Chapter 811 - Ch: 5-7

Chapter 5: The Second RitualNotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter TextAfter two weeks of fear and panic, the wizards of Britain rejoiced. Harry Potter, the Man-Who-Won, had come home. The Dragon had been slain on an island hidden by an endless tempest, and would never again threaten the world.

Within the halls of the Ministry, flanked by Minister for Magic Hermione Granger (no longer Weasley as she insisted), he gave a brief but frightening overview of the Dragon and its sheer unstoppable power. A monster whose tail struck like a thousand thunderbolts, whose wings carried the power of hurricanes, and whose breath meant death. Those present held onto every word, every detail as presented by their hero, backed up by the Minister, eager to recreate the story for their loyal readers and listeners.

Of course, some reporters asked questions like HOW he had done it, and what kind of spells did he use. To which Harry would regularly reply that the spells came straight from the Potter Family Grimoire. That wasn't the most satisfying of answers, but those who had studied the History of Wizarding Britain other than the Goblin Rebellions knew better than to press. They had read stories of the powerful wizards and witches the Potter family had produced, in direct defiance of old pure-blood prejudices.

For a select few, it was an obvious, but carefully constructed lie. One meant to assuage fears and kindle hopes, in such a manner that no one would feel inclined to investigate further. Those few were Harry Potter himself, along with Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Silas Bonewraith, and Rita Skeeter. Astoundingly, Rita herself had been disturbingly quiet during the initial announcements. Everything she had written had been unusually flattering to Hermione, and Harry in particular.

For Hermione, this was an uncomfortable situation. She knew Rita would come calling, with questions regarding Harry's victory over the monster that reduced an entire country to ash. The ICW and governments across the world would have similar questions. As far as the Muggle government go, she'd pulled some strings with the Prime Minister: the Royal Navy and Royal Air Force would execute some maneuvers northwest of Scotland, offering plausible claims to the dragon's demise. Any remains had been quickly torn apart by a legion of hungry sharks, and what was leftover was swept away in the ocean currents.

That had been enough for the Muggles, though the ICW would be another matter. They were satisfied, mostly, by her claims regarding the dragon's death. They were more interested in what she intended to do regarding the near-total collapse of the Statute of Secrecy. The ICW was something of a lumbering beast, but threats to the Statute got it moving into high gear. And a massive rampaging dragon reducing a country to ash, even if it was North Korea, definitely constituted a threat.

Right now her best bet with them was to convince them to let this one slide as an "Accepted Anomaly". They'd done it before, primarily with stories of haunted houses and other abandoned buildings that found their way onto the internet. The scientific community was already buzzing with theories on the evolutionary origins of the dragon. Maybe point them in one direction or the other to convince them of the non-magical nature of such a creature.

If she ever managed to pull that off, it'd be the biggest miracle since the crucifixion.

Thank God Silas had already proffered a solution to the potential demand for memories. Creating altered memories was difficult, and they could be detected. But Silas was certain he could create a doctored memory authentic enough to pass inspections. One that provided the grand epic the people were expecting.

For Minerva and Filius, it had been a harrowing experience. They had seen one of their former students transformed into a monster by years of anger and pain, fueled by betrayals. Harry and Hermione had been silent as to what had caused the transformation, but within a week after, they were confident they had the pieces. Something had happened to the 'Golden Trio', something Ron had done, likely at the behest of his mother.

When the two professors remembered Molly was a Potions Mistress, it all added up. Molly had potioned Hermione, and possibly Harry too. Somehow the ritual Harry completed unlocked memories of the potions, and Hermione had uncovered it herself in the intervening weeks.

It was no wonder both of them had little to say regarding the deaths of Molly and Ron. In fact, Harry had barely said a word since coming back. Oh, he'd answered questions when asked. He'd given the required interviews, though people noted his answers were short, and to the point. His wife was still in the hospital, and would apparently be there for another month before being released. No one had been allowed to sit in on their talk, though the healers did note that Ginny seemed... relieved in the aftermath.

