Key:
"Words."
Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used
~~Parseltongue~~
¬¬Foreign Language¬¬
"Magical language."
From the Ashes comes Death
21st June 1996 – Ministry of Magic
It was over.
Tom Riddle. The Dark Lord Voldemort. His parents' killer. The monster who preyed on the innocent was dead a year after his 'grand' resurrection. Harry's body hurt. The scar that was so tied to his fame had split, turning half his face crimson as head wounds tended to. But it didn't matter. He had won.
Through the many trials of his life, the loves, and deaths he had suffered, Harry Potter was standing tall in the destroyed Ministry of Magic's atrium after banishing the Dark Lord's soul to its own private hell dimension.
Spells flying everywhere. The mad cackling of an insane witch as she cursed her niece. A beautiful Metamorph sending out one last spell to take her mother's broken sister with her to the grave.
"That was... Dumbledore, that was.." the stuttered ramblings of the useless minister frees Harry from the memory of Nymphadora's last moments. The Boy Who Lived turned to glare at the bubbling fool.
"Voldemort."
A single word that caused the filled atrium to shudder. The spite that laced Harry's voice held more venom than the basilisk he killed at the end of his second year. Those who could endure his gaze still fidgeted at the teenager's dark half-sneer, half-snarl. "And I've destroyed him for the last time."
Fudge was one of those who couldn't look at the teen's blood-soaked face, at a face with Avada Kedavra eyes blazing with power on par with the now vanquished evil they had feared. A scream cut through the oppressive silence and ended whatever Fudge might have said to Harry's comment. A man rolled out of shadows that were only large enough to hide a rat, and Harry was emotionless as he watched Pettigrew's silver arm melt. The magic that had been sustaining the limb fading as it lost contact with its caster. Despite the macabre visual, the other arm stole everyone's attention as the Dark Mark burned a sickly greenish-yellow, bright enough to show through the traitor's ragged robes. And then, as soon as the screams started, they died off with the screamer himself.
"And there lies the true betrayer of the Potters, Fudge. Just like I told you two years ago. Sirius Black, my innocent, magically sworn godfather, never even got a trial."
"Mister Potter," a greying redhead stepped forward. The atrium's light made her eye appear to shimmer behind her monocle. An eye that flickered between the teen and the deceased Death Eater. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If what you say is true, then I promise you that Black will have his freedom."
"Yes, yes, absolutely, Amelia," Fudged nodded like the toy dogs people put on car dashboards that Vernon always ranted about.
"I will help you find Sirius, Amelia," Dumbledore finally spoke up. The man's tone caused Harry's burning temper to spark. "He is here in the Ministry protecting the innocent. But young Harry needs to return to Hogwarts."
Harry was turning towards the Headmaster when the wizard's wand flicked his way, and a feeling he was far too familiar with whisked him away. The naval-tugging Portkey threw Harry for a spinning journey that had him land on his knees in Dumbledore's Hogwarts office. Bile rose in his throat from a mix of flashing back to his Tri-Wizard kidnapping and the night's events.
His magic strained and pulled beneath his skin. Harry felt a scorching heat and an arctic chill war within him. The spell to banish Riddle's spectre was powerful Peverell Family Magic, far too powerful for someone who hadn't gone through their fourth magical maturity. Harry knew using magic his body wasn't ready for would cost him, and now he was paying the price.
Something crawled in Harry's very core, twisting his organs with razor-sharp claws in the desire to escape, while all he could think of was to let loose and decimate the office. To destroy it. Another part assessed each sensation with a remote detachment. A coiled snake waiting to strike compared to the beast trying to consume him. And through both warring sensations, the Peverell Magic burned him for his temerity of using what he wasn't ready for. Yet, that last assault on Harry's sanity helped the teen focus. For even as the Family Magic took its due, it gave him a sense of ownership that allowed the teen to anchor himself against the storm.
"Dobby," the former Malfoy house-elf appeared, eyes widening at seeing the state of his master while diligently waiting for his orders. The exuberant attitude of Harry's second year was long gone after the two worked out the rough edges of their relationship after bonding during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry gave them to his small friend, tasting blood and death with every word. "Dobby, I can feel items here that belong to me. I want you to strip everything in here and Hogwarts that are mine or my family's."
The house-elf gave Harry one last worried look before nodding. Harry had already closed his eyes to focus on his budding Occlumency, hoping to gain control of his magic. His relationship with the Mind Arts was a torrid one. He had spent his fourth year in the Shrieking Shack learning from Sirius whatever magic he could to survive the Tournament; the pair growing closer than either thought possible. They had pushed the Occlumency training to the following summer. A year was not enough time to perfect such a personal skill, even with the native talents that came with being of Black blood. A proven fact shown when Harry dreamt of Riddle's familiar attacking Arthur Weasley. Dumbledore's infinite wisdom proved to be anything but when he 'suggested' that Harry have lessons with Severus Snape. The results were the Potions Professor's 'lessons' destroying Harry's hard-worn shields. When he was not being tortured by the man who hated his guts, he spent the nights with Sirius in the Shack trying to repair the damage done to his mind. All of which meant emotional control was still something Harry struggled with.
He did not know how long he spent on all fours. The mutterings of the portraits of former headmasters were a background noise as he calmed his magic through sheer force of will. He almost laughed when he sensed the Peverell Magic's amusement at his stubbornness. He got the mental sense of it tipping a hat before it, too, began settling. Harry groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. The wild urge to lash out was still struggling against his mental control, but at least he could think.
And then Dumbledore appeared with a pop, and his magic almost slipped his hard-won control.
"Harry, do you realise what you've done?"
"I ended Tom Riddle, Headmaster. I thought you would be pleased."
"Not like this, my boy," the old man sighed, settling into the raised chair behind his desk. The man who only heard what he wanted disregarded the disrespectful tone used in his title. "The magic you used today, it's dangerous, Harry. Dark."
"You knew the diary was a Horcrux, didn't you?" Harry ignored the man's declaration. His gaze locked over the elder wizard's shoulder to keep from looking into the eyes of the man who knew too much and did too little. Harry's views on Light, Dark, and Magic itself had long since changed from what he was sure would please the Headmaster. Despite not reaching Riddle's philosophy level. Dumbledore jerked back at the question, twinkling blue eyes widening in shock. It gave Harry the answer he needed. "And my scar?"
This time there's only a twitch of the man's wand hand. It's enough.
The six months of mental torture by Snape. The forced vision that had driven him to the Ministry. Seeing Dora, a woman that Harry felt he might have learnt how to love, die and take her kin-slaying aunt with her. The effort of banishing Riddle. The shock of finding out that yes, his scar had held a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. It all crashed down upon Harry's shoulders at the sign that Dumbledore had known what he had carried. He snapped. The secret bindings on his magic placed there one cold November morning outside Privet Drive shattered as raw emotion fuelled a powerful surge of accidental magic. The dispassionate part he had felt earlier noticed how the Peverell Magic surged deep into him rather than outward.
A crack of thunder echoed in the office as the magic exploded from Harry's body, turning the Headmaster's desk into instant kindling. The shock wave threw Dumbledore into the portraits, stunning him while the room's magic-infused stone cracked under Harry's feet. Like glass shattering, the break rippled along the floor, up all four walls, and raced across the ceiling. The young man dropped back to his knees, not realising he held a wand that wasn't his own.
