Disclaimer: Hides in Hidey Hole Not mine!
-Witchcraft-
-Wands and Wings (and Floaty Crowny Things!)-
"I'm a… what?"
"A Witch, Mr Potter," the ancient looking Goblin stated bluntly, "a follower of the Green Way. It is very similar, if not identical to the magics used by all Magical Beings, Goblins included."
"I'm – I'm sorry, but I just don't understand." Harry again looked at the faces covered in tears of mirth surrounding him.
"Mr Potter, our point in bringing you here was not simply for a history lesson. The Great Schism of Magic frankly, has little importance to our mutual needs. Your being the sole male of the Warren Line are subject to Ancient Blood laws. We have an Inheritance Ritual prepared for you, which I do suggest you perform immediately so you can claim ownership of both the Potter and Warren estates.
"If you would look on the other branch of the Warren tree, you will find living relatives in the United States. As you know, your mother's blood protects you, therefore if you so desire you are able to contact them and possibly arrange a… change of address."
Harry looked around at the goblins that had turned deadly serious; thoughts began flying through his mind.
'What do they want? …Don't trust Goblins! … Inheritance?… What will they gain from this?… Is Voldemort behind this?… A new home!'
"And why should I trust you? After all it is well known Goblins are attracted to little else than gold…" Harry left the statement hanging, hoping he had not offended the creatures.
The Goblins began babbling rapidly in what Harry assumed was their language, some of them were quite obviously offended and Harry felt as if he had just dug his own grave.
"I didn't mean to offend, I was simply wondering what you would have to gain from helping me." The Goblins had quieted down now, and were staring at him in slight disbelief.
"Mr Potter, with you at them helm of not only the Warren Family, but the Potter Family as well, the Wizard's council will finally be able to legitimately meet and become the ruling body once more! Goblins once sat alongside Humans on the Council, but since the Ministry has been in power, we have been resigned to menial labour and refused our right to hold other jobs. Holding two votes on the council is a rarity, but when someone does, they tend to hold the balance of power on the council. You can lobby for the Goblins, for the House Elves, for the Centaurs! The trust of the Goblin Nation is in you, Mr Potter. We only want what should be ours otherwise." The same crotchety Goblin said, apparently he was their leader.
"I… I would like to complete this ritual, sir," Harry said, still looking at the three names beside his at the bottom of the family tree.
The Goblins ushered Harry into an adjoining room. It was made of black stone; all of the light in the room seemed to be absorbed by it. As he entered, he could feel the magic thick in the air, making his skin tingle and hair stand on end. In the centre of the room was a white pentagram with a jewelled knife and a piece of parchment set in front of it.
He was told to recite the words 'Concipo Relictus Hereditas Harry James Potter' as he smeared his blood along the outline of the pentagram.
As he did this, the pentagram absorbed the blood from the floor and began to glow an eerie green as the entire room shook. Harry stood in the centre of the pentagram and looked in shock as the parchment floated at the tip of the pentagram. The green light receded into the topmost point of the star, only to shoot into the parchment with a large Whoosh!
Harry fell to the floor as the scroll floated into his outstretched hands. He read the shining green words as they appeared.
Lord Harold James Evans Warren Black-Potter
(Order of Merlin's Torch, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of Dark Arts Defence Force.)
Birth name: Harold James Evans Potter
Date of Birth: 31st July 1980
Born to:
Lord James Wilfred Potter
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Auror First Class, Holder of the Raven's Claw.)
7th April 1960 – 31st October 1981
Lady Lily Roselind Evans-Potter
(Order of Merlin 1st Class, Order of Circe 1st Class, Charms Mistress.)
23rd August 1960 – 31st October 1981
Head of:
The Ancient and Beloved House of Potter
The Most Ancient and Powerful House of Warren
The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black
Titles:
Lord Potter
Seat on Wizengamot, Seat on Wizard's Council, International Confed. Wizards (British Council).
Lord Black
Seat on Wizengamot, Seat on Wizard's Council.
Lord Warren
Seat on Wizengamot, Seat on Wizard's Council.
Properties:
Potter Estates
Potter Castle, Wales (Unplottable)
Godric's Hollow, Scotland (Unplottable) (Dormant Fidelius Charm)
23 Kelpie Lane, Hogsmeade (Dervish and Banges)
6 Diagon Alley (Apothecary)
Warren Estates
Warren Castle, Ireland (Destroyed)
4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England.
56 Knockturn Alley (Rede's Apothecary and Green Supplies)
Halliwell Manor, San Francisco, United States.