His children were another matter. They were thrilled to have their father back, and now he was an even bigger hero than before. James and Albus were rather proud of their dad, the mighty dragon slayer, though Lily would always give him an extra-long hug, sensing that not all was right with their heroic father.

Then, of course, there were the Weasleys. Charlie had sent over a dozen letters thanking him for avenging Ron and Molly, though his letters did always pester him with questions about what facing the dragon was like. Bill and George all but adopted him as their newest brother, while Fleur and Angelina doted on him in similar ways. Gabrielle had travelled from France to help with Harry and Hermione's children. Even Percy treated him with a measure of respect, and even reverence, that he had never expected.

Arthur himself was devastated by the destruction of a home that held so many memories, but that loss paled in comparison to the loss of his wife and youngest son. He put on a brave face, but it was clear he was hurting. And as much as Harry had come to despise Molly and Ron, he couldn't help but feel guilty for Arthur. For as long as he had known him, Arthur had always been a decent man. He practically embodied the magical version of Merrie England, content with his life, and grateful for the joy his family brought him.

And so much of it had been torn away. It wasn't his fault though. He was collateral damage. Molly and Ron bore the brunt of guilt, and they had received their comeuppance.

And then, there was Dumbledore. Just thinking of the man he once looked up to like a grandfather and mentor set his blood boiling as the Dragon roared in rage, demanding release. Every pain he had suffered, every misery he endured, every strike against him could all be traced to one man: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. And worst of all, the man was DEAD. He was dead, and his legacy had been all but secured. True, Rita Skeeter's writings had put cracks in the facade he had built, but that wasn't enough.

It would NEVER be ENOUGH.

Because of this, and the need to keep the monster inside him in check, he'd been withdrawn. He'd returned to work, but his Aurors noticed he wasn't himself anymore. He was still as determined as ever to catch criminals and went at it with gusto, but something had changed. He was quieter, barely offering a word to anyone, while his temper seemingly spiked out of nowhere. Then he'd pull himself in and avoid people for the rest of the day.

They all assumed it was some manner of trauma from his hunt for the Dragon. Those who saw the images of a country in flames could hardly blame him. More than a few nightmares were had because of the news reports. And they had been 'safe' at home, while Harry was in the thick of it. It had taken some doing, but they'd convinced him to see a Mind Healer, to try and mitigate some of the worst outbursts.

It worked, at least a little. He could talk freely of his memories of reducing North Korea to ash, while carefully omitting that HE was the one responsible. To the healer, he had simply borne witness to the horrific aftermath and felt guilt over not being able to help. The screams still echoed in his mind, alongside the roar of the Dragon. With time and patience, the screams quieted, but the roaring never did.

And it would never leave him.

I can't TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!

Within his mind, he screamed in mind-numbing agony. The screams had died down, but they hadn't left him. And neither had the guilt.

What troubles you Harry?

YOU TROUBLE ME! I undertook the ritual in order to build a connection with those I've lost. Instead, I unleash a monster upon the world, and condemn MILLIONS of innocents to the fire!

They attacked us. We responded appropriately.

And incinerating entire CITIES!?!?

An appropriate response. They had mobilized the entire populace for the sole purpose of being sent into a meat grinder. If anyone should bear guilt for their needless deaths, it is their leaders, not you.

And what of the Weasleys?

Do you feel GUILT for those TRAITORS?!

For Ron and Molly, no. Ron was an insufferable git, and I should have dropped him like a bad habit. And Molly was a cruel and manipulative bitch that used her own children for her greedy ends.

Then what troubles you about them???

It's the fact that people are THANKING me for AVENGING them!!! I'm not the one that avenged them, I got my revenge by KILLING THEM!!!

Why not tell them the truth?

Oh, that'll go over well. Tell them that the mother and brother they've been mourning were actually vile traitors, and the man they think is a hero is responsible for their deaths.

I see no downside to this.

You must be joking.

