Summary: When Harry and Ginny decide to go back in time, they use Kreacher as their willing sacrifice. Except, erasing Kreacher from existence changes more then they thought. Now Harry creates his own Dark Order while maneuvering around Death Eaters, Dumbledore, and a strangely sane Voldemort. DarkLord!Harry, Dark!Ginny. Eventual HP/DM.

Pairings: Harry/Draco; Ginny/?; Voldemort/?; Other Slash and Het Pairings; Past Harry/Ginny

Notes: Another time travel story because they are crack to me. Also, I wanted to write a darker story. Heed these warnings: torture, murder, character death, sadism (HP), and masochism (DM). Harry and Ginny aren't evil, but they definitely aren't nice.

"We could just take a male lover."

Harry shot Ginny a look. She smirked.

"We've talked about this, Gin. Our marriage vows are binding and I'm not in the mood to test if taking a third into our relationship would count as adultery."

"You're no fun."

"I'm rather fond of my magic, you know. I don't want to lose it."

"I'm rather fond of sex."

"I make sex for you good."

"Sure you do, but it's not right that you don't enjoy it."

"Since when have you been concerned for what's right?"

Ginny's honey-brown eyes darkened noticeably in response to the sudden spike of magic in the air. "I shouldn't be taking pleasure at my lord's expense."

Harry dropped the golden boy act that was second nature to him and adopted his true self. He stood from the blood-red armchair that he and Ginny had convinced their family was actually Gryffindor-red and stalked over to where his wife stood by the fireplace. She noticeably shivered as he curled one finger under her chin.

Not for the first time, he wondered if there was a spell or potion he could use to allow him to feel attraction for this beautiful witch in front of him. They'd tried lust potions and even minor love potions—but Harry's magic reacted badly to anything trying to control his will and so they never tried again.

"You do please me, Gin," he murmured. "You are my second and my best friend. My most loyal. I don't mind rewarding you for that when you desire it."

Ginny let out a soft breath. "Perhaps a golem then, my lord?"

Harry nodded slowly. He hadn't considered that before but… "Yes, that could work."

"And," Ginny purred. "If you got too rough with it, it would simply dissolve instead of crying to The Prophet."

Harry smirked much like Ginny had earlier. "And this is why you are my right-hand, dear Ginevra."

"Here I thought it was because you can't afford to create a following in case the harpies that call themselves journalists declare you a new Dark Lord."

"If only they knew."

Ginny laughed. Harry knew she was thinking of the ritual they'd done together last Samhain. He eagerly awaited Yule in just a few weeks. They hadn't yet decided what ritual they'd do for the spirits then, but he knew it would be just as glorious.

Harry moved away to the kitchen table. It was a deep mahogany, like most of the furniture in the renovated 12 Grimmauld Place. Molly often complained that the décor was too cold, but Ginny argued back that pine wouldn't match the feel of Grimmauld Place. Of course, then Molly would say they should just find a different house. Sometimes Harry wished he could just tell the nagging woman that both he and Ginny preferred the Dark feel of the old Black home, but that would bring on a slew of questions neither of them were prepared to answer.

The Daily Prophet sat on the kitchen table. Harry flipped through the first through pages. The information he was looking for was on the second page, halfway down.

"Good news?" Ginny asked.

Kreacher popped in before Harry could answer. "Is Master and Mistress be wanting breakfast?"

"Pancakes, Kreacher," Ginny said, her eyes still on Harry. Kreacher bowed and set about making them.

Harry sighed. "The bloody fools passed it."

Ginny sneered. "The rest of the wizarding world must be laughing at us."

"They should. We're destroying ourself." Harry sat down heavily. "This week, this ridiculous outlawing of blood wards, last week was the restriction of all books talking about the Olde Ways even just in passing. We're destroying our ability to do magic."

"Most of the Dark pureblood families that survived the incarceration after Voldemort's defeat fled the country years ago. The magical creatures are leaving in waves. Hogwarts hasn't had a pureblood student enroll since they passed the New Blood Act."

"Even the smarter halfbloods and muggleborns are going to Beauxbatons," Harry reminded her. "More would, if the Ministry didn't prevent them from getting the information about how low Hogwarts' scores are internationally."

"We could leave," Ginny said. "I know my parents would be upset, but sod them."

"Gin…" Harry sighed. He rolled up the newspaper as Kreacher set the plate of pancakes in front of him along with a steaming mug of coffee. He thanked the house elf absentmindedly. Ginny sat down across from him, neatly cutting into her own breakfast.

