Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter!  I make no money from this writing; it is purely for entertainment purposes.  Please don't sue.

Italics are thoughts.

Italics in "Quotes" is parsletounge

            Harry gazed at the name imprinted on the dagger in shock.  How can this be?  I thought that Voldemort was the heir of Slytherin.  What is the dagger doing here?  Why doesn't Voldemort have it?  A cough interrupted his thought.  He could barely concentrate on what Griphook was saying.  It sounded like he was asking if Harry was all right.  Harry seriously thought about saying he was not all right, but he nodded instead.  Then he shook his head clear and slammed the chest closed.  He looked around, but his eyes were drawn towards the chest each time he scanned the room.  He frowned and muttered to himself, "Oh, alright."  He reached towards the box and was surprised when it sprung open.  Both the sword and the dagger flew towards his outstretched hands.  He grabbed them and felt the power emanating from them.  He was surprised at the oddly comfortable warmth that invaded his hands.

He was marveling at the weapons when he heard some odd sounds coming from them.  He leaned closer and heard voices: "Our master holds us once more."  This he heard from the sword.  "Yes, our master's power is glorious," the dagger whispered.

Without thinking, Harry asked, "Are you talking?"

The sword answered, "Yes, Master we are."

Harry was a bit stunned, but he asked, "Why do you call me 'master'?"

The dagger answered, "Because you are our master.  If you use us wisely we will spill blood for you."

"Spill blood?"

"Yes master.  After all, we are weapons."  Harry smiled: the dagger had a sense of humor.

"Yes I can see that."

The sword spoke this time.  "That's good.  Our last master was blind, and he blamed us for everything.  That's why we were locked in that chest.  We supposedly 'forced' him to kill the wrong person, as if it were our fault that he had bad aim."

Harry chuckled. "How many masters have you had?"

" I have had seven.  I was here first and then the fourth master brought his own blade."

"Who was your fourth master?"

"His name was Solomon Black…."

At this point the Dagger butted in: "He was my third master.  His grandfather, Salazar Slytherin, was my second, and his great-grandfather was my first.  I have had six masters."

The weapons were silent for a moment, during which Harry had the impression that they were conversing to themselves.  Then after a few moments the dagger spoke, "Where are we? This doesn't feel like the Chamber."

Harry was surprised.  "You've been in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Of course," came the reply.  "That's where our last master found us and brought us out into the world."

"Oh.  You're in Gringotts.  It's the wizards bank."

"Ah, well that explains a lot….  When you take us out of here, don't forget the chest; it has some useful things in it."

With that the blades fell silent.  Well that was interesting, thought Harry.  He put the weapons back into the chest.  Seeing that there was some extra space, he walked over to one of the bookshelves and picked up a few particularly evil looking books, put them in the chest, and replaced the lid.  He then picked up the chest and carried it to the door, where he stopped and said to his companions, "Let's go now, eh?"  They both nodded and, pausing only long enough that Harry could put the chest in the cart's luggage bin, they were off.

            The ride to vault 23 was a short one, and it compromised of Harry sitting in a daze thinking about the blades, Griphook muttering under his breath about "folk who were too rich for their own good, and Dobby cheering in delight whenever the cart took a sharp turn.

Harry was jerked from his thoughts when the cart pulled to a stop, and the party of three immediately jumped out of the cart.  The door of vault 23 was slightly cleaner than the door of vault 46.  Harry nodded at Dobby and the elf sprang into action, and again Harry and Griphook watched in awe as the door suddenly began to shine.

This door glowed a brilliant bronze and held the crest of one of his families.  He looked at it closely.  It was a griffin in flight, and when Harry reached out to touch it, his hand met with an inviting warmth.  He set his hand down on it, and the door melted away.  There was no fog rushing out of this one, but an aroma of flowers lingered at the doorway.  The vault was pitch black—not lighted like the other vault.  But when Harry walked in, a large number of torches suddenly sprang to life, lighting the vault.

Harry looked around.  The entire vault was filled with personal belongings: There were chariots, paintings, jewels, clothes, furniture, shelves—many full of book, and hanging on the wall exactly opposite him was a shield with a large embellished E on it.  Suddenly, Harry knew whose vault he was in.  Evans.  My Mum's family vault.

