Harry woke in the early hours of the morning on the first of August with a frown already perched across his face. His arms, legs and back were so uncomfortably stiff from lying so still that he felt brittle. His mouth felt like sandpaper, almost like he'd swallowed one of his uncles dirty old sock's. He opened his eyes to peer at the alarm clock beside him and groaned at the sight of the three illuminated numbers. 6:12 AM.
But he was soon distracted by something utterly peculiar.
He could see everything without his glasses! He could see the dust moats floating about in the sunlight, swirling with every breath or change of wind in the room and shining with multiple colors. He took in the individual brush strokes of the chipping white paint on the walls around him, the small flecks of rainbows gleaming from the cracks when the sun hit them.
Harry had never known there were so many colors in his plain room, all he saw was white, white and white. This proved that his eyesight was far better than before, far better than Hermione or Ron's in fact. He never knew that there was so many shades of white in his room. Harry was shocked. He could even see the small holes around the window that used to hold the bars his uncle had once put up, and he wasn't that close to the window.
He tried to swallow his nerves but was stopped by something damp. He blinked. There was a gag in his mouth. He went to move his stiff limbs to yank it out, but yet again, he was stopped. Both of his wrists' were tied to the headboard securely with what looked to be his old shirts. He cursed inwardly and struggled to slide his wrists from the knots, but stopped with a wince when all he managed to achieve was an ache that told him he'd done this for long periods of time before.
He pondered why all of this would be happening while he kicked his feet to try and help lift himself up, but was again stopped by the same binds his wrists were in. He froze suddenly as something occurred to him. It was incredibly silent in the house.
Were we ambushed and attacked? He thought, realizing the implications of him being tied to his bed. What if the Death Eaters had managed to get past the wards?
He had to get free, he had to make sure his family were okay! He pushed his tongue forcefully against the bunched up fabric in his mouth and felt it pull away a little. He needed to get it out and now before someone comes up to check on him, or worse.
He needed to get angry, he had to get worked up, to get his magic moving about. Pettigrew is in the house, Pettigrew is in the house, Pettigrew is in the house … He chanted inwardly, each time getting angrier and angrier until he tensed, his muscles bunching up as if he was a snake readying itself to spring. His jaw snapped shut around the fabric in his mouth as if on instinct.
The fabric of his old t-shirt tore away from his mouth with a small snap of its own, falling limp on the side of his cheeks. He could feel that some of his hair on the back of his head was snagged in the knot, whoever had gagged had done it sloppily. But if they did, why hadn't he woken up? Surely they didn't use any magic on him, the house would be crawling with Ministry workers by now. Instead of giving himself a headache, he paid that thought no mind and resumed his attempts at freeing himself from the knots around his wrists.
Pettigrew, he thought furiously, picturing the rat faced bastard whimpering and sucking up to one of the Death Eater's downstairs as they tortured Harry's aunt and uncle. He strained his wrists away from the headboard as harshly as he could, feeling the muscles in his shoulders and upper back tensing and rippling. He needed to save them!
He was almost flung across the room by the amount of force he'd used, when the t-shirts gave way around his wrists, dangling limply around the headboard with their knots still intact. Harry barely noticed that his shoulder no longer ached as he immediately began his task of ripping away at the binds around his feet.
Once he was free from any and all binds -aside from the gag still snagged in his hair-, Harry snatched up his wand and quietly began to creep downstairs. He checked Dudley's room on the way, noting how the covers on the bed were tangled and thrown on the floor.
Noise was coming from the kitchen, sounding almost as if aunt Petunia was cooking breakfast as usual. But he knew that she wasn't, it was probably the Death Eater's ransacking the house. He'd just made it down the stairs and was creeping towards the kitchen door when he heard voices.
"...he okay?" asked a familiar voice.
"I'm not sure," came aunt Petunia's muffled voice from the other side of the glass kitchen door, Harry quietly pressed himself against the wall, keeping his wand pointed down in case he had to aim it either way, "I - I left him when he began changing."
Harry frowned. When who was changing …?
"It's all right Petunia," said the same familiar voice calmly, soothing Harry even from the other side of the door, "I'm sure he's fine. Shall I go wake him?"
"No, no," said aunt Petunia hurriedly, Harry watched her silhouette move across the kitchen curiously, "I don't want to wake him, especially after what he had to go through last night."
