I Disclaim ownership of Harry Potter.

Alert! Gay sex and kinkiness aplenty! Out-of-characterness! Strange ideas sprouted from my perverted mind! Voyeurism! Guy-on-furniture intercourse! The possibility of a threesome developing. . . and maybe some slight bestiality as well! But hey, Harry's ancestors were kinky bastards, the lot of them, so it's only right to warn you guys about these things, right?

Pickled Brains: This idea smacked me suddenly (like a cold fish, actually), but I was too amused by it not to write it, so here you have it! It'll be an AU fic and the main paring will be between Harry and an Original Character (OC) or two who will be introduced later on. So tell me if you like it, eh?


Chapter One:
The Vault


"Is this it then? It doesn't look like much," sixteen year old Harry Potter commented, eying the rounded surface of the blank wall. It would have looked very much like any other vault door if it weren't for its lack of hinges, locks, carvings or anything that would denote it as a vault door . . . unless you saw it from the right perspective; maybe from very far away? Not to mention that it was made out of the same rock as the rest of the tunnel wall and didn't look to be able to open.

Okay, fuck it! So it didn't really look like a vault door at all, now that he saw it closely enough. There was just no way that he could fool himself into even thinking it was a vault door.

Truly, if the Goblin hadn't told him this was the entrance to his supposed Family Vault (Yes, the words were sneeringly capitalized), he would have thought it was just an odd curved protrusion in the tunnel wall. As if the top of a giant stone sphere were sticking out of it: decoration maybe? After all, no one rightly knew what goblins perceived as art. Maybe a round bump in the wall was their idea of it? He briefly wondered what something like this would fetch in a goblin auction . . .

And would the lot include the tunnel as well?

Whatever the case, he was still standing in front of said bump, looking doubtful and waiting for some kind of proof that this was a vault door.

"This is it, Mr. Potter," his goblin escort confirmed, obviously not thinking very highly of Harry at the moment as he waved at the still blank wall as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that the thing held his inheritance. Then again, he really couldn't blame the tetchy creature; he'd been asking nonstop questions since he arrived in Gringotts Bank. The pointy faced being was probably sick of him already, but then, he didn't much care for it; they should have told him about this vault from the very beginning and not waited until now!

And, okay, maybe not when he was eleven, but certainly when he was thirteen and had spent almost two full weeks in Diagon Alley! He remembered the three trips into Gringotts from those days very clearly.

As things stood, he had received a letter from the goblins a week before his sixteenth birthday, grudgingly telling him that he had a vault to claim; a large, high-security vault. Of course, he was later told that according to Potter Family convention, he could only access his Family Vault when he turned sixteen, thus why they waited to inform him. Usually, a young wizard of the Potter Family would be escorted to the Family Vault by their father at a younger age, where he would be introduced to the Potter Family Heritage.

Yes, in capital lettering again; it was just that important.

Lovely, huh?

Well, they could have at least told him that in their letter, but nooo~, he had to pry those answers out of the goblins along with everything else they knew about his accounts. It seemed they didn't want him to know about it, but were obligated to tell him for some reason. This revelation had him ticked off from the get-go, and he'd wanted to strangle a goblin since. However, the fact they couldn't avoid telling him for some reason put the little runts in a nasty mood, that's for sure. At least they later claimed it was because of family custom that they withheld the information, though they could have told him of the vaults existence —even if he couldn't access it— earlier.

As things stood, Harry still suspected foul play.

He was sure they'd probably wanted him to die before he turned sixteen so they could raid the vault. They were greedy enough for it, he'd recently found out. And who ever said they weren't, or that goblins in general were just misunderstood had obviously never actually met the little buggers.

But this was a special case, not because of who he was, but because this was the first time there was only a single living Potter in the whole family's history (though that was sketchy information at best; wasn't his father the last Potter before he was born?), and as such, there wasn't anyone to guide him through what he would experience in the Vault. At least that's what the goblins had told him after many direct and indirect questions.

Although the spiteful little blighters couldn't lie to him, they were still a slippery bunch of rock-nibbling bastards and he had to grill them incessantly to get even one straight answer. When he asked why he would need guidance, he was only told that it was something only known by members of his family, but that the Potters were known to be quite an odd bunch, with many unknown secrets. Since he was the only one remaining from the lot of them, well, it seemed it was now his sole responsibility to uncover those secrets.

To tell the truth, the concept was pretty exciting. And when he knew those secrets, well, he wasn't going to tell anyone, like he knew they wanted him to.

