Harry Potter characters do not belong to me but to J.K. Rowling.
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In Terms of a Name
By Taliya
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Chapter V: Understanding the Now
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A ghostly apparition appeared before Harry, bowed and said in an echoing tone, "Greetings, Lord Potter."
Harry did a double take. "Dad?"
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The apparition of James Potter blinked. "Have we met before?"
Harry sucked in a breath. "Yes," he replied softly, "We have, although I don't remember it. Fifteen years ago."
James cocked his head quizzically. "When was that?"
"When I was one year old," Harry replied, his voice wavering. "Hello, Dad."
"Harry?" James breathed, "Is it really you?"
Harry gazed at his father, memorizing every line of his face, every nuance of his voice. It was all he could do to swallow thickly and nod.
James inhaled deeply and managed a sorrowful smile. "Hello, kiddo. You've—you've grown so much I hardly recognized you. But, seeing you now, how could I forget your mother's eyes when you have them?"
"Where's Mum?" Harry asked, his heart pounding. Could he meet his mother this way too?
Harry's cautious eagerness must have shone in his eyes, for the desolate smile on his father's face faded. "Your mother was not asked to make a record of herself like I was. I recorded myself to greet the new Lord Potter, just as my forefathers did before me in case we died beforehand, updating the recordings as needed. I never thought I—we—would not live to see our son grow up…" The replica of James reached out to cup Harry's cheek, only have his hand drift through his son's jaw. Harry did not even feel it.
Pearlescent tears gathered in the corners of James' eyes as he watched Harry duck his head. Harry's hands, hidden in the sleeves of his robes, were clenched hard enough that the claw-like fingernails he possessed speared themselves through his palm. Drops of vermillion painted the rock floor. His entire frame shook with emotion.
Groblink waited uneasily for an opening to excuse himself. Finding it, he hastily wrote Harry a note instructing him how to signal for goblin assistance or signal for a cart to leave. He then left, the vault doors sliding shut with a soft thump.
"Harry?" James whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Harry, son, look at me."
Harry raised his head to meet the teary eyes of his father.
"You've grown so much," he murmured softly, stretching out his hand to touch his son's face, yet withdrawing it at the last moment, realizing how utterly painful it was to be intangible. "I—" he choked, "I'm sorry."
Harry drew in a shaky breath. "Sorry for what?"
"For leaving you as early as I did. For abandoning you." He paused, visibly gathering courage for what he wanted to say next. "How did we die, Lily and I?" he asked quietly, apprehension rolling off of him.
The Boy-Who-Lived swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching with the suppressed emotions. "Voldemort… he came to Godric's Hollow on the Halloween when I was a year old. Wormtail had betrayed your location to him. He was a supporter of Voldemort. You tried… you tried to fend him off as Mum hid me. He found her and… and…"
Seeing the distress written across his son's face, James hushed Harry gently, telling him that it was all right; he did not have to finish narrating the tale. To distract themselves, James began to explain what it meant to be Lord Potter. In addition to the financial aspects, there were also the three separate estates the Potters owned, scattered across Great Britain: Manchester, England, Aberdeen, Scotland, and Cardiff, Wales, plus the one vacation estate they owned in Florence, Italy. James also told Harry how to make his ring invisible if he did not want to display it, since he could no longer take it off. Harry strolled about the vault as James tagged along, explaining the significance of whatever happened to catch his son's eye.
As Harry reached out to pluck a sword off its rest, a soft chime sounded. Turning towards the sound, a phantom ribbon slithered from nowhere and began curling itself into a message.
It is fifteen minutes to the hour. Please meet Groblink to be escorted to the hearing of the Last Will and Testament of Sirius Black.
James' already pallid complexion paled even more upon reading the message. "Sirius is… is… dead?"
Harry nodded glumly. "Yes, Sirius is dead."
The statement was so final, so detached, that Harry could not help but wince at the cold truth of it. James looked as though he had been hit sidelong with the Hogwarts Express. "No… he can't have died…"
Harry looked at his father with guilt and remorse written plainly on his face. "Sirius died because of me," he whispered, his heart clenching painfully with the admission. "He came after me to rescue me. It's all my fault!"
