Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of the canon characters, places, spells, or anything else. All I own is this plot.
~
Chapter One: Heir
Harry loved the quiet. He revelled in the lack of noise, a comforting dark room, no movement, no disturbances, no Charlus.
Just, quiet.
That's why he hated today.
It was another birthday, their eleventh, and another year he was forgotten. The process had been slow, he remembered it all, oddly enough. First, they had just been distracted, but equally doting and loving, but they'd began to forget about him. They'd remember, of course, eventually. But then the remembering stopped. He was left for days without food, or alone in the house when they went out.
The House Elves at Potter Manor, where they had moved after that fateful night, would always end up bringing him extra food and blankets, books from the library, whatever he needed to enjoy his solitary time.
Then the punishments started. He was accused of attention seeking, of stealing from his brother, of taking credit for magic not performed by him. The House Elves couldn't step in that time, and they were forbidden from healing him or helping him with his injuries. The punishments started out small, being sent to bed without dinner, a few minutes in the naughty corner, but soon escalated, a hit over the head when nobody was looking, a smack to the bum, but went even further as he got older, hits that broke bones and left cuts and bruises unexplained.
But the worst was when they'd lock him in the cellar. It was horrible down there, the quiet darkness he loved was oppressive and dangerous. He never came out of the cellar without numerous injuries that he could never explain and a strange bout of memory loss.
It would be a shock to those that knew the Potters to see their older son, nursing a broken cheekbone and ankle, with some bruises and cuts from another night in the cellar, at least without their easy explanation of a clumsy game of Quidditch. He sat to side in the shadows of the house as Charlus interacted with his friends, the unable to keep from grinning down at the leather tome, his single present, despite the pain in his cheek. His parents had forgotten him, again, hell he hadn't even gotten a card from them, but Remus and Sirius never forgot him, for that much he was glad.
"Harry!" Charlus grinned, stopping in front of his brother. "You wanna come to play Quidditch with us?" He asked cheerfully. Another thing Harry could never hate, how Charlie still tried to include him.
"No thanks, Charlie. You know how bad I am on a broom," He excused easily, spotting the dark glare from his father, the first time the man had even acknowledged him today.
"You're no fun," Charlie claimed, poking his brother. "Cheer up, we'll be getting our Hogwarts letters today!"
Will we? Harry couldn't help but wonder. Or was their father right, and Harry really was just a squib?
Charlie raced off to play Quidditch with the his friends, the Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Cedric Diggory. Oliver, Alicia, Angelina, and Cedric were already in Hogwarts, and on their respective Quidditch teams, as were some of the Weasleys.
While everybody watched the group form into teams of five each, Ginny Weasley also not playing as her parents wouldn't let her, Harry hung back in his little corner, happily beginning his hook.
The Art of Darkness, by Morgan Le Fay. The book would have been impossibly hard to come across, a first edition seemingly wrote in the witch's own hand, and more expensive than Harry's own life. Considering, however, Sirius and Remus' gift to Charlus was a broom and tickets following the Quidditch World Cup through the semis and final, Harry guessed it was even.
James and Lily hated anything dark with a passion, extending to their own son once it was revealed his core was leaning towards the dark, but Harry couldn't change his magic. He knew he'd have to hide the book, but the acceptance from Sirius and Remus, fully shown by the book, was the best birthday present he ever could have received.
~
Mr Harry Potter
Smallest Bedroom
Potter Manor
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr H. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
Harry couldn't believe it as he read through the letter, thumb touching the wax seal with the Hogwarts crest on it with a sense of disbelief. He had been accepted! He had been accepted.
He wasn't a squib.
It was a relief to just read the words on the pages that had been delivered by a smart looking owl to his room. The owl was still waiting for him to write a response, which he hurriedly did, picking out a self-inking quill and some better quality parchment.
Dear Professor McGonagall,
I'm delighted to inform you I will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry come September and thank you deeply for your acceptance.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Potter
First Year Student
The letter felt so perfect in his hand that before the thought of informing his parents crossed his mind he had already attached it to the leg of the owl and sent him off with an owl treat provided by the House Elves.
Hogwarts letter in hand, he went downstairs, a grin on his face.
"So you're not a squib." James Potter sneered at his oldest, dark son. He hated that the dark creature dared to look like him, now he was going to Hogwarts too? He was a danger to the children there, but he couldn't refuse Albus' order. Albus wanted to keep Harry away from the dark, perhaps with him at Hogwarts under constant supervision, that would be easier.
"No, sir," Harry responded softly, grip tightening on his letter, keeping his eyes downcast to stop him from glaring at his father.
