Summary: Harry Potter is just an eccentric school boy with some unusual talents. Lord Peverell-Black, on the other hand, is a magically and politically powerful man with the world at his fingertips and a war at his doorstep. [Time travel, no pairings.]
Shards of Time: The Master of Death
Chapter III
The Vaults
"Death is nothing to us, since when we are, death has not come, and when death has come, we are not." – Epicurus, "Letter to Menoeceus"
The ride in the cart down to the vaults was just as insanely fast as it had always been. The goblin who had helped Harry was taking him down to the vaults himself, something about him being an "old client" and "security clearance"—everything else the goblin said was little more than a muttered blur.
After a couple of minutes, the cart stopped. "First stop," the goblin announced as the cart slowed. Harry instantly recognized the vault they were outside of: it was his trust vault.
The goblin took one of Harry's keys and unlocked the door. Instantly, green smoke began to billow out. Once it had cleared, Harry was treated to the familiar view of the money that his parents had left him for school. He stepped inside and quickly scooped up a good amount of coins into a small leather pouch; he only needed enough for his school supplies right now.
Once that was done, he and the goblin got back into the cart again. The goblin turned to him with an expectant look on his face.
"Where to next, Mr. Potter?"
"Hmm," Harry paused in thought. "The main Potter family vault." He hadn't seen it yet, even when he was older—there just hadn't been time, or really a need, especially since he and his friends had been wanted by the government.
The goblin nodded in acquiescence. "Next stop, vault 419."
And with that the cart was off again, racing at speeds that made Harry's eyes sting when he tried to keep them open. The trip down to the vault took quite a while longer than it took to get to Harry's trust vault—nearly twice as long, in fact. Along the way they passed through the Thief's Downfall which, to Harry's immense relief, they passed without any problems. Unlike the last time Harry had gone through, it was not a painful experience, but rather felt as though he was only passing through mist.
By the time that they reached the vault, Harry was no longer sure just how deep they were underground, though he believed that they weren't quite as deep as Bellatrix's vault. Similarly to Bellatrix's vault, however, the area outside of the vault consisted on a small platform, which led into a large cavern containing a dragon.
This dragon was a fair bit smaller than the one guarding Bellatrix's vault, though it still looked quite menacing. It was covered in deep crimson scales, with a golden underbelly. How...Gryffindor, Harry couldn't help but think with an amused grin. It'd been said that Potter's had always been in Gryffindor house and now, seeing the red and gold dragon guarding their family vault, Harry was starting to think that that rumor had had a fair bit of credence. This dragon didn't appear to be quite as blind as the other one that Harry had seen, but it too had numerous scars on its face from where it'd been hit and was chained down by heavy cuffs.
As they entered the cavern, the goblin pulled out a pair of Clankers—the small instruments that the dragons had learned to associate with pain—from a bag that he'd brought with him. Holding one in each hand the goblin began to shake them, causing a sound similar to that of hammers on anvils to echo through the area. Instantly, the dragon retreated away into a corner.
The goblin put the Clankers away and then stretched a hand to the large wooden door in front of them. Almost as soon as he pressed his palm to the wood, the door appeared to melt away, revealing a large, cave-like opening that was just a little bit bigger than Bellatrix's vault.
The vault was filled with innumerous piles of gold, armor, weapons, and countless other objects. Harry was strongly reminded of Bellatrix's vault, though this one held nothing gruesome—like the skull he'd seen—beyond the odd animal pelt.
As the door reappeared behind Harry and the goblin, Harry found that the room was lit by a soft glow that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, instead of being plunged into complete darkness. This made sense to Harry—wizards would definitely not appreciate having to hunt around in the darkness each time they came down to their vaults. He guessed that the darkness that had occurred when he, Ron, Hermione, and Griphook had snuck into Bellatrix's vault had been a precaution against thieves.
Harry spent a couple of minutes poking around the vault, mostly just taking a look at what was there. None of the armor or weapons looked to be very useful, even the ones that had anti-rusting charms on them. He also came across a small collection of portraits of different people who look quite a bit like him, except for the eyes. Harry assumed that they were his ancestors. He admired them for a minute before moving on.