James sidled up as close as he could to Harry without touching him, bending awkwardly to look into his son's face. "Harry, if Sirius came after you with the intention of rescuing you, then it is by no means your fault! He was your godfather, and as such, he felt it was his duty to protect you. Don't blame yourself!"
Harry looked into his father's eyes, seeing the deep, raw pain resulting from seeing his grown son and hearing that one of his best friends was dead.
Taking a steadying breath, James closed his eyes and remarked shakily, "You better go, Harry. You don't want to be late." He opened his eyes, drinking in the image of his now sixteen-year-old son. "Go," he verbally nudged.
Harry nodded. "I'll be back," he promised. "I'll be back to t-tell you more of what happened. You deserve to know."
James gave a ghost of a smile. "Go."
Harry left.
"That's my boy." The statement rang softly in the cavernous vault.
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He was finally his complete, wholesome self again, and pleased. Nagini had summoned Wormtail, who then spent over two hours painstakingly plucking each and every splinter in the Dark Lord's fingers. After several healing spells, Wormtail was warned, under pain of death, to never mention the situation to anyone. Wormtail had readily agreed, and scurried out the room as soon as he was dismissed.
Glancing at the clock that sat on the mantelpiece, he noted that it read four twenty-six in the morning. His blasted Death Eaters had taken hours to awaken, and only then was Nagini able to rope Wormtail into repairing his body. The idea that he should ease off on his faithful momentarily flitted through his mind. He quickly dismissed the idea. After all, how could he be a feared Dark Lord if he was soft on his followers?
Voldemort stared into the fire. Fire destroyed, burned, killed. He watched the tongues of flame, his mind conjuring multiple ways of crippling his opposition: namely, Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter. The Dementors were already a great asset to him. He had recently garnered the support of the giants and the werewolves. He could call up any number of Inferi that suited his needs as well. He grinned darkly. Already it seemed as though he had sheer strength in numbers. He allowed his mind to drift off with several possibilities of raids, sieges, ambushes, and massacres, all the while gazing into the crackling fire.
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Harry rode the cart back to the Gringotts lobby by himself after carefully reading the instructions on how to get back. He did not dare try Slipping or Streaming—he was unsure of how the wards here in Gringotts would react to such transportation. Pulling his hood back over his head, he entered the lobby and strode swiftly to Groblink's office. The goblin was waiting expectantly, and nodded upon his entrance. "Shall I announce your presence to the assembled?" he asked.
"I'd much rather you not," Harry replied, thinking of who might be already gathered. "Please, if there are introductions to be made, I'd like to be introduced as a representative of Lord Potter; not as Lord Potter himself—I'd rather not have everyone know that I've just received my inheritance. On a different note, could it be made so that no one is aware of my account activities?" It is, he continued in his mind, a breach of privacy.
"But of course, sir," the goblin said. "I will personally see to it and seek out who allowed such a breach to happen." Groblink frowned to himself. "Also, there is another vault that you seem to have recently inherited as well. Please see me about that some time," the goblin said as he led Harry through a set of double doors, opening to a room with a long, rectangular table. Seated about the table were Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco Malfoy, Nymphadora Tonks, affectionately known as plain "Tonks", and a stately woman that resembled Tonks. Harry guessed that the woman was Andromeda, Sirius' disowned cousin. Today Tonks sported a periwinkle bob.
Harry swept in behind Groblink, face obscured and clothed in embroidered black robes that screamed of wealth. Hermione, Ron, Remus, Tonks, and Andromeda shifted uneasily upon his entrance, while Narcissa and Draco looked at him curiously.
"Who are you?" Ron asked brazenly, his voice tinged with animosity.
Oh, no, they will recognize my voice! I wish I could change it! Harry thought, panicky, unconsciously fingering his sword. Taking a chance he replied, "A representative of Lord Potter."
Harry was both surprised and immensely relieved that somehow he had managed to change his voice from a light tenor to a rich baritone.
