Be Selfish

Chapter 6

Harry had remained bedbound for one more day, the drowsiness of the pain relief draught making it impossible to even read. The moment he'd been able to take anything (including pain relief) after having his bones regrown the Healer had done so. It made it difficult to occupy himself, with something to do while his body recovered. Last night he had asked…well, practically demanded to be given a lower dose of the pain relief. Harry almost, almost regretted the demands he'd made. Healer Smirnov had cautioned him, but Harry had been adamant.

"How is my patient this morning?" Healer Smirnov asked, far less cheerful, a V prominent in his forehead as he observed Heir Potter. He had recklessly asked to be taken off the level nine pain relief and onto someone that wouldn't keep him drowsy for hours afterward. Which left him giving Harry a level four pain relief draught.

He glanced at the table to find the food consumed and the potions taken. Good, he was well on his way of being able to take care of himself again. The wound on his back was so much better, he was worried about what the boy would do when it was time for him to return to the Muggles. Antonin would take him back. He'd never degrade the parley terms, even if one of the penalties weren't to lose magic as a consequence of defiance.

He shook off his thoughts, returned to giving his patient his entire focus, he had to know how well he would be today. Especially given the level decrees in pain reliever, which could be too much for the stubborn boy to handle. Seeing how he'd reacted so far had him respecting the youth very much. Anyone else would have been screaming in agony of it.

"General aches, but I'll be okay, I'm used to far worse." Harry said quietly, "I have to get used to not taking anything again anyway." The worst of it was the food, he'd go back to eating nothing at the Dursley's again. Man, he'd had pineapple for the first time yesterday, it was delicious. Petunia didn't bother buying fruit, because neither her fat bloody husband and just as big son wouldn't eat a fruit if it was to save their lives.

Healer Smirnov sat down on the visitor chair, sighing softly, "If you were any younger, I would have been getting in touch with your Ministry, pulling you away and getting you the help, you so clearly need."

Harry startled at that, "If I were younger?" more amused than anything.

"Unfortunately, you are at an age now where you're all but an adult." Healer Smirnov told him, a sad smile adorning his features. "We are trying to help you, and you're fighting that help with every fibre of your being. If we forced the issue that anger would just be turned on us. Not that we have any power over the Ministry of Magical Britain. Even assuming we did, the Ministry is rife with blackmailers, traitors, those only interested in themselves, the few do-gooders don't outweigh the bad."

Harry stared at his hands, twiddling them over and over again. The worst thing is, it was all true. Everything the healer had said was completely true. Memories of his pathetic trial, for underage magic of all things. Sirius' wrongful imprisonment. Fudge having Crouch kissed so there was no evidence. Seeing Lucius Malfoy at Fudge's door. Merlin, there were probably more instances he could probably describe. "The bad long ago outweighed the good," Harry murmured, glancing up, looking at the healer through his lashes.

Antonin sidled up to the door, and listened to the conversation. Potter was all but silent whenever they were in the same room together. Honestly, getting him to talk was like pulling teeth. He wasn't trusted, even with the fact Potter knew he couldn't lie. Or he was assuming that was why, truth be told, he didn't know the first thing that could be going through Potters mind. Hence his decision to listen in on the Healers conversation. His healer or not, Smirnov would not just reveal everything they spoke about. He took his duty very seriously. Other than what he'd previously revealed, naturally, which was more than usual.

"Most families do all they can to protect their own, and I am sorry that you weren't one of the ones protected. I am sorry about the loss your parents. And your godfather." The healer said, quiet and saddened. "Especially given everything you lost initially, that is gratitude for you, I guess." He knew about what happened to the Potters, he just held no 'hero worship' for the young man. He felt very deeply and concerned though, what he had heard from Antonin and the scans…it made him want to protect the youth so much. Unfortunately, like he said, he couldn't force the youth to accept his help. He couldn't force his aid on the boy either, it would be considered kidnapping.

Harry shrugged, he hadn't ever known anything else, so it wasn't like he knew better. "That's okay, I uh…I appreciate it." Nobody had actually said that, said they were sorry about his parents, only Luna had said she was sorry about his godfather. Neville too actually in his own way. Hermione and Ron…well, they didn't understand loss the way he, Luna and Neville did so it was understandable that they were uncomfortable and awkward about it.

