Caskettfan5: Never would have expected you to be one of the earliest commenters on my story. (Love your stories, btw). I thought my username was a stroke of genius when I first used it a few years back. What gives a funnier visual than a small adorable being acting like the Incredible Hulk?

I understand why time travel fics aren't universally liked. It takes good writing to make them excellent and worth reading, otherwise they can get silly at times.

Here's chapter 3, my wonderful readers. The trial happens next chapter, looking forward to it.

Also, I'll be using the names for Daphne's parents that I've seen more than once in fics. Cyrus and Roxanne.

Anyway, here's the the chapter.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling refreshed.

Grabbing ahold of his glasses, he put them on and sat up. Casting a wandless tooth cleaning charm, he stretched and climbed out of the bed.

So much green. he thought, looking around the room.

Harry knew he needed a couple of things to do today. He could explain to Sirius that he just wanted to explore the home and distract himself from his trial and anger at his friends.

His friendship with Ron was irrecoverable. Ron betrayed his trust, no matter how well intentioned. He forgave him in fourth year because he did tell him to talk to Hagrid about the dragons. He forgave him for abandoning him and Hermione because of the horcrux influence and because he was able to fight through and kill it.

But Ron couldn't un-kill Daphne.

He'd be civil at most, but he'd never trust Ron again. Hermione was a different story. They may have drifted apart slightly over the last year and a half, mainly when he starting getting serious with Daphne and their relationship, but she was still his friend. He just needed to give the appearance of equal levels of anger for now.

He called out for Kreacher, the elf appearing with a crack sound.

"What is half-blood master wanting?" Kreacher asked, his tone surprisingly neutral.

"Are Ron and Hermione downstairs?" he asked.

"Nasty blood traitor and mudblood are still sleeping." was the elf's response.

"You will not refer to Hermione as that in my presence," Harry ordered sharply, "Understand?"

Kreacher glared at him, but muttered a "Yes, master."

"You're dismissed." Harry waved him off.

Kreacher disappeared with a crack.

Harry shook his head and left the room to head downstairs for some breakfast. He got down the stairs and to the kitchen, where he spotted Sirius with Fred, George, and Ginny at the table, along with a couple other Order members.

He greeted them and sat down at the table, Molly spotting him and started fixing him a plate.

"You alright, Padfoot?" He asked, noticing Sirius had his eyes squinted slightly and hand his head held up by his hands.

"I didn't realize the hangover potion was expired." He groaned, massaging his temples.

Harry snickered at that, finding it fairly amusing.

"Don't worry," Harry leaned forward slightly, patting Sirius' shoulder, "I'm sure someone will take pity on you. Ask Snape for one."

"I'll drink out of a gutter before I drink whatever he makes," Sirius said irritably, "Probably safer to."

"I don't know mate," Fred jumped in, "You seen some of the streets outside of Diagon Alley?"

Diagon Alley had fairly clean streets. Most wizards would use cleaning charms on their shoes or cast it on the street itself to make sure they didn't track anything inside.

The same couldn't be said about some of the muggle streets in London.

"I think it's more he'd prefer drinking piss and whatever else from a gutter than drink something Snape touched." Harry pointed out.

Sirius just nodded at that, groaning softly.

"What, Sirius?" Harry asked with his voice raised, "You can't hear me well enough?" He grinned.

"Agh," Sirius clutched his head tighter, "You're just as bad as James."

"Now Harry," Molly said, bringing over a plate of food to him, "Don't torment him. He knows not to drink that much now."

He'll just make sure he's properly stocked on hangover potions. He snorted, beginning to eat his food now.

He ate in silence, enjoying the food, until he spotted two people enter the room, two people he didn't wish to speak with.

Hermione and Ron.

Both looked like they didn't get much sleep. Ron looked haggard looking and his eyes looked slightly glazed from lack of sleep, while Hermione's hair looked like a mess and her eyes were slightly bloodshot.

Harry just ignored them, still eating his food.

"Harry." Hermione tried to say, but a raised hand by Harry made her stop whatever she was wanting to say.

"If you value our friendship," he said flatly, "You'll give me space to sort things out." Before he went back to eating.

Hermione's lip quivered, but she managed to keep her composure and sat down quietly. Ron looked like he was going to say something harsh after seeing how Hermione reacted to Harry's dismissal, but a glare from Harry made him reconsider.

The table was awkward for a few minutes until Harry finished his food and asked to speak with Sirius.

"I'll meet you in a few minutes." Sirius nodded, "Just let me finish reading the paper." he gestured towards some of the news articles he'd been reading as he ate.

Harry nodded and left to go back to Regulus' room.

After about 10 minutes, Sirius showed up outside the door and knocked as a courtesy, before walking in.

"You want to talk?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "Are there any defense books I can read here?"

Sirius blinked a couple times, surprised by the question.

"Yes," He answered slowly, "Why would you want to read them? They're not exactly 'friendly' tactics and spells."

"Voldemort toyed with me," Harry said tightly, "I didn't stand a chance against him. He probably could have killed me without using a wand even."

"That's not fair to yourself, Harry," Sirius pointed out, "He has decades of experience over you and is one of the most dangerous and intelligent men alive."

"I know his school records," Harry glared at Sirius, "He was brilliant at my age. I could do better, but I decided to slack and not dedicate myself. I can do better. I must do better, if I want to keep my friends safe." He finished firmly.

Sirius started to understand Harry's drive, but didn't want his godson to start using dark magic willy nilly if he found some of his families more lethal spells and curses.

"That's why you want to learn more?" He asked, "To protect your friends?"

"I want to be strong enough to have a family, Padfoot." He answered, his voice almost raw with emotion, "I don't want to be remembered as the last Potter. I don't want to be remembered as a cautionary tale of what happens when you defy Voldemort."

Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"I'll grab some books for you. You will not read anything that you haven't asked me about," He said firmly, "Understand?"

Harry nodded quickly, trying to look convincing.

He needed a reason for why he knew certain curses and spells, some of the most effective in his arsenal came from the collective spells crafted by the Blacks over the course of centuries.

"You want to start now?" Sirius asked.

"Yes." Harry answered firmly.

"Alright, then follow me." Sirius turned to leave the room, taking a right.

Harry followed him and acted like he didn't know where they were going. Sirius got to one of the hallways, pulled his wand to cast an incantation in Latin, before a shimmer on the wall appeared that coalesced into an elaborate looking door.

At Harry's look of 'surprise', Sirius grinned.

"My family might have been mad, but they knew their charm work. This is the library, only those that have Black blood can enter without someone carrying them along the ward line. Do not, under any circumstances, let Hermione in here without me as well." He said, no nonsense in his tone, "I don't know if it was just my mother's ramblings, but she said that certain curses were put in here to attack muggleborns."

Despite what some would say, there was a slight difference in the magic of Muggleborns and those with magical parents. The magic of Purebloods and half-bloods was different, but not by a collosal amount, with a few outliers when not taking blood relation into account.

But muggleborns had a slightly 'shinier, feel to their magic, almost like a fresh fire that wasn't burning steady. There had been a popular theory amongst some of the magical supremacists like Grindelwald that a mix of muggleborns into old and stable Pureblood families could create more powerful offspring. It had been a theory that Harry hadn't dismissed out of hand, mainly because he himself and Dumbledore would fit the criteria. The three most magically powerful wizards Britain produced in the last 100 years were all half-bloods from old Pureblood lines.

The theory was given more credence by there being no link to the offspring of two muggleborns being stronger than the offspring of two Purebloods that weren't related, meaning 'fresh' blood didn't necessarily mean 'better' unless it included 'old stock' in the mix.

Harry was fairly certain that none of the Blacks had managed to create a fool proof measure to tell who was a muggleborn, and who simply had magic different from 'normal'.

Walburga was talking out of her arse, probably thinking that Sirius would slight the family and bring a "Dirty mudblood" home to be the next Lady Black and hoped to scare him.