"Potter? Would you, by any chance, know where Harry Potter is?" Hermione asked quickly, hope blossoming on her face. Remus and Ron, too, had looks identical to Hermione's. The expression made Harry's own brows furrow as he frowned. They can't know who or what I am just yet.
"Potter? Coming here? Ha! What would he get from Black?" sneered Draco, "He's not related at all to the Black family!"
Before Ron could make a reply, Groblink cleared his throat. "We are gathered here to read the Last Will and Testament of Sirius Black," he announced. Harry settled himself in a shadowy corner of the room. Placing a carved black box on the table, the goblin opened the lid and stood back. An apparition, much like the one of James, wafted upwards. Sirius fully emerged from the box, a roll of parchment in his hand.
Sirius gazed at the gathered people, assessing them. "So I've upped and kicked the bucket, eh?" he quipped. "Would've happened sooner or later. Anyway, you are all here to see what I'll dole out to each of you. So here goes!"
Unrolling the parchment, he began reading:
"I, Sirius Black, of sound body and mind, dictate this will and testament valid in the administrative area of Greater London, England.
"I hereby give and bequeath, to Hermione Granger and her family, the total sum of five-thousand Galleons.
"I hereby give and bequeath, to Ronald Weasley and his family, the total sum of five-thousand Galleons.
"I hereby give and bequeath, to my good friend Remus Lupin, the northern estate in Edinburgh, Scotland, plus one quarter of the total Black fortune, equivalent to approximately eight million Galleons.
'I hereby give and bequeath, to my favorite cousin Andromeda Tonks, her daughter, Nymphadora Tonks, and their family the summer estate in Leeds, England, plus one quarter of the total Black fortune, equivalent to approximately eight million Galleons.
"I hereby give and bequeath, to my cousin Narcissa Malfoy, her son, Draco Malfoy, and their family, the total sum of nothing, which equals a nice, round goose egg.
"And lastly, I hereby give and bequeath, to my Godson Harry James Potter, the Most Ancient House of Black's residency in London, England, and all its possessions herein, plus the three other estates in Gloucester, England, Birmingham, England, and Paris, France, and the remaining half of the Black fortune, equivalent to approximately sixteen million Galleons.
"The actual total sums can be procured upon request from Great Britain Gringotts Branch Manager, Groblink.
"Signed by Sirius Black, heir of the Black family this second of September, 1995 Anno Domini."
The apparition of Sirius rolled up the parchment and drifted back into the carved black box. Groblink gently closed the lid.
Harry privately wondered when and how Sirius had managed to change his will, considering at the time—and even now—he was still a convict by the Ministry of Magic and that, to his knowledge, upon his arrest, had frozen all of his assets. Obviously the latter was not true, if he had managed to buy a Firebolt of all things for Harry's belated birthday present in his Third Year. He supposed that since Gringotts was not under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic, they had not frozen his assets.
"That is the most bollixed up will I've ever heard!"
All present started at the bold statement and stared at the young Malfoy. The usually dignified youth had pink splotches across his cheeks, most likely due to his anger at not receiving anything at all.
"Come, Draco," Narcissa said with a sniff, "Let us not linger with the commoners for more than we must." She imperiously stood and left, her robes sweeping behind her. Draco shot the others a parting sneer.
Seeing that the will reading was over, Harry quickly made an exit, his black robe flaring out behind him.
"Wait!"
Mentally cursing, Harry halted, his robes pooling about his feet.
The pattering of feet slowed; Harry counted four pairs. "Please," began a voice that he identified as Hermione's, "Can you tell us where Harry Potter is?"
Swallowing, Harry turned to face Hermione, Ron, Remus, and Tonks. "I am not allowed to say," responded Harry, playing the part of a servant of Lord Potter, "I will, however, disclose to you that Lord Potter is safe and well."
"Can you deliver a message for us if you indeed serve Harry?" asked Remus.
Harry inclined his head.
"Please inform Harry that we wish he would come back to us, and that we miss him greatly."