Black Estates
Castle Black, Scotland (Unplottable)
Black Manor (Unplottable) (Active Fidelius Charm)
Chateau Noir, France (Unplottable)
Magical Status:
Magicus Subolesco: Not Achieved
Wiccaning: Not Performed
Levels/Abilities:
Wizarding: High Sorcerer, Magic growing, Subolesco pending,
Environmental
Magical Potential Bound (Tom Marvolo Riddle, Heir Slytherin)
Witchcraft: Witch, Powers Bound.
Telekinesis
Molecular Stasis
Molecular Disruption
A light appeared behind him, Harry turned to see one of the Goblins standing outside, motioning for him to follow. As Harry left the room, he noticed that the magic that had stifled him within the room had all but disappeared, and the pentagram was burned into the now white floor.
"Mr Potter, an Inheritance Ritual should not have used the amount of magic that yours did. It registered rather high on the meters, and was no doubt detected by others. Such bursts are always investigated by authourities, and I am afraid that Mr Dumbledore and Minister Fudge have arrived and are currently trying to gain entrance to the room you just left. May I see your Inheritance Record please?" Harry handed the sheet to the Goblin asking,
"I noticed there are some titles under my name, can you tell me where they're from?"
"Of course Mr Potter, they were awarded to you after your defeat of the Dark Lord. The Order of Merlin is an award granted to those who protect the Magical world, The Order of Merlin's Torch is a private award given to those worthy of wielding the legendary artefact. Nobody of course has yet to complete the trials since Merlin himself set them. And the Honourary membership to the Dark Arts Defence Force is given to those who defeated the Dark against the all odds. Ah, it seems that you were also named Heir to the Black Family, no doubt by your Godfather. Were you aware of his passing?"
Harry winced slightly, remembering the look of shock on Sirius' face as he fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Nodding, he quietly said,
"Yes."
"Ah, well we are sorry for your loss. Hopefully you can once again bring Honour to the Noble House of Black, Mr Potter. Now, lets see here… ah yes. You have the powers of Telekinesis and Molecular Control, very dangerous powers. Moving objects with your mind, and having the ability to freeze time, or accelerate it to the point of destruction. I suggest you wait until you meet your relatives before reading too far into Witchcraft. We must now finish the ritual in a safer place to establish yourself as the Magical Head of your Family and to unbind your Wizarding magic.
"We have long watched you and waited for the day you would gain inheritance. The Goblins are restless, Mr Potter, although we may look to be harmless bankers, we Goblins are, and always have been, trained warriors. It is taking all of our effort to keep the population from another rebellion. We need your help in securing our status in the Wizarding world."
"I… I'll do what I can."
The Goblin gave him a searching look and nodded, apparently satisfied with Harry's answer.
Harry was led into a large circular marble room filled with various tapestries depicting pureblood genealogy, in the centre upon a black dais sat a pedestal with three small boxes, one black, one green, and one purple. He was led to the dais and the boxes were opened. On the inside of the boxes were three crests; in the green box was one of a flaming Phoenix rising from a destroyed castle, the black had a full moon with a Thestral flying across it, and the third was a simple Celtic sign of three interlocking arcs surrounded by a circle.
Upon beds of silk sat three rings. The Potter Ring was gold with small glowing emeralds surrounding a ruby. The Black Ring was silver with a solitary piece of Onyx that was so dark it shone with a dark light. The final ring, the Warren Ring was gold with the inset crest in black, the crest, too, shone with inner light and power.
"The rings will unbind your magic, and instruct you on proper Pureblooded customs. You will know where to place each ring."
Harry nodded, and placed the Black Ring on his right little finger, the Potter Ring on his right ring finger, and the Warren Ring on his left ring finger. Each began to glow as a tingle began to work its way through his body. Harry was immediately overcome with an urge to speak in a powerful, echoing voice.
"I, Harold James Evans Warren Black-Potter, do swear upon my soul, magic, and spirit to uphold the laws and traditions of my Family as Patriarch to the lines of Potter, Black, and Warren. So it is said, so it is done. Blessed Be."
A blinding flash consumed him as he felt the magic within him release, a weight was lifted off of his soul, and a ghostly spectre floated from his scar with a screech. When the light had subsided, Harry noted that his hair was now longer and pulled back into a ponytail. Dudley's rags, which he had been wearing, had transformed into shimmering robes of deep black. Upon the left breast was a new crest, within the Triquetra, which he now knew was the crest of the Warren Family, were a Thestral and a Phoenix joined in a flight of crimson flames.
