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 IV
The Professor
"Life is like a book waiting for you to write it." - unknown
For several moments Harry could do nothing but stare up at Snape in shock, his blood pumping through his veins. All that was running through his head was memories of the man's painful death.
Snape had been the first person that Harry had seen die not from the instant death of the killing curse but from other, slower means. It'd left a mark on him, no matter how much he'd hated the man. The fact that later Harry had found out the reasons for Snape's actions only increased this.
Harry quickly became aware that he was staring and shifted his eyes onto the jar in his hands, which he then placed back on its shelf. Already, ideas were beginning to run through his head. Harry was one of very few people who knew what side Snape was actually on and for what reasons. If he could somehow get into Snape's favor...
"Watch where you're going boy," Snape snapped.
Harry gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, sir," he said. "I guess I was just too distracted..."
Snape rolled his eyes. "This is an Apothecary, not a playground to stare at things."
"Oh, that's not it at all, sir!" Harry replied, adding a tone of excitement to his voice. "It was just distracted by thinking of potions. It's just the idea that you could mix several completely unrelated ingredients and get the results that you can..." Harry made a sweeping gesture with his hands while doing his best to look abashed. "It's just such an incredibly fascinating idea." And it was, Harry couldn't help but think, though he was mostly just playing up to his professor's love of potions.
Snape was staring at Harry. It wasn't the way that he usually glared at him though, Harry noticed. Rather, it was as if he was studying him, assessing him. Finally, after a moment of tense silence, Snape smirked.
"Yes," he drawled slowly. "It is a fascinating art, isn't it? You'll learn even more about it's...delicates...at Hogwarts. I assume that you'll be starting this year?" Harry nodded his head rapidly in reply and Snape's smirk widened. "Then I suppose I'll see you there; I'm the potions professor."
Harry let out a surprised gasp. "Really?" he asked excitedly. "What potions will we be learning? Are there specific methods that are used? Should I bring any extra equipment?"
Snape blinked in surprise as Harry rattled off questions. Clearly he hadn't expected such a reaction, even with the interest that Harry had been showing in potions.
"You'll do fine with what was on your list. And if there's really anything else that you need...I have more than anything you'd need in my storeroom, including ingredients."
Harry grinned widely. "Thank you sir!" he said. Feeling that he'd hung around long enough, he began to turn away. "I'd better get going now, but thank you for your tips. I'm looking forward to potions class."
Harry began to hurry off, but Snape's voice stopped him.
"Boy," Snape quickly said. "What's your name? I think that you'd do well in my house."
Harry smile brightly up at the man. "Harry Potter!" he said before quickly disappearing down the aisle, leaving a shell-shocked Snape behind.
He didn't stop running until he was well out of the Apothecary and down the Alley. He didn't know how Snape would have reacted had he stayed around, and he didn't want to find out. Finally Harry slowed to a walk, a slight smile on his face. It was interesting, dealing with the potions master again. He could only hope that perhaps this time around the man wouldn't hate him so much.
After a minute walking, Harry came across Ollivander's. The store was narrow and shabby with peeling gold letters over the door that read: Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. With a strange feeling of trepidation, Harry entered.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as he stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair. Harry could feel the heavy, ancient feeling that was permeating the place resting on his shoulders, causing him to fall completely silent
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped, despite the fact that he'd been expecting it.
Ollivander was standing behind the long counter now, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," Harry said awkwardly. He was starting to feel like he really was eleven again and in the shop for his first time.
"Ah yes," Mr. Ollivander said. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were more than a bit creepy.
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it-it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."
Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. Then the elderly man raised a hand.
"And that's where..."
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger, just as he had last time. This time, however, as soon as his finger touched Harry's skin, Ollivander abruptly jerked back, as if he'd been shocked. He shook his head mutely as if clearing something out. When he looked back up at Harry, he gave him a long, measuring look.
"Well, now-Mr. Potter. Let me see," he continued after a moment, as if nothing had happened. "Which is your wand arm?" At the same time he pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.
"Right," Harry replied shortly. He was starting to feel quite strange in this shop. Even though nearly everything happened in the same way as before, it somehow seemed as though everything had changed with a single touch—even if it hadn't.