"I will do so." Turning, Harry walked away from his friends with a decidedly heavy step.
The four watched the dark-clad figure disappear in the throng of people in the Gringotts lobby. "I hope Harry's alright," Hermione murmured, worrying her lower lip.
"He'll be fine, Hermione," Ron said, "He always is in the end."
Remus and Tonks shared worried glances.
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Harry retreated to the dimension where the Fortress of Dark was built. The Fortress itself was built on a hill in the center of a spacious valley, surrounded by jagged, ice-covered mountains. Overhead, a vast cloudless sky loomed, studded with millions upon millions of stars, lending all the light he needed to see. He roamed about the lands outside, noticing how he could see everything, yet the landscape was not illuminated. Various dark creatures roamed about, one of each: a sleek onyx dragon with large, leathery wings, a large-sized black panther, a great black wolf with gray-tipped fur, and a magnificent black stallion with silver hoofs, all three of which had black-plumed wings. Dementors milled about as well. They were all larger than he was tall. They were beautiful. They all bowed with respect as he strolled through the lands towards them. The Lands of Eternal Night were his, and these intelligent creatures understood that he was their Lord Sovereign.
"Please rise. Good evening to you all," he addressed the assembly with a small amount of apprehension. "Let me first say that I am new at this sovereign thing, and that if I screw up, please don't eat me."
A rumble of amusement swept through the creatures.
The stallion spoke, "We would never harm our Lord. We all serve to provide different means of transportation for you. It is our collective pride and joy to serve you. We all are able to travel between this world and the one you hail from. We have different abilities that are to aid you in any way." The horse bared its teeth in what could be aptly described as a sneer. "We all are able to efficiently intimidate those who oppose you."
Harry nodded. "Ah, I see. Can I call you up from the other realm?"
"Yes. We can travel to and fro with ease," the wolf replied.
After a moment of thinking, Harry asked them another question. "What are your names?"
The dragon responded, "We have no names. You just have to call out the adjective 'Black' before the type of animal we are. Names are not important; only what we embody, what we represent, are important."
Harry smiled. "I am pleased to have met you all. I intend to wage war against a dark lord, and would be honored if you all would join me in my cause."
"You need do nothing but ask," the panther said as the assembled creatures bowed again in unison.
Harry walked forwards, stretching his hand out to pet the panther, which was taller than he. The panther purred under his touch. The wolf gently nuzzled his other hand, asking for the same ministrations he was currently giving the oversized feline. The animals cautiously gathered around the diminutively-sized human with satisfaction. It felt good to them to have a Lord again.
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Albus Dumbledore was currently seated in his office, humming a ditty while doing paperwork. A chime sounded, indicating to him that someone had given the password to the stone gargoyle that protected the Headmaster's Tower. Setting the papers neatly aside, he watched as a small puff of smoke formed letters of two names. The smoke dispersed with the knocking on the door.
"Come in, Remus, Nymphadora," the Headmaster invited.
"You know, I wish you would call me 'Tonks' like everyone else," the female Auror grumbled.
Dumbledore simply continued smiling jovially. Neatly stacking his papers off to a corner of his desk, he bade them sit in the squashy red armchairs. "What can I do for you this evening?"
Cutting right to the chase, Remus began expressing his thoughts. "Albus, we went to the reading of the Last Will and Testament of Sirius, and there appeared a hooded man that said he was—and I quote—'a representative of Lord Potter'. Hermione asked if he could tell us where Harry was, if he was of any relation to begin with, and he said that he was not allowed to say. He did not mention anything about being related to Harry, but I asked if he could pass on a message to Harry if it is indeed him. The message itself is unimportant. I would have been inclined to believe that Lord Potter is Harry, but the dress of the representative dissuaded me of the idea."
"How is that?" asked the Headmaster.
"Well," started Remus, "He wore robes blacker than anything I've ever seen, stitched with silver embroidery. The clasp of his cloak was animated silver depicting smoke. His face was completely hidden from view. I would have guessed that this Lord Potter was dark."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, thumb and index finger thoughtfully stroking his beard-covered chin. "I have not heard of any mention of a Lord Potter. There has been no indication of activity of that sort in Harry's accounts, so it would be safe to assume that it is not him. However, we cannot discount the possibility that it is indeed Harry."