NO. If they are true friends, then they will come around. It will hurt, but if they are sincere, they will recognize we did the right thing.

What about Ron's children with Hermione?

Mistakes.

Mistakes?? THAT'S all you have to say about them???

They should never have been born. Had it not been for Molly and Dumbledore, Hermione would be your wife, and she would have been safe. She never would have lost twins to that jealous animal.

And there's another problem!

What?

DUMBLEDORE!!! He set all of this in motion, he sicced Molly on us, he's the reason I took back Ron when I should have thrown him to Aragog. And HE wanted me dead so HE could kill Voldemort! All in his insane ambition to be remembered as the greatest wizard of all time!!!

Yes, he died too soon, and too quickly. He should have suffered. He should have died by OUR hands.

And that's just it! HE'S DEAD! He's forever outside of our reach!!! Even if we lived as long as he did, we'd NEVER be able to reveal the full scope of his betrayal, let alone convince the world that admires him of the truth of the matter!!!

Hmmmmm...

What? WHAT???

I think I have an idea .

An idea for what?

A means of undoing the damage done by the bearded betrayer. But it will take preparations. We need to prepare the ritual by Halloween.

October is a week away. We'd have to move fast, otherwise, we need to wait another year.

Have no fear. For this ritual, time is on our side.

So began the preparations. The list of ingredients was as long as Harry's arm and included an astounding variety of items: Bones of a dragon, ground into sand. Merpeople scales, soaked in Runespoor venom with the heart of a Kelpie. Blood of a Chimaera. The list just went on. To anyone else, the insane list of ingredients meant this ritual was an impossible task.

Yet for Harry, this was all within his reach. He needed to spend gold and plenty of it. Thousands of Galleons were sunk into each individual ingredient, with thousands more being spent on ensuring silence regarding his preparations. The Dragon had offered little in the way of explanation regarding this new endeavour. All that was guaranteed was the chance to set things right.

With Halloween only days away, Harry underwent his final check regarding the ingredients.

It looks like that's everything.

Check the dragon bone one more time.

Fine, but I'm telling you it's been prepared exactly as you described.

I know you listen, but you are not yet used to the strength you now possess.

I've been meaning to ask you about that. I noticed my strength has gone up quite a bit. I've already crushed a few doorknobs by accident, not to mention how careful I have to be when hugging my children. Is this a side effect of the ritual?

More like a benefit. You've begun to acquire the gifts of a Great Caledonian Fire Drake. Your strength will become that of legends, your senses shall become heightened, and magic shall be no more a threat to you than a thornbush.

I'm immune to magic cast upon me?

Not yet, and not quite. Your body shall become highly resistant to the effects of magic cast with intent to harm. The Killing Curse will hurt, but it will require multiple casts at once to actually kill. The Cruciatus Curse will barely tickle you, while other curses, jinxes, and hexes will seemingly bounce off you.

So I'm basically indestructible now?

Don't get carried away. In your full, draconic glory, all that I described is amplified a thousand-fold. Your human form possesses a shadow of that power.

Is there a means of gaining that power without making a complete transformation?

You wish to sample the power, but not imbibe fully?

More like I want to utilize this new ability to its fullest, without risking another breach of the Statute.

Perhaps. With practice, we may be able to achieve some manner of form, one that allows you more of your full power without requiring a full transformation. But until then, focus on the ritual. We need to be ready for the witching hour.

October 30th was soon upon them. It was now time for one final item they had yet to collect. This item could only be found at Hogwarts. Which is why he found himself being escorted through the grounds by one Minerva McGonagall.

"I'm glad to see you doing well, Lord Potter."

"Thank you, Headmistress, but you didn't have to escort me. I know my way around well enough."

"I know that Harry. I just wanted a chance to talk with you."

That got him to pause. She had never called him Harry, always Mr. Potter as a student, or Lord Potter as an adult.

"That's the first time you've ever called me by my name."

"I apologize if I've offended you, Lord Potter."

"Not at all. It's just... unexpected."

