Un Serpent Parmi les Fleurs

A Snake Among the Flowers

-oOo-

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and everyone she has given licensing rights too. I use the permission they have given to write fanfiction, making no money and only getting the satisfaction of having others read my work.

-oOo-

Premise:

Un Serpent Parmi les Fleurs is French for 'A Snake Among the Flowers'.

Waking up in the Forbidden Forest where he had just died again, Harry realizes he has a chance to change his life and keep those he loves alive. This sets him out to do what Hermione told him he should never do.

'Horrible things have happened to wizards that have messed with time.'

After losing almost everything, Harry had to try.

Along the way, he will finally find the power 'The Dark Lord knows not'. It is not love but love just might save his soul.

This will be time travel with twists and turns.

Pairings will be Harry/Fleur and Harry/Susan.

-oOo-

Chapter 1

-oOo-

Unknown Date…

Hogwarts, Scotland

Harry was getting tired of the games the old headmaster was playing with his life.

The man had just told him he could go back from the ghostly King's Cross Station. Harry was going for his reasons, not the old goat's. The world was a bright white mist. This was the second time within minutes he had awoken in such a place. Except, this time there was a chill to the air.

Closing his eyes, he was surprised that he felt his eyes closing. He hadn't felt any sensations when talking with the old fart in King's Cross Station. He had just been. It had been rather peaceful there. He hadn't felt any of the anger he should have at the old man for setting him up to be a lamb for slaughter. Now that he had moved on, a slow simmering rage was building in him.

Opening his eyes, the world was just as blurry as it had been when he went on to that place between.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face before realizing he didn't have his glasses.

He turned his head to the side to look for them. He blinked a time or two to see the ground. Unsure what was going on, he rolled to his side with a groan. All the abuse his body had taken in the last two days was making themselves known. He could feel the numerous bruises, cuts and what was probably a separated rib or two pulse through his body.

Aside from his groan, the only other sound was the dead leaves crackling below him.

"The bloody wanker didn't say it would hurt to come back," he whinged.

Until he could find his glasses, the world was out of focus within twenty feet of him. He had always been good at finding the snitch because he was far sighted, but nearly blind up close. He needed his glasses.

Patting his pocket for a wand, he was relieved to find one. Pulling it out, he flicked it. The silent accio had his glasses flying into his hand. They must have been a good ten or more feet away. He hadn't remembered taking them off before…

Suddenly remembering where he was and why he was here, Harry rolled over, came into a crouch, jammed his mangled glasses onto his face, then whipped the hawthorn wand around the clearing, ready to fire off any spell that might save him.

The world really was a white-grey haze.

It took him a moment to realize the dark shapes coming from the ground and looming over him were massive trees.

He blinked a few times.

He was all alone.

He was all alone, the thought struck him.

Had all the Death Eaters just left him here? Why would Voldemort leave his body here. The man was known to gloat and what would he have more to gloat about than the dead body of Harry Potter?

Looking around again, he could tell by the light in the forest, the sun was up, and he was in a dense fog.

Unsure if he should make a sound or not, he fell back to the habits that had kept Hermione, Ron and him alive since last August. He swished his wand then tapped it on his chest, silently casting a silencing charm on himself. He then ran his wand down his body, making himself odourless. Finally, he tapped his wand over his head to dissolution himself. He knew his cloak would work better, but the charm allowed for free movement at a moment's notice without the chance of his wand arm or head getting caught in the material when milliseconds could be the difference between life and death.

It was a lesson that they had learned the hard way over the last year.

He then cast a few revealing spells. He wasn't as good as Hermione, but he wasn't a slouch either. There wasn't a wizard or witch within a hundred yards. He turned his head to look in the direction that a spell revealed some arachnids not far off. They must be big too.

Swallowing, he realized that not all the acromantula had been driven from their nest.

Laying the wand flat in his hand, he cast one of the few spells that needs words, even though they tried this one non-verbally many times. "Point me Hogwarts."

The hawthorn wand turned to point a little towards his left. Luckily it would take him away from the acromantula. It took him nearly ten minutes to find his way to the edge of the forest. In the thick fog, the only reason he knew he had reached the edge of the woods was because the trees thinned then abruptly stopped. The leaf litter turned into partially green grass.