"How are we to broach this?" asked Tonks, folding her arms as she thought.
"Well, I suppose we make friendly overtures, considering we do not know much about him. However, I myself would wait to see if we are able to gather more information about Lord Potter. After we have sufficient data, we make our move."
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"I've got it!" Harry crowed, scaring himself with the noise he made upon waking up. Blinking his eyes, he gazed upon the elegant interior Master Suite of the Potter Estate in Manchester. Giddily, he got out of bed and dressed, all the while organizing his mind into the necessary "compartments" needed for Occlumency. That particular night's sleep had somehow allowed his mind to consolidate the memories of how to Occlude his mind and his seeming "block." With a single sweep of his hand and the wish that the room would be clean and tidy, it came into being. Harry was quite happy with the fact that he now did not need a wand nor need an incantation to practice magic. Stretching, he got up and adjusted the sword still attached to his hip. Harry had not noticed it as he slept; he figured that some sort of charm had been placed on it increasing one's comfort when worn—or rather, in his case, slept on. Stepping out into the hallway, he encountered a Dementor guard.
"Good morning, my Liege," it greeted with a bow. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine, actually," Harry replied. "I don't need a mentor for Occlumency anymore. I figured it out in my sleep," he said happily. Harry headed for the great room, the Dementor in tow. "Tell me," he began after some pondering. "What are you? I'm not trying to be rude or anything," he babbled, "But what are Dementors? How did all you come to be?"
"We Dementors," the Dementor started, "We were once witches and wizards like yourself. We were the ones that had no happiness in our lives. We were the ones that were for most of our lives angry and bitter. We abused others, taking out anger and resentment out on them. It is for this very last transgression that we were doomed to an eternity of searching for peace. Our souls never moved on, continuing on this plane in these rotting carcasses, leaving us wanting, thirsting for what we may never have. We take what happiness where we can to appease the hollow emptiness within us, we take souls so that we may, for a moment, revel in the joy, happiness, and love of that soul that we ourselves had never experienced alive. Selfish, yes, but it is truth."
"You said you 'come and go out of existence'. How does that work?" Harry asked as he settled into a couch in the great room. Waving his hand, he conjured a tea set and complementary biscuits. Helping himself to the tea and biscuits, he gestured for the Dementor to make itself comfortable in the other chairs. The Dementor declined politely.
"With you here to feed us, we can all remain in this dimension. It is a cycle. During happy times, we flourish, and multiply. However, when there are too many of us feeding, the humans become depressed and the happy emotions become scarce. Unhappiness becomes prevalent, leading to wars and depressions. During these times, some of us will fade and meld with the shadows, unaware of the passage of time, only aware of the blackness. When happy emotions begin to build up, we come out of the shadows. Our redemption comes in the form of restraint: restraint from taking souls freely and willingly. If we are able to abstain from taking souls for a certain amount of time, then we are allowed to pass on. It is a goal we all hope to reach after lifetimes of suffering, although your Ministry of Magic interferes with this goal."
Harry gazed at the cloaked figure before him with sadness. "I'm so sorry."
The Dementor nodded but waved it off with, "It is our punishment and atonement."
"So why is it that you run away from Patroni?" asked Harry.
"Patroni are, as you know, created by happy, positive emotions. When concentrated as such, we are drawn to it and repelled by it. Drawn because we yearn for such feelings, yet repelled simply because of the sheer strength of the happiness. It is so concentrated that it is physically painful to us. We flee from it because of its potency." The Dementor seemed to sigh. "It is simply the physical manifestation of what we never had and never will have."
Harry could say nothing in reply. Giving the Dementor a sad nod, he stood up and cleared away the tea set.
