"Come, Harry. Take a walk with me. There is still much for you to see, and much for us to discuss."
With that, Grilthauk left the room. Harry followed, a brief sojourn during which Harry the truth of his mother's heritage, the truth that Lily Evans-Potter herself never knew, and armed with that truth, Harry's former path would close to him, and a new one would open in its place.
Chapter Three: Bloodlines – What He Shall Become
Disclaimer: If you've seen it before, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. Otherwise, it's mine. Naturally, I'm making no money off this.
Harry followed Grilthauk down a winding corridor; the goblin walking briskly and the still-injured Harry struggling to keep up, becoming increasingly annoyed with each painful passing step. A week ago, he'd probably have been yelling at the old President of Gringotts by this point, but now his face betrayed only a slight scowl, perhaps a direct consequence of the inborn emotional repressors from his now active dakaathi blood, though Harry wouldn't even have noticed. It seemed only natural to him. Grilthauk took a sudden right turn, nearly causing Harry to stumble as he adjusted his path to follow. A jolt of pain shot through his legs with the sudden jerking movement. This was getting ridiculous, Harry thought.
"Goblin, you're leading me to nowhere. We were supposed to be sitting down to talk."
Grilthauk turned back to the young part-dakaath.
"I have not forgotten. We will speak more when we reach your ancestral vault. There are things you need to see. I know that you are still injured. I have instructed one of the goblins to have a pain-reducing potion ready in my office. We will have to pass through there on the way. The only entrance to your family's vault is via direct passage from my personal chambers."
"I'm quite positive it'll work just as well as the last pain reliever you offered me. Besides that, what you say is nonsense. Griphook escorted me to my family vault a month before my first year at Hogwarts, and I've been there several times since."
Grilthauk flashed Harry a small grin of approval.
"I am pleased that you still remember his name, young Harry. Not many humans would have enough sense to consider a goblin's name worth so much as a second thought. Yes, I believe that we can expect great leadership from you. We will not be visiting the Potter family fault, at least today. Now please, right this way. We are almost there."
Harry had no idea what to make of that, none whatsoever. Grilthauk was the goblin chieftain, so the idea of Harry leading the creatures was ridiculous. He was curious as to where the old goblin was leading him, if not to the Potter vault. Surely not the Black vault, the will hadn't even been read yet. That could only mean...but his mum was Muggleborn. True, Grilthauk had implied otherwise earlier in his office, but Harry had thought that the treacherous cretin was just fabricating some kind of explanation in order to trick him into putting on that accursed ring. Grilthauk was getting too far ahead, though, and Harry had to abandon his thoughts to catch up.
Presently, the pair reached a set of slightly scorched double doors, the gold plating melted in several places. Harry noticed a pair of holes on one of the doors, almost as if it'd been eaten through by acid, watching as Grilthauk ran a finger across the other, causing them both to creak open. His office, Harry realized as he followed the old goblin in. The room was in absolute ruin. Grilthauk's weapons were scattered about the floor bent and broken; his flags and pennants reduced to ashes. Even the desk was nearly in cinders. He obviously had truly done that much damage during his initial transformation. And yet Grilthauk weathered the magical storm unharmed. It must have had something to do with his armor, maybe the stuff was enchanted.
"Your potion is on the desk, Harry. And please, do not concern yourself with the office. It was due for a remodel anyway."
"How very generous of you. Realize, goblin, that I fully intend to rip out your intestinal tract and use it as toilet paper if this potion does anything to me other than numb the pain."
Harry downed the potion in one swallow. This time, it actually did relieve Harry's pain. He nodded to Grilthauk.
"Alright, then. Let's continue on. Let's see the entrance to this supposed vault."
"Of course. Follow me, Harry."
Grilthauk walked over his desk and prodded a small switch on the underside. With a low rumble, a long rectangular strip of the floor separated and opened, revealing a secret passageway leading underneath. Grilthauk started down the passage, motioning for Harry to follow. It was so dark and dingy that Harry had difficulty seeing in front of him, but he didn't dare cast a Lumos or anything similar, having no desire to bring the Ministry down upon him again. It wasn't that he was afraid of Fudge and his cronies, but it was just too much of a hassle. Presently, the passage led to an enormous cavern, roughly the size of the entirety of Hogwarts Castle. It was surprisingly well brightened. Grilthauk turned back to Harry.