The bell in the clock tower rang, echoing in the fog banks.

Harry was confused. He had seen the clock tower fall when the giants had attacked the courtyard.

He was even more confused when the sounds of hundreds of students came to him from the direction of the castle. Across the grounds came the muffled murmurs of conversations, ringing laughter and the general feel as though they hadn't a care in the world. He couldn't quiet grasp that there were no screams and shouts of pain and anger. Nor was there the general cacophony of battle.

He moved back against a tree when he heard people walking towards the school. His mouth dropped open when he heard three distinct voices that had him thinking he had gotten on the train to go on instead of going back.

"Thicker than porridge it is," a much younger Ron whinged.

He saw the shapes come out of the mist. They were at the head of a group of Gryffindors, with a group of Slytherin walking a little faster on the far side of the path. He had to keep himself from not sending a piercing hex through a half dozen people he recognized. The only thing that kept him from doing so was that they all looked to be thirteen or fourteen.

A sinking feeling was pooling in his gut.

"It allowed us to see the bowtruckles in the trees though. Hagrid says they usually run if they can see you coming," Hermione noted.

"I still swear I saw an acromantula in the mist though," a much younger and scrawnier him stated.

The much younger Ron shivered.

"What the bloody fuck? Did I fall on a time turner?" he asked himself as the class disappeared into the mist on their way to the school.

In his addled mind from not sleeping for almost two days, breaking into Gringotts, fighting a battle for hours then mostly dying, he was having a challenging time understanding what was going on.

The fact he had just come from a battle, and had been on the run for a year now and managed to survive everything Voldemort had thrown at him, his body reacted without thinking when a strong magical presence suddenly appeared behind him. He spun about, his wand coming up and landing just between the eyes of a bearded old man who had flared into existence from a fiery ball. Fawkes screeched at him as a man Harry had trusted looked a little surprised at him.

"Who the hell are you!?" Harry demanded. Even though he had just seen himself four years younger, he had learned to never take anything for granted.

Fawkes squawked angrily at him before landing on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore took a step back and Harry stepped with him, keeping his wand pointed at the man's forehead.

"Tell me who you are, or I will blast your head all over the grass," Harry demanded.

This time the man looked a little curious. "It has been many a year since someone got a jump on me."

"Cut the crap! Who are you?"

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes looked right into his. He felt the slight pressure and did all he could to fight it off. Dumbledore's more congenial manner turned a little less friendly. "I think I should be asking that question. You have gotten past the dementors and wards that should keep unannounced visitors off the grounds."

Harry blinked. "Dementors?"

That explained the chill and the mist.

"Yes. The minister, in his infinite wisdom, has posted dementors around the school to protect the students. You see, an extremely dangerous prisoner escaped, and they are hunting for him. Though, I am wondering if Black is not the real enemy they should be looking for. Could you please tell me who you are and how you got on the grounds? There are almost four hundred students under my protection, and I would not want them to see them hurt," Dumbledore said.

Harry felt really confused. The dementors had only been posted around the school… it then hit him where, or more specifically when, he was. "Sirius?" he managed to choke out. The deaths of Sirius and Dobby were his greatest personal griefs. The destruction of Hogwarts and the deaths from the battle he wasn't sure who to blame yet. It was still too fresh and raw and… hadn't happened.

Harry took a stumbling step back.

Dumbledore didn't move.

Harry put his hands on his knees and his head down. "Bloody hell! This is my third year."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked. When Harry didn't reply, Dumbledore said, "Do you know Sirius Black?"

Harry gave a half-crazed laugh. "Yeah, I knew him. What date is it?"

"It is May sixth, nineteen-ninety-four. What do you mean you knew him? You do not look old enough. Who are you?" Dumbledore questioned, this time with a little bit of a harder tone to his voice.

Harry stood up. Seeing the man that had led so many to their deaths had him going through an internal struggle. Up until an hour or two ago, he never would have believed it, but Dumbledore had played them all to see Voldemort defeated.

His emotions must have played across his face because Dumbledore took on a profoundly serious look and his wand came to his hand.

"Are you just going to kill me this time or are you going to wait to send me to Voldemort to die at the right time like you planned for me since the night you left me on my relatives' doorstep?" Harry bitterly asked, not raising his wand.