"What did happen last night?" asked the familiar voice quietly. Harry could see their silhouette in the sunlight clearly from where he stood. He relaxed slightly against the wall, relieved that nothing bad had actually happened. Well, not to them apparently.
"I – he – I'm not quite sure actually ..." answered aunt Petunia shakily, "I've seen Lily go through her own inheritance, but she never broke any bones or was in as much pain as Harry was. It truly frightened me, seeing him screaming and – and –"
Something niggled in Harry's mind at the word 'inheritance'. His frown deepened.
"It's alright Petunia, inheritances are different for every person," said Remus soothingly, Harry saw his arm reach out and touch Petunia's, she flinched back slightly but allowed the small touch for a moment, "Harry is a very powerful wizard, and as things go in the Wizarding world, the more powerful one is, the more drastic the change is. I'm sure he's absolutely fine."
"But – inheritances are never that bad!" aunt Petunia protested, shaking her head furiously, "Lily –!"
"Is not her son," Remus cut in smoothly, sounding as calming and reassuring as he always did, "Harry has with no doubt in my mind, inherited a lot more than just a few properties and vaults from his family, he has both the Potter blood and Evans blood, he's bound to inherit a lot more than that."
"But what could he inherit that would cause him to react like that? I saw his skin rippling Remus! Like it was water!" said aunt Petunia in a slightly hysterical voice, "It scared me Remus, it scared me so much that I left that poor boy alone in his hour of need. He needed me and I just – I just left him!" She cried.
"Petunia, it's not your fault," said Remus soothingly, once again reaching out to give aunt Petunia's arm another pat, "it's nobody's fault at all, I'm sure Harry will understand why you left, he's a very forgiving boy."
"He shouldn't be," aunt Petunia sniffled, unconsciously moving her arm away from Remus, "I deserted him in the face of something that was clearly frightening, and all because I didn't want to see it happening. I don't deserve his forgiveness."
"Everybody deserves forgiveness, you'll see." Remus said firmly, before moving onto less serious matters now that aunt Petunia had been pacified. Harry stayed by the door for a few more minutes, listening to Remus and aunt Petunia talk about pricing in supermarkets nowadays, before leaving to creep back upstairs, not wanting to be caught.
Harry stumbled into his room, utterly confused and lost. He pondered what they meant by his 'inheritance', ignoring the way his cheeks flushed in embarrassment at the way he reacted just before. Especially when he saw the mess he'd made of his bedspread -that was actually in a few knots in some places- and the ripped t-shirts he'd left attached to the bedposts.
Something brushed the top of his bum when he turned to look at the bowl of water and slightly red washcloth by his bed that he'd somehow not seen.
Turning with his wand at the ready, he saw ... no one. He looked around the room again and jumped when he felt the same thing touch the top of his bum again, he spun around on the spot and froze. Something very soft and warm brushed across his whole back.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and slowly began to reach around his back with his empty left hand, his right hand gripping his wand tightly. His wandering hand encountered something... soft and silky. He gave it a harsh tug, which had the unexpected result of his head jerking back and his scalp burning, "Ow!" He hissed. He released the thing enough to let his head fall forward and brought his hand around under his arm to inspect what it was.
His jaw dropped at the sight of the silky black strands in his -has his hand always been that long and thin?- hand. He blinked in confusion for a while, before finally connecting the word 'Inheritance' and him in the same sentence. He finally understood.
I went through an inheritance, he thought slowly, blinking owlishly.
Four men entered his mind, one of them grumpy, two of them silent and one of them disgustingly happy. Though it did take him a moment to remember who they were and where he'd seen them, it didn't take him long to remember why they'd been there.
The scrolls.
Rounding the bed, he found all four of them on the floor, thankfully unharmed but otherwise strewn in different places. He picked them up carefully and placed them on the desk while he disentangled and calmly fixed his bedspread. After yanking the shredded and knotted t-shirts from the bedposts, Harry cast them aside and sat down to calm himself.
One of them is bound to be from my parents, He thought, I can find out who I'm related to, if I have any living cousins or relatives other than Moony and Padfoot.
Once calm, Harry reached out and plucked up one of the scrolls. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should go make an appearance downstairs so that he wouldn't be alone when opening them. But no, for another time in Harry's life, he wanted to be alone.