"You speak as though nobody has given you their condolences before." Healer Smirnov prompted, keeping an eye on the teenager. He seemed to be bearing up against the pain rather well. He'd worried since he'd been giving Harry strong potions. One got used to no pain after all, and suddenly having it rushing back, it hurt and it went against everything in him to see his patient struggling.

"They haven't," Harry said blankly, "I was too young when they died." Who'd give condolences to a baby?

"What do you do on Samhain if not give thanks to the gods and speak to your parents?" Healer Smirnov questioned.

Harry just blinked, "Samhain? Where have I heard that word before?"

"Dear Merlin, you're serious, aren't you?" the healer couldn't help but ask, shaking his head. "Haven't you been curious about your new world's celebrations? If I didn't know better…I'd say you didn't know anything about your new world you immersed yourself in."

"It's likely been a deliberate attempt." Antonin spoke from the doorway causing both Healer and boy to jump at his unexpected input to the conversation.

"To keep him ignorant? Why?" the healer asked befuddled, "What good could come out of someone who doesn't understand his duties? It would result in the hundreds if not thousands of people working for the various Potter companies to lose their jobs." He wasn't quite as jaded as Antonin or even Harry for that matter. The healer knew how the world could be by reading the newspapers and the patients he saw. Harry and Antonin had both heard, seen and experienced something differently. Harry worse than Antonin of course.

"What Jobs? What Potter companies?" Harry demanded to know, straightening his spine, wincing at the pain. Part of him regretting not taking a stronger one.

"I'll leave that up to you, Antonin," the healer said, standing up, "Excuse me, I'll be back later with another meal." Pleased to see he'd actually eaten all the food, including the blackberries, pineapples and raspberries. Picking it up, he inclined his head to both of them before silently leaving them to it.

Antonin could have wrung his old ancient neck; he literally took every occasion they were together to leave so that it was just him and Potter.

It was a conspiracy; he just knew it. Just wait until he spoke to Afon.

"Are you feeling up to a trip?" Antonin asked, leaning against the doorway, staring at Harry pensively. He'd all but given up on the hopes of getting Potter to join the dark side. If he was honest with himself, he'd given up when the boy fell unconscious and he saw the wounds.

Harry glanced at the fireplace crackling merrily in the fireplace, "Do they even speak English where we'd go?" if he actually agreed to going on this 'trip'. He knew they weren't in the UK anymore. The fireplace was kept on all the time. It had been boiling before coming here, although, given what the Healer had said, it might have had something to do with how sick he was though. There was no way they were still in the UK.

Swallowing thickly, Harry still hadn't processed the fact he'd almost died. Nearly getting killed by Voldemort was one thing, but the sheer humiliation he'd have suffered if they knew about his abuse was too much to contemplate.

Antonin quirked an eyebrow, silently impressed, "Hmm, far more intelligent than you let on, your O.W.L scores definitely don't denote that."

Harry blinked, "You know my results?" thinking back on everyone's reactions before the exams begun. Hermione had been almost violent with the books – almost hitting him in the nose – in order to keep studying and checking the answers. Poor Neville though, he'd been so anxious that he'd kept dropping the cutlery and not to mention the marmalade jar it had gone everywhere. Parvati had been muttering spells under her breath during breakfast…and Hermione…well, he wasn't sure anyone was actually able to read that fast.

He hid his amusement at the rat swelling during his practical Charms exam. It had been the size of a badger before he could rectify his mistake. He just wished it had been Peter Pettigrew, the thought did amuse him. Still, his levitation charm had been perfect, he hoped he did well enough.

"Knowing the right people can ensure you receive whatever you want, legal or not." Antonin informed him with a smug smirk.

"Why did you want to know my results?" Harry asked, frowning in contemplation, it just didn't make any sense. Then again, none of this made sense, he was going along with it and not trying to get away because of parley. That and honestly? He lacked the motivation and ability to actually get away, he was only just now recovering. It had taken him ages to get his clothes on.

"Does 'Know thy enemy' allow it to make sense?" Dolohov said wryly, "This week you aren't, but for this week only." Resigned to the fact nothing he said would have any impact on the teen whatsoever. He was tempted to keep trying but if the abuse he'd suffered (he knew he'd suffered abuse just not the extent of it) didn't turn him away from the light and Dumbledore nothing would.

