My Father's Image
Chapter 1
By Kinsfire
The stories in this grouping have been abandoned by me, and will not be worked on again.
Chapter 1
The home at Number four Privet Drive was normal. The lawn was perfectly normally normal, the back garden was perfectly normal, the fence was perfectly normal, the house was perfectly normal. The people who lived there were perfectly normal. All of them were normal except one. In an upstairs bedroom sat a fifteen year old young man with unruly black hair, piercing green eyes, and hand-me-down clothing. He was anything but normal, as far as the owners of the house were concerned. Harry Potter was a wizard.
Harry was spending this summer much as he spent every summer - working himself until deeply tired, eating the small amount of food grudgingly given him by his guardians, and sleeping. Vernon and Petunia Dursley hated anything that wasn't perfectly normal, and Harry definitely fit within that category.
He was in mourning. It had been less than a month since he had been present at the death of his godfather Sirius Black, having been tricked into believing that Sirius had been kidnapped by Voldemort and was being tortured in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry. Harry and his friends had headed off to save him, finding instead that they had led Voldemort into the place, and Sirius had arrived to save Harry instead. He had fallen through the Veil in the Department, and it had only been Remus Lupin physically restraining Harry that kept Harry from following him. Now Harry sat in the dark and mourned, knowing that Sirius would still be alive if not for him.
#####
It was finally dark, and he was surprised to find an owl flying toward his window. It was an eagle owl - not one he was familiar with - and when it arrived and dropped his letters, it took off again. He flipped the letters over to see who the sender was, and found the Gringott's seal holding both closed.
Why would they need to contact me once, let alone twice? he asked himself, relieving the birds of their burdens. Picking up one of them, he opened the seal.
Mr. Potter,
I am writing to inform you that,by the terms of the trust set up for you by your parents, you will gain access to the ancestral vaults beginning July 1, 1996. It would likely be in your best interest to take advantage of this as soon as possible.
I may not explain why, as per the terms of the trust, but I believe that your parents felt that there are things stored there that you may wish to see before your birthday on the thirty-first of the month.
Mablung
Goblin Trustee, Potter Trust
July first? That's in two days. Maybe I should write to Dumbledore to see if we can set something up. He tore open the second.
Mr. Potter,
I write to you on behalf of the Estate of Sirius Black. Enclosed please find a letter from the late Mr. Black, as well as legal paperwork he wished to leave in your hands. If you wish not to avail yourself of what it offers, simply destroy only the legal forms, and we will register that here at Gringott's.
I recommend reading the letter from Mr. Black before taking further actions.
Damrod
Goblin Executor, Black Estate
Tears pricked in Harry's eyes. A letter from Sirius. Wonderful.
Hey, Pronglet!
I now pause for you to growl at the paper for a moment.
Harry obligingly growled at the letter for a moment, not really annoyed, but knowing that magic had a tendency to insist on things like that.
Okay, that should be enough. Now, this letter was written in June, just before your O.W.L.s started. If you're reading this (which you obviously are), then I ended up proving Dumbledore wrong the hard way. I told him that having Snape teach you so … well, the only word that really fits is intimate … so intimate a skill as Occlumency was probably opening your mind up to Ol' Snake Lips. (Do snakes even have lips?)
This means that Voldemort managed to throw something at you that convinced you to go running off to save someone's life. Maybe even mine. Well, since you're reading this, then it means that you're probably blaming yourself for my death.
DON'T.
Look at it from my point of view. You're the only connection I really have back to your folks. If Snake-face follows form, he'll try something. Do you really think I could forgive myself if I didn't try to do something about it, and you died? I'd be kicking myself to the afterlife for not coming to your aid. Instead, I'm betting I went running off, and hopefully died heroically, going down in a hail of spells that allowed you to escape with your life.
Maybe I tripped on a loose stone and broke my fool neck.
Either way, you're alive, Harry. That is the most important thing to me, and is worth my life, son.
That brings me to the other paperwork in this packet. You need to get out from underneath Dumbledore's thumb. That paperwork will allow that, and do something that I only wish I could have seen while alive. Harry, if you accept, that paperwork will make you legally my son, which would have happened if Hagrid had given you to me when I asked him.
