AN

Well here it is, I'm sorry for the delay. For some reason this chapter refused to be written, and I had to completely rethink my plan for it at one point.

When Sirius speaks in Harry's mind, it will look like this insert Sirius's words here when Harry mind speaks, it will look like this -insert Harry's words here-

I would like to thank all my reviewers and my brother JeremyCamp-Stay (hereafter known as JC-S) and no, he's not Jeremy Camp, that's just the screen name he chose for himself when I acknowledge him, contrary to a review (or more than one?) I've gotten...lol.

Chapter 6

Inheritance and Missing Family

Harry awoke slowly to sunlight streaming in through his open window. He tried to sit up, but immediately laid back down and groaned.

A small chuckle was heard in the back of his mind. A little sore? Sirius asked.

"Shut up, Padfoot," Harry growled irritably. "If you weren't such a brutal instructor I wouldn't be injured to the point of not being able to move."

Another chuckle. Those Martial Arts are rough, aren't they?

You think? Harry thought sarcastically.

Yes, quite often, actually.

Shut up.

No.

Giving up on arguing with his irritating godfather, Harry gingerly worked his way out of bed and got dressed. Sirius had been giving him Martial Arts lessons every night for the past week, and Harry was practicing during the day. Unfortunately, physical exercise in the "Marauder Realm," as Sirius had dubbed it, did not actually improve one's body (though it was good for perfecting moves without ever having to break a sweat or tire), so Harry had to work out every day for a good portion of the day.

Sirius had also been slowly transferring his knowledge to Harry. They were about two thirds through what Sirius knew, because it really was extremely exhausting for both of them every time they did it. While Sirius was not a genius, he had been one of the top students of his year in Hogwarts, and when they were done, he assured Harry he'd be the equivalent of a Hogwarts graduate and a little more.

That, of course, was not enough to defeat Voldemort. Harry would have to continue to learn everything he could in order to defeat the Dark Lord. He'd asked Sirius whether he should return to Hogwarts, but Sirius would only say he had plans that he would reveal soon. It had initially angered Harry that Sirius was keeping something from him, until his godfather had assured him that he was still going over his plans before showing them to him, and was not keeping secrets.

Having Sirius in his head was . . . interesting to say the least. It was very annoying at some times, for instance Sirius tended to make rather suggestive comments whenever Harry passed a pretty girl his age, while out jogging. Yet it could also be quite humorous at other times, such as when Sirius told Harry stories of the Marauder's Hogwarts days.

As he put on his trainers, Harry glanced at the clock. It was just after six in the morning - plenty of time to get a quick breakfast before the Dursleys woke up.

Ever since his outburst over a week before, Harry had avoided any contact with the Dursleys, instead staying out all day, eating both breakfast and dinner when they were asleep, and having lunch each day in a small muggle diner in town.

When Harry was in his Phoenix form, he was able to disappear from wherever he was in a burst of flames, and then reappear anywhere else in the world he wished. As yet, he had gone only to Diagon Alley (cloaked and hooded to avoid recognition, of course) to get some money changed over to muggle funds for his lunches. He could apparate instead, of course (Sirius had made sure that was one of the first things he learned through their link) but that required a wand, and so would be detected by the Ministry.

After a speedy breakfast, Harry set out for a half hour jog around the neighborhood, before heading to the park for another grueling Martial Arts workout. As usual, Sirius had him start with an extensive stretching routine, and then push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and any other exhausting exercise his mentor took a fancy to making him do. Then, they would finally get down to the real work. Harry was made to go through various forms and drills designed to familiarize his body with all the strikes, blocks, and stances until he could perform them without even thinking about it. Sparring proved to be a bit of a problem, as he could only spar with Sirius at night, and that was only good for showing him things, it didn't actually familiarize his body with the techniques. Still, they had no other option, so they did what they could.

When Harry had asked where Sirius had learned as much as he did, Sirius only told him that he'd find out when he told him the plans he was working on.

When are you going to tell me what you have in mind, Siri? Harry asked.

Tonight in the Marauder Realm, now quit stalling and get back to work.

Several hours later, Harry's training session was cut short by Sirius' voice in his mind

I think we'll stop here for today.

This statement took Harry completely by surprise, which wasn't good, since he was in the middle of kicking when it happened. He stopped short, or tried to. What actually happened was he both kicked and didn't kick, causing him to overbalance and fall flat on his face.

Roaring laughter was heard in the back of his head as he groaned and rolled over onto his back. That'll teach you to lose your concentration like that.

