A/N: Here it is: the re-edited version of chapter one. I really think this sets up a much more cohesive and interesting story. So, a few of the most notable changes:

Looking back, there are enough Lunar Harmony stories on this site. So I've decided to change the pairings up a little. Er, a lot, actually. Harry won't have a thirty person harem or anything, but he will have a number of relationships drawn out over a period of time.

This is going to be a Super!Harry story, mostly because I'd like to see exactly what I can come up with involving a Harry who controls Death and doesn't need to worry about pesky things like "mortality" or "the laws of physics".

And since pretty much everyone complained about Death's voice, I changed it to bold text. Stop nagging me about it.

So, the wiki says that one galleon is equal to £4.97, but that just throws sooooo much stuff off I've decided to have the exchange rate be one sickle equal to one pound-sterling, so a galleon will be £17. Just imagine a sickle weighs a pound's worth of silver.

G=Galleon, S=Sickle, k=Knut

Okay, that about wraps it up. So please, enjoy the re-edited first chapter of Master of Death's Second Chance!

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, or there would have been a number of wild brown-haired children with emerald green eyes in the epilogue.

"Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognize that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor Master of Death."

-Xenophilius Lovegood

"Avada Kedavra!"

As the viridian beam of light from Voldemort's killing curse struck Harry's chest, he felt nothing but a light sense of peace as he fell to the forest floor, his vision dimming around the edges. He had done it. Voldemort's Horcrux was gone, and now the rest had the real chance to finish the Dark Wanker once and for all. As he felt his life slowly ebb from his body, Harry couldn't help but reflect on the life he had left behind.

'Will everyone else make it? Did I give them enough help to finally end this? Will my parents be proud of me? My friends? And what about Ginny?'

Images of the redheaded girl filled his mind, even though he had called off their relationship months ago to try and protect her from Voldemort's wrath. But Harry had seen her fighting in the battle, alongside Luna. She was feisty, one of the many things he loved about her. He had been thinking about her ever since he got back to Hogwarts to find Ravenclaw's Diadem. Funnily enough, he hadn't really given her a thought the previous few months. He had even forgotten about her completely when Ron had abandoned him and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt. But seeing her again must have brought back the feelings, because she had been on his mind persistently since then.

Finally, after what felt like hours, when his body felt weightless and numb, Harry's back struck the ground, and the last semblance of life left his eyes.

Harry Potter was dead.

"You just had to be an idiot, didn't you?" A deep voice asked into the silence. Harry let his closed eyes scrunch tighter in confusion. He hadn't expected to be insulted the moment he stepped into the afterlife. Okay, maybe a little from Sirius, but that wasn't Sirius' voice. It was too deep, and theatrical.

"I will only ever have one Master, in all of creation, and he's a complete and utter moron. Perfect." The voice sighed deeply. "Get up, get up, no use dirtying my floor for no reason, then. I just dusted Monday before last."

Harry opened his eyes to find himself, not in front of the Pearly Gates, or the fires of Hell, or the Underworld or Asgard or any of the conventional afterlives people wrote about. Instead, he was in a rather cozy sitting room. He was lying on a dark hardwood floor next to a chair. A fireplace made of black marble held a crackling flame, giving off a comfortable warmth. The walls were done in a deep navy blue, almost black, wallpaper. A golden chandelier with a dozen candles hung above him, casting a good amount of light into the room. Two large recliners were facing the fire, a small table set between them. The chairs were done in black velvet, with elegant white lace doilies set on the arms. The table had a black stone top, sitting on cast-iron legs carved into scythes in an "X", the crossed blades supporting the tabletop. A silver tea tray rested on the table, along with a white porcelain teapot, two cups, and a platter of sandwiches. Rising to settle into the chair closest to him, Harry noticed the other was taken.

A tall man, at least Harry assumed it was a man from his voice, was sitting comfortably in the plush chair. A long, tattered black cloak, akin to the ones worn by dementors, was worn over worn-out charcoal grey robes that covered a slim frame. One leg was crossed nonchalantly across the other. Harry couldn't see his face, as the stranger was holding a copy of the Prophet in front of his head. He reached over and flipped a page of the newspaper, still keeping his face covered.

"A while ago, before all the ruddy business with the war, there were these entertaining little cartoons on page nine. They had animation charms on them, and acted out scenes from jokes and stories. But, with how the world has gone to pot and Britain is about to become the new poster country for pureblood bigotry they'll most likely all become political. Damn bloody politics, should have done away with it ages ago."

"Wait- who are you? Where am I? And, what do you mean, that bit about the purebloods?" Harry finally managed to choke out.

"Well, as used to it as I am, I still hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I'll be blunt with you, Harry. With your stupid sacrifice in the forest back there, you've pretty much doomed England. Oh, the defenders of Hogwarts will win, and Riddle will be slain, don't worry. But without you there in the last charge people lose a lot of hope, and many die that would otherwise have prevailed.

After the war, the surviving Death Eaters and sympathizers bribe and swindle and steal their way back into power, and nothing changes whatsoever. In fact, things get worse. The pureblood bigots pass through laws turning muggleborn into second class citizens, little better than slaves. The rights of magical creatures are trampled into nothing, and many are hunted for sport. Luckily most everyone sees the writing on the wall and flees Britain for the continent or the colonies. Within the span of a few decades, any muggleborn are taken from their parents and raised to serve the purebloods as soon as they enter Hogwarts. Halfbloods born to true muggles are considered abominations and treated like the muggleborn.

After thirty years the ICW finally intervenes and sends in teams to liberate the muggleborn and halfbloods and many purebloods are killed in the streets. Within a half-century a group of muggleborn will lead a bloody revolution and slaughter any purebloods they find, and the Magical community of Britain crumbles. People the world over cheer for it by then."

"No, but, we defeated Voldemort! Things should have gotten better without him egging them on, right?" Harry pleaded, feeling nauseous.

"You think that just because Riddle perishes his ideas follow him? Ha! Hitler died years and years ago, yet young men with shaved heads still goosestep in the streets of London. Ideas do not die, and the purebloods will cling like a drowning man to the ideals that keep them in power."

"I… I guess. So, where am I?" Harry managed to choke out, sickened by the thought that the war, and therefore all the lives lost, might have been for nothing.

"You, young Harry, are currently enjoying my hospitality in my parlour while I explain to you how your decisions in life prove just how big of an idiot you were."

"Hey! Don't call me an idiot! I destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes, didn't I? Who are you to call me an idiot?"

The stranger finally closed the Prophet, folded the paper in his lap and turned to face Harry. A faded gray skull with empty sockets full of shadows in lieu of eyes stared at him from underneath a black hood, and a set of perfectly straight, if somewhat dull, teeth grinned a skeletal grin. The grim spectre slowly stood, and with the sound of tearing cloth a pair of skeletal bat wings ripped out of the back of his robes. He raised his right hand, and with the sound of stone grinding on steel, a long crooked scythe appeared in his hand. At his full height the stranger stood just over seven feet tall, the curved blade of the weapon stooping over his head.

"I am Azrael, Thanatos, Anubis, Hel, Kālī, the Coyote, the Boogeyman, the Reaper most Grim. I, my dear boy, am Death."

"Oh." Harry kept his eyes on the dark figure of Death while trying to quietly search his pockets for his wand. After a few hurried moments of searching, Harry let out an involuntary groan; he had let his wand fall from his fingers when Voldemort killed him.

"So I really am dead, then?"

"You walked in front of a killing curse without even closing your robes. What do you think?"

"Okay, maybe a stupid question. But what am I doing here? If I'm dead, shouldn't I go to the 'next great adventure', as Dumbledore always called it?"

Death growled, a sound like broken bottles being ground underneath a wobbly door.

"Don't mention that old bastard in front of me! He's one of the reasons we are where we are right now. Look at what Dumbledore got as his 'next great adventure'."

Death swung his scythe faster than Harry could even follow, tearing a long strip of crackling blue energy in the air. Death gestured his bony hand for Harry to look inside, and his natural curiosity took over. Glancing into the wormhole, Harry's face lost all its color, and he fell backwards into his chair, gagging. A bucket formed in his lap, and he didn't have time to thank Death before it was full. When he could breathe again, Harry looked at Death in horror.

"What the hell are the clowns for? And all the rabid goats? I think I saw sentient lemon drops with spears. And, and did I see a shark wearing a toupee?"

Death nodded, "Well, actually it was a porpoise, but yes. That raw, chaotic maelstrom of torment was the personal Hell of one Albus Dumbledore. Personally, after all he's done to the world, and you in particular, he deserves far, FAR worse."

Harry managed to resettle himself after seeing where the old wizard ended up. "What do you mean, he's never done anything terrible to me. Has he?"

"Hmmm, it seems that all those mental blocks and Obliviations are still active. Well, you just sit right there, and I'll explain the epic clusterfuck that has been your life, okay? Stop me when I get to a part you've heard before."

Before Harry could respond Death pulled a loosely rolled scroll from inside his cloak before perching a small pair of golden nose hugger spectacles before his eye sockets. How they stuck there with no nose to cling to was a mystery.

"Let's start at the beginning of all this trouble; in 1937 then Deputy Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was sent to deliver a Hogwarts letter to a young Tom Riddle. After hearing how the boy, obviously disturbed, used his magic, how did he react? He did nothing. He ignored the child, dismissing him as nothing more than a muggleborn tormenting other muggles, so it wasn't any of his concern."

"Oh that hypocritical old goat-fucker!"

"Quite. His father rubbed off on him, it seems. He observed Tom during his school years, watching as he was tormented in Slytherin in the beginning for being a supposed muggleborn. He wasn't fully aware, but he had some suspicions, that Riddle was being… 'visited' by some of his older housemates at night. All of these signs, ignored by Dumbledore, led to a brilliant young man becoming the murderous sociopath known as Voldemort. Fast-forward a few years, after defeating his ex-lover Grindelwald, which he only did because he managed to claim MY wand, Dumbledore was a living legend to the people of Magical Europe."

"I thought he was world famous for that?" Harry interrupted, surprised and infuriated all at once. "Grindelwald was the worst Dark Lord in centuries."