Dumbledore kept the elder wand at his side, looking shocked this time at what Harry had just said.

Harry was furious at the man as he waited for a response.

After a moment, Dumbledore said, "I see. A broken time turner accident?"

Harry gave a dark chuckle. "Try a killing curse," he said, rubbing his chest.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Harry replied.

"And you were hit by another killing curse?"

"Yeah. Just like you wanted. You wanted all the horcruxes dead and waited for me to be last…"

Harry didn't hesitate as his wand came up. He had been expecting something to happen. He wouldn't be so easily distracted like he used to be.

Dumbledore may have the strongest wand in the world and have decades of duelling experience and power to spare, but Harry had just come off a battlefield after a year on the run, not to mention now that the horcrux was gone, he had a power reserve to match the old man, even with Dumbledore having the elder wand.

Harry's wand was up and two spells leapt from it. He sidestepped the two stunners sent at him before the white hammer of a shield smasher crashed through a hastily erected shield by Dumbledore. The ground around Dumbledore was pulling up as his shield fell and didn't block the wispy white spell of an obliviate. Harry hit him with a stunner as the man's face blanked.

Fawkes had taken off, but failed to block Harry's spells. The fiery bird screeched at Harry, who responded by sending an ice spear at the bird. It pierced the phoenix's chest, which caused it to burst into flame and ashes. Harry felt guilty, but after how Dumbledore had set him to like a pig for slaughter, there was no way the arse was Light enough to earn the allegiance of a higher phoenix.

If he was wrong, the bird would be reborn and hate him while still being with Dumbledore.

Either way, the new chick wouldn't be bothering him for a bit.

"Professor!" the booming voice of Hagrid called out.

Harry couldn't be found here, and he couldn't see Hagrid. Rushing over, he grabbed Dumbledore's wand, which sent a flush of power through him. It was a power that crawled over his skin, making him feel dirty. The wand called for blood. Harry threw it at Dumbledore side.

If he had been in his right mind, he probably would have brought the wand with him to hide, but he was just too tired to do anything but go with his body's visceral reaction to the wands magic.

For reasons he would never understand, he scooped up the baby phoenix that was rising out of the ashes. Clutching Fawkes to his chest, he ran off into the woods.

Fang barked behind him.

-oOo-

Later that day…

London, England

Harry found his way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest far beyond the walls of the school and where the dementors patrolled. London was a long apparition hop away and finding a place to eat was easy once he realized he still had the three tenner's Hermione had made sure they all should have. It wasn't long before he sat in a booth of a small restaurant with his head in his hands. He had just used half of the money he had left for a hot fish fry. It was the best thing he had had to eat in months.

Besides needing food, he needed to collect himself and come up with a plan.

It started with him berating himself. Hermione really was right. He did just run into situations and react.

Now that it had been a few hours, Harry could clearly see he should have obliviated Dumbledore of the last hundred years, not just the memory of the encounter. The man deserved an ignominious end to his life like Lockhart.

He also should not have left the Elder wand. The only reason he could parse out was that he knew that a wizard using another wizard's wand would never work as well. Using Draco's hawthorn wand was an example. It worked reasonably well, but was nothing like his broken holly wand. The mismatch between Dumbledore and the wand should throw the man off, and if anyone else defeated him, they would not know why the wand was not working the way it was advertised. Not to mention Harry wanted nothing to do with the evil thing.

Still, the elder wand was too powerful for anyone to possess. Harry would have to get it back at some point.

He should have also found out how Dumbledore knew he was at Hogwarts, since he clearly hadn't always known things when Harry had been in school… though Harry was starting to second guess that.

Then there was the question of why he grabbed Fawkes. What was he going to do with a phoenix when it grew older? More importantly, what in the bloody hell had possessed him to grab it? Dumbledore would surely recognize his familiar and Harry would never keep the bird away from the man. He knew all too well the attachment of a familiar.

So far though, the little chick had only cooed happily and not made a fuss before falling asleep in his pocket.

What he needed now was to figure out if he had any other resources. He currently had Draco's old wand, his invisibility cloak, the clothes on his back, his Moke skin pouch that held an assortment of odds, ends and about ten galleons worth of coins, and the twelve quid in his pocket.

What was he going to do with that? It was less than they had in Hermione's beaded bag.