If you accept, stick your right thumb in the box on the sheet and simply say your full name and "I accept." There will be a painful prick (good description for Snape, no?), and then the paperwork will make you officially a member of the Black family, allowing you to refer to yourself as Harry Black, or Harry Potter-Black.
No matter what, Pronglet, know that I loved you while I walked this earth, and I still do in the hereafter. (Does that make where you are the therebefore?)
Hopefully your adopted father,
Sirius
Harry chuckled slightly as he flipped to the second page, and found a sheet with very little writing and a box large enough for his thumbprint to fit in it. "Harry James Potter. I accept," he said after pressing his thumb onto the sheet. A small stabbing pain happened in his thumb, and then he felt fine.
It was as he was folding the letters up to place somewhere safe that he heard several loud cracks; the sound of cars backfiring out on Privet Drive. Or Apparation, he corrected himself. He grabbed the cricket bat he had liberated from Dudley's belongings and stood behind the door.
He could hear the trick step creak and he prepared for the inevitable onslaught. The locks on his door clicked quietly, and the door began to open. Pausing for only he moment, he suddenly threw himself at the door and rolled to the other side of the door frame, since they now would know that someone had been behind the door.
After some muffled cursing, the door flew open with a grumbled curse, and a leg started to enter the room. Harry swung as hard as he could, the edge of the bat catching the leg at knee level and giving a satisfying crack as the bat met the patella. Before the person could react, Harry shot to his feet and brought the flat of that bat to where the person's face should be. It was only as it connected that he realized that he might have just killed Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was falling to the floor with blood flowing from his nose and mouth. He looked up in time to see Tonks firing a spell in his direction, and without thinking, he swung the bat at it, catching what he now recognised to be a Stupefy and sending it caroming into the wall.
"Harry!" she hissed. "We're here to get you out of here! Stop fighting!" She cycled her hair through several colours as she spoke, and he relaxed. "Good, you were paying attention. Now get your stuff and we're getting out of here."
"I need to pack first," he said. "What happened? Why wasn't I notified first?"
"The wards just went away a minute ago. We were sent to collect you."
"Just let me finish packing my things up, then. Same place as last year?"
"Yes. How much do you have to pack?"
"Not much. I tend to leave it in my trunk so that my nosy aunt won’t find things all over the place for Vernon to bitch about." While he finished shoving things in his trunk, she knelt by Kingsley and laughed a moment later. "He’ll be fine, if talking a bit funny for a while. Broke his nose again and took out a couple teeth. Good reflexes, Harry."
"I just hope he forgives me."
"He will. He understands the situation. Besides, we get to tease him mercilessly now."
"Still, I feel bad about it."
She stopped him, spun him around and grabbed his shoulders. "Harry, if he'd been a Death Eater, you'd be fighting another one now. Given the way you deflected that Stupefy, I'd say that you'd do pretty good against them. He'll make a complete recovery and have learned not to underestimate you again."
"If you say so," Harry murmured. He finished his packing, including clearing out the space under the loose board and turned back to Tonks. "Well, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Shall we?" She nodded and pulled out a sheet of crumpled parchment. They walked to Kingsley and placed his hand on the portkey as Tonks activated it.
One nauseating navel-pulling sensation later, Harry found himself in the entryway of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Most of the Order were there awaiting their arrival, and Molly immediately flew into a tizzy as she saw Kingsley on the floor. "Oh my! We were right, there was a Death Eater attack, wasn’t there?"
Tonks’ braying laugh split the air. "We Order members were the only ones there at the time we left. Shack’s injuries are courtesy a quick thinking Harry Potter."
Poppy Pomfrey looked up. "Broken nose, broken teeth, and he’s going to be unhappy with that knee for a while. What did you do to him?" came the sharp question.
"Cricket bat," Harry said, hanging his head. "I hit him on the knee with the edge of the bat, and used the flat to strike his face."
"And parry a Stupefy, I might add," Tonks said with some pride in her voice.
Poppy set to carrying Kingsley upstairs."Just cast a bone-breaking curse next time," she muttered, obviously unaware that Harry could hear her. "You’ll do less damage to him." She disappeared from sight.
"Wonderful," Harry said. "Now I’ve got the nurse who works on me at school thinking I’m a violent psychotic." He turned to face Albus Dumbledore. "Sir, what happened?"
"That is what we would like to ascertain," the Headmaster said. "We had just finished today’s Order meeting when I registered that the protective wards around your aunt’s house had faltered."