Harry spent the day in the Lands of Eternal Night, getting to know his charges better and at the same time learning how to ride them in such a manner that he appeared confident and powerful. Most of his time was spent getting knocked onto his bum as they practiced the more complicated battle maneuvers. The simple riding he had down pat in no time. Getting to ride giant winged stallions, panthers, wolves, and dragons was what Harry most definitely considered a perk of his station.
Deciding to go back to the other realm, Harry bade his new friends goodbye and Slipped.
He appeared in a small alley in Diagon Alley. Making sure that his hood was on and that he was not either glowing or giving off the black smoke, he strode out into the midmorning sunlight. He quickly ducked back into the alley as a brown owl landed on his shoulder, an envelope tied to its leg. He took the letter off, shuddering at his black pointed nails. He carefully and gently stroked the bird, promising it treats as he gave a precursory glance over the unopened envelope. Tucking it into a pocket, he headed for Eeylops Owl Emporium, where he bought a small bag of treats and stepped outside the shop. Making sure he was not in the main walking area, he was able to change his nails, reverting them to what his fingers were like previously. He grinned, extremely thankful that he did not need a wand as he gave a few of the treats to the patiently waiting owl. Thinking of his wand, he frowned as he pulled out the letter.
It was simply addressed in the familiar glittering green ink.
Harry Potter
Nothing else. He supposed that with his moving about, either voluntarily or not, the letter had no address, only a name. Shrugging, he broke the wax seal emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest and opened the letter.
Mr. Potter,
We hope you are currently doing well and that this owl finds you safe and sound. Due to the trial held on the 21st of July, 1996, and its subsequent verdict, we regret to inform you that you have been expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While we understand that you were not to blame, we are currently unable to continue your schooling due to interference from the Ministry of Magic. Included is a list of the Sixth Year books and equipment that you would need had you not been expelled. We hope you continue your learning and await the day you are declared innocent of the crimes.
Regretfully,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Indeed there was included a list of needed school supplies and equipment for all Sixth Years. There was also another letter nestled within the envelope, written in the loopy handwriting that Harry recognized as the Headmaster's.
Harry,
I am first and foremost hopeful that you are safe, healthy, and sound, and that this letter reaches you with relative ease. I know you are innocent of the crimes you were accused of, regardless of your testimony. You were judged by your actions, not by your intent, something that the Wizengamot, nudged along by Minister Fudge and Auror Scrimgeour, did not consider. If you need sanctuary, I am able to secretly grant you this at Hogwarts, should you need it.
Harry pondered Professor Dumbledore's note. He now had a safe haven in Hogwarts, were he so inclined. Harry knew that Dumbledore's extending of the offer was extremely risky and had many severe consequences if the Ministry found out. He was warmed by the elderly professor's offer, and vowed to take up the invitation only as a last resort.
Scanning the list, he made a beeline for Flourish & Blott's, where he bought Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, Quintessence: A Quest, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6, Confronting the Faceless, Advanced Potion-Making, and Flesh-Eating Trees of the World, all books that he would have needed had he still been a student. He also snagged several other books on modern potions, advanced transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, charms, and herbology, as well as titles on rituals, animagi, and the darker aspects of magic. One could never be too prepared when dealt the task of taking down Lord Voldemort, even with lifetimes of experience and knowledge. Harry knew that Voldemort would test him in ways that had never been done in all of mankind, and he needed to be ready for it. From there, he paid a visit to the apothecary and the stationary shop. Finished with the shopping list, he shrunk all his purchases and slipped them into a pocket in his robes as he debated on whether or not to get himself a new wand.
Considering that he was no longer attending Hogwarts, it was reasonable to say that Harry no longer needed a wand. He did, after all, understood and used wandless magic. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided a wand was not necessary. Besides, he thought with a smirk, no one can disarm me if I have nothing to be disarmed from. However, if I visit Hogwarts, they will expect me to use a wand. I don't want to reveal my talents just yet.