Of equal important was that he needed to know if he had truly gone back to his past or if this was something else? Hermione had said horrible things had happened to people that meddled with time. When he asked her what, she had stopped in the middle of the corridor, looked troubled and then said, "Actually, I don't know. There are just warnings against it."

Ron, in his ability to cut to the simplest things, questioned, "Why the warning then if you don't know what happens?"

She had bitten her lip. "I don't know."

It would be a few weeks later that she mentioned that there was nothing in any of the books on time travel except theory on possible alternate realities or timelines. That would mean that there would be infinite number of mirror realities where things either played out the same or diverge. Harry would be the first to admit that it mostly went over his head, but now that he was living one of her scenarios, he wasn't sure if it might be true.

He figured the only way to find out if it was true would be to find what had happened in the current time he was in, then see what happens if he messes with things. There was no way he was going to let his other self live through the dementors, the Triwizard Tournament, Umbridge or the last year when he had been on the run.

To do that, he needed resources.

He couldn't make any plans until he knew what he had to work with.

Once he had made up his mind, he left the shop and apparated to the alley by the Leaky Cauldron.

Feeling better with food in his system, he mused him himself with a little-known fact. Per Hermione, apparition has a limit based on the wizard's power. Most can comfortably apparate seventy to a hundred miles in a single hop. The most powerful maybe a hundred fifty. When trying to figure out how far Harry could go so they knew what to expect when escaping snatchers and Death Eaters, he had taken them from a forest north of Manchester to London. After finding a map, Hermione had calculated the hop was nearly two hundred miles. The two times he had side-a-longed with Dumbledore, they figured it had been nearly four-hundred miles from Scotland to the cave.

It had shocked them to realize he was at least twice as powerful as the average wizard, and Dumbledore even more so.

During his random musing, he realized he had just done the same thing Dumbledore had. He didn't have time to really think on that, so he filed that away to figure it out later. Things were screwed up enough since he had had taken the killing curse to his chest that he didn't need this mystery too.

Walking to the Leaky Cauldron, he was able to get through without much fuss. No one expected to see a seventeen-year-old Harry Potter. Why would they? Harry Potter… the real Harry Potter… the Potter of this world, was only thirteen, so most just thought this older Harry a young man here on business.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that he approached Gringotts. To him, it had been less than forty-eight hours since he had ridden a dragon out of the bank's lobby. His nervousness must not have been that noticeable as the guards outside didn't look at him any differently. When he approached a teller, the goblin held out its hand without looking up.

"Key, please," it asked while still writing in a leger.

Harry opened his Moke skin pouch and took out his key. He didn't say a thing as the goblin took the key, examined it, then looked up. He then passed the key over a stone on his desk, waited for something Harry couldn't see, then Harry tried not to frown when the goblin frowned. The goblin's black eyes didn't betray what the goblin was thinking. "You are Harry Potter?"

He stood a little taller. Hopefully he could bullshit his way through this. Luckily, there was only one other witch in the bank right now. "I am."

The goblin just stared at him for a moment before closing the large leger, waved his hand over it, then hopped down from his chair as it disappeared. "Follow, please."

He took it as an encouraging sign that alarms weren't going off and he wasn't being poked with any blades. Harry followed the rapidly moving goblin to a side door, down two halls and then stopped outside a darkly polished, heavy wooden door. The goblin knocked. When he entered without getting any noticeable sign to do so, Harry was motioned to follow.

There was a small office behind the door. A few bookcases with tomes, legers and scrolls were off to one side of the room, a large desk for a goblin was in the centre and three chairs were arrayed before the desk. A rather aged goblin in a dark blue suit adorned with many gold and silver chains and drooping ears sat behind the desk.

The two goblins spoke gobbledegook for a moment before the teller put Harry's key on the desk. "Account Manager Gripsac will talk with you."

"Thank you," he said.

"Take a seat, Mister Potter," the aged goblin said, indicating one of the hard back chairs.

The teller gave Harry a nod of his head before leaving the room and closing the door.

Harry took a seat, unsure what this was all about. "Did I do something wrong?"

The goblin leaned back in his chair, touching the tips of his fingers together before tapping the pointer fingers on his wide mouth. "I find this interesting."