Harry nodded at what Sirius said, looking disgusted at the subject.

"Well then, let's have a look, shall we." Sirius said, gesturing for Harry to enter, "You're my heir, so you'll get in no problem."

Harry walked through the doorway and came across a familiar sight. Several bookcases with tomes ranging from a few decades to centuries old were lined up. Several space expansion charms that were anchored by runes were active, making the room much larger.

At Sirius' nod, Harry stepped further in and started looking at the different shelves like he was seeing them for the first time. He slowly made his way towards some of the more 'tame' sections, where tomes containing offensive curses and certain shield spells would be located.

He kept looking around some more, before 'discovering' a table with a plain book with the Black family crest on the front of it.

"What's this?" Harry asked, acting like he didn't know what it was.

"That tome is linked to every book in the library," Sirius explained, "Any book you want to read will appear on the pages. Only the Lord and heir can use it, and only the Lord can take it out of the room. I think the last time it was taken out was when my grandfather was a child, so it's been some time."

"Can I come in here whenever I want?" Harry asked.

Sirius took a deep breath.

"You can," Sirius exhaled, "But you will only read what I allow. You need to understand, Harry, the spell theory taught at school doesn't cover why certain magic is called Dark. It's not because it can kill, the cutting hex Diffindo can be made to kill someone if you make it strong enough."

A prankster and laid back man Sirius Black may be, but he was no fool. James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin had some of the best academic scores for their year of boys, with only Severus Snape consistently having a slight edge in certain classes. That was why, even when they caused untold mayhem with pranks on both students and staff, they were still well liked by the professors because they were smart enough to pull off elaborate pranks and got away with it on several occasions.

"Certain spells require intent, like the Unforgivables," He continued, Harry paying rapt attention, "The spells and curses in these books were made by my family since before the time of the Norman invasion. These spells are used for war," He stressed the word, "Some of the spells I learned here at your age saved my life and your father's. But there's a great risk."

Harry knew the risks, but let Sirius 'fill him in' on what the danger was.

"Cutting curse", or hex, is used quite a bit to describe different spells that cut things, but certain ones cut different things better. The cutting curses used by the Blacks and Aurors or Hit Wizards in combat have intent added to them to slash or slice through shields, and to cleave through flesh." He added the last part with a softer tone.

"You need to want to cut flesh, want to sever limbs to make the spells work effectively. It can become addicting to feel your magic move with your emotions." Sirius shivered slightly.

Harry adopted a faux look of deep thought, like he was thinking of something profound.

"It's like a patronus charm," He asked, "But with negative emotions?"

Sirius smiled at Harry understanding.

"Yes, exactly."

"But how do you protect against the risk?" Harry asked, guiding the conversation to where he wanted it to go.

"Occlumency." Sirius said simply.

At Harry's look of confusion, Sirius tried to explain.

"Oh wait, you don't know what that is," he said, looking slightly embarrassed, "Let's sit down, we'll be here awhile." he then sat down at the table with the Key Tome.

Harry followed suite and sat next to Sirius, looking straight into his eyes.

Harry found it rather easy to tell Sirius' mood. His eyes would look almost like a silver grey when he was excited or laughing, but would almost look like a steel grey or stormy when he was angry or focused.

He was definitely focused right now.

"Occlumency is a way for a witch or wizard to strengthen their mind." Sirius explained, smiling at Harry assuringly.

"The mind can be strengthened by our magic just like our bodies are. That's why we live decades longer than muggles. We also don't normally have severe illnesses until the last few years of life most of the time. Follow what I'm saying?" He asked.

"Yes, please professor Black," Harry grinned, "Continue."

Sirius scoffed with a smile on his face.

"Cheeky brat," He chuckled, "Remus could be transformed and he'd still be a better teacher."

"I couldn't imagine." Harry laughed at the image of a werewolf on its hindlegs, holding a ruler at a board.

"But anyway," Sirius shook his head, "Back to Occlumency. Occlumency helps to master your emotions and to control them instead of you being controlled by them. It also helps with remembering things and keeping focus, but that's more advanced. Most Pureblood families teach it to their children to protect any secrets they may have."

"Protect from what?" Harry asked.

Sirius groaned at the question.

"This'll take awhile." He mumbled.

"Fudge is behind this," Cyrus Greengrass grumbled irritably to his wife, "I'm sure of it."

He'd received a summons for a full Wizengamot meeting for the 'Breaching of the Statute of Secrecy' and 'Underage use of Magic in a muggle area' by one Harry James Potter.

It was obviously an attempt at making an example of the boy-who-lived. The things that were said by him and Dumbledore over the summer weren't seen as positive for the Ministry, especially Fudge and his backers.

The letter was an official Wizengamot summons when a full trial was done with all the Noble houses having to take their seats to judge.

"A full trial for underage magic is obviously not normal," His wife, Roxanne, thought, noticing exactly what he was thinking, "What the boy has said over the summer is definitely linked with trying to keep him quiet."

Cyrus hummed in acknowledgement, leaning back in his chair.

His study had seen more use this summer than it had in the previous couple years since Daphne and later Astoria started going to Hogwarts. He had Daphne keep her ear to the ground about anything that her housemates were mentioning about the Dark Lord's alleged return at the end of her fourth year.

Cyrus was doubtful, but you don't try and bury someone or something unless you don't want something found.

"Either Dumbledore found something on Fudge," He speculated, glancing at his wife's eyes, "Making Fudge try and play character assassination against him, with Potter being caught in the crossfire, or it's what I fear could be."

Roxanne leaned forward and cupped his cheek, smiling at him softly.

"We got through the last war," She assured him, kissing his cheek, "If he has returned, we'll get through it again. I trust you, Cyrus."

"I barely was able to stay out of it," He reminded her, "My idiot brother nearly destroyed our family with what he did."

His father had refused to support either faction, maintaining the previous contracts with selling potion ingredients and medicinal products to the Auror force from before hostilities broke out, but refused to expand them, even when they were threatened with charges of treason and accusations of collaborating with You-know-who.

But his fool brother defied their father, went and got himself killed by the Aurors during a raid with his arm carrying the Dark Mark. He always was temperamental.

The strain of holding off a borderline Inquisition following the death of the Dark Lord sent his father to an early grave. Bartemius Crouch Sr. at the helm of the DMLE had set the legal precedence that trials could be forgone in the event of war, Purebloods or not.

Several innocent people were imprisoned from having a confession tortured out of them. When it was uncovered that a handful of Aurors had been discovered taking advantage of the increased allowances they were offered in using Unforgivables as the war heated up, a massive blow to Crouch and magical law enforcement occurred.

And that didn't include the scandal that was Auror Sirius Black.

A decorated Auror that had identified different masked Death Eaters that he had fought turning out to be an Inner Circle member of the Death Eaters was a disaster for the DMLE. Lucius Malfoy and a few others had taken advantage of the doubt cast and were given plausible deniability when they declared they were Imperioused by the Dark Lord.

The generous donations of private wealth to rebuild the damage done during the war helped to cover up most doubts of innocence for the 'Unfortunate Purebloods that were falsely called muggleborn haters and terrorists.'

"We'll get through it." Roxanne repeated, looking him straight in the eyes, "If he has returned, we won't need to do anything. We have our potions business and the villa in Spain. We can leave if things get worse."

They grew their own potion ingredients, most being in the small properties they had spread out in a couple different countries. The Greengrass family made their money from selling potions for the better part of 300 years.

Cyrus sighed and smiled at her, pulling her into an embrace.

"You're right, luv," He whispered, "But what do you think of the charges themselves?" he switched back to the contents of the letter that sparked the entire conversation.

"I think the charges have some truth to them," she voiced, "Underage magic in the muggle world is forbidden, but it could have been self defense, even adult wizards are offered some leeway."