After about ten minutes, Harry began to get bored, having not found anything much of any interest. Just as he began to make his way back toward the door, however, something caught the corner of his eye, and he turned around to investigate.
As he approached, Harry found that the object that had caught his attention was a glimmering silver necklace hanging off a nearby shelf. Harry reached a hand out to pull it from its place, but as he did so he suddenly slipped on the coins beneath his feet and stumbled forward, slamming his outstretched hand on a dagger resting nearby. Harry instantly hissed in pain and pulled his hand back toward him, cradling the injured appendage against his chest.
It was what happened next however that caused Harry to gasp in shock: Before his very eyes, the wound began to close, the blood receding back into the cut. After only a few seconds the gash had completely disappeared and his hand looked as though it had never been cut in the first place.
"Mr. Potter, are you alright?" Harry suddenly heard the goblin call out from closer to the door.
"Fine!" Harry called out in reply. He glanced back down at his unmarked hand, still shaking from what he'd just witnessed. It just wasn't possible. Thoughts were swirling around in his mind faster than he could keep track of and eventually he had to shake his head and block them out, just to prevent himself from going insane. He'd think more about it later, when he had the time. Harry put his hand back down and turned his attention back onto the necklace.
Being extra careful this time, Harry approached the necklace and picked it up. It was made out of a silvery material, he noticed, though for some reason he didn't think that it was actually silver. The pendant itself was an intricate Celtic design with some sort of a shapeless creature in the middle made out of a black stone. Harry squinted at it and brought it closer to his face, trying to make out what it was, but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. After a moment Harry lowered it and shrugged; though it was strange to see such a thing in the Potter vault, it didn't matter much.
Harry moved to put the necklace down, but at the last moment something stopped him. For some reason it felt...wrong...to put it back. Not the Horcrux-possession sort of wrong, but more like he was doing something bad just by putting it back in its place. Harry stared at the pendant for another moment before finally sighing and relenting. In a quick motion he slipped it over his head and then tucked it beneath his shirt.
With a single backward glance, Harry turned around and began to make his way out of the vault.
After Harry had left the Potter family vault, it hadn't taken long to reach Bellatrix's vault. It had looked exactly the same as the last time that Harry'd been there, though the dragon guarding it didn't look quite so worn.
Fortunately, this time the items of the vault didn't have Gemino and Flagerante curses on them and Harry knew exactly where the cup was, so he was easily able to make a beeline for it and then pull it down.
Harry and the goblin had then gotten back into the cart and were now hurtling toward their next and last destination: The Peverell vault. Harry wanted to see what was in it and he also figured that it'd be the perfect place to leave Hufflepuff's cup until he had a way to destroy it.
It took a while to travel deep into the bowels of Gringotts. By the time that they finally screeched to a halt, Harry was actually beginning to worry about the time; he'd spent a long time in Gringotts already and he still had a lot to do that day.
"Vault 35," the goblin murmured as he exited the cart after Harry. The dark haired boy couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Were they really that far down? His attention was torn from his thoughts though when he noticed that the goblin had not brought the Clankers with him.
"Uh," Harry began, "The Clankers...?"
"They will do no good here," the goblin said simply as he continued on pass the landing point and into the large cavern.
Almost as soon as Harry stepped into the cavern, the necklace he had on began to burn against his skin. Jerking in surprise, Harry quickly gripped it through his shirt. By that time however the burning had already stopped and Harry was left to wonder whether or not he'd even felt it in the first place. Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure, but followed after the goblin anyway.
Inside the cavern was not one, but two massive dragons standing on either side of a large silver door. The dragons had sleek black scales with dark, gleaming eyes that sent shivers down Harry spine. They were also larger than any dragon Harry had ever seen. He guessed that they were nearly twice the size of the Hungarian Horntail that he'd had to fight in his fourth year, and he'd heard before that Hungarian Horntail's were supposed to be the largest dragons in existence. Harry also noted with no small amount of trepidation that they didn't have the scars that the other dragons in Gringotts did and weren't even chained down to the floor.
With a gulp, Harry stopped next to the goblin, who was in the entrance to cavern with a similarly wary look on his face.