"How much time before you sent people had the wards gone down?" Harry asked.
"No more than two minutes."
"I received some mail from Gringott’s tonight. First was something I need to talk to you about in a little while, but the other was from Sirius. One of the things in that letter was a form for adoption. He would have adopted me as his own, so I decided to go with his last wish. I would have liked a father, and he wanted to be mine. I put my right thumb in the box on the sheet, said my full name and said that I accepted. There was a pinprick, and then nothing. A couple minutes later, they started to appear," he said, pointing his thumb at Tonks. "That’s when I tried to kill one of my protectors." He scowled deeply. "I have a habit of doing that, don’t I?"
Tonks described the situation that had happened from her point of view. "Harry was doing everything right," she said. "If it had been me in the lead, then I’d be upstairs getting healed and planning to kiss Harry when my nose and mouth were back in working order."
"For trying to kill you?" he asked incredulously.
"For learning your lessons properly. You were protecting yourself, Harry, and I'll bet you ten Galleons that Kingsley will tell you the same thing when he wakes up."
"Maybe after he hexes me unconscious," Harry said dubiously.
"It's a bet, then?" she asked, sticking her hand out.
He clasped it and said, "Sure. Why not?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It appears that this was a far better destination than we first had thought, given what you have just told us. You have the protections of the Black household covering you now. What was it about the first letter that you wished to talk with me about?"
"My parents gave me access to the Potter family vaults one month before my sixteenth birthday. It was suggested by the Goblin Trustee of the Potter Trust that I should probably take advantage of it as soon as possible."
Dumbledore winced. "That is perhaps a bad idea. Ever since the Department of Mysteries situation, both the Death Eaters and our own side are on high alert, as it were. Anyone with leanings toward Voldemort's side would jump at the chance to do damage to you. We simply can not afford the drain on our forces to guard you during your trip."
"My parents felt that there were things in that vault that I might wish to know about before my birthday, sir. I'd imagine that I would be the only one allowed access. How do I get at those things?"
Dumbledore developed a full frown. "If my suspicions are correct, Harry, then there are things that you would do well not to have access to until after you have defeated Voldemort. I cannot help but think that they would do damage, or at least disturb you."
Harry scowled deeply. "So keeping me ignorant is far better? Shouldn't it be my decision as to whether or not I should be disturbed? I stand a chance to know my family far better than ever before."
"I am sorry, Harry. We simply cannot afford to split our forces to guard you on your trip to Diagon Alley. I must forbid it at this time."
"Very well, sir," Harry capitulated. As he turned to take his trunk upstairs, he said, "I knew I should have gotten a time limit on that full disclosure promise from him. He'll probably hold it over me until Voldemort is dead, and then possibly allow me access." It was said in a voice that he knew would carry to the headmaster, although it sounded as if he was speaking to himself.
Up in the room he knew he would be sharing with Ron when the Weasleys arrived to take over the house, he sat heavily on the bed. Okay, he's doing it intentionally. I expect that I will be informed that I will be resuming Occlumency lessons with Snape before this summer is out. He lay back, looking at the ceiling. Need to plan how to get out from under the old bastard's thumb. Start easy on the first. See if I can simply walk out the front door.
#####
The last day of June found Harry working around the old place, cleaning up as best he could, since he suspected that he would likely own the building come the thirty-first of July. He began upstairs, where Buckbeak had resided. Harry needed to ask what had happened to the noble beast, but he had a feeling that the sentence had been overturned and Buckbeak was back with Hagrid. Cleaning the room by hand was quite the chore, and he had managed to cause quite a few rubbish cans to stop eating by the time he had finished for the day. He headed downstairs to clean up and perhaps get some food.
He was in the shower, enjoying the hot water striking his skin, when he heard the door open and someone whistling. "Excuse me," he said a little shakily. "I'm not quite finished here." He squealed like a little girl for just a moment when Tonks' head poked behind the shower curtain.
"Nice view!" she said, not pulling her head back. "Want some company?" The thought of the young Auror in the shower with him, her wet clothes clinging to her body, caused him to react as any fifteen year old boy might. She whistled again as he tried to hide it. "I should take that as a yes, I suppose," she said with a grin.
