I Am Not Simply.
by ny_zed
Disclaimer: My name is not J. K. Rowling, and I do not own Wizarding World and Associates in any way.
A/N: Hello, two things I want to say here:
1. Response to a guest review: Yes, that's exactly what it is. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I can tell you that some compulsion charms and a certain old wizard had something to do with it. Sorry for the confusion.
2. I'll be speeding the timeline along. It'll be an average one-to-three chapters per year, unless something is really interesting. I would like to take this time to say that this story does not follow the Hogwarts Mystery (Cursed Vaults) plotline. Don't complain about it.
Chapter 4
3 October 1987
"Shut up."
"No."
"Shut up!"
"Nope!"
Harry Potter covered his ears with his pillow. His dorm mates Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood were once again having an argument over the volume homework should be written at.
Today was their fourth Saturday at Hogwarts; and notices had recently gone up on the notice-board downstairs.
Flying Lessons will be Held Starting Next Tuesday, Weekly Until December.
1pm Gryffindor and Slytherin
3pm Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw
It turns out that Oliver was quite the diehard Quidditch fan; in fact he's been creating a racket around the Common Room all day as soon as he read that message.
Poor Harry was just trying to get some sleep.
"But you play Quidditch, do you? Don't tell me that you don't!"
"Shut up already, let me do my homework!"
"Homework can wait, Quidditch can't!"
"No."
It was here that Oliver decided to employ a new tactic. He snatched the Potions essay and ran out of the dorm.
"HEY! GET BACK HERE!"
A lot of steps, and the door slammed. Ahh, finally some quiet. Harry's thoughts strayed as he thought of home. He'd never been away from his family this long. While Hogwarts was exciting, he was missing Grimmauld Place. Even if dreary and gloomy, it was still home.
A BANG! roused Harry from his mind as he heard Percy angrily shout, "WOOD!" Harry suspected the Gryffindors enjoyed the shenanigans going on downstairs, and were probably actively rooting for Oliver.
Sigh. Harry got out of bed as he produced a portable table from his trunk and started doing his Potions essay.
Harry was good at academics. He'd managed to impress McGonagall at their very first lesson when he Conjured a pincushion out of thin air. The Gryffindors especially sniggered not-so-quietly when the Slytherins sent glares in his direction. Charms was incredibly easy, as he was already approaching OWL levels when it came to theory. Potions was slightly harder. Professor Snape had tried to taunt Harry, with usually impossible questions, but Harry had answered those questions correctly. Harry was also quickest to finish his Boil Cure potion, which produced a neutral reaction from Snape. To the others, this was the highest praise from Snape. Harry had then explained to Snape privately how he wasn't James Potter in any way possible, and when Snape didn't believe him, he explained that he lived with Arcturus Black. Snape simply shut up after that revelation.
He'd also found that History was an absolute joke, as well as Defence Against the Dark Arts. History of Magic was taught by a ghost who droned on a endless repeat of goblin wars, while the Defence teacher was too cowardly for his own good. Harry figured some self-study would help instead.
He wasn't too good at Herbology, yet wasn't that bad either. Astronomy was particularly boring. Professor Sinistra had learned that Harry was partially raised by Lord Black, and with Black heritage came an unhealthy library of star charts ingrained in the mind. Every class they were told to draw a star chart, and every time Harry would just draw it right in front of the Professor. It was seriously boring, especially when you knew everything. The only good part was that he was allowed to only attend one class a week.
Otherwise, life was very uneventful at Hogwarts. He could only recall one instance where a fourth year Hufflepuff managed to cause a little spectacle during dinner last night. The girl must have been a Metamorphmagus, because he could clearly see the body transform. This girl was being lusted over and chased by numerous upperclassmen and all that could be said was that Filch received nearly three dozen new bathroom cleaners for the next week or so.
"AHA!" Harry heard as Percy burst back into a room, grinning victoriously, holding his Potions essay in one hand. Behind him was a dejected and pouting Oliver.
"Say, Harry, where did you get that table from?" Percy seems to have noticed the little magical contraption.
Harry smirked and said, "Magic." Oliver snickered. Percy seemed to accept the explanation and sat down to continue his essay. Not a minute later, he found Harry's paper sliding onto his desk.
"I'm done. Go ahead and copy." Then, he heard the door open and close with a click. Percy looked up to see Oliver also staring at the door. He wondered aloud, "How in Merlin's name did he finish an essay in fifteen minutes?"
10 June 1988
A gray owl flew through the first years' dorm window.
