Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to them.
"Why do I have to go to Gringotts?" Harry complained, not for the first time. "I'd rather go look through my schoolbooks with Daphne."
"You'll be eleven next week. You need to learn about your accounts and go through the inheritance test every pureblood heir gets," Sirius explained for the seventh time that morning. "And you can practice your gobbledegook as well."
"Tom says inheritance tests are for losers," Harry muttered.
"Tom isn't the heir of two houses."
"I wouldn't be the heir if you'd have a kid of your own," Harry countered with a smirk. "I mean, you've been dating Madame Bones for long enough, why haven't you popped the question yet?"
"Cheeky git," Sirius sighed. "You're not getting out of it."
"Fine, fine," Harry sighed. "Let's get this over with, but I'm not letting you dragging your feet with her go either."
"In that case, we're going to have a discussion about the future of you, Daphne, and Susan."
Harry muttered something, and not for the first time was gleeful that Maylzred the Powerful One had taught him all the bad words in Draconic, a sub-dialect of parseltongue. He could swear all he wanted without getting in trouble with the adults.
It wasn't the first time Harry had been to the bank, but it was the first time he'd be there for his own accounts. Sirius was right about one thing, when he turned eleven and officially became the heir to House Potter, he'd need to be at least passingly familiar with his accounts so he could understand the quarterly bank statements the goblins would send him. Maylzred The Powerful One had burned into him the need to acquire and horde wealth of every form, and though Maylzred and Salazar argued over the best wealth to acquire, each of his six tutors, as he liked to call his nighttime visitors, agreed that money and knowledge and power were vital to a comfortable life.
The pair didn't wait in line long.
"Welcome Lord Black," the personal goblin accountant of House Black greeted before turning to Harry.
"How goes your language skills, little ankle-biter?" the accountant said in gobbledegook.
"You must judge me of that, bloody one," Harry answered in the harsh language. "I lack four teeth to speak it any better."
"Quite well done, Master Harry," the goblin grinned, speaking this time in English. "Your accent is atrocious, of course, but you are more understandable than your previous trip. What brings you to our fine establishment?"
"Potter business," Sirius explained. "I want Harry to get his inheritance test, and then to get a full report of his accounts. I want him familiar enough with them that I don't have to answer his endless stream of questions every three months."
Harry gently kicked his guardian in the leg, to which Sirius ruffled the boy's hair. Both laughed.
"Very well, it will take some time to gather all the materials. Would you like to wait in a conference room or to return in thirty minutes?"
A quick glance at the puppy dog eyes Harry was giving him convinced Sirius to take their leave now and return once everything was ready. The pair merged with the crowds of shoppers bustling about the alley, many of which were families of witches and wizards getting supplies for their first year of Hogwarts. After a longing glace at the quidditch store, Harry and Sirius entered the bookshop, Harry's favorite non-food related store.
"Fifteen minutes, that's all," Sirius reminded Harry. "If I have to drag you out of here, we won't stop for ice cream on the way home."
Harry pouted for a second before growing a grin, then took off between the shelves, leaving a mischievous laugh in his wake. Sirius shook his head and moved over to the New Releases section. Amelia would like a new novel, and a gifted book always got him a smile from her.
"Sorry," Harry apologized to the girl he bumped into as he hurried over to the Potions section of the store. Salazar had promised him something special if he could memorize how to brew a perfect Deflating Draught, and Salazar had never disappointed when it came to special treats. "I didn't see you there."
"It's alright," the girl said, brushing the impact off. "Are you excited to get your Hogwarts books too?"
"I have them already," Harry answered, to the visible disappointment of the girl. "I'm looking for a potions book. One of my mentors said if I memorize a potion, I'll get a prize."
"You must be a pureblood, then," the girl sighed. Harry recognized the signs of a muggleborn being bullied by a pureblood.
"Technically, yeah, but I don't care about that. I'm Harry Black. Do you need help finding your books?"
"Hermione Granger. I've got them all, except Hogwarts, A History."
