Chapter 11: " Wisdom Lost, Wisdom Found"
The Room of Requirements held an air of quiet peacefulness as Harry reclined on the bed, his breathing gradually steadying. The residual effects of the mind attack were slowly fading, leaving him with a sense of vulnerability. He closed his eyes, trying to center himself.
Amidst the calming darkness of his mind, images began to form—flashes of a diadem, a crown of wisdom and power. The mental pictures danced before his closed eyelids, persistent and insistent. With a start, Harry realized what he saw—the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.
His eyes snapped open, and he sat up abruptly, his heart pounding. "It's here," he muttered aloud, his voice full of excitement.
As if in response to his words, the room seemed to stir. A soft glow enveloped the space, and the shelves that lined the walls shifted and transformed. Harry's gaze locked onto a display at the far end of the room, where a delicate and ornate crown sat on a small pedestal, beckoning him.
The crown appeared to pulse with magic. Harry's mind raced with possibilities, a plan forming as he crossed the room and stood before the crown. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface, and he pulls his arms back.
"Is this what you want, Harry Potter?" a voice echoed in his mind, ethereal and enigmatic. "Just take it and place it upon your head; the power is yours to wield." The voice talked slowly and gently to Harry
Harry slowly reached his arms out, and just as he was about to touch it, He yelled no and yanked his arms away from the crown. He heard the voice try to command him, "Put the crown on your head, boy; the power is yours. Take it." "NOOOO," Harry screamed, grabbing his head and backing away from the crown.
He was breathing hard and sweating profusely, but he beat the mind attack alone, this time without Dobby's help. He didn't know that his eyes were illuminated like blazing green cauldrons.
Dobby appeared at his side, "You did it, Master Harry Potter, you won."
Harry nodded, his voice steady. " I beat that attack, but the crown must be contained to keep its dark magic from spreading."
A lead box appeared, and its lid was open, revealing a space within. Harry's eyes fixed on the Diadem that lay on a small pedestal nearby. It radiated an aura of brilliance and malevolence, an artifact immersed in the foul magic of the Dark Lord.
Harry extended his hand with a determined breath. He concentrated on the Diadem, which began to levitate from its resting place. He focused his magic, guiding the ancient object towards the waiting box. He hesitated as it hovered over the open container, a moment of doubt gripped him.
And then, a familiar voice spoke from beside him. "You can do it, Master Harry Potter."
Startled, Harry turned to find Dobby standing at his side, his large eyes filled with admiration. Harry concentrated and continued to levitate the Diadem into the box.
The Diadem descended into the container, settling into place with a soft thud. The lid closed on its own, sealing the Diadem within.
Harry swayed a little on his feet, which took a toll on his magical strength.
As the room settled back into its tranquil state, Harry knew he had taken a significant step in stopping the Dark Lord. The Diadem, once a power source for Voldemort, was now contained and neutralized.
Chapter 12: "The Veiled Power"
Harry's mind buzzed in the quiet sanctuary of the Room of Requirements. Before him rested the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, a vessel tainted by dark magic, now carefully concealed within the lead box. The malevolent energy that had radiated from the artifact was now contained. Its whispers were silenced. Harry's gaze remained fixed on the box.
The newfound capabilities of wandless magic—a power that enabled him to levitate the tainted Diadem effortlessly without a wand—left Harry in a state of wonderment. He closed his eyes, reliving the sensation—the surge of magical connection, the raw potency coursing through his veins.
"Dobby, did you see that?"
Dobby nodded eagerly, his large eyes shining with pride. "Yes, Harry Potter! You are a mighty wizard, Master Harry Potter!"
Harry's lips curved into a faint smile as he contemplated the extent of his growing abilities. Yet, his thoughts swiftly converged on the immediate concern—what to do with the Diadem, an object intertwined with the Dark Lord's evil.
His fingers traced the subtle contours of the lead box, recognizing its importance in containing the darkness. "Dobby, what should I do with this?" Harry's voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty. "I can't merely leave it here, yet I'm hesitant to entrust the headmaster with this secret."
Dobby's ears perked up, and he met Harry's gaze with a thoughtful expression. "Master Harry, might there be another solution? The goblins possess unparalleled knowledge of magical artifacts and ancient items. They could provide guidance."
Harry's eyes widened as he considered Dobby's suggestion. The goblins' reputation for expertise was renowned, their subterranean vaults rumored to hold secrets and treasures beyond imagination. Their neutrality in the wizarding world rendered them a reliable source of wisdom, untouched by political agendas.