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He began to measure Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. As he measured he didn't speak, and after just a moment he retreated between the nearby shelves, leaving the tape measure to do its work by itself.
After taking down several boxes, he finally said, "That will do." Instantly the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beachwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
Harry took the wand and, knowing that he'd get no results, waved it around it bit. It took a good chunk of his self control not to wave it around in the pattern for a spell-that would be incredibly suspicious-but he managed it. Of course there was indeed no reaction from the wand and it was quickly snatched out of his hand by Ollivander and just as quickly replaced by another.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"
Harry had hardly raised his hand this time when the wand was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.
"No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
Harry tried. And tried. Before long a pile of tried wands began mounting, getting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands that Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.
"A tricky one, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere-I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
With a deep breath Harry took the wand. As soon as his hands grasped a hold of the familiar wand, his wand, he prepared for the sudden warmth that he knew accompanied holding your wand for the first time, but it never came. Sparks shot out of the wand, showing its reaction to him, but there was no warmth. It was his wand, but at the same time, it wasn't.
"Curious...curious..." Ollivander murmured, staring at the wand. Harry stared at the wand too. What had happened?
Harry let out a breath and asked the question that he knew would spark Ollivander's explanation of the wand, as it had last time.
"Sorry," Harry said, "But what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. "It would seem, Mr. Potter that you already have a wand that has unquestionably chosen you as its owner. Yet, at the same time, this wand has chosen you as well. This is has never happened before."
Harry's thoughts froze. How was that possible? He owned another wand...? Suddenly, inexplicably, Harry's thoughts turned to the Elder Wand. When he had "died" he had been the owner of the Elder Wand. Had that ownership somehow transferred over to the past? It seemed impossible...But it also was the only thing that made sense.
"On top of that," Ollivander continued, breaking Harry from his thoughts. "The Trace on you magic has apparently been deactivated, which should also be impossible since that can only happen when one turns seventeen."
Half turned away from Mr. Ollivander, Harry froze once more. No way; that couldn't be true. And yet, it made complete sense, especially since the Blood Parchment in Gringotts had said that he was 18. It was as if his past, was also the past here…with everything happening to him as he continued to grow with his real age.
As these thoughts ran through Harry's mind, the implications of what Ollivander was saying suddenly hit him. The Trace was already gone. The Ministry couldn't track his magic. He could do magic whenever he wanted. He was unrestricted.
"I do believe that we can expect great things, Mr. Potter," Ollivander suddenly said. "Though exactly what those things are will be is entirely up to you."
As Harry left Ollivander's, he couldn't repress the large small that came to his face, brought on by the immense feeling of freedom that he had at the moment. The entire world was opened before him—he could do anything he wanted and no one would be the wiser. Harry hadn't felt this good since the first time he'd been told that he was a wizard.
Harry walked along with a bounce in his step toward his next and last destination: Eeylops Owl Emporium.
The inside of the shop was just as dimly lit as ever, and was filled with tawny, screech, barn, brown, and snowy owls. For a moment, as Harry stood inside the shop, he felt a sudden fear grip his heart like the icy cold hand of a dementor. He couldn't see Hedwig. What if someone had already bought her? What if he was too late?
Harry's qualms were all for naught however, as just a moment later he spotted a familiar cage hidden in a gloomy corner of the store. Harry let out a soft sigh of relief as he approached the cage, his gaze glued to Hedwig's form.
Even though it had already been nearly a year for him, he could still clearly remember Hedwig's death. And it still tore him a part inside—after all, she had been his first real friend. Harry had never thought it'd be possibly for him to have her back, but now he finally did.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Harry turned around to face the shopkeeper, who was standing behind him.
"Yes, I'd like to purchase this owl," he replied while gesturing to Hedwig. The snowy white owl cocked her head at Harry, studying him.
"Of course, sir," said the shopkeeper. She pulled Hedwig's cage down from the hook that it was hanging on and brought it over to the counter. It then only took a minute for Harry to purchase Hedwig, her cage, as well as some treats for her. Once that had been done, Harry exited the shop with Hedwig's cage in one hand and a large smile on his face.