"That may be why I wished to speak with you." She stopped walking and turned to face him. "Harry, are you alright? You've barely spoken with anyone since coming back."

Of course. She fears us, she fears our power, she fears what we can do. Perhaps we should provide a demonstration.

NO. Let me handle this.

"I appreciate the concern Minerva, but I'm doing fine."

"Harry, just know that people are here for you. You don't have to deal with... him, alone."

"Him?"

"I provided the research to you, Lord Potter. Did you think I'd forgotten all the details surrounding it?"

"I can handle this, McGonagall. I don't need my hand held."

"No, but you might benefit from hearing voices other than his."

How does she know I speak to you?

"How did you know I can hear him?"

"I didn't, I only assumed. It appears my assumption was correct. You can hear him."

"Yes. I can hear him talking to me. But I can talk back to him. I'm still in control of myself, and I can keep him in line."

"Is it that bad? I've pieced together why Hermione is again Miss Granger. Shall I assume he has more to say?"

"You're not far off. He definitely has other things to say. But I've learned what motivates him, and how to use that to keep him under control."

I am not a mindless creature. I can think, and speak, for myself.

I know, but for now, let's keep the thinking between us, and leave the talking to me.

Fine.

They continued in silence until Harry had a question for his new partner.

Do you have a name?

Excuse me?

A name? Do you have one of your own, or must I always speak of you as 'the Dragon' or 'him'?

I have no name that I know of. If your parents ever had one for me, they never passed it on. And it's doubtful Dumbledore ever thought of me as anything more than a monster that threatened his plans.

Well, we can't let that go on. How about... Goliath?

The Philistine giant that fought David? I like it. It carries the weight of history and signifies power and respect.

"Goliath."

"Beg your pardon?"

"That's his name. Goliath. Makes it easier to deal with him when I can put a name to him, other than simply Dragon."

"Well, I hope for all our sakes, Goliath can keep his temper in check."

It was then that they arrived at their intended destination: the White Tomb. Located on the shores of the Black Lake, it was the final resting place of Dumbledore, and the only grave at Hogwarts. One last monument to Dumbledore's pride.

"Well, here we are Lord Potter. What exactly did you need with Dumbledore's tomb?"

"It's not the tomb I need. It's what's inside that matters."

With that, Harry strode up to the tomb with quick, powerful strides. Standing next to the tomb, he simply pulled his arm back, and brought it down in a frighteningly powerful punch, piercing straight through the marble cover, and quickly found what he was looking for. Withdrawing his hand, Minerva was shocked to see him holding the Elder Wand in his hand.

"M-Mr Potter! What-What are you doing!?"

"All my life, Minerva, only one man had the means to place bindings on me, bindings that kept me from my animagus. And Molly wasn't clever, or brave enough to potion me or Hermione. Not without help. Who do you think could have done that?"

"Harry... what are you saying?"

"It matters not what I say. What matters is what I'm doing. I'm setting right the mistakes made because one man couldn't stop toying with the hands of fate. All this means nothing in the end."

With that, Harry Apparated from Hogwarts with a crack of lightning.

Impressive.

What?

The way you handled McGonagall after reclaiming the Elder Wand.

I wasn't aware you would be offering commentary.

Joke as you wish. By implicating Dumbledore, and the manner in which you did it, you've bought us time. She will wait before contacting others and will seek answers from the portrait in her office first.

Wouldn't he just lie to her?

He can't. He might try to twist the meaning of the truth, but if she commands him, as Headmistress, to speak truthfully, he will have no choice but to obey.

And what happens when he answers her?

She will seek counsel from Flitwick, and then they will contact Hermione. After, she will search for us to get answers, but it will be too late. We will have completed the ritual, and all of this shall mean nothing.

And exactly is this ritual intended to do? You've brought me to Stonehenge but told me nothing of the ritual or its effects.

You will see soon enough. Have you brought the Felix Felicis?

Yes, shall I drink it now?