"The torches in here have been charmed to always remain lit. Your great-grandfather was a truly powerful wizard, Harry. Not a single human soul, living or dead, has been down in this chamber for over half a century."
The word "chamber" reminded Harry of the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts. It, too, had been deserted for half a century, before being opened during Harry's second year. He wondered if this chamber also had some great monster guarding it against unwelcome visitors. He decided to ask.
"Grilthauk, there had better now be any monsters down here."
The goblin chieftain smiled nastily at Harry, before pointing to his right. Harry looked in the indicated direction, and was not at all happy with what he saw. A dragon, and not one of the regular garden-variety dragons like the ones from the Triwizard Tournament. This dragon was well over twice the size of that Hungarian Horntail. It was a pure jet-black, looked to have a wingspan of at least a hundred feet, and had three heads. Hagrid would have gladly sold his soul to Voldemort just to be able to have a look at this thing, Harry mused. Thankfully, it seemed to be fast asleep.
"That thing is enormous, goblin. I'm in no condition to fight, and even I can tell when an enemy is better avoided."
"A Nidhogg, Harry. This beast has been guarding the Evans family treasury since the day Gringotts was built. It is older than the Four Founders of Hogwarts, and would have proven a difficult adversary for any of them. It is the only creature of its kind left, and has been in a magically-induced state of hibernation, ever since the last acknowledged lord of the Evans line passed from this world over fifty years ago and this chamber was sealed. Once you break that seal on the vault with your magical signature, Harry, it will awaken and resume its duties once more. It is time, young one. Follow me to this door, and open the path to your destiny."
Evans...so, this was about his mother's family. His mother was descended from a pureblooded line after all. That would mean that Aunt Petunia bore magical blood as well. Oh dear, that old horse-faced bitch would be absolutely mortified, not to mention what the walrus would think. Harry made a mental note to owl his Muggle relatives with the joyful news as soon as he was able. But that last statement of Grilthauk's...Harry's destiny. He didn't like that at all. He didn't want to be bound by something as ridiculous as some destiny. He already had enough to deal with, that ridiculous Prophecy made by that old bawd Trelawney. Even so, Harry wanted to see what awaited him beyond this last sealed door. He walked cautiously over to Grilthauk's location and stopped before a large runic door fashioned of a strange metallic blue material, the likes of which he had never seen before. Grilthauk drew the sword from his waist and handed it to Harry, who took it with a slight bit of hesitation.
"Make a small incision on the palm of your right hand and smear the blood on the door, Harry."
Harry did so, marveling at how easily the blade cut through. He decided that he certainly wouldn't want to be on the business end of a slash from this particular weapon. When Harry touched his bloodied hand against the door, it began to glow with a strange light. A loud growling sound from behind startled Harry, though he didn't flinch. Apparently the Nidhogg was awake. The vault door, seal broken, slid open, and Harry stalked in, wondering what riches might await him, Grilthauk following close behind.
If a large pile of gold, silver and bronze is what Harry was expecting, he was greatly mistaken. This room wasn't just a vault. It was an entire underground complex, fit for human habitation if need be. It was equipped with a fully stocked potions lab, including some ingredients that could no longer be found in this world. Not that Harry would have known that, but Severus Snape would likely have had a mild orgasm on the spot. There was a large training chamber, both for physical and magical combat, equipped with a formal dueling strip and training dummies. The complex's library contained several rare and priceless tomes, including one on ancient light arts written by Merlin, himself. There was even a large dining hall capable of accommodating several hundred people. And then there were the treasure vaults. The largest contained the Evans family's actual physical assets, spilling with enough gold galleons to make the Malfoys look only moderately wealthy by comparison. Combining the Evans fortune with what Harry would soon inherit from the Potter and Black vaults, Harry could buy the majority of Britain and have enough gold left over to swim in. Harry briefly considered building an overlarge money bin to stock his gold, like in that muggle cartoon about the old duck with the Scottish accent. No, he decided, that would be entirely too ridiculous.
"Well, I guess I won't have to worry about money ever again. You know, I think it's about time I started enjoying my money, and to Hell with what Dumbledore and the rest will think of it."