"Too bad," James said coldly. He reached to snatch the letter, shocked at how his son pulled the letter out of his reach and looked up at his father, acid green eyes burning into his soul.
Feeling somewhat shaken by that look in his son's eyes, he wandlessly summoned the letter to his hand glancing over it. Harry silently thanked every god he could think of that his first initial was included so his father couldn't claim he had stolen from Charlie again.
Until James looked him in the eyes, gripping the pages, and ripped them in two.
Harry felt tears welling up in the back of his eyes but blinked them away quickly, even as James continued speaking.
"We will be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. You can do your own shopping." He said, a dark look in his eyes that scared even Harry then. He would be alone in Diagon, he knew that. Sirius and Remus were busy, he couldn't ask them to take him.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He just had to remember the books and equipment, and he was sure there would be a lot of first years, so it'd be easy, right? He would just get what everybody else was getting, and hopefully, he'd be alright.
Hopefully.
~
Diagon Alley was beautiful. Once James, Lily, and Charlie had apparated off, forgetting his existence, as usual, Harry found the Floo. It wasn't too hard, he grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, stepped into the green flame, and said as clearly as he could "Diagon Alley."
He tried not to tense too much through the uncomfortable squeezing, tugging feeling, knowing he'd fall if he did, and waited a few seconds before stepping out of the fireplace and into the Leaky Cauldron.
He looked around in shock, eyes darting from magical person to magical person, how interesting they all looked, not like his Muggle clothes and scars he wished he could hide. He didn't know what to do now though, through the years he had been to Diagon with his family, of course, but they'd always apparated with Harry and Charlie. Now he didn't know what to do, where to go.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw an equally uncomfortable family being lead by the barkeep - Tom, he believed Tom to be his name - through a door, and quickly followed, watching in awe as Tom tapped the bricks with his wand in a pattern to make the bricks come away, revealing the magic of Diagon Alley.
Harry couldn't help but gape in wonder, as he did every time he went there, and quickly tagged along with the family, relieved his expression fitted in with them.
His amazement wore off quicker and he slipped past them and into the crowd, heading for the white building at the end of the street. Gringotts, the best bank in the world. Since it had branches pretty much everywhere, it was practically the only wizarding bank, excluding in America. Americans, too stubborn to use British banking.
And too prejudiced but under the guise of freedom to use goblins the way they were in Gringotts.
But, moving away from politics, Gringotts was still an amazing bank, if only more people knew how to treat the goblins correctly.
Harry managed to make it to the bank without any further injuries and walked in with as much grace as he could summon up, though it wasn't all that much. As usual, all the goblins looked up to watch him intently, making Harry feel much smaller than he already was as he approached the head goblin on the floor.
"I would like to withdraw from my vault, please, Esteemed Sir." He said in the strongest voice he could manage, trying to keep out the shake from the nerves he felt as all the goblins continued to watch him, many raising the equivalent of an eyebrow in surprise as his polite address.
"Name?" The Goblin asked.
"Harry Potter," There was a definite shake to his voice this time.
"And does Mr Harry Potter have his key?" The Goblin asked, leaning over the desk some to watch him.
"No, I don't." He replied with shame in his voice. It wasn't his fault, James always kept his key and never let him have it.
"This is most irregular, Mr Harry Potter." The Goblin said, though there was an odd inflexion to his voice that Harry couldn't quite place.
"I'm sorry, Esteemed Sir." Harry half whispered, unable to stop himself.
The goblin again looked shocked but called back into the bank in Gobbledegook, before turning back to Harry.
"We will perform a test to see which vaults you are entitled to an issue you with a new key, which you shall keep as your own. Would you like us to cancel your old key, so it cannot be used?" The Goblin asked, watching Harry's eyes widen in shock.
"Yes, please." He said, perhaps too much of a hint of desperation in his voice.
"Stand to the side. One of our human workers will collect you." The Goblin said calmly, stamping some papers and handing them to Harry, who tried to look over them, only to find the seeming chicken scratch unintelligible to him. Perhaps it was written in Gobbledegook.
It wasn't too long a wait, though the eyes of the Goblin tellers and the human customers was very unnerving. Harry flinched when a hand came down on his shoulder, and turned around quickly, relaxing only slightly when he came face to face with a worried Bill Weasley.
The man has his usual long ginger hair tied back in a neat plait down his back and his fang tooth earing on display but otherwise looked very little like the Bill Weasley he'd met in the past. Rather than his ripped and studded outfit, he wore a set of black and gold work robes, done up neatly, with a set of shined black shoes.