"Mortem Dragons," the goblin told Harry quietly. "Supposedly the last ones in existence. I'd heard rumors that there was a pair at Gringotts, but hadn't honestly believed..." The goblin took a deep breath. "You will have to go alone from here—they will allow no one but the owner of the vault to approach them."
"But the door—" Harry started, holding back the urge to point as if the goblin could not see them.
"—Will only open for the vault's owner. Even we goblins can't open the older vaults. It's an added security precaution."
Harry eyed the goblin warily. Go up to those dragons? "Mortem Dragons"? Even if he'd never heard of such a breed before, he knew that they weren't good news just from that kind of name. Offhandedly, Harry couldn't keep from wondering if this was a trap—his experience with goblins had shown that they definitely weren't to be trusted—but quickly discarded the idea. No matter how untrustworthy they were, they were always careful with their customers and wouldn't gain anything from getting a client, particularly one that was the heir to three houses, killed.
As soon as Harry began to approach, the Mortem Dragons began to growl. It was a loud, terrifying sound the reverberated off the cavern walls. At the same time they peeled back their lips in identical snarls, revealing pearly white fangs nearly as long as Harry was tall. Maybe backing would be a good idea right about now…
Almost as quick as their growling had started however, it stopped. The noise just cut off abruptly as the two Death Dragons stared at Harry and then they smoothly moved down into what Harry could only describe as a bow. After a moment like that, they moved back up into sitting position and proceeded to sit motionless, like living statues, on either side of the vault door.
Harry eyed the two for a moment, making sure that they weren't going to suddenly attack, and then continued toward the door.
The vault door, Harry found, was made out some sort of silver metal. Harry thought that it might even be the same metal as his necklace, but he couldn't be sure, and for some reason didn't want to pull it out to check. Harry paused in front of the door and then hesitantly placed a hand on it like he'd seen the goblins do.
Unlike when the goblins opened the vaults however, the door didn't simply disappear. Instead it seemed to disperse into a black shadow, which remained over the door, not allowing anyone to see inside. Acting upon a whim, Harry pressed his hand to the shadowy darkness, and then gasped in surprise when it passed right through as though nothing was there.
Confident now, Harry stepped through the shadowy barrier.
The vault on the other side of the barrier was both similar and dissimilar to the other family vaults that Harry had been in. It didn't hold nearly as much gold as the others, but instead was far larger—nearly twice the size, Harry would venture to say. It also held an uncountable amount of other objects, which nearly completely filled the immense space.
Everything that Harry could have thought of was there. Weapons, armor, jewelry, raw jewels, magical objects, Muggle objects, statues, carpets, paintings, sculptures, books—countless bookcases full of them—and so much more. Harry even saw a bunch of potions, most of which he couldn't recognize, held under what appeared to be a very powerful stasis spell.
As Harry moved further into the vault, he glanced back over his shoulder at the vault's entrance way. The shadowy barrier was still there, and he couldn't see through to the other side.
Harry turned his attention back onto the Peverell vault as he began walking around. He couldn't help but marvel at all of the objects held there. The vault may not have contained much gold, but the worth of the objects there was probably far more than the gold in the Potter family vault and Bellatrix's vault combined—Harry was sure that he even saw what appeared to be some masterpieces of art!
It was among those very paintings that Harry gained his second great shock of the day. At first it appeared to be just a simple portrait of two men—nothing special; there were many others like it—but a double take caused Harry to let out a gasp.
The man in the painting was himself.
Harry took a few steps toward the painting, not quite believing what he was seeing, but it was true—down to the shape of his face, the man appeared to be his carbon copy.
After a moment however, as the initial shock began to wear off, Harry began to notice several slight differences. First and foremost, the man in the picture appeared to be in his late twenties, which Harry was not, even before he'd been sent to the past. On top of that he did not wear glasses and only one of his eyes was the same green color as Harry's, while the other, the right one, was blue.
Harry's eyes drifted down to the bottom of the painting's frame, where there was a small plaque with an engraved inscription. It read: Ignotus Peverell.
Harry's mouth opened once more in shock. So this was his ancestor? The original owner of the invisibility cloak? Harry really couldn't believe how much he looked like him.