"Dobby..." he whispered before passing out. The most loyal of servants popped in and out of the room, taking his master with him. It would be the last time anyone would see Harry Potter in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
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OoOoO
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30th June 1996 – Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"I just love what you've done to the place," Sirius declared, ignoring the backhanded slap to his arm from his best friend Remus Lupin.
The two surviving Marauders were sitting in a redecorated office to speak to the one living man Sirius wanted nothing to do with. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black had revealed to the pair what had occurred in the room a little over a week ago, and that Harry's eruption of magic had demolished everything in the room to where even the renowned Dumbledore couldn't Reparo any of it back together. Only the portraits of the previous Heads, the Sorting Hat, and Fawkes the phoenix had survived the magical blast. The walls, ceiling, and floor still had a dark line where Harry's magic had cracked the stone. Although, according to Phineas, that was because Hogwarts supported its former student's actions rather than the castle's inability to repair itself.
Dumbledore's heavy sigh told them how he felt about the jab.
"Sirius, I want to apologise -"
"Save it," the now free Lord Black and grim Animagus snarled, waving the old man away with the hand that carried the Black Ring. Amelia Bones had been true to her promise. Sirius had got his long-overdue trial and freedom the day after Voldemort's demise. A trial and result that all in the room, human and otherwise, knew the reinstated Chief Warlock could have pushed for at any point in the past two years. "Now, why are we here?"
Pale blue eyes danced over to the werewolf before returning to the Azkaban escapee, who ignored the tightening of his stomach at the glance. Sirius wanted nothing more than to use Padfoot to rip the old man's throat out. It had been Moony's borderline begging that had him show up to this meeting rather than sit at the bedside of his unconscious godson.
"I wanted to speak to you about the magic young Harry used against Voldemort."
"Peverell Family Magic. Magic, that is Harry's by right when Iolanthe Peverell married Hardwin Potter."
Sirius' tone was icy, and his storm-grey eyes glared at the older wizard. The underlying message was unmistakable. Everything that was Peverell belonged to the Potter family. Including their Family Magic.
"Necromancy, Sirius -"
"Soul Magic to combat Soul Magic," the Black of Blacks retorted. "Horcruxes are a blight upon Magic herself. The Peverells knew magic to combat such abominations, and Harry was in his right to use such magic to defeat the dark bastard who murdered his parents."
If only you'd been two years older, Pup,he thought. Harry hadn't woken up since Dobby's frantic arrival at the feet of Andromeda Tonks. Such was the price for using Family Magic before one was ready.
Many Muggle-born believed the Wizarding World took its educational system from the non-magical one. The reverse was true. A witch or wizard went through four to five magical maturities, depending on their strength in magic. The first would begin sometime on or after their tenth birthday and build up to their eleventh. Only after this process could a magical human use a focus without causing irreparable damage to their cores. Any magical teaching before the eleventh birthday had to be of the wandless variety to avoid such damage.
Three more maturities would continue every two years. The biennial changes in magical education matched them rather than the other way around. A person's third maturity at fifteen allowed their magic to settle enough to have access to Family Magic. But such ability was with the smaller stuff. A mage could only safely wield family Magic after the fourth maturity between their sixteenth-and-seventeenth birthdays.
A rare fifth maturity would only sometimes happen, leading up to their 21st birthday. Only the top ten per cent of magicals showed a reaction, and only a few of those experienced a notable increase in their power with those usually being the Light, Grey, and Dark Lords of history. Although, that was the trend, not the rule.
A little-known fact was that Albus Dumbledore had not had a fifth magical maturity despite what the public would say if asked about it.
The spell Harry had used to banish Tom Riddle's soul was only something someone steeped in Peverell Magic should have attempted. Not someone who had never used their Family Magic before.
"It was why I took the Peverell books from the Potter Vaults," Dumbledore sighed, breaking Sirius from his thoughts while trying to explain away the highest level of theft in their world. They were only aware of the spell because the Black Library had information on a previous Peverell using it against an enemy of House Black. A fact only the portrait of Sirius' grandfather Arcturus III had known, as the last true Lord Black had hidden the knowledge. Old Man Arcturus only revealed the set because Harry was the grandson of the portrait's beloved sister Dorea. That type of magic is not meant to be meddled with, Sirius. I was trying to keep Harry from their Dark taint."
Sirius stared at the man he had once looked up to almost as much as Charlus Potter. The man he knew Remus borderline worshipped for allowing him to come to Hogwarts. And he couldn't believe the utter crap that was being shovelled their way. Rather than lashing out as he wanted, Sirius Black sat back in the chair and eyed the Headmaster. One leg crossed over the other, Occlumency screwed down tighter than a bribed politician's purse, and a face going as smooth as granite. The act was a perfect imitation of Arcturus III Black. The moment taken to breathe his anger away allowed Sirius to come up with the perfect counter, despite Remus' desperate looks between the two adversaries.
"If you knew everything you know now back in '81. That the Dark Bastard had Horcruxes, that all it needed was for a Potter/Peverell to cast the spell Harry did to banish him for good. If you knew this, would you have told James and stood back as he cast the spell? Or would you have considered it too Dark to use and kept it to yourself?"
Would you willingly allow James and Lily to die rather than have James cast the spell? The real question hung in the air and Sirius would deny to his dying day how much Remus' pleading look towards Dumbledore broke his heart. His friend was desperate for the Headmaster to give the right answer. The Marauders were meant to be a family. And yet, one decided the Dark Lord was the better option, while another felt the old wizard in front of him was. A not-so-deep, dark part of Sirius, the Black part, smirked at the pain he saw on his friend's face when Dumbledore turned his head and refused to answer. Which was an answer all on its own.
"So many died because of it. Severus died because of it."
Which was true. In the week following Voldemort's death, everyone carrying the Dark Mark burnt to death from the inside out. Their magic cooking their insides. The Dark Mark became a magical beacon, declaring itself to those close by when they died. Including one nasty piece of work woman who had made werewolf lives a misery and who dared use a Blood Quill on his godson. Sirius had touched on it during his first interview after gaining his freedom. The Lord Black asked a very simple question: Would the country rather He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still be alive and terrorising everyone? The question squashed any accusation of Harry's culpability for the deaths of 'proper pure-bloods.'
"The same Snape who spent months mind-raping Harry and destroying his shields? Shields, I had to keep helping him repair every night just so he could keep sane. I should be upset about that Snape?" Sirius' voice was frigid, and he pushed past whatever Dumbledore was about to say in defence of the bat before his control slipped. Any competent scholar of the Mind Arts knew the difference between accidental and deliberate damage of a mind. Nor did Sirius want to discuss the cost of his godson's victory. He saw no point debating whether innocents were worth the lives of those who 'earned' the Dark Mark. "I know why Harry now has a bunch of books he should have had available, but what's with the new wand? No one can even touch it."
Silence hung between the trio long enough that it appeared Dumbledore was going to refuse to answer. But then the aged wizard sighed and his shoulders slumped. "I won it from Grindelwald, who stole it from Gregorovitch. It is a wand stepped in blood and death, Sirius. A wand that should never be used. A wand I planned on dying with me."
"You make it sound like the Deathstick," Remus pointed out with a slight growl in his voice. The conversation had finally ripped off the last of his blinkers towards Dumbledore.
It stunned the two Marauders when Dumbledore stared back at them.
