Co-written with Stormypup

Disclaimer: See the Prologue

Beta'd by Rakina

Chapter One

That morning at breakfast Hedwig delivered a letter to Harry. He snatched the letter from her beak, let her take some of his bacon and then shooed her off. Hermione tipped her head to the side, and he decided to tell her what was going on the first moment he got the chance.

The letter was short, almost terse and only a few sentences long.

Harry,

I'll be there at ten. Be dressed and ready to go, make sure you eat all the food Molly puts in front of you. I don't know how late we'll be getting back.

"Who's that from, dear?" Molly asked, setting more eggs in front of him.

"Remus; he's going to be here at 10:00 to go with me to Gringotts," Harry said, folding the note and putting it in his pocket.

"Lucky you," Ron muttered.

"Morning," Ginny said, coming in to the kitchen and pulling up a chair next to Ron. "Hi, Harry," she added. Her smiled looked a bit forced and Harry knew that was his doing.

"Morning, Ginny," he answered.

"Well, you'd best finish up those eggs then," Molly instructed pointing her spatula at his plate. "Remus will be here in an hour."

"Are you leaving already?" Ginny asked, looking surprised.

Harry shook his head. "Just for the day, I suspect. I have to do some things in Diagon Alley."

"Want some company?" Ginny asked.

Harry felt very awkward. "Not this trip, I've got some things I have to take care of with Remus."

Ginny's smile was weak and Harry felt bad. He knew at some base level that pushing her away wasn't accomplishing anything more than keeping her close. He had no excuse anymore. He pushed his eggs around his plate with his fork, no longer hungry.

"Harry, eat," Hermione urged, eyeing his half-eaten food with a worried look.

Harry made a show of scooping up a large forkful of egg and cramming it into his mouth.

He hadn't had a chance to even speak to Hermione alone for five minutes yet this morning and she was already fussing over him. He suddenly couldn't wait to leave with Remus.

Twenty minutes later, he was dressed, well fed and nervously pacing the Weasley's living room. Something about the terse nature of Remus' letter had him bothered. He was certain that if the entire thing was a ploy by Voldemort Remus would have been direct about it, but for some reason the letter had seemed edgy and worried.

He stopped and looked at his watch and saw that there were still four minutes left.

"Relax, Harry."

Brown eyes stared at him plaintively from his best friend's face and he sighed. Hermione enveloped him in a gentle hug, which he reciprocated without much thought. He had finally got a chance to tell her what was going on and she had tried to reason with him that inheritances happened all the time. Some happened upon the person's death like Sirius', but some were held until the adults felt the child receiving it had reached the right age. But still, Harry couldn't imagine why someone hadn't told him that his family controlled an entire county in Scotland. The entire thing was insane!

"Do you think Ron's gonna be mad that I haven't told him yet?"

"There really isn't much to tell, is there?" Hermione said, matter-of-factly. "Once you find out what's going on for sure, then tell him."

Harry grinned, tugging a lock of her curly brown hair. "Thanks, Hermione."

"You're welcome; just don't put it off too long once you get back. You know how Ron can get."

"Yeah, I know."

"Harry, Remus is here!" Molly shouted from the other room.

"Gotta go, see you this afternoon," Harry said, smiling nervously before going to meet Remus.

The Goblins at Gringotts seemed more obliging that day, or perhaps Harry was just less wary of them and more determined to get things done. Either way, Harry with Remus beside him was careening down the tunnels in the mine cart, the familiar nausea only a background thought to what Remus had told him earlier.

Apparently the inheritance wasn't a fraud. James had received it upon his parents' death during the first war right before marrying Lily. They never really looked into it, and never got the time to either before they were forced into hiding and then killed.

When they opened up the vault, Harry nearly staggered backward at the sheer volume of gold and various rolled up scrolls of parchment.

"I swear it's grown since your father inherited it," Remus said, smiling at Harry.

"I don't want it," was the first thing Harry thought to say, followed quickly by, "Why are there parchments in here?"

"I don't know exactly, your parents never had time to go through them all. That's why I told you to eat well; I thought we might be here for some time."

"Great," Harry murmured.

Remus rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "Come now, it's not all bad. We'll start in the back and make our way forward."

"What are we looking for exactly?" Harry asked as they headed deeper into the vault.

"I don't know, but I'm sure we'll know when we find it," Remus said, grinning.

"Should have made Hermione come too," Harry said, entering the vault and stepping past and around coins. He reached for a scroll and began to read.

It talked about the properties he now owned. Harry set it aside to read later when he got back to the Burrow. Some of the technical jargon made his head ache. The next few pieces of parchment Harry found were no less interesting, and Harry managed to gather just why he was so rich. He discovered that a long while back his grandparents had invested in a few companies that had taken off in the Muggle world and all their profits had been transferred through Gringotts.