One thing that did confuse Harry was why there was only one name on the plaque, while there were two people in the portrait. He knew for sure that his clone was Ignotus, but the other...
The second man was ancient looking. He had wrinkled skin that was dotted with age spots and had wispy white hair that barely covered his balding head. It was the man's shining, silvery eyes though that gave Harry pause. He had seen them before, somewhere. But that was impossible, right? The painting must have been nearly a thousand years old!
It was the shifting of coins beneath Harry's feet that woke him from his reverie. With a sigh, the young wizard stepped back from the painting and began to once again move deeper into the vault after only a single glance backward.
After a couple of minutes, Harry came to a stop in roughly the middle of the vault in front of an old mahogany desk. Despite the wood's age, it still looked quite strong. Harry had little doubt that it was probably because of a stasis spell. Hell, the whole vault was probably under a stasis spell, all things considered. The top of the desk was empty, giving Harry a perfect idea: Since the desk was in the center of the large vault it could not be seen from the entrance, but at the same time was in an area that Harry had easy access to, it seemed to Harry to be the perfect place to keep the Horcruxes.
With a smirk, Harry set the cup that he'd been carrying around in the middle of the desk. With any luck, tomorrow he'd also have Slytherin's locket and the Gaunt ring to add to the collection.
His task done, Harry spun on his heel to began to make his way out of the vault, but abruptly froze: Standing there, previously hidden behind a large statue, was a pedestal. And on that pedestal was what Harry knew could be nothing other than a pensieve.
This pensieve, however, was quite unlike the one that Dumbledore owned. It was larger, for one, though granted not by too much. It was also made out of a black stone with a white stone inlay on the inside, creating a beautiful, intricate pattern. Harry couldn't help but stare in awe as he stood in front of it—it was like nothing that he'd seen before.
All appearances aside, the instant Harry had realized what the object was—and thus what he now owned—plans began to formulate in his mind. This was perfect. He couldn't believe that he'd never thought of this before. Now that he had this pensieve he could go back through all the memories of his last seven years. Then, with that extra, sharpened knowledge, he could plan exactly how to win this war.
Harry's current memories of his earlier years at Hogwarts were hazy at best in general, partly because it had been so long ago for him, and partly because he'd been young at the time. Now, with this pensieve, he could completely remedy that situation. Harry begun to wish that he'd come back to the wizarding world sooner, though he knew that that was impossible because Dumbledore most likely would have immediately picked up on his departure.
Harry was tempted to pick up the pensieve and bring it with him right then and there, but he knew better than to do so. Walking around with a pensieve—particularly one like that—was stupid at best, and he didn't even have his wand yet. No, Harry would come back for it later—either that night or the next day; whenever he had time.
With a grin on his face and a bounce on his step, Harry left the Peverell vault.
The ride back up to ground level would take nearly a half an hour. Harry knew this. The goblin knew this. Thus, Harry took this ample time to ask some of the questions that'd been nagging at the back of his mind for while that he knew the goblin could answer.
"What are the different security levels?" Harry started off by asking. "I noticed how the deeper we got, the better the security got."
The goblin took a measured glance at Harry. He waited for a moment before finally answering in a slow voice.
"The vaults above 1000 are all regular vaults with average to high security, depending on the vault and not the depth," he answered, his face pinched in a way that told Harry that he did not enjoy this 20 questions game. "Vaults 1000 and below are the maximum security vaults that require a goblin to open. Vaults 500 and below are the ones with dragon guardians. These generally belong to old families. Vaults 50 and below are the oldest vaults. Only the owners of these vaults can enter them."
Once he was finished with his succinct explanation, the goblin closed his mouth with a click of his teeth and said nothing more as he turned away. Harry fell into silence as well, mulling over this new information. For some reason he had a feeling that the goblin wouldn't have even said as much as he had had Harry not been one of the owner's of one of those "oldest vaults".
Several minutes later, Harry finally spoke up again, this time in a quieter tone, voicing the question that had actually been bothering him for a while.
"The Ministry of Magic..." Harry paused, unsure of how to continue for a moment. "...Does the Ministry know about the different families that I'm the heir too?"