"The Hallows are a children's story," Sirius declared, only for a frowning Moony would destroy his worldview.
"Disillusionment Charms or Bedazzling Hexes are used to make the cheaper invisibility cloaks. A charm that might last for a lifetime or two, depending on the power of the enchanter and the quality of the cloak, but no more. Demiguise hair works best for a cloak and creates a far better final product, but its magic doesn't last as long. It's been three generations of Potters from Charlus to James, and finally to Harry."
"Indeed, my boy," Dumbledore declared in his teacher's voice, causing Sirius' hackles to rise. He had never noticed how patronising the tone was until then. "And that wand is, without a doubt, the Elder Wand."
"Harry has possession of two of the Deathly Hallows?" Sirius asked in a monotone voice, desperately trying to keep himself calm.
"Yes," Dumbledore sighed, looking every year he carried. The past week had not been kind to Dumbledore. The aged wizard was struggling to find any port in the storm of uncontrollable events. "At least, that is my belief. Although whether three incredible wizards or an abstract being made them is beyond my knowledge. I am also unsure where the Resurrection Stone currently lies. But I am sure young Harry possesses the Cloak, and now the Wand. Regardless of their origins, they are Peverell artefacts that those without the maturity to handle their legacy should not use."
Both Marauders understood Dumbledore deemed it his right to decide who had such maturity.
"I'll make sure to emphasis their significance," Sirius answered through clenched teeth. He didn't like the idea of his godson taking on some strange mantle as the Master of Death as the myth hinted at, but the items were still Peverell in nature. They deserved to be reunited with the family rather than the man pretending to be the only proper option. "Would you have given him the wand?"
When Dumbledore attempted to bluster another meaningless reply, Sirius once again waved him away. "No, a better question; Have you taken any other family heirlooms to keep them away from those lacking 'the maturity to handle their legacy.'?"
"I am no thief, Sirius!"
Lord Black raised an eyebrow at the declaration. The meeting wound down after that, with the Headmaster having nothing to offer the two friends, and the Marauders didn't want to stick around the school. They had a godson/pseudo-nephew to worry over.
"I never would have got into Hogwarts without him," Remus declared on their subdued walk to Hogwarts' gates. "But I've never heard of him letting another werewolf attend."
Sirius hummed his agreement. Dumbledore couldn't even say the Snape incident was the reason, as that had all been on Sirius' shoulders.
"But he's hurt the Cub too much."
And that was all Sirius needed. He knew his close friend was now on Team Harry no matter what Dumbledore tried.
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OoOoO
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21st July 1996 – Grimmauld Place
It took 14 days/336 hours/20,160 minutes/1,209,600 seconds from the moment Harry cast the spell that banished Riddle to when he woke from his magical coma. And he spent almost the entire time experiencing the same hell he had consigned his enemy to as payment for the use of Peverell Magic before he was ready. While he would never remember what he experienced, the future Peverell Lord would carry the legacy of that payment with him for the rest of his days.
It would take another five days for Harry to be aware enough to remember everything he was being told, rather than having those caring for him forced to repeat their news. And another two before Harry was strong enough to be elf-popped to Grimmauld's ground-floor receiving room.
Despite Harry's victory and Sirius' freedom, the teen felt weighed down by the confirmation of Nymphadora Tonks' death. Sirius had brought the Tonkses back/into the Black Family, with Dora buried in the House Crypt. A nearby plaque declared her heroism during the Battle of the Ministry as The Prophet had declared the incident. Any thoughts of Harry being able to live his life without worries got shot to hell with the confirmation of Dumbledore's status as an enemy of the family, Remus' proclamation of loyalty, and the madness of him apparently owning two of three Hallows.
And the shocks continued.
"This is Teddy," Sirius proclaimed with a tight, brittle smile. The small bundle in his arms was shifting form with every breath the babe took. "Edward James Tonks. She named him after his grandfathers."
Harry, Sirius, and the Black-Tonks were the only ones at Grimmauld. Remus was out hand-delivering letters to Harry's friends, and answering as many questions as the Marauder could without being disloyal. Harry's brain shut down at his godfather's words, and he could only gape at what they were hinting at.
"New Year's Eve," Andromeda Tonks began. Her voice trembled, and her knuckles were white from how hard she was squeezing the aforementioned Edward 'Ted' Tonks' hand. "You and Nymphadora-"
"I know what happened between Dora and I," Harry blurted out, a heavy blush from the usual awkwardness of a teen talking about sex with the girl's parent. His eyes never left the Metamorphmagus baby. "She never said...but the timing..."
"She used Grimmauld's time room," Sirius explained, looking as nervous and out of sorts as Harry felt. His godfather was standing there with his son held out for Harry to take. "Unlike Time-Turners, you physically age when using the room. Dora didn't want to risk her career as an Auror, but also didn't want to give up having your baby. The time room was her middle ground. She gave birth to him on 6th January in real-time. Andi and Ted have been looking after him ever since. He's seven months old."
Grand-godfather and grandparents would never admit how nervous they were in introducing father and son. There were many potential outcomes, ranging from pure-blood disgust at a 'bastard' to a young teen's horror at being a parent before his sixteenth birthday. None of their fears came true. Little Teddy's constant shifting settled the moment his eyes landed on his biological father, while Harry refused to look away from his son.
"Harry, Pup, there's something else," Sirius' worried tone broke him from the shock, and Harry's eyes glowed with power.
"What's wrong with my son?" Everyone's shoulders relaxed when Harry claimed the baby. The young man felt like scoffing at them for considering the idea that he would abandon his child after he knew about Teddy's existence. However, he couldn't focus on that since he was getting a sense of fear from the adults. "Well?"
"I delivered him, Harry," Andi explained, and this time Harry did scoff. As if one of St Mungo's greatest Healers would allow anyone else to deliver her grandson when inside a Black time room. Everyone rolled their eyes from knowing his thoughts. "Yes, well, he was born completely healthy, and a full Metamorphmagus, like his mother. But my scans also picked up something else. He's a Loup Garou."
Harry's brain came to a screeching halt. He remembered his third year's lesson on werewolves, beyond Snape's obvious nudge-nudge-glare-glare attempt to out Remus, of course. He remembered his shock upon discovering the multiple werewolf species that existed in the world. The Loup Garou was the name of Born Wolves. They were born with some enhanced physical traits from the get-go, but also had enhanced emotions. Especially the negative ones. They could only transform after being involved in a person's death, even if that death was entirely accidental.
"HOW?"
"We don't know, Pup, it's not a trait in either the Black, Tonks, or Potter families. Lily never smelt like a wolf, even after the first time she killed a Death Eater."
"And I killed Quirrell in my first year."
There all winced at his casual declaration of homicide before Andromeda continued. "I'm sure you remember the strange readings I got from your deep scans at Yule. The Peverell Magic has made that even worse. It's forced your fourth maturity to begin prematurely. We won't be able to tell if it somehow comes from you until you turn seventeen."
Harry nodded along. His body was a mess of magical effects and strange add-ons that anything beyond a casual healing scan gave 'Undefined/Unknown' for every check. The goblins had ways of unwrapping the magical mystery, but only once his magic settled. Harry sighed away the confusion and worry, returning his gaze to his son. His voice fell to a low whisper, laced with a painful ache. "Can I... can I hold him? Please?"