"Come, Lord Potter, we have retrieved your belongings and are preparing for your departure."
"Of course, please lead on," Harry said with a newfound confidence.
The two made their way back to the conference room Harry had started in. Along with the Family Tree, Harry's trunk now sat against a wall and there was also a large book bound in dark green with the Warren Crest upon it. He opened it and in stylised gothic lettering, it bore the words:
The Book of Shadows
-423 BC-
'I should probably wait before reading further, the risks of learning alone are too great.' Harry thought to himself.
'I'll need a new wand, and proper clothes,' Harry thought, going over the information the rings were feeding into his mind, 'I should probably visit the Family Vaults later too.'
Still looking at the first page in the book, he said to the goblin, whose name he learned was Ragnok;
"I need to go into the Alley for some shopping – I assume I have access to all three family vaults?" After seeing Ragnok nod, he continued. "Good, I would like a Muggle Credit Card along with a Book of Gringotts Bank Drafts for each vault."
"Of course, Lord Potter, shall I have someone bring them for you?"
"Please." Harry turned to the goblin standing by the door. "Call me Harry; oh, and could I get someone to shrink this trunk for me?"
"As you wish, Harry."
Twenty minutes later Harry was walking through Diagon Alley towards Ollivander's. He had just left Madam Malkins with a rather large order that would take the better part of a week to prepare. Madam Malkin herself had fainted after seeing the bank draft handed to her after taking his measurements. Since the 'Bonding' as Harry dubbed it to himself, he had been seeing intermittent flashes of colour surrounding people and objects. In some areas throughout the alley, there were clouds of colour simply being, not noticed by anyone as they walked through them. Entering the ancient shop, Harry felt as if his entire self was under attack, a weight had been put on his shoulders, he felt dulled and slow.
"Mr Potter, I must say this is a surprise. Are… are you alright, my boy?"
"I… help!" he managed to gasp out.
Harry promptly sank to the floor, unconscious. His eyes had rolled back into his head leaving only white, a green aura formed around him and colours began to swirl from the air being drawn towards his body. Ardwick Ollivander was stunned; for once in his long life he had encountered something unexpected, something that his second sight generally prevented. He pulled out his wand and began muttering to himself, the quick analysis charm read:
Unbound Environmental – Magic Rising.
In a panic, he cast his strongest suppressant charm, effectively cutting off the young man from the immense amount of magic inside the shop. Untrainted Environmentals were easily overwhelmed by ambient magic. He watched as Harry's breathing slowed to normal and the auras disappeared, he rolled over and groggily sat up.
"Unh, what happened?"
"That was quite a scare, Mr Potter, how recently did you unbind your magic?"
"Umm… Half an hour ago, at Gringotts."
"Well, Mr Potter, your Environmental abilities have already begun to manifest, have you been seeing any flashes of colour?"
Harry pulled himself into a chair that was sitting against the wall; he shook his head and looked around. The entire shop was a rainbow of colour all centering around Mr Ollivander who was in a nimbus of pale blue light, it was slowly fading, receding into him.
"Yes, you… you're blue. What's an Environmental?"
"An Environmental, Mr Potter, is a wizard who has the ability to draw magic from the very environment around them rather than relying on their own core magic. The colours help to identify different concentrations of magic. I imagine my shop is quite a sight to see indeed. When you were in here first I assumed you were aware of the block placed on your magic. They aren't generally noticed unless you perform certain rituals… Ah I see," Ollivander muttered to himself quietly, His eyes darting to the rings on Harry's hands, "Now, how may I help you, Mr Potter?"
Harry was stunned, he needed to learn how to control this new ability, but first, he needed a new wand.
"Oh, sorry about that. Yes, I need a new wand. My magic was bound, by Voldemort. I assume that's why one so similar to his chose me. I can already feel the magic inside me is different, I'm sure if I tried to use my wand now, the results wouldn't be as good as they were before"
Ardwick sighed, this was a classic case where the Ministry of Magic interfered with the development of young Wizard's magic. Wizards were limited to one wand for the same reason Ardwick was limited to using Phoenix Feather, Unicorn Tail Hair, and Dragon Heartstrings. Uniqueness was dangerous to the Ministry. If they knew Mr Potter was an Environmental, they would submit him to a 'Ministry approved syllabus' and force him to register so they could track his every move… not that they weren't doing it already. With great resignation, Ardwick said,
"I'm sorry, Mr Potter, it is strictly forbidden, and I cannot sell you a new wand unless your old one is broken with a certificate from the Ministry."