Without looking at him, the goblin replied, "Lord." At Harry's confused glance, he elaborated. "Due to your age..."—the goblin cast a sidelong glance at him—"...You are now the Lord of all the families that you were heir to. And to answer your question, the moment you became aware of your blood heir status, so did the Ministry of Magic. They remain unaware of you, Harry Potter, are Lord Black and Lord Peverell however, just that there is a Lord Peverell-Black."
A slight smile came onto Harry's face, though he quickly hid it. That was very good; he hadn't been sure how he'd be able to explain how he became the magical heir of the Black family to the Ministry.
The rest of the trip passed in silence between Harry and the goblin. Before they knew it, it was over and the two were stepping out of the cart and onto the main platform. Harry stopped just in front of the door that led to the main hall however, and turned to look at the goblin.
"By the way," Harry said, attempting to sound casual. "Please pass a message onto Ragnok for me."
The goblin gave Harry a look, and the dark haired wizard had to smirk in reply; he knew perfectly well what the goblin was thinking. After all, Ragnok was the head Goblin chieftain and he had very little time for wizards. Harry could remember how desperately Bill had been trying to convince him to side with the Order of the Phoenix during the Second War with Voldemort.
"Tell him," Harry continued, beginning to step towards the door, "That I would like to set up a meeting to speak with him about the location of Gryffindor's sword..."
Even with his back turned, Harry could feel the sudden shock radiating off the goblin, and couldn't repress the grin that flew to his face as the slipped out the doors.
After exiting Gringotts, Harry began to make his way down Diagon Alley, wondering where to begin his shopping. Passing by Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, he decided that he might as well start there.
Upon stepping into the store, Harry was immediately met by Madam Malkin, a short, squat witch with a pleasant smiling face.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she said before Harry could even open his mouth to speak. "Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." Harry blinked in surprise, but then figured that there were probably quite a lot of people here today that were doing last minute shopping.
In the back room of the shop, however, Harry found that the boy standing on a footstool was someone that he definitely recognized: Draco Malfoy. But that didn't make any sense—Harry remembered meeting him here in the past, but that had been on July 31st, not August 30th.
Harry squashed down the instant feelings of dislike that rose to the surface on the very sight of the boy. At the same time, memories flashed through his head of the events of the last year or so. Dumbledore's death was first and foremost in this, but also was the way that Draco had changed sides in the end. Honestly, without his help—however unwilling or unintentional it may have been at times—Harry may not have been able to destroy all of the Horcruxes, particularly Ravenclaw's diadem. ...Even if Draco really didn't mean to help at that time.
Hiding the frown on his face, Harry stepped up next to the boy. Perhaps if he could make an impression on the boy, change his views while he was young...
"Hello," Draco said politely, "Hogwarts too?"
"Yes," he started of blandly.
"I'm already done with all my shopping, but there was a mix-up with my robes," Draco said while making a face. Ah, Harry thought, that explained why he was here.
"Do you play Quidditch?" Malfoy asked after a moment.
"No,"—that part was a blatant lie, but the boy didn't know any better, and technically, it was partly true in reference to the timeline—"Though I'm looking forward to playing." How true that was.
"Have you got a broom?"
"Not yet—I'm waiting. I have on good authority that a particularly good broom will be coming out in a few months time."
Malfoy instantly looked interested. "Oh?" he said. "And what house do you think you'll be in?"
Harry shrugged. Honestly, he wasn't sure. The sorting hat had said that it had been a difficult decision to begin with and now, with all of the things that he'd been through...
"I don't know."
Malfoy nodded. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? I think that I'll be in Slytherin though, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"Not at all," Harry interjected smoothly. "Hard work and patience hardly sound like bad traits to me. If anything, they're quite useful."
Harry expected Malfoy to instantly rebuff his words. To his great surprise however, the blonde haired boy did no such thing. Rather, he actually seemed to be thinking about what Harry had said.
"Hmm, perhaps," Malfoy hummed after a moment. "But still..." Malfoy's eyes met Harry's and for a moment the two of them just stared, each sizing up the other.
"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," Malfoy said, holding out a hand toward Harry. Harry hesitated for a second; this was the deciding moment. There was no going back after this.
Harry reached out and grasped Malfoy's hand.
"I'm Harry Potter."