Sirius showed Harry how to hold Teddy and stood back. The scene had him lost in the memory of another Potter man holding his son with an identical look of love on his face. Sirius knew their fears had been unfounded and nodded to the Black-Tonks to leave the room. Harry never noticed. It took no time for the adults to see proof a child raised in a loveless home could love as deeply as anyone else.
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OoOoO
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1st August 1996
It would take Harry a few more days before he could walk around Grimmauld Place. Yet, even before his legs could take his too-lightweight, he was almost never without his son in his arms. In hindsight, the family's fears about Harry becoming a parent before finishing his NEWTs seemed silly.
No one outside of the Blacks and Remus knew of Teddy's existence. It took time before Harry stopped getting tired after the smallest of activities, and this was the perfect excuse to keep everything else away. Britain's Wizarding hero used letters to make sure everyone knew how he was doing, never once mentioning the person who had become his very world. The Weasleys hadn't been happy in not being able to see him, especially on his birthday, while Hermione was far too grateful that he was recovering to have any issues with how they corresponded. Andi's official opinion had been that using too much magic before his maturity was over would be dangerous to his health, giving him another reason for his isolation. Although rare, such instances weren't unknown to Healers, and she declared him unfit for his first NEWT year.
The news was immediately in the Daily Prophet, because of course it was. Despite Harry's annoyance at the country thinking his health and schooling were front-page news, it had the effect of increasing the people's current favouring of him. Dumbledore had attempted a second round of comments in the Prophet over the dangerous magic Harry had used in defeating Voldemort, and the resulting deaths of the Death Eaters. But the potential damaging of his magic in performing the act had kept public opinion on his side. The news of their hero's magic getting damaged while saving the people from the Dark Lord had killed any momentum of Dumbledore's comments.
Fudge had seen the writing on the wall, and not only granted Harry an Order of Merlin, First Class, but had also done so with no pomp and circumstance. It had been the man's last act as Minister before he was both voted out of office and arrested by Amelia Bones. The DMLE's investigations into Umbridge and other Death Eaters had revealed a lot of dirt on the former Minister. The sheer weight of dirty laundry meant his actions against Sirius and Harry, denying Voldemort's return, and even getting Barty Crouch Jr Kissed was almost an afterthought.
Ted Tonks scoffed, noting the public should be grateful they didn't know what their hero felt about their opinions.
Harry's ability to 'escape' a year at Hogwarts did not amuse Ron, and the redhead demanded that he return to make sure they won the Quidditch Cup and put the slimy Slytherins in their place. To no one's surprise, it had horrified Hermione that his schooling was so affected. She promised to send her no-doubt considerable notes on everything he was missing. Business as usual for those two had been Harry's reaction to their hearing of his missing school.
The next insane twist of insanity in Harry's life happened when the clock slipped past midnight on his birthday. The fresh sixteen-year-old was sound asleep when the Peverell Family Magic demanded its last payment. A silvery substance formed around Harry's body. Sliding between his sleepwear and the bed with no issue until it settled into being his family's Invisibility Cloak, and his right hand twitched and was suddenly holding the Elder Wand that the family had agreed was to be locked away. The two Hallows released a strange, twisting black-and-white mist that surrounded and seeped into Harry's body. The slumbering young man flashed once and vanished from Grimmauld Place. All without disturbing the many monitoring alarms on his bed.
He appeared standing outside the ruins of a dilapidated shack. Although the wards Voldemort had laid were still intact, the building that had once housed the Dark Lord's Gaunt relatives was crumbling. The magic protecting the Gaunt ring's Horcrux had exploded upon the soul shard's removal by Harry's spell, destroying everything within the structure. The abrupt change in temperature from the regulated Grimmauld Place to a sweltering August night began rousing Harry from his sleep. Not giving his mind a chance to come around, the Peverell Magic caused his left hand to rise and grab a small black object that it summoned out of a glassless window.
When the Resurrection Stone touched Harry's skin, it forever changed his life. The Hallows were united. Not through a lust for power, but by someone who had faced Death multiple times and not blinked once. Who had brought someone to Death, who had been brought to Death by a spirit, and who had embraced Death as a friend rather than something to run from.
No magical shock wave announced the selection of the Master of Death, no Seers would See it, no object would divine it. The white and black mist flashed once and sunk deep into Harry's body, along with the Hallows themselves. It would be some time before he made the choice to take up the mantle that he gained that night.
The altered wizard stirred, his mind alert enough to question without understanding what was happening. His sleepy eyes locked onto the only familiar thing they could see.
A year after Harry's dream of Riddle Manor's caretaker Frank Bryce dying to a baby Riddle. The Man Who Conquered was once again seeing the derelict, broken-down corpse of what had been a grand building. His mind still foggy, Harry follows the very steps Bryce had taken, shambling up the hill and through the open door that led to the large opulent kitchen. Harry shuffled along the dusty corridor and up the mouldy steps as a puppet pulled by unseen strings. Each step had him wake a little more from his magic-induced fugue state. He woke up when he entered the same room Riddle and Barty Jr. had been in.
He found neither a twisted monstrous baby nor a believed dead Death Eater. Instead, Harry's first conscious sight was piles of parchments and collections of potions piled in a corner. Whether it was because he saw the cache or didn't see the people from his vision, the cause was the same. Harry was wide awake, confused, and anxious.
"Dobby."
"What is Master Harry doing out of bed?" The house-elf demanded. A second and third pop announced both Kreacher and Winky to find out what the errant teen was up to. Harry had taken on the latter after witnessing the disrespectful way Crouch Senior had fired the elf.
"I have no idea," he confessed, getting a trio of worried looks back.
"Kreacher bes taking wandering Master home," the Black elf declared with a scowl, already plotting to add his own magic to those monitoring heir Black. "Young Master bes sleeping as he should."
Dobby and Winky nodded in a way that promised pain if he tried to decline. The former had already worked out what Harry wanted. "And Dobby and Winky bes bringing all magical stuff to Master Harry's dogfather to go through."
Harry Potter was never so glad to have a family that supported him. He grasped Kreacher's hand and left the other two elves to their work.
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OoOoO
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31st July 1997 – Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley, London
Harry's sleep Apparating scared the family. They took months to remove the alert wards from his room, with the house-elves taking longer before they stopped checking on him during the night. Andi's medical scans had revealed his magic had become agitated, but nothing like when he woke from the coma.
To keep Harry from going insane from being stuck in Grimmauld Place, the adults used their spare time to teach Harry everything they believed he should know; Politics and pure-blood mannerisms so he could move through their world with an ease he should already have possessed; the non-wand subjects, including a refresher on potions that evolved into an accelerated crash-course OWL and NEWT class to cover everything Snape hadn't; Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, after quite a lot of disappointed looks once they found out what classes he had taken and why; as well as some Squib tutors coming in to freshen him up on the non-magical side of learning. After a mountain of security oaths and contracts, of course.
The load was difficult, and nobody expected Harry to take his NEWTs ahead of time. Although, he would retake his OWLs after paying the exorbitant fee the Ministry charged. The primary goal of the homeschooling was to keep his mind active and to learn how to push himself.