Grilthauk chuckled lightly.
"Come on, Harry. There are still a few rooms that I would like to show you, and then we can sit down and have that talk."
Harry followed, finally completely free of the pain of his transformation earlier in the day. The next room was filled with what seemed to be pure ore, of that same material that the door to the vault was comprised of. He walked over to a well-sized boulder and ran his hands over the material. It was smooth, but seemed almost indestructible. Harry smirked slightly, and swung Grilthauk's blade, a weapon of incomparable sharpness forged of ancient enchanted ingot iron by a legendary goblin blacksmith and inscribed with battle runes to enhance sharpness and durability besides, with the full extent of his newfound dakaathi strength. Sword met stone in a shower of sparks, and not a single scratch or crack was made to either. Harry looked a bit disappointed.
"Well, that wasn't what I was expecting. Your sword is too dull, Grilthauk."
"No, Harry. If you searched the world over you'd find no blade sharper than mine. However, that material is arkanite ore, a rare mineral found only in the deepest mines of Russia very near the planet's core, where muggle technology cannot even hope to reach. It is considered to be completely impenetrable, both by physical and magical means. Arkanite is priceless, and any blacksmith would consider it a great honor to be trusted to work with it."
"If it's so priceless, explain to me why there is so much of it here."
"Your great-grandfather, once again After many years of research, he and Nicholas Flamel colleagued in discovering the alchemical formula. This was long before the latter's work with Dumbledore in the creation of the Sorcerer's Stone. However, that formula requires a special grade of blood ruby, itself extremely rare in this realm and impossible to produce through magical means. It is fairly common in the demon realm, however. The dakaath happen to use it as a form of currency when trading with other demonic tribes, though they tend to trade with women within their own borders. The stockpile you see here is the result of three years of alchemical work."
Harry cocked an eyebrow. Trading with women. How very kinky. But something else bothered him...
"You seem to know qyute a bit. And you've spoken of this great-grandfather of mine before. Tell me who he was. I want answers, goblin."
"And you shall have them, Harry. Do not be impatient. There are two rooms left for you to see."
Harry nodded and followed Grilthauk to the adjoining room, which was filled with...eggs. Hundreds, maybe thousands of eggs, of all shapes and colors and sizes. This particular room seemed to have a powerful cooling charm built in.
"This, Harry, is the Evans family's magical creature collection. Through selective breeding over many generations, the family has managed to procure a male and a female representative of nearly every species, and indeed, subspecies, within the magical world. They have been trapped in their smallest infant forms, placed into magically induced comas, and placed within these eggs. They can only be awakened by a direct descendent of the Evans line, and are magically bonded to that person upon hatching."
All of these creatures, trapped in captivity for Merlin knows how long, Harry mused. Hermione would go absolutely ballistic, and so would Hagrid. For vastly differing reasons, of course. Grilthauk, with a strange glint in his eye, walked towards the final room, which was protected by yet another arkanite door. This one, though, only had a small notch in the very center.
"Press your legacy ring into the notch, Harry."
Harry complied, a bit skeptical, but the ring fit perfectly. Upon contact with the ring, the door flashed a greenish color and then slid open. What greeted Harry beyond was a structure that would later change the fate of the entire world, to the extent of its near destruction. A gigantic archway made of a strange black metal, engraved on nearly every available bit of its surfaces by runic symbols, of a language the likes of which Harry had never seen and could not even begin to fathom. Ten or fifteen people standing side-by-side could fit through with relative ease. Harry didn't know what it was, but he ventured a guess.
"...It's a portal to the demon realm."
Grilthauk fixed him with a saccharine smile that looked horribly out of place on his wrinkled goblin face.
"Yes, Harry. This portal is your great-grandfather's greatest work, the culmination of all his later life's research. Nearly sixty years of time and effort went in to building and structure and researching all of the runic patterns. The language is that of the fallen seraphii, the first demons, believed to have been cast out from the realm of the afterworld, the sacred ground upon which no mortal man may ever tread. They are the direct ancestors of the dakaath, and that very fact is the reason that the tribe whose blood flows in your veins believe themselves to be the rightful rulers of the entirety of the demon realm. Even with your great-grandmother's help, herself a dakaathi royal princess fully trained in the ancient demonic languages, along with an entire team of dakaathi sages and artificers, it took your great-grandfather, genius though he was, countless days of time and energy to complete it."