"You believe the goblins might hold the answers?" Harry inquired, a spark of hope igniting within him.
Dobby nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir! Dobby has heard tales of goblins' knowledge. They could provide insights about the Diadem and help you."
Harry's mind churned with possibilities, so he returned to the lead box containing the Diadem. The dark magic that had once emanated from the artifact beckoned to him, its sinister allure tempered by the knowledge that it was now contained, unable to exert its influence.
Harry continued, "I shall take the Diadem to the goblins at Gringotts. After we return home in a few weeks, I'll visit them to seek their counsel."
Dobby's ears perked up, and he bobbed his head eagerly. "Very wise, Master Harry Potter! Dobby will safely place the lead box in your Trunk the night before we leave." "until then I will guard the box Master Harry Potter." "No one will take the box from me."
Harry smiles down at Dobby, "There is no one I would trust more then you, Dobby to keep the box safe." "Just remember to sleep and eat while you guard the box"
Dobby just smiles at Harry.
Chapter 13: "A Triumph in the Skies"
Amid the bright morning sun bathed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, exhilaration swept through the air. The Quidditch pitch was ablaze with banners fluttering proudly as the day's eagerly awaited the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was poised to begin—an encounter destined to shape the fate of two rival houses.
Players mounted their brooms, ready to ascend into the sky, and the stadium echoed with a symphony of cheers. Among the Gryffindor team, Harry Potter's presence held a sense of intrigue. He was taller and seemed to gain weight, and his eyes now glowed with eerily green color filled his eyes.
As the match unfolded, the pitch became a battleground; Chasers weaved intricate patterns through the air, Bludgers soared menacingly, and Seekers kept a vigilant watch for the elusive Snitch. Spectators held their breath, captivated by the dance of skills; the players on both sides showed.
Harry, now slightly taller and exuding an aura of confidence, soared through the sky like an embodiment of air itself. His broom responded to his every command, an extension of his very being. The wind whispered secrets in his ear, and he navigated the skies with a mesmerizing blend of grace and agility.
With each goal Gryffindor scored, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers in the stands. The agile maneuvers of Fred and George Weasley left the Slytherin Beaters bewildered. At the same time, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson executed plays with the precision of a well-practiced ballet.
Yet, it was Harry's performance that held the audience spellbound. His movements were of power and finesse; his anticipation of the Quaffle's path seemed almost unnatural, his strategic brilliance propelling Gryffindor towards an inevitable victory.
The Slytherin team, led by their crafty captain, fought valiantly to counter Gryffindor's advance. Draco Malfoy, the nimble Seeker, darted through the air in pursuit of the elusive Snitch. Bludgers whizzed dangerously close, the fierce Bludger-batting of the Weasley twins proved an impenetrable defense.
The climax of the match drew near, the Snitch gleaming like a golden promise. The atmosphere was electric, the tension thick, as Harry and Draco engaged in an enthralling aerial duel. Spiraling, diving, and soaring, as they danced through the heavens in pursuit of the Snitch.
In a breathtaking instant, Harry's broom shot forward like a bolt of lightning, his fingers brushing against the golden wings of the Snitch. A roar of triumph echoed through the stadium as the tiny, fluttering ball was captured in his grasp. Gryffindor emerged victorious, securing the win.
Cheers erupted, Gryffindor banners fluttering triumphantly as the team touched down on the pitch. Harry descended; the Snitch held aloft to symbolize their triumph. Teammates swarmed around him, happiness radiating from every corner of the pitch.
The Quidditch Cup was claimed, and Gryffindor's victory propelled them to seize the illustrious House Cup. The Great Hall erupted in a tidal wave of celebration as Dumbledore bestowed the coveted award upon Gryffindor.
Chapter 14: "Reflections"
The Gryffindor common room echoed with laughter and celebration, a lively atmosphere that Harry Potter yearned to escape. The festivities in honor of Gryffindor's Quidditch victory were in full swing.
With careful stealth, Harry slipped away from the festivities, his footsteps silent against the stone floors as he ascended the staircases of Hogwarts. The journey led him to the Astronomy Tower, where he often found comfort beneath the starlit canopy. The weight of recent events rested heavily upon his shoulders, and he hoped the night's tranquility would offer him peace.
