Disclaimer is in chapter 1.
The trip down to the vaults took shockingly little time and left Xander whooping in excitement from the ride.
"Man! Disney has nothing on that!" He grinned, slapping Harry's shoulder as they jumped off the cart. "Awesome."
"I know, I love this place." Harry admitted with a grin, "I could visit every day if it weren't for being stuck at the Dursleys."
Xander nodded, "Tell me about it. Hoo man, that was cool."
The Goblin who had been their guide watched them bemusedly for a moment before interjecting, "Your family vault is here. Please remember, you may not take any money from this vault. Family artifacts, such as books, pictures, and the like are acceptable however."
"Thank you, Griphook." Harry said, stepping closer to the vault. "Same as last time?"
The Goblin nodded, "Yes, indeed."
Harry nodded and reached out to the vault, feeling the tingle he now knew to be magic touching him in turn. With his key in hand the vault magic recognized him and the doors obligingly snapped as the locks popped, and then swung slowly open on huge wrought iron hinges. Harry swallowed as the size of the new vault was revealed.
"It's huge."
"Merely a mid-sized vault, Mr. Potter." Griphook offered from behind him, "Suitable to your family needs, but there are larger ones."
"Amazing." Harry said with an awed smile.
He slowly stepped in, looking around, then happened to glance back. "Do you want to come in, Xander?"
"Only if it's ok with you, man." Xander said, looking around from where he stood. "This is a big thing for you."
"Yeah, it is." Harry nodded, "But please, come on in. I'm glad I've got... a friend here."
Xander nodded and stepped in. To be honest he wasn't sure when he had started thinking of Harry as a friend, instead of as Hermione's friend, but it had begun sometime between their time in the Chamber of Secrets and this moment. Like Robert had told him, bleeding on the same ground as someone, it had a way of forging bonds.
Inside the vault was packed to the proverbial rafters with everything and anything Xander could imagine. He looked around quizzically, "What is all this?"
"According to the ledger," Griphook offered from where he was standing by the door, "The last deposit here was made by Albus Dumbledore shortly after Mr. Potter's parents were killed. I would imagine that these are the items that remained in their home after the attack."
Harry paused by a box of plush toys, including a familiar golden ball with two floppy wings. He laughed, tossing it up in the air, "Born to be a seeker."
"If you say so, mate." Xander chuckled, shaking his head as he checked out some of the stuff. There wasn't much of interest to him, but then of course it wasn't his family. The Potter coat of arms was on some of it, and also on a large plaque on the wall.
"In Munis, Decus." He said, reading the first line. "In Duty... Glory? Honor?"
"What's that?" Harry asked, looking over.
"Potter Coat of Arms," Xander said, "Three lines in Latin. In Munis, Decus. In Decus, Vitae. In Vitae, Gaudi."
"My latin is pretty rough," Harry said, embarrassed. "Kinda stupid, huh? What with all the spells we have to learn."
"Most spells are latin-ish sounding," Xander shrugged, "but if you want to read the old books in here, you'd better learn."
"Do you know what it means?"
Xander frowned, puzzling it out, "In Duty, Honor. In Honor, Life. And in Life, Joy."
Harry looked puzzled, "Sounds nice, I think."
"Daphne told me that Potters were a service family," Xander said.
"We're servants?" Harry looked somewhat caught between disappointment and curiosity. He'd spent his life as the indentured servant of the Dursleys, more of the same wasn't what he wanted in a family legacy.
"In a manner of speaking," Xander said, "A Service family is a family with a tradition of service."
Xander smirked at the dark look Harry shot him, "Sorry. I mean a family of cops, or soldiers, or in your case Knights and Aurors."
"Oh." Harry blinked. That didn't sound so bad. Then he blinked as Xander's words caught up to him, "Daphne told you about my family? Greengrass?"
"Yeah, she knows a lot about you inbred... ahem, sorry, pureblood folk." Xander grinned.
"Watch it, you. Even I know enough about America to make redneck jokes," Harry smirked back.
Xander laughed, but nodded, "Fair enough. Anyway, yeah, it looks like she was right. A motto like that is the sort of thing you see in families that take service seriously."
Harry nodded, thinking about how his family would have acquired a motto like that as he looked at the coat of arms. It was an image of silver armor flanked by flowing red, with a golden hippocampus astride it. An unusual combination, he thought, but then what did he know, really? His fingers brushed it as he memorized the design, trying to connect to it and to his lost family.
"Got some books over here," Xander said, "Looks pretty new, though. Nothing about the Mage Knight business."
Harry shook himself and looked over, "Ok, thanks."