"Look, Bill and Fleur live in France so that their kids can go to school without having to be registered as creatures." Ginny scoffed. "Which is doubly ridiculous since Victorie, Dominique, and Louis are only one-sixteenth veela."

"Teddy lives with them too," Harry added. "Since the Ministry refused to allow anyone with even a hint of werewolf in them to attend Hogwarts."

"So it wouldn't be too strange for you to say you want to live near to your godson before he graduates."

Harry groaned. "That's only in a couple years, isn't it? Merlin."

Ginny snorted. "Yes, Harry, you turned thirty-three this year."

"That makes you thirty-two."


"Merlin's balls."


"You told your mom we'd start having kids before you turned thirty-five."

Ginny scowled. "I did, didn't I? No wonder she's been bothering me about adding a nursery lately."

Harry chewed slowly for a moment, thinking. He let his real self come to the forefront again as he studied his wife. "I know you don't want children."

Ginny set her silverware down carefully. "You know I'll carry as many children as you want, my lord."

"I don't want any child of mine to grow up in a world where they can't openly practice the Olde Ways. Your magical core is Grey, but mine is Dark. Any child of ours won't be born with a Light core."

"And if they don't learn how to harness that Darkness, it will consume them and twist them into something they're not."

"The highest rates of suicide among the wizarding world are with naturally Light or Dark wizards who for whatever reason don't or can't practice their magic as was designed for them." Harry sighed. "I've long suspected the only reason I willingly walked to my death at the end of Voldemort's wand was because of that."

"It's the reason Remus was depressed his whole life."

"And the reason Sirius was borderline insane."

"Fucking Dumbledore."

Harry huffed. "Indeed. That man hurt so many people for his greater good. Some days I wish I could go back in time just so I could be the one to kill him."

Ginny laughed, but there was something in her eyes.

Harry stared at her evenly. "What is on your mind?"

Ginny knew better than to refuse to answer him, so when she hesitated he was concerned. Instead of saying anything aloud, Ginny pulled down the corner of her robe so that they both could see the black rose tattooed to her right shoulder. The border was inked with a glittering ruby red. She stared at it for a moment.

"Tell me," Harry commanded and Ginny's mark flashed a sudden red in response to his order.

"I'm the only one you've allowed yourself to mark like this," Ginny murmured. "You are my lord. You have been since I was eleven."

"Riddle was your lord when you were eleven," Harry reminded her.

"Tom showed me the true Grey nature of my magic," Ginny agreed. "And if things had been different, I might have followed him, but you won my loyalty by right of combat when you killed him. I don't wish to be his, Harry. I haven't since I was very young."

"Where is this going?"

Ginny met his eyes evenly. "Our wizarding society is destroying itself. By 2050, I doubt there will be any magic left on the British Isles. The magical world as a whole will survive, of course. Only Australia and Canada are following Britain's example on prosecuting Dark magic and the Olde Ways."

"I'm well aware."

"What if there was a way to change that, my lord?"

Harry sat back. "What are you suggesting?"

"There's a ritual. Very Dark, of course. I came across it the other day. I dismissed it at first, but I keep thinking about it." She bit her bottom lip briefly. "It's a time ritual."

"Those are dangerous, Gin."

"I know. But… I think it's doable. We can go back, Harry. We can destroy Dumbledore and help create a truly balanced magical society here."

"What's your real reason for wanting this?" Harry asked evenly. Ginny flinched just slightly. "Neither of us are so attached to Britain that we can't move somewhere else in the world. I've considered creating aliases and joining the Dark society in Russia. We both lost people we care about, but that's war. So tell me, Gin, what are you actually thinking?"

Ginny looked down. "It would dissolve our marriage bond."

Harry let out a startled breath. "Gin."

"I'll do anything for you, my lord," Ginny stated. She looked up again, her eyes flashing. "Your happiness is the most important thing to me. If you wanted me to slaughter my entire family, you know I would do so willingly just to see you honestly pleased. You hate our marriage."

"I don't hate being married to you, Gin," Harry told her. He was honestly stunned. He hadn't realized she was holding this much inside even ten years after they first took their vows. "If I had to chose a woman to marry, you were and remain my first choice."

"But my family and the Ministry and our stupid society forced you to marry a woman. You would have been happier in a relationship with Ron, for Morgana's sake!"