"And that requires knowing my O.W.L's scores?" Harry asked drolly.

"It does," Antonin agreed, "It is my belief that you're capable of more." Someone with his sort of power couldn't be mediocre. Then again, power didn't equate to intelligence this much he knew. Although, given how he'd figured out they weren't in the UK without leaving his bed spoke volumes to his hidden intelligence.

Harry stiffened, a pang hitting his chest, he'd never had anyone say anything like that to him. Hermione sort of did, like pressured him into doing well in his exams. Although, anyone else would have used the term 'Bully' really. To both Ron and Harry. An adult had never kept their promise, or encouraged him to do well. He'd seen Petunia and Vernon encourage their thick son to do well. If he was saying he was capable of more. Did he mean he did horribly on his tests? The only one he was really sure of was his Defence Against the Dark Arts exams. Both written and his practical. He suddenly had no desire to read the results, for fear of doing as badly as he believed.

Antonin cleared his throat, a great big neon 'so' written across his face.

"Where?" Harry asked, glancing at Antonin with an indecipherable look on his face.

"Gringotts," Antonin revealed, "Perhaps you'll believe the goblins."

Harry paused; his eyes narrowed a little, highly suspicious of his motives. He felt way too comfortable here, his magic calm in a way it had never been before. He wasn't sure if it was really Antonin though. He felt that way at the Dursley's, he felt that way at Hogwarts even. Here he felt content, and it was more terrifying than returning to the Dursley's, it honestly was. For Harry didn't understand what it meant. Perhaps he should ask Healer Smirnov.

"Do they speak English?" Harry questioned.

Antonin pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to assume by that, you don't know the translation spells?" tone dry enough to be in the Sahara Desert.

Harry cocked his head and said, "Does it work for Parseltongue?" speaking without thinking,

If Antonin was disturbed by the question, he didn't show it, "Unfortunately, not. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a rare and desirable skill." The same went for bird speech or runes that have yet to be deciphered and hieroglyphs. "There are limitations to the spell and it's capabilities." Were they finally actually having a proper coherent conversation? He didn't include the small conversation he'd had when the boy was mostly asleep.

Harry scoffed, "Desirable?" disbelief evident on his features, not believing that word for a second. Everyone had judged him nine ways to Sunday when they learned about his ability. He'd been twelve-years-old, and ostracized by the entire student body. Nobody had attempted to help him, and as always had to help himself. Which nearly resulted in his death. Which was pretty much just another normal year at Hogwarts now.

"Do you know how many Parseltongue's there are in the UK? America? In Russia? In India?" Antonin asked Harry, considering he didn't know a lot of trivial information.

"Two?" Harry said, he'd been told it was rare and that only Salazar Slytherin descendants have the ability and thus he believed it. He had only gained the ability because he gained it after the attack.

"You believe there are only two Parseltongue's in the world?" disbelief radiating from him.

"It's a rare ability, only Salazar Slytherin descendants can speak it." Harry said, his tone confident in his ability that the answer was right.

Antonin wanted to scoff, to deride Potter's belief, but he was genuinely concerned he had been deliberately kept ignorant. Which shouldn't be possible given that he was friends with a Longbottom, a Lovegood and even the disgraced Weasley family. "In India alone the population is seven million by last population count in the magical sector of wizardkind. In that seven million, there are half a million Parseltongue's."

Harry's jaw dropped, staring in disbelief, "No way," shaking his head no.

"Have you heard the word snake charmer?" Antonin asked him, watching him nod, but his eyes said he didn't understand the correlation. "Snake charmers originate from India, Hinduism has long since held snakes to be sacred. The Mundane's believe the snakes are related to the Naga's whereas the Magical sector knows that the snakes are related to Naga's. Gods are pictured under the protection of Cobra's."

Harry listened with avidness. Unable to believe there were so many people gifted with an ability he'd been drummed into him was evil and dark.

"The original snake charmers were actually healers by trade. Interestingly enough natural healers at that." Antonin said shrewdly. "The trade still exists to this day, and yes, if you're thinking they all have the ability to talk to snakes you're correct. It also practised in other countries such as Pakistan, Sri Lanka as well as Thailand and Malaysia." Giving just a few examples, surprised by the sheer attention that Harry was paying to him. He looked very interested despite his earlier scepticism.