"Tonks," he said weakly. "Please …"
"Please join you? Don't mind if I do!" She began to slide the curtain back, but he lunged and tried to push it closed. He only succeeded in tearing the curtain down and falling out of the tub on top of the girl. "Wow, you move fast!" she laughed again.
Harry's response was to jump to his feet and burst down the hall into his room, with Tonks calling after him. He slammed it shut and began to move furniture in front of the door. After he'd gotten enough in front of the door, he dressed as quickly as possible. As he walked to the wall furthest from the door, as if trying to find a place to hide, he tripped, and his hand caught one of the candelabras on the wall as he tried to steady himself. The armoire shifted outward slightly, about a foot. Curious, he reset the candelabra, and the armoire moved back. Hmm, have to explore this once the Tonks situation is done. Oh my God, what is going on there? he asked himself, a slight panic rising in him.
He finally heard her banging on the door. "Harry? I'm sorry. I was an idiot. I was playing a joke, and let it go too far. Please forgive me." He finally relented and began moving things away from the door.
"Give me a minute," he said. He heard a quiet crack behind him.
"Let me help, Harry," she said. A wave of her wand and things were back where they belonged. She then walked to the door, opened it and stepped outside, pulling it shut behind her. A knock then followed.
Laughing despite himself, Harry said, "Come on in, Tonks."
She entered the room with a smile, but quickly became serious. "I would like to apologise for doing that to you, Harry. At the very simplest, that was horribly rude of me, and terribly embarrassing for you."
"I'll admit to embarrassment, yes," he replied. "It was just … well, never mind," he added with a blush.
"No, go ahead and say it. I deserve to be insulted or embarrassed in return."
His blush deepened. "It's just that … well, when you asked if I wanted company, I … oh, bugger …"
"You gave the impression that you liked the idea," she prompted with a smile.
"I was imagining you in there with me, wet clothing plastered to you. That's when … well, you know."
"Thank you!" she said brightly. "Nice to know you think I'm sexy!"
"Not like I'd ever stand a chance with you," he muttered under his breath.
"Why not?" she asked. "We're not that far apart in age. I was in my seventh year when you were an ickle firstie. Bit over six years diff. Question is, are you interested in me or in getting me naked?"
He dropped his head. "Both. I'm sorry about that last."
She lifted his chin. "Why? You're honest with me. Someone trying to get into my knickers would swear that he was interested only in me, and that getting me naked never crossed his mind."
"You have visual evidence to the otherwise," he laughed weakly.
"Impressive evidence, too," she said with a grin, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Let's take it slow, as friends, and see where it goes from there, okay?"
"Works for me," he answered, breathing a sigh of relief.
Her eyebrows wiggled at him for a moment. "Remember, lover-boy, I can be anyone you want me to be."
He looked at her quite seriously. "What if I want you to be Tonks?"
Her eyes widened for a moment before she broke out in a large grin. Before she could say anything, however, she scowled. "Dammit, they're calling me into the office for some reason, and I'm the only one to keep an eye on you today, Harry. No one else is scheduled to be here until 8 o'clock. Can I get you to promise me that you won't leave the house?"
"For you, Tonks, I'll agree. No leaving the house. I may explore the place, but I won't go anywhere this house's corridors don't lead."
"Weird phrasing," she said, quirking an eyebrow.
"Old house. Might find a secret passage between rooms, unless you tell me there are none." She shrugged. "I want to be able to explore them. Carefully," he added quickly as she opened her mouth to speak.
She blushed. "Okay. I'll see you on the third or fourth I expect. Not on the schedule again for a few days, and I do have a life, you know," she finished, flipping her hair at the end of her statement.
He chuckled. "Enjoy your dates."
"I wish," she replied simply.
"Well, their loss," he replied with a shrug. She looked at his face and realised that he truly felt that way. She kissed his cheek again and grinned before flouncing out of the room, making sure that the short skirt she wore flipped dangerously, as if promising a view of her knickers. A moment later he heard a crack and realised that he was alone in the house.
He went back to the candelabra and moved it, causing the armoire to shift again, and he realised that his first impression was wrong. It was closer to two feet that the armoire slid, and he stepped into the space behind it. A torch immediately burst to life, and as he pulled it from the sconce, the armoire slid back to its original position. He was curious, so he replaced the torch, and the armoire moved outward. Grinning, he pulled the torch again and began to walk down the exposed corridor. A very short distance away, there was a short stairway leading up on his right side, and a scrawled note carved into the wall - 'bedroom'. He took the stairs and found himself in the master bedroom, coming out from behind a tapestry. Nodding, he turned around and headed back down to the corridor he had found.