Wizards and Witches had apparently tried to get to the bottom of the Potter's success for centuries, and the only thing they could conclude was that whatever made them what they had been was contained within this very vault. It was not until the death of his father that his family had strayed into complete obscurity; though he also found out they had actually fallen out of the limelight earlier than that. The reasons for this were mostly unknown, but a great many people had been trying to usurp his right to the vault behind his back and while he was still a brat, at that!

The absolute nerve of them, right? Trying to steal from the orphan boy-hero of the wizarding world!

Apparently, though, they had all failed, and if he understood correctly, a few of them had even been eaten; though he didn't know how that worked. At first, he'd though there were dragons guarding the thing, but as he looked around at the blank stretch of wall with the odd bulging round spot, well, he really didn't want to know how it could have happened.

He sure as hell didn't see any dragons waiting for a crunchy snack, and if there were, he was sorry he hadn't brought the ketchup.

He'd heard somewhere that dragons liked their crunchy things with it, after all.

There seemed to be an unending amount of speculation surrounding this vault and his family, though, so it was hard to separate fact from fiction. He absorbed every detail like a sponge, however, since it was the most he'd ever found about his origins.

In fact, Harry had already heard that it was because of his family that all those inheritance stories and myths about a wizard gaining unusual powers and physical changes after their sixteenth birthday came into being. It seemed his family was not just odd, but 'special' in a way, though he hadn't found out how. Everything was very fuzzy, it seemed.

Apart from that, he had learned nothing concrete, just hearsay and rumours. The goblins themselves weren't too curious, which was only more confusing. But then, he'd heard some of them whispering among themselves when he entered the bank today. It was as if they wanted to know, but were reluctant to even look interested. Maybe it was the same with them having to answer his questions truthfully as well?

Nonetheless, this was his inheritance, his legacy, and at the moment all he could do was look ahead and step forward. Whatever mysteries lay within that vault, if it really was a vault, he would know of them soon enough. The goblins would have to await his reprisal when he was better informed, and the people who had tried to usurp his heritage needed to be found before a suitable amount of retribution could be paid to them as well. He might be honest, caring and forgiving, but this was about his family and their legacy; he would give no mercy to those who tried to take it away!

Taking a deep breath and finally calming his mind somewhat, he looked down at the bored looking goblin. "How does it open, then?" he asked, looking at the supposed 'door.'

Damn, it still looked like a bloated piece of wall and nothing else!

The goblin looked uncomfortable for a split second, before his face became bored once again, as if he were faking his lack of interest, before stepping forward and taking something out of his tunic-like coat and stopping about fifteen feet away from the door, if not more (he wasn't that good at telling distances). If he wasn't mistaken, the creature was even trembling, but he simply added it to his list of 'stuff to find out or ask Hermione about.' Harry saw a vial of, well, something, held in the goblins grasp as the creature seemed to rally his courage and uncorked the small bottle, flinging its contents at the surface of the bulge in the wall before quickly jumping back, as if afraid.

. . . And he could completely understand the sentiment of it.

For not a moment later the bloody wall split open and a freaking tongue darted out of a stone mouth and licked the liquid from the round surface. Eyes opened next as the stone tongue licked its stone lips while a nose and eyebrows sprouted, even as a jaw-cracking yawn emitted from the stone face of his Family Vault, who was shaking itself slightly and with each shake become more and more defined!

Holy shit! He scrambled away, startled. What the bloody hell was that? Talk about creepy!

There were supposed to be dragons or griffins or nundus or something, not a completely weird stone face guarding the vault! Who the fuck came up with this stuff?

He could only stare at it in incredulous curiosity as it smacked its lips loudly (it didn't even sound stony!) and blinked its huge eyes a few times. "Well, that tasted awful," it said in a loud grating kind of voice, deep irritation on its tone even as it grimaced. The face seemed to come more alive as it grew slightly out of the wall and turned to the vaguely shaking creature. "What the bloody hell was that, Goblin?" the thing asked, its tone sharper and less grating, as if it had wet its mouth somewhat, while turning up the volume. In fact, the more Harry looked at it, the more fascinated he became; the face was that of a beautiful young man.

"It was wine, oh Great Guardia—"

The stone head interrupted the snivelling creature rather sharply, "Yeah, yeah, cut the crap. I don't bloody well care for wine, and you bloody well know that, you useless ass-wipe!" it spat. "Now, tell me why I shouldn't fucking eat you right now for waking me up? What is this, the fifth time this year?" The glare the face was giving the goblin was enough to melt steel, so Harry wisely kept his own mouth shut while staying out of sight of the, well, face.