Harry continued to gaze about as he walked towards the shield.  Right below it was a book titled A Self-Updating Map of Wizarding Genealogy.  Harry opened the book and out fell a ring.  Harry picked up the ring and looked at it.  It was old and the design featured the thorns of one of those plants that you find on the walls of old garden estates grown to keep intruders out.  In the middle of it was the same E that the shield held.  Harry put the ring on the ring finger of his right hand.  At first it was heavy and uncomfortable, but almost immediately it molded itself to Harry's finger.  Harry felt his whole body warm up in the ring's comforting embrace, and he saw that the ring was glowing a soft shade of blue.  Harry stood there for a while enjoying the warmth.

He was startled when Griphook asked him if he had found what he needed.  He nodded and started to leave, but right before he reached the door he turned around, walked back to the genealogy book, and picked it up.  The book might come in handy.  Then he walked back to the cart, put the book in the chest, and sat down.  The other two followed his lead, and soon they were again speeding off into the depths of Gringotts.

            Almost immediately the cart stopped.  Harry looked around and saw the largest door yet.  This one was completely clean and it glowed in the lamplight so brightly that Harry needed to shield his eyes.  He got out of the cart and approached the door.  Still shielding his eyes, he found the crest.  On it was a massive lion, on the forehead of which stood a P.  Harry set his hand down on it.  Nothing happened.  Behind him, Griphook coughed.

"Sir, you might try putting your wand on it."

Harry looked at him and then turned back to the door.  He reached into his pocket and extracted both of his wands.  Placing one of them in his left hand, he pressed both against the lion.  He jumped back when he heard a roar, and he watched as the door melted away.

            The sight that greeted him struck him completely dumb.  The Potter Family Vault was filled with…everything!  Hanging from the roof were flags of forgotten countries, there was gold and silver lying all about, and Harry was stunned at the number of weapons.  Harry gathered his courage and entered the vault.  Among all of these treasures, where was he to find the Heirloom?  He wandered around a while, hardly aware of his companions trailing him.  He was gazing at a particularly stunning moving tapestry of a unicorn when a chest caught his eyes.  It was old and plain, but Harry could feel the power emanating from it like something tangible.  He moved to open it, but then paused.  If this contained any more surprises than the other chest had carried, he didn't want to open it in the caverns of Gringotts.  He picked up the chest.  It was heavy, but not any more than his school chest.  He carried it to the cart, closely followed by the other two, and they set off once again.

            Harry was puzzled by the lack of vaults, but when he asked about it Griphook refused to answer.  Curiosity aroused, Harry pointed out that he was supposedly the owner of Gringotts.  Griphook paused, his face unreadable, and said, "Vaults 2 to 9 are Gringotts' personal fortune; they are hidden from view."

Harry nodded, curiosity sated, and thought no more of it.

            The ride seemed very long, and Harry was getting tired of being awed.  But then they turned a corner, and Harry nearly jumped out of the cart.  Standing in front of the doors before them were two very alert Dragons.  They stared at the cart as it approached, and when Griphook stopped the Dragons stepped forward.  The green one said, "WHO ARE YOU?"  Its voice echoed in the cavern.

Griphook winced and said, "Begging your pardon, but this is the Heir."

The dragons looked at each other and the red one boomed, "ARE YOU SURE?"

Griphook nodded, and the two dragons stepped aside.  Harry whispered to Griphook "How did they talk?"

Griphook smiled and said, "They were once goblins who lived during the great Human-Goblin war.  Some fool wizard transfigured them when they came to attack.  Naturally the wizard was roasted.  Later on when Goblin-Wizard relations became better, they tried to transfigure them back, but to no avail.  It was discovered later that they were very long living."

Harry absorbed this new information and asked, "Is that where the legends of dragons that horde gold comes from?"

Griphook chuckled, "Yep."

Harry smiled and asked, "How many are there?"

Griphook thought for a minute: "About fifty-two.  They mate though, so sometimes it changes."

"They Mate?" Harry asked incredulously.