Harry was impressed. There was simply no alternative but to be.
"Incredible. So, lets hear how it works. How one opens it, as it were.."
"There is an ancient summoning ritual that allows one to bring forth and command the energies of all three realms: ordered energy from the realm of humans, chaotic energy from the realm of demons, and divine energy from the realm of the afterworld. If these three elements are combined in equal proportion, it is possible to open a portal from this realm to another. However, the sheer amount of power required for opening a portal of this magnitude...the overall magical force would have to significantly exceed that of Merlin at his absolute maximum strength. Even the current powers of Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort combined would likely be insufficient."
Right, that was a lot of power. Not that Harry really had any desire to visit the demon realm to begin with. He was only curious.
"I believe you owe me that story now, Grilthauk. We'll sit in the library."
"Of course, Harry. It is time you learned of your destiny."
There he went with that destiny stuff again. Harry was growing quite bored of it. The pair sat down in a couple of armchairs in the compound's library.
"All right, I'm listening."
"Very well, Harry. I shall now tell you the story of your great-grandfather. Nearly two hundred years ago, a wizard of great power and unsurpassed genius graduated from Hogwarts. He was a proud Ravenclaw, the very best of his class in every subject he desired to study. His name was Alphonse Evans. Similar to the way you have today, Alphonse came to the lordship of his family at the young age of nineteen. His parents made the fatal mistake of using a simple levitation spell a bit too near a group of Muggles, religious fanatics, while taking a holiday somewhere in South America. They were caught unaware by a rather large mob, tied up, and executed for heresy and witchcraft."
His parents were murdered as well, then. Must run in the family, Harry thought dryly.
"Unable to cope and too logical to simply turn to blind hate for all muggles, Alphonse buried himself in his research. Indeed, he thirsted to unravel the most intricate mysteries of the magical world. With the prestige and resources of the Evans family, the most far-reaching in wizarding Britain, perhaps in the entire European continent, it seemed nothing was out of his grasp. He took a strong interest in alchemy for a good while, working alongside the great master Nicholas Flamel in developing the formula for arkanite, among other accomplishments..."
The old goblin paused for a moment.
"...Now one day Alphonse made a trip down to the Evans family compound here at Gringotts, mostly to make a withdrawal to fund his research, but decided to scour the library for any interesting alchemical tomes at the same time. What he found instead was a book of ancient summoning rituals dating back from the time of Merlin, the very beginnings of your secluded world. It took him nearly a year to decipher the language, even with references to help, but when he did. he came across a spell. One nearly impossible to work, but with truly revolutionary possibilities."
Harry spoke up for the first time since Grilthauk had begun his story.
"The portal spell."
"Yes, Harry. Alphonse became obsessed with the idea of doing what no human wizard had ever done before. He wished to travel to the demon realm, spoken of only in legend. He wished to learn of their people and customs, and to bring that knowledge back to the human realm. However, he could not work the spell alone. He recruited the assistance of a rising magical prodigy, a young wizard with raw power the likes of which the wizarding world had not seen since the days of legend, to assist him in opening a portal large enough for Alphonse to take into the demon realm."
"...Dumbledore."
"Yes, your great-grandfather and Dumbledore worked the spell together, and with their combined magical power, they succeeded in creating a portal large enough for Alphonse. Alphonse came out on the middle Karal'taleth, the capital city of the dakaathi civilization. Thankfully, the translation charm from the human realm still worked in the demon realm, the latter's magical reservoir containing just enough ordered energy to work the spell, and so Alphonse was able to communicate with this unknown race. The dakaath, having never seen a visitor from another realm, treated him exceedingly well, and he stayed in the royal palace and dined at the same table as the king and queen. Dakaathi soldiers and scholars accompanied Alphonse on his travels throughout the realm, as your great-grandfather wrote volumes on the different species, and on the nature of demonic magic. He was given the highest honor of the winged demonic race, a princess of the royal family to take as his own. He loved the place, Harry, so much that he was reluctant to leave, and he didn't. It is here that Alphonse did his work on the stones of his portal, in hopes that one day, travel between the two realms would be possible for all. He remained within the dakaathi kingdom for several decades..."