"That's not part of the standard shopping list," Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Besides, it's not that great a reference. If you go with A Guide to Medieval Education, by Arthur Nibblet, you get pretty much all the same information but easier to understand, plus the extensive index Hogwarts, A History is missing."
"Oh, I don't know. Professor McGonagall suggested it for me to read," Hermione hesitated.
"Were you asking lots of questions?" Harry asked smiling. Hermione withdrew into herself a bit as she shook her head affirmatively. "That explains it. She did the same for me when I was asking 'too many questions' about the castle."
Hermione perked up a bit at that.
"So I shouldn't read it?" she asked, not quite on board with not reading something a teacher suggested. It went against her very being.
"Go for it, but I recommend reading Nibblet's book first. It will help you get through some of the tougher parts in the Hogwarts, A History. I think I saw a used copy of them both in the Used section. Most graduating students return all their history textbooks without even opening them. I can't figure out why, but the Used section usually has plenty of nearly new ones."
In the end, Sirius did end up dragging Harry back to Gringotts, but because he was chatting up a girl, Sirius judged it an acceptable delay and their ice cream prize would not be forfeit. Harry and Hermione exchanged addresses to write each other, sensing a kindred spirit of obsessive learning in each other.
"Shut up about Hermione, or I'll tell Bones about the scary movie you let me watch last week," Harry threatened at Sirius' teasing.
"You stole the movie from my locked study, so that doesn't count," Sirius countered.
"Do you think Madame Bones will see it that way?" Harry smirked. "Poor innocent Harry being corrupted at such a young age by his vagabond godfather."
"Do shut up," Sirius shook his head in defeat. "And brace yourself, the goblins usually take quite a bit of blood for the test."
"Don't remind me," Harry grumbled. "Can't we go get ice cream first?"
"Bloodletting first, ice cream second."
"So we can skip reviewing the Potter accounts?"
"No."
Soon Harry and Sirius found themselves in the Inheritance Ritual Room. Skulls of strange animals adorned the walls. Grooves in the floor contained dried blood, all leading from the stone alter in the middle of the room to cisterns embedded in the floor near the walls. Ominous flickering torchlight was the only light source. Whispers, of distant screams or moaning pain or simply the wind, permeated the stone chamber. On the altar was an ornate curved blade the length of Harry's small nearly-eleven year-old arm.
Harry gulped involuntarily.
A pair of goblins entered, each wearing bloodstained ceremonial robes, one carrying a large book and the other carrying a staff adorned with bones, fish scales, shining rocks, and bits of metal. It rattled as it shook, creating a dissident noise that grated against the ever-present whispering.
"Disrobe," the goblins commanded in unison.
Harry trembled a moment before pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving him only in his underwear.
"Approach," they commanded once again in unison.
Harry steeled his nerves and walked forward with as much confidence as he could muster. He stopped a foot away from the bloody alter and the very sharp knife.
"Hand," was the next command, with both goblins pointing towards the altar.
Taking a breath, Harry thrust his arm forward, palm up, fingers trembling slightly.
The goblin with the staff took the knife in his right hand, and shook the staff head over Harry's hand. He could tell the goblin was chanting, but it wasn't any gobbledegook words he recognized. The torches hanging on the wall began the flare up randomly. The goblin raised the knife high in the air, and Harry was very afraid that he would soon only have one functional hand at the end. He twitched, but never took his hand from the altar. He would make his mom and dad proud and honor the name of Potter.
The blade descended swiftly.
The blade stopped about two inches from where it began, still two feet from Harry's hand.
Sirius started laughing uproariously, and it dawned on Harry that he was being pranked. He looked at his hand and saw that there was a small pinprick of blood coming from his thumb, and a glance at the book wielding goblin showed the goblin placing an ornate quill feather to the open pages of the book it carried, the tip red with Harry's blood.
"That, that's it?" Harry sputtered, unsure if he should be relieved, angry, or something else.
"Today it is," Sirius wheezed. "The look on your face, priceless."
"What?" Harry demanded, but not sure what he was demanding of Sirius. "What?"
"Oh, that was hilarious. Come here Harry, let me explain it to you."
Harry stomped over to his discarded clothes and pulled them on, anger and embarrassment taking their turn being in charge.