Once Harry was sure that he'd purchased everything that he currently needed he headed out of Diagon Alley by slipping down an alley between two buildings and Disapparating away. He'd considered staying the night at the Leaky Cauldron but then, remembering the story that he'd told Tom the barkeeper, decided that that was a bad idea.
Instead, Harry headed off toward one of the buildings that he now owned: Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
Harry instantly appeared in front of a grimy black door with a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent situated between numbers eleven and thirteen. At the current time there was no Fidelius on the house, though it was unplottable and, according to Sirius, had every security measure known to wizard-kind on the house.
With a deep breath, Harry silently opened the door, and stepped into the large entrance hall. To Harry's surprise, while it did look a bit dusty and dirty, it was far from the state that it'd been in when Harry had last been there, and that was after they had cleaned it up. Suddenly remembering that Arcturus Black had only died a month or two ago, everything clicked in Harry's mind. Doubtless the house had gone down hill during the five years that it'd been left empty with only Kreacher to look after it, but at the moment it was in a much better state.
Harry tiptoed past Mrs. Black's portrait, though whether it was from habit or truly not wanting to wake her up he wasn't sure. Harry went straight past the stairs and into the drawing room, well away from any spying portraits. Then, once there, he drew his wand and cast a couple of silencing charms and wards-just to be safe. He figured that a year on the run from death eaters had made him more paranoid than he'd like to admit.
Finally, he took in a deep breath, then called out, "Kreacher!"
With a sharp crack, the old house-elf appeared before Harry, a look of pure confusion on his face. He was just as Harry remembered him, with his snout-like nose and floppy, wrinkled ears, though his outfit looked less like a rag and more like a pillowcase.
As he stared down at the elder elf, Harry's previous memories of him came rushing back, particularly the ones of the past year...Er, rather, seven years in the future. The elf had turned into such a helpful companion after he'd warmed up to Ron, Hermione, and himself. If he could get the elf to like him again, right off the bat, it would help so much. Not to mention that he'd actually begun to truly like the older creature—in a way.
"Master?" Kreacher croaked out in his bullfrog voice. His face was twisted into an expression of intense confusion. He couldn't figure out how someone whom he'd never even seen before had been able to call him.
"Yes," Harry said regally, "I am the new lord of House Black."
Kreacher's continued to stare for a moment before his expression melted into a fierce glare.
"You can't be Master!" he hissed. After only just a moment however his face was confused once more instead of angry as he gasped out, "Y-you..."
Harry's face softened. He'd forgotten how extreme Kreacher's mood swings could be.
"I am," he told the house-elf quietly. "I'm the magical heir of House Black. That's why you've never met me before." He let out a sigh. "It...It's a long and complicated story. Please don't ask."
Kreacher hesitated, blinking large eyes, and then nodded, accepting his new master's order.
Harry smiled lightly down at Kreacher. "I'm Harry and, as I just said, I'm the new lord, despite my age. I'll be spending the next few days here before I have to go to Hogwarts." Harry paused. "Arcturus Black just died recently, correct?"
Kreacher let out a low wail. "Yes," he replied, sniffling. "Master Black passed in June. Poor Kreacher, all alone, all alone."
"Er, yes, well, I'm here now," Harry started, hoping to calm the slightly loopy house-elf.
Harry was shocked to see the elf smile brightly up at him in response. He hadn't realized just how much five years of solitude and bitterness must have changed the elf. He seemed like a completely different being now. All the better for him.
"Ah, Kreacher, there's one other thing that I'd like to talk to you about..."
Harry hesitated, unsure on how to continue. Finally, after a moment, an idea popped into his mind.
"Turn around to face the door for a moment, Kreacher," Harry instructed. "I have a surprise."
Suspicious and yet at the same time excited, Kreacher did so bouncing back and forth as he turned, covering his eyes. Once he was fully facing the other direction, Harry grinned widely. He pulled out his wand and cast Muffilato on Kreacher so that the elf wouldn't be able to hear anything that was going on in the room.
Once that was done, Harry nearly sprinted over to the large cabinet that was behind him. He fumbled around in it for a moment, before he came across what he was looking for: A familiar heavy golden locket.
