Disclaimer: And would you believe it, I still don't own them. Also, as I'm a lazy sod (and thus too lazy to write author's notes here) I'm going to use this space to say my thankyous to all the lovely, lovely people who've reviewed. You are all stars and your reviews brighten my sad little life. And sorry about this chapter, but it had to be used to explain everything and this took longer than I anticipated! Ok, here goes...

Dumbledore stopped still and surveyed the man standing before him with a look somewhat akin to amazement.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Albus." The expression on Lupin's face was a strange mixture of elation and awe; as if he was overjoyed to have discovered the answer, yet unable to believe it when he had found it. "I found a safe down in the cellar, looked like it hadn't been touched for who knows how long. It was magical, obviously, and so I tested the spells on it. They were very old and broke easily – just as well; if I'd tried it when they were freshly cast, I'd be lying down there in several small pieces." A wry smile flickered across his face. "Seems the Black family didn't want anyone to find this again." He brandished the huge book he was carrying, and dust flew out of the pages, making Harry cough. "The thing is, Albus, I think the answer to the situation is right here!"

Dumbledore reacted immediately.

"Remus, call the Order and assemble in the kitchen in ten minutes, you can tell us what it us you've found when we're all together." Lupin nodded and walked briskly out of the room. Harry heard him clatter down the stairs, but his attention snapped back to Dumbledore when he heard the old man speaking again.

"Now then, Harry, do you feel up to coming downstairs with the rest of us?"

"Professor, surprising as it may seem, I am not going to pass up on the chance to fins out exactly what is happening to me. Can I ask one question, though? How did…er…Lupin find out what the answer was so quickly? I've only been unconscious for a few minutes."

There was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he turned to face Harry again.

"Harry, you have not been unconscious for 'a few minutes.' You have in fact been unconscious for a good five hours. Whatever power emanated from you was so potent that your body needed a long time to recover, giving Remus plenty of time to do some research." With that he strode out of the room, leaving Harry to ponder that last piece of information.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, holding onto the bedside table for a while, as his legs felt somewhat shaky – not surprisingly, he reflected, considering they hadn't been used for apparently five hours. When they felt stronger, he dragged on his shirt which had obviously been removed at some point, slipped his feet into his trainers which had been left by the side of the bed, and surveyed his reflection in the mirror which hung over the fireplace. Satisfied that he didn't look as weak as he felt, he too left the room and wearily walked down the stairs and into the spacious kitchen.

The scene was much the same as when he had last set foot inside the room, except that this time a chair had been set for him as well, in between Tonks and Mrs. Weasley. As he sat down, Tonks whispered, "All right there, Harry?" to which he could only smile and nod, and wish the whole thing was over already.

A cough from the end of the table drew everyone's attention to Dumbledore, who was now standing and surveying them all before speaking.

"Now that Harry has joined us, I think we can begin. Remus, if you would?"

The tall, thin figure of the werewolf rose, and Lupin placed the book he had been carrying on the table. He cleared his throat, and began to explain.

"As I was searching through the cellars here – where the Black family library is situated – I happened to chance across a small and well-concealed safe, magically locked with extremely potent spells which were thankfully very old and diluted. After I had broken these, I opened the safe to find – this book. Its title, as some of you will have noticed, is A Brief History of Wizardry, which is," he smiled, "something of a misnomer, as the book as some 4,000 pages long. Pages which are handwritten on vellum, suggesting that not only is this book extremely old, but that secondly it is probably the only one of its kind in existence.

"Naturally, my curiosity was aroused. Why would earlier generations of the Black family have considered the book so dangerous that they determined that it should never be read again? They could not destroy it – it has some intriguingly complex preservation spells on it -"

"Get on with it, Remus," growled Moody from the other side of the room.

"I'm getting there, Alastor. So, as it could not be destroyed, they did the next best thing, and hid it very carefully. Such preparation; all this led me to the conclusion that this book must contain some information considered by the Blacks to be too dangerous to be available to future generations. So, of course, I began to read.

"I read for what must have been an hour, until I came to a passage concerning the four Founders of Hogwarts, which someone had obligingly highlighted. You all, of course, know who the founders were. It was, therefore, in this passage, that I discovered the answer." He paused, and gazed around him for a moment before stating,

"Harry has come into his Inheritance."