Do it. The witching hour is nearly upon us, and your nerves must be calmed.

Grumbling at Goliath's attitude, he downed the potion and got into position. Across Stonehenge, his work sat waiting to play its part. Runic circles drawn in blood, fallen stones marked by scales, and bone sand used to bind it all together. It was an impressive piece of work, and as the Liquid Luck did its job, Harry knew this would all turn out well. Once the witching hour struck, he pointed the Elder Wand at the sky, and the ritual began.

"Pater temporum, Filius creationis, te invoco! Fati magister, Fortuitae maritus, te provoco! Fortunae domina, fati sponsa, precor!"

As the runes glowed with an ethereal grey, the bone-sand levitated and began to swirl around Stonehenge.

"Opera tua violata sunt! Confutata est voluntas tua! Ludi vestri polluti sunt! Intercessio peto!"

Faster and faster the sand whirled, enveloping Stonehenge in a storm of sand. Until, at the last moment of the witching hour, Harry slashed the Wand downwards, and in an instant, everything went white.

When Harry was next aware of his location, he found himself face to face with three towering figures.

"It has been many years since a mortal has called upon us." The first spoke with a voice that carried the wisdom of the ages.

"It takes great courage to attempt our summoning." The second voice held an immutable authority that brook no dissent.

"But we have answered your summons, and await your plea." The final voice was feminine and carried an undercurrent of both kindness and cruelty.

"Who-who ARE you???" It was all Harry could think of at that instant.

"We have carried many names across the breadth of creation. Though you may know us as Father Time,"

"The Master of Fate,"

"And the Mistress of Fortune."

Harry, this is a delicate situation. You must get to the point of why we did the ritual. They already the truth behind our intent, but they will test us to see if we lie to them. DO NOT LIE.

As if I need any reminders of THAT.

"Father Time, Master of Fate, and Mistress of Fortune. I seek to undo the damage caused by one known to us as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

At that name, the three godly beings seemed to stiffen.

"He has tampered with the flow of time to suit his own ends."

"He sought to bind fate to his will."

"He has robbed others of the gifts I have bestowed."

"I wish to be sent to an earlier time, that I might stop him and Voldemort before the damage they did begins."

They seemed to become sombre at this request.

"To send you too far back would irrevocably disrupt the flow of time."

"The further you go, the more fates you tamper with."

"Yet there is no malice in his desire."

"His intentions are noble."

"His will remains true."

"His heart remains pure."

The three nodded at each other.

"We will send you back to your Hogwarts days."

"You need only think of the time you wish to arrive, and it will be so."

"We may speak more before then."

This is it, Harry! We're about to return to Hogwarts! But we need a specific time. Too early and we threaten the timeline. Too late, and the damage is already done.

How about in our fourth year? That damned tournament is when everything went downhill.

Good idea. We can destroy the Horcruxes during the tournament, and destroy Voldemort when they resurrect him.

"I know when I wish to return."

"Then we shall send you there. You will keep your knowledge, memories, and power of this time."

"The horcrux in your scar shall be removed."

"You will have the full power of Goliath at your command."

"But there will be no do-overs. What will be, will be."

"You must activate your soul bond."

"You won't like where we send you."

At that, everything went white again, and Harry felt the sensation of falling. Until, he found himself on a bed, in a room, staring up at the ceiling. Sitting up straight, he began looking over his body. His hands were smaller, his arms thinner. He was back in the body of a fourteen-year-old boy! It had worked! Harry felt so relieved, so overjoyed he could dance! That is until-

"HARRY POTTER!"

Of course, they'd send us back to the Dursleys.

Notes:And here we are! Back in the past, and stuck with the Dursleys again. Fortune's a real bitch.

Chapter 6: Return to 1994Chapter TextAfter completing a complicated ritual, Harry had done the impossible. He had been sent back decades in time, to the summer of 1994. Sirius had yet to return to Britain. The Quidditch World Cup Finals hadn't been held, along with the Death Eater riot that followed. And the Weasleys potions scheme had yet to be set in motion. The opportunities this afforded him were boundless, he could set plans in motion to save his friends and countless others. He could-

"HARRY POTTER!"