Deciding to build a wand himself, Harry headed for Madam Malkin's for his last stop. He bought several different types of clothes: an assortment of everyday robes and clothing, both of which were dyed with in dark, rich tones. He debated getting grundies, but decided that Muggle grundies worked better overall. Recalling Groblink's comment about recently inheriting another vault, he wearily trudged back to the goblin-run bank. The early evening customers quickly scurried away from the darkly clothed figure. After politely requesting a meeting with Groblink, Harry was once again found waiting in the same room as earlier.
"Ah, you have come, Mr. Potter," Groblink greeted. "You come, no doubt, to inquire about the new vault you recently inherited."
"Yes, I am here to ask about that," Harry replied. In his mind, brief burst of memories flashed through his mind, giving him vague impressions of a cave of sorts, covered with metallic objects along its walls.
Groblink lead Harry down to the mine carts. After a long, twisting ride, they ended up screeching to a halt before an unlabeled vault. Harry stepped out of the cart and gazed at the vault door. It was a plain, flawless slab of polished black obsidian. Furrowing his brow, he glanced at Groblink.
"This vault has not been opened within the past few centuries," the goblin answered to his look, "The knowledge of how to open it has been lost."
Swallowing nervously, Harry stepped cautiously forward. From the centre of the obsidian block came forth the face of a snarling dragon, its face bound seamlessly to the stone. It snapped at Harry, who narrowly missed the knife-like teeth.
"Who dares disturb this vault?" the dragonhead growled thunderously.
"I, Harry James Potter, dare disturb your slumber," he responded, pleased with the fact that his voice did not betray his roiling stomach with a quiver.
The dragonhead reached out to snuffle him, blowing cold breaths against his body, not unlike the sensation felt when encountering a Dementor as a human. The reptilian retreated a small distance, eyeing Harry with its reflective black eyes. Harry suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable; the eyes seemed to penetrate each and every defense he had, both mental and physical. The eyes sought the necklace, the sword, the cloak clasp, and lastly, his mind and soul.
After what felt like an eternity of scrutiny, the dragonhead finally deemed Harry satisfactory.
"My Liege, you are welcome to enter the Vault of the Dark Heirs." The dragonhead finished with what was unmistakably a bow before melting back into the obsidian. The black slab seemed to melt away revealing a dimly lit cavern. Harry warily entered, the goblin wisely choosing to remain behind. He had heard the tales of what was inside, and was not eager to accidentally inflict insanity on himself.
Harry glanced around. The cave was more of an armory, filled with assorted weapons of every type specially keyed to him alone. Each one had labels, indicating what would happen to a being if inflicted with an injury from said weapon. A precursory glance revealed that most inflicted psychological damage. He noticed a small silver orb that rested on a prop along a wall. Its card stated that it summoned darkness itself, and allowed the owner to call upon in and trap victims within, rendering them blind and deaf to the world.
Along with the assorted weaponry, there was also a crystal bottle with a black liquid inside. The label was different from all the others, and Harry somehow knew this was the only non-destructive object in the entire vault. The liquid would restore the souls of those who had been Kissed, provided the body was still alive. The souls that Dementors took remained within them, trapped for all eternity unless the Dementor in question was finally allowed to move on. Then, those souls would be able to move on as well. The liquid, christened the Elixir of Reawakening, was not able to restore the souls from those Kissed by a particular being: the Lord Sovereign of Darkness. The Lord Sovereign of Darkness, if he so deigned to Kiss someone, did not only take the person's soul. Instead of trapping the soul within the body, the soul was destroyed entirely.
After inspecting the contents of the vault, Harry exited and watched the slab materialize into place. Nodding briskly to Groblink, Harry stepped in to the mine cart with the goblin and began the journey back to the surface.
Harry sighed as he left the bank. Finished with his foray into Diagon Alley, Harry ducked into Knockturn Alley and Slipped into the shadows.
---
Another chapter done. Shorter than usual, yes, but I've been cursed with writer's block as of late. That and college decided to up a few notches. I hope you enjoyed it and please, review. I'm probably going to be really slow with my updates, and I apologize profusely in advance. Thanks to fussbudget for catching my error.
-Tal.
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Completed: 11.10.2006
Edited: 11.11.2006
Re-edited: 1.6.09
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