Harry waited anxiously. He wouldn't steal from his younger self, but he needed funds. Not sure if he should play stupid or not, Harry figured the goblins might be easier to deal with if he was straight forward. "I know that is the key to my vault. There should be one other key. I can swear that I do not intent to steal anything that is not mine already."

The black eyes of Gripsac bored into him. "Nothing you have said is untruthful, but there is a problem."

"Like what?" Harry questioned.

"Your magic signature is different than what we have recorded in the past, yet is similar enough to be you. This key is registered to you and your trust vault, but the last I knew, Harry Potter is only thirteen. He could not be an adult wizard. Not even aging potion could fool our magic. Who are you?" Gripsac questioned.

Harry frowned. "Would you believe me that I am Harry Potter, but from a different time?"

He hoped this wouldn't blowup in his face.

Gripsac still looked rather calm and unbothered. "The change in your magical signature does seem to be what we see as people age over time." The goblin frowned. "This is not some simple time turner or other time spell, is it? Even we have not been able to determine how to send anyone back further than a few days."

Harry quirked a brow at the goblin. "I can honestly say that I did not use a time turner. You have tried time travel before?"

Gripsac didn't comment on his question. "We have a problem."

Harry frowned, reaching for his wand. "What kind of problem?"

Leaning forward, Gripsac reached out to tap the key. "There can only be one Harry Potter."

Harry swallowed. "Meaning?"

"Either we kill you, the other Harry Potter is eliminated, or you claim you are someone else."

Harry had a sinking feeling. "I am not killing my younger self, and I have no intentions of dying."

"I figured not." Gripsac tapped the key again. "You have no other name you can claim?"

"Ah, not that I know of," Harry said.

After a moment, Gripsac nodded his head.

"Very well. Prick your finger and place a smear on this parchment," Gripsac said. He put a long pick on the table that came to a needle point.

"Does it have to be blood?" Harry questioned, having dealt with blood magic more than he ever wanted in his life already.

"Unless you would like to take one of the first two options, you will need to press a blood print onto this parchment."

"Why?" he asked dubiously.

"It is to determine your magical parentage. It will be far easier for us to ritually change your name if you are related to another family or can claim headship of another family. You do not have the funds for us to make up a new lineage," Gripsac explained.

Still feeling very unsure of this, but not wanting to consider murder or suicide, he did as instructed. When he pressed his bloody thumb print to the paper, it eagerly soaked up his blood. Harry could also feel the slight drain on his magic until he hastily removed his thumb.

The wound healed within seconds.

Gripsac watched as the blood splotch slowly grew into a gnarled, twisted branching family tree. Every inch or so, two small lines of runes would appear. Harry had no clue what it said, but Gripsac just kept watching. When the twisted tree had gone about halfway down the parchment, there were three lines that ended, while others continued to go further.

"What does it say?" Harry queried.

Pushing his chair back, Gripsac stood up without a word and walked over to one of the shelves. Pulling out a large, red leather-bound book, he opened the front cover, read the first page, then put it back. He did these two other times before moving back to the desk with a black leather-bound book.

He put the book on the table and moved the pick towards him again. "Prick your finger and then touch it to the crest on this book."

Harry looked at the book, curious to see an impressed herald that had a knight's helm above a shield with a faded red diagonal stripe over blue and yellow horizontal stripes. A wand lay across the red stripe.

"What is it?" he asked.

"According to this parchment, you have the right to take over three houses by conquest. Magic will only recognize you as head of one of them without a blood adoption. Your Potter line has other inheritances, but if you were to take them up, the Potter name would die as any name absorbed into the bloodline can only be used as the dominant name," Gripsac explained.

His brow rose. "Meaning I would have to kill Harry Potter still?"

The goblin gave a toothless grin that made Harry uncomfortable. "That is still a viable option."

Harry shook his head. "Which house is this?"

"You have the supremacy rights over the House of Malfoy, Lestrange and Gaunt," the goblin explained.

"Bloody fuck no!" Harry shouted, jumping up and knocking the chair over.

Gripsac just sat back, not looking impressed. "If you do not like the house of Gaunt, you can claim the others. I would not recommend the house of Malfoy. You have rights through conquest, but the current head and heir are also in line for some reason. They would have the right to challenge you. The Lestranges have some large debts I would not recommend you taking on, as well as the same complication as the Malfoys.