He was moving to check out a large wardrobe when Xander let out a loud whistle.
"What?" He asked, turning around.
"Looks like we don't have to get you a blank journal, dude." Xander said, holding up a leather bound book. "One original edition of the Coven Grimoire, right here."
Harry moved over quickly, taking the book with a reverence. "My mum wrote this?"
"She helped." Xander said softly. "She left an imprint in it too, I mean... it's not like actually talking to her or anything, but..."
Harry nodded, swallowing hard. "I understand."
He clutched the book to him as they searched the rest of the vault as quickly as they could, but came up empty on any books much older than fifty years ago. Certainly there was nothing present on the Mage Knight.
Harry sighed, "I guess we should go."
Xander nodded, "Alright."
The two headed out, walking past Griphook who silently watched them before he closed and sealed the vault. The ride up was slower, the two teens silent as they considered their respective pasts and futures. Harry clutched the grimoire to his chest the whole way.
Some quick shopping was furtively done in the Alley, then Xander rode the bus with Harry to the Surrey Stop where Harry got off, then Xander continued on until it reached Garth Calyn in Wales, where the Malfoy Manor was located.
Narcissa was alone in the house when he got back, and she just looked up curiously when he sat down. "Did things go well?"
"Yeah." Xander nodded.
And they had, he decided. It had been an emotional day, even for him as a bystander, but he thought that things had gone pretty well.
"Good." Narcissa replied, "We'll be going to Paris in the morning."
Xander nodded, remembering that. "Dress robes, right?"
"Correct."
"Will Mr. Malfoy be joining us?" Xander asked. He didn't exactly dislike the man, but his presence made him uncomfortable.
"No. Clothes shopping for others is beneath my husband," Narcissa smiled slightly, "For himself, well that's another story."
Xander rolled his eyes, thinking of the fancy robes Lucius Malfoy preferred. If the guy didn't have a wife and son, Xander figured he could make so many jokes about it.
He glanced up, a thought striking him, "You know. Harry's going to need dress robes too."
"Of course, I expect that Dumbledore will..." She paused, looking at him askance, "Are you serious?"
"No, he's in Sunnydale," Xander smirked.
Narcissa rolled her eyes and shot him a dark look, "Do NOT begin with those infernal jokes. We had to beat them out of Sirius, don't make me do the same to you."
Xander grimaced, "No serious jokes, got it."
"Now, you cannot be seriously considering inviting Harry Potter to leave the country with my Son." Narcissa shook her head, "I'm hardly interested in losing a son, or being thrown in Azkaban for the death of the Boy Who Lived."
"They're not that bad," Xander laughed, "But you're probably right. It was just an idea."
Narcissa nodded, then sighed, "And not a bad one I suppose. Mr. Potter will require decent robes as Regent Black, not whatever they pull off the rack for him. Do you believe he would trust me?"
Xander hesitated. Would Harry trust her? He didn't know, and all he could do was shrug and say as much.
"We can ask, though." He added after a moment.
Narcissa nodded, considering.
"Very well, contact him if you would." She instructed. "If he is interested, we leave early. It will be a long day."
"Alright." Xander said, getting out his Spell Phone.
"We have not seen this title in a very long time."
"No, your Majesty. The last recorded Mage Knight was Charlus Potter, he was Knighted by your Grandfather..."
"Yes, we do recall." The older woman said softly, remembering when her father had introduced her to the man he called the realm's Mage Knight.
"Uh... Yes, Ma'am." The archivist was confused, since the man in question had been knighted before she was born, but let it go.
"That will be all, thank you John."
"Yes Ma'am." He bowed his head and carefully turned to leave.
The Queen ignored him after acknowledging his exit, her eyes distant as she thought about things that had long been beyond her purview.
"Well, young Mr. Potter," She said as she looked at the file photo that showed a particularly scrawny child digging in flower beds outside a common little suburban home. "Are you your family's son then?"
"We shall see."
Harry sat in his small room, ignoring the sounds of the TV from below him. Xander's recent call and invitation was, well he wasn't sure what it was. Leave the country with Draco?
Harry liked Xander, and sort of trusted him, but that was really pushing it. Still, Xander had made it clear that it was entirely optional and really didn't have any bearing on anything else, it was just a chance to get some robes from a good tailor.
Kinda weird, Harry thought. Wasn't Madam Malkin's good enough?
He'd told Xander he needed a little while to think about it. Now he was just staring at two objects on his makeshift writing desk.
One was Xander's 'spell phone', a stupidly (yet unfortunately catchy) named device that worked like muggle cell phones apparently. Of course you needed to be a Runes master to use one of the stupid things. It had taken Harry dozens of tries to get the dials right when he wanted to call Hermione or Sirius, frankly it was getting to be embarrassing. He was just glad no one was around to watch him fumble with the stupid thing.