Self defense laws concerning attacks from muggles was a very hot topic for centuries. The issues and divisiveness wasn't exclusively muggleborns and the Progressive faction against the Traditionalist faction.

Several muggleborns and half-bloods wanted laws that would allow them to use lethal spells to defend against muggles if they were in a percieved sense of mortal peril, as did several Purebloods. But the current laws on the books were very strict on what can or can't be used. Those with an apparition license had a duty to attempt to flee before fighting to ensure there wasn't muggles raving about seeing people get struck down by bright lights, losing limbs in the process. This stipulation ends when a child, whether magical or not, is at risk.

The stipulation concerning minors was added back in the 1600s when the ICW was dealing with the nightmare that was the political climate of the 30 Years War. Several nations made it easier for wizards and witches to defend against muggles due to the uptick in attacks on muggleborns from paranoia and accusations of "Heresy". Ironically, a few muggleborns had pressed to possibly erase the memories of muggle parents and raise the children in the magical world to protect them.

"But it says he used a patronus charm," Cyrus pointed at the letter, "Why on Earth would he use a complex spell like that for self defense? A stunner or something else would be more likely."

Roxanne also looked confused at that. Why would a 15 year old use a rather complex spell that was probably an excellent choice of charm to show to muggle parents of witches and wizards when first hearing of magic?

"Could a dementor have been there?" She asked, her voice quiet.

"Not possible," Cyrus shook his head, "They are under the control of the-," his eyes widened and he looked straight into his wife's eyes, "That might be it."

Have a member of the Ministry send a dementor to attack Potter, use that as a means to go after Dumbledore, use the threat of expulsion to get Dumbledore to quiet down on the 'problematic' rhetoric.

Potter, according to his daughter, didn't display a genius intellect in his studies. But he was still intelligent. Intelligent enough to cast a patronus at age fifteen, a feat which few could boast, even if it's not corporeal.

The boy wouldn't use a charm like that if it wasn't a situation that he didn't need to use it.

"The best thing to do," He took a deep breath, "Is to assume Potter is being targeted. I'm certain Dumbledore won't leave him at the mercy of the Wizengamot, it will be beneficial to possibly play sides."

He detailed out a possible plan to benefit themselves without stepping on any toes.

Potter would eventually take up the Lordship of his ancestors. A Lord remembers those who helps him. If Potter does well throughout the trial, Cyrus would jump in to request clarification of things that would aid Potter. If there was indication that the boy was an idiot seeking attention, which he doubted the longer he thought about it, he'd simply sit back and possibly abstain.

"I love when you think of ideas," His wife of 16 years smiled a beautiful grin, "It makes me so happy that I have you as a husband." her grin then turned predatory.

"Oh," He questioned, a smile dancing on his face, "Is it just my mind that you love?"

"Hmm," She hummed happily, stroking his cheek, "I think I can think of some other things." She leaned in and captured his lips with her own.

They were in each other's arms for a few minutes, before the two separated.

At his wife's confusion, he tried to speak.

"I need to talk with Daphne." He said, trying to catch his breath.

"That can wait." She posted, leaning forward to kiss him again.

"No," He tried to sound stern, but he wasn't enjoying what he had to do, "I need to speak with her about Potter and this school year. He probably won't be expelled and she needs to know what to do this year. She needs to be careful."

Roxanne muttered something under breath, before sitting up and stepping away from him.

"I'll tell her you want to talk with her." She said as she walked out of the study.

She's not happy. He thought. Maybe I should have waited. Well, too late now.

Roxanne came back with their eldest daughter just a few minutes later, shot him a wink behind her, and stepped out to the hallway.

"Father." His daughter smiled walking towards him.

"Daphne." he nodded, gesturing for her to sit.

As she got close to him, she scowled.

"Must you and Mum do that when we're here?" She asked, shaking her head.

"I don't follow." He responded, hoping she didn't notice.

"I wondered why Mum's hair was jumbled," she muttered irritably.

"She could have put her hand through her hair." He countered with a raised brow.

"You have lipstick on your face." She deadpanned.

His eyes widened and he put his hand to his face to wipe it off, but found nothing on his face.

He raised a brow towards her, noticing the smug grin on her face.

"Liar." She grinned, looking rather pleased with herself.

"Even if you didn't have my hair," He chuckled, running a hand through his short, slicked back blond hair, "I'd never doubt whether you're my daughter."

"Really, Father," She smiled still, a soft laugh filling the room, "We already talked about this," She then switched to a chiding tone, "Both 'Tori and I are Mum's, and any son is yours."

Cyrus just snorted at what his daughter said.

"Sounds like something I would say, dear daughter of mine." He stressed the last word while smiling.

Daphne stared at him with a cold expression for a couple minutes, before her demeanor cracked and she started laughing at the little game she and her father played ever since he taught her wordplay in preparation for her taking over the family business.

"Dad." She smiled, walking towards his chair and hugging him.

"Daphne." He beamed, planting a kiss on her forehead, "Did your mother tell you what I wished to speak about?"

"No, she didn't," Daphne answered, stepping away and looking at her father with a normal expression, "What do you want to speak about?"

"Harry Potter." Was his reply.

Daphne blinked, confused by the response.

"Potter?" she asked, almost speaking to herself, "What about Potter?"

Cyrus reached for the letter he received and handed it to her, gesturing for her to read it.

She grabbed the letter and began reading, her eyes slowly widening as she read it repeatedly.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked.

Cyrus sometimes let Daphne read transcripts of Wizengamot meetings and trials to prepare her for taking headship of their house whenever he'd step down years from now. He started teaching her himself years ago, but certain events were accelerating her training. Flamel's Stone. The Chamber of Secrets. The escape of Sirius Black. The fiasco of last year. Things were becoming chaotic for unknown reasons, and he didn't want his daughter ill prepared for any coming storm if something were to befall him.

"He's either an idiot or he got attacked." She said simply, handing the letter back to him.

"Think more than that, Daphne," he frowned, "Why would he use a patronus if he were attacked?"

Daphne thought for a moment, before her eyes shot open.


Cyrus nodded.

"It's possible that someone wanted him silenced, or to warn off Dumbledore from saying anything."

"Do you think the Dark Lord is back, father?" she asked seriously.

"I honestly don't know," He muttered, "But we need to prepare for every eventuality. Now, what would you do if you were in my position concerning this trial?"

Daphne furrowed her brow in thought, fiddling with a lock of her hair in a slight tick she did when she was thinking deeply.

"I'd see what Potter says first," She explained, looking directly to her father, "He'll be a good ally, being the Boy-who-lived, even with the current issues this summer. If he had a good reason, we back him up under the guise of helping an heir to a Noble and Ancient house to please the Traditionalists, and we sell it as helping out the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord to please the Progressives. A favour from a future Lord would be useful as well."

No matter how much you jest otherwise. Cyrus smiled to himself. You are definitely my daughter before your mother's."Is that what you'll be doing?" She asked curiously.

"In all likelihood." he nodded, giving his daughter a proud look.

"You've made great progress in reading the Great Game," He smiled, "I'm very proud of you."

He stood up and walked to her, pulling her into a hug.

"You may be a young woman now," He said, still a head taller than her, "But you'll always be my little girl. You're just as smart and brilliant as your mother, both you and Astoria."

"Thanks, Dad." She mumbled into his chest, before looking up at him.

She smiled at him and pulled away, a look of questioning now showing on her face.

"Is there anything else?" she asked.

"No." he answered smoothly, sitting back down at his desk,"That's all now."

Daphne nodded and turned to exit the room.

"Want the door closed?"

He nodded and she closed the door, a soft clack being heard as the locking spell activated.

Daphne made her way to her room, hoping to finish the letter she wanted to send to Tracey.

Her best friend had wanted advice on whether she should tell Blaise she liked him. But Daphne had no clue what to say. She never had a boyfriend, for Merlin's sake.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts of the conversation she had with her father that she didn't see what was about to happen.