To his surprise, as he stepped onto the tower's platform, he was met not with solitude but with the presence of another. Daphne Greengrass stood at the edge, her gaze fixed upon the night sky's constellations. Her silhouette starkly contrasted the velvety darkness, a portrait of serenity against the backdrop of a troubled world.
Harry's sudden appearance caught Daphne off guard, and her initial reaction was a mix of surprise and mild irritation. "Potter," she breathed, her tone carrying a note of annoyance. "You nearly scared me half to death. What are you doing up here?"
Harry offered a sheepish smile, his glowing green eyes glinting in the moonlight. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you. I just needed a moment away from the festivities."
Daphne's features softened as she turned her attention back to the starlit sky. "I can understand that. It's a bit overwhelming down there, isn't it?"
"Absolutely," Harry agreed, his voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "It's strange, you know. One minute, they're suspicious of me, thinking I'm the Heir of Slytherin. The next, I'm their hero for winning the Quidditch Cup. It's hard to keep up with their shifting opinions."
Daphne's gaze remained fixed on the stars, a thoughtful expression on her face. "People tend to label and judge quickly, especially in times of uncertainty. It's easier to categorize others into neat boxes.
Harry nodded in agreement, his gaze following hers to the tapestry of stars above. "I guess that's true. It's just… exhausting. I'm tired of constantly being in the spotlight and held up to these unrealistic expectations."
Daphne's voice held a trace of empathy as she turned to face Harry. "I can imagine how that must feel.
Harry's eyes met Daphne's, and the sincerity in her words struck him. "You believe me?"
Daphne's lips curved into a wistful smile. "I do. We're all more than the labels society assigns to us. We can chart our paths and make our own choices."
"Thank you, Greengrass. It's strange, but talking to you… It's like a breath of fresh air. You see things differently."
Daphne turned and walked toward the exit; she stopped and turned. "They don't get to make your choices, Potter; they can only influence you. At the end of the day, all the choices you make are your own."
Chapter 15: " Fair weather friends"
The Hogwarts Express stood on the platform, its carriages bustling with students eager to return home. Amid the commotion, Harry Potter's steps carried him to a seat opposite Ron Weasley. The tension in the air was strong.
"Ron," Harry's voice broke through the quiet, his gaze locked onto his friend's uncertain expression, "we need to talk."
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes meeting Harry's. "Alright, Harry. Let's get it over with."
Harry's fingers tapped lightly against the armrest as he gathered his thoughts. "I couldn't help but notice… during the ordeal with the Basilisk… it seemed like you were among those who doubted me, feared me. Who thought I might be going dark because I can speak Parseltongue."
Ron's brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing with a hint of defensiveness. "Well, Harry, you know how it is. Only evil wizards can speak Parseltongue. It's not a common ability." and "You were caught near the scenes of the attacks."
Harry's jaw tightened as he processed Ron's words, a mix of hurt and frustration churning within him. "Ron, you were there through our other adventures and still thought I could be going dark." You stood with those who doubted me, who believed I could be responsible for something so evil."
Ron's shoulders tensed, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Look, Harry, it wasn't easy. I was scared, alright? Everyone wanted me to say you were going dark. The rumors, the uncertainty… it got to me."
Harry's voice trembled with emotion, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "But Ron, when I needed you the most, you chose doubt and fear over trust. You stood against me."
Hermione, who had been engrossed in her book, interjected worriedly. "Boys, please, let's not fight. We're friends, remember?"
Harry's frustration flared, and he turned his gaze to Hermione. "Friends, Hermione? Friends believe in each other; they support each other. But when it mattered, Ron didn't support me. He turned on me and stabbed me in the back!" The rest of the school followed his lead. "If his best friend thinks he's going dark, then it's true he is going dark.
Ron's face reddened, his voice rising with anger and resentment. "And what? Do you expect us to follow you mindlessly? To trust you no matter what?"
Harry's eyes blazed with intensity. "No, Ron. I expect my friends to stand by and believe in me, especially when I need them the most. And you let me down."
Hermione's attempts to mediate were disregarded as the tension between the two friends escalated. A rift seemed to widen, a growing chasm threatening to shatter the bonds they had once held dear.
"Fine, Harry," Ron's yelled. His face turned bright red, "You don't need friends like me." "You should find people who can meet your saintly expectations."
Harry's gaze bore into Ron's, his voice laced with anger, "I will." "We are through being friends."
Ron clenched his fists, his face flushed in anger. "Good, don't come begging me to take you back; "it won't happen." "Don't even think about coming to the Burrow this summer. You are not welcome."