Harry couldn't help but grimace as he held it in his hand. It was almost hard to believe that this little piece of jewelry was a Horcrux, that it held a piece of Voldemort's soul. But it did.
Quietly, Harry pointed his wand at the necklace and murmured, "Geminio."
Instantaneously, a second necklace, an exact copy of the first popped into existence. Harry tucked the first necklace away and then turned back around and approached Kreacher with the copy in his hands.
"Kreacher," he murmured after removing the silencing spells. Questioningly, the elf turned around, only to freeze in shock upon seeing the necklace grasped in Harry's outstretched fist.
"I know about what happened with Regulus Black," Harry said after taking a deep breath. He paused for a moment after seeing tears well up in Kreacher's eyes at the very mention of his deceased master's name, but pushed on anyway. "I won't ask you for details, because I know that the whole ordeal must be rather painful. I know that you have tried to destroy the necklace, but have been unable to do so. Instead, in the meantime, I'd like you take the necklace. To, er, protect it. It's the next best thing to destroying it, right? I'm sure that it's what Regulus would have wanted..."
For several long moments Kreacher stood frozen in place in shock. His wide eyes and quick breathing were the only signs that he'd even really heard what Harry had said. Quite suddenly however, the old house-elf burst into hysterical tears. He began blubbering and clutching at Harry's pants while the young wizard just stood, not knowing how to react.
It took the elf several minutes to fully calm down. Once he had, he stood in front of Harry, staring up at him with wide eyes while clutching the heavy locket to his chest.
"Kreacher thanks Master Black," the elf wheezed out. "Regulus would have loved Master Black, yes he would."
"Um, thanks, Kreacher," Harry said hesitantly. "And please call me Harry; that's my name. Harry Po-... Harry Black-Potter." He figured that that technically was his name now. Or perhaps it was Harry Peverell-Black-Potter.
Kreacher beamed up at Harry. "Of course Master Harry sir!"
Harry sighed. He knew from experience that that was the best that he'd get out of the elf. At least he wasn't calling him lord or anything like that.
Footsteps echoed through a long, stone hallway as a tall man stalked through. His face remained impassive and his steps were quite stiff. He made his way along silently before finally entering through a doorway at the end of the hall which let to an extravagantly decorated drawing room.
As soon as the man stepped inside, Draco Malfoy jumped up from where he'd been sitting. "Father!" he called out, a smile taking over his face.
The man, Lucius Malfoy, returned the boy's smile, though it was only a fleeting one before his face returned to its impassive state. His posture, however, did relax ever so slightly.
"How was your trip to Diagon Alley?" the elder Malfoy asked as he took off his outer robe and hung it from a nearby rack.
Draco's smile faded into a more contemplative look. Sensing the sudden change in his son's mood, Lucius turned around to face the boy, his eyes narrowing.
"Did something happen while you were there?" he asked, tone darkening.
Draco hesitated, deciding whether or not to tell his father about what had happened. "Well," he started slowly, "When I was getting my robes refitted, another boy came in..."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Who was it?"
"...Harry Potter," Draco admitted. Lucius' eyes widened in surprise, but before he could even open his mouth to say anything, Draco continued on in a rush. "He's really different than I expected. Not at all like someone whose was raised by Muggles, although he admitted that he was. And there's one other thing: When he were talking, a goblin came into the shop and handed him a note. He said it was from Ragnok. But the thing is—he called him Lord Potter!"
Lucius' eyes narrowed to slits. Even the most ignorant of people could tell that his mind was whirling, trying to figure out exactly what this meant.
"It seems," he murmured after a moment, "That Harry Potter is going to be a more interesting figure than we expected..."
Later that night, Harry laid spread out on a large, comfortable bed. He was currently residing in the master bedroom of the house. He'd wanted to take one of the smaller rooms, but Kreacher had been adamant that as the new lord he should take the master bedroom and, having just gotten onto good footing with the elf, he didn't want to ruin their blooming relationship over something so petty. Besides, the room was very nice.
