Author's Note: Apologies for how long this last chapter took. I'm attempting to do a weekly update(because deadlines are good for you), but the middle of this chapter just didn't want to be written! On another note, I'm headed for Seattle on Thursday, so I don't know how much I'll manage to get written between now and then.

Giving a shout out to two different fanfics that have helped and influenced how I'm going to be handling the magical Houses. First, A Marauder's Plan by CatsAreCool, and secondly, Families and Familiars by Sherza. Go give those a read as as well, they're pretty good!

Also, a shout out to Harry Crow by robst from whom I got Account Manager Barchoke's name. I've read the fic too much to imagine the account manager with any other name.

Chapter 6: Bastardized Soul Magic is a bitch

Account Manager Barchoke's office is just as she remembers.

The Potter Family crest is embedded into the wood of the door in bronze metal, the motto just below it on a banner in English, for all that is was originally Welsh.

Honor, loyalty, pride

In the middle of the crest is the Potter family animal; a rearing peryton with falcon wings spread wide. Evelyn finds it a little funny, given that her father ended up being a stag animagus. She wonders how much of a laugh he had when he discovered that. Something to possibly ask Sirius, once she figures out how to get him out of Azkaban.

Griphook knocks three times on the door before pushing it open. "Warrior Potter to meet with you, Account Manager," he announces, then backs out and bows Evelyn. "Honor and glory to you, Warrior Potter."

"Wealth and honor to you, Teller Griphook," she returns, only dipping her head. Inside the office, she sees Barchoke jolt at her obvious use of his native tongue. She marches in, Dudley still silent at her heels. She stops at the appropriate distance from Barchoke's death and bows, saying, "Wealth and honor to you, Account Manager Barchoke." She straightens to continue. "My apologies for coming unannounced, but the trip was unexpected."

Barchoke stares at her, pen held limply in his hand. Then he seems to come back to himself, because he stands and bows back. "Honor and glory to you, Warrior Potter."

"No disrespect intended, but may we continue in English? My cousin does not know your language and he will need to understand some of what I wish to cover in our discussion."

Barchoke clears his throat. "Of course. I was unaware you knew our language, Warrior Potter."

She can't help that a grin spreads across her lips at his obvious confusion. "I didn't learn it until I was twenty, but having Soul Magic used on you tends to muck with personal timelines."

He blinks. "You are the reason the bank's alarms went off."

"Guilty as charged. King Ragnok took exception to the fact. We sorted it out and now he's having your Curse Breakers looking into making sure I don't do that every time I want visit. That'd be just a bit annoying for all of us."

"Indeed." He clears his throat again, then makes a gesture and two chairs appear in front of his desk. "Sit. It appears we have much to discuss."

Evelyn happily does so, motioning for Dudley to do the same. He gingerly sinks into the chair, eyeing Barchoke warily. "I suppose I ought to do introductions, as you both already know who I am. Dudley, this is Account Manager Barchoke. He's in charge of House Potter's vaults. Account Manager Barchoke, this is my cousin Dudley Vernon Dursley. His mother and mine were sisters."

Barchoke nods. "A Miss Petunia Evans, if I recall correctly."

"Yeah, that's my mum," Dudley says. "How'd you know that?"

"I assume my mum mentioned her once or twice?" Evelyn inquires, looking expectantly at Barchoke.

"She did, although it was more because she wanted to make sure you, Warrior Potter, never ended up in her sister's care. The late Lady Potter was rather adamant on that fact." The goblin frowns. "Yet, you come to me with your cousin by your side."

"Yeah, my so called Magical Guardian decided to tweak the protection spell my mother cast when she saved me and anchored it around my aunt's house. Couldn't put me anywhere else, according to him." Her smile turns grim. "I know that's why he blocked having my parents' final Will read."

Barchoke's expression goes murderous. "Does the old fool understand nothing?" he seethes. "Tampering with already cast blood magic is dangerous even for someone of the bloodline! He could have easily killed both you and himself!"

Evelyn sighs, propping her elbow on the arm of the chair and resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "He meant well, for all that he's rather more uninformed than he believes himself to be. The way he worked his additions in made it so that no followers of Riddle could approach the house, thus supposedly ensuring my safety."

"Riddle?"

"Ah, I forgot it's not common knowledge yet." She bares her teeth in a parody of a smile. "Dark Lord Voldemort was born as the half-blood Tom Marvolo Riddle to a Squib mother and muggle father. I rather enjoyed throwing that in his face every time we met. He was Heir Slytherin as well, for all that he truly squandered away that particular asset."