Harry was awed, people openly broadcasted their ability? Surely, it couldn't be seen as evil and dark if they were so accepting of it?

"Being a Parselmouth is considered one of the best gifts one can have. People would come all over the world to worship, to seek advice, guidance and healing abilities." Antonin explained, "There are only twenty-five thousand less in America."

"Do healing abilities go hand in hand with the gift…?" Harry asked avidly.

"Usually, quite a few decide not to utilise the gift of healing, it's a choice just like any career someone decides upon." Antonin explained.

"How do you know if you have the ability?" Harry asked hopeful, he sort of liked the sound of helping people by healing rather than being an Auror. Not that he'd been serious about it, he'd just wanted to wind Umbridge up. Professor McGonagall had promised to help him, and he wondered if she actually would. After all she'd never actually helped him before, despite all his attempts to gain her attention when he truly needed it.

"You're tested, in every other school except Hogwarts at thirteen to see if you have the gift." Antonin just as Lori popped in with meticulously folded clothes.

"Clothes for Master Dolohov's guest," Lori said, handing over the clothes and disappearing without any other word.

Harry's gaze became calculating, the only House-elves he'd seen were Dobby and Winky. Both had attires that…could do with a thorough cleaning, and a very different take on being owned. Dobby loved being free but Winky hated it, had loved and served her Masters faithfully. Neither had been well dressed like this one.

"If you are wondering why Hogwarts doesn't offer it, the education Hogwarts offers has declined severely since Dumbledore became Headmaster. I know you won't take my word for it and that's fine." Antonin understood that, if it was all he knew, it would be all he trusted. Although, he honestly detested using the word trust here.

The look Harry gave him did indicate he didn't believe that for a moment.

"Get dressed," Antonin stated gruffly, standing up, and it made Potter flinch. He bit back a curse, knowing it would likely make things worse. Instead, he trod a little more carefully around the chair and out the room. "Call out if you need me." He reckoned the boy would have to be dying to ask for his help.

It was time to get to Gringotts, hopefully the boy would use one of the Potter properties to keep himself safe for the remainder of the summer. He didn't want to take the boy back to an abusive situation.

It took twenty minutes before the door opened, Harry's gait was a little uncoordinated, he shuffled more than actually walked. The clothes looked good on him, and were actually his size, and wizarding gear. "Let's go, the Floo network in the lobby is the only one that is active." Holding his arm out, silently waiting to see if the boy was too proud for assistance when needed.

Harry's gaze flickered to his hand, right now he felt like an old man. Inhaling sharply, he raised his arm elbow up and it was significantly easier with Antonin's help. The feeling of muscle under his arm, the strength of him, it did things that Harry most certainly didn't want to happen.

Feelings he'd attempted to feel with Cho when he was fourteen, and Ginny but he'd felt nothing for them. Not a single damn thing, he'd gone along with it because that was what everyone else was doing. Thought it was what he was supposed to do. At first, he thought maybe it was the pain that made it that way? When it became apparently it wasn't, he'd actually begun to think there was something wrong with him.

Harry closed his eyes and allowed Antonin to guide him, having someone to lean on was both thrilling and embarrassing. In equal measures. He felt safe all but ensconced in Antonin's arms, held secure and safe. His magic felt so, so wonderfully soft and fuzzy, normally his magic always had him on edge. His magic never relaxed, never allowed him to forget.

Harry's eyes sprang open as he felt the cool air as they left the bedroom. His breathing hitched as he looked outside, a mountain in the backdrop. All of it immersed in snow, pure white and utterly breath-taking for a view. Snow, now? "Where are we?"

"You're an intelligent man, you tell me," Antonin said, "My name surely gives away my origins."

Harry blinked, "Russia?" he was in Russia? His first trip out of the damn country was to Russia? Somewhere colder than the UK? Slowly a grin appeared on his face, the excitement of being abroad was rather contagious.

Antonin gave him a curious look, before he continued to walk towards the Floo, and with it taking away the breath-taking view Harry had been enjoying moments ago.