This particular owl was from Gringotts Bank. In it's claws was a black envelope in white ink, addressed to one Harry James Potter. The owl expected to just find the addressee there in the dorm, but to her disappointment, the addressee was not in the dorm.
It was at this moment that the door opened, admitting a brown-haired boy. The owl managed to make out that this was not Harry Potter. However, since the door was open, this was an opportunity. She zoomed through the door, leaving the boy looking through the doorway shocked.
The owl flew down the stairs, using magic to attempt to glide her to the addressee. To her luck, the magic guided her to a black-haired boy sitting on a comfy chair, reading a rather thick book. She let her claws graze his hair before dropping the letter in his lap, and then happily finding the nearest open window and flying out.
Harry looked up and was slightly shocked that an owl managed to make it's way into the common room. He quickly ran up to his dorm, oblivious to the stares of most students. As soon as he entered the dorm and shut the door, he ripped the envelope open.
Gringotts Bank, London
Head Goblin, Ragnok
Dear Mister Potter,
It is my unfortunate duty to inform you of the passing of Lord Arcturus Black II yesterday night, of natural causes. You, as Heir of Black, are the first to be notified of his death and we request your presence at Gringotts Bank as soon as possible.
Regards,
Sharpshard
Harry's eyes started tearing up as he took in the news of his second loss. Both paternal figures in his short life were now gone. This was too much for young Harry, as he broke down in sobs.
Oliver sat across the dorm from Harry, watching as Harry read the black letter and burst into tears. He had received a similar black envelope two years ago, where he was notified of the death of his own father.
Oliver's dad was an awfully kind person, while his mother was the exact opposite. Demanding, strict, barking mad, Oliver often wondered about how those two even got together. With his dad's death, his life went brutally downhill as his own mother turned against him, and Winston was just there along for the ride. Quidditch was his only respite. It was heart-breaking watching Harry in such a state. In the one year they've known each other, he, Percy, and Harry had become a tight bunch. He got up and walked over to Harry's bed, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.
Startled, Harry looked up but saw it was Oliver. He shoved his hand away, but Oliver persisted.
"Go away, Ollie."
"No, Harry. I hate seeing you like this."
"You know nothing."
"On the contrary, I have received a black devil before."
Harry looked up at the term. "A black what?"
Oliver chuckled softly. "I made up a term for the black envelopes. I received one when my dad died."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"It's fine, mate. Just know that I'm there for you, and so is Perce. Keeping it all in isn't going to help you."
Harry gave a very sad smile. "I have too much ahead of me." to which Oliver responded immediately with "Let us help you."
Harry looked shocked. Oliver grinned. "We are brothers-in-school, you know. Me, you, Perce. We will go far, I can just see it."
Harry stayed in that position for about five minutes while he processed the words. Meanwhile, Oliver grabbed his trusty chess set and began to walk out when Harry spoke.
"Alright."
Oliver's face blew up with a great smile as he grabbed Harry at the shoulder. "C'mon mate, you can't be held up in here forever. You, my friend, need some FUN!"
13 June 1988
"I, Lord Arcturus Regulus of Black, do declare that this be my Last Will and Testament, and that I am in sound body and mind, blah, blah, blah, and all that nonsense gibberish. All previous Wills are now null and void. Now, let's get on with the actual stuff. Sirius Orion, I am fucking mad at you. You, my heir, get your own bits hexed off during school, and think it'll escape my notice?—"
Sirius gulped loudly.
"—Congratulations, I gift you one galleon, and eternal pain from your left ring finger. I hope your ring finger hurts forever. Next action, I bring Andromeda Tonks back into the family. This actions expand to her daughter Nymphadora—"
A loud gasp from Andromeda was heard, and a fourteen-year-old Nymphadora scoffed as her birth name was used. She hated the name.