Grilthauk paused to catch his breath once more.
"...During his stay, the demon realm was gripped by a terrible catastrophe. A minor god, expelled from the realm of the afterworld, like the dakaath's ancestors had been centuries before, made his way to the demon realm. His name was Zharrghast, and he intended to make the entire realm into his personal empire, with which to raise a great army of demonic soldiers in order to attempt an invasion upon the realm of the afterworld. Of course, the demons, dakaath included, resisted. It was in vain. Zharrghast wielded a sword of cataclysmic power; a weapon forged of the combined energies of all the three realms, ordered, chaotic, and divine, coalesced into physical form and imbued into a blade of dark matter. He christened the weapon the Demarr Devil Blade. With it he could challenge even the elder gods themselves, to say nothing of mere mortals. Zharrghast slaughtered all that opposed him. In a last and desperate effort, the dakaath begged Alphonse, whose wisdom and power was famed throughout the realm, to challenge the corrupted deity at a special place within the demon realm. This place was the very point at which all three realms, all three planes of existence, intersected, a battlefield at which all three magical energies could be wielded with equal effectiveness..."
Another pause.
"..Alphonse, though hopelessly outmatched in terms of pure power, accepted. He could not turn a blind eye to the sufferings of those who had shown him such kindness. He battled against Zharrghast, fighting completely defensively, for nearly three full days. In this way, he broke the god's patience, and Zharrghast made a critical error. He used the Demaar Devil Blade's full potential, creating a great nexus leading into the abyss of the demonic underworld, a place from which no living being could escape. He then fired a pulse of pure chaotic energy from the Demarr Devil Blade at Alphonse, hoping to either obliterate him outright or cast him into the abyss. Alphonse dodged, and used a powerful ordered banishing curse to send Zharrghast's attack into the nexus, where the negative energies of the abyss increased its magnitude a hundred fold and spat it back out. The empowered wave naturally sought out the greatest source of pure energy in the realm - Zharrghast. Crushed by his own rebounded attack, the fallen god was seriously wounded. Alphonse then summoned the Demaar Devil Blade away from Zharrghast, and then banished him through his own nexus, finally exerting all of his energies to close the hole, trapping his enemy inside for all eternity."
Harry just listened, too absorbed to say a word. He wondered momentarily if this ancestor of his was truly so noble, or if Grilthauk was embellishing the tale for some reason or another. Harry decided that he wouldn't have exerted himself so needlessly, fully aware of the fact that he had done just that for the last five years. Brave Harry Potter, the shining, Gryffindor hero. Looking back at it all was nearly enough to make him nauseous. Grilthauk continued his tale.
"And so, Alphonse triumphed. He had exerted his all, drained his magical reserves down to the very fiber of his being. He was grievously injured and would never fully recover from the battle. The dakaath hailed Alphonse as a hero, as the savior of the entire demon realm. In this way, he became a sort of demonic parallel to you yourself. He was presented with Zharrghast's cursed brand, the Demarr Devil Blade, as a proof of his victory. However, Alphonse knew that his time remaining in the realm of the living was short. He petitioned to return home in order to share the fruits of his years of research within the demon realm with his own people, and to see to the continuation of his family line..."
Harry did not want to think about a man that old having sexual relations, and tried his best to force the image from his mind.
"..Through the use of an old fertility spell, as Alphonse was nearly a hundred and thirty years old at this point, his wife, the dakaathi princess Khariana, carried his only child to term while her husband's physical injuries healed. Ironically, Michael Evans was born a Squib despite the powerful magical bloodlines of both of his parents. There was no time for a second attempt, though, and Alphonse again petitioned the dakaathi royal family to send sages with him to the place where he and Zharrghast had battled, the place where the energy of all three realms was gathered in abundance, to create a portal to send him home. His wife could not accompany him, as she was the only child of the dakaathi royal family and thus the future queen. She gave him the ring that you wear on your finger today as a promise that her heart and soul, her very essence, would always be his. And so, Alphonse, along with his newborn son, the Demarr Devil Blade, his many volumes of research, several tons of the blood ruby needed to create pure arkanite, and the three engraved slabs that would constitute his great portal, were sent back to the human realm..."
Harry looked down at the ring on his finger, Khariana's promise, with a faint hint of pride.