"I'm not sure I would have," Harry murmured. "Ron is staunchly Light."

"But at least he has a prick."


Ginny settled down, flushing just slightly. "I apologize."

Harry reached forward and lightly touched the mark on Ginny's shoulder. She shivered in response to the zap of magic. He sat back. "We don't have to do this. The golem idea is a good one. It would keep me satisfied."

"It's not the same."

"Listen to me." The reprimand was enough for Ginny to full attend to his words. "The only reason I'm considering this is that it's not fair to you. No, don't speak. You are my most loyal and I am not Voldemort where I command by fear only. You deserve a man who can worship you as you deserve to be."

"And you deserve a man who will kneel at your feet and never want to be anywhere else," Ginny murmured.

Harry wanted to sigh, but a part of him was pleased by his lone follower's devotion. "Perhaps," he settled for. "Tell me how this ritual works."

"We have to do it on the eve of Yule. It's a full moon this year, which is the only reason I think it might actually work. We'd need unicorn blood freely given and vampire ashes taken by force."

"What else?"

"It requires a willing sacrifice," Ginny said. "The sacrifice's existence gets wiped from the timeline."

"That's how it functions, then," Harry said. "It creates an alternate dimension."


"Who would be the willing sacrifice then?" Harry began, and then scowled as he noticed the look in Ginny's eyes. "No. I refuse. If I'm doing this, you'll be by my side, Gin."

"But my sacrifice would be the easiest. If we go back to before you got your Hogwarts letter, then me not having ever existed won't affect anything big."

"There are others we can have do this that will have equally small impacts," Harry growled. "I am not losing my only loyal follower."

"You'll get more. That's the point."

"I said no, Gin. Don't argue with me."

Ginny pouted, but said nothing more. Kreacher snapped his fingers and their empty dishes disappeared, but the house elf stayed in the room. Harry turned his gaze to him. "Yes, Kreacher?"

"If Master Harry is needing a willing sacrifice, Kreacher be wanting to help."

"What do you mean?"

"Kreacher be willing," the house elf said promptly.

"Perfect!" Ginny said, but Harry shook his head.

"Though I appreciate the sentimentality, Kreacher, we can't erase your presence. Who knows how that would affect the Black family?"

"They be having Wretcher," Kreacher said.


"Wretcher be Kreacher's brother. Old mistress tell us to fight. Only need one house elf, she said, so must have strongest."

"Walburga was insane," Ginny muttered. "It's not like it's a hassle to be bonded to two elves."

"You killed your brother?" Harry asked, no judgment in his voice.

Kreacher nodded, his ears drooping just slightly. "Kreacher was stronger, yes. But if I not there, Wretcher serve family well. He be twin me."

"See, Harry," Ginny said, obviously excited. "It's perfect!"

Harry frowned. He had a bad feeling about this, but it was faint and the majority of him was warming up to the idea. "Are you sure you don't mind, Kreacher?"

"I is sure, Master Harry."

Harry nodded. "Well, seems like I'm out numbered. Ginny, you'll have more luck getting willing unicorn blood. They're too Light to listen to me. Maybe you can get one of your brothers to help you."

Ginny's eyes sparkled and that was enough to let Harry know he was making the right choice. "You won't regret it, Harry."

"I hope not." Harry stood and stretched. "Seems I have to go vampire hunting."

"Have fun."

He let a cruel smirk slide over his face. "You know I plan to."


They did the ritual in Stonehenge. It was one of the most powerful Olde magic ritual circles in the world. The fact that the Ministry had done away with the Muggle repelling charms on it around a century ago remained one of the tragedies of the modern British wizarding world. The fools seemed to think that all the Olde Ways were Dark when in reality the world of magic lived to be in balance and there were just as many Light and Grey rituals as there were Dark ones.

Still, the ritual Harry and Ginny were about to do was definitely Dark in nature. Most rituals requiring sacrifices, willing or not, were.

The necessary runes were already laid out and the magic held within Stonehenge's rocks hummed with power. Ginny walked in a perfect circle just outside the stones, dripping a silver line of unicorn blood. Harry spread the vampire ash inside the circle, making sure it was evenly spaced across the grass. Kreacher stood within the smallest circle of runes, wringing his hands. He wore his best tea towel.

Ginny finished the circle and walked forward. She slowly drew an infinity knot on Kreacher's head with the unicorn blood. Harry took her place a moment later and sprinkled the vampire ash over the house elf. Both of them stepped back and began chanting.