Maybe he could get Xander to put in some kind of speed dial?
Harry frowned curiously, then pulled out one of his charms books. It took a few minutes of flipping through it, but he found what he was looking for. A memory charm would help, he thought, especially if he could figure out how to link it to something.
He found what he was looking for and hesitated a moment before taking out his wand. Time to put Mrs. Malfoy's word to the test, he supposed. He flicked his wand carefully according to the notes on the charm, adding his own twist to the incantation.
"Memorius Hermione." he said softly.
The Spell Phone glowed for a moment, then everything went back to normal. Harry picked it up and checked it all out carefully, then shrugged. One way to know, he decided as he scrambled the dials randomly.
"Hermione." He said into the open phone, smiling in glee as the dials spun wildly around and stopped on Hermione's combination. He tagged the center button and waited.
After a moment a familiar voice came through the speakers, "Yes?"
"Hey Hermione, it's just me. I was playing with the Spell phone and wanted to make sure I hadn't broken it." Harry said, feeling pretty happy with himself.
"What? Harry James Potter!" Hermione growled, "Don't you dare break Xander's gift!"
"I didn't, I just wanted to see if I could get a memory spell to work on it." Harry defended himself, "It does. Now I have a speed dial to your number."
"Really?" Hermione instantly shifted to curious, "Which spell?"
"Memorius." Harry said, "I had to combine it with a command word charm, though. The only problem is I don't think we can put more than one of these on at a time, so it's not really useful."
"Don't worry about that," Hermione said, "Just write down what you're doing, so that we can try and improve it later. Honestly, Harry, how do you think Xander made these in the first place? He didn't come up with them in one shot, you know."
"Ok, ok," Harry chuckled, "Anyway I have to go. I want to read the Grimoire a bit before bed."
"Grim... Xander gave you his book!?"
"No, this one was Mum's copy. We found it in my parent's vault at Gringotts."
"Oh Harry... Ok, well have a good night." Hermione said after a pause. "Call me if you need to talk."
"Thanks." Harry said, feeling a bit at a loss for how to say goodbye, then he remembered Xander and finished with, "Potter out."
Hermione's shriek of outrage startled him so badly he dropped the phone where it snapped shut and cut off the sound. Harry stared at it, wide eyed and fearful.
"What was that about?" He blinked, then jumped again as the phone buzzed quietly. He reached for it, then thought twice. Whatever it was he was going to get yelled at if he answered it. After some thought Harry nudged it under his book bag with one foot and did his best to ignore the buzzing.
The Grimoire of the Coven was a more advanced piece of magic than its creators truly understood. Made, as it had been, but three brilliant but young witches, and altered by the work of a talented and powerful young wizard, it's magic had always been a little unpredictable even to the four who took part in its creation.
For someone like Harry, who had no knowledge of the book and its creation, it was a marvel to behold. He didn't, however, realize that what he was seeing as just a bit out of the ordinary. To him, it was just magic.
When he entered his name in the book the pages went blank, startling him for a moment.
Did I break it? Harry asked himself, panicking. This book was his only link to his mother, other than 'dear aunt petunia', and the thought of losing it sent a cold chill through his heart. He stared at the blank pages for long moments until they started to show text again.
Harry?
Harry stared, not knowing what he should do. Was it really talking to him?
Harry, is that really you?
He lifted his quill, his hand shaking as it touched the nib to parchment.
W- who are you? Is this Mrs. Malfoy?
There was a long pause, then the text began to flow again in an elegant cursive.
No, Harry. This is your mother. I am... I was, Lilly Evans Potter.
Harry stared at the book for a long moment, frozen in shock. He shook his head. It couldn't be, the last book he'd seen like this was...
Harry? Are you still there?
Harry started, finally moving, and threw the book across the room as he kicked back from the chair and fell to the floor.
"Boy! Cut out that noise!" His Uncle thundered from down the hall.
Harry ignored him, but didn't make any more noise as he huddled in the corner of the room and stared at the book across from him. Tom Riddle's diary had talked just like that, was it something commonly used in the Magical World? He'd been under the impression that Riddle's diary was dark magic.
Did his Mum do the same?
Harry didn't know what to think. He only knew one thing for sure, and that was that he had to find out. And there was only one way to do that.
His hands were shaking when he picked up the spell phone and he almost couldn't remember the pattern for Xander's phone, but he finally got it entered and hit the talk button.
"Xander?" He said into the device when the voice came back. "I'm in. I'll be ready to go in the morning."