The scroll he'd picked up was wrapped in a crimson ribbon, and he absently wondered if there was supposed to be some meaning behind the color of the ribbon. He slid the ribbon off of the tube of parchment and slowly unraveled it. Two thick pieces of enchanted parchment were revealed, and Harry picked up the first, narrowing his eyes at the neat cursive writing adorning the parchment in black ink.
Mr H. Potter
The Second Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Dear Mr Potter,
Due to the recent events concerning You-Know-Who -pertaining to rule #993, chapter nine-hundred and
ninety-nine, section four of 'A Guide to Wizarding Life'- you are now considered of age.
This further states that any and all estates, vaults, accounts and titles the Evans line have gained, have fallen to you.
A listing of all items you have acquired is further attached to this letter.
You are expected at Gringott's Wizarding Bank by no later than August fifteenth to receive the Evans ring and all personal information.
Hoping you are well and that your magic thrives,
Erkle Higgon,
Department of Familial Inheritances.
Harry swallowed noisily, and put the first parchment sheet down so that he could read the list of properties he now owned on the second. There were a few houses in Hogsmeade, he was happy to notice. A few vaults in Gringott's and ... He paled when he saw that the house in Godric's Hollow was on the list.
He wasn't going to touch that place, or go anywhere near it. He'll let it stay where it is and how it is. He figured that it would be too much like walking on cursed land for him if he were to even go there, not only because of his parents death there and his almost death, but for the fact that someone so vile and evil had used something as violent and dark as the killing curse there.
Sighing to himself, Harry put the two parchment sheets into a pile beside his pillow and rested the crimson ribbon on top, marking it as his mothers pile. He smiled at that for a moment, before moving on.
The second scroll he plucked up was wrapped in an emerald ribbon that reminded Harry of the Slytherin House back at Hogwarts, the House he knew he should have been right from the beginning. He slid the ribbon off and unrolled it. His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed another two parchment sheets, but this time instead of just going for the first sheet straight away, Harry took a peek of the second, wanting to know what was on there first before reading the letter addressed to him.
There was but one word written in emerald ink; Fae.
Harry raised an incredulous eyebrow and shook his head bemusedly, subconsciously smiling slightly at the feeling of his long hair falling about his back in playful tumbles. Yes, reading the first parchment would probably be best, he figured.
Mr H. Potter
The Second Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Dear Mr Potter,
Due to the recent events concerning You-Know-Who -pertaining to rule #993, chapter nine-hundred and ninety-nine,
section four of 'A guide to Wizarding Life'- you are now considered of age.
As the Evan's line has little history of creature blood, I am delighted to inform you that there is a slim chance that you are
applicable to inheriting any creature blood herein the line -pertaining to rule #1013, chapter six-hundred and forty-three, section nine of
'A Wizard's Creature Inheritance'- as you are now of age.
This further states that should you inherit any creature blood, any rules or restrictions made by the Ministry of Magic hereby apply to you.
As such, you are expected to record any changes to your person and magic and report it to the Department of Magical and Creature Inheritances
as soon as possible.
A list of the creature blood in the Evans line is included in the attached letter.
Hoping you are well and that your magic thrives,
Derrick Michael,
Department of Magical and Creature Inheritances.
Harry turned ashen-faced at the thought of having Fae blood in his veins, but just shook his head and continued on with the scrolls, placing the two new parchment sheets and ribbon next to the other pile. He had to act like it was a band-aid, the quickest way to get it over and done with is to rip it off. Though he knew that that method wasn't entirely logical when it came to certain aspects and situations in ones life. Like in third year.
Harry blew out a long breath of air and rolled his eyes at his chaotic thoughts. Enough dawdling.
Absent-mindedly, Harry wondered when he'd get to one of his fathers scrolls, and wondered -just a little-, if there would be the same amount of creature blood on his side as well. Being a wizard was something Harry excelled at, he didn't want to be something else, even if Hagrid would be pleased to have him as one of the topic's for one of his lessons in Care of Magical Creatures. Harry just wanted to be normal. He didn't even want to know if he was a creature now that he thought about it, he would just ignore the other scrolls and leave it be. He would pretend that he was still as much of a wizard as his best friend Ron, and there was nothing to say otherwise.