He hadn't walked very far when he felt an odd disconnect and saw the corridor come to an end. He put the torch into the empty sconce and the wall moved slightly. He found himself in the London Underground, at the stop closest to Diagon Alley.
"Oh, this will be perfect!" he murmured to himself. "I know how to escape tomorrow. And I'll deal with the resulting guilt trip from Dumbledore later on." He turned around and saw an old style wall torch out of place. Suspecting he had found the trigger on this end, he righted the torch, and the wall closed. Nodding after proving himself right, he set it askew once more and headed back to 12 Grimmauld Place the way he had come.
#####
The next morning came quietly, and Harry rose early, as he always did. He dressed and headed downstairs to find Bill Weasley sitting at the kitchen table sharing a cup of coffee with Alastor Moody. "Morning, Potter," the gruff old ex-Auror said.
"Mornin' sir," Harry mumbled, still feeling a bit tired. "Any more of that coffee available?"
"Didn't know you drank it, Harry," Bill chuckled.
"Need to wake up, and it's safer than fighting a Hungarian Horntail, and I'm in a position to know, as far as the dragon is concerned."
"Never had a cup of Weasley's coffee then, have you?" Moody laughed as he stood. "Well, my replacement is here, and I need to get some sleep sometime this month, so I'm off. See you later, Weasley, Potter." With that the grizzled Auror left the room, and a crack sounded a few seconds later.
Bill looked at Harry for a moment before saying, "So, what's the story we're going to use today when you head out to Gringott's?" He had waited for Harry to have a mouthful of coffee before he asked the question, and Harry responded with a fine spray of the rich black fluid. "Gotcha!" the eldest Weasley laughed.
"I take it denying would be useless?" Harry asked, coughing.
"Except as practice," Bill responded. "Seriously, I know something about what's happening today, since I work for Gringott's, and I really think you should be there. There are things you need to know, and some things you should have been told long ago."
"Typical," Harry grumbled.
"I'd tell you, but I'd stand an excellent chance of no longer having a job if I did. I rather enjoy my job, so …"
"Say no more," Harry said. "Why are you helping me, not that I'm complaining about the help?"
"Because we're developing three factions - well, four - in this war. Voldemort's side, Dumbledore and the Order's side, and your side. The fourth is those who support the Ministry's take on this, like that great prat of a brother of mine."
"He Who REALLY Should Not Be Named?" Harry asked with a laugh.
"Precisely. Well, in answer to your question, all the Weasley children are in your camp. I think Dad would be too, push come to shove, but with Mum in Dumbledore's camp, it's easier to keep things quiet and support her. I don't think I have to tell you where Percy's loyalties lie."
"He is rather obvious about it, isn't he?" Harry said with a scowl.
"Exactly. We do have a few people in the Order who support you, such as Moody. He knows full well that I'm going to try to cover for you today while you visit the goblins. We don't know what you'll find there, but I'm pretty sure you need to know it. I do know why the wards dropped, but if you walk into Gringott's knowing that, I'm out of a job. I'm just surprised that Dumbledore hasn't figured it out yet."
Bill scowled. "A warning for you, Harry. When you find out what you're going to today, word will eventually get to Dumbledore. He won't be happy, and you'd best be prepared for a guilt trip of epic proportions."
"Because I didn't wait for him to decide it was time to tell me, right?"
"In the long run, yes. That won't be his excuse, however. What kind of disguise were you going to use?"
"Completely Muggle. Figured I'd buy a hat on the way there - baseball cap or some such to over my forehead. They'll look at me sideways in the Alley, but I'm used to that by now. But since everyone looks for the scar, if they can't see it, then they'll not pay much attention, will they?"
"I assume you have a plan for getting there?"
"Yes, but I won't tell you, because Dumbledore can't rip out of your mind what you don't know."
"I'd like to tell you he wouldn't do that, but …" Bill shrugged. "Well, the faster you get moving, the faster you'll be back here, and the less likely that you'll be caught."
"Good idea. I'll grab a muffin or something and take off."
"Anywhere I should stay away from?"