There's a sharp crack as the pen Barchoke had been holding snaps in two. "What, exactly, do you mean by throwing that in his face every time you met?" he demands. "The dark one is gone. Because of your mother's sacrifice, he was defeated."

"Key word, defeated," Evelyn points out. "Not killed, defeated. Dumbledore's a rather good master at word play, given that he used it on himself. He's the Defeater of Grindelwald, hence the locking him up in Nurmengard instead of killing him off. Riddle, the bloody bastard, used—"

She chokes on her next words.

Horcruxes are most definitely Soul Magic, but there's been one sitting in a vault for years now. Not to mention, she managed to walk in multiple times with one lodged in her forehead without setting off the alarms. How any of that's possible, she has no bloody clue.

"Warrior Potter?"

"You've had a Horcrux in your bank for at least ten years now," she says hoarsely.

A moment of stunned silence hangs in the air before Barchoke erupts.

"WHAT?! You dare presume—!"

"I will swear it on my magic if that's what it takes to make you believe me, but I know for a fact that there is one here, given that I stole it from its vault last time!" she shouts over him, slamming her hands onto his desk.

This, of course, is not taken well by Barchoke. He hadn't really taken it well the last time either, but then at least he'd understood the terror Riddle had been inspiring and the strangle hold the bloody bastard had had on the country. "You stole—"

"Yes I stole something from Gringotts! That dragon-shite excuse of a wizard had taken over the Ministry and had guards posted all over the bank! Forgive me for not asking nicely if I could just waltz in and take a piece of his fucking soul with me! Furthermore, your shit wards apparently couldn't even detect that I had another piece of his soul lodged in my forehead and I visited multiple times! Explain that to me, you bastard!" She stands there panting heavily after finishing her tirade, glaring at him while daring him to make any sort of counter. She's already done this with him, so she's fairly certain she can best anything he tries.

"Which vault?" Barchoke bites out through clenched teeth.

Evelyn grins viciously. "Oh, this is actually something I can help with." She draws herself upright and loosens the hold she's been keeping on her magic as a courtesy. This is one of those times the paranoia of House Black is actually helpful. "As Heiress Presumptive Evelyn Rosalie of House Black, I demand payment from House Lestrange for allowing Lady Bellatrix Druella of House Lestrange, formerly of House Black, to pledge her life and soul to someone other than Lord Black." Snapping her fingers, a replica of Helga Hufflepuff's cup appears on his desk. "Take only this and I will consider the payment from House Lestrange to House Black at least partially paid. As I say, so mote it be." The oath snaps into place and her magic pulses with dark satisfaction, as pleased as she is. "A soul for a soul. Rather poetic, actually."

"If you are lying…" Barchoke trails off, apparently unable to come up with a suitable threat.

"And what, exactly, would I gain by lying about this?" she asks, settling back down in her chair. "The last thing I want is to be on Gringotts' bad side. Did that once already, would rather not repeat the experience." A glance to her right shows Dudley pale white, wide eyes darting nervously between her and Barchoke. She'd gotten so sucked up in her argument with Barchoke that she'd forgotten that he wouldn't have a clue what they were going on about, only that they were shouting rather heatedly back and forth. "Sorry, Dud. I really didn't mean to subject you to all that."

He startles violently at suddenly being addressed. "We're not going to get kicked out?" he squeaks, hurriedly clearing his throat right afterwards as his cheeks flush red.

"No, we're not," she assures him. "Just having a discussion about other soul pieces that bastard Riddle hid away, specifically the one here at the bank."

"Some discussion," he mumbles back, tugging absentmindedly at the hem of his shirt.

"It's Soul Magic, cousin," she says. "It's Soul Magic and that piece never once set off the bank's alarms. Nor did the one I had in my forehead, for that matter."

Dudley shudders. "I'd really rather forget about that one, thanks."

"You have one in your forehead?" Barchoke demands.

Evelyn waves a hand through the air. "Don't worry about that one. It's been taken care of."

Barchoke stands up, expression torn between thunderous and horrified. "You do not simply take care of a Horcrux in a living vessel, you need to be seen by our Healers—"

"Account Manager Barchoke," she cuts him off, "believe me when I say that it has been dealt with. Again, I will swear on my magic if that's what it'll take to get you to believe it, but that piece of Riddle's soul is far beyond his reach." She fixes him with a flat look. "Or is the fact that it's in Lady Hela's possession not good enough for you?"