"No, not at all. Gellert was the worst Dark Lord in centuries in Europe. There have been far worse in Africa and Australia, there's a new Dark Lord popping up every other decade in America who could snap Grindelwald like a toothpick, and while Asian Dark Lords are uncommon, they usually manage to be the most powerful magic users of their generation and usually require armies of battle-mages to take them down. Anyway, after becoming the most famous wizard in Europe Dumbledore had the ability to change the laws and policies that led to the war reaching Britain, mainly the unfair advantages purebloods had. Many muggleborns actually supported Grindelwald because he offered them better treatment; all wizards were the same to him, and it was muggles he hated. But I digress; after the war Dumbledore did nothing to even out the playing field for the non-purebloods. In fact, he passed a few laws making things worse. By the time Voldemort came around the tension between purebloods and non-purebloods was intense. He played chess with peoples' lives, allowing certain people to die in order to gain allies or to claim the powers of families that died out. He was all set to let Voldemort wreak havoc on the muggles and on most of magical England before taking him out. But then my oh so wonderful brother had to butt in."

"You have a brother?" Harry was stunned; how could Death have a brother?

"I have two brothers and a sister," Death remarked off-handedly. "In this instance it was my brother Fate. He spoke into the void, and his words became prophecy, to pass from the mouth of a seer. Only in this case they came from the drunken mouth of a half-baked psychic who was currently in front of the worst person to hear the prophecy: Albus Dumbledore.

After the prophecy was spoken, Albus caught a young Death Eater named Severus Snape who had been listening outside the door the whole time. Seeing an opportunity to set the prophecy in motion he Obliviated the second half of the prophecy from Snape's mind and set a strong compulsion to spy for him. He then set up the defenses of the two couples in his Order who matched the description of the prophecy, and leaked the information to Voldemort. After discovering that Pettigrew was a Death Eater, Albus wiped the memory of his discovery, and then used a few compulsion charms to influence the switch in Secret Keepers, which directly led to the events of Halloween 1981.

After you deflected Voldemort's killing curse through a combination of your mother's magic and my brother's prophecy, Hagrid appeared to gather you on Dumbledore's orders. He took you to Hogwarts where Dumbledore confirmed that you had a Horcrux in your scar. He then dropped you off at the Dursley's, which went against the express wishes of your parents' wills, which he signed as a witness. You were supposed to go to Sirius, obviously, but if he was unavailable then you would have gone to any number of people; Remus Lupin, who actually would have been your godfather if not for Britain's laws against 'dark creatures'; the Longbottoms, since Frank was your father's Auror partner; Minerva McGonagall, who was actually James' godmother; then the Bones family, since it was just thanks to Lily threatening divorce that kept you from being betrothed to Susan Bones; Andromeda Tonks, who was a distant cousin of James on his mother Dorea's side; and last but not least the Flamels."

"Wait, the Flamels? As in Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel? Why would I have gone to them?" Harry interrupted, trying not to think about the fact that he was apparently very close to having been forced to marry a virtual stranger.

"In the late 1600's, Lord Byron Hobson Potter II found two weary and exhausted travelers on his doorstep; he took them in and cared for them, until they were well enough to introduce themselves as Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. The alchemist had accidentally destroyed the Philosopher's Stone in an attempt to increase its potency, and they were out of the Elixir of Life and only a few short weeks from death. Byron granted them all of his resources to help recreate the stone, and they nearly emptied the Potter vaults and destroyed a few properties in the process. But Lord Potter helped them through it all, even when his wife left him and his family shunned him for wasting the family fortune. But his compassion and faith was rewarded when they created another stone and paid him back tenfold. Ever since there has been a strong alliance between the families of Potter and Flamel.

Sorry, went off on a tangent there. Anyway, after kidnapping you Dumbledore placed a number of highly illegal and borderline Dark power blocks on you, binding around 85% of your magic, knocking off about 50 IQ points and slowly atrophying your muscles, undermining any attempts to increase your physical strength and keeping you small and scrawny. He made sure that Sirius wasn't given a trial, knowing you would go to him as both your godfather and Lord of your grandmother's house. While your 'relatives' were beating you black and bloody Dumbledore sealed your parents' wills and claimed guardianship of you, proceeding to then clean out your vaults, stealing a number of powerful artifacts, selling off your properties and draining over 300 million galleons from your vaults, which is £5.1 Billion by the way, leaving barely enough for school. He also destroyed two paintings of your parents, which were also stored in the vault. Most of this money was spent paying off his co-conspirators and political allies, paying bribes and funding his side projects, the few remainders going into his own pockets."

"Oh my god." Harry muttered, clutching his head tightly between his hands. How could Dumbledore do this? He trusted the man, he cared about him. Hell, he loved him like a grandfather, and this is how he treated him behind his back all these years? Harry stood and took the bucket from his lap and walked over to the wormhole, before dumping the contents into it. He also chucked in the bucket for good measure, watching as the portal sealed shut with a "pop!"

"You fucking rat bastard! I hope you never get out of there! It's just the sort of 'great adventure' you deserve!"

"Feel better?"

"A little, actually."

"Unfortunately, throughout all of this Albus truly believed what he was doing was for 'The Greater Good' of wizarding kind. It just so happened that his idea of 'The Greater Good' was a world where he ruled over everything as a dictator. This of course reveals that Dumbledore is possibly the most dangerous of tyrants: one who believes himself on the path of the righteous, and has the full backing of his own conscience. After a decade at the Dursley's you were a weak and malleable young boy, easily deceived and manipulated. You fell into the Weasley trap without a moment's hesitation."

"No, not the Weasleys? They were in on it too?"

"Some of them. Dumbledore paid off Molly to act motherly towards you, which took a lot of self-control on her part, since the Prewitt family have hated the Potters for centuries. Percy was also paid off to act like a pompous git to you in order to instill a dislike of the Ministry. Ronald was paid to befriend you and to keep you alone and lazy. Arthur knew of part of the plan, but not the sinister portions; he thought that Dumbledore just wanted a wizarding family to keep an eye on you and was paying them as a thank you. All of this money came from your vaults, by the by. Charlie knew nothing, and Bill had a small compulsion put on him to distract Miss Fleur Delacour from you, since her father had connections in the French Ministry and could have interfered in his plans; she also had a small crush on you following the Second Task, and he didn't want anyone not in his camp near you. The twins discovered the plot repeatedly through their eavesdropping, and were Obliviated constantly. Ginny, the poor girl, has been brainwashed and love-potioned since she was about ten. She was read the "Harry Potter" stories as bedtime stories, like most magical children, and had a crush on you, like most magical girls did as children. But her crush would have faded and she would have become a good friend and a strong ally, she actually has a very strong core. But she was forced into being obsessed with you, which destroyed Fate's design, since she already had a soul-mate planned out for her."

"Out of pure curiosity, who was it?" Harry carefully picked up a sandwich, and nibbled it to distract himself. It was surprisingly tasty, though a little dry.

"The blond girl in your year, something Brown. Lavender? Yes, that's it, Lavender Brown."

"Ginny… was supposed to end up with Lavender Brown?"

"Yes, they were going to end up together, marrying at 22 and 23, respectively. Ginny would become the seeker for the Holyhead Harpies, which Lavender didn't care for since Gwenog Jones kept hitting on her, and Lavender would become the lead writer for Teen Witch Weekly. But due to the love potions that wouldn't come to be. Speaking of love potions, Ronald has been steadily dosing Miss Granger since fourth year, and has been slipping you Ginny based potions since fifth year."

"What!? Send me back, I'm gonna kill him! I'll rip his sneaky, backstabbing head off and shove it up his arse!"

"It's too late now. Since they all knew you were supposed to die, he slipped her a massive dose mixed with a Dark subjugation potion, outlawed by the ICW, which completely stripped her of her free will. I assume you can guess what a boy like Ronald would do with power like that?"

"Why are you telling me all this? Some sort of punishment? A grand payback for being such an idiot?" Harry muttered, slumping into his seat, tears threatening to spill for his friend.

"I am telling you this to point out what should have happened, and what could have been your life.

First Year, you should have asked the Goblins to emancipate you as Lord Potter, which would have granted you freedom. The subsequent audit of your vaults would have revealed Dumbledore's plots, seeing all of your possessions returned and monies refunded. The blood test would have revealed the blocks and Horcrux, both of which would be removed. The goblins would then work on a hunch and end up destroying all of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Ignoring that, you should have ended up in Ravenclaw, and befriended Miss Granger, Miss Patil, Mr. Boot, Miss McDougal, etc. The Stone should not have been in a school full of children at all, but the traps were sufficient before Dumbledore ruined them.

Second Year, the Chamber of Secrets fiasco was all Lucius' fault, though Albus jumped on it to distance you from the school. He did nothing to dispel the rumors surrounding you, and forced the professors to do nothing as well. He knew full well where the chamber was, but did nothing, hoping to toughen you up.

Third Year should never have happened, seeing as Sirius was innocent, but Dumbledore allowed the events to occur in order to gain your favor. The reason the dementors were so obsessed with you is that they wanted to suck out the fragment of Voldemort's soul.

Fourth Year… Fourth Year was a bloody disaster. Dumbledore was aware the whole time that Moody was being impersonated by Crouch, but he used it to his advantage in order to have the entire school ostracize you. The ruling of the Goblet could have been overturned by a simple majority vote of the judges, though neither Dumbledore nor the Imperiused Crouch would have done so. And since you didn't enter yourself in the competition, if you had failed to compete it would have been Barty Jr. who lost his magic. By telling you to compete they were also acknowledging you as an adult, another chance to become emancipated. He also forbid the professors from interfering with the blatant torment you were receiving from the rest of the school, going so far as to set heavy compulsion charms on Minerva. And the Yule Ball… Good God, such wasted potential there."

"What do you mean? I thought it went okay."

"Let me tell you a little secret about Instruments of Destiny, Harry. Instruments of Destiny are people, like you, who have one or two critical, specific goals in life. You, for example, have to kill Voldemort. That is your purpose. No matter what you do in your life you will end up destroying him; it's unavoidable. Other than that, your destiny is an open book, you can do whatever you want with it. Fate doesn't care what else you do; marry twelve witches, take over England, kill everyone who ever slighted you, become a healer, discover a new species, level Europe with fire and death, drown yourself in wine and whores. It doesn't matter- as long as you complete your specific destiny the rest of your life is a blank page in an open book. Usually this is a good thing, letting heroes and prodigies plot their own course to their goals. Unfortunately, since you were placed on the road to your destiny so young you had no control over it, and therefore it was able to be formed into whatever the meddling old bastard wanted. And by including you, who has no set destiny, it knocked the destinies of others off course. The actions of the Instruments can change Fate's plans for everyone and anyone, which is why though there were numerous things that could have happened, maybe even should have happened, none of them had to happen. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I think I get it," Harry nodded slowly, wrapping his mind around the idea. "But what does that have to do with the Yule Ball?"