"Hmm, stay away from the master bedroom, I'd say. No real reason, mind you, what with that window and all -" Harry grinned at him.
"Gotcha. How about I finish up what you were working on yesterday, up where our hippogriff friend roomed? He's back at Hogwarts, by the way." At Harry's nod, they both stood and left the table, Harry grabbing the muffin that he said he would.
A short time later he entered the master bedroom and stepped behind the tapestry. He placed his hand against the wall in the pitch blackness and began to carefully descend until he reached the bottom of those stairs. Wonder why there's no way of lighting the place from there? He made the left and walked until he reached the armoire, and then felt for the torch. The moment he pulled it from the sconce, it burst to life.
He was soon leaving the station, and had discovered that he'd have to pay if he chose to take a train from the station; the exit from the corridor was on the street side of the station - he'd have a turnstile to pass through to catch a train.
He stopped for a moment as he reached the street, checking his money and finding he should have enough for a simple hat. He had more than enough Galleons, but he doubted that many Muggle shopkeepers would accept them. He purchased a simple floppy hat that one might wear to the beach and then headed for Diagon Alley.
He was remarkably unrecognised as he walked the street, although he was rather interested by the looks of disgust he got from some people - it was obvious where their sentiments were on the pureblood issue. He was quickly at the bank and looked for help from a goblin. "Excuse me, sir, but I need to speak with Mablung and Damrod? I received letters from them?"
The goblin looked at him for a long moment before saying, "Ah yes. Mister Potter. Come with me, please." He was led to a large board room and told to take a seat, and the goblin left immediately after he had seated himself. A few moments later, two other goblins entered the room, each carrying stacks of papers.
"Mister Potter, I am Damrod, and my companion is Mablung. We appreciate the speed with which you responded to your letters. Now, let us get down to business. Since my business with you is short for the time being, I will go first?" he said, looking to Mablung, who gave a curt nod. He set the stack of papers before Harry and said, "These are forms that must be signed to properly take control of the Black family, being that you are the sole heir to the prior Lord Black."
"Lord Black? Who was that?"
"Ah, he did not choose to exercise it. It was Sirius Black. He was, in fact, a Baron by rights in the Muggle realm, but it has easily been three to four hundred years since a wizard Baron has taken up his rightful seat within the Muggle world. Be that as it may be, you will not be receiving the entirety of his bequests until your sixteenth birthday, when he believed that you would be emancipated. What he was unaware of is the fact that the moment you accepted his adoption, you by law became an adult in order to perform the necessary duties of a Head of a noble Household. This happens to any child age fourteen or older wen they are the sole remaining heir to a family."
Harry blinked at Damrod for a moment before looking to the papers before him. He scanned them quickly, finding most of them to be housekeeping details for the transfer of power. He quickly signed them and slid them to Damrod, who nodded and said, "I look forward to completing my business with you on the thirty-first, Lord Black," before leaving the room.
"Such should have happened prior to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but your wizarding guardian saw fit to not inform you of your status with regards to the Potter Trust," the remaining goblin said. "Otherwise, you would have legally become an adult at age fourteen, in order to properly run the Potter family line, being the oldest of the direct line."
"Let me guess - my wizarding guardian is Albus Dumbledore?" At the goblin's nod, he added simply, "Figures."
"Given that you are now an adult, the entirety of the Trust goes to you. The letter that I wrote to you did not take into account the actions in regards to your status with the Black accounts. If you would sign these, I will turn the entirety of the Potter Trust over to you, and will take you to your family's vault. I will remain with you, since I am aware of one thing that I am Oath-bound not to tell a human soul, but that regards you."
"More secrets," Harry grumbled. "Another Dumbledore-ism?"
"Actually, no. This is a stricture placed upon me by the nature of the information. You are not the only wizard or witch that this affects, but the information is quite similar. You will understand once we have the chance to go to your family vault."
"Very well." Harry quickly read and signed the stack before him and then stood. "Shall we?"
In short order they were far deeper into the caverns below London than Harry had ever been before. They stopped before a vault numbered 37. "Yours is one of the oldest wizarding families in the world, Mister Potter. An unbroken line can be traced back to before the time of Merlin. In fact, I believe that you will find a tapestry in the vault that details the trail." The goblin climbed from the cart and walked to the door. "Place your hand within the circle, please."