He abruptly sits back down. "Lady Hela?"

"Of Helheim," she adds blandly. "I'm her Avatar here on Midgard, so it makes sense that she wouldn't want a piece of a murderer's soul stuck in my forehead."

"Wait, so that winged woman from last night worked for Hela?" Dudley asks, his voice only slightly catching on Hela's name.

Evelyn scowls, disliking the unknown woman for all that she instinctively trusted her the night before. That instinctive trust, whenever it happens, puts her on edge until she figures out why she trusts the person. Unfortunately, she doesn't think she'll be getting an answer to that any time soon. "I assume so. Her magic felt familiar for all that I've never seen her before in my life. Hela never mentioned having any Valkyrie working for her before, but what do I know? We never really talked anyways. She just grabbed me and dumped me into her father's lap. I only ever saw her sparingly after that, and it was always on her terms."

The clearing of a throat draws her attention back to Barchoke.

"Warrior Potter, I give you my word that we will discuss whatever it is you wish to discuss before you leave today, but first—"

"You'd like to do something about the Horcrux?" she finishes for him with a knowing expression. She doesn't exactly blame him. She'd practically begged for the one in her forehead to be removed, after all.

"Indeed. To know we have such vileness here?" Barchoke shudders. "If you would be willing to accompany me to the Lestrange Vault, I imagine the process will go much more swiftly than if I went by myself."

"It would give me great pleasure to see that filthy piece of shit dealt with," she says, sliding gracefully out of her chair. "Dudley, do you want to come with or wait here? We shouldn't be too long either way."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd really rather stay here," Dudley answers. "Excitement seems to follow you everywhere and I'd like to avoid anymore, thanks."

Evelyn can't help throwing her head back and laughing. "I hate break it to you, cousin, but these past two days have been rather mild, considering what I grew up with and experienced later in life."

He scowls at her. "That's something I could've gladly gone without knowing, Eve."

"It's something you'll have to learn to deal with if you plan on sticking around!" she sings before following Barchoke out of his office. She lets the silence that falls over them settle, not wanting to intrude on any thoughts Barchoke is trying to process. She has, unintentional though it was, heaped a bunch onto his plate rather abruptly. Best to let him deal with at his own pace.

However, he did stop them briefly when they crossed paths with some guards.

"Have King Ragnok and Account Manager Bogrod meet us at Vault 238 without delay," he instructs. "Along with any high level Curse Breakers King Ragnok deems necessary given the magicks Warrior Potter has."

"At once, Account Manager Barchoke." They both bow to him, then bow to her. "Warrior Potter." And with that, they turn and jog off to other parts of the bank while she and Barchoke make for the mine carts.

"Oh bother, we're going to go under that stupid waterfall, aren't we?" she grumbles under her breath. She only just remembered the waterfall they'd had to go through to get to the Lestrange vault. The bloody thing had nearly undone all their hard work to get into Gringotts in the first place!

"I take it you're acquainted with Thief's Downfall?" Barchoke inquires as he queues up a cart.

"We had to ride the dragon you've got by the Lestrange vault to get out of the bank," she returns blandly, easily maneuvering herself into one of the seats. "Caused a bit of an uproar, mind you, but we needed a quick out."

Barchoke pauses as he makes to follow her into the cart. "You rode—?" He shakes his head. "And we still let you back in?"

Evelyn snorts, giving him a wry smile while he settles into the seat beside the controls. "Believe me, I was just as surprised. Of course, I ended up giving all the remaining contents of the Lestrange vault over to Gringotts as payment for the damages we'd done." The cart starts moving and Evelyn's smile becomes rather vicious. "Handy thing, pureblood marriage contracts. Everything House Lestrange owned became the property of House Black because Lord Lestrange failed in his duties regarding both Lady Lestrange as a Black bride, and House Black as a whole. Primacy and House Black's ingrained superiority are wonderful, useful things. Of course, I almost wished the bloody bastards had still been alive for me to cast House Judgement on them by the time I finally got around to learning my duties as Lady Potter and Lady Black, but House Longbottom was satisfied with their manner of deaths. I settled the debt of honor House Lestrange made between House Black and House Longbottom another way." Here she pauses in her chattering to scowl at the rapidly approaching waterfall. "If this thing sets off any sort of alarm because of me, I'm going to be so bloody pissed."