"Crap, sorry, tangent again. I don't get the chance to talk much, so I enjoy it while I can. Anyway, as a literal embodiment of choice and free will, you could have literally chosen anyone to go with you to the Yule Ball, and changed the outcome thereof to a more pleasant evening. Staying with your original date, for example, you could have been a gentleman and kept Parvati happy, then seeing Padma annoyed with Ronald you danced with her as well, then chance and circumstance happen and you're back in Gryffindor Tower learning that twins who have both read the Kama Sutra are wonderful, wonderful things. Or you could have asked your best friend Miss Granger, and discovered you were hiding deep, unresolved feelings that only came to the surface after a magical kiss under the mistletoe, declaring a soul searing love for each other to last the ages. Maybe you could have taken Luna and spent a wonderful evening getting to know her earlier than before and finding her to be a delightful young woman, who then pulled you out from under a nargle infested mistletoe and proceeded to ward them off by trying to suck your tonsils out. You could have found quite a bit of happiness, possibly love, but you squandered it."

Harry's cheeks were still scarlet and his eyes were glassy as he tried very hard to stop thinking about Parvati and Padma Patil, two of the most attractive witches in his year, doing things to him that would make even Sirius blush. But he did understand what Death was talking about; he had let Ron's stupid jealousy and laziness cloud his chances at the Ball. He had only waited so long to find a date because he didn't want his fragile friendship to be destroyed by Ron's jealousy.

Harry remembered that Fay Dunbar, a pretty Gryffindor in his year, had asked to go with him, Harry Potter the nice guy, not Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived, but it was the same day that Ron had been turned down by Fleur and he didn't want to ignite his jealousy by rubbing it in his face that he had a date. He had used Parvati as an excuse, since she and Padma were identical he felt Ron would have no reason to be jealous, but he had just been jealous about Hermione and Krum instead.

"Where was I? Right, Fourth Year. After discovering the plot to resurrect Voldemort using your blood Dumbledore decided to use it to his advantage; this would create a stronger bond between the two of you, and as he fully expected you to go mad during the whole ordeal he would have used you like a comatose crystal ball to direct his actions. But you stayed sane, and derailed his plans for that. He decided to simply make you miserable by keeping your friends from writing over the summer, and then allowing the dementors through, which could have been kept out by the blood wards if he hadn't keyed them in."

"Why? Why would Dumbledore do this?"

"Because he wanted to be famous, he wanted the glory and adoration of the masses for defeating two Dark Lords, which is hard to do even with the weaker Dark Lords Europe tends to produce. Personally I think it's due to the relatively small gene pool that tend to remain stable around the European coasts, as opposed to the larger mixes found elsewhere. His plans to use the fame of conquering two Dark Lords was ruined when he put on the Horcrux ring and sealed his fate. But the old bastard set up a series of plans in order to get you to die, which would make you a martyr, and he would be remembered as your mentor. The biggest lie of those he told you was that you had to die in order to destroy the piece of soul in your scar. Followed closely by "you can't tell anyone about them". Did you know that the Unspeakables devised a spell years ago that can separate soul pieces from containers? Or that dementors can kiss soul pieces free? Or that goblins hate Horcruxes, or 'Soul Jars' as they call them, with a fiery passion and would do anything in order to eliminate them all? Any of these groups could have removed the Horcruxes' soul bits without destroying incredibly powerful magical artifacts in the process. Once you were dead, Dumbledore's allies would have released a fake will he wrote for you, leaving everything to the Order, the Weasleys and the remaining politicians in Dumbledore's camps. Nothing for your godson, your friends, nothing!

You know what? You get the gist of it, going through years 5 through 7 would just be redundant at this point. Now, before you die again of depression there is a reason I'm telling you all of this."

"To torment me with the knowledge my whole life has been a lie, and that I'm condemning the people I sought to save to a hellish existence? So many of them died in the last battle… so many."

"No, though stop the self-loathing crap, it's annoying. I'm telling you all of this so you can have a second chance."

Death tucked the scroll and glasses back in his cloak and stood and approached the now crying Harry. He grasped his shoulders far more gently than Harry thought possible and lifted the boy to his feet. Death reached into thin air and pulled free what looked like liquid glass woven into a solid form. Wrapping the garment around Harry's shoulders, he recognized the silky feel of his Invisibility Cloak. But instead of vanishing, the cloak stayed silvery clear wrapped around Harry. Death fiddled with his bony fingers for a moment before pulling loose a thick gold band with a large black stone set into the center free. The crack was gone now, and the symbol of the Deathly Hallows stood proud and clear on the Resurrection Stone. Death slipped the ring onto Harry's right ring finger, where it fit snugly. Finally Death reached into his cloak and pulled free a long, dark wand. The wand was knobby, with a few small bulging knots every few inches, forming a natural grip from the bottom three knots. Wrapping Harry's fingers around the Elder Wand, Harry felt the same flush of magic he felt when he received his first wand, though a hundred times stronger.

"Why… why are you giving these to me?"

"Due to a highly unlikely and convoluted series of coincidences, reminiscent of either a terrible, hack writer or a poorly planned plot with a rushed deadline, you became the Master of the Hallows."

"How? I've never even held the Elder Wand, and I left the Stone in the forest." Harry argued, looking at the two Hallows in question.

"When Draco faced Dumbledore, what happened right before Snape killed him? Draco disarmed him. This made Draco the master of the Elder Wand, even though it was Snape that killed him. When you disarmed Draco you earned the allegiance of his wand, correct?"

"Yeah, Ollivander said I had 'proven myself to it'."

"And in doing so, you claimed the Elder Wand as yours as well."

"That… makes absolutely no sense at all. I mean, that's just lazy. It's like someone was writing a story and had no idea how to end it and jumped on the first idea to pop in their head to end it the way they wanted."

"My thoughts exactly, someone definitely dropped the ball on that one. But regardless of how it happened, it happened. Though I regret making those damn things, I did make them, and now you are the Master of the Deathly Hallows. My… master."

Death spat the word 'master' as if it was poison.

"And, to be honest… I pity you. Your life was so twisted out of whack I decided to use this opportunity to give you a second chance. A chance to start over, a chance to change your future, where Voldemort is slain pitiful and alone, where your friends and family survive and thrive, and you claim the life you truly deserve."

Harry sat for a moment, letting the impossibility of the situation wash over him, before he hesitantly asked, "how? Time travel? I thought that was impossible."

Death looked away, as if annoyed at the question.

"It is, unfortunately, impossible. Even for me. But being what I am I can exist simultaneously in all dimensions, and due to your bond with me I can take you with me to another one."

"What do you mean 'all dimensions'?"

"Have you ever heard of the multiverse theory? Actually don't bother answering that, you wasted your mind on Quidditch and being a whiny little bitch during most of your school career, of course you don't know. The multiverse theory, well it's actually a fact but that's irrelevant, states that there are an infinite amount of parallel universes that are different from each other in some way. In some it might be a small difference like you might be left handed, or in some you might be named Charlus James Potter after your grandfather. But then there are some where you're born a girl, or Voldemort kills himself with a poisoned raisin-bran muffin, or you're in a sexual relationship with Snape."

Before Harry could ask for one Death conjured another bucket for Harry, which was filled almost before it hit his arms. "Never, NEVER say anything so bloody disgusting again! Dear Merlin I think I'm never going to eat again."

"Alright, maybe I shouldn't have dropped that on you like this, but it served my point; there are an infinite amount of universes where everything that can happen, and even some things that you can't think of because this universe doesn't support the idea, has its own universe where it's a given fact. So we will just find a new universe to jump into, and I'll replace that universe's Harry's memories and soul with yours."

"But, that will still leave all of the suffering in this dimension! I can't just leave them here to that hell."

"Um, actually you won't. When your soul leaves this universe it will create a vacuum in the fabric of reality, causing this universe to… well… implode. All of the future suffering won't happen because this universe will simply cease to exist. You do of course have the choice to stay in this universe, go towards your afterlife where almost everyone hates you for being a naïve idiot, and leave the rest of Wizarding Britain to suffer horribly and allow millions to die horrifically. Or you can spare them all of that suffering, go to a new universe where you can be loved, happy and able to take your well-deserved revenge on those two bastards who destroyed your life. The choice is yours to make."

"When you put it like that, it sounds like I'd be a complete arsehole if I didn't go to the new universe. I guess, if it will allow me to change everything… let's go to the new dimension!"

"Excellent! Now we just need to choose which universe to go to."

Death resettled himself in his chair, and Harry did likewise a few moments later. Death reached down to the side of his chair and pulled out a large white leather-bound tome. The corners of the cover were covered in silver plates carved with images of solar systems, and a silver lock attached to a white band kept the book closed. On the front cover was a strange symbol that looked kind of like two highly stylized silver 'F's.

"Now, this book contains descriptions and, if desired, full accountings of the alternate universes. We'll just decide what we'd like to look for and choose the correct universe."

"But aren't we just going to go to a universe that's almost identical to this one?"

"No. If we went to a universe identical to this one we'd arrive to find you dead and the battle raging on outside Hogwarts in Voldemort's final hours. First off we'll need to find a universe that's on a different time-scale, so that we can go back far enough to change the world. Some universes are so far back your ancestors are still crawling around in the mud, and some are forward enough that you've already lived out your lifetime. We'll need to decide when you want to go to. I'd suggest when you're still very young, maybe around five or six, so that we'll be able to change your entire life."

While thinking on it, Harry suddenly had a brainwave. "Wait, wait, wait, can I go to a universe where my parents are still alive?" He was so hopeful, but the fact that Death turned aside so as not to look at him worried him.

"Yes, technically, though I wouldn't advise it. Whatever twist of fate allows your parents to survive turns them, almost without fail, into complete and utter douchebags. They almost always abandon you to the Dursleys, or into the streets, or an orphanage. So let's try to avoid that. Let's find a universe where the events of Halloween 1981 are identical, so you have a valid starting point to go on. Remember, if the universe differs too much your knowledge will be useless."