"But… Sir, I…"
"However, I do know of a small shop in Knockturn Alley run by a Wandcrafter just behind Borgin and Burkes. His wands are substantially better than the ones you will get from me for the simple fact that they are custom-made to your specific magical signature, they are also quite illegal in the fact that no Ministry tracking charms are applied." The peculiar old man said with a smile.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of going there, Mr Ollivander, thank you for the warning."
"Of course dear boy, what are we Ancient Bloods to do, but help each other?" He said still smiling, "That Suppressor Charm will wear off over the next hour to allow you to get used to the different concentrations of magic around you, if you feel heavy again, imagine erecting a barrier between yourself and the magic outside."
"Sir, I was wondering… what exactly does being an Ancient Blood… entail?"
"Ah, I was hoping you would ask," Ardwick said softly. With a flick of his wand, the blinds shut and the door locked. With a surprisingly limber hop, Ollivander was seated upon the dusty desk that was usually covered in failed wands.
"As Ancient Bloods we have a duty to uphold tradition, within the law unfortunately. My family were originally Wandcrafters, we gathered materials from far and wide to create the most unique wands. I remember as a boy the last of our crafted wands was sold… Elfwood 16 and ¼ inches, with Kappa teeth, suspended in the blood of the Dalai Llama; willingly given of course! But of course the Ministry of Magic feels such wands are far too powerful to be used, and much harder to regulate, so we are resigned to making children's wands for the general public. The wands we currently sell my boy were once made strictly for young children to control their Accidental Magic! But alas, I've gotten off track. As Ancient Bloods we are the eldest, anywhere from one to two thousand years or more of history. Our younger generations, the ones that emerged during and around the time of the Founding of Hogwarts are known as the Purebloods; they are arrogant, mistrustful, and generally a drain on most of society. As a result, we – the Ancient Bloods, took the younger families under our wings, they are the Elderbloods, anywhere from eight to two hundred years old. They are our Vassals, our servants, our subjects. Yours will contact you shortly, their families out number us greatly. The youngest of the caste system are the Commonbloods, those two hundred years old and younger. They are free of bonds, because they are viewed as still being 'unpure' and dirty. They make up the majority of the population. Do you understand?"
"I think so, I don't like the idea of being the highest authority though. 'Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely' after all," Harry said quietly from his dusty seat, his rings confirming Ollivander's every word.
"Oh we aren't the highest authority. That job falls to House Emrys," Ollivander's piercing eyes glazed over, "The house of Merlin. Anyways, many of the families have been lost, either to a Dark Lord, or other circumstances. The Lord of that Family may grant the position to another family. For example, the House Crouch is vassal to the House of Bones, therefore if Lady Bones were to make let's say, Rufus Scrimgeour Head of House Crouch, it would become House Scrimgeour and automatically gain Elderblood status. And in the case of your multiple Lordships, you will be required to have at least three children. The Eldest will be heir to House Potter, the second will be Heir to…" Ollivander looked closer at the three rings, "oh my! That is House Warren is it not? Well what a pleasant surprise! The Green Way flows strong in the blood of House Warren. Your second son, or first daughter will be heir to House Warren, and the third… oh dear! Young Sirius is no longer with us? You have my greatest condolences, Mr Potter. Indeed he was a great man. That lordship will undoubtedly go to your third son."
They spoke for a little while longer, until Harry rose to leave. With a slight backward glance, Harry asked,
"Who did your last crafted wand choose?"
With an odd smile, Ollivander said, "It has served Albus well over the past century and a half, as I'm sure yours will serve you Mr Potter.
The mysterious Ollivander then disappeared into the back of his shop, as Harry left the store for Knockturn Alley.
With his hood up, Harry couldn't see any of the strange characters he currently smelt, he could, however, see the blackened cobblestone that was splashed with liquids of all sorts, possibly even blood. As he reached Borgin and Burkes, he spotted by the entrance to a small alleyway, a grubby arrow-shaped sign depicting a wand. He hurried down the rough path that was less than a metre wide until he came to a heavy wooden door with the words Wandcrafting: Est. 1895. He knocked twice upon the door and heard heavy bolts being slid down. The door creaked open slightly and Harry heard a wheezy voice,
"Who sent you, what do you want?"
"I'm here for a wand. Ollivander sent me."
The door creaked open loudly and Harry slipped inside. Again colours assaulted his eyes but with the Suppressor active he didn't feel them. The room was small and lined with shelves similar to Ollivander's shop. A small man stood in front of him, eyeing him up and down.