The ancient Gaelic didn't fall easily from Harry's lips, but he and Ginny had both practiced for the past few weeks to get this ritual right. When Harry set about doing something, he put his full self into it. He had no more doubts about going back, because to have doubts at this point would ruin the ritual. Instead, he focused on all the good he could do. At least, good in the sense of saving the magic inside the British Isles. He was sure Dumbles wouldn't agree with his version of the greater good, but Harry hardly cared for the opinion of the man who manipulated him and caused him to attempt assisted suicide.

The power inside Stonehenge surged. Ginny kept chanting as Harry pulled out his long ritual knife and approached Kreacher. His house elf gave him a crooked smile. Harry smiled back and then cut off Kreacher's head with a single slice.

The surroundings outside the ritual circle warped and blurred. The whole word seemed to spin. Harry rejoined the chanting. He met Ginny's eyes and together their voices rose into almost shouts. The spinning grew more and more intense. Harry used the ritual knife to cut a thick slice into his left arm. He handed the knife to Ginny for her to copy him. His blood sank into the earth below. Ginny's joined his a moment later.

The spinning reversed direction. Harry felt the wind inside the circle still and the very air became almost suffocating. He gasped out more ritual words. Ginny struggled more than him. Harry tried to give her some of his magic through her mark, but he found the bond completely gone.

It was working. Harry saw as before his eyes Ginny began to shrink and deage. He felt his own body cringe in on itself. To their right, Kreacher's dead body began to dissolve entirely.

The magic reached its crescendo. Harry and Ginny shouted the last words of the ritual and then in a blinding flash of darkness—they both vanished.


Harry woke to Aunt Petunia rapping on the door to his cupboard. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming—but it had never taken him long to assimilate memories in the morning and in the time it took Petunia to finishing say "Up!" he'd remembered everything.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia!" Harry yelled. He slid off his ragged cot and opened the door. His aunt was already walking up the stairs to go wake his fat lump of a cousin for breakfast. Harry let himself sneer.

He started making breakfast for his family if only because he wasn't yet sure what he wanted to do. He wasn't staying in this ugly house long, that was for sure.

"You better be making a special Christmas breakfast, boy," Vernon said as he wandered into the kitchen with the day's newspaper.

Harry looked at the date on the paper. December 25th, 1990.

It had worked, then. He must have landed in his younger body late last night and slept through it. He wasn't surprised. He still felt magically exhausted from the ritual—though that was also possibly because of how malnourished this ten-year-old body was.

If he wanted to wait, he'd have another six months or so until he got his Hogwarts letter. Harry wasn't even honestly considering it. He would not be going back to Hogwarts. It was one of the things he and Ginny had talked about in the weeks leading up to the ritual. She'd go to Hogwarts if only because she had to, plus it would allow her to carefully recruit people into Harry's Dark Order. Harry, on the other hand, was not going to allow himself to be under Dumbledore's thumb. He wanted to throw a screw in the old man's plans.

It had been years since Harry had lived with the Dursleys, but he still remembered what they expected for Christmas morning. He'd been cooking said breakfast since he was six, after all.

He watched as the three dug into the feast he made. He felt for the anger he expected, but it just wasn't there. He hadn't thought about the Dursleys in so long. He couldn't find it in himself to care about them one way or another. There were certainly others in the world he longed to torture to this day—Dolores Umbridge among them—but the Dursleys weren't worth it. They were frankly too unimportant. They may have made his childhood a hell, but they never beat him. The emotional abuse and neglect was bad enough, of course, but he'd gotten over that mentally before he'd turned twenty.

Harry wondered briefly if the apathy he felt towards his supposed family was healthy. Probably not, he decided, but then he couldn't care enough to be worried about that. He'd known since he was fifteen that he was screwed in the head, in more ways than one.

Regardless, the Dursleys would have to die. It was too risky for them to survive. He was leaving, but he figured it'd be best if the magical world thought he was dead—at least for a little while.

A gas pipe explosion would do. If it were hot enough, the wizarding world would have trouble distinguishing between the bones to know if there were four bodies instead of three. He'd remove all the traces on his body at the same moment, making it seem like he was dead to Dumbledore's tracking instruments.

"Merry Christmas," Harry murmured. The Dursleys all looked at him, varying expressions of disgust and disinterest on their faces.