The house of Gaunt is a clean claim, meaning either the old heir is dead, the challenge clauses give up all rights of the old heir or you have defeated him three times."

Harry scowled. "I am not taking over the Gaunts! Do you know who is the last of that house?"

The goblin's grin was more predatory now. "Gringotts has known for some time about the last Gaunt. I cannot talk about their holdings unless you accept your regency through conquest. Once you bind your blood to the accounts, then we can talk."

Harry got his temper under control after a long moment of taking in some deep breaths. The goblins knew who Tom Riddle, thus Voldemort, is! They probably also knew the wanker was still alive. What he didn't get was… "How the fuck did I win the regency of Malfoy and Lestrange through conquest?"

"That I cannot tell you, but magic clearly recognizes your claim," Griphook said, showing the parchment.

Harry looked down at it, going through his head as to what this meant… he knew he had potentially killed a few Death Eaters in the battle. Could he have defeated one of the Lestrange brothers? He also didn't remember killing Lucius, but he could have. Harry wouldn't really have been sad at either death.

"How do you gain a house through conquest?" Harry asked.

"You defeat the heir or regent of the house three times in deadly combat, kill the last heir or win the right through an agreed upon duel," Gripsac explained.

He swallowed.

He had beaten Mister Malfoy that night Dobby had tried to come to his aid. He had stunned Malfoy at the battle of the DOM, even breaking the man's wand, but couldn't think of another time he had won. He could only assume he had killed one or both Lestrange brothers at the Battle of Hogwarts, but he had come back in time, so did that not count?

He knew, without doubt, he had definitely defeated Tom more than three times. Hell, by the time he was thirteen, he had already done it three times.

"Bloody fuck," he muttered.

Harry heavily sat in the chair.

"Unless you want to kill yourself, then you need to put some blood on this book to bind yourself to the account. You can then take up the regency ring and take on the name of Gaunt," Gripsac told him.

Looking at the book, Harry felt very dirty about this, but as he thought about it, what irony would it be for him to take over everything Voldemort might have? He knew the man highly prized his heritage, as much as he hated his mother and the rest of his family.

As sick as it made him feel, Harry could also see the sick satisfaction in it too.

Tom had killed off his family and had continuously tried to end the Potter name. If Harry could return the favour...

"What do I gain by doing this?"

"I can't discuss anything with you until you take the bloodline of Gaunt as your own or claim the titles and regency of your house and kill the current heir," Gripsac told him.

Harry growled. With a quick movement, he grabbed the pick, jammed it into his thumb again, not even wincing at the pain as he drove it in far further than it should, then jammed his dripping, bleeding thumb onto the crest.

He felt the magic right away. Something in his scar called to the foreign magic that rose to fight him off. Harry, not willing to submit to anything anymore, wrestled the magic and brought it to heel almost as fast as it had tried to take him over. His scar stopped hurting as the magic settled in him.

He was sure that the horcrux was gone, but he must had kept some of the dark wanker's magic.

His hand glowed white before there was a small thunderclap and a rush of more power. Harry groaned at the discomfort.

Gripsac rose a brow. "That was quicker and more decisive than I had expected."

"Tell me what I need to know," Harry demanded, not in the mood for entertaining the goblin.

The goblin's toothless grin was more unsettling than before. "Well, Mister Gaunt, let's go over your accounts, the powers granted to you as being an ancient family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and what you might want to do with other members of your family."

Harry's brow rose. "Other members of my family?"

Gripsac reached for the book. It took a few more seconds than last time for his thumb to heal while there was a bloody smear still on the crest of the book.

"This is the official family account book for the Gaunt family at Gringotts. This current volume was started in seventeen-forty-three. The listing of heirs and branch lines come down to only two people." He opened the book. Harry saw the twisting vines and branches of a family tree on the inside of the cover. This time it was in a language he could read. The branches went to the edge of the page. Griphook started to leaf through the pages. Each time he turned a page, the family tree continued. He watched as the lines ended on the sixth page. They dwindled to only two names.

'Harry James Gaunt' had a thick tangle of vines around it. All the other lines led to him. While one 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' had a broken tangle with a single withered vine attached to the main branch.