It wouldn't have happened if there was no such thing as you being merciful and ending a session early. Harry retorted.

Sirius gave a hurt sounding sniff. I'm not that bad.

Harry snorted in disbelief, but made no further argument. So why are we stopping so early? he asked.

We have to visit your family's vault at Gringott's to get something.

But we were just there the other day! Why couldn't we have done it then? a confused Harry asked.

Not your school fund! I mean your family vault, the one with your main fortune and family heirlooms in it.

What! I thought the vault I was using now was my family vault.

Sirius gave a very angry sounding growl. You mean he didn't tell you?

Harry was really confused now. Who? Tell me what? What's going on?

Dumbledore, that's who. I knew he hadn't told you much, but this...Damn him, now I'll have to tell you myself. To put it bluntly, Harry, you are a very rich wizard. The Potter line is one of the oldest and wealthiest in the wizarding world. The account you are currently using was just a small sum, by comparison, set apart for your school years. Your real vault is many, many times larger and contains not only money but quite a few ancient artifacts and heirlooms that have been in your family for generations. That's where we need to go.

Harry just lay on the ground in shocked silence. He was sure he must look very strange, laying in the middle of a muggle park with various emotions flitting across his face and his head tilted as though listening to something.

Harry?

What else has he been keeping from me? Harry's voice was not loud. Instead it was deathly quiet, and icy cold.

Sirius audibly gulped. A lot. I'm going to tell you everything tonight, but for right now we have to get a few things done, so let's get to Gringotts, OK?

Harry sighed. Alright, let's go then.

Using Phoenix travel was an interesting experience. Harry had to find an empty alley to transform and travel, and he had to make sure he ended up in an empty side street in Diagon Alley to arrive and revert to human form.

It was definitely his favorite mode of magical travel though. He had problems with staying on his feet using both floo powder and portkeys, and from the memories of apparating Sirius had given him, that particular mode of transportation felt uncomfortably like hurling oneself off of an invisible precipice. Phoenix travel (or Flame Travel as Harry had decided to call it) was far better. There actually wasn't much sensation at all, other than the feeling of a warm breeze flowing across one's face. There wasn't much to see, either, except for flames that didn't actually burn anything. Still, it was Harry's favorite because it was the only magical mode of travel that wasn't uncomfortable.

When he reached the wizarding bank, he slipped quietly up to a free goblin teller and asked quietly to be shown to the Potter family vault. The goblin raised his eyebrows, but summoned another goblin standing nearby and told him to take Harry down to the vault. Before he left, Harry passed several Galleons to the teller. "I'd appreciate it if Professor Dumbledore was not informed of my visit to my family's vault," he said.

The teller simply gave him a mirthless grin and nodded evilly.

The greatest thing about goblins, Sirius said. Is that they don't see anything of wizarding affairs that doesn't pertain directly to them as their business. So they will gladly keep anything you ask them to quiet, no matter who you are. Dead useful when you're a wanted criminal like I was.

Harry chuckled his agreement, causing the goblin leading him to one of the carts to give him an odd look.

It didn't take long to reach the Potter vault. When he sensed Harry's interest in this, Sirius quickly explained, The old family vaults were among the first to be built centuries ago, so they're the highest in the tunnels - just far enough down to make the journey confusing.

As they slowed to a stop in front of vault 15, Harry looked at the gigantic doors in awe. The Potter family crest, consisting of a griffin clutching a flaming sword in it's talons, was painted on the front in bright red, gold, and red-orange.

Below the crest was the Potter family motto: Licentia quod Veneratio supremus totus.

James told me about that, Sirius muttered. It means 'Freedom and Honor above all.'

Harry just clambered out of the cart and stood staring in awe at the doors before him. This was part of his family's legacy. Countless generations of Potters had stood right there, where he was standing, and looked at those doors, just as he was doing. It was overwhelming and exciting at the same time.

He looked over at the goblin who was standing next to him and blinked. He looked familiar. "Griphook?" he asked tentatively.

If it was possible for a goblin to look surprised, this one would have. "Why yes, Mr. Potter. I'm surprised you recognized me."

Harry didn't know what to reply to this, so he settled for nodding politely and asking, "So how do I get in?"

Griphook just pointed to a small hand-shaped imprint at the place where the two doors touched, about shoulder height. It was small enough and blended in with the door so perfectly that it would go unnoticed unless one was standing practically with your nose pressed right against it. If Griphook hadn't pointed it out, Harry would never have seen it.