"H-Ha-rry J-Ja-James P-Po-Potter is here to claim his Heritage," the goblin began stuttering his reply before getting a grip and finishing his statement, still visibly trembling. Harry had to wonder why the little beast was so afraid, but then, he really didn't care for the foul race.

"Harry James Potter? Really?" The expression on the stone face completely changed, going from blazing anger to morbid curiosity and crude, false amusement. "That good for nothing waste of Potter sperm actually had a brat, then? And he actually came to pay me a visit? Well, where is the lad? I'd thought the line would have died by now, what with those skirt-chasing idiots avoiding the hell out of me," the giant stone face said spitefully as he looked around for him, seemingly doing it just for the heck of it.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said, stepping into the face's line of sight, more than slightly irritated at hearing the thing badmouth whom he assumed to be his father.

"Eh?" The stone face grimaced again when Harry stepped into the light, before shooting the goblin an intense glare, not sparing Harry another glance. "Are you fucking kidding me, Goblin?" the face questioned, spitting the last word, "You telling me that that wasted piece of trash is a Potter?"

"Hey!" he yelled, stepping even closer to the face and more into the light, his face flushing in anger, "Who the bloody hell do you think you are, you mutilated pile of stones?! Of course I'm a Potter!"

The stone face swung to look at him, its eyebrows raised. "Hmm," it said, before seeming to lean further out of the wall to peer at him and his fuming expression, "Well, you do seem to have the temper, and I admit that you have the hair too, but sonny, I've been guarding this here vault for more than fifteen hundred years and there hasn't been an ugly Potter to date, and you, my waify friend, are butt ugly." It was a statement of fact, and it royally pissed him off. "Now, Goblin," the head turned again, dismissing him, and seemed to curse the entire goblin race with only one word, "I don't know what kind of stunt you're trying to pull this time, but it ain't gonna work, you greedy, insignificant piece of shi—"

"Look here," Harry hissed indignantly, his green eyes flashing as he interrupted the face's barrage on the goblin, drawing himself up as much as he could in his tattered hand-me-down clothes and taped up glasses, while ignoring the narrowed eyes now looking at him, incensed. "I don't care how much time you've been guarding that damn vault, but you're going to let me go in and see what I have left of my family! I may not look like much, but you try spending ten bloody years being starved and mistreated and see how you turn up, you pompous stack of idiotic rock! So stand aside and let me in or I'll have you blown out of that wall!" he was yelling by the end, hands fisted as his magic started pulling at his fraying clothes, just waiting for his anger to be sharp enough and focused enough to blow something up.

Preferable something big, monolithic and resembling a face.

His every word seemed to be ignored as the face's expression turned suddenly indifferent. And when its mouth opened again, its voice was completely neutral. "You say that you're a Potter, boy? And you were mistreated? How?"

Too mad to explain anything and ignoring the terrified goblin that was pulling at his sleeve frantically, he shrugged, sending the goblin tumbling. "If you bloody well don't know that, then I don't have to explain it. Now, let me into my vault you overbearing, self-important, sorry excuse for a door," he finished, half sneering the last word.

Instead of saying anything, the face simply stared at him for a good five minutes, with him not backing down one bit as he glared with everything he had. "If you are not a Potter, you do know that you will die for even approaching me, then?" Was the only thing that it asked; its voice still completely neutral.

"I don't bloody well care," Harry snapped, "so stop assuming what I am and what I'm not and just do your job. And. Open," he finished in a hiss, the sibilant quality of parseltongue coming out at the last word.

The stone face seemed to shrug, as if he were simply brushing his comments aside. "Very well, if you're so eager to die, then come closer," it instructed, "and step within that circle in front of me." The circle was carved on the floor and was just that, a simple circle, even if it was about ten feet away from the stone face; closer than the goblin had dared to approach. He stepped forward without pause and stood within the circle, still glaring, which garnered a raised eyebrow from the guardian. "Well, they selected you well, at least; it's been six hundred years since the goblins found someone whose blood matched closely enough to the Potters to not die upon stepping on that."

If anything, the face didn't sound at all impressed, and if it had possessed arms, Harry could have sworn they would be crossed as he was scrutinized. "Well, what next? Do you need my blood as proof or something?" he asked, his anger becoming a low simmer.