Harry ignored them, concentrating. He was magically drained at the moment, but he always would be while living at the Dursleys. Luckily, it was Yule day. All he had to do was feel for the ambient magic that was always so bright around the winter solstice and use that.

The kitchen went up in a blinding flash of light.

The sudden fire obliterated the house in minutes. Harry apparated away and watched from down the street as the fire spread slowly to the surrounding houses. The other muggles began to scream. It was late enough that most everyone was awake, so he doubted anyone else would die unless they were too stupid to get out of their house fast.

Harry turned as Mrs. Figg ran out of her house, staring in horror at what once was 4 Privet Drive. He smirked and then apparated away before the old squib could call Dumbledore.

He appeared on the steps of Gringotts. The bank never closed, even on Yule, so he wasn't worried about that. He transfigured his baggy pants into a full robe and his shirt into a cloak with a deep hood. He pulled the hood up and headed inside the bank. There was no one there—not surprising considering the day, so a goblin teller was able to assist him immediately.

"Yule day greetings," Harry said. He grimaced, hating how high-pitched his ten-year-old voice was. "I would like to make an appointment with my estate manager. Today, if he is available."

The goblin nodded, though his eyes were shrewd. "Name?"

"Harry Potter."

The goblin's eyes widened just slightly. "Your estate manager is Roldenbek. I will see if he is available."

"I would be most grateful," Harry said.

The goblin nodded once and left. Harry only had to wait ten minutes before the teller was hurrying back with Harry's estate manager. Harry knew the older goblin in the other time, but he didn't let that show on his face as Roldenbek greeted him and walked him back to a modest-sized office.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Potter, I must be assured of your identity," Roldenbek said. He pushed forward a scroll and a blood quill. "All you have to do is write your name. No ink necessary."

Harry knew blood quills were goblin inventions and quite useful for banking purposes, but he still hated them. Umbridge was definitely going to die. It was exciting that, despite the fact he'll have to start from scratch on nourishing this scrawny body, the only scars he had were his lightning bolt and a couple burn marks from cooking.

The blood quill did its job and in a flash the scroll accepted Harry as the last remaining Potter. Roldenbek rolled it up and set it aside. "Where is your guardian, Mr. Potter?"

"My muggle or magical?" Harry asked, settling back in his chair.

Roldenbek raised a non-existent eyebrow. "Either."

"I wish to be emancipated," Harry said. "My muggle guardians are dead and my magical guardian likely thinks I am as well."

The thing Harry loved about goblins was they honestly didn't give a fuck. As long as the most profitable client wanted them to do something, they could care less about human ethics or Ministry law. "I assume you wish to do a magical emancipation, not a Ministry one."


Roldenbek nodded. "The easiest way to do so would be for you to attempt to put one of your Lord rings. Of course, the Ministry would have no record of it unless you registered it with them."

Harry knew that already, but he had no plans on registering. At least, not as Harry Potter. Good thing his full name was actually Harrigan James Peverell-Potter, just as his father's had actually been James Charlus Peverell-Potter, and his grandfather's had been Charles Jacobus Peverell-Potter.

The Potter family had ignored the Peverell part of their lineage for generations because the Peverell family has always been Dark in nature. After all, the three brothers had been necromancers of a fashion.

Nearly all muggleborns were born with Grey cores, Harry's mother among them, and no Potter has ever been born with a pure Light core since they intermarried with the Peverells so it wasn't surprising that Harry had a Dark core. He figured it was high time to embrace that.

"I wish to claim Lordship of the Peverell line first," Harry said.

Roldenbek's eyes flashed in surprise. "You know quite a lot for a ten-year-old, Mr. Potter."

Harry said nothing and Roldenbek walked over to the highly protected magical trunk where all the awaiting lord and heir rings that he was charged with were kept. The goblin pulled out a smaller box with Harry's full name engraved on top. He brought the box to the desk and set it in front of Harry before opening it.

There were four rings laid on a velvet cushion. Harry recognized all of them, because he'd taught himself to recognize all the family crests in wizarding Britain and even the larger magical community, but they weren't quite the same as had been available to him when he'd come to claim his Lordship at twenty-one.

Harry reached forward and picked up the largest ring. The Peverell crest was actually the Deathly Hallows symbol. Only a descendant of the Peverell line could ever become the Master of Death. Since the only two left were Harry and Voldemort, he figured he had a good chance of becoming it again—if he wanted to be so. He knew that, at the very least, he wanted to claim the Elder Wand from Dumbledore. The old fool hardly deserved that wand.