Griphook chuckled again.  "Of course.  How else do you think they have survived the past one thousand years?"

"They're a thousand years old?"

"Give or take a century."

"Wow."  Dobby nodded his agreement.

Harry looked at the door.  "Griphook, why aren't we getting any closer to the door?"

Griphook looked surprised.  "Of course!  Harry would you please command the door to come here?"

Harry looked at Griphook.  "What?"

"Call the door.  All you have to do is command it to come."

Harry didn't think it would work, but who was he to argue with a Goblin?

"Door, Come Here."

The door, surprisingly, did.  Harry blinked in surprise.  They were now right in front of the door.  It was an ancient door covered in runes, and when Harry approached, it split in half and then into fourths and then sunk completely into the floor.  Harry entered.

He stood in a library filled with maps, chests, and books.  The books amazed Harry; his love of books wasn't as obsessive as his friend Hermione's, but growing up in the Dursley's household he had oftentimes found his only escape in books.  And these books were of all types.  As he browsed through the shelves, he saw books on philosophy, astronomy, herbology, medicine (though these looked a bit outdated), and, of course, books on magic.

Harry's reverie was broken by the sound of a rather high-pitched scream.  He looked up just in time to see Griphook fly backward.  A yellowish glow emanated from the space between the doorframes.  He saw Griphook get up and shouted, "Are you okay?"

Griphook glared at the door and nodded.

"Good."  Then Harry continued his exploration of the room.

He opened a random trunk and found it empty.  He picked it up and started putting interesting looking books inside.  He put in potion books, spell books, books on rare creatures, and even a few history books, but his greatest find also happened to be the heirloom he felt calling him.  It was a silver covered book with powerful spells inside.  Harry recognized a few of them: the Fidelius charm, the killing curse, and the Anti-Apparition ward, just to name a few he recognized.  He couldn't read the inscription on the cover because it was in another language, but Harry thought that it might be the same language that Hermione studied in ancient runes.  The book made him curious enough that he decided to buy a book on ancient runes the next day.

Finally, Harry walked out of the vault, and they started their journey back to the surface, stopping briefly at each of the private vaults, wherein Harry found a gargantuan amount of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts.  After refilling his moneybag from the gold in his old vault, he also stashed some in his trunks.  The blades were not happy with having coins heaped on them and were very vocal in their protests.

            Back at the entrance, Harry worried briefly about how he was going to carry the chests, but was much relieved when Dobby levitated the chest and asked where they were going.  They left Gringotts with the chests hovering about ten feet over Harry's head.  The sight of a house elf and the trunks caused some commotion among his fellow pedestrians, especially when they noticed Harry.  He was worried that they would start a full scale riot, so he was much relieved when they reached Ollivander's.

"This is it, Dobby."

Dobby used his magic to open the doors and levitated the chests in.  Marik, who was sitting behind the counter, jumped up in surprise when he saw the hovering chests.  He was even more surprised when he saw that Harry had a house elf accompanying him.  Harry hastened to make introductions.

"Dobby, this is Marik.  Marik, this is Dobby."

Marik reached out his hand.  "Ah yes, I've heard all about you from Albus.  He speaks highly of you."

Dobby's eyes started to tear.  "Professor Dumbledore is a great wizard."  He took Marik's hand and smiled toothily.  "You are a great wizard too, but Dobby knew that any friend of Harry Potter would be."

Marik reddened a bit and said to Harry in an undertone, "Thinks a lot of you, doesn't he?"

Harry nodded fervently and spoke to the elf: "Dobby, I might need help with some more cleaning later on; would you like to help?"

Dobby smiled again, and his eyes began to water even more.  "Harry Potter is the kindest, most generous, most gracious, most…"

Harry cut him off: "Is that a yes?"

Dobby nodded rapidly.  "Oh, yes sir!"

Harry smiled and said, "Thanks Dobby.  See you, then?"

Dobby nodded again and with a CRACK he was gone. Harry turned around and saw the older man's amusement.  "Shut up Marik."  He picked up the trunks one by one and set them down on the counter.

"Now," he said, "Let's get started." 

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