"Duck season!" A familiar voice shouted, a dungbomb flying through the air and striking her in the face.

Daphne shrieked as it exploded, feeling like she just fell in a sewer.

"Tori!" She screamed, almost retching at the smell of the dungbomb that exploded on her face.

Her younger sister was laughing hysterically, the Disillusionment charm she had on her breaking with her moving too quickly.

"Got you, Daphy." She said through her bouts of laughter.

Daphne growled, trying not to breath through her nose.

"Stop. Calling. Me. That." She gritted out. She hated that nickname.

Ever since their mother had introduced them to muggle 'cartoons' years ago, Astoria had loved Looney tunes. Daphne didn't care for the muggle shows, but Astoria adored them. One of the absolutely insane characters was a duck named Daffy, which Astoria called her relentlessly with their mothers quiet approval.

Astoria still kept giggling, covering her nose and fanning the air.

"Wow," She grinned, her hazel eyes alight with glee, "You really stink."

I'm going to kill her. She thought. Mum and Dad will forgive me. They can still make another one. They're still young enough. They can make one that isn't this insufferable.

"Tori," She glared, breathing heavily, "Run."

Astoria's eyes widened and she took off running.

Daphne chased after her, unable to catch up to her sister.

She eventually got within a foot of grabbing her sister's jacket, but she suddenly tripped and landed on the ground in a heap.

Groaning, she got up to see what tripped her. She heard her mother's stifled laughter around the corner.

"Mum?" She asked, eyes full of betrayal.

"Yes, sweety?" She asked kindly, her wand tucked behind her back.

"Why?" She demanded, angry that her own mother helped the little beast prank her.

"Well your father insisted he talk with you, so in a way, it's actually your father's fault."

She's just mad that I interrupted her and his 'fun time'. She groaned in disgust. She didn't want to think of her parents doing that even when she wasn't in the house.

Her mother gave her a knowing smile, easily reading her expression.

"You'll be fine," Roxanne assured her, "Nothing to be healed."

"She threw a dungbomb at my face." She said disgustedly.

Roxanne just shrugged and laughed softly.

"Nothing a cleaning charm won't fix."

Daphne still glared at her mother, but stood up and walked towards her, looking at her wand as an unspoken request.

"Oh alright." Her mother rolled her eyes, waving her wand to cast a cleaning charm on her daughter's face and clothing.

"You put the Disillusionment charm on her." Daphne frowned, knowing only her mother would do that.

"Guilty." She shrugged with a smile, enjoying the look on her daughter's face.

"Why did you have to let her watch that insufferable muggle show?"

"Why?" Roxanne asked, still smiling, "I don't know why you wouldn't like it." She said with faux seriousness.

"She nicknamed me after that infernal duck." She gritted out, glaring at her mother.

"She's just having her fun, Daphne." Roxanne pointed out, "Don't take it too seriously."

Daphne just rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to my room to finish a letter."

"To a boy?"

"No," Was the short reply, "It's to Tracey."

Her mother had teased her constantly about boys ever since she had played a few jokes on her father about having a boyfriend. He was not pleased when he found out his daughter had been playing her idea of a joke on him, with Roxanne running cover for Daphne, adding credence to it.

"I'll let you go then. But Daphne," she added, just as Daphne started to go to her room, "I'll tell Astoria to stop for a little bit. This year is going to be stressful enough for you, so I'll tell her to find something else to do."

"Thanks, Mum." Was Daphne's reply as she walked to where her room was, getting to the doorway and shutting it.

Daphne took a deep breath and focused her mind like her father had taught her for years. She had very developed Occlumency for someone her age, at least from what her father had told her.

Occlumency lessons were non-negotiable for the heirs and heiress' of Noble houses, too many secrets that can be taken by a Legilimens.

After going through an Occlumency exercise to calm her irritation at her sister, she went back towards her small personal table to finish her letter.

She got there and began finishing out the letter, telling Tracey that she didn't see an issue with talking to Blaise when they get back to school.

She finished up the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and called for a house elf to take the letter to where they kept the couple owls they had.

Pipsy, one of their elves, appeared and took the letter. A quick thank you was all she could get out before the elf disappeared with a crack.

Now that she was alone again, she started thinking of what the new school year would bring. Fifth years would have their O.W.L.S, making this year particularly hectic. Even without all the nonsense about the Dark Lord being back, the year would be taxing on her.

She felt confident in her studies, being the highest scoring student in her year of Slytherins, as well as being the second in more than one class, being behind Granger.

She didn't like Granger all that much. Sounding like a know it all several times, on top of being a muggleborn, didn't engender sympathy from a few Pureblood students, even those that didn't have prejudices against those of muggle birth.

Back to what father said. She scolded herself, returning back to the thoughts about Potter.

Potter could cast a patronus, surprising for a fifteen year old. There's a chance he could have been tutored by Dumbledore, but other things didn't make sense.

Aside from DADA, he wasn't a spectacular performer in class. He was in the top half of every one, and being a little higher up in charms, but his grades and demeanor didn't scream Greatness or brilliance.

It was also noticed that he seemed to have either no understanding, or no care on what his place in Magical Britain was. She'd initially thought the rumours of him living with muggle relatives was just a smokescreen to throw off anyone trying to dig for where he was. But the last couple of years seemed to put that idea aside.

Not acting like someone of his station in society. No interest in trying to make allies out of the heirs of houses in their year. Either he'd been taught to play the part of naive ignorance very well, or he genuinely was raised by muggle relatives and knows nothing.

The bloody patronus part kept messing with her though. A muggle raised student, even one that was extremely capable, wouldn't be able to cast it at their age. She herself had tried it and could barely make a tiny cloud of mist with the charm without leaving her feeling drained.

And speaking of that, why the hell would Potter cast that spell? If he wanted to torture or attack muggles, if he was a lunatic, you don't use a spell that looks as beautiful as bright, ethereal mist, you use spells that hurt. But if he was attacked, he would have used a stunner or some other spell that wasn't one that couldn't hurt people.

So the possibility of a dementor attacking him was much more plausible than you'd normally think, just as her father believed it possible.

Shaking her head, she walked to the other side of her room, grabbed a book from her personal bookcase, laid down in her bed, and began reading.

They'd talked for several hours about Occlumency and what books he could be permitted to read.

Harry was back in Regulus' room, reading a book on Occlumency that Sirius was having him read before he could start reading up on some of the curses and hexes in the Black books.

The Occlumency book was the same one he used to learn Occlumency in the future, finding it very easy to learn after the removal of the horcrux.

There were a few ways to learn Occlumency, the one Snape attempted being arguably the worst one to teach Harry.

What Snape did was repeatedly probe his mind to force his mind to create an instinctive defense against intrusion, with repeated attempts being used to 'callous over' the vulnerable parts of his mind.

The method was normally reserved for when someone was on a very tight schedule and the castor not containing finesse. Snape was more than likely very capable with Legilimency to the point that the method wasn't necessary because of any lacking skill on his part. So it meant it was because Harry needed to develop defenses as quickly as possible, but the method was useless when he had a connection underneath any form of Occlumency.

But Harry still read the book, mainly for leisure reading. Sirius would ask him questions on how far he had gotten in the book later.

To Harry's surprise, Sirius was actually capable of Legilimency, just not on the same level as Snape. Severus Snape could only be considered inferior in the mind arts to Dumbledore and Voldemort. The man was a truly intelligent wizard, as much as it irritated Harry to admit that.

Sirius basically offered Harry the opportunity to learn the basics of Occlumency over the summer, something that didn't happen before.

Harry could only assume that Kreacher commenting about him feeling like 'Master' meant something to Sirius. Harry didn't know if there had been any plans in place that involved him being the recognized heir to House Black in the past. He'd read the journals of the Black Lords of the past, Arcturus Black being the most recent.