"Oh? You don't know what you have to do?" the face asked, a mocking tone in its booming voice, "The Goblins didn't tell you what was expected of you, then? Tsk, tsk . . . they've gotten sloppy." Amusement was slowly seeping into the guardian's voice, "And, really, blood? What do you take me for, a vampire? No boy, only brainless dark wizards use blood to seal their vaults, as if they couldn't get killed and their blood stolen."

"Then what do I have to do to get you to bloody well open up?!" he asked, more exasperated than anything by then. He just wanted to see what was left of his family, damn it! Still, at least the bloody thing was paying attention to him and not dismissing him outright. He couldn't say the comments from earlier hadn't stung, though. He knew he wasn't much to look at, but no one had ever told him so as bluntly as he'd been told now.

Still, he was severely unsettled by the smirk that developed on the guardian's face at his words, though the answer he was given stopped him short. "It's easy, lad, just drop your pants and give me your best shot. If you really are a Potter, which I doubt, then I'll grant you admittance into my chambers. However," the booming voice turned grim, "If you're not . . . " the threat of imminent death was left hanging, even as Harry tried to puzzle just what he had to do. Because, truly, maybe he'd heard wrong . . .

"Eh? Drop my pants? What do you want, for me to piss on you?" he asked, both incredulous and amused by the thought of pissing on the stupid face.

Laughter blasted out of the giant stone face. "Really boy! Didn't those useless goblins tell you anything?" the guardian asked again before he seemed to lean forward toward Harry, its face contorted into a leer. "If you piss on me you'll simply die a slower death — No, what you have to do is drop your pants, free yer willy and spank it, boy!"

Raucous, perverted laughter rolled out of the guardian again; heavy, booming, mocking. But Harry paid it no attention, too startled to react in any other way, "You want me to what?!" he finally exclaimed, dumbfounded, a flush spreading rapidly across his face as he registered what was being asked of him to open a bloody vault!

The face seemed to shake itself at his question, sceptical, even as it shot a measuring look at the still cowering goblin, before he turned to face Harry, a teasing smile spreading across its oversized features, "You heard me, lad, release the beast, round the tadpoles and discharge the pearl jam in my direction!" he answered smoothly, "come on, don't be shy now."

"Y-You want me t—to—to. . ." he paused, taking a deep shuddering breath, his face as red as a tomato, before asking the face in a loud whisper, gesturing somewhat discreetly, "Wank? Here?" He looked around, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was in the middle of a Gringotts tunnel, no matter how deep and out of the way! What if another cart came down? And what about the goblin watching even while cowering in the corner?

"Ho~! Aren't you a sharp one, boy! Yes, exactly that, now come on, drop 'em and clean your pipes, else, you won't be getting into this vault, and that is if you are a Potter." Well, he was at least getting the benefit of the doubt, now. But still, he had to wank in front of the bloody guardian to prove that he was a Potter? What the hell kind of whacko made this stuff up? In fact, just odd couldn't quite describe this, he was sure.

"And how will that open the vault, then?" he asked, wanting to see if there was a way around it, though he knew it was more a stalling tactic than anything else. He had to pull himself together, damnit!

"Simple, lad," the face answered lazily, as if he already knew he would balk, probably proving that he wasn't a Potter at all, "While blood can be stolen, fingerprints faked and a magical signature reproduced, there is no way for anyone to replicate sperm, especially those of your family, and since they are all little Potters in the making, they can't be mistaken either, got it? Good. So drop your trousers and squeeze the cream from your flesh Twinkie — and make it fast for fuck's sake, I'm getting tired of this!"

Harry could only huff. It made a kind of strange, if perverted, sense, and seeing how one actually had to whack off in front of the guardian, the thing couldn't be faked. Really, this close the guardian could probably detect any enchantments as well. It had already stated that it knew if his blood matched with the Potters by just stepping into the circle, after all.

If anything, it seemed the Guardian was made with very complicated magic, and truly, whatever was in the vault that would need such protection must be pretty important for his family to go to such lengths to protect it. Just what would he find in there? As things stood, there was only one way to find out, it seemed.

Coming to this conclusion and seeing the expectant and impatient face of the Guardian, Harry sighed, having a good look around before zipping down his trousers and taking his considerably sized cock out into the breezy tunnel. He felt so naughty doing it, but it was strangely exhilarating. "Well, that looks about right too," the big face stated thoughtfully, making him jump. He froze when he noticed the guardian eying his bits a bit too intensely before looking up to meet his eyes, the impatient, mocking glint in them gone and replaced with neutrality once more. Still, a moment or two passed and he still remained frozen in place, his hand around his flaccid dick, now embarrassingly aware of his audience, including the cowering goblin. "Well?" the guardian snapped him out of it, "are you holding your sausage hostage, or are you going to start the five knuckle shuffle?"