He slipped the lord ring onto the index finger of his right hand, as was appropriate for such a powerful Lord ring. Immediately the Dark magic surged through his being, testing him with such intensity that his frail body nearly seized. Harry's adult magic calmed the ring's power down, though, and with a dark glitter the ring resized and settled onto his finger.

Roldenbek was practically gaping. Harry smirked and the goblin got a hold of himself. "Is that all you wish to claim today, Lord Peverell?"

Harry considered the other rings. If he claimed the two heir rings, the Lords would be notified immediately. Harry blinked, just now realizing that the ring he'd initially thought was the Black heir ring wasn't. "What's that one?"

Roldenbek looked at the smaller ring, it's crest that of a stylized serpent. "The Slytherin heir ring, Lord Peverell."

Harry nodded. The Black crest had a raven on it. He supposed the only reason he'd though the two were the same was because he'd expected the Black ring to be here. After all, Sirius was his godfather and even in prison he was the rightful Lord Black. Since Sirius had no sons, the Black heir ring was supposed to go to Harry—but the ring wasn't on the cushion.

In his old time, he'd been able to claim the Lord rings for the Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Black lines. The other heir ring was indeed the Gryffindor one. Dumbledore wore the Lord ring for that line, which is one of the reasons he was made Harry's magical guardian upon Sirius' imprisonment.

Harry knew he'd been able to claim the Slytherin Lord ring because of the fact that he'd killed the last of the line and by right of magic that had transferred the lineage to him. Similarly, though not the same, Dumbledore had the Gryffindor Lord ring because he'd won it in a hushed-up duel with Harry's grandfather. Headmasters or mistresses couldn't interact with the Hogwarts' wards unless they were the Lord or Lady of one of the Founders' lines.

So, was the Slytherin heir ring available to him because of his temporary defeat of Voldemort? It made sense, he supposed. Lineage magic was strange in that way.

The goblins had to know Voldemort wasn't dead, Harry realized. Not that it mattered—they had always been neutral in the war, but it was interesting that they never said anything.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Where's the Black heir ring?"

Roldenbek looked honestly confused for a moment. "Sirius Black still wears it. He will continue to wear it unless Lord Black officially disowns him."

"Lord Black?" Harry's mind raced. Was Orion Black still alive? He was supposed to have died in 1979. Did Wretcher's presence over Kreacher's prolong his life somehow?

"Lord Regulus Black, yes. Interesting business, of course, since Sirius is the older brother, but the old Lady Black officially named Regulus the next Lord in her will and the ring accepted him. Now, I'm not sure you'll ever be getting the Black heir ring, Lord Peverell, for even if Lord Black takes the heir ring from his brother, I hear he's close with young Draco Malfoy and the boy has just as much a blood tie to the Black family as you do through your grandmother."

"Oh." Harry let all that assimilate for a moment. After he left Gringotts, he'd freak out about Regulus still being alive, but he couldn't do that in front of the sharp-minded goblin. "That's fine then."

"The other rings, Lord Peverell?"

"Right." Harry looked at them again. He was definitely going to hold off on the Gryffindor and Potter ones, at least until he was of age, but the Slytherin one interested him. Wearing that ring would allow him some—minimal but some—control over the Hogwarts' wards and magic. He figured that might be useful in the future, so without further ado he reached for the ring and slipped it onto his right ring finger.

The seductive magic of the Slytherin family slid over him. It didn't do nearly as much of an invasive search, just a light sort of prodding at Harry's scar, and then it settled down.

"That's all for now," Harry said. "I have access to the Peverell vault and my Potter trust vault, correct?"

"Yes, Lord Peverell," Roldenbek said. "The main Potter vault will be closed to you until you reach your majority or claim that Lordship, of course, and the main Slytherin vault is closed to you unless Lord Slytherin gives permission."

Harry felt a flash of foreboding and frowned. "Where is Lord Slytherin now?" He figured the goblin would shrug—hoped the goblin would shrug, but the foreboding grew stronger as the goblin just frowned.

"I have no specifics as I am not the Slytherin estate manager, but I believe he renovated the old Gaunt manor a few years ago. You may be able to floo call him, as you are his heir."

Voldemort was still alive. At least, probably. Harry had no confirmation that this Lord Slytherin was indeed Tom Marvolo Riddle, but it seemed most likely. How in Merlin's name did Kreacher's non-existence inadvertently cause this?