"Yeah, I don't think we're both going to fit in there," Harry said, "You're way too big!" and Antonin was a very big man. He absolutely dwarfed Harry in every single way. He was as big as Fenrir Greyback in terms of height and broadness. The two were the only ones that towered over the Dark Lord Voldemort.

"We'll be fine," Antonin said, his voice a small grumble, which was normal for him. Backing into the fireplace, he was rather patient while waiting on Harry climbing in awkwardly. At least he wasn't exuding suspicion every second now he supposed.

Antonin used his right arm to grasp a handful of powder from the pot before calling out their destination. Antonin kept his arm around Harry's chest, keeping him centred and them together. The last thing he needed was Harry ending up somewhere in the Russian Floo powder and coming out of a strangers' network.

Harry's gaze roved around in fascination, as they stepped out of the fireplace. "Is that…is that gold?" blinking rapidly up at the ceiling, some of it was so familiar, the layout, but that was all. Marble flooring yeah, gold for a roof, and Merlin, all the different assortment of weapons the magical world had ever had was encased in unbreakable glass set up all around the room, with two lobbies which likely led down to the carts.

The ones closest to him, he could read the plaques, an antique 19th century Artillery sword. The daggers…hung in the cases with their sheaths. They almost looked new, such care the goblins had taken care of their treasures. He stared at the Russian Dress Dagger the longest, it was gorgeous he must confess. Compact, lovely colour, easily concealed.

"Go figure you'd like that one," Antonin said, able to see what Harry was looking at, what had held his interest. It was the most expensive piece and small, and lethal just like he was.

Harry was about to open his mouth to enquire why he said it like that when he heard his name called out. The charm had clearly already been put on him…he could see them all speaking, hear them even, but their mouths weren't going at the same time as the sound. It was like watching a badly edited movie. "Has the healer been talking in Russian this whole entire time?"

"No, he's well versed in the English language." Antonin said deeply amused. "He can certainly speak it far better than you." Which was depressingly enough true, given his Muggle upbringing, it was disastrously dangerous how…ignorant he was of everything. Nobody would want to do business with someone who didn't know how to do business.

"Follow me," the Goblin stated firmly,

Harry complied, surprised that it was without the usual scowl and the looks of disgust he usually gets. Not that he'd dealt with the goblins often, he'd gone to Gringotts maybe twice in his life.

Harry was honestly surprised, but did indeed follow, or rather allowed himself to be led. Honestly, Antonin was taking the majority of his weight, and he didn't know where he'd be without him. probably still face first on the floor at the Floo room. He was not in any way shape or form ready to be walking, even with all the pain relief. He felt shaky, sweaty, his body hadn't recovered enough for this.

He looked all around him in fascination, everything was so different, the goblins were far more stringent. They paid more attention than the goblins at his Gringotts branch. They wore their uniform with pride, they just seemed vastly different to him he couldn't quite pinpoint anything else.

"How lovely is it that you finally grace us with your presence, Heir Potter." The goblin stated, glancing at Antonin before a blank look overcame it's face as he stared at Harry. Attempting to remain neutral despite the fact he wanted to talk to Potter with some bite for being such an idiotic foolish human child.

"I don't suppose that's a mistranslation?" Harry asked, having a funny feeling he wasn't going to like what happened next. The whole 'keep him ignorant' had him very, very leery to say the least. That and the fact they seemed to know more about his finances than him. He didn't know how he could be paying anyone jobs when he only had the one vault.

Harry then turned around and said that to Antonin, "I still don't understand how I could have employees; I don't have the money to pay anyone for any jobs." He wondered if someone could have happened that they were unaware of. He wasn't sure why he was contemplating the idea of believing Antonin.

"What makes you think that?" Antonin asked dryly, a trickle of worry beginning to seed in his gut.

The goblin straightened up hearing that, but remained still and silent waiting for a reply.

"There wasn't that much in my vault to pay so many people every month," Harry leaned forward to whisper it, as if sharing a secret between the two. "In fact, I thought if I limited what I took out, I'd have enough left to buy a house when I turn seventeen or leave Hogwarts. So, I don't have to go back to the Dursley's."