The man had spent his last year's trying to find a way to get Sirius out of Azkaban, but every plan he had formulated had gone to hell in a hand basket when he'd contracted an illness that robbed him of his strength and killed him long before he would have died from natural causes.

The last several parts of his journal were difficult to read, the shakiness from a weak grip on a quill was noticable in the otherwise impeccable handwriting.

But there was a plan Harry knew would work, and it was one he planned on bringing up with Sirius.

The Triwizard Tournament was a blessing in disguise. Due to the screw up with him being declared a champion, the Ministry temporarily made him an emancipated minor.

The temporary part wouldn't end until the new school year.

As the last member of house Potter, the laws pertaining to using magic in the presence of muggles differed slightly.

In such a situation, breaching the Statute of Secrecy was forgiven.

But Harry didn't do that.

Dudley Dursley was aware of the magical world. He knew that his cousin was a wizard. No breach occurred. Muggleborns were allowed to cast magic around their parents when they had graduated Hogwarts, as they were in the know.

That left only the underage part. The temporary emancipation was already a murky grey area. At first glance, it looked like the Ministry buggered up the Triwizard Tournament, a convicted Death Eater that was declared dead impersonating a former employee sabotaging the tournament to get a minor forced to compete in a potentially lethal tournament. The Ministry would have been on the chopping block for forcing a minor to compete, but the quiet emancipation prevented that from being forced to be made public. People just assumed he'd found a way to cheat and got his name in there, the Daily Prophet running interference to hide the screw up on the part of the Department of Magical Games and Sports as well as the Department of Magical Cooperation.

Dumbledore would probably know this, but the lynchpin required him to be the Black heir. It could shake things up enough to force Fudge to promptly clear all charges to prevent more things from coming to light.

A Gryffindor he may be, but Harry learned to enjoy the little word games Daphne would play. She was the one that taught him how to play the game of politics, the political intrigue of Wizarding Britain.

He set down the book and considered a plan of his, a plan that could go very good, or very bad.

He needed to have Gringotts confirm that the emancipation gave him access to the Black vault now, instead of when he turned 17.

The use of the Black vault was heavily restricted, even before Arcturus locked down the vault after the deaths and imprisoning of most of his grandchildren.

Dumbledore was his magical guardian, being appointed that at the end of the war. It was law that the headmaster of Hogwarts be given that role for muggleborns, with Harry practically being one for all intents and purposes.

But Dumbledore didn't have access to business concerning the workings of House Black or Potter.

The heir ring was in the vault. He'd need the ring as confirmation of his status. As heir apparent of a near extinct line, and one that didn't include the obvious one, he could demand Veritaserum be used, even if Fudge attempted to block it.

Many paths to dealing with the farce of a trial, but only one to get Sirius free.

And he needed to know if it could be done.

Taking a deep breath, his Occlumency in place, he called for Kreacher.

The elf appeared with a crack, eying Harry curiously.

"Half-blood master called?" He asked.

"Yes or no, Kreacher," Harry said simply, "Can you keep a secret from Sirius?"

Kreacher gave a wheezing laugh.

"Being sneaky, Half-blood master?" He asked, "Blood traitor master be not liking that."

"Answer me, elf." Harry ordered, using a clipped tone.

Kreacher straightened up.

"Kreacher be not keeping secrets if master asks."

"And if he doesn't ask explicitly?"

Kreacher blinked at the question.

"Kreacher does not need to tell master something he doesn't ask."

"Good," Harry muttered, leaning towards the elf, "I need you to be discreet and get me out of here." He pointed around the room, "I have business that needs to be done in Diagon Alley that I don't want anyone knowing."

"Kreacher could let slip to master Sirius what Half-blood master be doing." Kreacher replied, "Sneaky Half-blood besmirching the name of Black."

"Keep your mouth shut on this," Harry leaned towards the elf, "And I'll help you fulfill Regulus' wish."

Kreacher gasped and staggered back, eyes impossibly large.

"Master knows. Half-blood master knows Kreacher is bad elf," He started punching himself, "Kreacher couldn't destroy locket. Kreacher failed!"

Harry grabbed ahold of Kreacher to stop him from hurting himself.

"Kreacher, stop it." He demanded, the elf stopping when he was commanded.

"How does master know?" Kreacher wept, shaking horribly.

"I fought the Dark Lord, that locket stinks of his magic." Was the firm response, "Sirius said his brother left the Death Eaters and was killed. Cowardice was what he called it. But he wasn't leaving out of fear, was he, Kreacher?"

Kreacher nodded shakily.

"Regulus saw something that made him leave, something so foul that he turned against the Dark Lord, didn't he?"

Kreacher nodded again.

"That locket was what got him killed, wasn't it?"

Another nod.

"Tell me what happened." Harry said softly, mindful of how terrible the memory would be.

House elves generally lived longer when the family they are bonded to is whole and healthy in mind and magic.

House Black was already on unsure footing by the time of the first Blood War. The war with Grindelwald killed over half of the Blacks, many of them either siding with Grindelwald or joining the war against him before Magical Britain officially declared open hostilities with Europe's Dark Lord at the time.

The near destruction of house Black in both wars did severe damage to the magic of much of the house elves of the Blacks, going insane and requiring them to be mercifully killed, their heads now displayed.

Kreacher was the only one in the main line of Black house elves that lived this long, the others wasting away. With his inability to destroy the locket and fulfill his master's last order, Kreacher's magic had twisted and was slowly destroying his mind further, only to still live because he actually tried to destroy it.

Kreacher looked at Harry and told the entire tale of what happened.

Harry knew it all, but he still paid close attention.

After he was finished, Kreacher looked at Harry with confusion.

"Master Harry wants Kreacher to help him?"

"I need to get to Diagon Alley, it will help me to defeat the Dark Lord...just like Regulus wanted."

"Blood traitor master and others want to defeat the Dark Lord too."

"They won't understand what I'm doing," Harry explained, "Sirius won't believe anything about Regulus right now. I need to keep this secret. Can you help me, so I can help you destroy the locket?"

"Kreacher will help master Harry keep secret," The elf nodded, "Kreacher will not tell."

"Good." Harry said, straightening up and making sure the Occlumency book was closed.

"I'll need to be careful," He muttered out loud intentionally, "My wand still has the Trace. Not like there's spare wands handy."

There was in fact several wands to spare. Family members had a higher chance of their wands working somewhat for children or nieces and nephews. The Blacks had the distinct practice of letting their children do practical magic inside the house while using spare ones from previous relatives that bequeathed their wands to the family when they died. Extra time using magic before Hogwarts ensured they'd have an edge over incoming half bloods and muggleborns raised in the muggle world.

Not strictly legal, but good luck tracing it and getting a warrant to enter the home of the Blacks."Master Harry," Kreacher said frantically, causing Harry to turn, "Theres be spare wands in Lord's study."

"Can you get one for me?" He asked, not wanting to risk tripping the wards at night and waking up Sirius.

"Kreacher be forbidden from touching wands," He shook his head, "Masters tell Kreacher to never give wand to heir without permission."

"Damnit." Harry muttered, before he remembered what Sirius said.

"Whenever you need, don't hesitate to talk about anything. No matter the time." He had said.

"Wait here." He looked at Kreacher, before exiting the room to head to where Sirius slept.

He got to Sirius' room and knocked, hearing slight noises, before hearing a sharp sound, followed by Sirius swearing.

The door opened and he saw his godfather, eyes bleary from sleep whilst grimacing and clutching his foot.

"Yes, Harry?"He asked.

"You alright, Padfoot?" Harry asked, glancing at the older man's foot.

Sirius looked down as well and snorted.

"Kicked the bed accidentally. What do you want?"

Harry's eyes caught where the bed was, seeing that no sheets were on it, nor pillows.

Does he sleep on the floor? Was Harry's thought.

"I wanted to use the study," He started, lifting up the Occlumency book, "I don't want this just laying around."

Sirius nodded his understanding.