It wasn't until an hour later that Harry stumbled upon a beaten up journal. He picked it up and a shiver shot up his arm. He dropped it immediately.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?" Remus asked, looking up from the scroll he was reading.

"This journal kinda...shocked me," Harry said, rubbing his arm.

"Shocked you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, like a static shock."

"It didn't hurt you, did it?" Remus questioned, bending over to examine the old journal.

"No, just shocked me, and it didn't feel bad, just weird."

Remus cast a few spells. "There's nothing more on here than a protection spell and a few privacy ones. I'm assuming if I touched it, it may hurt at worst and best be blank when I opened it."

"Should I try and open it?" Harry asked as he picked it up; this time the shock didn't startle him. He ran a thumb down the spine with a small frown. The last time he had hold of someone else's journal it had been Tom Riddle's. But it was a strange thought that one of his ancestors might have kept the same sort of object. Stupid, in fact.

"Go ahead, Harry."

Harry swallowed thickly and turned it over in his hands a few times before opening it. Immediately, spindly handwriting began to form across the pages and Harry almost dropped it in surprise.

"What's the date of the entry?" Remus' queried gently. Harry could practically feel the intrigue from the werewolf and he glanced at the top corner, pushing down the piece of parchment with his thumb as he tried to make out the date. His eyes widened a bit when he finally managed to make out the year.

"April 1567. Is it possible for it to be that old?"

"Yes, it's very possible," Remus said, moving to look over Harry's shoulder. "This is amazing, Harry!"

Harry wasn't sure what was so amazing about it, other than it was extremely old.

"What do you mean?"

"This is probably the journal of one of your Tudor ancestors," Remus exclaimed, and Harry could see he was almost itching to get his hands on it so he could read it all.

"Oh." Harry had to fight with himself to not admit that he really had no interest in his ancestors. There were more important things he wanted to learn about – like his more immediate ancestors, the ones he might have been able to meet, not the ones that stories and legends could have been written about.

"Maybe if I give it you myself, it will let you hold it," Harry said hopefully.

"I'd rather not take the chance of harming it," Remus said, holding up his hands. "I think you'll find it more interesting than you think," he encouraged.

"Come on Remus, please?"

Remus smiled. "Look at it this way. Even if I do read it for you, that just means you have to keep going through all these scrolls," he said, motioning to the seemingly never-ending piles of parchment.

"Right, I'll just be over there reading this then," Harry said, pointing towards the blank space in the vault.

"Good boy," Remus said, returning to the pile of scrolls he had been reading. "Let me know if there's anything interesting in there."

"If I can make out the handwriting it's a sure thing."

Remus snorted and left Harry to it.

Harry settled himself into the blank spot on the floor, his back pressed against the cold wall of the vault. Crossing his legs, he opened the journal and laid it across his lap. He tried to wrap his mind around the date. There were people in the world, he knew, who would love to get their hands on a primary source this old.

Fingering the page again, Harry squinted at the text and slowly began to read.

April 1567

Thelonious was acting oddly this morning. I have no worldly idea why he would be. Perhaps it is just the lingering dread of my father's death, but that seems strange even to me. After all, it was my father, not his, who is perilously close to death. He has been cold to me for most of the day and it is becoming infuriating.

I wonder if perhaps he thinks I will change if my father does indeed die. I am in no way ready for the responsibility that will fall on my shoulders when he does. The world is a tumultuous place and I want nothing to do with it. If it were allowed, I would suggest my younger brother take my place. He always seemed to enjoy being in charge.

Alas, there is nothing more I can do about the situation at hand. I do not think I could stand losing Thelonious to his own idiotic thoughts and feelings at the same time I lose my father. I doubt I shall be able to endure going through the bereavement and the coronation without at least knowing he doesn't hate me.

He's looking at me right now and I cannot determine what he is thinking. Those dark eyes of his never let any emotion shine through anymore. Not since his mother died. I miss my childhood friend who used to tease the servant girls with me. I miss the friend who would help me escape from my younger brother and who would run into the forest with me at a whim. I miss him, and it has only been a day. What will another feel like?

Harry sat back, looking thoughtfully at the scrawl on the pages. He had one name now, Thelonious, though it wasn't much to go on. Harry found himself drawn to the next page, curious to see what was going to happen next.

The date wasn't any different than the page before, just the month and the year. Harry readjusted his glasses, and began to read once more.

He hates me. That is all there is to it. He will not speak to me, he will not look at me. I have no idea what I feel if I am feeling at all. He hates me; the thought hurts more than it should, far more than it should.