That trickle of worry became a little bit more of a flow, "Not possible," Antonin declared, but he wasn't a hundred percent sure. "Unless, your parents funded the war single handed." Even then the Potters couldn't have lost that much, they still had patents on various Potions that were still in use today. The interest from those particular potions should be pouring in. Interest they'd been piling up for what? Fifteen years nearly.

"Sit down, and get it figured out," Antonin grumbled, as he sat Harry down with far more care than he did for himself. Although, all things considered, at least the seat was far more comfortable than expected.

"We require proof of whom you are, Heir Potter, three drops of blood here." The goblin stated, "For two galleons we can do an inheritance."

"One galleon, considering how much the Potter estate brings in with interest, it's the least you can do." Antonin refuted, chin jutted out, narrowing his gaze upon the goblin, daring him to suggest otherwise.

"One galleon and eight sickles," the goblin haggled.

"One galleon and four sickles," Antonin argued.

"I'll wait," Harry said dryly, while they argued about how much of his own money he'd be paying for an inheritance. "Why do I need an inheritance anyway?" he grumbled.

"It will reveal everything including your abilities," Antonin shrugged, "It's entirely up to you." Still staring down the goblin despite talking to Harry about his own account. He had a point, but if he didn't push for it, he reckoned Harry would let the goblins run all over him.

"Why pay for something you could figure out yourself?" Harry said wryly, "Or are you saying that you couldn't perform a ritual to find out?"

Seeing facets of the wizard he'd duelled for the first time, Antonin smirked, pleased to see that he wasn't entirely foolish. "You could," he agreed, the only reason to do otherwise was time constraints and not being bothered about money and doing it because you want to.

"Fine," Harry grumbled, "But I want it destroyed the moment it's no longer needed." His green eyes gleamed seriously. He'd seen what blood could do in the magical world. The goblins were lucky he was letting them use his blood given what he knew it could do. However, the goblins were neutral and always had been. He doubted very much it would change.

"Very well," the goblin said, not even showing the slightest hint of teeth, taking a hold of Harry's hand, he used his magic to make a small wound. Turning the finger over, he squeezed down upon the injured digit and let three drops fall.

The three drops dropped onto a piece parchment, and the runes glowed ever so brightly. Then the blood seemed to dissolve into the pages, before writing began to scrawl across in the most beautiful calligraphy that was most definitely not able to be done by humans. There was a red tinge to the 'ink' but for the most part when you looked it was dark enough to pass off as black or dark blue.

The length it became was rather long, but fortunately, not as long as the medical diagnosis parchment from earlier that week.

Henry 'Harry' James Potter

Harry made a noise of shocked surprise, Henry? He was actually called Henry? They might have called him that but he remembered his parents calling out 'Harry' in the only memory he had of them. So, it must have been their preferred name.

D.O.B – 31st July 1980 (16 years old)

Place of Birth – St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, London, England.

Father – James Henry Potter

Mother – Lily Potter nee Evans

Father's occupation – Estate manager

Mother's occupation – Homemaker

"I was born in St. Mungo's?" Harry murmured genuinely surprised, after all he'd been under the impression his parents had been on the run, since before he was even born. "This is like a birth certificate…" he didn't even know he had one. He'd never seen it, maybe it was still in Godric's Hollow.

Abilities

Parseltongue

Natural Healer

Metamorphamagus

Spell Crafter

Necromancer

"Metamorphamagus…why don't I have the same ability to do it like Tonks?" Harry asked, almost pouting. He couldn't do anything Tonks could, all he could do was re-grow his hair. "Spell crafter? Necromancer?"

"Magical abilities come from the families, its why marrying certain families have always been…desirous." Antonin stated, staring at the list impressed. "You're likely from the Slytherin line unless you have family brought in from abroad." He said pointing towards the Parseltongue and Natural healer line, "Those come from the Black line, interestingly enough that makes you the second Metamorphamagus in a generation…or two since your grandmother was Dorea Black."

"But other than making my hair grow back after my aunt shaved it, I've never done anything…" Harry said, brows furrowed, "Tonks told me about stuff she'd done in school, I never done anything like that." Slipping up and talking about the Order, but fortunately, her gift was well known, so it was no secret.

