironclaw sounded uncharacteristically concerned, or at least, as concerned as a goblin could sound in their rough, gravelly voices.
Slowly, the three of them separated from their many-limbed cocoon and sat back down. Embarrassed at his breakdown, Harry smiled tremulously at the goblin. "Sorry, Ironclaw, I was just a bit … overwhelmed. It won't happen again. Also, could you maybe call me Harry? Lord Peverell seems a bit … much …"
The goblin gave him an inscrutable look, before smirking suddenly. "Technically, on parchment you would be Lord Potter-Black-Gryffindor-Slytherin-Peverell, and that is the way you will have to sign all future official documents. So Lord Peverell is not very 'much'. However, it can be as you wish," he added, seeing Harry's deepening scowl.
Harry nodded decisively. "Good. Now, what's next?"
A/N: I present you Gringotts in all its dramatic glory! I went a bit nuts with the glowy sphere thing, sorry about that. It was one of those things I just couldn't resist, especially because I've read tons of Harry-drops-blood-onto-a-parchment-and-out-comes-a-summary-of-inheritances fics, which are absolutely fine, but I wanted to make this one completely mine :p
This chapter also had a lot more research going into it. I wanted to make the crests and mottos as realistic as possible, so I looked up heraldry and used a website to create crests from scratch for each family (minus the Blacks, which JKR has provided for), and found an archive of mottos from which I picked a suitable one (because I don't know Latin – yes, what an uncultured philistine I am, shame on me – and have an ingrained mistrust of Google Translate).
Please review! It helps me understand what you like and what I should improve and/or clarify :)