Death opened the book and ran his finger along a number of runes on the title page, a number of pages glowed brightly before settling down.

"I just instructed the book to list the universes that are on a timescale about eleven years behind ours, so we could go back to when you're six, giving us plenty of time to set up a new life for you before destiny kicks in."

"Alright, so an identical universe set in the past. Sounds good."

"Have you been listening to a thing I've said? Why do you want to go to an identical universe when you could go to one where you'd have every advantage possible? There are universes where you're the heir of Merlin, controlling the wizarding world as its ruler. There are universes where you're a vampire lord, ruling over the mortals as a god-king. There are universes where you are born with enough raw magical power to do literally anything with a snap of your fingers. And that's just the things changed about you: There's universes where you can tattoo runes on your skin that would make you unbeatable in battle; universes where wandless magic can be used as good as wand magic; universes where the animagus transformation can be done in an afternoon with a potion; universes where Occlumency will give you perfect memory and can be installed with a spell. I think we should find a universe where you have all the advantages you can get."

Harry let his mind wander throughout the possibilities that Death was describing. But the mental blocks were still active on his mind, and he could understand that he might not be able to make the most useful of choices. So he made what would undoubtedly become the smartest decision he'd ever made: he asked for help. "What do you recommend?"

Death raised a bony hand to stroke his chin for a moment before reopening the book.

"Let's see… Runes can be the literally most useful things ever, depending on the universe, so let's pick one where they're dead useful. Wandless magic is useful, but not vital since as the true Master of the Hallows you can't lose the Elder Wand, so that'll go in the 'nice to have' pile. Multiple animagus form worlds… no, you'll be too much of a show off. Magical animagus worlds… maybe. I'll protect your mind myself, so Occlumency isn't necessarily important. A world where it'll be easy to take over the Wizengamot, ooh that'll be good.

As for you personally… Multiple Lordships for a good power base, a healthy magical core, and cooperative goblins are very important so yes to that, highly abusive Dursleys will allow you to really make them pay… okay I think we have a good list here."

With each item Death ticked off another rune in the book, until about twenty pages glowed then faded back to regular paper.

"Well that went well. We have about two thousand stable universes that meet all the criteria and are easily accessible. Some universes are unstable, and time passes in sporadic intervals, and sometimes stops entirely. Let me just find a good one." Death flicked through the pages for a few moments before, "Aha! Here we are, the perfect universe for you to relocate to. The time flow is a little under twelve years behind this one, so it is your sixth birthday today. Get ready, because this might hurt a little."

"What will hurt-Aaah!" Harry couldn't finish his question, as at that moment Death jumped up and swung his scythe, knocking Harry's soul into a fine, glittering mist, which swirled in on itself before disappearing. Death looked around his sitting room before nodding, gathering his book and flapping his skeletal wings then vanishing with a soft 'pop'.

Exactly 23 seconds later, the universe they just exited imploded.

"-Aaah!" Harry screamed, feeling like he had just fallen a few feet before being caught by a levitation spell, before realizing his voice was a lot higher than it had been a few seconds ago. He wasn't in Death's parlour anymore, he was in a small, dark, cramped cupboard sitting on a broken mattress.

"It worked. It worked! I'm six again! Oh god damnit I'm six again." Harry muttered, looking at his tiny hands. He knew he would be younger again, but the reality of that hadn't really hit yet.

"Yes, but this time you have me." Echoed a deep voice in the base of Harry's skull.

"Death? Is that you?"

"Yes, we are linked for the rest of your life, so I will be able to speak with you anywhere. This lifetime will go much better for you, starting today. Call the Hallows to you."

"But I'm not their master here. The Cloak is locked in Dumbledore's office, the Stone is still buried and cursed, and Dumbledore is still master of the Wand."

"Just as I exist simultaneously in all universes, so do my Hallows. Call to them, and they shall come to you. This universe was perfect for sending you here right now, because this Harry briefly died of irregular heart activity. Your magic would have brought you back to life in a minute, but it was the perfect opportunity to slip your soul in, while moving this Harry's soul elsewhere."

"What did happen to this Harry?"

"I couldn't let both of you still be Harry, so I wiped the memories of this Harry's life, trust me I was doing him a favor, the Dursleys are far more abusive in this universe, and used the soul to help out a stillborn little girl in America. She'll be magical, but other than that she'll have her own life. Luckily this also allowed me to remove the piece of soul in your scar, so you won't have to worry about that this time. Unfortunately one of the trade-offs in this universe is that Riddle didn't use Peverell's ring in order to make a Horcrux, instead he used Marvolo's wand, which belonged to Slytherin's son Cyril. The ring with the Resurrection Stone was buried with Morfin. Call the Hallows Harry, we have much to do today."

"Alright then." Harry cleared his throat, before holding up his hand. "I, Harry Potter, call to me the Deathly Hallows."

As the last syllable faded, Harry felt a silky soft weight wrap around his shoulders, a cool metal band encircle his right middle finger, and a long length of wood form in his hand.

The three Hallows had responded to his call.

"Wicked. I bet the old man is pissing himself in fear right now that his wand is gone…"

In a castle many miles away in the Scottish highlands, an old man was tearing his office apart in fear. Albus Dumbledore had been sitting at his desk, reading a few books on goblin etiquette. Today was Harry's sixth birthday, and as such the first day Albus could access his vaults as his Magical Guardian. But all thoughts of stealing from the Potter orphan went right out the window when his wand vanished from his holster. A loud, ear-splitting siren alerted him that the Potter's Invisibility Cloak had also disappeared. Dumbledore flipped his desk over, searching each nook and cranny of his large office for the Elder Wand. Looking in on the madness was Fawkes, standing on a high bookshelf, and the Sorting Hat, perched next to him.

The hat leaned over towards the phoenix and murmured, "Looks like the old crackpot has finally snapped."

Fawkes trilled in agreement, once again debating whether or not he had made the right choice decades ago allowing that man to become Headmaster.

Harry examined the wand held in his small fist. The Elder Wand was filled with so much raw power he could almost feel it humming.

"I think I should explain a few things to you Harry. As Master of the Hallows they will act differently than if you were using them as a normal person. For everyone else the Cloak will act as a normal invisibility cloak, except it will last forever. For you it will make you truly disappear, you cannot be found by any means while wearing it if you so wish. The Stone normally would allow you to summon the shades of the dead for a brief time before they began to feel the torment of being on a plane of existence they don't belong to. You can summon the dead for as long as you wish, and it will allow you to command and interact with ghosts. The Wand would grant improved strength with spells and magic to its wielder until it was taken from him, making its user almost unbeatable in duels. While you, by contrast, cannot be defeated in magical combat while using that wand and will be its master until you die."

Harry stared in wonder at the items he held, realizing he could do almost anything with the power they offered him. This was going to be fun! Harry pondered how to start off his new life, before he had an idea. "Death, can the Ministry tell if I use magic if I'm using the Elder Wand?"

"They couldn't detect you anyway while using the Cloak, but no, no one can detect my wand."

"Good. Bombarda!"

The blasting hex sent the door to the cupboard flying into the opposite wall, where it stuck a good inch into the plaster. Emerging from the confines of his cupboard for the last time, Harry stretched and looked out the window. It was just before dawn by the looks of the lighting outside. Harry waited a minute, and right on cue he heard the lumbering steps of his whale of an uncle.


Vernon Dursley raced down the steps in his dressing robe and slippers, his face a deep purple that looked almost red. Upon seeing Harry, wrapped in a silvery cloak and holding a wand, he let out an inarticulate roar of rage and rushed the boy.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The body bind hit Vernon while still on the stairs, causing him to crash into the floor and break his nose. A simple levitation spell had Vernon settled onto the couch, while a quick scourgify cleaned the blood up. A couple minutes later later Petunia and Dudley Dursley rushed into the room, Petunia holding a cricket bat. Two more body binds and a few messy levitations and all three Dursleys were seated on the couch.

"Finite Minimus." The minor spell-canceling charm freed the heads of the three sitting before him.

"BOY! Let us go this instant! I swear I'll-"

"Expulso Minimus." The minor explosion charm Harry shot at his uncle's groin shut him up quite rapidly. There wasn't enough power to cause serious damage, but it would hurt. A lot.

"Now, I felt that we all needed this little chat because I'm going to be leaving soon. And I won't be coming back. So, I just thought we all needed to clear the air. First, you three are the worst examples of human beings I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. As you can see by my wand-" Here Petunia let out a shrill shriek, while Vernon's moaning and crying took on a vaguely insulting tone. "-I have discovered I am a wizard. For sixte- eh, six years, you treated me like garbage. A slave you kept locked in your attic. Er, cupboard. Did you think no one would ever find out? Did you think the rest of the wizarding world would just sit back and let a family of muggles torture a magical child without making you pay for it?" Petunia's face paled at that. Apparently she hadn't thought about that. "Or, did you ever think that I might want revenge? Well, I do. And before I leave, I'm going to have it."

Harry put up a silencing charm on all three of them and turned to the pristine living room he had cleaned countless times in the past. A muttered reducto turned a table into a pile of kindling. A few colour changing charms splattered the furniture, walls and ceiling. A conjuration summoned a horde of spiders to infest the house. And so it went, by the time the sun was above the horizon, Number 4 Privet Drive was completely trashed. The furniture was ruined, the rooms scorched and colored, infestations of pests all over the house, filth caked everywhere. It was perfect. Harry waved his wand over the three Dursleys, who had gone pale and limp upon seeing the raw destructive powers Harry could wield. Dudley had wet himself after a giant snake slithered over him.

"The body binds will wear off in an hour. Have a nice life, I won't be in it. I no longer call this place Home, and sever all ties with the family Dursley. Just one last thing. Obliviate!"

As the wards protecting 4 Privet Drive collapsed, and the Dursleys lost all memories of the morning Harry turned on his heel and dissapperated away. If Dumbledore wasn't losing his mind over the loss of his wand, he would have noticed a small silver instrument go off before sputtering and dying signaling the wards were gone.

Harry skidded and just barely managed to keep himself upright when he landed in the alleyway to the side of the Leaky Cauldron. Death spoke into his mind when he wasn't dizzy anymore.

"Good start so far Harry. Good job remembering to wipe their memories. We can take some more detailed vengeance later, alright?"

"Okay, I guess. What should I do now?"