"Necromancer is only known in one family, the Peverell's. There has been rumours of families related to them, the Potter's included but nobody has ever said anything." Antonin mused thoughtfully, family secrets, there were many of them, even his family had them. "The Potters were actually buried in the grounds of the ancient Peverell graveyard. I believe it was renamed forty years ago; nobody contested it."

"You said you haven't used the ability?" the goblin asked, black eyes glittering indecipherably.

"Well, not much, no." Harry shook his head, "Why?"

Antonin cocked his head just a little, sensing something far greater at play.

For once the goblins didn't even attempt to bargain, instead he rummaged around behind his desk and pulled out another piece of parchment. It faded between English and what he presumed to be Russian. "This one only requires one drop."

"What is it for?" Harry asked, feeling anxious.

"To find out exactly why your abilities aren't active." Only ones Harry was born to have would show up. Otherwise, the list would have been even longer.

Antonin stood, startling Harry, as he moved to stand pacing the side of the office, which really wasn't all that big. It was meant for a goblin, so naturally, it wasn't exactly a massive room. It was however, bigger than the cell Antonin had spent the last decade in.

Harry turned to stare at Antonin, glancing at his hands which were clenching and unclenching. Like he knew something Harry didn't, or rather suspected. "Why didn't it show up in the scans the Healer did?"

"It looked for past and present injuries only, there are different scans and rituals or even blood testing runes for different things." Antonin explained, "And we got an in-depth scan performed on you because it's legal in Russia. It's illegal in the UK, as well as a great deal of other magicks. Including two of the potions you've been on, you wouldn't have recovered quite so well without them."

Harry looked like he wanted to ask a lot more questions, but before he could the goblin took another drop of his blood and activated the parchment.

"This is why you don't have access to your abilities." The goblin said, a gnarled finger pointing to the reason. "Your abilities were all blocked on 1st of November 1981."

Harry stiffened, breath stopping as he stared at the results, naturally it only gave the dates when it was done. Normally it would take another more painful test to get the magical signature, then find out who it was and those tests were only available for the Aurors. All this particular test did was confirm the dates the abilities were blocked.

Antonin glared from across the room, he could only imagine just how powerful Harry actually was if his gifts were bound. "And his magic?" his shoes thumping as he crossed the room, just so the boy heard him. Distrust he could deal with…fear not so much.

"50 percent bound," the goblin declared, "Along with a shield built around a piece of magic that entered you on July 31st."

Harry's hand automatically lifted to his forehead, "Dumbledore did say that I gained my ability to talk to snakes from Voldemort's magic, when I got it that night."

"It's not the Dark Lord Voldemort's powers that entered you, Heir Potter," the goblin told him, glancing briefly at Antonin, well aware of his allegiance. "But a piece of his soul."

Antonin froze, shaking his head, inwardly cursing up a storm.

The parley was significantly much more important to the Dark side now than anyone other than him knew. He would need to tell Voldemort what was going on, damn it.

"How can I have a piece of his soul in me?" Harry asked confused as hell, pursing his lips, as the pain really began to creep up on him. To the extent that he could barely breathe for the pain of it all. "Is that possible?" he knew magic was capable of a lot of things but this?

"It is, magic is capable of things you can't even imagine," Antonin stated, his voice a steady grumble, "Especially if you've only received a Hogwarts education…"

The goblin snorted, which sounded like a pig more than when a human did it. "A truer statement hasn't been said. The ICW has finally seen sense, and they're actually trying to raise the bar, but after forty years it's hardly any surprise it's going to be a challenge. Humans and their trust, it's pathetic."

Harry grunted, his hand going around to his back, clutching at it, lips pursed. A shaky breath leaving him, the pain was horrendous. What had he been thinking forcing his healer to give him such a low-level pain reliever? His teeth started to chitter as he got the chills.

Antonin made his way over to the boy, cupping his face, forcing the boy to face him. Still reeling over what he'd just found out, hmm, the cold or the flu perhaps? With his immune system compromised it wouldn't be surprised if something slipped in there. He was way too hot, and his gaze was beginning to glaze over feverishly.

A piece of Voldemort's soul.

"He needs to return home to recover fully," Antonin stated, "I want a copy of his entire portfolio, and statements for the past fifteen years. Put those in front alongside them." Gesturing towards the information spread out on the goblins desk pertaining to Harry.