The pure-blood classes would include Narcissa Black after Halloween. Harry's 'curse' with the day struck again even though he wasn't at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy had sent a Killing Curse at Hermione's back in retaliation for his father's death by Dark Mark. But Hermione had been one of the DA's hardest workers and had refused to let herself relax around grieving Death Eater children. Especially as some had lost uncles, aunts, and even both parents. She proved this by ducking out of the way of the curse and stunning Draco in one move. She had been gobsmacked to learn later she was not only under House Potter and Black's protection, but also had her education sponsored by them. Such a position had effectively made her a member of two Noble and Most Ancient Houses.
Dumbledore once again looked to push his views on the world onto others, but the man's power base had not returned to its previous levels. The Ministry had to choose between the Man Who Conquered and his political prisoner godfather, Lord Black, or a spoilt pure-blood brat son of a dead Death Eater. The result was beyond doubt. They stripped Draco of his rights to a wand and sent him to Azkaban for life. Sirius followed up by throwing him out of House Black to add insult to injury, annulling his parents' marriage. Andi wasted no time to reconnect with her last surviving, despondent sister.
Dumbledore tried using the event to get in touch with Harry. Dobby had taken Harry's command to claim everything belonging to Harry's family as a chance to swipe a quarter of everything in Hogwarts. The elf put Armours, paintings, equipment, and more in a new Gringotts vault. When questioned, he declared that not only did Gringotts agree with his action, but that 'Hogeywarts' did as well. The house-elf had left the Sorting Hat behind only because of its essential annual role, and not for lack of trying on the Hat's part. The family had given Dumbledore a lackadaisical shrug, amounting to a 'what can you do? Crazy house-elf,' and left him to find replacement inventory. All the while promising themselves to find out what was going on.
Harry's correspondences grew as the months passed. He was not only in constant communication with Hermione, Luna, and Neville, but he had asked his friends for recommendations of schoolmates to reach out to regardless of the division between Houses. It became a common sight for the beautiful Hedwig to arrive during breakfast and deliver letters to each of the four tables.
And if most of those she delivered to were young women, who could blame her?
Yet as Harry's pen pal numbers grew, one name became absent more often than not from his list. Ron wasn't able to handle the pressure of being Quidditch Captain without his talented Seeker. Nor was Harry's willingness to study out of school able to encourage the boy to do more than the bare minimum for his coursework. Ron wasn't an idiot, despite common misconceptions. Instead, his lack of emotional control and inability to grasp the concept of delayed gratification prevented him from doing anything he didn't have to. Or want to. And as Ron's letters devolved into short complaints, Harry's desire to keep the friendship going wilted.
As time marched on, Harry's body began changing in obvious ways beyond what even Andi's potions were capable of. His frame grew up and out. His hair grew longer and became less wild. The many scars detailing Harry's harsh life faded in the order he had gained them, leaving only the stubborn basilisk bite remaining. His features too were changing, with Harry looking less like a James copy as he neared his birthday. He even lost the need for glasses. While no one could work out what was happening, both Sirius and Remus swore up and down that the changes were reminding them of someone they had once known.
The drastic body morphing prompted the Black sisters to train Harry in dance to learn how to move with grace. They also decided he would go through the Black knife training with Sirius as his tutor and them as his godfather's overseer. This lesson would reveal the other startling fact of Harry's changes. He was growing faster and stronger than any normal wizard his age should be. By the time June rolled around, Harry could go on an hour-long match against Remus Lupin while the older man was using all his advanced werewolf strength just to keep up.
As everyone's concern grew over what these changes meant for Harry's future, the young man worried about what this meant for his son. He had taken to fatherhood like a duck to water, and the Black sisters often had to fight him for the chance to hold the adorable Teddy. Sometimes knives were involved and Andi had to do some healing once she calmed down. And then Winky cheated by stealing the babe for herself until the crazy Blacks sorted out their new pecking order.
His seventeenth birthday had the family unit occupy a large Gringotts office. They had left Teddy behind with the elves, something Harry was thankful for as he had gone through an almost fifty-minute-long medical scan that had included three goblin healers and two different curse-breakers. All sworn to a detailed and dangerous oath of secrecy. Opposite the humans sat the Potter and Black Account Managers DaggerClaw and Bodrig, a goblin introduced as High Manager Barchoke [1], and the Chief of the European Clans of Gringotts, Ragnuk III, along with his bodyguards.
None of them had met Barchoke, or even knew what a High Manager was. That the ultimate leader of Gringotts and his protection detail were also in the room had Harry's stomach and head dropping. He already knew things were going to be 'interesting.'
"Well, friend DaggerClaw, what insanity is going on in my life?" Harry asked, releasing an enormous sigh and briefly closing his eyes. In part, to get it over with, and to break the tense silence. While some might consider it rude for him to ask his Accounts Manager rather than Ragnuk, Harry was aware of two things in his favour. The goblins worshipped Lady Magic, and they saw him as a genuine hero and Warrior of Magic for destroying the vile affronts to her nature that were Riddle's Horcruxes. And two, one did not talk to the head of a nation without first given leave. Especially for a warrior culture such as the goblins.
"It is as you say, Lord Harry," the Potter Account Manager rumbled with a disturbing chuckle. The honorific was a nod to Harry's soon-to-be claimed Potter Lordship. The chuckle faded, replaced by the goblin's own deep sigh. "Our High Managers take care of Gringotts' highest-profile inactive accounts."
"The Founders," Sirius offered.
"There is another who protects the assets of the Great Four," Barchoke corrected. Despite not explaining who, all human eyes slid over to the silent and stone-faced Ragnuk. "My accounts include the names Peverell, Ebonstone, Le Fey, Targaryen, Emrys, and Pendragon. I know the full history of every family that it is my duty to care over."
The non-goblins shivered at the legacy of the names Barchoke spoke. They were the who's who of infamous bloodlines. Each with questionable actions performed by members of their House. Even the Pendragon one wasn't as Light as some might believe considering Arthur II's actions in attempting to recreate Camelot.
"Peverell," the name hung heavy in the air as soon as Harry spoke. It seemed everything was coming back to that name. Something the humans would soon come to learn was far more accurate than they believed. "I thought the Potters inherited everything from House Peverell."
"Not quite, Lord Harry," DaggerClaw corrected. "The old Houses, such as those which Barchoke cares for, often have more than one type of claim. Iolanthe brought her part of the Peverell estate into House Potter, and the two Houses merged Family Magics. But being born a Potter would not automatically declare one a Peverell. And certainly not the House's Head."
"It is why that darkspawn Riddle could only claim to be of Slytherin blood," Ragnuk announced. Despite the culture clash of facial expressions between goblins and humans, the Chief of Clans clearly reviled the dead wizard. "He possessed none of the Slytherin Family Magic."
"Oh, my," Narcissa gasped, a dainty hand covering her mouth. The group looked at the former Malfoy, and only Andromeda's eyes widened to suggest she had guessed her sister's thoughts.
The goblins smirked at the pure-blood witch's action. DaggerClaw pushed on with the meeting's agenda.
"It is through High Manager Barchoke's extensive work that we believe we understand the 'insanity' of your life, Lord Harry. We would like for you to do a Gringotts Inheritance Test to help prove our suspicions."
"And I am here because of the repercussions of the chaos that has followed Lord Black since his birth," Bodrig declared, with a withering glare at Harry's godfather.
"Hey! What did I do?" said Animagus demanded.
"Upon being taken in by Charlus and Dorea Potter, you magically declared yourself uninterested in taking up House Black's Lordship."