Instantly, Malfoy went slack jawed and his gaze shot up to where Harry's scar was hidden by his hair. He continued to stare in shock for a moment before finally gathering up his composure once more.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you," Malfoy said.
Harry let out a low chuckle. "Likewise."
"Did you..." Malfoy began, but hesitated. "Were you really raised by Muggles like they say?"
Harry's expression froze. "Yes," he said coolly. He desperately hoped that Malfoy wouldn't judge him off of that so quickly—he was hoping that the boy hadn't been so set in his condescending ways so soon.
To Harry's surprise however, the boy just made a sympathetic sound. "That must have been dreadful," he said. "I can't even imagine. I don't even think that they should let the other sort into Hogwarts, do you? I think that they should keep it in the old wizarding families."
Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Malfoy. "You do realize that my mother was a Muggleborn, right?"
Almost instantly, Malfoy colored deeply and began stammering. It was amusing to Harry how easily the boy was starting to lose his composure around him.
"And besides," Harry continued, not giving Malfoy a chance to speak, "I've never been able to understand the discrimination against Muggleborns. I mean, what does it matter what their heritage is so long as they're talented? It's like disliking someone just because they have blue eyes. Say, for example, a Muggleborn witch is incredibly talented and invents a slew of new spells. Would you honestly not use any of those spells just because of the heritage of their inventor? And if it's their lack of knowledge about the wizarding world that's bothering you, then why doesn't Hogwarts have classes on wizarding culture? They have one on Muggles after all..."
Once again Malfoy was surprised into speechlessness. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times as his mind processed what Harry had said. Finally, he settled on a contemplative look. Obviously, with his father being who he was, Malfoy had never considered such a perspective before.
At that moment, as the two of them stood in silence, someone suddenly entered from the front. Madam Malkin, who'd been working busily around Harry's robes, looked up in surprise. Said surprise only increased when she saw that the newcomer was a goblin wearing the uniform of Gringotts.
Madam Malkin opened her mouth to question that goblin, but he swept past her before she could do so. The goblin stopped before Harry and lowered into a bow.
"Lord Potter," he said by way of greeting. Harry could feel shock radiating off everyone in the room at the title. The goblin held out a sealed envelope. "I was instructed by Ragnok to give you this." As soon as Harry took the letter, the goblin turned on his heel and left.
For a moment Harry stared at the letter in his hands. He hadn't honestly expected Ragnok to reply to him so quickly. He contemplated opening the letter right then and there but, feeling Malfoy's questioning gaze boring into his back, he decided against doing so. He'd have more than enough time later.
The rest of Harry's time in the robe shop was spent in silence. Finally, Madam Malkin shakily announced that she was done. She'd had more than a few shocks that day.
"Should I pay you now, or...?" Harry asked.
"Oh, no, dear," the witch replied. "You can pay when you come by to pick them up. They should be done in about an hour or so." Harry nodded his thanks and then, with a final goodbye to Malfoy, swept out of the shop.
As he stepped back onto Diagon Alley, Harry pulled his school list out of his pocket and glanced it over. He had his uniform now, so all that he needed was his books, his trunk, the other equipment, and, of course, his wand. After a moment's thought, he decided on getting his trunk first so that'd he'd have a place to put the things he'd buy.
The trunk store was surprisingly not anywhere near as crowded as it'd been when Harry'd been there last. As a matter of fact, Harry was the only customer there at the moment.
"What can I do for you?" asked the storekeeper. "Do you need a trunk for Hogwarts? I've got a whole batch still left."
"Ah, yes please," Harry replied. "Although...I'm looking for one with particularly strong magic-resistant locks. Do you have anything like that?"
The storekeeper chuckled. "Oh, don't worry my boy—you won't need anything like that at Hogwarts." Under Harry's unrelenting stare however, his grin slowly faded. "Fine," he grumbled. "It's your money."
The shopkeeper turned around and began to head toward the back of the store.
"Come," the man bid. "I have some strong trunks back here."
Harry followed the man to the back of the store where the trunks did indeed appear to be stronger. The storekeeper stopped in front of the back wall and rested his hand upon what appeared to be a simple wooden trunk, not much larger than Harry's previous school one.