"—who is most definitely a true Black. Don't think I've ignored your arse since we kicked you out. Next, I annul the marriage of Bellatrix Black to the Lestranges, and reclaim the dowry. Whoever is supervising, I expect that dowry back in the vault by next week, or I will personally haunt you from my coffin. Next, Bellatrix Black is henceforth disowned. Said person will now be known as Bellatrix No-Name and I hope she rots in Azkaban. She is not a true Black. Next, I grant Narcissa Malfoy, daughter of Black five thousand Galleons, to be put into her original trust vault. Now, I know you hated that blonde ponce, and now that you've got a pompous blonde jerk running around your glorified Malfoy Manor, I will now give you the option to come back to the family of your Fathers. If you find it agreeable, you will ask the new Heir to annul your marriage and reclaim the dowry. Next up, Cygnus Arcturus. You will fucking rue the day you decided to force my hand into signing betrothal contracts. As a result, I use this will to disown your arse. No longer will you be known as my son, but as Cygnus No-Name. Yes, I removed your fucking middle name too. Lastly, the fortune, estates, and everything else will now be left to the new Heir Harry James Potter. He is the godson of Sirius Orion, probably the only fucking good thing the mutt ever did in his life. He has been blood-adopted into the House of Black as of my passing to quell any press concerns. The child should be emancipated by the goblins, insert a whole shit load of paperwork. This is the Will of Me, and this I swear, so mote it be. Farewell, and fuck the lot of you."
Sirius was left groveling as the Heir ring burned itself off of his left ring finger. Harry did not know what curse Arcturus decided to place on Sirius in his final days, but he was pretty sure that it was deserved. Andromeda and Nymphadora were embracing each other while Narcissa sat there pondering her dilemma. Cygnus yelped as the Black Family Magic left him and immediately the effects were apparent. He seemed to get even older, and from Harry's perspective, would not be much longer for this world.
He heard approaching footsteps, and found Sirius walking toward him. Godfather sat down to godson, and Harry waited for him to speak.
After what seemed to be an eternity, he spoke.
"You know, I kind of expected Grandfather to remove me for some time."
Harry didn't respond.
Sirius sighed. "I was a rebellious type. I was sorted into Gryffindor, unlike most of my family. I absolutely hated my lot. I thought I was being cool."
Harry waited for him to continue. He sipped some water from a glass cup.
"I'm sorry for everything, pup. I don't deserve to talk to you after the past six years, but I thought that you ought to know." Sirius began to walk away when he was stopped by Harry's hand. "Why did you ignore me? Why did you not notice me? Why, just why? Was Iris and Evan more important than your own godson? How did you make time for the little twins, and not your own godson?"
Sirius' face aged a decade. "I suspect Dumbledore had something to do with it, but it's powerful. I'm pretty sure the permanent stinging hex on my finger might have broken some compulsion charm."
Harry was shocked. The great Dumbledore was using compulsions and mind magics to keep them under control? That was unheard of!
"Unfortunately, they seem to be particularly powerful. I don't know how I'll be able to break the charms, but just know that I care, you know."
Sirius turned to walk away again, and Harry stopped him again. "Will James know about this?"
Sirius stopped for a few seconds before Harry heard a soft "No." Harry let him leave.
Narcissa was next to stand. Harry looked at her expectantly, but she didn't pay him much attention as she helped her ailing father out of the room.
Lastly, Andromeda almost skipped over to the Heir and embraced him. She had been quite resigned to her fate as a disgraced pureblood but that had been smashed to bits by the late Lord Black. Andromeda then let go, and presented Nymphadora.
"My Heir, this is my daughter, Nymphadora. She's a Metamorphmagus!"
There was a glint of recognition in the girl's eyes. She pointed at him, "You're the oldest Potter!"
Harry nodded. "Indeed I am, and you, Nymphadora, are the prime example of the Black family."
Andromeda beamed at the praise while Nymphadora scowled at her name usage.
"I will have you know that my name is an abomin—"
"Yes, yes, Nymphadora. Now, my Lord, we will need to leave now. It was great meeting you."
Harry chuckled at their antics and nodded at Andromeda's little curtsy.
They walked out and a goblin walked in. "Well, Lord Black, here are the necessary—and I quote—shit load of paperwork, for your emancipation."
"How does this process work?"
"Well, normally underaged Heirs do not get this option, but if the Lord passes on and insists on the emancipation option in his will, you will fill out paperwork, sign in a lot of places, and this will get certified by the Head Goblin before being sent to the Ministry. We simply slide it in a large pile of papers that the Minister signs. It's a good strategy too, since Minister Bagnold is aging and would want to be rid of papers as soon as possible."
"And what happens to those Heirs who don't get the underaged option?"
"A Regent would be appointed by the Heir. Now, enough about that. Sign these papers and let us be done. Time is money, you know."
Meanwhile, in a lone fortress in the middle of the North Sea, an incarcerated woman shrieked in pain, as her magic got weaker. Bellatrix knew the feeling. She had been disowned from the family of her forefathers. She would cry over this later. But then she realized that her bond to Rodolphus was severed. She wore an maniacal grin, knowing what she was able to do to that pathetic Lestrange now.