Assuming that this had something to do with testing his blood connection to the Potter line, Harry placed his right hand into the imprint and waited. Almost immediately, he felt the magic start to flow into his fingers as the door verified his identity.

After fully five minutes of tingling sensations in his whole hand, the doors gave a loud clang and swung slowly, silently open.

When Harry saw what was inside, he nearly fell over in shock. Most of the vault was filled with mountains and mountains of gold. More than he could possibly spend in his entire lifetime, no matter how hard he tried.

Harry had not been aware that this much gold even existed in the world, let alone that there was this much belonging to him.

This is mine

Sirius chuckled. Actually, a good portion of it was mine. I left it all to you in my will. As the Blacks and the Potters are two of the oldest and wealthiest families in the wizarding world, the combination of both fortunes is quite something. In fact, I believe it makes you the 7th richest wizard in the world, far wealthier than anyone else in England, including the Malfoys.

Harry was floored. He was wealthier than Malfoy? Then he got a maniacal gleam in his eyes. This year at Hogwarts was going to be very interesting.

Right. So what are we here for?

Look off to the right, there should be a section with lots of old weapons, armor, furniture, jewelry, books, and other things like that. What you're looking for is a sort of amulet on a gold chain. It should have a crimson stone with the Potter crest carved onto the surface in gold.

Harry glanced to his right. Sure enough, there was a large area separated from the rest of the vault with all sorts of strange and interesting items scattered about. Some of the things had to be several centuries old at least, if not older than that. There was a whole armory of ancient weapons and armor. Enough books to fill the Hogwarts library were stacked onto rows of huge shelves that took up fully half the space for the non-monetary items.

Then there were the heirlooms. Quite a few antique pieces of furniture were scattered about, and there were several large trunks filled with jewelry of all types and descriptions. Harry initially started looking for the amulet in one of these trunks, when Sirius told him that it wasn't jewelry and would be in it's own case somewhere else.

It took a good half-hour amongst all the boxes of odds and ends that had collected in the vault, but he eventually found it stuck under a pile of ancient tapestries. It was just a small, nondescript wooden box, but Sirius assured him that it was indeed exactly what they were looking for. Harry opened the box to make sure, and gasped at the sensation the strange object gave him. It simply radiated power, like some sort of small sun that poured out magical energy instead of light and heat. He quickly closed the box again.

He turned to leave, but Sirius stopped him. Wait, Harry, that's not all.

Harry froze in midstep. What else? he asked.

There should be a trunk around here that your parents left for you. In the event of their death, you were supposed to receive it the summer before your first year at Hogwarts. As I was the only one to know this, and I was in Azkaban...

And Dumbledore's made sure I didn't know about this vault, so that means I didn't get a chance to find out. Harry finished grimly. Then a thought occured to him. Why didn't you take me here after you came back? The goblins wouldn't have mentioned it to anyone.

Honestly? I just assumed that Dumbledore would've taken you in here. It never occured to me that he would hide your own vault's existance from you.

Harry just shook his head in anger. Dumbledore apparently hadn't managed to learn from his mistake with the prophecy. He should've had Harry taken here before he went to Hogwarts his first year, or at the very least, after he'd returned to the Dursleys a week and a half earlier.

Harry located the trunk fairly quickly, as it had obviously just been tossed in quickly, instead of being stacked in neatly. That was Prongs, I'm sure chortled Sirius.

Harry ran his hand softly over the lid of the trunk. I was made of what appeared to be oak, and stained very dark. In gold lettering on the top were the initials HJP - a custom-made trunk by the looks of it.

He blinked back tears. This was the only gift he could remember coming directly from his parents instead of just being something they'd left with friends. Sirius, sensing that this was an emotional moment for Harry, remained silent.

After a few long moments, Harry opened the trunk slowly, and his eyes widened in shock. Inside was a large room, rather like the seventh compartment on Mad-Eye Moody's trunk. It wasn't as large, but it had enough room to store several hundred books, which were stacked onto shelves all around the walls of the room. There was also a couch, table, and lamp on a large rug in the middle of the room, and a writing desk off to one side occupying the one piece of empty wall space.

Did you know about this? Harry asked.

Sirius sounded just as surprised as Harry felt. No! I had no idea. I thought they just put a letter and some knick-knacks into a trunk for you. I had no idea they set you up your own library. There should be a letter for you in there somewhere though, so I suggest you get inside and find it.

Harry slid down the ladder that extended from the rim of the trunk into the room below, and gazed around for another minute in awe. It was quite a gift, that was for sure. He shook himself as he realized he needed to find that letter from his parents. He headed for the writing desk and saw not one, but two letters resting on the surface of it.