Blushing brightly, Harry began to stroke himself frantically, ignoring the sounds of disapproval coming from the Guardian even as he closed his eyes tightly and brought up one of his most intense fantasies to the forefront of his mind. He wasn't even at full mast when he shot his load, and though slightly out of breath, he wasn't really affected by it. It was one of those things that made him different from his year mates, though they didn't know about it. They just thought he had a big dick; they didn't really know of its rather diverse cumming capabilities. However, he'd done what he was asked, so he tucked himself in quickly and zipped himself up before meeting the disappointed gaze of the guardian. "What now?"

"When I told you to make it fast, I didn't mean to only make a half arsed attempt at it, brat! Look, it didn't even reach half way! If you're really a Potter, what kind of Potter are you that you can't even shoot ten feet in front of you? That was pathetic! Ten feet is the minimum a Potter should be able to reach! Come on, try again." And was it him, or was the guardian actually encouraging him? "Well, boy, what are you waiting for, an invitation? And why did you put your dick away? Take it out and pet that one-eyed snake!"

Of all the bloody— Argh! When he died he was searching each and every one of his ancestors and strangling the lot of them to death! Slightly pissed now, he yanked down his trousers so they rested around his ankles and took a deep breath while taking himself in hand, stroking slowly until he was completely hard this time. He ignored the few comments made by the stone face, who had whistled when his pants went down.

"Well, well, well, going commando eh? That sure brings back memories! And you certainly have the Potter Balls; right big and plump pair you have there, lad, you should be right proud of them. Still, if you turn out to be a Potter, then we'll have to get you up to scrap, you're frightfully thin . . ."

Harry ignored it, though the thought that he had something more in common with his family helped him relax, even if he still wanted to kill the lot of them and even if the only other thing he had in common with them was his abnormally large scrotum. He tuned the guardian's commentary out; the bloody thing wanted a good cumshot? Well, by Merlin, he was going to get it!

Bracing his legs while relaxing his muscles, he pulled and twisted his cock slowly, swiping at the head with his fingers as he stroked the long, thick shaft. His strokes were slow and deliberate, going from the very base to the head and twisting his palm around as he reversed his hold and stroked from head to base. It was a tricky manoeuvre that required some rather flexible wrists, but he had been blessed with those as well, thankfully. He twisted his hand this way and that, sometimes twisting the skin as well to add a bit of that pleasurable ache into the friction.

A moment later, he switched hands, seeing he was wankbidextrous; able to jerk off with either hand. While one hand was occupied with his dick, the other would be massaging his balls, pulling and cupping them both gently and roughly, in rhythm with his strokes.

He could already feel the pressure slowly building, and the soft appreciative murmurs from the Guardian were pretty hot too. Not to mention the feeling of adventure and danger he felt from whacking off in front of others, be they simply animated or a magical creature; it was both naughty and enticing, and Harry briefly wondered if maybe he was a bit of an exhibitionist.

His breathing was a bit more pronounced, but not laboured, and he upped the speed of his strokes from time to time, spicing things up a bit as his idle hand disappeared under his shirt to play with the skin of his stomach and chest, pinching a nipple from time to time.

He felt his balls begin to slowly rise, as if it were a particularly slow elevator, and the pressure became more and more pronounced; his breathing a bit heavier even as his heart started picking up speed, its steady thumping loud in his ears as the drafty tunnel's wind brushed against his heated flesh. His lips were parted and his pupils wide, his mind blank as he stimulated his body into release in a way that made it look as if it were an instrument that he was playing masterfully.

And when he felt he would burst, he took a deep breath and stopped, his hand tightening almost painfully around his swollen cock.

Opening his eyes, he smirked at the sight of the drooling guardian and the passed out goblin and asked, "You asked me what kind of Potter I was, right? That a Potter should be able to shoot these ten feet without a problem, right?" and when the Guardian gave him a dazed nod, eyes completely focused on his almost bursting cock and rising sac, he told him, "Well, this is the kind of Potter I am!"

And with that, he rocked his hips and pumped his hand frantically, not losing any balance, and still finding a way to look graceful while he kept squeezing his cock with both hands, his big balls rising rapidly, until suddenly, and with a lustful cry, a gigantic spurt of thick, ropy cum, shooting straight as an arrow and without spilling on the floor, hit the guardians face. A second later, another, even faster cumshot spilled forth and Harry continued his rapid stroking, milking himself for all he was worth as shot after shot of hot spunk hit the shocked guardian in the face.