I'll just have to cut off all this hair, or get aunt Petunia to do it, Harry thought, before suddenly shuddering at the thought of his hair being cut off, especially when it was his aunt Petunia who had control of the scissors. Harry shuddered again, shaking himself out of his nonsensical thoughts and moving onward with inspecting the scrolls.
He had to stop distracting himself and just get everything over and done with. He only had two to go, anyhow.
The next scroll he picked up was wrapped in a deep purple ribbon, and he slid that off straight away in a move to get it all over and done with. He sucked in a deep breath when he noticed that there were four parchment sheets. But instead of going for the other three, he went straight for the first parchment, having learnt his mistake with the previous scroll.
Mr H. Potter
The Second smallest bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Dear Mr Potter,
Due to the recent events concerning You-Know-Who -pertaining to rule #993, chapter nine-hundred and ninety-nine,
section four of 'A Guide to Wizarding Life'- you are now considered of age.
This further states that any and all estates, vaults, accounts and titles the Potter line have gained, have fallen to you.
A listing of all items you have acquired is further attached to this letter.
You are expected at Gringott's Wizarding Bank by no later than August fifteenth to receive the Potter ring and all
personal information.
Hoping you are well and that your magic thrives,
Erason Linn,
Department of Familial Inheritances.
Well, at least I can get all of the personal information I need in one day if I wanted to, Harry thought weakly, sifting through the other three pages and noting that many of the houses listed had either 'Manor' and 'Mansion' at the end of them and he had more vaults than he had first imagined in Gringotts.
Subconsciously he thought about the Weasley's, how tough they had to live. He'd have to hook Mr and Mrs Weasley up to one of his vaults soon, especially as Ron would see these and practically have steam rolling out of his ears. Harry didn't want his best friend to be jealous of him, so what better way to soothe any hurt feelings than with sharing?
He knew Ron would love him forever, as would Mr and Mrs Weasley. Fred and George buzzed around his mind. He'd give the twins a vault of their own.
Harry put the four sheets of parchment and deep purple ribbon on the other side of his pillow, opposite his mothers pile, before turning and swiftly picking up the last scroll.
The last scroll he had to read, the last surprise. Harry inhaled deeply, letting the air whistle through his teeth. This was definitely his fathers creature scroll. He knew it.
The Royal Blue ribbon wrapping the scroll practically fell away in his haste to read the last of the four. Harry was surprised, this scroll had felt like the heaviest of the four when really, there were at two parchment sheets. Harry swallowed lightly before beginning to read the elegant scrawl flowing across the page in blue ink.
Mr H. Potter
The Second Smallest Bedroom
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Dear Mr Potter,
Due to the recent events concerning You-Know-Who -pertaining to rule #993, chapter nine-hundred and ninety-nine, section four of
'A guide to Wizarding Life'- you are now considered of age.
As the Potter line has an extensive history of creature blood, I am delighted to inform you that there is a large chance that you are applicable to
inheriting any creature blood herein the line -pertaining to rule #1013, chapter six-hundred and forty-three, section nine of 'A Wizard's Creature Inheritance'-
as you are now of age.
This further states that should you inherit any creature blood, any rules or restrictions made by the Ministry of Magic hereby apply to you.
As such, you are expected to record any changes to your person and magic and report it to the Department of Magical and Creature Inheritances as
soon as possible.
A list of the creature blood in the Potter line is included in the attached letter.
Hoping you are well and that your magic thrives,
Markus Delaine,
Department of Magical and Creature Inheritances.
And on the second parchment sheet were names of different creatures that dwelled within the Potter line. Harry paled at the page of creatures, his mouth dropping further and further with every different name. The ones Harry knew of he blinked incredulously at, a small laugh bubbling past his lips; Elf, Veela, and Fae.
While there were other names he didn't know of, there was one name that he didn't know of but knew what it was; Drakonas. Or in other words, Dragon. He felt like all the blood in his body was rushing to his feet. There was a chance that he was some - some humanoid dragon-Fae mixture!
Harry blinked at the swirled writing on the parchment, suddenly feeling as though the paper was sucking all of his energy out of his body. He was one or all of these creatures, a mixture, a half-breed. Merlin, he was barely a wizard.
In a state of panic, where he knew he was safe, Harry did the one thing he'd never done before in his lifetime of war and fear and panic.
He fainted.