"Alright Harry. When I was ten, my father took me to this same room to do this same ritual. For us purebloods, it's tradition. I did the same thing you did, but for me the knife didn't stop. The strong traditionalists have their heirs feel the blade. My hand bled until we were finished with the inheritance test and my father finally healed my wound. It hurt like a porcupine sting and I nearly fainted from blood loss. It's not necessary, as you saw, but theatrics are part of the wizarding culture. The rare muggleborn who does the test simply gets a poke of the finger, like you, and that's it."
"Then why couldn't I have done that?" Harry nearly yelled, his adrenaline starting to return to normal levels.
"If you are to interact with other pureblood heirs, you needed to see, feel, and experience this test. They will expect it, and you really can't fake knowing what it felt like to have that goblin hold that dagger over your hand, knowing it will plunge down into your skin. Plus, it was really, really funny to watch."
"The results are in," the book wielding goblin announced, forestalling Harry's comeback.
"Do we have to stay in this room, or can we retire to a conference room?" Sirius asked. The need and the joke was over, there was no point prolonging the theatrics after the punchline was delivered, and Sirius had bad memories in the Inheritance Ritual Room.
The goblin nodded, and led them outside and across the hall. The room was simple, six comfortably padded chairs around a study table. On the table were the account books of the Potter Family, prepared for the foregone event that Harry was Heir of Potter. They took their seats.
"At Lord Black's request, we will skip the ritual formalities usually provided to those pureblood who take this test, and stay focused on the bloodlines. Harry James Potter, by parental blood you are Heir of the House of Potter and will be Head Potter upon your eleventh birthday. By adoption you are also Heir to the House of Black, and will be Head Black upon your eleventh birthday and the death of the current Head Black, who is Lord Sirius Black."
"Now that wasn't so bad," Sirius joked.
"I wasn't finished," the goblin growled, angry at the interruption. Both Harry and Sirius were shocked. Potter and Black were the only families he belonged to.
"By progenitor blood, you are also Heir of the House of Peverell and will be Head Peverell upon your eleventh birthday. By right of conquest, you are Heir of the House of Gaunt and will be Head Gaunt upon your eleventh birthday. By right of conquest, you are Heir of the House of Slytherin and will be Head Slytherin upon your eleventh birthday. By right of branding and conquest, you are Heir of the House of LeStrange and will be Head LeStrange upon your eleventh birthday. By right of branding and conquest, you are Heir of the House of Travers and will be Head Travers upon your eleventh birthday."
The silence was deafening.
"Se-seven houses?" Harry whispered. "What the bloodly hell? How am I the heir to seven bloody houses?"
"By blood, conquest, and branding," the goblin retorted with goblin snark. "Did you not understand the words I was saying?"
"Understand, yes, comprehend, only kinda," Sirius choked out. "We were expecting two, not seven houses."
"Should I bring the financial reports for the other five houses as well?" the goblin asked, internally giggling gleefully at the wizards' discomfort.
"Just the summaries, I think," Sirius answered. "Prepare the full reports for when we come again. In two days' time, I think."
"Very well. I will go gather those summaries now. In the meantime, you have the Potter family books in front of you, feel free to peruse them at your leisure. It should be no more than ten minutes."
Once alone, Harry and Sirius stared at each other, neither one sure where this bombshell left them.
"Heir to seven families," Harry breathed. "Seven houses, seven seats on the Wizengamut. I'm sure at least the Slytherin family has a dedicated seat on the Hogwarts board of directors, maybe more?"
"Yeah," Sirius agreed solemnly before smiling. "Seven wives, too. Looks like you have a whole lot more girls to woo. Gotta get cracking. Hermione's a good start."
Sirius dodged the fist Harry aimed at his shoulder, but missed the foot aimed at his shin. Totally worth the pain. A Marauder suffers for his art.
Once the obligatory joking between dogfather and godson was complete, Sirius got serious (heh, hee hee) and started teaching Harry about the ins and outs of the goblin/wizard financial system, using the Potter accounts as his example.
It would be a very long day for both of them.