Harry looked down at his Peverell Lord ring. By right of age, any Gaunt had more claim to the Peverell line since they descended from the eldest Peverell, Cadmus. Still, Harry knew from talking to the portraits in the Peverell account that since Ignotus was the last to die, he was also the one who'd been Lord Peverell and had passed down that title through his line, not his brother's line. If Harry were to die, then Voldemort would be the next in line to be Lord Peverell, but as of right now he was probably only able to claim the Peverell heir ring. Harry wondered if he had.

The ring responded to his mental question, as Lord rings were wont to do, and sent back a tiny jolt of affirmation. Harry let out a deep breath. So he was Lord Slytherin's heir, but Lord Slytherin was his heir. How… interesting.

Harry closed his eyes briefly and then cleared his mind. He had a lot to think on later.

"I want a bag which draws straight from my trust vault," Harry said. "I also want any other trust vault keys in existence to become void. Statements for both the Peverell and Potter funds should be sent directly to me, under the name Harrigan Peverell."

"Of course, Lord Peverell," Roldenbek said, making a note. "The endless bag will cost you ten galleons."

"Take it directly from my account," Harry said easily. Roldenbek handed him the bag and he stuck it in the inside pocket of his transfigured robe. "Now, I want a couple items from my Peverell vault. Has my previous magical guardian withdrawn anything from that vault?"


Harry nodded. According to the portraits, Dumbledore had taken the Peverell invisibility cloak straight from the account Harry's first year at Hogwarts. It was allowed for magical guardians to withdraw select items from their ward's vaults, so it had been legal, but it still made Harry angry thinking about it.

The trip to the Peverell vault was short. The Peverell family was one of the oldest still in existence and one of the first to make an account with Gringotts. The vault was number three, which Harry found oddly appropriate.

He didn't wake any of the sleeping portraits in the vault as he grabbed both the invisibility cloak and the full set of magical seals with the Peverell crest. In the corner was a set of wands. In his old timeline, Harry had found that the wand of Ignotus Peverell was a near perfect match for him. He'd used it as a secondary wand and he would do the same now. It was especially useful to have it since he didn't want to have to deal with the brother wands issue with Voldemort if he needed to take the man down.

Merlin, what to do about Voldemort? It was much easier to plan when he and Ginny had already figured him to a be a lost cause, but if Voldemort was functional enough that the Slytherin Lord ring had accepted him, he wasn't he same Voldemort as from their old time.

Harry left Gringotts just a little while later and headed first to Knockturn Alley. He knew of a shop that sold a number of illegal potions and until he had a place in which to brew his own aging potion, he'd have to deal with that. It was easy enough for Harry to buy a dozen aging potions. They lasted a full twenty-four hours, so as long as he remembered to take them before he went to bed every day, he was set.

He set the aging potion to only age him ten years. He didn't want to take the potions forever and it would be far less strange for him to seem un-aging for the next ten years until he could stop taking them when this physical body was twenty. Wizards lived for up to two hundred years, sometimes, and Ignotus' Peverell line was especially long-lived when it came to natural aging, so it wouldn't be too weird for Harrigan Peverell to have such a quirk.

Even in his old life, Harry had looked more like a twenty-year-old at thirty then most. Ginny always used to complain about it. Now, she'd probably complain about being stuck in a nine-year-old's body while he was allowed to make himself seem the adult he actually was.

Next stop was Twilfit and Tattings for a full wardrobe fit for a Lord. Harry had them make all the robes just slightly bigger than he needed. Even with the aging potion, his current body was too skinny and he planned to fix that soon. A daily dose of nutrient potions and a few healing trances would do the trick. Harry wore one of his new sets of robes out and set about to get his eyesight fixed. He then got some beauty potions, usually for covering acne, to conceal his scar. He grew his hair out a bit so that the bangs would be an extra coverage while the rest of his hair he tied back in a short ponytail.

Harry headed to Ollivander's then to get his Holly wand. The man was behind the desk when he opened the door. Harry rested his hands on the outside of his robe, clearly showing off the Lord ring.

"What can I do for you, Lord Peverell?" Ollivander asked, his misty eyes sharp.

"I am in need of a new wand," Harry stated.

It was easy enough after that for Ollivander to busy himself with trying to find Harry a wand. The man tried several times to engage Harry in conversation, but Harry brushed it away every time.