Ron smiled at Harry; "Nothing like this has happened at Hogwarts, the attacks, monsters being unleashed. Until you showed up, you brought all the darkness, and people are being hurt, almost killed because of you."
Ron was now standing, "Even Hermione agrees with me that it's your fault."
Harry spins toward Hermione, "Is this true?" "You believe this is all my fault: I somehow brought the Dark Lord and his minions back to Hogwarts."
Hermione looked shocked that Ron had dragged her into their fight. "I am sorry, Harry, but I looked it up. Nothing has happened like this for over 50 years until you returned to the Magical World."
It looked like someone had slapped Harry as he staggered back. Harry stands straight; his eyes look as if they are on fire. Both Ron and Hermione step back. "At least I know you are both fair weather friends."
Harry looked at Hermione; "When you were petrified, who sat with you every day and read to you, talked to you? It was me, the up-and-coming Dark Lord." Harry looks at Ron, "My best friend, who was it that you begged to help save his sister from the Chamber of Secrets." "It was not the Headmaster; it was me, and I almost died saving her." Harry walks out of the compartment without another word.
Ron looks at Hermione, "What does fair weather friends mean?" Hermione, with tears in her eyes, looks at Ron. "You are only friends through the good times; you are never around through the bad times."
Chapter 16: "Ties of True Friendship"
The Hogwarts Express hurtled through the scenic landscape, its rhythmic clatter a backdrop to the thoughts that weighed heavily on Harry Potter's mind. As he wandered the corridors, his steps eventually led him to a compartment where Neville Longbottom sat alone, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery.
Harry hesitated momentarily before gently rapping his knuckles against the compartment door. Neville looked up, his expression lighting up with a warm smile. "Harry, come on in."
Harry entered the compartment, sliding the door shut behind him. Neville gestured to the empty seat across from him, an unspoken invitation for Harry to join him. They exchanged a brief nod before Harry took a seat; he featured a mix of introspection and turmoil.
Neville's brow furrowed in concern. "Everything alright, Harry? You seem a bit off."
Harry let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Honestly, Neville, things have been better. Ron and Hermione… It's like they're not really on my side anymore. They didn't back me up During the Basilisk ordeal. They doubted me."
Neville's expression shifted to empathy, his gaze locked onto Harry's troubled eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that, Harry. Friends are supposed to support each other, especially in tough times."
Harry nodded, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "Exactly. I thought we were a team, but now it feels like they're questioning everything I do."
Neville leaned back in his seat, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the armrest. "You know, Harry, I noticed something strange earlier. I saw Hermione talking with some of her Ravenclaw friends. She looked worried, and she glanced in your direction a few times. I felt she didn't want to get between you and Ron."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Hermione was talking to Ravenclaws?"
Yes, Neville replied. She and Penny Clearwater were Petrified together. They have become friends and, I guess, bonded over the incident. I heard Hermione telling Ginny that it feels like she has a big sister now.
Neville nodded. "Yeah, it seemed like a serious conversation with Clearwater. She noticed your mood, I think, and maybe she thought it was best not to get involved."
Harry's brows knitted together as he absorbed Neville's words. "So, she saw how I was feeling and chose to stay out of it?"
Neville shrugged slightly, his expression thoughtful. "That's what it looked like to me. But, Harry, you've got to understand friendships can get complicated sometimes. People have their reasons for doing things."
Harry's frustration simmered, and he leaned forward, his voice full of sadness and confusion. "I just don't get it, Neville. They've changed, and I don't know why."
Neville met Harry's gaze with a steady look, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "You know, Harry, sometimes people change when they're afraid. Maybe they're scared of what happened or what might happen in the future. Fear can make people act differently, even if it's not the right thing to do."
Harry's shoulders tensed, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat. "But I thought friends were supposed to stick together, no matter what. That's what I always believed."
Neville's smile was soft, tinged with a hint of reassurance. "And you're right, Harry. True friends do stick together. But sometimes, even true friends can stumble. It doesn't mean they don't care about you or that they're not your friends anymore."
Harry's gaze lowered his voice barely a whisper. "It just hurts, Neville. It hurts to think that they might not trust me anymore."
Neville leaned forward, his eyes meeting Harry's. "Harry, I've seen you in action. I've seen how you stand up for what's right, even when it's hard. You're the kind who would risk everything for someone else, even if they made fun of you. You've got a heart of gold, and that's not something that changes overnight."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Neville. That means a lot."