Barchoke gets no time to respond to her comment before they're dunked under the water. They're out from under it just as quickly, and Evelyn has to resist the urge to shake her head like a dog from all the water now in her hair. She does wipe a hand over her face to get the excess water off, grimacing at the feel of wet clothes now on her. Thankfully, this time the cart doesn't slow to a stop, sound an alarm, and proceed to dump them off the tracks.

Small mercies.

"Well, that was as unpleasant as I remembered," she mutters, debating whether or not to either try and squeeze out some of the water in her clothes, or attempt a warming charm and pray it doesn't backfire on her. Instead, the seat under her warms unexpectedly and abruptly she's dry all over. She blinks once, twice, then just decides to go with it. She's seen and experienced far weirder things.

When they finally pull up at a familiar platform, Ragnok is already waiting there with three other goblins. "You'd better have a good reason for calling all of us here, Barchoke," he warns, a hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword.

Evelyn answers before Barchoke can, pointing a finger towards the dragon and the vault. "There is a Horcrux in that vault that's been there for ten years at least," she states bluntly, ignoring the way the unknown goblins almost jump at her usage of their language. "Given that Horcruxes are most definitely Soul Magic, yet it has not set off any alarms, we figured it prudent to deal with it now rather than wait for a more convenient time." She holds up her other hand to stop the eruption she already knows is coming. "Yes, I am certain of this. I am here to claim it as Heiress Presumptive of House Black, where I will then turn it over to you for disposal. Magic has agreed. Do you?"

A relative silence descends, the usual noises of the bank above them echoing through the caverns. Ragnok and Barchoke look reasonably calm; Barchoke because he's already heard it, and Ragnok probably because he knows she's had Soul Magic used on her. The other goblins look torn between horror at the idea of a Horcrux in their bank and indignation at an unknown witch speaking their native tongue.

"There will be consequences if you are wrong, Warrior Potter," Ragnok warns, causing the goblins beside him to stare at him with wide eyes.

Evelyn bares her teeth. "Oh believe me, I am well aware of that. In any event, you won't know if I'm right or wrong until we go retrieve the cup. Shall we?"

Dudley is starting to get a little worried about how long the retrieval is taking when the door to the office slams open again and Evelyn stumbles back in supported between who he thinks are her account manager and the goblin king himself. She, honest to God, looks a little green in the face. She drops heavily into the chair she'd sat in previously, one hand pressed to her lips and the other coming to rest over her stomach.

Her account manager immediately goes to his desk, pulling out a vial filled with a bright blue liquid that he hands to her. "Here, drink this." She downs it without hesitation, although she pulls a truly disgusted looking face afterwards. "My apologies for the delay, Mr. Dursley, but we ran into a bit of a…situation."

"A situation, he calls it," Evelyn grumbles, appearing only mildly better. She tips her head back and proceeds to spew out every curse under the sun, slipping into languages Dudley only barely recognizes and some he doesn't, before summing it up with, "Bloody fucking Horcruxes."

Dudley blinks at her, then hesitantly asks, "Did something happen?" He asks even though he knows something most certainly did happen, what with the state his cousin is in. Apparently, excitement found them again.

"Ha!" Evelyn barks out bitterly. "We found out that while Horcruxes are definitely Soul Magic, they're actually a truly nasty bastardized form of it. Hence why no alarms were ever set off. And joy of joys, when the bastardized version comes close to whole Soul Magic, the person with the whole Soul Magic in them is so revolted by the vileness of the bastardized version that they proceed to be violently ill so long as their magic can feel it nearby."

Dudley winces. He vividly remembers that Evelyn is not the best of patients while sick. He thinks it's a combination of her sheer stubbornness coupled with the fact that she was training to be a wizard doctor as well. And everyone knows that doctors are the worst sort of patients. "Did you at least manage to get the Horcrux thingy out of the vault?"

"We did indeed, and my Curse Breakers are working to both extract the soul piece and change our wards to prevent something like this from happening again," King Ragnok intones. Then he slips into the nonsense language all goblins and Evelyn seem to know. His cousin smiles back weakly, replying in the same tongue. The king then turns to her account manager, barking something out. Barchoke responds by bowing and murmuring something back. The king nods decisively before turning on his heel and marching out of the office.

Evelyn groans softly, scrubbing a hand over her face. "I would give up all the gold in every single one of my vaults to never have to experience that again. Stars, that was awful."

"Warrior Potter, do you still feel up to discussing what you wish to be prepared for our meeting on July 31?" Barchoke inquires.

"Yeah, I think I can manage that so long as we don't attempt to go too in depth," she says. "I'll probably eat and immediately collapse once we get back to our room, though, so fair warning Dud."