"Harry?" Bill sounded shocked and quite worried. "Where's James and Lily? And Charlie? Aren't they here with you?" He asked.
"They didn't have enough money for both of our school supplies on them so they sent me here to collect the money for my own. I'm meeting them afterwards." He lied quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, by the unconvinced look on Bill Weasley's face.
"Come on then, don't want to make you late for your meeting," Bill said, putting on a more friendly smile and taking Harry's too-small hand to lead him into the offices of the bank.
When he began to think about it, it really was quite odd. The Potters had come in earlier without their older son to retrieve the money and secure that Charlus was their heir and not Harry, which was quite odd, for the younger twin to be claimed, heir. In the case of twins, they were often both pronounced heir, if the oldest wasn't, and shared the Lordship until one decided to drop out, which they couldn't do until they were seventeen anyway.
The more he thought, the more worried he got, about the unexplained bruises, the cuts, the broken bones always explained as Quidditch accidents, but Harry didn't fly.
Perhaps he ought to tell Dumbledore, yes that's what he'd do.
"Here's Gornuk's office. He'll be carrying out the Inheritance Test, the one to tell you the vaults you're entitled to." Bill explained, watching Harry nod with a slight frown.
"What do I have to do for it?" He asked.
"Nothing too much," Bill was quick to assure, trying to remember the process. "There's a potion that's used. The goblins will collect seven drops of blood from you and put it in the potion. They'll then drop some of the potion onto a piece of parchment or a quill, I don't remember which, and the vaults will appear on the parchment or the quill will write them out." He said, frowning slightly as he tried to recall which was used. He needed to know that anyway, for his Curse Breaker exam coming up if he ever wanted to get that job.
Harry nodded and the two stood to wait until a green symbol flashed above the door and Bill knocked. The door opened on its own and Bill nodded for Harry to go in, muttering that he'd be outside when he was done.
The Goblin's office was neat, clean, and very impersonal, a plain desk, a cauldron near it, a fireplace for the Floo with several trinkets on the desk being the only personalisation.
"Mr Harry Potter?" The Goblin questioned, waiting for Harry's nod before continuing. "I am Gornuk, I shall be administering your test. Please come here."
Harry did as asked hesitantly, coming clearer into the light, watching the Goblin's eyes widen before he picked up a dagger, holding it out towards Harry.
"You have the Mark of Morgana." Gornuk said with a slight frown, "It will be interesting to see if you are entitled to her vaults."
Harry didn't quite know what the goblin meant, or why that would be interesting, just taking the dagger and following to the cauldron.
"Seven drops of blood, Mr Potter, best from the back of your arm," Gornuk told him calmly, aware too many wizards cut their palm, stupid oafs.
Harry silently obeyed, cutting the back of his arm without flinching and carefully squeezing the small injury to get exactly seven drops of blood.
Gornuk began to stir the potion eagerly, only pausing briefly to point him to a chair in front of his desk. "Sit. There are plasters on the desk." He clarified. Wounds from magical daggers didn't heal by magic but healed the muggle way.
Harry did as told, carefully selecting the right sized plaster and putting it on quietly as the goblin came back over with a vial of black potion.
A few drops were dropped onto a piece of oddly coloured parchment and Harry watched in wonder as words appeared.
Name: Harry James Potter
Blood Status: Pureblood
Father: James Charlus Potter
Mother: Lily Jane Potter (née Evans)
Siblings: Charlus Fleamont Potter
Godfather: Sirius Orion Black
Godmother: Alice May Longbottom (née Macmillan)
Main Titles: Heir Apparent Slytherin (Birthright, unclaimed), Heir Apparent Le Fay (magical right, unclaimed), Prince Avalon (magical right, unclaimed, Heir Presumptive Black (via godparent bond, claimed)
Secondary Titles: Second Heir Potter (birthright, claimed), Heir Presumptive Peverell (birthright, claimed), Heir Proposed Malfoy (via godparent bond, unclaimed), Heir Presumptive Gaunt (birthright, unclaimed), Second Heir Longbottom (via godparent bond, unclaimed)
Tertiary Titles: Heir Appeased Sayre (birthright, unclaimed), Heir Presumptive Fleamont (birthright, unclaimed), Heir Appeased Lestrange (via godparent bond, unclaimed)
Vaults:
Trust Vaults:
Slytherin (Unclaimed)
Le Fay (Unclaimed)
Avalon (Unclaimed)
Black (Claimed)
Potter (Claimed)
Peverell (Unclaimed)
Gaunt (Unclaimed)
Longbottom (Unclaimed)
Fleamont (Unclaimed)
Main Vaults:
Slytherin (Unclaimed, locked)
Le Fay (Unclaimed)
Avalon (Unclaimed)
Black (Claimed, locked)
Potter (Claimed, locked)
Peverell (Unclaimed)
Gaunt (Unclaimed)
Fleamont (Unclaimed, locked)
Malfoy (Claimed, locked)
Sayre (Unclaimed, locked)
Lestrange (Claimed, seized)
What the fuck?