Harry looked and saw a fairly obvious silver circle on the door and placed his hand within it. A light flared for a very long moment before a clicking noise could be heard, and the door developed a seam. He heard the goblin murmur, "Odd," but thought nothing of it as the doors started to swing open. For something so large, the doors moved surprisingly quietly and easily. As they opened, Harry gasped.
Inside was more than Harry ever expected to see. Other than piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts that dwarfed his imagination, there were a huge number of other things stored within. One area seemed to have enough furniture to comfortably equip all four Houses at Hogwarts from top to bottom, while another seemed to have armor and weapons. Books, crates of papers, and other things filled the room. As he looked about the room, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to face a woman the spitting image of his dead mother. She looked odd however, as if carved out of stone. As he faced her, she gasped. "James?"
"No, I'm Harry. Who are you? How did you get down here?"
"I'm a statue. I've been here for years now. I'm a copy, if you will, of Lily Potter, your mother." 'Lily' stopped. "I have no idea how I should react around you. I was made before you were even conceived, so it's difficult to think of you as my son, even though I know you are. Especially since you look just like James." She held up an envelope to him. "The real Lily wrote this letter for you while she was pregnant with you. I've read it, as I've read a number of other things in this vault. Please pay attention to what she said, Harry."
Harry,
If you're reading this, then what we all feared happened - we didn't survive until you were an adult. I'm hoping we had at least a few years together to know you. If it has just recently happened and you're at least fourteen years old, then be prepared to be the head of the Potter line, of which you are now the last one. If you're under fourteen, you'll be living with Sirius until you turn fourteen, and he'll be teaching you how to be a Lord of a family, especially since he's already made you his heir as well. (He hates his family for reasons you'll someday learn, if you don't know already.)
There are a lot of things I want to say to you, and luckily I can, in a way. The statue that handed you this letter is me at age seventeen, just after I graduated and before I became Mrs. James Potter. In a process that the sculptor may well take to his grave, he figured out how to copy more than the echo that a portrait has, so that statue is, for all intents and purposes, me - for good or ill.
In this vault you will find weapons that have been in the family for years, books to help you learn, and journals that your father and I wrote. My journals run from the point of my entering Hogwarts until just after your conception. There were interesting problems involved in your birth, and I ask that you please keep an open mind when you read the journals. I do not as of this letter know what caused things to be that way - if I did, I would say now. (I'm sorry for being cryptic, but it's necessary.)
I have never read your father's journals, so he may have interesting things to say to you as well. We love you Harry - never doubt that - and it is imperative that you remember that always.
When you finish this letter, ask her to show you the jewelry box. There are two rings there that you simply must have. One of them is the Potter ring. The other is your passage to another vault in Gringott's. The goblins know which one. As for how that ring came to be in my possession? Let's just say that the rules for what constitutes a Muggleborn are a bit easy to activate. My great-great-grandmother was a witch and her husband a wizard, but the three generations that followed were Squibs. (Wouldn't that drive my sister batty?) As far as the purebloods are concerned, the second straight generation of Squibs are Muggles.
Be that as it may be, if you so desire, the statue can be with you, since it is able to walk under its own power. As you also have undoubtedly learned, it can also speak. In all ways that count, she's me at seventeen. See her as a big sister, if you will. Or not - it depends on how she reacts to you.
There is so much I want to tell you, my beloved son, but I simply can't for so many reasons - either I don't know the information, or I simply cannot find the words, and for that I weep. I know that you've lost us and mourn for us, but don't forget to live your own life. We will meet again in the next great adventure, as Albus calls it. (Of course there's existence after death - Sir Nicholas proves that!)
With more love than I could ever put into a simple letter, even with all the charms in the world,
Lily Potter
He blinked at the letter, realising that there were tears in his eyes. He gently folded it and placed it in a pocket before looking up at the statue. "What should I call you? Lily? Or did you have a middle name that would work better? Or should I call you Mum?"
"I think I'd prefer Lily. Physically and mentally I'm about your age." She paused. "May I come with you? I haven't been awake all the time I've been in here, but now that I am awake, I'd prefer to wait a while before going back to sleep."
"I can agree to that. It would be nice to get to know at least one of you, since you are my mother in a way." He stopped for a moment. "Can I use any more weasel words in that sentence?" he finished with a chuckle.