Finally, Ollivander hesitantly walked up to him with a familiar wand box in hand. Harry smiled and let the humming of his Holly and Phoenix Feather wand consume him. He picked the wand off and a shower of black and silver sparks jumped through the air.

"Curious," Ollivander murmured.

"Oh?" Harry asked.

Ollivander frowned, glancing at the Slytherin heir ring. "The phoenix who's feather is in your wand gave but one other feather. Your wand's brother—"

"Is Lord Slytherin?" Harry asked, wondering if this was the proof he needed.

Ollivander neither denied nor affirmed. Harry supposed that was safe, considering the man would know that Lord Voldemort had held that same wand and if Lord Slytherin was pretending not to have been Voldemort... Harry really needed to figure that all out. He left Ollivander's after paying seven galleons.

He bought Hedwig next. The beautiful snowy owl took one look at him and landed on his shoulder. Harry found himself relaxing as she preened his hair. His owl always was too smart for her own good and she not doubt felt the tattered ends of the familiar bond they'd had before her death had snapped it. He figured the bond would be back by the end of the week. And this time, he wouldn't let Hedwig die. He bought a semi-illegal amulet to place around her neck that would protect her from mishandling and most curses. She could still be hit by the killing curse, but Harry knew she could dodge out of the way of one of those ninety-percent of the time.

Last on his list was a multi-purpose trunk complete with a full potions' set, enough ink, parchment, and quills to last him the year, and other miscellaneous items he might need.

That done, Harry tried to think of where he could go. He'd planned on fixing up Grimmauld Place again, but if Regulus was alive then he undoubtedly lived there and beside Harry wouldn't be allowed into the wards without the Black heir ring. Harry frowned, rubbing his thumb over his Peverell ring. In his old time, the Peverell Manor had been destroyed before he'd learned of its existence. He'd always suspected Dumbledore's involvement in that. The old coot knew Harry's core was naturally Dark, after all, and had wanted to erase all traces of the Dark side of Harry's family.

Could it be Dumbledore hadn't gotten around to that yet?

Harry apparated just outside the Peverell gates. He grinned for the first time since coming back in time. The Manor still stood; it's dark stone reverberating with old Dark magic.

There were barely any wards left around the manor's grounds. Harry could see how Dumbledore had been able to destroy the place if this amount of protection was all he'd had to deal with. Harry stepped forward and the gates opened for him easily, the magic recognizing that he was now its Lord.

Harry walked up to the front door of the manor and through that into the front hallway. It was far less dusty then he'd imagined it would be. He wondered how.

There were several pops and Harry got his answer. The house elves all bowed. They all wore black tea towels with the Peverell crest on the front. Most of the crests were in white, but one had it in silver. This was the head elf, then. Harry turned to that one. "Your name?"

"Belby, Master," the elf said. "We is pleased and surprised that a Master has come to visit us."

"I've come to do more than visit, Belby. I'll be making this manor my home. I'm pleased that you all have kept up with its maintenance." Inwardly, Harry was seething at the thought of Dumbledore killing these five elves along with the manor. He'd be creating new wards as soon as he had the magical build up to manage the magic for it.

It was easy enough after that for Belby to show him around the manor. It wasn't the largest of manors, certainly not like Malfoy Manor, and Harry was quite pleased with it. There were three floors above ground and one below. There was also a separate owlery and barn. Harry had never owned horses or any of the mythical counterparts like pegasi, but he could see himself indulging in one some day. Any animal that flew and would let him ride it was a animal worth having, in Harry's mind.

The master bedroom sat on the top floor of the manor in the family wing. It had rosewood furniture, like the rest of house, which pleased Harry even more than the mahogany of Grimmauld Place had.

Harry set about informing one of the house elves, Doily, to collect his wardrobe from Twilfit and Tattings and then sat down to write a quick letter to Ginny, explaining the situation and giving her the apparition coordinates for the Manor to come when she could get away from her family. He called Hedwig over and handed her the letter.

"Make sure to give this to Ginny Weasley only when no one else is watching," Harry informed his beautiful snowy owl. "And wait for a reply, please."

Hedwig hooted and flew off into the sunset.

Harry watched the sun go down for a moment. He was exhausted. It had been a long Yule day and he still hadn't had time to truly think over the Voldemort and Regulus situation, but his eyes refused to stay open.

Harry shed his clothes and slid under the beautifully-embrodiered down comforter. He was asleep between one breath and the next.