Neville chuckled, his tone light yet genuine. "No problem, mate. People make mistakes, but true friendship is stronger than any mistake. Give them a chance, Harry. Maybe they need a bit of time to realize that."
Harry's mood lifted slightly, and he looked at Neville with a determined expression. "Speaking of secrets, Neville, I want to share something with you. If you hear rumors this summer that I've gone missing or something, don't believe them. I won't be staying with my aunt and uncle. Just know that I'm safe and not to worry. I'll see you next year at Hogwarts."
Neville's eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. "Where will you be?"
Harry's lips curved into a secretive smile. "Let's just say I've got a few plans."
Harry continued before Neville could inquire further, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Oh, and there's something else. It might not be my place to tell you, but you should know. It's not your magic holding you back, Neville. It's your wand. It's not suited for you. The wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around. It would help if you considered getting your wand instead of one unsuited for you and practicing all the magic we've been taught at Hogwarts over the summer. That's just my opinion, though. I believe you're a powerful wizard, Neville. You just haven't realized it yet."
Neville's eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth slightly agape. "Harry, I… I don't know what to say."
Harry stood up, a determined glint in his eyes. "You don't have to say anything, Neville. Just think about it. And remember, don't let anyone hold you back, not even yourself. "Harry left the compartment with those words, leaving Neville stunned and lost in thought.
Chapter 17: "Unbreakable Bonds"
The platform buzzed with the excitement of students reuniting with their families after a long school year. Harry Potter disembarked from the Hogwarts Express among the crowds, his Trunk shrunken to fit into his pocket. His steps were brisk as he navigated the crowd, hoping to slip away unnoticed. He had no intention of lingering or exchanging farewells.
However, as he neared the exit that led to the world of Muggles, he felt the weight of a gaze fixated on him. Cold blue eyes bore into his back, a chilling reminder that he couldn't escape without being noticed. Harry's jaw clenched, and he quickened his pace, determined to put distance between himself and the watchful eyes.
Harry's heart pounded outside the station in the world of Muggles as he walked the familiar path towards the Dursley household. The thought of confronting his uncle made his stomach churn, but he had a purpose. He wanted to reclaim a small part of his freedom, to gain a foothold in a world he had only recently come to understand.
Upon reaching Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He knocked on the door, and after a tense moment, it swung open to reveal his uncle, Vernon Dursley. The man's face contorted into a sneer, his voice dripping with disdain. "What do you want, boy?"
Harry met his uncle's gaze with a steely resolve. "I'm here to discuss something, Uncle Vernon."
Uncle Vernon's nostrils flared, his anger palpable. "Discuss? You have some nerve coming back here after everything. Spit it out, then."
Harry's voice remained firm. "I've been granted permission to visit Hogsmeade during the summer and find a job. But to do that, I need you to sign these release forms."
He held out the papers, his gaze never leaving his uncle's face. Vernon Dursley's expression twisted into a furious scowl. "You think I will help you with your freakish nonsense?"
Harry's voice remained steady, his tone cutting through the tension. "It's in your best interest, Uncle Vernon. If you sign these papers, you'll have no more obligations towards me, and I'll have no reason to return here."
Uncle Vernon's anger flared, and his voice rose to a dangerous growl. "And what do I get in return? You think I'll do this out of the goodness of my heart?"
Harry's eyes glowed with fire. "I'll buy you that house your wife has been wanting. No more deals, no more interference from me. Just sign the papers, and we'll go our separate ways."
Uncle Vernon's face contorted with a mixture of fury and contempt. "You're offering to buy us a house?"
Harry nods. "Yes, but only if you sign the papers. No more ties, no more obligations."
Uncle Vernon's nostrils flared as he contemplated his options. His anger seethed beneath the surface, but a certain level of greed seemed to override his ire. "Fine. I'll sign your blasted papers. But remember, boy, you're not welcome here."
With a flourish, Uncle Vernon snatched the papers from Harry's hand and scribbled his signature with a flourish that bordered on aggression. Harry's lips curled into a smile as he retrieved the documents. "Thank you, Uncle Vernon. I won't bother you anymore."
Uncle Vernon's face twisted into a sardonic grin. "You'd better keep your word, boy."
Harry turned on his heel with those words, leaving his uncle fuming in the doorway. As he walked away from Number Four, Privet Drive, he couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation. The ties that had bound him to his relatives slowly unraveled, replaced by a newfound sense of control over his destiny.