"Go to Gringotts and demand to see the head of the Potter accounts. Goblins in this universe don't care about what the wizards do as long as it's all nice and legal; they're warriors first and foremost, but as bureaucrats they're twice as deadly. So it doesn't matter that you're only six, since you can legally claim your lordships and vaults you'll be able to do so as you will. Use your Cloak to hide yourself and head on down to Gringotts, then ask for an inheritance test, allowing you to claim the Lordship of the four families you're descended from."

"Four? I'm the Lord of four families?!"

"Yes, your family is very old, and your ancestors mixed with many different magical families, muggles and even some magical creatures. In this universe you're about 1/64th total combined Fae and 1/128th veela."

"Aren't all veela female though?" Harry asked, remembering asking Fleur a little bit about her culture during the days leading up to her and Bill's wedding.

"Yes, all veela are female. But veela can have male children who are occasionally carriers for the veela genes, which usually manifest in enhanced skill with charms and cantrips and can lead to clear, pale skin. Ever wonder why you never got a single pimple? Back to the topic at hand, once you're talking with the Potter manager ask to see your parents' will and point out that Dumbledore has acted in direct defiance to it. This will technically be a breach of one of the clauses in the last Goblin War Treaty, and is grounds for them to emancipate you, and see Dumbledore kicked from the bank. Afterwards inform the goblins that there is a Horcrux in Bellatrix's vault. They will destroy it and should give you the cup, along with a good portion of her wealth as a thank you. After visiting your vaults, collect the paintings of your parents and ancestors, then collect the portkey for Potter Manor, which is a few miles up the coast from Cardiff in Wales. Before you do that though get a portkey to St. Mungo's in order to have your magical gifts unbound. This is a universe where you're pretty powerful, since Dumbledore bound around 90% this time, and you'd be able to do everything a normal wizard could do."

"Okay, I'll get on that. Thank you."

"You are welcome, now get to it."

Harry waved the Elder Wand to transfigure his cousin's cast-offs into a set of decent black robes. He then pulled the Cloak tight around himself, and watched in amazement as he slowly faded into transparency; unlike when he used it before, he could still see himself. Harry stepped into the streets, and walked into the dingy interior of the Leaky Cauldron, before slipping unseen through the back into the courtyard. Harry tapped the necessary brick and watched as the opening to Diagon Alley rolled open. Since it was still very early, most people weren't up for the day yet. Harry walked quickly through the thankfully empty streets, hurrying towards the polished marble steps of Gringotts.

As he was walking, he suddenly felt the strangest sensation fill his body: it was like he was feeling extreme vertigo while being wrapped in a feather comforter while being dipped in ice water. He turned towards where he was certain the feeling was coming from and saw that he was outside Ollivander's wand shop, and the odd shop owner was staring directly at him through the small door in the window.

"Death, I think Mr. Ollivander can see me. I thought you said I was truly invisible now?"

Harry then felt a surge of emotion flow from within his mind, most likely from Death: anger, regret, annoyance, longing, and… fear.

"Run. NOW."

Harry realized that he shouldn't argue with Death at that point and sprinted the rest of the way towards the bank, feeling the pale silver eyes of the wandmaker on the back of his head. Once he was out of sight of Ollivander he began to ask what had happened, when Death snapped, "Not now, I'll explain later."

Harry canceled the Cloak's powers as he approached the bank, assuming the goblins wouldn't appreciate someone trying to sneak into the bank. The pair of armored goblins looked strangely at the strangely dressed child entering the bank so early, but opened the doors regardless. Harry pulled the silvery cloak tighter around him, bowing his head to the guards. Entering the entry hall Harry paused for a moment to look at the silver doors engraved with the eerie poem he had read the first time he had entered Gringotts:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed.

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Passing through the entry hall and into the bank proper, he looked around the room in awe once more. Last time he was in here, it was under the unwilling control of Voldemort's men, and he had broken into Bellatrix's vault and stolen a dragon after being betrayed by Griphook. Now he was about to become their biggest client, claim four lordships and help them destroy a Horcrux. What a weird change in experiences.

Walking to the nearest open teller, who was counting out large gold coins the size of dinner plates, Harry waited until he was done. After three minutes the goblin counted the last coin and wrote something down in a leather bound ledger.

"Can I assist you?" The goblin asked, having to lean over the counter to see Harry.

Harry bowed slightly to the teller while Death whispered formal greetings in his ear. "Greetings Master Teller. I require an audience with the head of the Potter account at his earliest convenience."

The goblin raised a single eyebrow at the respectful tone. "And who may I say is asking?"

"Harry Potter."

The goblin's eyes flicked to the scar above Harry's eye, which was already fading since Death had removed the Horcrux inside. The teller flipped the sign at his station to 'closed' and waddled away from the counter. "Follow me, please."

Harry followed the goblin through a pair of iron doors at the side of the hall, crossing through a number of hallways and corridors hewn from rough granite. Finally they stopped in front of a bronze door engraved with the word POTTER. Knocking once the goblin opened the door and ushered Harry inside. While the corridors outside were very rough and crude, the office was very comfortable. The walls were paneled in pale wood, the floors covered in white marble. The ceiling was domed, giving the room the feeling of much more space. The wall to the left of the door was one giant bookcase, filled with countless tomes and scrolls. The right wall had a number of weapons hung as decoration, though they all seemed ready for use at a moment's notice. A large window looked down into a giant cavern criss-crossed by tracks and walkways on the back wall. At a large desk made from a dark wood sat a rather plump goblin, though Harry couldn't tell if it was fat or muscle.

"What is it, Teller Sharpclaw?" The goblin growled out softly.

"Harry Potter asked to see you, sir."

"Harry Potter?" The large goblin stood, and Harry could tell it was muscle now, not fat. He may have been wearing a three-piece pinstripe suit, but Harry could still see the outline of a shirt of chainmail under his vest. "Come in, come in Mr. Potter. You are dismissed, Sharpclaw."

"Thank you, Sharpclaw. May your fortunes never cease." Harry said to the departing goblin.

"So, Mister Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure? I am Senior Account Manager Farbasher. I am in charge of the Potter family finances, and have been for the past seventy years."

"Well, Master Farbasher, I believe we have a bit of a problem. Were you at the will making of my parents?"

"Yes, it was done in this very office. Why?"

"And who was the witness to the will?"

"Albus Dumbledore, he was the acting witness along with one Sirius Black. Where are you going with this?"

"Dumbledore deliberately acted in defiance of my parents' will. He sealed the will in the Wizengamot, and then left me with a group specifically designated as never supposed to even have contact with me. He illegally declared himself my Magical Guardian, and kept me ignorant of my family's holdings. I have never once received a bank statement from Gringotts, or been told about my accounts here. I'm not even sure if my family owned any properties besides the one in Godric's Hollow. In fact, thanks to some information given to me by a trusted source, I came here today because I feared that he was going to try and steal from my vaults today, since this is my sixth birthday, and the first time he is allowed into my vaults as my Magical Guardian. As you can see, this is all pretty serious."

As Harry told his tale, Farbasher grew paler and paler, before then suddenly practically glowing red with rage.

"We have a copy of your parents' will on record. Let me just grab it." Farbasher growled. He walked over to the bookcase and browsed through the scrolls before pulling loose a newer scroll and walking back to the desk. He broke the seal and held it up to read.

"' I, James Charlus Potter, being of sound mind and body,

And I, Lily Evans Potter, being of sound mind and body,

Do hereby declare this to be our final Will and Testament, dated September 17, 1981, rendering any previous documents null and void.

To our longtime friend Sirius Orion Black we leave the sum of G500,000 and the title of Harry's godfather. We ask for you to look after him Padfoot, and make sure he knows what the Potter family stands for.

To Remus John Lupin, knowing you you're trying to find a way to blame yourself for our passing, but it's not your fault. We leave you G 500,000 and the deed to our summer home in Godric's Hollow.

To Peter Pettigrew, your status as a beneficiary depends on the circumstance of our death: If you are innocent of our demise we leave you G 500,000 and ask Padfoot and Moony to look out for you. If you, as our secret keeper, betrayed us to Voldemort then we curse you, and ask that your pockets be filled with S 30 when you're executed.

To the Longbottoms, we've always had each other's backs, and Alice is Harry's unofficial godmother, so we ask you to look after him if something happens to Sirius, and leave you G 250,000.

To Minerva McGonagall, you were our favorite professor, and I remember fondly being a baby when you and my mother would watch over me playing. We leave to you the sum of G 10,000 and ask that no matter what Harry can get to love you like the grandmother he never had.

To Amelia Bones, I don't want anything to do with this part, mainly because I'm still pissed off at your brother trying to force our children together, I leave the sum of G 10,000 and ask that you keep an eye out for my son. We were friends in school Amelia, and I still maintain that Harry and Susan are the most affectionate children I've ever seen together.

To Andromeda Tonks, we leave the sum of G 10,000 and I, James Charlus Potter as Head of House Potter invite you, as my blood cousin, and your family to join the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. I know it's not as good as Walburga letting you back in to the Black family, but hopefully this will allow you to hold your head up high again around the snobs Sirius likes to mock.

To the Flamels, as all of our ancestors have done before we renew the oath between our families, and grant you access to our gardens and farms for the next century to collect the reagents necessary for your research.

Finally, all remaining monies, properties, artifacts and titles shall be left to our only son, Harrison James Potter.

Harry, sweetie, if you ever hear this we never got to see you grow up, and the very thought of that breaks my heart. Know that your father and I love you very much, and no matter what you do in life we are so proud of you and love you with all our hearts.

Guardianship of Harry shall be listed as follows:

Harry's godfather, Sirius Orion Black.

Our longtime friend, Remus John Lupin.

The Longbottoms, James' partner Frank and Harry's godmother Alice.

Minerva McGonagall, James' godmother and longtime friend.

Amelia Bones, James' friend in school and current boss.

Andromeda Tonks, James' cousin and one of the sweetest and strongest women we've ever met.

The Flamels, sworn allies to the House of Potter.

If the worst should come to pass and none of the above are available, Harry shall be left to the Offices of Magical Orphans and placed in a home that has never had any affiliation with the organization known as the 'Death Eaters', and a sum to be agreed upon shall be paid for Harry's upkeep.

Under absolutely NO circumstances should my sister Petunia be allowed to raise Harry, she would probably end up killing him.