I long to hear him say anything to me, even if it is just my name. But that is a fool's wish at best. I do not even know what made him hate me. To my own knowledge I have not changed, but it is clear that he despises me.

Helena laughed at me when I told her. She is such a dear. Mother seems to think so as well and I get the sense she may just let me marry her, or possibly make me marry her. I will not mind it as such. She is soft on the eyes and a welcome change to all the disaster going on around us.

Father is dying. I am finally willing to admit it. The healers have no idea how much longer he may live, but just looking at him gives me all the answer I need. He shall not see May. I am horrified to realize I know nothing about ruling this country, nothing. I regret never listening to my tutors and with the fear of rebellion strong amidst Muggles and wizards alike I do not think I will survive through the year. If Thelonious read this he would laugh and most likely strike me for it.

Two weeks. It has been two weeks and I wonder if I will hurt this much when father finally dies.

Harry eagerly turned to the next page.

May 1567

I wonder if I am a Seer.

Harry blinked and snorted – that was all the entry said. Glancing over at Remus, he saw the man's eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"What's wrong?" he asked into the quiet vault.

"You have a Manor house," Remus said, still reading through the document. "I don't think James had any idea, or he would have taken you and your mother there."

"Potter Manor?" Harry asked, curiosity piqued.

"I think this is somewhere in northern Scotland, but I'd have to look at a map to be sure. This is just mind boggling," Remus said, looking up at Harry. "Maybe it's because you're the last Potter left and James wasn't once he had you, because we had no idea."

"Why is it so hard to believe? I mean. I thought it was just something all rich people owned. A manor."

"It's not just a manor, Harry, it's a whole county. That means that manor and everything around it," Remus explained.

"But, how can you own a whole county?"

"I'm guessing it was given to your family by a monarchy, I just don't know which one."

Harry blinked for a few seconds and then stared down blankly at the second entry he had read, and after staring at it uncomprehendingly for a couple of seconds, passed out.

"Harry, come on now, wake up," Remus said, waiting for Harry's eyes to open. He had already cast Enervate on him, but Harry didn't seem to want to face the world just yet.

"Go 'way, Moony," Harry mumbled, pushing the tawny haired man away.

"At least I know you're alright," Remus said, chuckling. "Come on Harry, wake up or I'm taking you to St. Mungo's."

Harry turned his head and glared at the man. "You take me there and I'll hex your balls off."

"Now you sound like Sirius," Remus joked. "What happened and should I be concerned?" Remus was already concerned, but he knew if he fussed too much, Harry would refuse to do anything.

Harry held the journal tightly to his chest and then released it. "Can you read this?" Harry asked, holding up the text. He pointed one finger to the entry in question and waited.

Remus read though the entry quickly, then read it again. "The author was about to go through their coronation," Remus whispered. "If this is one of your ancestors..." he looked at Harry, whose eyes were wide.

"Then they were the one about to be king," Harry said, his mouth going dry. "So I wasn't wrong?"

"I can't say for sure, but it's more important than ever to read through all of this," he said, motioning to the all scrolls.

"Can I just stick to the journal?" he asked hopefully. "It's not like I understand any of that." He pointed at the remaining scrolls littering the vault. "It's more illegible than a Potions textbook."

"Continue on, I'm going to try and find something more official looking amongst this mess," Remus said, going back to his scrolls.

"Remus?"

"Hm?"

Harry bit his lip and bowed his head. "What happens if...I mean...what if my ancestor really was...?"

"I have no idea, maybe nothing other than you get your inheritance. We'll deal with the other when we know for sure what exactly the other is."

Harry nodded, and settled back into his original position. "Hey, Remus?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for coming with me. I know we haven't talked a lot, but...thanks."

"Anytime, Harry," Remus said, smiling.

Harry grinned and turned his attention back down to his ancestor's journal. He wondered who else had read these entries. Which one of his ancestors had read these words and come to the same realization he did. He pushed those thoughts to the side and went back to his reading.

May 1567

My father died yesterday. I cannot even describe the grief on my mother's face when we received the news. For a moment I feared she would go with him, but she did not. Thelonious stood in the shadows, but for the first time in weeks I could feel his eyes upon my back and it comforted me. I wish to speak with him. No, I need to speak with him. I cannot go another day without him pushing me along. My coronation is tomorrow and I dread going through it alone. I need someone by my side and as much as I enjoy the company of my fiancée. I wish for my best friend to be there as well.

I am finding myself running short on time. I have so many thoughts I wish I could write now, but it shall have to wait.

May 1567

It is official, I am now King Carlisle Liam James Potter IV. The Wizarding world rejoices, but I cannot find it in me. I never wished to be King. Thelonious, why won't you talk to me when I need you most?