"Shit," Sirius snapped, ignoring the sisters and Remus' admonishment over his language. Harry watched his godfather run a hand over his face and release a heavy sigh. He had a sinking feeling his godfather was about to screw with his life. "I'd forgotten about that. It's why everyone thought I was disowned."
"But you weren't," Harry pointed out.
"Old Arcturus would have had my parents' heads if they tried," Sirius snorted. "And that's if Aunt Dorea left anything of them. But my oath meant I could never hold the title of Lord if another member of the House had a real claim that could challenge me. Your parents didn't make me your godfather on just my spectacular looks and winning personality. When Dorea heard about my vow, she got a promise from James that he would declare his child as part of House Black, along with House Potter. You, being my godson, not only legitimised that, but it also pushed you into first place for being Head of House Black."
"Something that would happen if the soon-to-be Lord Potter takes the test," Bodrig finished.
"There's no way to stop it?"
"Are you abdicating your right to the Lordship to House Black, heir Black?"
"No, he bloody isn't, Bodrig!" Sirius shouted while everyone winced at Harry's faux pas.
"You can keep Sirius as your Regent or even your Acting Head," Narcissa calmly explained while simultaneously glaring the man into silence. "But the moment this test declares you our rightful Lord, you are Lord Black unless you give up the claim. Heir Black, Harry, we've taught you that our bloodlines are too important to let die. As a legal adult, you must take up your titles or lose them."
Harry allowed himself one sigh of self-pity and then his body straightened, taking on the body posture of a Lord. He gave the goblins a nod of acceptance. DaggerClaw grinned a mouthful of teeth at the act as Barchoke slid the blood bowl and athame across the desk.
"As this is an Inheritance Test, there are no words required for the process," the High Manager explained.
Harry took the blade up. A single, smooth slice opened up his left palm to allow the blood to flow. The runes inscribed around the bowl's edge lit up in various colours, and Harry's hand healed when the last glowed. Barchoke took the bowl and athame back and then froze as everyone saw the blade sizzling as it melted.
"Right, basilisk venom," the goblin grunted. Barchoke placed the ruined athame with care on the desk, having it standing upright, and the room watched as Harry's blood ate the entire blade and half the handle before stopping.
The goblin grunted again before continuing his work. He took up an Augurey feather and dipped it into the blood. The quill soaked up the fluid and the bowl's runes stopped glowing when the last drop vanished. Barchoke had to be quick to put the darkening quill's nib against the waiting parchment. The enchantments activated and words appeared. Black words rather than the crimson they were supposed to be. Black as the quill that was crumbling as it did its magic.
Everyone silently agreed to avoid thinking about it what they'd just witnessed.
"As expected, you are Lord Potter through your father's patrilineal line stretching back to the Egyptian slave Sa'd who was made a libertus of Rome in 465BCE."
"I hadn't realised the Potters were that old," Ted Tonks murmured. These two simple statements made Harry realise he knew next to nothing about his main House. Something he swore to change. "You are Lord Peverell through the direct bloodline descendent of Endovelicus of Tribe Demetae, born 7,237BCE, through the union of Iolanthe Peverell and Hardwin Potter."
"Sweet Morgana," Andromeda swore, beating the others in declaring their shock at the age of the Peverell bloodline. Harry could only blink at the sheer history such a House would have accumulated, and felt awe at Barchoke's ability to learn it all. He then winced at the thought of having to learn it himself.
"As we have discussed, you are Lord Black through both your father's matrilineal line and status as godson to Sirius Orion Black. The same bloodline makes you a member of House Le Fey. Magic had declared no new Lady Le Fey. The same link ties you to House Ravenclaw. Again, there is no declaration of a new Lady Ravenclaw."
"The Blacks are related to Morgana?" Harry said, blinking in surprise.
"Why do you think we swear by her?" Sirius frowned at the raised eyebrow he was getting from Harry. It reminded him far too much of one of Lily's looks for the Animagus to be comfortable facing.
"Because she's a notorious Dark Lady and the Blacks are a notorious Dark House?"
A goblin cough brought the pair's sheepish attention back to Barchoke. Everyone else showed some sort of amusement at the byplay. Harry's maturity over the past year meant he was now happy to engage someone in a conversation. Even of the snarky kind. "To continue, you are a member of House Ebonstone through the surviving Evans line. Magic has not granted you its Lordship."
"And thank Morgana for that," Andromeda declared. The adults shuddered at the near-miss. She saw the question in her Lord's eyes and did her duty to educate him. "House Ebonstone makes the Blacks appear the Lightest of families. There was never a Dark Lord problem anywhere an Ebonstone was living because they were far more dangerous than anyone who challenged them. The only reason the family never took over is due to them being more interested in pushing the boundaries of magic and conversing with Eldritch beings. It's believed a family in America by the name of Addams is a Squib line of House Ebonstone."
Barchoke gave a non-committal grunt. He glanced back and forth between Harry and Remus before continuing. "You are the Alpha to the Mouisa Pack, one of the Seven Great Loup Garou Packs, through your mother's patrilineal line, stretching back to the original Alpha Lasti Tali Lyyachosh, born 501AD. You are the Lord Slytherin through your mother's matrilineal line, stretching back to the Founding Lord's firstborn, Selystine Slytherin, born 972AD."
"At least we know why Dobby nicked a quarter of Hogwarts," Sirius attempted to joke.
Harry's mind had shut down by the time Barchoke had finished. They had discovered the source of Teddy's werewolf gene, although Harry was unaware of why he wasn't impacted by the curse. He was about to ask when Barchoke dropped the proverbial mic.
"And finally, you are a member of House Mikaelson through being the dhampir Blood Childe of Elijah Mikaelson."
Despite their reverence for goblins, pandemonium erupted when the High Manager finished speaking. Although they regained their brief loss of control when the guards pounded their spear butts to the ground.
"What?" Harry squeaked.
"This will require a history lesson, Lord Peverell," Ragnuk explained to the horrified teen. That the Chief of Clans was doing so helped focus Harry's racing thoughts. If their guess about who held the Founders' Accounts was accurate, the goblin's involvement was making a lot more sense. "And it begins and ends with Peverell blood. We goblins have a saying. 'Magic finds a way.' You cannot work around the Great Mother's will for long. The darkspawn Herpo created the basilisk, and She makes the crowing of a simple rooster fell one of the world's deadliest creatures. When the same twisted rock worm meddled with his soul and create his foul container, Magic knew She had to do something big. The day he broke his soul was the day a Druid was born with inner magic."
"Begging your pardon, your majesty," Harry interrupted, grateful his voice was back under control. "But I was taught that it's impossible for an inner magical to safely use Earth Magic. And no Earth Witch was born with magic beyond Squib levels."
"And you would be right, for anyone not born to Endovelicus' bloodline. Lady Magic decrees that true Peverells are magical hybrids. It was Her wish that the Tuatha taught Endovelicus the art of Soul Magic to prepare for defeating such abominations with the very spell you used, Lord Peverell."
"I'm not sure how comfortable I am with thinking of Magic that way," Ted confessed, more to himself than Ragnuk. It didn't stop a sneer sent the Muggle-born's way.
"She cares not for your human beliefs. Lady Magic demands a balance. And her ultimate balance is that of House Peverell!"
Ragnuk snarled the last part with a bloodthirsty fury, causing Ted's head to drop in the hopes of keeping it. "My humble apologies."