Witnessed by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,

Sirius Orion Black,

Franklin Joseph Longbottom. '"

Harry sat there, stunned, with tears tracking down his face. Death had told him he had been arranged to go with other people, but to hear his parents' words on the matter was something else entirely. He could have grown up with Neville as a brother. He could have been taught by Remus from day one. He could have been raised by McGonagall, who from the sound of it was a lot closer to him as a baby then as a child. Harry remembered Susan Bones, the girl he was almost forced to marry, she was shy but pretty nice. He could have had her as a sister growing up. Tonks! He could have had Tonks as a big sister; that would have been incredible.

Harry started crying in earnest, thinking about all the things that could have been, had one man's greed and vanity not ruined his life.

"Am I to assume you did not end up with any of the guardians on the approved list, Mr. Potter?" Farbasher asked, in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"I was placed in a basket and left on the Dursleys' doorstep the day after my parents were killed, without any form of medical treatment or letting anyone from Magical Children's Services know where I was. Dumbledore himself placed me there, tucking a letter into my blankets for my aunt."

"That is enough for me. Dumbledore has broken our trust, and the trust placed to him by your family. He is no longer allowed to do business within our bank. Half of his personal vault is forfeit to the goblin nation for betraying our trust, as is standard vault rental policy, and a third of the remainder is to be gifted to you as the one most impacted by his actions. He will also be blocked from access to the Dumbledore family vaults. We can commence the emancipation and lordship ceremonies in a few hours."

"Thank you Master Farbasher. I would also like to take an inheritance test, if possible. I believe I am possibly the heir of a number of families."

"That can also be arranged. Why don't you wait in my lounge, I'll have someone come up with some refreshments in a moment."

"Thank you." Harry got to his feet, once again surprised at the fact that he was a couple feet shorter then he was yesterday. He followed Farbasher through a hidden door on the weapons wall into a small lounge. Two sofas sat on either side of an oval table, and a few non-moving paintings hung on the wall. Harry sat down on the plush sofa, and stretched out, settling onto the couch. He hadn't realized it before, but he was pretty tired.

"As soon as the proper paperwork and offices are notified, we'll have all this sorted out. I'll leave you to it, and I'll be back when everything is settled."

Harry thanked Farbasher and settled back onto the couch.

"How did you know that the goblins would help me?"

"It happens very frequently in other universes where you are given help. You usually end up becoming the heir to a dozen ancient and forgotten families, accruing limitless wealth and being forced to honor a pile of centuries' old betrothal contracts. In one of the most entertaining of the universes you were left to the goblins by Vernon and named Crow (1). I'm watching with rapt attention."

"Okay then. Um, will any of that happen here?"

"No, this universe is stacked in your favor but to go so far overboard would just ruin everything, make it pointless. You are incredibly powerful, but not a god. You are intelligent, but not smarter than Einstein and Rowena combined with a dash of Da Vinci thrown in. You have four families whose name you can inherit, but that's it."

"Good then. Hopefully I don't go overboard in this dimension with all that stuff."

"That remains to be seen. I did only do a rudimentary scan of this universe for the basics. I know there are no marriage contracts for you, so that's nice."

Harry closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, waiting for his future to change.

After what felt like only a few minutes of sleep, Harry felt his small frame being shaken awake. Blinking open tired eyes, Harry looked into the grinning face of Farbasher. Not the most pleasant thing to wake up to, that's for sure.

"Mr. Potter, we have arranged for everything that you requested. If you'll just follow me, we can finish off all this nasty business once and for all."

"Thank you Farbasher."

Harry got up and followed the goblin back into his office. There were another three goblins loitering around Farbasher's desk, watching Harry with interest.

"Harry, this is Inheritance Director Sharpslash," The goblin who bowed was rather tall for his people, and more than a passing resemblance to the teller Harry spoke to earlier.

", the Head of our Legal Department Goldgrim," This goblin was very fat, but had a noticeable touch of good humour in his eyes, which were glancing at Harry from behind golden half-moon spectacles, much like Dumbledore's.

", and finally, the Manager of Familial Accounts and Affairs, Leadgut." The last goblin wore gray robes, with a metal belt of looped gold holding up a dagger. He looked vaguely important, in a ceremonial sort of way.

"They are here to help finish up the issues you brought up. First will be Goldgrim, so we can get you emancipated so you can then claim the Lordship of your family."

Goldgrim hefted a stack of parchment and settled it onto the desk in front of Harry.

"Normally, all requests for emancipation go through the Wizengamot, where Dumbledore is Chief Warlock, and could block all attempts. But luckily, this is in relation to an ascending Lordship, which is left up to the previous Lord where it can occur. Your parents trusted the bank to handle this, so all we have to do is inform the Wizengamot of the change in status."

"But won't Dumbledore still find out?" Harry asked, concerned. Goldgrim smiled smugly, revealing a sharp gold fang.

"Ah, but your Ministry refuses to accept any direct mail from us. We will send in the status forms with our quarterly inputs to the Offices of the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures, where all mail between our two people must be sent. By the time the form is discovered, checked and sent to the Wizengamot, you'll probably have graduated Hogwarts!"

"That is sneaky, treacherous and underhanded. I like it!" Harry took the Blood Quill from Goldgrim's claws and started signing the forms where he indicated. After a few minutes, the last page was signed and the entire bundle glowed blue before splitting into three copies.

"One for the Ministry, one for Legal, and one for Farbasher here. Have a nice day, Mr. Potter." Goldgrim left the office carrying two copies of the forms. Farbasher took one and shelved it amongst other Potter family records. Sharpslash took the recently vacated chair and set out a sheet of pure white parchment, a small bowl of beaten and engraved gold, a simple iron dagger engraved with a number of runes, a vibrant red quill and a glass bottle full of ink.

"Mr. Potter, I am Sharpslash, and I will be conducting your inheritance test. All I need for you to do is cut your finger, and allow a few drops of blood to fall into the bowl. I can do the rest."

Harry shrugged and picked up the dagger. He slit the tip of his index finger and squeezed it, allowing a few drops of blood to drop into the bowl. After a gesture from Sharpslash Harry settled back. The goblin emptied the bottle of ink into the bowl, and stirred the mix with the dagger. He then placed the quill into the mixture, and it quickly absorbed the ink/blood solution. Sharpclaw then placed the ink-filled quill on the parchment, where it began writing on its own. After a minute, the quill neatly settled itself on the side of the parchment. Sharpslash glanced at the parchment, grunted, then handed it back to Harry. Harry looked down to see what families he belonged to.

Name: Harrison James Potter

Parents: James Charlus Potter (D)

Lily Potter nee Evans (D)

Age: 6 (Physically) 17(Mentally)

Marital Status: Single, No Active Marriage Contracts

Life Debts: 0 Owed, 1 Owned (S. Snape, passed on from father.) Possibly 14,604 (Through Destruction of Tom Marvolo Riddle.)

Family History: Ancient and Noble House of Potter (Heir)

Most Ancient House of Peverell (Heir)

Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Gryffindor (Heir)

Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Ravenclaw (Heir)

Innate Magical Properties: Magical Empathy (Gnome Ancestry)

Love of flight (Sprite Ancestry)

Uncommon Luck (Bluecap Ancestry)

Clear skin/ Increased Healing Speed (Veela Ancestry)

"Well," Harry said after a moment, "didn't see that coming."

"Yes. Neither did I." Sharpslash said, gazing at Harry with interest. "I was looking through your family tree while you were gazing at your newfound family," he hefted up a leather bound book, "and have determined how you came to be related to each family."

Sharpslash laid out the family genealogy and pointed to an entry from the early 9th century.

"Irmina Peverell, the Squib daughter of the last Lord Peverell, married the muggleborn wizard Anthony Potter in the year 822 A.D. He was named the Lord Potter-Peverell, and inherited all the lands and wealth of the Peverell line. His great-grandson took the title Lord Potter, and every generation since has done so as well. The Peverell line is considered the single oldest in all of Great Britain, and holds three seats in the Wizengamot. Now, the founders' lines."

Sharpshard flipped a few pages in the book.

"It is a little known fact that all of the Hogwarts founders were married. Salazar Slytherin was married to a pureblood witch from France, Helga Hufflepuff was married to a muggleborn wizard she met in the hospital she ran, and Rowena… Rowena was married twice. Her first marriage was to a wealthy, but otherwise unknown, pureblood lord. Her father, the Lord Ravenclaw, made the pair wed through use of a marriage contract. As her line was the more influential at the time they kept her name. After a few years of marriage, her husband left Rowena, pregnant with their firstborn child, to marry a prostitute he met while travelling through the east.

Godric Gryffindor had loved Rowena from afar for years, and when he found out what happened he slew her former husband in a duel and married her. She gave birth to her daughter, Helena Ravenclaw, shortly aftherwards. Rowena and Godric then had two children of their own, a son named Antione Gryffindor and a daughter named Elisa. In the year 1466, the last member of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw line, Cora Gryffindor, married the Lord Marcus Potter, integrating both the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw lines into the Potter family. The Gryffindor line held two hereditary seats, and the Ravenclaw line held three. As for the magical creature blood…"

A few more pages were flicked and shuffled through.

"In 944 A.D. Lionel Potter married a Bluecap named Sapphire, imbuing the Potter line with supernatural luck. In 1306, the closest time until now that the Potter family has been to extinction, Daphne Potter made a deal with the Gnome King Softroot: he would marry her and guarantee her a half dozen sons, and once they all reached adulthood she would go with him into his kingdom to be his queen. It was considered a fair bargain all around, and Daphne happily went with her husband once their youngest son reached 17. Three separate Potters married sprites, gifting your line with a love and talent for flying. And your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather Altair Potter married a French veela matriarch, and showcasing the luck inherent with Bluecap blood had two human sons along with three veela daughters."

Sharpshard closed the book and tapped the parchment detailing Harry's family history. Four small boxes appeared on top of it.

"These are the four Lord's Rings for the families you head, Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw." Sharpclaw said, smirking while saying his whole title. "Once they accept you, Leadgut can then inform you about your new holdings."