Harry was confused. His what? By the bemused looks that others were sharing, they were equally bewildered. Only Dumbledore sat stock still, an expression of grave seriousness upon his face. It was he who broke the wondering silence which had fallen over the company.

"What are you saying, Remus?"

"I shall explain, Headmaster. At first I too was confused, until I read further, and found this." He pulled a scroll out of his pocket and unrolled on the table.

"This shows the bloodlines of all the pure-blooded wizarding families. This one goes back far, far further than any I have ever encountered before, right back to the time of the Founders." He tapped the parchment. "Now, we can see various lines that have died out; those of Watson, Fryer and Vesuvier, for example. And we can see the lines that are still around today; such as those of Malfoy, Weasley and – Potter."

Harry was interested, but not particularly amazed. He knew that his father had come from a long line of pure-bloods – this parchment simply told him that it was very long indeed. However, it appeared that Lupin had not finished, as he continued to speak.

"Now then, if we follow the line of Potters back as far as it will go, what do we see?"

A collective gasp arose from those who could see the parchment, Harry, who could not, wondered what had happened now. Lupin's voice cut through the babble.

"Harry Potter is the direct, and only, descendant of Godric Gryffindor - we might say, the Heir of Gryffindor."

This just gets better, though Harry grimly. First you get lumbered with yet more freakishness, then someone informs you you're the sole surviving heir of a Founder. Brilliant. What next?

He was about to find out. Lupin cleared his throat yet again.

"This is where A Brief History of Wizardry comes in. The passage I read told of an ancient prophecy, made shortly after the schism between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It is transcribed here." He read aloud,

"When evil awakes a second time

And the shadows stretch again

The stars foretell a second meeting.

Twixt old enemies arises new strife

When friendship fails and order dies

Then shall the orphaned Heir come again

And the Inheritance awaken."

A stunned silence fell, unbearably loud and oppressive,

"How do you know it means me?"

Harry was quite surprised to find that it had been him who had spoken – his mouth seemed to have spat the words out quite unbidden. It was Dumbledore who replied, in a voice laden with what seemed to be sorrow.

"The prophecy was made to Gryffindor, and it is quite clear that it must be Gryffindor's heir that the prophecy refers to; Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have no heirs, and the line of Slytherin's heirs drifted, I am sad to say, into evil many centuries ago. You are the only Heir of Gryffindor, you are orphaned, and thus the only one to whom the prophecy can refer. Furthermore, the arrival of your new power coincides exactly with when the prophecy predicts it would; evil in the form of Voldemort has risen again, and with the Ministry in disarray, I do believe that order has died. And finally, the prophecy was made on Midsummer's Day – the very day on which the power is due to awaken."

Harry drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"So, what is this Inheritance then?"

It was Lupin who answered this one.

"Since the dream you had, Harry, you say that you can do magic without your wand. I wonder if you could do a piece of more complex magic for us without your wand now; could you produce your Patronus?"

Slightly surprised, Harry nevertheless complied. He searched for a happy memory, and settled on then memory of his friends. He considered using Sirius, but even that thought caused a howling emptiness to yawn inside him, and so he abandoned it quickly. Holding the memory in his head, he stretched out his fingers, and cried, "Expecto Patronum!"

A silver stag erupted from his fingertips and cantered across the table before vanishing. Harry dimly realised that producing the Patronus seemed actually easier than it did when he was using his wand, but before he could follow that thought back to its origin, Lupin was speaking again.

"You see, Harry, that you can perform this very difficult spell with apparent ease, without your wand. A wand is, as you probably know, used to magnify a wizard's inherent power. It helps to channel it, and increase its potency, which is why wizards cannot perform wandless magic – their power is too unfocused, too weak. However, you have just demonstrated that you can do wandless magic. Do you realise what this means, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, rather dazedly.

"It means that without your wand you are very powerful, as powerful as a full-grown wizard, and that power will increase as you get older. With your wand, however, you are – terrifyingly powerful."

Terrifyingly powerful. The phrase echoed inside Harry's head. Terrifyingly powerful. Terrifying…

It was too much to take in. He shook his head.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll go to bed," he said abruptly, and fled the room before anyone could stop him, racing to his room where he threw himself onto his bed, trying desperately to block out that voice and lose himself, to forget the past few hours, to go back to when everything was normal.

But it was impossible.