Gornuk looked positively thrilled as he read through the page of writing, looking up at Harry every now and then.
"Mr Potter, you have many vaults to visit. Would you like to claim some of your Titles?" Gornuk asked with some vicious glee evident in his voice.
Harry just stared at the parchment. Slytherin. He was the Heir Apparent of the Ancient House of Slytherin. And Le Fay. He was Prince of Avalon, whatever that was. He was Heir Presumptive, whatever that meant, to many families and some houses. He had Heir Proposed and Appeased titles.
What the fuck?
He looked back at Gornuk, eyes wide and filled with trepidation.
"How about we start with your Main Titles, those are the most powerful. Black you have claimed, so Slytherin, Le Fay, and Avalon will open up the most amounts the quickest. Shall we, Mr Potter?"
Harry could only nod.
"Come, we will dismiss the Weasley. Keep that parchment, child, don't leave it there!" The goblin snapped at him as he stood. Harry flinched, shocked back to himself, and quickly picked up and rolled up the parchment for safety, relieved when Gornuk gave him an approving nod.
Gornuk walked out of the room, Harry on his heels.
"Weasley dismissed. Report to Ragnok. Tell him Fidei Auallonia." The order came in English, and Bill started as he saw Harry behind the goblin and the vicious grin the goblin wore.
"But - Harry -" Bill stuttered, shocked. He had never heard of a goblin as high as Gornuk personally escorting a wizard before.
"Dismissed!" The Goblin repeated with a sneer. Bill, shooting a last worried look at Harry, hurried off obediently. He really needed this job, he wasn't going to damage himself.
Harry looked at Gornuk, unable to mask his fear.
"Have no worries, Mr Potter, we have been waiting many years for your arrival. Ragnok will want to know of your presence so he may introduce himself." He explained.
"Me? You've been waiting for, me?" Harry spluttered. This was a first. People usually wanted to only meet Charlie, never him.
"Yes, Mr Potter." Gornuk smiled - at least Harry thought it was a smile - at him patiently. "You have questions. Ask them, we will go find your vaults and claim your titles."
"How do I have all these titles? James doesn't, Charlie doesn't, so why do I?" Was the first question that sprung to Harry's mind.
"Titles are fickle, they skip generations and go to those who are best for the title. Slytherin is yours by birthright, you would have been born with one of Slytherin's magical abilities that meant you were given the title. Le Fay and Avalon go together, both claimed by Magical Right. Since Morgan Le Fay's line died out, she bound her fortune, properties, and family to the one who next displayed the necessary magic." He said calmly. "Your scar, Lady Le Fay had one just like it, though few understand the significance. She was a practitioner of the Old Majyks, they blessed her with their mark when protecting her from a great danger. They believe it protected her from Death until she accepted it."
Well, that wasn't a lot to process at all, Harry thought sarcastically.
"She ruled Avalon, the Isle of the Lost, the birthplace of magic. She was fair and kind and respected magical creatures. She ruled them, after all, and protected them equally." Gornuk continued, sounding almost wistful. "But she killed by her half-brother, King Arthur, for being a witch, when she ventured back to England. Legend has it she accepted her death as she couldn't bring herself to harm her brother and she wanted peace for the creatures of Avalon."
More to process, great.
"So I'm her Heir because...?"
"Because you have the Old Majyk running through your veins, protecting you, it proclaims its protection of you clear as day with the Mark of Morgana on your face," Gornuk said passionately. "Come, next question?"
"What does Heir Presumptive mean? And Heir Proposed and Appeased?" He asked. He already knew Heir Apparent meant he was the first heir and he couldn't be booted out of the position.
"Heir Presumptive means you are the first heir unless somebody more fit for the position comes along. Heir Proposed is the third Heir. Heir Apparent is fourth. Next along would be Heir Motone."
"Alright." Harry had to admit that made sense. It was only the old families that had used those titles in any case.
"That is enough questions for now. You can ask more when you come to claim other titles and vaults." Gornuk informed him.
Harry agreed quietly, and they were loaded onto a cart to go visit the vaults.