Harry, unnoticed by the goblins, slipped the Resurrection Stone ring onto his left middle finger. He then reached out to open the closest box, which had the word 'Potter' engraved on top in gold script. The ring inside was beautiful. A thick silver band set with an octagonal piece of orange-brown citrine. The Potter family crest, which Harry had never seen before, was set on the gem. Much to Harry's amusement, the family crest was a long necked vase made of ceramic with two large side handles made of gold inset with a large golden "P", and coiled around the base of the vase was a length of ivy. Around the gem was the legend "Audaces Fortuna Iuvat".

"What does the motto mean?" Harry asked, examining the ring.

"'Fortune Favors the Bold', I believe. The first Lord Potter chose it because he asked his wife, Irmina Peverell, to marry him after meeting her once. His boldness was rewarded with wealth, power and a loving family."

Harry took the heavy ring and slipped it onto his right ring finger. He felt a brief pulse of magic flood through his body, as if testing him, before the ring shrank to fit his finger. The box it was held in disappeared.

"Good. You are now officially the Lord Potter. Hopefully the other rings will accept you as well."

Harry took the oldest looking box, marked 'Peverell'. The family ring was a simple band made out of three braided strands of gold, silver and copper with a triangular piece of white marble engraved with a golden Deathly Hallows symbol. Harry slid the ring onto his right pinky. The pulse of magic was a bit weaker, but lasted longer before it too resized itself and the box disappeared. The Gryffindor ring was, unsurprisingly, golden with a large rectangular ruby. The band was carved to look like chainmail, while two rearing griffins with ruby eyes held the main ruby from either side. A large golden "G" was engraved in the center of the gem. This ring went onto his middle finger. The pulse of magic this ring sent out caused Harry to almost fall out of his seat, but the same result occurred as with the other two. Finally, a shaking Harry picked up the Ravenclaw ring. It was made out of smooth bronze, and was set with an oval sapphire. Two ravens sat on either side of the gem, staring at Harry with tiny sapphire eyes. Made out of silver was a large, simple "R" in the center. Carefully sliding the ring onto his index finger, a similar pulse to the Gryffindor one actually managed to knock Harry to the floor. When he managed to regain his seat, the ring fit snugly and the last box was gone.

"Those pulses were the ancient family magics searching you to make sure you're actually supposed to be wearing the rings. The older lines are buried deeply, so the magic needed to search deeper." Death offered into Harry's still frazzled mind.

"Well, that was… interesting." Harry choked out, staring at his new rings.

Sharpslash looked highly pleased.

"Yes, and entertaining. Thank you for your time, Lord Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Ravenclaw. Have a profitable day." The goblin left the room, and finally Leadgut settled into Farbasher's chair. Farbasher settled next to Harry.

"Well, we have quite a few things for you to go over, milord." Leadgut said smoothly. His voice was surprisingly glassy for a goblin. "I'll leave Farbasher to go over the Potter accounts, but the other three were entrusted to me, as Head of Familial Accounts, years ago."

He pulled three ledgers, one noticeably thinner than the other two.

"Now, easy one first. The Peverell family was integrated into the Potter family to save it from being absorbed by the Ministry since Irmina was a squib, and was for all accounts and purposes nonexistent to the Ministry. There is no money or land with this account, but a small vault containing a few heirlooms was sealed for only the Lord Peverell. It's mostly books with a few pieces of jewelry thrown in. More importantly are your seats on the Wizengamot, which have been held by proxies who have abstained from voting, as is custom, for over two hundred years. You have three of them under the Peverell name. You will want to claim them, or appoint your own proxies as soon as possible."

Leadgut closed the small ledger and opened a larger one.

"The Gryffindor family vaults contain G 28,135,133. They also contain an excess of fourteen million Galleons worth of rare books, weaponry, armor and heirlooms. I believe a painting of Godric also rests in the vault. The Gryffindor family castle, named the Griffin's Haven at its construction, was renamed and used to found Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ownership of the building itself, the surrounding grounds, the forbidden forest and Hogsmeade village, along with 25% percent ownership of the school, passes to you. You also inherit the two Wizengamot seats, which have been held by non-voting proxies for centuries."

Another ledger set aside, and another one opened.

"The Ravenclaw family were some of the shrewdest investors and businessmen and the vaults contain G 35,168,916. And, quite appropriately, the amount of books, magical artifacts and heirlooms is estimated at last accounting to be worth in excess of twenty-three million Galleons. The Ravenclaw family's ancestral home is Ravenclaw Manor, located in southern Scotland. They also own a small island in the Mediterranean Sea known simply as 'The Nest', which contains a small villa and vineyard. As with the Gryffindor lordship, you inherit 25% ownership of the school, and three Wizengamot seats that need to be addressed."

Leadgut set the last ledger aside and stared at Harry over his folded hands. "The other two founders left notes in their wills that stated if their lines should fall extinct, their percentages of ownership of the school should fall to the living lines. Hufflepuff's line went extinct in the early 1800's, and Slytherin still has a single living member. Helga's ownership is therefore split between you two, leaving you with a 62.5% ownership of Hogwarts School. Through the three families you also control eight Wizengamot seats. You, Mr. Potter, are a very powerful individual. I will cease taking up Farbasher's time and let him inform you of your interests with the Potter family finances."

Leadgut left the office, leaving Harry alone with Farbasher, who finally retook his seat.

"Well, Mr. Potter, let's finally end this all, eh?" he hefted out a large ledger, thicker than either of the other three.

"The Potter family has, through a combination of luck, good business sense, kindness and skill amassed a large fortune, and the vaults contain G 416,510,000 and also, of course, a large number of heirlooms that only increase the value. The last addition to the vault was a painting, done of your parents only a month before their deaths. I do believe you'll be wanting that. You have inherited a number of properties, including the Potter Manor, in the south of Wales. The Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow, although in ruins, is also yours. A small island in the Bahamas called, and I quote from the deed itself, "Prongs' Hideaway from his Tiger-Lily", was given to your father by Sirius Black on his 21st birthday. It has a small cabana, and a plantation of coconut trees. You also have a vineyard in the south of France, a villa on the Italian coast just north of Naples, a castle in Russia and an apartment building in New York City, in America.

You own a number of businesses, including the 'Ogden's Finest' Distillery, the makers of Firewhiskey, the largest Acromantula silk farm in Europe, a series of greenhouses supplying half the potion ingredients in Britain, the Nimbus Broom Company, and the Diagon Alley shops Eeylop's Owl Emporium and Magical Menagerie. You have a controlling interest in the Quidditch team Puddlemere United, and the Irish National Quidditch Team. The Potter family controls five seats on the Wizengamot, which have been held by proxies since the deaths of your grandparents. All in all, Lord Potter, you are a very wealthy individual."

Farbasher closed the ledger and pulled a single sheet of paper from the ledger.

"In total, you have complete control of the Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw vaults, totaling 479,814,715 Galleons in liquid assets. You own approximately 240 million Galleons in property. You are the primary owner of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and therefore have absolute control on the ongoings of the school. You control 13 seats on the Wizengamot, a very decent power block in its own right. Just sign a few documents, and we can finalize things here."

A few documents turned out to be an hour of signing papers, some with a Blood Quill. But finally, rubbing his aching hand, Harry was an emancipated Lord ready to live his own life.

"Alright Lord Potter, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes, can I get a ride down to my vaults? I wish to inspect them and make a withdrawal. And, um, is there any way I can get a portkey to St. Mungo's?"

"Are you feeling unwell, Lord Potter? We have some rather skilled healers here, if you would prefer not to move." Farbasher asked, concerned.

"No, nothing like that. I recently learened that Dumbledore also placed a number of blocks on me, and would like to ask the staff at St. Mungo's to look into it."

"Yes, that might be for the best. My people are not the most skilled at removing such spells. Though we are skilled at placing them, if you can ever get Dumbledore in here…" Farbasher suggestively trailed off.

Harry laughed. "I'll remember that. Can you do it?"

"I'll have it waiting when you get back from the vaults. Griphook!"

A small, nervous goblin entered the room a minute later, introducing himself as Intern-Assistant Griphook, who led Harry down into the bowels of the bank. Harry stared at the back of the traitor's head, thinking of some way to get revenge on the little bastard. Finally the cart came to a stop in the deepest bowels of the bank, in front of a large metal door engraved with a large copy of the Potter Crest. Pressing his Lord ring against the seal in front of the vault caused the great metal door to creak open, allowing Harry entrance into his family's caverns of wealth.

Passing countless stacks of gold and silver, cases filled with jewelry, bookcases stuffed with rare tomes, and chests whose contents were unknown, Harry came to large, covered easel. Heart pounding, Harry pulled back the sheet and almost cried.

The paintings wer well done, and had simple, golden frames. The painting on the left depicted a living room, with a window showing a sunlit yard full of trees, a comfortable fireplace and a sofa. Curled up on the sofa was Lily Potter. The right portrait depicted a cozy study, and in front of a fireplace in a highbacked chair was James Potter.

Harry reached up and touched the canvases, tears in his eyes.

"Mum? Dad?"

At his voice a spark moved throughout the paintings, awakening the inhabitants. Lily woke first, yawning and stretching her arms. Rubbing her eyes, she turned towards Harry and froze.

"James! James wake up!" she shouted. James Potter woke with a start, looking at his wife then at his son.

"Harry?" He whispered.

"Mum! Dad!" Harry cried, trying to hug the painting.

"Harry," Lily said, sobbing and reaching forward to place her hand against the surface of the painting. "My god, look how big you've gotten! How old are you now?"

"I'm- I'm six mum. Today's my sixth birthday."

"Six? Sirius should have brought us up when he got you. Where is he, by the way?" James asked, looking around the vault.

"There's, there's just so much to tell you guys. I'll explain everything later. But Sirius didn't end up with me. Dumbledore sealed your will and left me with Petunia."

"PETUNIA!" Lily roared with rage. "He left you with them! I'll wring his wrinkly neck! You'll tell us everything, right?"

"Of course mum, but not now. I have a few more vaults to look through, then a trip to St. Mungos. I'll explain everything when we get to Potter Manor."

Harry drew the Elder Wand and tapped the picture frames, shrinking the life-size paintings to fit in his pocket. He filled a small sack Griphook had given him with about three hundred Galleons from one of the giant piles. On his way out he grabbed a necklace with the Potter Crest on a pendant with a tag that read: "Potter Manor Portkey- Activation phrase 'Sanctuary'." Harry wandered back to the goblin and left for the next vault.