He paused, fishing out a piece of parchment from his pocket and scribbling down an address. He handed it to his owl, instructing it to deliver the letter to the Goblins' Muggle front bank. With that task complete, he continued on his way.
Chapter 18: "Unveiling Legacies"
The grand entrance of Gringotts Bank loomed before Harry as they stepped onto the polished marble floors. The air within the bank felt charged with anticipation and secrets, a fitting ambiance for a place that held the keys to so many hidden fortunes.
Harry walked confidently to the line, and his thoughts buzzed with curiosity and eagerness as he waited. When it was his turn, he approached the goblin at the counter, who nodded at him with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Mr. Potter, it's been a while. How can we assist you today?"
Harry's voice was determined as he asked, "I'd like to inquire about my accounts beyond my trust fund."
The goblin scrutinized him momentarily before a flicker of recognition crossed his features. "Ah, indeed. Follow me, please."
Leading Harry through the intricately designed corridors of the bank, the goblin arrived at a lavish office. The account manager, a goblin named Griphook, was seated behind a grand desk. His sharp eyes appraised Harry as he entered. "Mr. Potter, you've come earlier than expected. Your timing is fortunate."
Harry's brow furrowed slightly. "Fortunate? Why?"
Griphook leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "You've come on the day of your inheritance, young wizard."
Harry's eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Inheritance?"
Griphook's lips quirked into a slight smile. "Indeed. As the last surviving Potter, you are entitled to something that has been waiting for you."
With a flourish, Griphook produced a small, ornate ring. It bore the crest of the Potter family, intricately designed and shimmering with magic. "This is the Potter Heir Ring, passed down through generations. Today, you are the rightful heir."
Harry's fingers grazed the cool metal of the ring, a mix of emotions swirling within him. "Thank you. But I've been told there might be more to my inheritance than the Potter legacy."
Griphook's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. You can undergo an inheritance test, a magical procedure revealing the extent of your ancestral connections."
Harry nodded decisively. "I'd like to take the test."
Griphook nodded to a nearby goblin, who swiftly set up the necessary equipment. As Harry underwent the ritual, a hush seemed to fall over the room, and a sense of ancient magic enveloped him.
When the ritual concluded, Griphook's eyes bore into Harry's with an intensity that held a mix of awe and respect. "Mr. Potter, your lineage is more illustrious than even legends would have us believe. You are the Potters family's heir and the House of Black heir. That is unbelievable, but there is more."
Harry's breath caught in his throat as Griphook continued, "And more significantly, you carry the blood of the Peverell family, a lineage that once held a reputation for their death- magic and warlike tendencies."
Harry's mind raced, "Peverell... a dark lineage?"
Griphook's voice was solemn. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. The Peverell family was known as death mages who brought death and destruction to anyone who crossed them. It's unsurprising to find such blood intertwined with your own; it's been rumored that your family descended from the Peverell."
Griphook stared at Harry, and there's more to your bloodline. "There's also the legacy of Gryffindor and Slytherin within you; your lineage is a tapestry of complexity, Mr. Potter."
Griphook's voice trailed off as his eyes widened in astonishment. A ring had materialized on the desk. The goblin stared at it, his features etched with disbelief. It was the Ring of House Peverell, its design dark and intricate, adorned with the image of a Triangle with a circle in the center of the Triangle and a line running through the center of the circle.
Griphook leaned back, his fingers twitching slightly as he studied the ancient ring.
Harry's gaze was drawn to the ring, its eerie aura captivating and unsettling. Before he could react, Griphook's voice held a note of urgency, "That, young wizard, is the Ring of Death. A relic of your Peverell lineage. No goblin would dare touch it, for it is said to be cursed to anyone, not from the Peverell line."
The goblin's cautionary words hung in the air, but Harry's curiosity was too intense to resist. He reached out, his fingers hovering over the dark surface of the ring. Griphook's eyes widened, and he seemed ready to intervene, but it was too late. With a swift motion, Harry slid the ring onto his finger.
A surge of energy coursed through Harry's body, and for a brief moment, the world around him seemed to blur. He felt an intense connection to the ring, as if it held secrets and power beyond his comprehension. His vision shifted, and his green eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, casting an eerie illumination in the room.
As the transformation subsided, Harry's breathing steadied, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Griphook watched in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on Harry.