Ragnuk gave a dismissive grunt at the human solicitor. Harry felt something rise when the goblin turned back to him, something primal that refused to bend the neck. The goblin saw it in his eyes and, instead of getting offended, he gave a fearsome grin.
"Endovelicus' bloodline has stood at the crossroads of magic for over nine thousand years, Lord Peverell. The Great Mother's champion and defender against those who would do Her wrong, regardless of what the foolish Earth Witches would have others believe. But to explain the rest of this test and your medical, you will need to know how deeply involved in the Magical World's events your House has been."
"I'm all ears," Harry promised. The others were equally eager to learn the history of House Peverell. A few wondered how this all led back to Harry and Teddy's biology.
"Barchoke, continue."
"As my Chief commands. Because of the Peverell nature of being magical hybrids, the House has never discarded Squibs, no matter which era you wish to discuss. Not when Peverell Squibs are capable of powerful Earth Magic. One such Squib was born in 61BCE and immediately given to the non-Wizarding side of the family. Qetsiyah, daughter of Hermagoras, and granddaughter of Lord Alcibiades, is still one of the most powerful Earth Witches who ever lived. She was betrothed to a male member of the Matrilineal Earth Witch line Bennett, one of the Lycaon Druids. The marriage was a Line Continuation marriage for the otherwise expendable male Kyros. The Bennetts declared any daughter of the union would be a prime contender to lead their Coven.
"Such a daughter would be born, and that was when things went wrong." Barchoke paused his tale as drinks appeared on the expanded desk. Small serving tables appeared next to the listening humans, with their refreshments on top. "Qetsiyah was seduced by an Earth Warlock who convinced her they had a love worthy of the epics. And that such a love deserved to be immortalised by the two living forever."
"He was using her link to House Peverell," Narcissa supplied. The ploy was obvious to her sharp political mind. A mind Lucius had wasted and was now on Harry's side. "He either planned to become an immortal Dark Lord or had another lover he wished to share the immortality with."
"The second, Miss Black. One named Amara."
"Irony," Remus snorted, his shock at hearing Harry's link to a Loup Garou family pushed aside by the history lesson. He wondered if there was a way of gaining access to the records as he explained to his Cub. "Amara can translate to 'eternally beautiful,' Harry. Or just 'immortal' depending on the context."
Harry copied his pseudo-uncle's snort and only had one question to ask. "How bad did it go wrong?"
"Very, young Lord. Qetsiyah found a record in the Peverell Library of a possible answer one of your ancestors had created as a thought experiment. It used the combined blood of a Kindred and a Greater Fae as the Elixir's base, but the author theorised the process was not worth it. The physical boosts beyond True Immortality would be on par with a newborn vampire, but these would never grow with age. The drinker would also lose any magic they had. While the Immortal would gain the illusionary and mind powers of Fae, it would force them to drink blood to keep from desiccating."
"And Magic's balance?"
Harry had experience with the goblins dating back to the summer of the Quidditch World Cup when Remus and Sirius brought him to Gringotts. In all that time, he had only once received the reaction his question did. The goblins to a one gave a proud nod. "Doppelgangers. Shadow Selves. The ultimate in sympathetic magic."
"Morgana, that's horrid," Sirius shuddered. A familiar flicker flashed across his grey eyes, not unlike when someone mentioned Azkaban. He downed his glass of water as though wanting something stronger. "You find the doppelgänger, keep them human and alive, and everything done to them echoes onto the other person. That's one horrific weakness. The only way to avoid it is the kill everyone who has even the slightest drop of your family's blood."
"A cost Qetsiyah decided would be acceptable. Especially if her lover was not as truthful as he appeared to be. The Peverell chronicles state that Qetsiyah's lover betrayed her, and she ran back to her birth family. They bound the now immortal Amara into being an anchor for what they called the Other Side. A spirit limbo for any magical being created through the use of non-sanctioned Peverell Family Magic. They entombed Qetsiyah's lover Silas in a near-desiccated state with an elixir that cancels the immortality and given a choice; live forever trapped in his own body or give up the very thing he had craved. This magic horrified the Bennett Coven, and they claimed it went against 'Nature.' The records state they killed Qetsiyah, cursed the non-Wizarding branch of the Peverells to never again be capable of Earth Magic, and vanished from Greece with Qetsiyah's daughter. The marriage between Qetsiyah and Kyros was never annulled, yet our Blood Records declare there was never a Pelagia, daughter of Qetsiyah."
"Line Theft?" Andromeda was furious at the notion while the others looked grim at the tale.
"Gringotts believes so, Miss Black-Tonks," Barchoke agreed with a growl. It would be one thing for the marriage to be annulled. That would have removed the daughter from being able to access Peverell Magic. But depending on how the Line Theft was carried out, the Bennetts could have stolen the magic that came from her mother. "The Bennetts remain one of the major Druid bloodlines of the world and many Earth Witch consider their word to be law. They declared House Peverell their enemy and turned many Earth Covens against the Wizarding World."
"Wonderful, so I've gained more enemies," Harry scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Not to be ungrateful High Manager Barchoke, but how does this feed into what's been happening with me?"
"Bare with me, Lord Peverell. The early 900s saw the rise of a powerful Dark Lord who had gathered some Earth Witches hoping to destroy your House. They would succeed in bringing the main branch down to three brothers and a much younger sister. You would know these three men as Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus."
"The Three Brothers."
"And our scans state you have bonded with their Hallows."
"Dumbledore had my family's Cloak," which caused the goblins to growl furiously. "I took the Wand from Dumbledore the day I banished Riddle. And we think I claimed the Stone the morning after my birthday last year when I sleep Apparated."
They had found that out when Harry had accidentally summoned James, Lily, and Dora's spirits the past Halloween.
"The Hallows know their Master," Ragnuk declared. The other goblins repeated the words, including the until-then silent guards.
"Ignotus was victorious against the threat to his House, but it cost him his elder brothers. His sister Melantha had fallen in love and married a visiting royal Naga. Kaliya loved his wife deeply and got her pregnant, but their child was the current heir to Ignotus' Lordship. Kaliya's family declared he had to return to India or they would finish what the Dark Lord had started. Lord Ignotus did the only thing he could. He went to Europe and called his distant relatives back to the land of their bloodline's birth. Half of them did. The other half accompanied a married Squib daughter to America. That daughter was Esther Mikaelson nee Peverell."
"The Original Witch!" Remus declared. Harry thought that if it was one of Dudley's beloved cartoons, then the werewolf would have a lightbulb flashing over his greying head. "She's the one who created the Aptrgangr-kyn vampires."
"Correct, Mr Lupin. The family mistakenly believed that the Loup Garou is like the Fera. While your non-magical brethren can use an anchor to help them control their change, the Loup Garou are like your version of the Change, in that they fully become the wolf. The Mikaelson family lost their youngest son when he slipped out to observe the local pack during the full moon."
Everyone cringed at hearing about the boy's fate. While the Wizarding World knew of the Original Witch and her creation of a new vampire species, the background of the act had been unknown.
"The Peverell journals are clear," Ragnuk took up the story while Barchoke finished his drink. The way the goblins worked together was astounding to the humans. It reminded Harry and the Marauders of two red-headed twins. "The father's fury knew no bounds, and he demanded his Earth Witch wife to turn the family into a race greater than that which had claimed his youngling. The woman first turned to her mentor, incidentally a possible descendant of the stolen Pelagia. She was rejected. The Earth Witch told Esther a version of Qetsiyah's tale. Esther would find her birth family's knowledge and decide she could do better. Magic be noted that the village also contained the first known appearance of an Amara doppelganger."