"You are the primary heir now. If you wish to take up regency, you will have the rights to cast any other family members from your bloodline. Any you cast out will no longer be considered a Gaunt, losing all familiar connections to any moneys, heirlooms, properties, inheritances and will be unable to pass any of the family magics on. You cannot reclaim any magic they might already have though," Gripsac explained.

Harry grinned. "I wish to take up the regency."

"Very good. I will send a runner to retrieve the family ring from the vaults," Gripsac said.

Harry's brow scrunched. "Wait. I thought the Gaunts were penniless and destitute?"

Gripsac was still grinning. "The last regent of the house died penniless. The family vaults had been closed and all the heirlooms sold off. The last heir was rather busy working to restore the house, including adding more than a hundred heirlooms to the vaults," Gripsac said, turning the pages. "He also made quite a few large deposits over the thirty-eight years the heir had to repopulate the new vaults."

Harry blinked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know where the money and heirlooms had come from. "How much are we talking?"

Griphook was about halfway through the book when he stopped. His finger ran down the page. "Four million three hundred and fifty-seven galleons, eight hundred thousand and seventy-three sickles and one million two hundred and seventy-nine knuts."

Harry's mouth went dry. "Merlin! That's more than I used to have."

Gripsac shook his head. "I should not talk about other clients, but the Potters are just as wealthy."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Mister Gaunt, but I really can't say more about it," Gripsac told him.

"There was no way there was that much wealth in my vault," Harry hotly replied.

"That was just a trust vault. It is standard for one to be set up for an heir and other family members," Gripsac told him.

Harry growled out as though it was a curse, "Dumbledore!"

"Mister Gaunt, I really can't talk about another client, but there is a substantial amount for you to handle here and it has sat mostly idle since nineteen-eighty-one. May I suggest ways to invest and handle your estate?" Gripsac said.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "How much?"

Gripsac grinned again. "A modest fee, I promise."

Harry trusted the goblins as far as he could throw them. "Only if I get to read the contract and make changes. First, how do I disown Riddle?"

"I will get the ritual room ready for you to attempt for the regency and then you can wear the family ring as proof," Gripsac told him. "Once that is done, we will teach you. For a fee, of course."

Harry's mouth twitched at the goblin's cheek.

-oOo-

That night…

London, England

Harry sat on the edge of the hotel bed. He hadn't wanted to stay at the Leaky Cauldron, just in case he hadn't escaped all notice. Harry also just needed to get away from the magical world.

He was tired of running and wanted a hot shower, another hot meal and to sleep in a normal bed for the next week.

Now that he wasn't running on adrenaline, everything that had happened to him the last few days hit him. He had come from a war into the past and was unsure what he could do…

Images ran across his eyes as he closed them tight: the bodies in the great hall. Hermione kissing Ron. The Weasley's wailing for George's and Bill's bodies…

His eyes burned.

So many had died.

He felt like a knife was piercing his heart to think of Hermione…

He squeezed his eyes as tightly as he could. He had been taught many years ago not to cry. He had the scars to remind him of those lessons.

He was now on his own, all alone, the horcruxes were still all there and his other self had the potential of four more years of hell if he didn't do anything about it.

As the visions of death and destruction threatened to overtake him, Harry felt a panic attack coming on. Usually Hermione would help him, but with the Hermione he knew being four years in the future and having chosen the redhead and not him...

His breaths became shallow, and the pain built in his chest. He knew he couldn't fall apart now.

There was too much to do.

That didn't keep him from having a total mental break down that night.

-oOo-

Next time on Un Serpent Parmi les Fleurs: As Harry searches for resources, he finds more than expected while making his first move to make things right…

-oOo-

A/N: A new story from one of my dribbles.

At time of this posting, I am actively working on Dance of the Veela and The Magic of Amber. Duel of Fate is being a bitch to my muse and I have no clue when it will have more too it.

The last few months have been very busy with my family and work, so my muse has not been very cooperative. I am hoping that polishing this story and releasing it will help to jump start my muse on everything, as I have written precious little since August. The first 9 chapters are done and I think it will be around 20 chapters, but who knows.

I plan on a one to two-week posting schedule for now, but as you know, things do not always work out the way I plan.

Please enjoy.

WolfgangNH - 23 Nov 24