Harry's vibrant green eyes seemed to carry the weight of ancient magic, leaving his eyes eerily luminous as if they were windows to a realm beyond—a testament to the ring's power and the blood coursing through his veins.
Griphook's voice was barely a whisper, filled with awe and a touch of fear, "You survived... the Ring of Death."
Harry's voice was steady. "I did."
Griphook's caution seemed to intensify. "You have done what no living being has done, young wizard. The legends speak of the curse, the consuming darkness that befalls those who wear the ring. And yet, here you stand."
Griphook's gaze never wavered from Harry's eyes. "It is a risk you've taken that may have consequences beyond our understanding."
Harry glanced at the Ring of Death on his finger, his eyes still glowing with an ethereal light. He couldn't shake the sensation that he had tapped into a power far older and more potent than anything he had encountered before.
Chapter 19: "Unveiling Shadows"
As the conversation progressed, an uneasy tension filled the air. Suddenly, the lead box emitted a faint, ominous hum, barely perceptible but unmistakable. Griphook's sharp ears caught the sound, and his eyes widened in alarm.
"What is this?" he exclaimed, gazing at the seemingly innocent box.
Before Harry could react, a dark energy surge erupted from the box, tendrils of malevolent magic snaking through the air. The goblin leaped back, drawing a sword from the side of his chair. The office seemed to tremble under the assault.
"Horcrux!" Griphook's voice was laced with both shock and recognition. Mr. Potter. It's a Horcrux, a fragment of a dark soul!"
The revelation hung in the air, chilling and unsettling. The lead box was no longer just a cursed artifact but a vessel containing a piece of Voldemort's very essence.
The goblin in the office, well-versed in the magical arts and dark magic, sprang into action. He summoned the goblin guard, and the guards ran into the office. Griphook explained what was happening, and the sergeant of the guards called several goblin shamans. The shamans surrounded the box and began to chant. A glowing circle appeared around the lead box, and it slowly lifted off the ground.
They took the box to the Breaking room. Griphook explains, "This is where we will remove the taint of the Horcrux.
The battle that ensued was unlike anything Harry had ever witnessed. The goblins continued to chant, and the goblin magic clashed with the dark energy of the Horcrux. The battleground of goblin magic vs. Horcrux. The goblins fought with a ferocity born from their deep-seated hate toward all forms of Necromancy.
As Harry watched, his heart pounding, he realized that the goblins were engaged in a ritual. Their magic intertwined, forming a barrier that pushed against the horcrux's power, driving it back.
With a final surge of power, the goblins chanted incantations in their ancient tongue, their voices resonating with an energy that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. A blinding light engulfed the lead box, and Harry could feel the struggle between the goblins' magic and the horcrux's malevolence.
Then, as swiftly as it had begun, the light subsided, leaving behind an eerie silence. The goblins lowered their staves, their breaths ragged but triumphant. Griphook turned to Harry, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and relief.
"We have done it, Mr. Potter. The Horcrux is destroyed."
Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his heart still racing. "Thank you, Griphook, and to all of you."
Griphook stated. "We must destroy all forms of Necromancy. Its presence cannot be allowed to stand. We are pleased to have assisted you, Mr. Potter."
Harry's gaze remained fixed on the lead box as the goblins began to disperse. The crown rested there, seemingly unchanged yet devoid of the insidious taint that once plagued it.
Griphook and Harry returned to Griphook's office to discuss Harry's finances. The door to the office was opened; they both looked at who entered the office, and Griphook stood up and bowed.
The imposing figure of King Ragnuck entered, flanked by his guard. Harry's surprise was evident as he stood before the goblin king.
King Ragnuck's eyes bore into Harry's. "Young wizard, I have heard of the battle that just took place. Do you understand what happened, Young Wizard?
Harry blinked, taken aback by the directness of the goblin king's words. "Horcruxes? I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I'm not entirely sure what they are."
The goblin king's lips quirked in a faint smile, a mix of amusement and respect. "No need to apologize, Heir Potter. Horcruxes are dark and forbidden magic, a method employed by dark wizards to split their souls and tether them to various objects. It is a way to attain immortality, albeit cheaply."
Harry's brows furrowed as he absorbed the information, his mind racing. "I see... But why are you here, Your Highness?"
King Ragnuck's gaze remained steady, a glint of intrigue in his eyes. "Because, young wizard, your encounter with the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets has revealed a truth you may not yet realize."
Harry's eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. "A truth? What do you mean?"