"That's a lot of links to be a coincidence," Harry pointed out with a frown. He thought over what the goblins had discussed, a finger running absently across his lips. "What are the odds that the other bloodline was living in the same area?"
"High, no doubt. The Great Mother does not make mistakes," came Ragnuk's agreement. "The results of Qetsiyah's elixir were not enough for the warrior Mikael. Esther augmented it and created the Original Vampires with all their strengths and weaknesses. Magic added another twist to the creation. The Loup Garou had been created to strike against the Kindred. Their venom weakens a Kindred enough that a pack can take them down. In trying to create a race greater than the Loup Garou, Magic declared that their venom would be torturous and deadly to all vampires sired by the Originals. And even they suffer before their immortality can heal them."
"You said the Other Side took the souls of beings created by unsanctioned Peverell Magic," Sirius pointed out. He got a quartet of toothy grins back even before he finished the question. "Was this spell sanctioned?"
"The Lord Ignotus knew nothing about it. He was rebuilding his family and helping with the creation of Hogwarts." Shudders went around the group at the thought of the souls of the Muggle vampires being stuck in a limbo dimension. Harry felt a soul-deep horror and disgust at the idea without being able to explain why. "The Peverell family knew their wayward daughter did not have the power required for the spell. She had linked herself to her mentor's bloodline, drawing from the Bennetts' power to enhance her own." There was a collective sneer at the thought. It went unsaid that everyone knew Esther hadn't asked permission to create such a link. "Niklaus Mikaelson's first kill revealed he was the product of an affair with the Loup Garou Alpha. Through blood and Peverell magic, a second hybrid had come to be."
"The Original Hybrid," Remus whispered in a rough voice. The Original was as much a myth as he was a monster under the bed for werewolves. A potential king or tyrant whom none could agree on whether his curse should be lifted.
"Even as Esther chained her illegitimate son's hybrid nature, her husband looked to exterminate the Loup Pack that had dared to cost him a true-born son and cuckold him. All that is recorded is that a furious Mikael would then turn his rage upon his own flesh and blood, and Esther would be killed or incapacitated, with who doing so being unknown. Some Peverells helped smuggle the Originals to this country, along with their journals on everything they had seen. And the last surviving member of a visiting Pack caught in Mikael's bloodlust. Lily Evans' ancestor.
"It is here that this lesson explains everything you have been going through, Lord Peverell," Ragnuk announced, catching them by surprise. "Melantha's son was the Founding Lord Salazar Ignotus Peverell, the future Salazar Slytherin. When Lord Ignotus and Lord Salazar heard what a member of their birth House had done, they declared their families would stop at nothing to free the bound Niklaus' wolf from its prison. It is they who worked out the Earth Magic ritual required to break the bindings while refusing to believe that another method was not impossible. Mikael would follow his brood across the ocean and force them to run. But Niklaus and Elijah Mikaelson always returned to check in with House Peverell on its attempts to aid one of their own. For make no mistake, Lord Peverell, the Originals remain members of House Peverell."
Harry owlishly blinked at that idea, only to jump when Sirius shouted and almost caused himself to be beheaded by an overly alert guard. "Of course! We met them before Halloween '80! Klaus, James and I went out for some fun while Lily stayed at the Manor with Elijah. How could I forget I went clubbing with the Original Hybrid?"
"Compulsion," Remus instantly answered, rubbing his temples as his wolf attempted to break the memory block he now knew was there. It was mistakenly believed werewolves didn't need Occlumency because of their condition. The truth was, it made learning and mastering the Mind Art far easier. "It's why we recognised Harry's new features without placing them. Remember in early November, when Travers and Bellatrix attacked Lily when she and Elijah visited Knockturn for some obscure books? Mikael attacked Klaus and James around the same time. They compelled us to forget and then left with a false trail to Spain. Lily got injured and Elijah gave her some blood. She must have only been a few weeks pregnant."
"So I'm really a dhampir?" Harry asked in a muted voice. Werewolves might struggle in many parts of the Wizarding World. Vampires might find it only a little better. But there was no such hope for dhampirs. It was one of the few times when the Wizarding World called for the deaths of infants and no one argued. Sometimes not even the parents.
The question chilled the humans to their bones. The way the goblins smoothly moved into the history lesson had derailed any reaction to Barchoke's initial declaration of Harry's half-vampire status. But now the elephant was front and centre and no one could look away.
"You were born a dhampir, Lord Harry," DaggerClaw corrected. As the goblin who had spent the most time with him, it was a foregone conclusion it would be the Potter Accounts Manager who attempted to ease his client's fears. "But you were also born the rightful Lord Peverell, with all that entails."
"A Peverell once through the Mikaelson blood that craved power," Barchoke's words echoed with a finality and power of their own. "A Peverell twice through the Slytherin blood whose love was separated too early. A Peverell thrice through the Potter blood and the natural order of life and death. A Peverell you were when Albus Dumbledore put an infant binding upon you that became tied to the Blood Protection created by Lily Potter's death, and the soul shard housed in your scar. A Peverell you were when you killed Quirinus Quirrell and activated your Loup Garou bloodline even if the bindings kept the wolf in check. A Peverell you were when basilisk venom and phoenix tears entered your bloodstream and infused with your dhampir abilities. Despite how they too were held in check by the twisted bindings. Bindings that finally snapped upon the death of your enemy. You are the Peverell Lord, Magic's balance, Master of Hallows, and an immortal tribrid. You are coming into your true nature, a nature you would have passed down to your son."
"What do I do?" He asked in the heavy silence that followed the proclamation. The non-goblins were stunned stupid.
"You live, Lord Harry," DaggerClaw said, simply. "You live and raise your son. And when you are ready, you go to the birthplace of the Originals and await their eventual return to meet your other father."
"How do we know they'll accept him?" Narcissa demanded to know. Fear for a boy she had grown to love like the son Draco had never been, had her tone to be more acidic than it otherwise would have been. Thankfully, no offence was taken. Instead, she received laughter that sounded like what she suspected an underground earthquake would be like.
"When Rhett Potter declared he had found a breakthrough in his research in Niklaus Mikaelson's curse, a Coven of Earth Witches betrayed him," Ragnuk explained with a fearsome grin. "The Mikaelson revenge threw Europe into a fifteen-year-long war against Muggles and Earth Witches. The Statute of Secrecy was the ceasefire of this war, with those without a magical core planted firmly on the Muggle side. It was only through the use of a worldwide Fidelius with the Earth Witches kept from the secret that stopped the rivers of blood drowning entire countries. Even if young Lord Peverell never finds Rhett Potter's research, there is nothing Niklaus Mikaelson would not do when he hears he is no longer alone in the world. And there is nothing Elijah Mikaelson would not do to protect his childe when he finds out he is a father. It is not that your nephew is a Mikaelson, Lady Narcissa, it is that the Mikaelsons are Peverells. And to a Peverell, family is everything.
OoOoO
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Last Edited - 31st July 2023
Word Count – 12,059
Previous Word Count - 12,229
1 – While I do my best to make up my own goblins or use JK's, I've decided to borrow Robst's Barchoke for any "unique" accounts.