Almost as soon as Harry had gotten settled in, Kreacher had rushed Harry down into the drawing room, where he'd proceeded to feed Harry lunch. The boy was generally amused by the elf's antics. It seemed that he'd missed having someone to take care of in the few months since Arcturus Black had died.
After a quick lunch, Harry had retreated into the Black Library. He'd never gotten the chance to properly look through it, what with the war and all, and was pleasantly surprised at the number of books there and the variety of subjects that they were on. Only a very small number were actually Dark Arts books. Other than those, there were numerous ones that Harry decided to take with him to Hogwarts.
Once Harry was finished searching through the extensive library he'd retreated back to his new room. There, he'd put away his new books and pulled out some parchment. He'd started on writing a long list of all the spells that he knew, both from classes and those that he'd learned outside of school—mostly from Hermione.
To Harry's great surprise, he found that he knew a lot more spells than he'd guessed. He'd never written them all out before or anything like that, but doing so really helped him to get a grasp on just how much magic he knew.
After he was finished with the list, Harry had set it aside and then had begun to methodically go through all of his first year books, practicing the spells. By the time Six O'clock had rolled around, he'd already gone through all of the first year material and was more than ready for the upcoming year. Harry figured that he'd spend most of his time in Hogwarts learning new, even more advanced material.
And now Harry was lying back on his bed, his books tucked neatly away. Surprisingly, despite all of the things that he'd done that day—had it really only been a day?—Harry wasn't tired. If anything, he was energized.
Harry was woken from his thoughts by a sharp crack. He turned his head to the side to stare at Kreacher, whom had just entered the room.
"Master Harry sir," the elf said almost giddily. "Dinner is ready."
Harry blinked slowly, offhandedly studying the changes in the elf from the Kreacher that he'd known. This one was so much...happier, more alive. Hermione had been right in the beginning of their fifth year when she'd said that he wasn't right in the head; years of solitude really had been hard on him.
"Coming, Kreacher," Harry said with a sigh. He rolled off the bed and then followed the house-elf out of the bedroom and down several flights of stairs. Harry couldn't help but grimace as he saw all of the dust that had already collected. It wasn't nearly as bad as it was in the future, but still bad enough.
"Kreacher," Harry called out to the elf in front of him.
Kreacher turned around to stare at Harry with wide eyes. "Yes Master Harry sir?"
"Um, would you mind...cleaning the house up a bit?"
Harry almost regretted his words as instantly a look of horror came across Kreacher's face. "Of course Master Harry sir! It's just that with Master Black's death..." he almost squeaked, rummaging around for an excuse.
Harry had to hold back a chuckle. "It's fine Kreacher, really," he assured the elf. "Just please start to take care of the house now?"
Kreacher nodded his head quickly and for a moment Harry was almost reminded of Dobby.
Harry felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest at the thought of the sock-loving house-elf who had died so valiantly, but he quickly pushed the pain away. Dobby was alive now. He hadn't died yet.
"Ah, also," Harry said, turning his thoughts onto happier subjects, "There's something else I'd like for you to do. When you're not cleaning—and please don't over do it, I don't want you to hurt yourself—I'd like for you to look for any information that you can find on the Fidelius Charm. It's very important."
Again, Kreacher nodded his head almost violently. "Yes, Master Harry sir!" he croaked in replied. He then proceeded to flounce down the stairs toward the drawing room as Harry chuckled in amusement at the elf's enthusiasm behind him.
After he was done with dinner, Harry retired to his room once more, leaving Kreacher to begin his fervent cleaning.
Harry laid back on his bed and opened up one of the books from the Black library, this one on charms. As he read he found that it contained many interesting charms that he'd never even heard of. One in particular, however, caught his eye.
At first Harry thought that it was just another glamour charm. A bit more reading however, proved this to be wrong. Unlike the majority of charms, this one required it to be tied an object on the wearer. So long as the object was kept on the person the glamour illusion could not be removed, not even with a Finite Incantatem. If the object was removed or the counter spell put on the object, the glamour would be removed, though the spell could be replied to it later again if the caster so wished.