"Only if you intend to go into politics," she replied with a laugh of her own. "Now let's get you what you're going to take out of here and get out of this vault. I'm bored."
"What would you recommend I take out with me?"
"Other than me?" she asked. "The journals, the family rings, and a few of the more interesting items in here." She grabbed a chest and hoisted it easily. He watched the faux muscles ripple as she did so, marvelling at the work that the sculptor had put into this statue. He also finally realised that the statue was completely and utterly unclothed. He peeled off the sweatshirt he'd put on and threw it at her.
"Put this on," he said in a strangled voice. She looked at him, shrugged (which distracted him further) and put the clothing on. This only worsened his blood flow problems, since it fell to slightly above the curve of her shapely derriere. "Oh dear lord," he breathed. "This is my mother I'm reacting to. Oh God …"
She nodded. "Ah. Just a moment." She walked to a cabinet and pulled out a robe, stripped back out of the sweatshirt and put on the robe. "Thank you for the compliment, by the way." She turned back to the chest she had lifted and opened it. "Hmm, gems. No good. Need another one." She opened a few more before she smiled. "Ah, books! I can empty this and we can place everything in here." She emptied the books from the chest and began to put the journals within, followed by a small chest. "Men's jewelry," she said to his questioning look. She walked to the wall and pulled down a chain mail shirt and a dark silvery robe, paused, and pulled down another silvery robe. She quickly replaced the one she was wearing with the second robe she'd grabbed. "Armor," she said simply. She grabbed a few more things, including two swords, and slipped them into the chest. "That should do for now. Oh, forgot. Boots. Come here Harry."
He came over to where she was and goggled at what had to be fifty pairs of boots. "Dragon-hide," she said. "Comfortable and auto-fitting. Grab a pair you like and put them on. While you're at it, open the chest back up and put on that armor I grabbed for you. That stuff will stop even a medium calibre bullet from point-blank range. The chain mail alone will stop a low calibre bullet, same range."
As he took off his shirt again, he found himself being looked at by Lily, and a little disconcerted by her look of hunger. The chain mail shirt was surprisingly light, and glowed oddly in the light within the vault. He slipped the robe on over everything and grinned. "Pity I'll have to take this off when we leave the Alley."
"Got your wand with you?" He nodded. "Tap my robe and think of appropriate Muggle clothing." He did so, and found himself looking at a very beautiful woman in a pleasantly form-fitting summer-weight sun dress. "They still protect from head to toe, but look proper for the area."
"Shall we?" he choked out.
"Not before you claim the two rings, Harry. First is the Potter ring, which you should wear at all times." He picked up the ring she pointed at and slid it onto his index finger on his right hand. It was a bit loose, and he realised he'd probably have to resize it. Suddenly there was a flare, and it fit perfectly. "Now the other ring. You need to decide if you wish to wear it publicly, Harry, because there are a lot of things that it says, and things that might be expected of you." He picked it up and stared at the insignia. It was very familiar - his girlfriend from last year wore it on her robes.
"I'm a descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes. It only passes to the males in that family, so you're the first in five hundred years to be able to open Vault number 2. My great-great-grandfather, whom it passes through, simply didn't know until it was too late to claim it - he was too close to death at that point, I understand. I would have liked to have seen what's in there, but I'm missing certain equipment."
He snorted. "For which Dad was eternally grateful, I'm sure."
"He certainly seemed to appreciate the assets I did have," she replied cheekily, thrusting out her chest.
Harry swallowed noisily. "Shall we check out Vault 2?" he asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject.
"Let's," she replied with a laugh. She grabbed the now-full chest, walked to the door of the vault and said, "You might want to put the ring on, even if you don't publicly claim the title. That ring will be the entry into the vault." He nodded and slid it onto his right ring finger, where it immediately resized itself.
At the edge of the cart, Harry held out his hand to help Lily into the cart, when she took his hand, he was surprised to feel not marble, but warm flesh. Noticing Harry's stunned expression, she said, "My sculptor was a genius. Let's leave it at that." He nodded numbly, lowered her into the cart, noting that her weight seemed that of a normal human and not that of a being of solid marble, and then climbed in himself. He didn't even notice the short ride to the first four vaults.
A letter from Gringott's, a move to 12 Grimmauld, and a visit to Gringott's.