"Our British brethren have tried to have many meetings with Heir Potter regarding his estate," The goblin explained, "His magical guardian has been…remiss of his duties." He warned Antonin, as he clicked his fingers, and gathered up everything that Antonin had asked for.

Antonin glanced back the parchment on the desk, his blue eyes narrowing in on the information.

Godfather/Magical Guardian 1980-1982 (incarcerated) – Sirius Orion Black (deceased)

Godfather – Frank Longbottom

Godmother – Alice Longbottom nee White

Magical guardian 1981- current – Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Antonin frowned, the fact that Frank or Alice hadn't become the magical guardian after Black's incarceration suggested interference with the Potters chosen guardians. Dumbledore had interfered, he'd stopped… "The wills, were they ever read?" his gaze booked no argument from the goblin even if this was technically not legal. It wasn't Harry asking for the information it was an outsider.

However, it seemed that a Death Eater had more concern for Harry than his magical guardian.

A shake of the head was all he received, "Do ask Heir Potter to return and ask for the will reading, I did put Sirius Black's will inside, it's been read." And another piece of parchment slid inside the dragon hide portfolio that Harry's father and his grandfather and great-grandfather before him had all handed.

Antonin nodded, "Take the funds from my account for the tests, and for the use of the Floo network."

"Be sure he comes here, there are always…watchers at the bank." The goblin warned Antonin.

Antonin pursed his lips, the Order were observing the bank, and only one had the ability to inconspicuously do so.

Tonks.

"We will see whether Potter is able to come or whether he returns home, Parley finishes soon." Antonin informed the goblin.

A smugness settled on his features, clearly the goblin had assumed as much.

"Then we will pray to the gods that he gets well very soon," the goblin declared.

Antonin nodded conceding it as the truth, he had barely been able to talk to Potter about anything. Once he was given the potion and some rest, he reckoned he had a lot of questions he would need to answer to when the boy came around again.

Turned out that Harry had ended up with a fever with the one inoculation that the healer had given him. Against dragon pox, unable and unwilling to risk his health by not giving it to him.

Although Harry had asked the Healer one question while he was given the potions that made the Healer quite shocked.

"Antonin?"

"Yes?" he asked, glancing up at the portrait, just about to head to bed. He was completely exhausted after the day he'd had. Who knew trying to help someone could be so cumbersome? Afon looked worried which made Antonin worried. What could make his grandfather so upset?

"He has left the paperwork out, it's in the dining room." Afon told him.

Antonin's brows rose, pulling the covers around him, "That is not like him." he always ensured his paperwork was put away, and why would he need to look at it again? He probably knew it off by heart already.

"No, it's not," he told him, giving Antonin a pointed look.

Antonin realized quite quickly what his grandfather was implying, shoving the covers away from him almost reeling. He would never have thought the healer would break his own rules like that, there had to be a reason he had. Grasping a hold of his robe, he put it on, slid his slippers on to keep warm. His home got cold easy, hence the constant fires in place to keep warm. He so detested the cold.

It made his stomach churn; the healer must be desperate to do this.

It did not bode well.

He made his way swiftly towards the dining room, able to do so in the dark easily. It helped that he had the dining room lit up to guide the way. Laid atop the dining room table, was the medical diagnostics that the healer had run on Potter. Each laid out one after the other.

Inhaling sharply, he sat down, and it was there that the respect Antonin had for Harry Potter solidified. How could anyone not know? Especially the damn healer at Hogwarts? This sort of shit had to have been visible. Was there even a single person that didn't have a hidden agenda in wizarding world UK?

Was there any way he could perhaps encourage Potter…to be just a bit more selfish?

Could he convince the boy to become Neutral if nothing else?

Well, there we go guys! 😊 I hope you're enjoying the story, and I really don't want to hear any criticism so please refrain from it. It's why I've been avoiding updating for the last day or so, Hell of a time to pick to write it I know but the muse wants what the muse wants. 😊 I didn't actually plan on them finding out about the Horcrux but that's twice the muse has pushed me toward it so guess that's what it wants 😊 heh will Antonin become neutral? Or will he remain entrenched in the dark but retire after it's over to spend time with Harry? Or will Harry have to put up with his partner leaving at random? R&R please and take care everyone xx