As Harry reread the passage about the spell, a large grin came onto his face. This could work out perfectly for him for a disguise. He'd already decided to keep himself and "Lord Peverell-Black" as separate identities. Now, with this charm, he could possibly have a foolproof disguise for Lord Peverell-Black. The only things that remained were what he would look like under the glamour and what object he would cast it on.
Almost immediately, Harry's thoughts went to the necklace around his neck. He reached into his shirt, pulled it out, and then spent a moment staring at the strange pendant before a smile came to his face once more. He didn't feel like he was going to be taking the necklace off anytime soon, so it would work for the object. And as no one knew he had it, no one would think to take it off of him.
As for his disguise...Harry's mind wandered for a moment before it came to rest on something else that he'd discovered earlier that day. That something just happened to be Ignotus Peverell, the man who had looked disturbingly like his future self.
Harry leapt up from his bed, excited to get started. He whipped out his wand and, after checking with the book once more, attempted the spell, saying the incantation loudly and clearly while keeping firm picture of how he wanted to look in his mind. As the last word dissipated into the silent air of the ancient house, Harry touched the tip of his wand to the pendant of his necklace. The pendant glowed briefly before returning to normal.
Harry hesitated, unsure as to whether or not it had worked, and then approached the nearby mirror. Staring back at him was Ignotus Peverell, mismatched eyes, adult height, and all. Harry let out a grin, overjoyed that the spell had worked. That and being back to a normal height was almost refreshing after being so short for so long.
Harry glanced down at his necklace. Now to make sure that it would come off...Harry pulled out his wand and touched the tip to the pendant once more. He murmured the counter spell and just moments later, when he glanced back up at the mirror, he was himself once more.
For a third time in just the past few minutes, Harry smiled widely. He would have to practice the spell a bit more, but for the most part he understood it.
As Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket, he felt a piece of paper brush against his hand and abruptly froze. Shit! He'd completely forgotten about the message that the goblin had given him! Quickly, Harry pulled the envelope out of his pocket, opened it, and proceeded to scan through the letter.
To Harry's immense surprise, the note turned out to be from Ragnok himself. This was particularly shocking because he remembered how difficult it had been for Bill Weasley to even get in contact with him, and Bill had worked for Gringotts. Needless to say, Harry had never expected that he'd receive a reply so quickly, let alone from him.
What was even more shocking were the details of the note: It requested a personal meeting with Harry. He couldn't help but shake his head in mute amazement. How many wizards could say that they had seen Ragnok, let alone met with him? He'd known that Gryffindor's Sword was important to the goblins, but not this important.
Harry let out a deep breath. This would be a difficult meeting, but it was also more than he could have hoped for. With a bit of luck, things would work out in his favor.
After a moment more staring at the letter, Harry carefully tucked it away once more. He took out a piece of blank parchment and quickly penned a reply note, saying that he would meet with Ragnok tomorrow. Done with that, Harry rolled the parchment up and approached Hedwig's cage, which was hanging in a brightly lit corner of the room.
"Hey girl," he said softly as he undid the latch. "Sorry to have to use you so soon, but this is really important."
Hedwig simply hooted, amber eyes content. She flew out of the cage, circled the room a couple of time to stretch her wings, and then landed on Harry's shoulder. She hooted softly once more and nipped Harry's ear affectionately. Harry smiled up at the snowy owl. He hadn't really realized until getter her back just how much he had missed her.
"Thanks," Harry said to Hedwig as he pet her plumage. "Now could you please deliver this message to Gringotts? It's of the utmost importance."
Hedwig hooted once more in affirmation and then stuck out her leg for the message to be tied to. With a smile, Harry attached the letter before leading his owl over to the window.
After releasing Hedwig into the waning light, Harry watched her go for several minutes. Once she was completely out of sight, he closed the window and returned to his reading.
The next morning Harry rose with the sun, as he did almost every day. It seemed that even in the past he still wasn't out of the habit.
The first thing that Harry noticed as he slipped out of bed was that Hedwig had returned and was resting in her cage. Harry assumed that Kreacher had let her in. Lying on Harry's bedside table was a letter, addressed just as the last one had been. A quick scan of its contents showed that it was indeed a reply notice from Ragnok, requesting to meet Harry at 10 in the morning that very day.