"The wards would have alerted me when you went in there." He said, rubbing at his eyes, "Go ahead. Thanks for warning me. Causes a real bloody headache when you're sleeping and it trips."

"Night Padfoot."

"G'night, Harry." Sirius nodded, before closing the door.

Harry turned back to head to the Lord's study, calling for Kreacher quietly. The elf appeared with a soft crack, sensing his master's wish to try and muffle the sound.

Kreacher followed him to the study, before Harry put his hand on the door, felt a slight pinch when the rune cluster felt his magic, and the door swung open.

Kreacher followed him in, Harry giving a questioning look on where the wands were.

"Wands be in hidden books." Kreacher pointed at the singular bookcase in the room.

Harry walked towards it and started touching the books, looking for the false one.

He knew which one he needed, having used the wand before.

He grasped ahold of the book, feeling the enchantment on it give, revealing it to be a container with runes on it.

Harry carried it over to the table and looked at it like he was trying to decipher what to do.

He'd studied runes after the war, having gained an appreciation for them when he stopped to listen to Hermione about how effective they were.

The central rune required a blood sample or a sample of magic that was tied to the wards of the room to open.

He pressed his hand on it and pushed a small amount of magic into it, the container opening with a small hiss sound.

Harry looked in and saw 7 different wands. He grabbed the one that he knew worked best for him.

The wand of Arcturus Black.

Oak. Dragon heartstring. 10 and 3/4 inches.

The wand wasn't the same as his own Holly wand, not even close, but it was the best one of the lot.

He slipped the wand in his pocket, put the container back where it was after closing it, and left the room, shutting the door.

Harry got back to Regulus' room and turned to Kreacher.

"Can I have some privacy for a moment?" He asked, gesturing to his clothes, "I need to change."

Kreacher nodded and disappeared with a crack.

Harry pulled out his trunk and grabbed a set of robes that he transfigured to look less like school robes, and more like regular robes that most wizards wear.

He slipped them on and went to look at the mirror in the bathroom.

He began the complex task of putting a glamour on his face, changing the colour of his eyes and hair, shifting how his face looked a bit, and covering up his scar now that it was more faded and wasn't as resistant to concealing from containing a soul shard.

After he was done, he left the bathroom and called for Kreacher, who appeared again.

"I'm ready now, Kreacher." Harry told the elf.

Kreacher wasn't aware of how capable Harry was at magic, and simply assumed that he was much more skilled than others his age, especially since he had Black blood and was using Master Arcturus' wand.

Kreacher looked up and grabbed ahold of Harry's robes, taking the two to an apparition point in Diagon Alley.

They arrived in the Alley, only a few people around. It was late at night and most people assumed that Harry was just another wizard of a less than imposing height.

"Go now," Harry whispered, "I'll call for you when I need you."

Kreacher nodded and disappeared with a crack.

"Harry walked through Diagon Alley, glancing at some of the stores.

He'd need to stop by Knockturn Alley, the Apothecary being closed in Diagon, to grab some nutrition potions to begin trying to correct some of the physical damage done to him from staying with the Dursleys.

With his magic unbound, he'd probably grow a few inches from a mix of his magic being free to heal the long term issues, and the nutrition potions to jumpstart a growth spurt.

A strong body meant stronger magic. Being physically weakened meant more of your magic was being spent trying to heal the injuries. Even with the magical potential of the greats, he needed every ounce of it to kill Voldemort.

Tom Riddle had made sure he was physically capable, even if he was magically powerful, several rituals being undertaken to enhance his overall health to make sure his body wouldn't fatigue as easily if he was in a prolonged fight.

You needed to be fit and agile to maneuver in duels, a quick side step or dodge could save your life just as much as a shield could.

He eventually arrived at the front of Gringotts, the armored guards giving him a look of challenge.

He ignored them and entered the bank, heading straight to one of the tellers.

He went up to one of the goblins, who gave him a bored look.

"Yes?" was the flat question.

"I need to speak with whichever goblin is in charge of validation of inheritance."

The goblin raised a brow in question, leaning in more closely to look at him.

"Sharpfang is in charge of such things. I will tell him that a customer is here."

Harry nodded and the goblin left to bring back the one in charge.

After a short while, the goblin came back with another one that looked older than the first.

"Sharpfang, I presume?"

"You presume correctly, wizard." Sharpfang deadpanned, "What business concerning inheritance do you wish to make?"

Harry pulled his hood back and tapped his forehead, the half functioning glamour on his scar fading.

Sharpfang smirked, glancing at the wand in Harry's hand.

"I'm certain I can help you Mr. Potter." He said quietly, "Follow me." the goblin pointed to a door to Harry's left, before walking towards it.

Harry followed the Sharpfang through the door, the goblin heading to an office room not far away.

Sharpfang opened the door and gestured for Harry to enter, which he did.

Sharpfang went to his desk, sat down, and began taking out a couple of items, including a quill and some parchment.

"Do you mind dropping the glamour?" The goblin asked, "I'd like to see the face of who I speak to."

Harry nodded and flicked his wand at his face, the glamour fading from his features.

Sharpfang grunted.

"Definitely a Potter." He shrugged, writing something on the sheet of parchment.

The Potter family had been around for quite some time, no surprise that a goblin like Sharpfang would recognize someone as a Potter.

Harry had interacted with the goblin a couple of times in the future, much of the intricacies of inheritance needed to be addressed when he was made Lord Black.

"For the sake of the record, tell me your name, date of birth, and what things concerning inheritance you wish to discuss."

"Harry James Potter, July 31st, 1980, I wish to have an inheritance test to determine my status as heir of house Black and Potter."

Sharpfang stared at him in shock.

"Black?" he asked incredulously.


Sharpfang blinked several times, trying to absorb the news.

"Wait here." He instructed, standing up to leave the room.

After the goblin left, Harry lounged back in the chair to wait, thinking of the plan again.

Getting confirmation that he was the heir through Gringotts meant he could open up access to items from the Potter vault, items he definitely needed.

Several rare objects, including dragonhide, was in the Potter vault. Centuries of a martial inclination meant the Potters were in possession of a dangerous arsenal of spells and equipment for the waging of war that was built up with each generation.

The last war had shrunk the stockpile, James Potter being very generous in helping to equip the Order to survive a war against Death Eaters that consisted of the most dangerous of duelists and fighters due to most Inner Circle members being Purebloods with their own private funds.

Several minutes passed before Sharpfang returned with another goblin holding a box.

At Harry's look of question, Sharpfang spoke.

"We'll need to test whether you are heir apparent or not."

Harry nodded, already knowing what the test was.

The other goblin set the box on the table and dragged a claw along the edge of it.

The box seemed to unfold and revealed a couple of objects, a knife with runes on it and a rune stone.

"You will need to put 3 drops of blood on the stone," Sharpfang explained, setting the stone apart from everything.

"What will it do?" Harry asked.

"If you're correct that you are the heir, it will glow green." He explained.

Harry nodded and grabbed the knife, stabbing the side of his hand and let the blood drip onto the stone.

The stone turned green.

"Well that's settled then." Sharpfang said, the other goblin boxing up the objects, "You are the official heir to house Black and your magical guardian will be conta-"

"No," Harry said simply, "I am emancipated and therefore am entitled to not releasing the fact that I'm the heir."

Sharpfang tilted his head at that.

"I was unaware that you were emancipated. Was your other query about your standing as the Potter heir related to that?"


"Are you wishing to make a withdrawal?"

"Yes, I am."

Sharpfang eyed him critically.

"I will need to speak with my superiors, this is rather atypical. I haven't handled emancipated heirs. I shall be back."

Sharpfang left again, leaving Harry alone.

Sharpfang returned with a well dressed, elderly goblin that was using a cane that looked to have silver woven into the wood.

"Mr Potter?" The elder goblin asked with a gravelly voice.

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"Young Sharpfang has informed me of the situation. You're in a rather strange position, but I know the solution to this unfortunate complication."