His cheeks flushed and his eyes bright, Harry slowed down his pace even as his balls relaxed, immensely satisfied with the creamy streams of cum covering almost the whole gigantic stone face. "Well, how was that then?" he asked, his voice slightly cocky. It had been a long time since he'd been able to shoot that much at once; he was never alone for long enough to do it, even as he kept stroking himself. He was still hard after all, "or do you need more?" he asked, yanking slightly at his leaking member while he brought one of his hands to his face and began to lick it clean.

His last question seemed to snap the Guardian of his family vault into action, and in a move that surprised Harry, the stone face gave a deep hum as a long tongue came out and removed all of his spunk from its face in one smooth lick, before swallowing and closing its eyes, its humming reaching new levels, even as happiness seemed to seep into its expression, "Dear Merlin!" it exclaimed, its face seeming to lean eagerly forward, "You really are a Potter! Bless you, dear child! I thought I would never be able to meet you! Welcome to your vault, Master!"

The next thing he knew, the stone mouth opened once more and a long tongue darted out and encircled him, rolling him within it as he was pulled toward the stone face, his hand still grasping his straining erection.

But honestly, he really didn't care that much about it at the moment, since an instant later he was within the guardian's mouth, surprised by how warm and comfortable he felt even as he was licked from top to bottom and jostled comfortably around in that cavernous orifice. He felt like candy wrapped in colourful foil as all of his clothes were removed deftly, leaving him only with his glasses on before he was swallowed down a warm, spongy tunnel, feet first.

For whatever reason, he didn't feel at all in danger, and in fact he rather enjoyed the whole process. The trip down took longer than he would have expected, but the feel of the smooth, squishy, if somewhat constricting, surface as he slid down was extremely pleasurable, and he came rather violently a quarter of the way down, already more than turned on, not to mention highly stimulated by the licking that he had received, which had paid great attention to his throbbing member.

He decided, even as he came a second time half way down the trip, his body completely relaxed and more satisfied then he'd ever felt before, that he would give his family the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least. It might just be they were a bunch of kinky bastards, but if that was the case, at least he now knew where he got it from, making him feel as if he truly belonged; as if he had found his roots at last.

He didn't know what to expect, true, but he was looking forward to it nonetheless. His heritage, after all, awaited him.


Bobby, for that was his name, had never been happier to be proven wrong, even as he felt the giddy excitement coming off from the new Master Potter as he made his way down into the vaults.

The boy was too skinny, though, and he frowned as he spit the horrible excuse for clothes his new master had been wearing, keeping only the wand, vault key and money pouch. It was shameful attire, but then, he didn't know the circumstances surrounding the last of the Potters. Oh, he'd known there was one still remaining from the family he had been made to serve and protect, but he didn't know who it was and there had been too many attempts by the goblins and others to breech him for him not to be doubtful of everyone brought before him.

Now, though, he hummed happily as his master came once again on his way down. It tasted magnificent, and truly, nothing tasted better in his opinion.

But he turned his thoughts outward a moment later. The young master would need all of the help he was able to provide, and that would take quite a bit of time, two weeks at least. So he looked over at the goblin and waited until the filthy creature regained consciousness. "I have a new Master, Goblin, and so, from this day forward, all contracts the Potter Family upholds have become valid once more! Now, get out of my sight! Master Potter will call for you when he resurfaces from within my chambers."

And with that note of finality, he melted into the wall, leaving it smooth once again, the only trace left of Harry Potter being a pair of too-large brown trousers which were horribly worn, a frayed and almost translucent shirt and two scruffy trainers that had a number of holes in them. There was no belt, only a length of rope, and no socks or underwear, for the goblin knew, even as he felt extremely inadequate because of it, that Harry Potter didn't wear any undergarments.

For now, though, he needed to report on this, for the Potter Family, the wealthiest and most previously influential, though odd, Family in the world, both wizard and muggle alike, would awaken completely for the first time in seventy-five years.

They would need to prepare, if nothing else. He could only hope they were ready to weather that particular storm.




Pickled Brains: What did I say, strange, right? And you can't imagine what my perverted mind is coming up with for the rest of this story! Because, believe it or not, this story does have a plot, even if it starts with a spiced up version of that secret family vault cliché!

I hope someone, somewhere out there, enjoyed it, and if you did; well, leave me a review to let me know, okay?