Harry couldn't stop himself from smirking slightly. Considering what he had planned to do today, the meeting would fit in perfectly with his schedule.
Harry spent the next half an hour getting ready and eating breakfast. Once that was done, he nodded farewell to Kreacher and Disapparated out Grimmauld Place, dressed in nondescript Muggle clothing.
When Harry opened his eyes he was standing in woodland clearing. Just standing there gave him a strange feeling as he clearly remembered the area, despite the fact that he'd never actually been there before. Before him stood a rickety old house that was half in ruins. The only truly recognizable part of it was the still-standing door with a rotting snake's corpse nailed to it.
It was the Gaunt's house. Or at least what was left of it after so many years. Harry was partly surprised that the snake's corpse was still there; it must have been the work of a preservation charm.
With just a moment's hesitation, Harry approached the house until he stood just before it. He was unsure about actually entering the building; it looked as though it would collapse at any moment. Finally, Harry settled on just pulling out his wand.
"Accio Peverell ring," he murmured. Instantaneously, a small golden ring came flying out of the wreckage. Harry released a sigh as he caught the ring in his hand; he'd initially been afraid that there would be an anti-summoning charm on the ring, but this had proved to be false.
As he tucked the ring away, Harry took a glance around the clearing that the Gaunt house was situated in. Nothing else seemed to be of interest to him however. A quick tempus charm told him that it was only 9:30, so Harry figured that he still had time to take care of one more thing before he had to head over to Gringotts for his meeting.
When Harry Disapparated again, this time he appeared in a very familiar place: The backyard of his relatives' home in Surrey. Moving quickly, he flattened himself against the wall of the house and then waited for a moment, hardly daring to breathe. Who knew who could still be in the house at the moment, and he did not want to run into Uncle Vernon. After a couple of minutes with nothing inside the house stirring, Harry finally let himself breath a sigh of relief.
"Xiuhcoatl?" Harry called out in parsletongue as he knelt down next to the house.
After just a moment, the Brazilian boa constrictor poked his head out. "Yes?" he replied.
"Are you ready to go to Hogwarts?"
"Finally! Yes, I definitely am. There are many mice here to eat, but I am eager to hunt in the forest."
Harry had to repress a chuckle at the thought of what Aunt Petunia's reaction would be if she heard that there were many mice under her house. "Alright then," Harry said. "Come onto my arm and I'll Apparate us to the Forbidden Forest."
Xiuhcoatl nodded his head once and then proceeded to slither his way up Harry's outstretched arm until he was firmly wrapped around Harry's shoulders and arm, with his head resting on Harry's left shoulder.
"Ready?" Harry hissed. The serpent nodded his head once and then the two disappeared with a quiet pop.
Just moments later found Harry standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, with the gates of Hogwarts looming in the distance. Harry had Apparated to just outside Hogwarts' Apparition wards.
Almost immediately, Xiuhcoatl dropped from Harry's arms and coiled himself onto the ground.
"Stay close to the edge of the forest," Harry instructed. "All of the really dangerous creatures are further inwards. Along the edge of the forest in that direction—" Harry pointed towards the castle, "You'll find a small hut in which a half giant, a large man, and his bloodhound live. I'll find you there in a few days, when school starts. Just be careful not to get caught; Brazilian boa constrictors aren't exactly common in these parts, not even in the Forbidden Forest."
Xiuhcoatl nodded once more. "No problem," he replied. "See you later." And with that he disappeared into the underbrush of the forest. After another moment, not even his slithering could be heard.
After leaving Hogwarts grounds, Harry returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. There, he changed into wizarding robes and a black cloak with a hood before Disapparating once more. This time however, his destination was Diagon Alley.
From the Alley, it took Harry only a minute to get to Gringotts. The streets weren't quite a crowded as they usually were, probably due to the time of the morning and because it was only a day before Hogwarts students had to leave. In fact, most of the people there were last minute shoppers.
Once inside the large bank, Harry quickly made his way towards a teller. Before he could reach one though, another goblin, dressed in the Gringotts' uniform, intercepted him.