The goblin paused to walk towards a chair, sitting down with a sigh.

"The Ministry appears to have emancipated you temporarily, leaving you the power to access your family's ancestral vaults earlier than the legal majority. You are aware of this?"

At Harry's nod, the goblin continued.

"As such, you may make whatever withdrawal you need to make, so long as it does not exceed the limit on what the heir can take."

"I only plan to grab a few items," Harry stated.

"Ah, then no problem then. Now, on to the topic of house Black."

Harry straightened his posture more and looked the goblin directly in the eye.

"As Sirius Black is considered a wanted criminal and the treaty between Gringotts and the Ministry declares that we do not give any convicted criminals access to the heir ring or Lord's ring, he is not qualified to withdraw whatever he wishes."

Sirius could still make withdrawals from his own personal vault, but not the Black vault. He technically wasn't convicted, but Harry wasn't going to bring that up right now.

"You, as the heir, are entitled to receiving the heir ring, which is currently in the vault. Do you wish to remove it from the vault?"

"Yes, I do."

The elderly goblin looked at the wand that Harry had set on the table to be in view of the goblins, as was policy.

"That is not your wand. That is the wand of Arcturus Black."

Harry raised a brow at the goblin, who gave a grin.

"I was the bank representative that handled the Black family for nearly 60 years, Arcturus was quite a fun wizard to work with."

Harry was slightly on guard now, which didn't go unnoticed by the goblin.

"You don't want it to get out that you are the Black heir. I know that look. That you have the previous Lord's wand, and not your own, means it is not simply a means to use magic as a minor. You're planning something, something that will shake things up." The goblin continuing to grin.

"Gringotts respects the privacy of its customers," The goblin smiled toothily, "As you are an adult in the eyes of the Ministry, no one will know that you were here, unless you wished to inform them."

Harry nodded to the goblin, pleased with the situation.

Discreetness was what he needed, and Gringotts was very generous to those that did business with them. Scratch my back, I scratch yours.

"Is that all?" Harry asked politely, "It is rather late, and I'd like to finish up. I do have other matters to attend to."

The elder goblin chuckled, almost sounding like a wheeze.

"Very well, heir Black, a goblin will assist you in going to your vaults. A drop of your blood will be needed to make a key, before a permanent one can be supplied. Pleasure doing business." The goblin finished, standing up from the chair and leaving.

Before the goblin left, Harry said one more thing.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name."

The goblin stopped, stood still for a moment, and slowly turned to face Harry.

"Ragnok," The goblin grinned predatorily, "Director Ragnok."

Harry stiffened at the answer.

Ragnok was the director of all goblin holdings in Britain, being the highest ranking goblin in the nation.

Ragnok laughed at the look on Harry's face, before leaving.

"Well," Sharpfang said, having been silent as his boss spoke with Harry, "I will send for a goblin to take you to your vaults. I'll use some of the blood from the inheritance test. The rest shall be destroyed." he pointed at the knife.

Harry just nodded mutely, still taken off guard by Ragnok personally coming to speak about this.

The Black holdings were some of the largest that Gringotts possessed. With the rumours of Voldemort's return, of course the goblins would be on guard about anything concerning a succession surprise that would mean the Malfoys would no longer be the ones in line to obtain access to the Black holdings.

Sharpfang had left and returned very quickly with a young goblin that gestured for Harry to follow him.

Harry left the office and heard the door shut, several locks activating, based on the sounds coming from the inside of the door itself.

Harry followed the young goblin to the lower levels of the bank, reaching the rail that would carry them into the deeper areas.

Harry strapped himself in and goblin sat in the front, pressing a lever and they shot downward into the caverns.

Daphne had hated it, thinking him a lunatic for getting a thrill out of the winding movements, the cold air invigorating his lungs, a truly splendid experience.

Her stomach always disagreed with him.

The winding and twisting reminded him of riding a broom, making it all the more fun.

They stopped when they reached the Potter vault, Harry climbing out to head to the front of his ancestors' vault.

On the front of the vault was the Potter family crest.

A wand and sword crossed, with a gryphon looming above.

The goblin pulled out a temporary key that would become inert after 24 hours, sinking it into the front door of the vault.

Harry felt the magic around the door shimmer, before adopting a muted feel to it.

Harry stepped back as the vault door swung open.

The Potter vault was a very impressive one, containing huge amounts of gold and other assorted objects accumulated over the years on one side, properly stored in several chests instead of being cluttered and flung in.

The other side of the room had the combined spell knowledge the Potters had, consisting of hand crafted curses, jinxes, hexes, and defensive spells, with several old tomes penned by those named Peverell who gave their family grimoire and books to the Potter's when the last one to have the Peverell name married a Potter.

But Harry didn't care about the gold as much as what he came here to get. He went towards the back of the vault, ignoring the chests that had Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts sorted amongst a dozen of them.

He got to the back and grabbed ahold of a trunk that looked similar enough to his Hogwarts trunk, save for one small difference.

This one had advanced space expansion charms on it, with runes carved into the inside to give the ability to shut off and turn on the charms, giving them a much greater longevity.

He dragged it out and flipped it open, opened up a chest filled with Galleons right next to him and began putting several handfuls of Galleons in the trunk. Dumbledore could trace what came out of his trust vault, but not from the main Potter vault.

As an afterthought, Harry grabbed a small leather bag from the chest and stuffed some galleons in it, putting it in one of his pockets.

After getting enough galleons, he closed the lid on the chest and the trunk. He then moved to a chest that had several protection charms on it, centered around two locks. He pressed his hand on it and pushed his magic into it, opening up one of the locks.

Bollocks, I forgot the ring. He thought, walking over to the table that was at the center of the vault, holding the Potter heir and Lord rings.

He grabbed the heir ring, put it on, feeling it bite into his finger to get some blood to confirm him as the Potter heir, and walked towards the chest to press the ring on the other lock, unlocking it. He flipped the chest open and saw several strips of dragonhide, the same dragonhide that the cuirass he wore when he was killed was made of.

He took out several strips and put them in his trunk. He then reset the locks, before walking back to the center table and setting back the ring to make sure no one would be the wiser.

With everything settled for the Potter vault, he cast a shrinking charm on the trunk with his borrowed wand to shrink it to the size of a grapefruit, then put it in the pocket of his robe, the weight being reduced by a weight reduction rune set to activate after a certain weight threshold.

He exited his vault with a spring in his step, the door closing behind him with a *thump, the enchantments reactivating.

"Key." He said shortly, looking at the goblin with his hand outstretched.

The young goblin pulled the temporary key out and handed it to Harry, who pocketed it promptly.

No one was getting access, even if for a brief window.

The remaining gold in the vault was all that was left of the wealth of the lines of Potter and Peverell, a majority of it going to funding the war against Voldemort when his grandfather, and later father, were publicly outspoken against Voldemort.

Charlus Potter took Voldemort seriously and had risked the ruin of his House's finances to defeat Voldemort.

Hundreds of lives were saved because of the money dumped into funding the Aurors and Hit Wizards, giving them free access to armour and medical attention. At one dark point, 1/4 of the Auror force was being funded by House Potter, until further funds were drawn up by the Ministry.

The money remaining was still a very large amount, giving him and his family enough to survive off of for multiple generations, but it still was less than what it was.

The House of Potter's financial status was not unlike the state of its members.

Reduced to a shadow of its former self, but still present. Still there.

Still Alive.

After securing the key, Harry strapped himself back in and waited for the goblin to push the lever, which he did.

Another trip through the caverns brought them to the Black vault, labeled number 6.

The Black vault required more than just a simple key to get through.

It required Blood.

Harry stepped out of the trolley and walked towards the vault. He pressed the wand at his palm and pressed down, opening up a cut.

He pressed his hand against the door, feeling a wave of magic and a draining feeling in his hand and arm.