Grabbing the top one almost urgently, Harry could feel his hands shaking slightly in anticipation and nervousness. Right here was a direct link to his parents. Not a story told by someone who knew them, or assurances that they would be proud of him, but a letter from them to him.

He took a moment to calm himself and then tore the envelope open eagerly and began to read. It was written in a neat, precise scrawl that Harry guessed to be his mother's writing.

My Darling Little Boy,

If you're reading this, then I'm sad to say we have both been killed before you made it to Hogwarts, and you have had to live with your positively insane Uncle Sirius. (Sirius snorted indignantly in Harry's head) I hope that you can forgive us for not being there for you, and I hope also that if we are indeed dead, we died saving you from that monster known as Lord Voldemort.

I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore has told you of the prophecy, as it is something you need very much to know as you start your magical education. If he hasn't, then pester him until he does. Do not let him hide the full contents from you, as he has hidden them from us. Doubtless, Sirius has already told you what little we did know, and you'll want to find out exactly why that horrid man is after you.

This trunk, along with it's contents, is our gift to you. Make good use of it in the years ahead, as you prepare for your fight against the Dark Lord. Do not worry too much about the future. We're certain that you'll beat the old snake, and then you'll be free to live, marry, have kids, and someday tell your grandchildren stories of how you beat the stuffing out of old lizard-face (as your father so eloquently puts it). Live life to it's fullest, my son, and never let anything get you down.

You are a powerful wizard, Harry, and someday, I doubt not you shall bring peace to our world. Never doubt that, and most of all never doubt that we love you with all our hearts.

With all our love,

Your mother (and father)

Harry felt the stinging in his eyes and tried desperately to keep from crying, but he finally couldn't hold it in any longer. He sank slowly to his knees and bawled his eyes out. He cried for every time he'd been lonely as a child. He cried for every time he'd wished desperately that he had someone who loved him to hold him close. He cried for every time he'd seen his aunt and uncle lavish affection on their son, while never giving more than a contemptuous glare. And finally he cried for the life he could've had if only his parents had lived.

It was fully a quarter-hour before Harry, still sniffling, managed to grab the second letter and slit it open. This one appeared to be written in a messy scrawl - obviously his father. It was dated just a few days before his parents had been killed.

Dear Son,

As I write this, your mother is resting in our room. Today, October 26th, 1981, is perhaps one of the happiest, yet saddest days of my life.

Today, my daughter, your sister, Katherine Elizabeth Potter, was born. Yet tomorrow she will be leaving, and I do not know when, if ever, I shall see her again. We have decided that the only safe course of action for her is to send her with a muggle friend of mine to America.

As it is, we are living in hiding with you, and we never know when we may be found and killed. For her own safety, we must send her away. Your mother has not stopped crying since we came to this decision, and I feel I am not far off myself.

I am writing this letter to let you know of our reasons for doing what we are doing, in case we never get the chance to tell you ourselves. I hope only that both you and Katherine can forgive us for this. Believe me, it's the hardest decision that we have ever had to make.

We're meeting Professor Dumbledore in a week, and we'll let him know then. I'm sure he'll be surprised, since your sister was impatient to join the world, and came fully three weeks early. I had to go out and get a muggle woman (a former nurse) to help us with the delivery!

I'll tell you a little about the man that is going to take care of your little sister, Harry. His name is Frank Peterson, and he is one of the few people in the world to whom I would trust my life, and that of my family. He is a muggle, but he knows all about our world, in fact his wife and infant son were killed by Death Eaters several years ago. I've known him since I was a small boy, and we played together frequently at his parent's house.

Frank's given us an address to contact him in America. You'll find it enclosed in this letter. If he didn't hear from us within one year of leaving, he planned to vanish completely, and reintegrate himself somewhere else in muggle society, though I think he was going to send your sister to a magic school if she got a letter.

I'm sure you feel that all of this, our family being split up, the three of us living in hiding, is all your fault. Please don't ever think that, Harry. Your mother and I love the both of you very much, and all of this is to ensure both of your safety.

I hope that you never read this letter, and I burn it someday as the four of us laugh about it in front of the fire.

Remember that we love you both,

Your father (and mother)

That was it. After all the bombshells that had been dropped on him that day. All the surprises, all the emotional moments, Harry simply couldn't take it any more. He fainted, dead away.

AN

I know that the idea of him having a sister has been used before, but I planned this part of the book out long before I read any stories with that theme in them, and I refuse to change my plans just because it's become a bit cliche