"...However, times had changed in the magic world during the seventy years that Alphonse had spent in the demon realm. The Ministry of Magic had grown incorrigibly corrupt, and the great conflict that the muggles refer to today as the Great War, as well as Britain's recent entry into a second such conflict, had filled the hearts and minds of all people, Muggle and wizard alike, with fear and insecurity. And so when Alphonse returned home bearing an ominous weapon and countless books on demons and chaotic magic, he was quickly condemned as a dark wizard and persecuted. Saddened and enraged at this mindless betrayal, but unwilling to stain his family's name with the stigma of having spawned a dark lord, Alphonse Evans assumed the name of Lord Grindelwald, the name by which history would remember him. He falsely claimed to be an agent of Nazi Germany, a personal confidant of Adolf Hitler, sent to purge wizarding Britain of impurities."
Lord Grindelwald. The dark wizard that Dumbledore had fought against in the 1940's was Harry's great-grandfather. Perhaps Dumbledore also knww about this. Harry smirked inwardly, wondering what the wizarding public would think of this little piece of information, to say nothing of the likes of Hermione and the Weasleys. Hermione might have enough sense to remain loyal to him, but Harry still had his doubts. But the Weasleys would turn against him in half a heartbeat, as deep as their prejudices ran. Not that it was really important, Harry decided. Grindelwald was smart enough to keep the Evans name clean, so nobody could possibly connect any of it to Harry save for the Headmaster, and the old man would keep his mouth shut. After all, Dumbledore had a reputation for keeping vital information to himself.
"Lord Grindelwald. That's a rather interesting piece of information. Please, continue."
"Yes, well, the backlash against Grindelwald was enormous. Purebloods and Muggleborns alike united against this seemingly foreign invader, the mighty archmage Albus Dumbledore at the helm. Grindelwald clandestinely approached those with similar discontent towards the Ministry and their heavy-handed policies and bigotry. Many non-humans, the goblin clans included, saw Grindelwald as a beacon of hope, a champion sent from another world to free them from the corrupt and oppressive Ministry government. I was not yet chieftain then, and the then-chieftain appointed me as the general of the goblin forces pledged to Grindelwald's aid. Harry, I made a personal oath of loyalty to your great-grandfather those many years ago, and oath that I have never forgotten. Grindelwald also sought help from abroad, spending freely from the Evans family treasury in order to hire mercenary troops. As a matter of fact, an elite group of Shinn Kohaku assassins, magical assassins known within the Muggle world as "ninja," formed Grindelwald's personal guard."
Ninja...This tale just kept getting more and more complicated, Harry thought with a mixture of repressed annoyance and amazement.
"We fought with all that we had, but we never stood much of a chance. We won our share of battles but the united resistance of the frenzied wizards and witches, not to mention Dumbledore, who was then at the very peak of his power whereas Grindelwald was old and ailing, was too much for us to even hope to overcome. The war was lost in the course of a few short years. The night before Grindelwald's final battle with Dumbledore, the one that he knew then would cost him his life; your great-grandfather summoned me to his chambers, and told me the entirety of this story that I repeat to you now. He entreated me to hide his son within the muggle world, away from Dumbledore and the Ministry, and to wait for the day that a descendent of his line would rise up, a special child capable of wielding the dakaathi powers that Khariana had passed on to their son. This child would have the power to wield the legendary Demarr Devil Blade, the charisma to unite the loyal and righteous against the wizarding world's injustices, and the skill and intellect to use those people properly. It is my belief now that the time of his final wish has come. I have spent fifty long years poring over your great-grandfather's research, learning all that he had to share with our world, so that I would be prepared to advise and give my utmost for when the time came, for this day. You are that child, Harry. Khariana's ring has already recognized you as the chosen one. You are the one that must take up the sword and lead us to the victory that your great-grandfather perished in the pursuit of."
Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. By now, he was used to being held to impossible standards, to being expected to bear the entire world's burden. But this was absolutely preposterous. Grilthauk couldn't truly expect Harry to be equal to the legacy of a man that challenged a bloody fucking god and emerged victorious. He couldn't even properly curse Bellatrix a week before, couldn't even overcome a small group of incompetents led by a single reasonably skilled dark wizard. Harry was a bit flattered by the goblin's regard, but knew that it was impossible for him to be correct.