"This," the man began, "Is a fairly simple appearing trunk. However,"—he tapped what appeared to be a solid piece of metal that was over where the lock should have been—"Its lock is one of the strongest available. The lock is made out of pure magic-enhanced silver. It is impervious to all currently known unlocking spells, from the weakest to the most powerful. It's unbreakable and just generally spelled to be able to be opened only by the owner. The wood is also enchanted to be unbreakable and there's a permanent feather-light charm on the trunk."
Harry looked at the mulling over whether or not to get it. Finally, he nodded.
"Alright," Harry said. "That'll do."
The storekeeper looked surprised—obviously he hadn't actually expected Harry to buy such a trunk.
"Er, right..." he said, "But just to warn you, once you officially own the trunk you will not be able to return it, nor will anyone else be able to open it." At Harry's accepting nod he continued. "The price of the trunk is 57 galleons."
This time Harry did raise his eyebrows at such a price. Considering how many enchantments were on the wood and lock though, it made sense. So, Harry reached into his money bag and then handed over the correct amount. The storekeeper almost looked gleefully at the idea of actually making such a sale.
"Alright," the man said, sounding much brighter as he pocketed the money, "Please just place you thumb on the latch and I'll perform the ownership transference charm."
Once Harry had placed his thumb to the cool metal, the storekeeper pulled out his wand. He began murmuring incantations under his breath, waving his wand in a complicated pattern as he did so. Finally, he tapped Harry's thumb gently with the tip of his wand.
As soon as the wand made contact, Harry felt a shiver run through him, signifying the magic that was taking place.
"Well, that's done. Now whenever you want to open the trunk, simply press your thumb to the lock."
Harry nodded and withdrew his hand. This was good; no one would be able to break into trunk now, not even Dumbledore. Of course Harry didn't honestly expect anyone to try break into his trunk, but he figured that it'd be better to be safe than sorry. And so, lifting the trunk with one hand, Harry left the shop.
The rest of Harry's shopping passed by quite quickly. Before Harry knew it he'd already bought all of his needed parchment, quills, and ink, including a bottle of Self-Correcting ink that'd caught his eye. Harry had also bought the required telescope, cauldron, crystal phials, brass scales, and telescope, as well as a lunascope, which showed the phases of the moons.
A glance down at his list showed that Harry only had his potions ingredients and books left on his equipment list left. Harry began to head off toward the Apothecary, when he suddenly realized that he was standing outside of Flourish and Blotts. With a shrug, Harry went inside.
Harry must have spent nearly a half an hour inside the book store. It took only a minute to get his required school books, but after that Harry wandered around the store, picking up any books that looked as though they'd be able to help him.
Some of these books included the basic books for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes—both of which Harry decided that he'd take this time around—Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms, A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry, The Dark Arts Outsmarted, Nature's Nobility, Important Modern Magical Discoveries, Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions, Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration, and so many more. By the time Harry was done, he had nearly twenties books.
Harry smiled when he thought of what Hermione would say if she saw him with so many books. Harry had never really been one for studying and reading before, but war had changed him. And if he didn't do something, it was going to change everyone.
Once Harry had purchased all of his selections—many of which caused the owner to stare strangely at him—he put them all away in his trunk, which was beginning to get fairly full. Then he headed down the street toward the Apothecary.
The inside the Apothecary was just as strange, fascinating, and smelly as it was every time Harry visited. The first thing that Harry did was ask the man at the counter for a supply of basic potion ingredients. Once they were purchased and put away, he turned to leave, but something stopped him. Instead, the young wizard began to head deeper into the store, glancing at the different jars around him as he did so.
Harry was just rounding the corner of an isle when he suddenly bumped into someone walking toward him. With a gasp, Harry reflexively reached out a hand and caught a jar that fell from the shelf next to him.
A sheepish look on his face, Harry looked up at the person he'd bumped into, only to freeze.
Standing looming above him with a sour look on his face was none other than Severus Snape.
A/N: The above mentioned books are all canon. You can look them up on HP-Lexicon.
Thanks for all your reviews for the last chapter! Much appreciated. The next chapter should be out in a week—that's the schedule I'm going to attempt to keep, though the exact day might vary.
[Shi]