He shrugs. "So long as I don't have to carry you, I'm good with that."

"Right, first thing's first." Evelyn shifts so she's facing Barchoke head on. "I'll need paperwork to transfer control of Vault 964 over to Dudley, as well as paperwork to make him a ward of House Potter. If I have to end up transfering all of the money over to a Muggle bank, then so be it, but he gets everything in that vault. I think Mum would approve."

"Wait, what?" Dudley yelps, realizing that Evelyn is talking about giving him money, and it's probably a lot. "Eve, you—"

"Dudley, you're an Evans as much as you're a Dursley," she cuts him off. "All the money in Vault 964 is money that my mum earned. I think she'd like the fact that it's going to help her nephew piss off her sister. I'm not going to budge, so don't even bother trying."

He scowls at her. "And that making me a ward of House Potter?"

"I'd make you a member, but too many people would raise a stink about you being Heir Potter without having any Potter blood, so we're just not going to go down that path. However, making you my ward means I am legally and magically obligated to provide housing and schooling for you until adulthood. Also means I can shut up any old timers who object to my helping out a Muggle so much by pointing out that if they want me to follow the old ways so much, then they can't protest my caring for someone under my protection." She sniffs haughty. "You left your home for me, cousin mine. Don't think I won't repay that."

"I'm not going to be able to change your mind on that either, am I?"

She smirks at him, and he has to resist the urge to gulp. "You're welcome to try. You have until my birthday to convince me otherwise."

Yeah, no, he's not stupid. Guess that means he has until her birthday to get used to the idea. He's very much aware that once she's set her mind to something, he is not one of the few people capable of making her change it.

"Secondly, Barchoke, I need a letter of invitation for Remus John Lupin drafted inviting him to the bank on July 31, but for you to wait to send it until a week before. If you get a positive reply, then I'm going to need paperwork ready to make Remus Head Retainer and Steward of House Potter. I'll convince the stupid wolf to say yes somehow. I have a month to figure it out. Oh! Also figure out a way to set up a lifetime payment plan of the Wolfsbane Potion for him. That will be activated regardless of whether or not he agrees to be my steward.

"Thirdly, I need you to start looking into how we can go about getting my godfather, Sirius Black, out of Azkaban. He's not had a trial, but he's been in there for ten years regardless, and I would really rather he didn't stay there any longer." Evelyn falls silent then, lips pursed.

Barchoke nods, shuffling a few papers around. "I shall endeavour to have everything ready when you return, Warrior Potter. Should you think of anything else you require done, just contact the bank via owl."

Evelyn huffs out a breath. "Probably for the best, I'm fading faster than I thought I would."

"You were supposed to take it easy today," Dudley reminds her.

"Hence why we're going to head back before I decide to sleep the rest of the day away in this chair," she grumbles. "Barchoke, do I need to stay any longer? King Ragnok said something about having the Curse Breakers making sure the alarms to go blaring every time I try to visit, but I'm afraid I might actually fall asleep if I have to wait any longer."

"I believe, Warrior Potter, that you leaving without informing King Ragnok can be forgiven this once," Barchoke says almost kindly. "He is aware of the strain placed on you today, and while we might be a warrior race, we are not unfeeling. I will inform him myself of your departure and reasons. I merely request you send an owl before you approach the bank again so we might be prepared for your arrival."

"Thank you," she breathes, slumping slightly before perking back up. "Oh! Can I withdraw anything from my trust vault right now?"

Barchoke fixes her with a look. "Within reason."

"I just want enough money to be able to pay for another week at the Leaky Cauldron for safety's sake."

"That I can certainly authorize." He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a drawstring bag. "That should cover any expenses."

Evelyn speaks in that weird language again, inclining her head respectfully to Barchoke who responds in kind. Then she slides out of her chair, grabs the bag, and finally turns to face him. "Come on, Dud, I'm exhausted and I wasn't kidding about falling asleep in that chair. Should also see if I can manage to eat something before I sleep for the rest of the day for all that my stomach isn't too keen on the idea."

"Alright, alright. Goodbye Mr Barchoke." Without thinking, he offers his hand for the goblin to shake. To his credit, Barchoke only stares for a moment before taking it.

"Goodbye to you as well, Mr Dursley. Do look after our Warrior Potter, will you?"

"As much as I can, anyways." Then, before he can lose his nerve, he turns smartly on his heel and follows Evelyn out of the office and out of the bank.