Across the world from where Harry was wrestling with worries over his family and newly minted friends, Sirius Black was wrestling with a problem of a different sort.
"Stupid wrench!" He muttered, barking his knuckles as the offending tool slipped again. "Ow!"
"You're using a standard wrench on a metric nut, Black. Here," Simon Brentsmith said, tossing another wrench over to him.
Simon was one of the four men hired by Mrs. Harris to run the Junkyard Alexander had bought. Sirius caught the wrench and nodded his thanks, then turned back to the shovelhead engine he was working on.
He wished he had his old triumph, or at least a similar model to work on but he'd been told that finding parts for something like that would be tough in California, not to mention expensive. He'd settled for an old Harley frame that had been rusting in the junkyard, set it good as new with a quick reparation charm and some careful transfiguration.
Rust to steel was pretty easy, and simple enough to make permanent as well, so in a few minutes he had a showroom perfect frame to start with. When the four squibs working there had seen how quickly and easily that had been done, they'd spent little time offering him anything he wanted in the yard if he could fix up some old parts for them on the side.
He didn't need the deal, really, but it gave him something to do while waiting for news from England and Harry, and also a reason to hang around Sunnydale.
Who would have thought he'd have taken a liking to a place like the Hellmouth?
Alexander's friend, Willow, reminded him a lot of Lilly back in their early years. All about the rules and the books, scared to death of the world but too damned stubborn to admit it even to herself. Sirius hated to admit it, but he'd taken a liking to the girl, and one some level it felt more natural to deal with her than people his own age.
Partly, he suspected, that was due to having basically lost so many years to Azkaban and it's Dementors. Of course, there was also the fact that the was Padfoot, the Marauder. Growing up was never in his playbook.
So he fixed old parts for the junkyard, helping them widen their profit margins, and occasionally taught a young witch about magic while working on a bike to replace his triumph.
I wonder what happened to that old lovely, anyway? He wondered as he worked. He hoped Hagrid had taken care of it, but realistically he supposed it was more likely a rusted out pile of bolts by now.
The Harley he was working on would be a reasonable replacement, though. Charming an old combustion engine to work on magic was simple enough. The cylinders were designed to contain and harness an explosion, which was simple enough to replicate with some runes and charms. One rune for fire in each of the cylinders, powered by an area absorption charm. It would take a while to charge up in most places, but here the magic was almost as pervasive as Hogwarts.
After that it was just a matter of deciding how to make the flight systems work, since just about everything else followed logically from the muggle design.
Flight, of course, was a different story. Sirius had two basic options for that. First, he could go with the supercharged broomstick charms he had used originally when making his old Triumph. They were a little sluggish compared to racing brooms, but responded practically to the thoughts and desires of the rider. Marvelous bits of magical design, Sirius had always thought.
The second option was one he and James had toyed with in their later years, just before Harry had been born. It was a matter of charming the tires on the bike to 'conjure' their own road surface underneath themselves as they drove. The advantage here was that the bike could be made the accelerate much faster than either it's muggle counterpart or even the fastest broomstick, and the top end was really quite high.
Maneuverability, however, would suffer as the driver would have to physically manhandle the vehicle around in order to get it going where he wanted it to. Not as useful for city driving, but the ability to hit several hundred miles an hour in the open sky was tempting.
He was going to leave it until last, however, as he still had some work to do before it was ready to take any sort of charms.
While Sirius worked, he was unaware that he had acquired a couple watchers in the distance.
"The Lord Black, reduced to being a Greasemonkey."
"Don't be a child, Amelia. He does that because he chooses to, he enjoys it," The Lady Lavelle said sternly. "And that attitude will get you nothing."
"I am not particularly fond of the Family's desire in this matter, Aunt." The attractive blond said, sniffing disdainfully at the air of the old junkyard.
"Do you wish to turn it down? I can locate another..."
"No." Amelia said, closing her eyes, "No, I will do it. I just am not fond of this. Why can't he act like a proper man of his station."
"Other than the thirteen years in wizarding prison, you mean?"
"Yes. Other than that."
The Lady Lavelle shook her head slightly, wondering again if this was the right choice. She probably should have pushed a little harder for a more reasonable selection to be presented, but Amelia was one of the more promising of the Lavelle daughter's yet single and in the appropriate age.
"Just remember, if you fail, do not mention the family." The Matriarch ordered sternly. "Else I will make you regret it."
"Fail?" Amelia sniffed, amused. "He's a man, isn't he? I hardly think that will be likely."
The Lady Lavelle just sighed as her niece moved away, obviously setting her plans in her mind already.