Harry bit his lip. "Well, shit."

"Harry?"

"Malfoy's going to get a nosebleed if he finds this out," Harry said with a harsh laugh.

"What did you find?"

"King Carlisle Liam James Potter IV. That rather sums that up, doesn't it?" Harry said, not sure how he was supposed to feel.

Remus stared at him for a long moment, and Harry shifted under his gaze.

"Harry, have you learned about the revolution in History of Magic yet?"

Harry looked sheepish. "Probably, but Binns tends to drone on and I only hear about a quarter of what he says. I do know that Wizards chose to withdraw completely from the Muggles when they started getting weird ideas about witches." Remus looked uncomfortable. "Just spit it out Remus, you're making me nervous."

"What date did you say that journal was from?" Remus asked.

"1567, why?"

"Well, for one thing, the Revolution happened in 1570, so I'm imagining this Carlisle was at the heart of the action. The Wizarding world wished to do away with a Monarchy altogether, but there were some who would fight for their kind. If I had heard that king's name before, surely I would have recognized the similarities. But that's neither here nor there. The Monarchy was officially overthrown on December 28, so that the new ruling party could start their reign and the new order of things on the first day of the new year."

Harry nodded and knowing something about history from his early years still at the Dursley's he asked, "Are those who opposed the monarchy still out there?" Along with those who support it.

"I think the journal you're reading will make a fantastic timeline for us to work with. When you get to important looking dates, jot them down, will you," Remus told him.

"Can do," Harry said, looking at the narrative in his lap. This was huge, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand to get back to the mine car. His legs already felt like jelly and he hadn't even stood up yet.

"Alright, this just isn't going to do. It's time to call in the troops to help us get through all of this quicker. Harry, you could possibly be the last living Potter heir. I suggest we shrink the lot of it and go back to Molly's. At the very least get Hermione working on it too. I'm sure she'll pick up things that both of us miss."

Harry nodded in agreement and stood, using the wall as a support. He clutched the worn leather journal to his chest possessively and helped Remus shrink some of the scrolls and stuffed them into his pocket.

As they climbed back out of the vault and got into the mine cart, Harry let his mind drift to his ancestor and his supposed best friend. He could almost see them in his mind and was startled to realize that he truly wished to know more about their relationship than what had inevitably happened to Carlisle.

One uneventful Portkey trip later, they stood outside the Weasley's front door and knocked. When Molly opened the door, she ushered them inside. "Well that went faster than you thought it would," she said, smiling at the two of them.

"We gave up down there," Harry answered, giving her a lopsided smile. "We needed more eyes."

"For what dear?"

"Yeah, for what?" Ron asked.

Harry stared at his best friend for a second, before asking after Hermione. Ron didn't even get the chance to answer before the bushy-haired brunette came into the entryway.

"Can we move somewhere where we can sit down?"

"Yes, of course we can. Into the sitting room, the lot of you."

The three teenagers moved as one, afraid of incurring any unnecessary wrath from the matronly woman.

Remus wandered in behind them moving a bit more slowly. When everyone was settled in, Ron asked again, "What's going on, mate?"

Harry bowed his head, his fingers tracing the cracks in the leather of Carlisle's journal. "I-- Remus and I discovered something when we were in my parents' vault."

"What's in your hands, Harry?" Hermione asked, moving to settle beside him.

Harry looked over at her and grinned weakly. "It's Carlisle's journal."

"Carlis--WHAT?"

Harry winced.

"As in King Carlisle? Why did I never connect those before?!" she cried.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it's because the idea of me being royalty is absolutely insane?"

"Royalty?" Ron asked, his surprise evident.

"Well, maybe not royalty, but still," Harry assured, having his own doubts about the entire thing.

"Start at the beginning, Harry," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not sure there is a clear beginning. I mean...all I know is what this journal has been telling me." He shook it for emphasis and sighed. "I haven't even read half of it yet."

"Which brings us to our next problem," Remus said, pulling all of the shrunken scrolls out of his pocket and enlarging them.

"Blimey," Ron said, eyes wide at the sheer mass of them.

"My pockets are full too," Harry said. "Mrs. Weasley, I know you're getting ready for the wedding and everything, but can we use this room to go through all this today? It would mean stealing Hermione for a bit."

Ron elbowed Harry.

"And Ron," he added quickly.

"I'll send them all out to help the moment we're done, Molly," Remus assured her.

Molly glared at the three teenagers and then bobbed her head. "All right. But I'll expect you all to help me degnome the garden tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Mrs Weasley," Harry and Hermione answered, followed by Ron's sullen, "Yes, mum."

Remus clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "Let's get on with it then!"