He shivered as he felt like something was tickling his spine, before the sensation disappeared.

The door made a clink sound, opening up to reveal the contents of the vault belonging to the Noble and Most Ancient house of Black.

The Black vault was different from the Potter one, containing more artifacts than the other, as well as most of the books being at Grimmauld Place.

Harry didn't grab a single thing, except for one object resting on a fake wooden hand prop.

The Black heir ring.

Arcturus never put in his journal where the heir ring was. Harry only discovered it was in the vault when he was declared the Lord Black.

Kreacher, in the future, had mentioned that he had thought it odd that Regulus hadn't been wearing the ring when he died, the young man probably realizing he wasn't coming back.

Either Regulus put the ring here himself, or Arcturus did it and kept quiet about it. Harry likely wouldn't know, but he didn't care.

He walked straight to where the ring was and took it off the prop, putting it on his left index finger.

Like the Potter ring, but much more painful, the ring bit into his finger to get a sample of his blood and magic.

"Bloody hell." He muttered, hissing at the pain.

The ring flashed a shade of grey, before settling back to its normal state.

The ring, like the Potter one, had its family crest on it. But instead of a gryphon with a wand and sword, it was a Grimm with a wand pointed straight up, the words Toujours Pur above the Grimm's head.

To think that the 'Black Sheep' of the Blacks had the Animagus form of the symbol of their House. He chuckled internally.

He left the vault, the ring proudly displayed on his finger.

The door sealed shut behind him, but it didn't matter to him at all. He got what he wanted, now there was only one thing left on his list.

He got in the trolley to get back to the surface.

Everything went in a blur. They got to the surface. He left the trolley. He walked back out to the greeting area of the bank and went out the exit.

He ducked into an alleyway when he found one and recast the glamour on himself, after casting a detection spell of course.

He made his way towards Knockturn Alley, wand concealed in his sleeve, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

He entered the Alley and saw a few people making a few shady dealings, though not strictly illegal.

Knockturn Alley was where you went to buy and sell things that would get you labeled a 'Dark wizard' by muggleborns and half-bloods raised in the muggle world that didn't understand nuance in a meaningful way.

Most illegal dealings did occur here, but most overall deals done weren't illegal.

He got to the Apothecary he had in mind, entering the store.

The store was rather dusty, containing a large collection of rare and hard to get items, along equally difficult and expensive potions.

"Who is it?" A voice rang out, a shuffling sound being heard from what was likely be a storage room.

"A customer." Harry called gruffly, a slight charm applied to his larynx to modify his voice.

A man who looked to be in his seventies appeared from the back room, wearing a shirt that wouldn't be out of place in the 50s.

The man scowled at Harry's hood being pulled up to hide his face.

"Most of you lot come in here at night, all sneaky and wanting to keep quiet about things. Is it too much to ask you to be more diverse? Wear something other than black and have a hood up? Hmmnn" he snorted, scratching the side of his head.

"Well, what are you looking for?" He prompted.

"I need nutrition supplements," Harry said simply, "A sizable amount."

"Funny," The man said, "You don't sound or stand like an old man. And I'm bloody certain that you don't work at Saint Mungo's."

"Funny that you're curious," Harry countered, "You get business because you're paid to not be curious."

The man eyed him critically.

"Have you been here before? You seem familiar."

Harry shrugged and pulled out the bag of galleons he took from the Potter vault, setting it on the counter with a loud thud, the coin's jingle being heard.

The man's eyes widened barely perceptively, before his face lit up.

"A pleasure to meet you for the first time, Mr. Smith."

"The pleasure's all mine." Harry's tone oozed faux pleasantness.

"How much are you wanting?"

"12 months worth." Was Harry's reply.

"That will cost 600."

"Bollocks," Harry said irritably, "It won't be any more than 400. Do you take me for a mudblood you can squeeze as much galleons as you want out of?"

"You're definitely not one of those," The man chuckled, "They're too frightened by dark, scary, Knockturn Alley."

"Tell you what mate," he added, "I'll settle for 550. I don't normally get this much of a need for nutritional potions, it's usually old folk that get it to help their health."

"Again, do you take me for a fool? 450."




"Done." Harry answered smoothly, grabbing the bag and counting out the coins with a quick flick of his wand.

The man begged off to grab what Harry wanted, making more than one trip to the back getting the amount Harry requested.

Harry pulled out his trunk, expanded it, and began putting the flasks of potions in the trunk.

The store owner conveniently turned his back to not see the trunk, obviously wanting to earn the amount of payment he was getting.

After Harry put all the potions in the trunk, he re-shrunk it and put it back in his pocket.

"500 galleons." Harry said, handing the bag to the man, the remaining galleons in the bag being put in the trunk.

"Pleasure doing business, Mr Smith. Good luck with whatever you're doing."

Harry smirked and left the store, heading back to the apparition point.

Harry called for Kreacher, who promptly appeared with a crack.

"Master Harry." Kreacher muttered.

"I'm ready, Kreacher." Harry reached out his arm to the elf.

Kreacher nodded and apparated the two back to Grimmauld Place.

Harry, back in Regulus' room, promptly set the wand in the trunk to be hidden until he could put it back tomorrow.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled his robes off, settling himself into bed.

Smiling at what he managed to do, he ran through what all happened.

He had acquired the nutrition potions that he'd be taking to help his body to heal from the damage by the Dursleys, but that was just a secondary goal.

The greatest accomplishment was the Black heir ring. He'd spoken with Kreacher when they first got back about whether the elf new where the heir ring was. Thankfully, Kreacher hadn't known. Harry planned on telling Sirius he found it hidden in Regulus' room, something that Sirius wouldn't doubt if he heard it from his godson.

The heir ring proved he was in line to be the next Lord Black. Any individual that put the ring on and wasn't permitted to by the Lord would have the finger torn off by the ring tightening.

With the trunk from the Potter vault shrunk and hidden inside his school trunk, he was in the clear. He had enough money to do what he needed during the holidays.

The horcruxes would be destroyed in one fell swoop. The Locket, Diadem, and Ring were the easiest, while the cup and Nagini would be more difficult, but would be destroyed eventually.

Harry relaxed further into his bed and closed his eyes, his dreams filled with the memories of golden hair and beautiful blue eyes.

Law of reasonable defense against muggles. 1649. Clause concerning children.In the event of a child's life that is of relation to a witch or wizard being in mortal peril at the hands of muggles, regardless of if the child is in possession of magic or not, the Witch/Wizard is permitted to use lethal force on the aggressing muggle(s) to prevent a loss of life for the child. The use of force will require the use of Veritaserum and/or Legilimency to determine whether the action was geniune defense, or muggle baiting.

Intentional baiting of muggles via using the child as bait to kill muggles is a capital offense and carries an automatic ruling of execution through the casting of the offender into the Veil of Death.

End Chapter:

A lengthy chapter is here and I had fun writing it. I've always been curious how the different conflicts that rocked Europe over the centuries would effect the Wizarding world. The Reformation, Counter Reformation, and the Thirty Years War alone would be collosal.

I pulled the 'defense law' out of some of the rhyming themes in HP fanfiction concerning Pureblood culture, mainly the focus on the importance of family.

Purebloods would assume that muggles are out to get them, with the backdrop of religious upheaval validating it. But muggleborns wouldn't have the luxury of having ancestral homes to hide from muggle mobs. A couple fics have the idea of Obliviating muggle parents and raising the kids in the Wizarding world, but it's only floated by a more 'Wizard minded' Harry, or Purebloods. Rarely, if at all, is it mentioned where muggleborns themselves may prefer to not have their parents and siblings killed because they were gifted with magic, whether by divinity, Fate, or chance. I thought of that after reading several fics and decided to put that in there cause it sounded interesting.

Anyway, here's a nice chapter of healthy link. For those following my other story, Invictus, a new chapter will be out soon, my muse has returned in full force.

Comments are welcome, and may you have a fantastic day.