The Gryffindor vault was very untidy. Piles of gold were mixed in with pieces of jewelry and books. But the stands of armor and racks of weapons were elegantly kept. Harry looked around appraisingly before coming across a large painting on the back wall. It depicted a comfortable glen, with a small cottage in the background, and a comfortable moss covered tree to nestle against in the foreground. Curled up under the tree was a large man with fiery red hair hanging down to his shoulders and a curly beard. He had a nose that had been broken many times, a deep scar running down the left side of his face and it looked like half his bottom lip was missing. Though he kept an air of kind nobleness about him. Crimson robes edged in gold were spilled open, revealing a suit of golden armor with an image of a red griffin imprinted on the chest. A silver sword with rubies embedded in the hilt hung at his side. Harry leaned forward and the beak of a griffin carved into the picture frame cut his thumb. It swallowed the drop of blood and a spark ran across the painting, causing Godric to blink his eyes open. His right eye was a pale golden hazel. His left eye, in the middle of the scar, was gone. In its place was a polished round ruby.

"Hello? Who have we here? A descendant of mine, perhaps, coming to hear words of wisdom from his esteemed ancestor?" Godric's voice was gravelly and deep.

"Hello, sir. Er, you're Godric Gryffindor, right?"

"Quite right, my boy, quite right! I am the esteemed warrior-mage Godric Gryffindor, master of wand and blade, the Lionhearted, co-founder of Hogwarts! And who are you, my child?"

"I am the Lord Harry Potter, a descendant of yours many years lost from the name Gryffindor. I was unaware any of the founders had paintings, or if they did I thought they'd be at Hogwarts."

"Oh, we all had paintings. Though Salazar kept his locked in that creepy basilisk room. And poor Helga's was lost to a fire soon after her death. I don't know if she ever had a second frame made, so I'm unsure if she managed to survive. Say, if you're a relation of mine, you must be able to enter Rowena's Vault?"

"It's my next stop."

"Excellent! I don't know what it is about you my boy, but I like you. Recover my better half's painting, and let us speak as a family."

Even though Harry hated it when Dumbledore called him "my boy", he liked it when Godric did it. It may have been because Godric meant it, as it was a term of endearment to his centuries removed grandson. Shrinking the painting, Harry noticed the numerous swords and other sharp implements carved along the frame. He slid it in a different pocket than the paintings of his parents.

The Ravenclaw vault would have had Hermione gushing and having wet dreams for months afterwards. Bookcases as tall as the cavernous room were everywhere, forming little "rooms". There were a few wooden chests marked things like "gold", "jewelry", "clothing", and etcetera. It appeared that Rowena was a bit of a neat freak. Near the center of the vault was an easel holding a painting of… a library.

Seated at a desk was a sleeping witch. She was very pretty, with glossy black hair, high, proud features, and a smiling face even in sleep. Even wearing loose blue and bronze robes, Harry could tell she had a slim, graceful figure. Harry was thinking she was quite beautiful, when he remembered she was his countless great-s grandmother. Seeing a sharp raven's beak, Harry smeared his cut finger against it. Like Godric's painting, this caused Rowena's to wake. Her eyes were a deep violet blue, almost purple.

"Oh my head, how long have I been sleeping? Ah, an heir of mine! Hello little one, I am your I-have-no-idea-how-many-times-great-grandmother, Rowena. Who are you?"

Harry was expecting a stern, domineering woman, like Madame Pince. This woman was very friendly, with a lyrical voice that offset her husband's gravelly one.

"Hello Rowena, my name is Harry Potter. I recently came into my inheritance, and decided to take a look around my vaults. I am pleasantly surprised to find a painting of you."

"A pleasure to meet you, Harry. I hope that we will be leaving this dark and dreary vault soon? I haven't been outside since… um, what year is it?"


"Oh my! I haven't been outside since Helena brought me here in 1028. I have a lot to catch up on. Well, let's go! Do you already have Godric?"

"In my pocket."

"Splendid! Onward!"

Harry shrunk her painting and slipped it into the same pocket as his parents, since the only sharp piece of her frame was the raven, which had turned inwards after Rowena awoke.

Next stop was the Peverell vault. It was vault Number 1, the oldest in the bank. The door was covered in cobwebs when Harry touched the symbol of the Hallows on the metal. A large room made larger by the small amount of items in the vault, Harry took a quick peak around. A couple of sparse bookshelves held very old tomes, a few chests were filled with a couple pieces of parchment and magically preserved leather, and a number of cases of jewelry sparkled in the dim light.

As he went to leave Harry suddenly felt a strong pull towards one of the pieces of jewelry. A large ornate headdress, made out of silver and ivory standing around two feet tall. The centerpiece of the crown was a large ice-blue gemstone in the shape and size of a chicken's egg, held in place by seven silver pins. The pull was coming from the gem, so Harry pried it loose and placed it in his pocket. It felt colder than ice in his hand, and quickly numbed his leg where it rested against the fabric.

Taking the cart back to the surface Harry reentered Farbasher's office, where the goblin was waiting with the portkey, a dagger, which sat on his desk.

"Hello Lord Potter. Everything go well?"

Sensing an opportunity to get a little revenge, Harry casually started speaking.

"Mostly, though there was something… off about that goblin you sent me down with. He had this… really weird look in his eyes when he saw the Potter fortune. It looked like the look my cousin would get when he saw a younger kid with candy he was going to take."

"Hmm. I'll look into that, Lord Potter." Farbasher said, already thinking about relocating Griphook to dragon dung duty.

"Thank you, Farbasher. Is that the portkey?"

"Yes, the dagger will take you to the entry hall of St. Mungo's."

"Thank you for all your assistance Farbasher. Since I assume that the time of so many fine important members of the goblin nation isn't free, charge whatever the cost of today has been from the amount taken from Dumbledore's account, and deposit the rest in the Potter account. I also wish to have my trust vault reabsorbed into the Potter vault. Oh, and make sure that only I can access any of the four vaults. Okay?"

"It shall be done, Lord Potter. Is there any last business you need to conduct?"

"Oh, right. There was one other thing. Nearly slipped my mind." Harry chuckled, for it nearly had slipped his mind. "My source, who told me about Dumbledore, said to tell you that you should check a, um, what was it…" Harry pretended to think about the vault. "LeStrange vault for a whorecrix? Hoorcrax? I don't remember the name. He also called it a soul-jar, and that you would want to know. It's made from a cup Helga Hufflepuff owned."

Farbasher's face took on a new shade of red even Vernon never matched. He started roaring in Gobbledygook, before slamming his fist on a Gringotts seal on his desk. A swarm of armed goblins burst into the room, and Farbasher shouted directions at them. They looked as angry as he was when they left the room. Farbasher managed to reign in his temper some.

"Thank you for the tip, Lord Potter. You might be receiving an owl from us soon. Have a nice day." He managed to spit out from between his teeth.

Sensing that it would be a good idea to leave, Harry grabbed the dagger and felt the uncomfortable feeling of having a fishing hook catch behind his navel while the floor suddenly dissolved and he disappeared in a flash of color.

Picking himself up from his heap on the floor, Harry found himself in a white room with a number of chairs along the wall. A desk was set between two double-doors, and a nurse in white robes sat behind the desk.

"Can I help you young man?" The nurse asked hesitantly. Harry was only a kid, but the nurse could see the Lord rings on his finger, and could just tell that whatever that cloak was made of must be rare and expensive.

"Yes, I'd like an appointment with whoever can take a number of highly powerful and borderline dark blocks off of me. And someone who can take care of a scar of mine." Harry asked politely.

A few minutes waiting led to him speaking to Healer Gütbalm. After explaining that he was fairly sure he was being blocked of almost 90% of his magic, the healer cast a few diagnostic spells, and nearly fell off of his chair. He explained to Harry that he had sixteen blocks on his magic alone, and it was a miracle he wasn't a squib. There was a specialized block for animagus talents, a block on mental fortitude, and a block keeping his muscles from growing properly. According to Healer Gütbalm, all but the mildest of the magical blocks were placed at the same time by the same person, while the other was a standard block most parents put on abnormally talented children to keep them from damaging their cores by overextending themselves before they had better control.

Following the discussions of removing them, Harry found himself lying buck naked in the middle of three runic circles while a dozen St. Mungo's certified curse- and spell-breakers chanted around him. Following the mother of all headaches and a seizure as all of Harry's blocked magic decided to become intimately reacquainted with him, he asked about his now useless scar. A nurse took care of it with a dab of ointment and a muttered spell.

After paying for the treatments, Harry finally activated his Potter Manor portkey. With a cry of "Sanctuary", Harry left St. Mungo's to settle into his new home.

Albus Dumbledore strolled into Gringotts, trying to calm his racing mind. After a day of searching his room for the Elder Wand, Albus had come to a conclusion. If the Potter Cloak was the Cloak of True Invisibility, as he had been coming to suspect, then it may have returned to the Potter vaults as today was the Potter Heir's first day he could claim the vault. Being so close to another Hallow may have caused the Wand to be transported with it. All he had to do was enter the Potter vault and recover the cloak and wand, along with all the gold he could carry. He was also pretty sure James and Lily had a painting in the vault. That would have to go, couldn't have them talking to Harry. The boy might decide not to follow along with the plans. Entering the bank, Albus asked to speak with Farbasher immediately. Being led to the Potter account manager, Albus was slightly concerned when the goblin in question had a look of raw rage on his face, which immediately turned into a sickly grin upon seeing the aged wizard. When the door behind him closed with a click signaling it was now locked, Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class, Defeater of Grindelwald, Chief Warlock and the only man Voldemort ever feared, gulped loudly and fearfully.

A/N: Well that went well. As you can see, most of the changes were mainly cosmetic, and just served to round out the world a bit more, giving it some more backstory. I have also seamlessly connected every Harry Potter fanfiction universe together, so yay for me. (1) is still Harry Crow, by Robst. I think it's up to 630k+ words by now.

A few serious changes are: Death has family, the idea of the Instruments of Destiny, there's still five Horcruxes remaining since I thought Death destroying one for free was too easy, and I added some magical creature blood to Harry. I think that could be interesting, and it gives the bigots some more room for insults, since I can only think of so many for half-bloods that haven't been done before.

Also, this was really fun, the amount of galleons in the Gryffindor Vault is equal to Sir Paul McCartney's net worth, and the Ravenclaw Vault is J.K. Rowling's net worth.

Thanks for reading, and remember to drop a review.