The goblin king's voice held a note of certainty. "Your descriptions of the events, the venom of the Basilisk, and the images you saw afterward suggest a unique phenomenon. The Basilisk's venom possesses qualities that could destroy a horcrux."
Harry's mind whirred, connecting the dots as realization dawned upon him. "Wait, are you saying that I was a Horcrux?"
King Ragnuck inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. The Basilisk's venom interacted with your curse scar, destroying Voldemort's dark magic within you. You were, in essence, a living Horcrux."
The goblin king's expression was solemn. " You are now free from the Horcrux influence."
Harry's gaze grew determined. " If what you say is true, I have already destroyed two Horcruxes, and the crown makes three."
King Ragnuck's eyes gleamed with respect and approval. " Tell me of these Horcruxes that you destroyed."
Harry looked at the King: "I destroyed the diary of Tom Riddle with the fang of the Basilisk. The basilisk venom destroyed the second Horcrux in the curse scar on my
forehead." But how did you know any of this? Only the headmaster and Madam Pomfrey.
The King's smile grew, the Goblin nation employees, Vision walkers. They are much like seers, but their information is more accessible. Vision Walker's predictions can be easily defined and understood. Seers are much closer to the truth, but you have to understand the meaning of what the Seer tells you, and much can be lost in understanding the reading.
Harry was shocked; he had never heard of Vision Walkers, and his secret was exposed. The King just smiled at Harry.
There is no need to worry, young wizard; your secrets are safe with the Goblin nation, King Ragnuck explained.
Chapter 20: "Forging an Alliance"
Harry looked at the King, and his mind was racing. "I would like to request help from the Goblin nation. I need help with learning to use my wandless magic, and I need to know how to wield a sword."
"Why should the goblin nation extend its knowledge and expertise to aid a wizard?" the King's voice rumbled through the chamber."
Harry met the King's gaze. "Your Highness, allow me to share the trials I've faced at Hogwarts. Every year, I've encountered dangerous foes that required me to use my skills to protect those I care about."
The goblins exchanged intrigued glances, curiosity etched into their features. Harry's voice carried. "In my first year, I confronted and defeated a troll to save my friend Hermione. In my second year, I faced and killed a basilisk to rescue my friend's sister."
The goblins stirred; Harry's gaze remained fixed on the King, his eyes filled with the memories of his trials. "But in my first year, I faced one of the darkest challenges. I encountered Professor Quirinus Quirrell, who was possessed by the wraith of the dark Lord Voldemort. He broke into Gringotts to steal something of great value."
The goblins erupted in outrage, their voices rising in anger and disbelief. The King's eyes blazed as he shouted above the tumult. "Quirrell broke into our bank; that was him?" "Ten guards fell that day, defending the Bank and the wizard's vault!"
Harry nodded solemnly. "Yes, Your Highness. And I killed Professor Quirrell to stop him from stealing thePhilosopher Stone."
The room fell into a charged silence. King Ragnuck's eyes bore into Harry's, his expression unreadable. "Do you have proof?"
Harry replied. "I have the memory of that day. It will show you the truth."
The King ordered a Pensieve to be brought to the office.
As the King took the memory from Harry's mind, he handed it to one of his advisors, who poured it into a Pensieve. The swirling memories unveiled the events of that fateful day, Quirrell's intrusion, his confrontation with Harry, and the revelation of the dark wraith that possessed him.
The goblins watched in silence as the memory played out before them, their expressions shifting from disbelief to acknowledgment. As the memory ended, the King's gaze fixed on Harry, with a newfound respect in his eyes.
"You've faced a troll and a basilisk," the King mused, his tone blending awe and curiosity. "And you bring us evidence of the one who breached our defenses, and "You show us honor by bringing news that those who broke into our bank are no more,"
Harry's eyes met the King. "Your Highness, I humbly request that any reward for finding those who broke into the bank be given to the families of the goblin guards who fell that day. They died to protect your realm and the wizards' vaults they guarded, and their sacrifice should be honored."
The goblins exchanged glances, murmurs of admiration passing among them. King Ragnuck regarded Harry with a newfound regard. "You think of fallen goblin guards, a gesture no wizard has made before. You show a depth of character that merits consideration."
The King leaned forward, his fingers steepled as he gazed at Harry. "Very well, Harry Potter. You've presented us with evidence, with respect for those who sacrificed for our realm. We shall agree to your request."
Harry's expression held gratitude toward the King. "Thank you, Your Highness. I understand the weight of your decision.