"Please follow me, Lord Peverell-Black-Potter," the goblin murmured.
Harry blinked in surprise, but did as the goblin asked. The goblin led Harry down the long hallway that Harry had entered before when first enquiring about his key. This time, however, they continued all the way back until they reached the very end, where a large stone spiral staircase stood.
From there Harry and the goblin spent several minutes climbing the staircase, passing four different floors. Finally they stopped on the fifth floor, the top one, and the goblin proceeded to lead Harry down another long hallway. At the end of this hallway stood a pair of large double doors that had runic inscriptions completely covering them and two armed goblins standing on either side. The goblin, who was a few steps ahead of Harry, knocked soundly on these doors. This had to be the most important room above ground, Harry thought slightly numb.
"Enter," a rough voice called from inside.
Immediately, the two goblin guards grabbed a hold of the large silver door handles and pulled the doors open. The third goblin, Harry's guide, bowed Harry in. Once Harry stepped inside, alone, the doors closed soundly behind him, making the young wizard jump slightly.
The inside of the room, which Harry quickly realized was an office, was a fairly large, yet empty space. In fact, the only piece of furniture in the room was a large, imposing desk that was covered in piles of paper. The stone walls of the room were bare except for a five foot tall coat of arms situated directly behind the desk. The two crossed axes that made up the lower half of the coat were very real axes with pristine blades. Above the axes was some sort of strange symbol which Harry guessed was in Gobbledegook, the language of the goblins.
What caught Harry's attention though was not the size of the desk, the emptiness of the room, nor the daunting coat of arms. Rather, it was the rather stocky older goblin which sat behind the desk. A pair of round spectacles were perched on the goblins nose, but his face was also marred with numerous battle scars, making for an interesting contrast. He was bent over a piece of paper, quickly writing in Gobbydook.
As Harry approached the desk, the goblin did not look up nor make any sort of an indication that he knew someone else was in the room. He simple continued writing away on whatever paper was before him then transferred that paper to one of the piles before picking up another paper and starting the process all over again.
Harry repressed a chuckle. He could see exactly what the goblin was attempting to do with the setup of the office, and had to admit that it was working.
First of all, the office was completely bare, causing it to give off a cold and intimidating feeling to visitors. Second, there were no chairs in front of the desk. This forced any visitors to stand instead of relaxing, giving the goblin a slight upper hand in any dealings that might occur. Finally, by refusing to acknowledge the presence of anyone else until he was ready, the goblin was forcing visitors to either stand uncomfortably and feel inferior, or announce their own presence and take the risk of appearing rude. And considering exactly who was sitting behind the desk, very few people would actually take that risk.
Harry paused for a moment as he considered exactly how to approach the situation before him. There were several different attitudes that he could take concerning Ragnok the goblin and all of them had the chance of either turning for or against his favor.
One of the first attitudes that Harry could take was to simple wait until Ragnok was ready to receive him. This would be the safest action and would give Ragnok the respect that he was due as the leader of the goblins. At the same time however, this would also give Ragnok an upper hand in all of their following negotiations.
On the other hand, Harry could also establish himself on being equal to Ragnok by not waiting for him to acknowledge his presence. Harry was actually somewhat within his rights to do this, as he was the one who knew where Gryffindor's Sword was, while Gringotts had nothing to offer him, at least not at the moment. In that sense, Harry automatically had the upper hand.
The question was: Would Ragnok be careful in his handling of Harry due to what he had to offer? Or would he just demand that Harry hand over the sword since according to their laws it belonged to the goblins? The outcome of the situation depended on how Ragnok would react and what chances Harry was willing to take.
Harry repressed a sigh as he made his choice. Now that he'd made it though he'd go through with it, for better or for worse. And if there was one thing that Harry was known for, at least amongst his friends, it was that he never backed down.
A/N: So, a few people have asked how Harry is still the Black's magical heir, even though he went back in time. There actually is a logical explanation for this; it's not just something that I pulled out of thin air. The thing is...I can't explain it just yet, not without giving away a ton of stuff. So you'll just have to wait until Harry gets the explanation as well.
Thanks for your reviews!
[Shi]