"You need a custom-crafted job then, come with me."
The man walked through an oak door into a room lined with materials for wand making.
"You'll need to choose a wood first, go around and feel each one – whichever one feels best bring it over to me."
Harry walked over to a far shelf with a row of woods; he walked along touching each piece. Closing his eyes, he felt each one, their differences, and their magic until he reached one. His magic rushed towards it and he could feel a sense of belonging. Opening his eyes, he saw the darkest wood he had ever seen. Surrounding it was an aura of bright green – the exact shade of his eyes. He looked closer and saw absolutely no grain to the wood; it was as if it was a piece of plastic, if not for the magic that was singing around it. He brought it to the short man and received a toothless, gummy grin from him.
"Amazing," He wheezed. "That is Basilisk's Ebony - extremely rare, it grows upon the ground where a Basilisk has decomposed. Now we need to shape the block, what you need to do is merge your magic with the magic of the wood and tell it to form."
"Alright."
Harry put his hands on the dark wood and closed his eyes. He focused on the feeling of his magic, the rush of warmth that filled him with every spell uttered. He coaxed it out of hiding and nudged it towards the wood.
'Join, meld, shape, form.'
He felt the wood respond with its own magic, another type of warmth, more of the tingle and the feeling of acceptance. Under his hands, the wood seemed to melt and twist around his hand. When the feeling stopped, he felt his magic return to his body and he opened his eyes, the smooth handle sat perfectly in his palm and the wood had formed a spiral around the knuckle of his index finger and took the form of a basilisk with two hollows where the eyes should be at the tapered end.
"Excellent form, sir, now like you did before, extend your magic towards the core materials and whichever ones feel right, allow them to filter into your wand."
Harry walked towards the wall and again coaxed his magic outward. Three objects floated towards him; a large golden feather, a smaller feather which Harry knew to be Phoenix, a phial of shimmering dark grey dust, and a jar of what looked like blood. Upon closer inspection the feather appeared to be a Griffin's feather, the phial had a small label that read Shavings from the Hammer of Thor and the label on the jar read Runespoor Venom, Age 274. Harry moved the feathers closer to the wand and allowed them to enter. The Basilisk's mouth opened and swallowed the now intertwined feathers. Harry pulled the top off the phial and let the shavings fall into the Basilisk's mouth. After a second, the Basilisk jumped forward and sunk tiny fangs into the jar; the red liquid slowly disappeared into the wand creating a swirl of gold and green lights. The Basilisk pulled back and returned to its previous state.
"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful, sir. Your wand appears to need a focusing stone, please continue." The small man was positively bouncing with excitement.
On a nearby table sat a pile of gems, many of them magical in formation. Extending his magic again, a blindingly red ruby and a single bright yellow stone rose and began to spin; they split into two and merged in mid air. Harry noticed the ruby had taken the form of a Triquetra within each half of the yellow stone, after a moment they sunk into the eyeholes on the wand. They glowed for a moment and went dull, but retained a twinkle that wasn't present before.
"I… I'm done, its amazing, thank you."
"As Mr Ollivander would say, give it a wave!"
So Harry did, and an emerald nimbus flowed from the tip of the wand surrounding him with warmth.
"How much?"
"All custom works are one price, 3000 Galleons."
"No problem," came Harry's breathless reply, still staring at the amazing creation before him.
Miles away, in a large, but dilapidated Manor atop a hill, Voldemort sat, recovering from his battle with Dumbledore at the Ministry. Most of the Magic he had regained over the past year went into that battle, along with the constant mental attacks on the Potter boy; between the two, Voldemort was suffering from magical exhaustion. He was currently listening to a report from Severus Snape, his spy in Dumbledore's school. Silently categorising the report, he was unaware as a green spectre flew through the room and into him. A sudden feeling of extreme fatigue plagued him, and he vaguely recognised Potter's magical signature before passing out.
Severus Snape watched this happen while giving his report. He saw the spectral form of Voldemort enter the room, and then into the real thing. He watched Voldemort fall backwards in his chair, unconscious.
"Milord?" He asked quietly, secretly with glee.
All of a sudden, Severus felt something enter his mind, through his Occlumency barriers.
'The Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black has ascended.'
Cursing, Severus pulled a phial from his pocket labelled, Draught of Living Death, and poured five drops into the serpentine mouth of Voldemort. Bracing himself, he ran to inform the other Death Eaters that their Lord had suddenly fallen ill.
Author's Note: Review!