"No Grilthauk, you're mistaken. I'm not equal to Grindelwald's deeds, or his legacy. You'll have to wait a while longer."
"Harry, it is you who is mistaken. You have already thwarted the false Lord Voldemort, whose fascist ideals and terrorist methods are a blatant disgrace to those of his noble predecessor, the dark lord that had risen before him. You have already faced the persecution of the corrupt Ministry, and have already suffered loss at the hands of Albus Dumbledore's twisted machinations. You have been both a great hero and a wrongly reviled scapegoat. This is your destiny, Harry. You know in your heart that I speak the truth."
Destiny...Harry was getting tired of hearing that word. Voldemort, yes, he would give his utmost to destroy the serpent-faced bastard, he had decided that long ago. And the Ministry of Magic...Harry agreed that the institution was corrupt, and would perhaps be better done away with, but wasn't convinced that he was really capable of doing it any more than that he was willing to shoulder the burden of replacing it and governing a fickle and treacherous wizarding public. And then there was Dumbledore. Harry wasn't happy with the old man, but he didn't want to kill him either. A small part of Harry, smaller than he even realized, still wanted to simply prove a point by his escape from Privet Drive, and then go back to the way things were. To look to Dumbledore as a surrogate grandfather, to play Quidditch with the Weasleys, to be lectured by Hermione, to pine after Cho Chang, to simply tell this old goblin to stuff it and return to his old life.
But the rest of him knew that he couldn't do that, and that he didn't even want to. That resounding voice completely squelched the small remaining whisper of dissent within his heart. Harry now understood, when he placed Khariana's ring onto his finger, his previous life was burned to ashes and scattered off into the four winds upon wings of forest. Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, lived no longer. In his place stood Harry Alphonse Evans, slayer of countless men and lover of countless women. Scourge to all that would oppose him and the most feared and respected wizard to ever walk the earth. Indeed, deep in his heart, Harry knew Grilthauk's words to be true. His fate was to take up the burden of continuing Lord Grindelwald's legacy, and he would embrace it. He would take up the blade that his ancestor had stared down a fallen god to claim and use it to burn away the iniquities of the world that had so often betrayed him and wreak his own special brand of vengeance upon those who had wronged him. Should that entail facing down his closest friends or his surrogate family on the field of battle when the time came and spilling their blood, then Harry was completely ready and willing to do so. There was nothing more to ponder. The answer was as clear to him as the sun in the sky.
"I understand. Yes, I'll do it. I'll lead you into battle."
Grilthauk was all smiles.
"I knew you would, Harry. I knew from the very moment that I laid eyes upon you. Now, it is time for you to claim the last remaining part of your birthright, to remove the Demarr Devil Blade from its place of rest."
"Speaking of which, I don't see the thing anywhere. I would imagine that it'd be down here somewhere."
"No, Harry. The Demarr Devil Blade rests in a special place at the rear of Gringotts, sealed by some of the oldest and most powerful magic in existence. At that place, your great-grandfather's most loyal retainers, his personal guard, along with their descendants, protect the legendary brand. They, like I, have long awaited your ascendancy. Just as I pledge now that the full might of the unified clans will be behind you in your glorious struggle, they too shall serve, as they did during Lord Grindelwald's time. Let's lose no time, Harry. We must return to the main lobby of Gringotts and take another passageway from there."
Harry followed, feeling slightly excited about the possibility of meeting Grindelwald's personal guard, and apprehensive about the upcoming task. He could only hope that the Demarr Devil Blade would find him worthy, as Khariana's ring had.
(End Chapter Three)
Author's Note: There you have it. Third chapter finished. I didn't intend for this to be quite as long as it ended up, but I just got into my element during Grilthauk's story, and everything flowed perfectly. Also, we now understand the source of Grilthauk's odd knowledge. I hope you all like the Evans vault. I may be using it as one of Harry's main fortresses later on. He hasn't yet explored the entire complex, so if anybody has some good ideas about other things to place in there, let me know. Before people complain that I'm needlessly portraying Dumbledore as evil, please try to keep in mind whose point-of-view the tale was coming from. Dumbledore will not be evil. I'm thankful for all the reviews. Honestly, I'm flattered.