Of course, they'd send us back to the Dursleys.

I'd almost forgotten we didn't come back after the Finals.

All thanks to Arthur not knowing about the electric fireplace.

True, but the look on Vernon's face was priceless. Should we go to him?

No. The walrus only has two means of forcing you to do his bidding: physical violence, and being thrown out. Well, the blubber ball is no longer capable of intimidating us, and leaving is hardly a threat. It'd be more akin to a reward.

Still, Dumbledore made certain to intervene whenever they blustered about kicking us out. Best not to give him a reason to meddle if we can help it.

Fine. But if he raises so much as a finger in our direction...

you'll tear it off. I know.

Reluctantly, Harry dressed himself in clothes that were too big for him and stepped out of the prison cell he called a bedroom, and into the house he despised. Fortune hadn't been joking when she said they wouldn't like their destination.

Heading downstairs, he noticed a pile of mail at the door.

Of course. Couldn't be bothered to gather the mail himself.

No doubt the walrus is too busy fawning over that pig in a wig.

Gathering up the mail, he noticed the date on today's post: July 31st.

Happy Birthday, Harry.

Not everybody gets to have their birthday twice.

Noticing the empty living room, Harry made his way to the kitchen, where sure enough the walrus and his pig could be found. Breakfast had been served, and Harry remembered this was the year Dudley, and by extension the entire household, were put on a diet.

Good Lord, I forgot how fat Dudley could get.

I take back what I said. The walrus is fawning over that deformed baby Killer Whale.

Just as before, whatever food had been prepared was all dished out. The meaning was abundantly clear, as it was every year. They weren't forcing him to cook for them, at least not on his birthday, but they felt no obligation to do more than that. Giving Dudley extra was one more way for them to remind him what he was missing out on.

"BOY!!! WHERE'S THAT- Oh. There it is." The bellowing elephant seal went from a roar to a sneer in his typical manner, upon seeing Harry with the mail. "You overslept I'm afraid, so there's none left for you."

Like bloody hell will you be eating any of that garbage! It's your birthday, Harry, and you need a proper meal.

Even if they left any 'food' for me, it would barely pass as table scraps for the dog.

Not like Petunia ever put in the effort where you were concerned.

True. For now, I need to get us out of here.

Dropping the mail on the table, Harry kept his face unreadable. "That's fine. I've matters to take care of, so no time for breakfast."

Taken aback by Harry's reaction, or lack thereof, Vernon eyed him suspiciously.

"And what could a freak like YOU have to do that's so important?" Dudley had decided to speak up, the lack of his favourite foods meant he needed another means of entertainment. Tormenting Harry was his favourite activity after eating.

"Nothing that concerns you." With that Harry simply turned and left, watched by a pair of piggy eyes with suspicion and contempt.

Strange. I fully expected to get a reaction from them.

You mean you wanted Vernon to give you a reason to maim him.

I don't need a reason to torment THAT excessive waste of flesh. But it's strange he never attempted to ruin your day further. He's never been shy about his delight in your suffering. Especially when he hopes to use that damned belt of his.

Much as they despise me, and I'm certain they know the feeling's mutual, that would likely mean further interactions with me. I gave them a valid excuse not to deal with me at all today. They expect me to be busy, so they can ignore me, and their neglect can be disguised as a mere misunderstanding.

I doubt it'll last. The bloated idiot can't stand the idea of you being happy, and his son knows he won't be punished by them no matter what he does.

Fair point. So what do we do now?

Head to your room first. We need to know what we have available to us.

Making his way to his room, Harry opened the door to find a small pile of gifts on his bed. But most importantly, he saw Hedwig perched on the window sill. Once Harry's misty eyes settled on her, she flew over and perched on his should, affectionately nibbling his ear.

I'd forgotten how beautiful she is.

I'd forgotten how intelligent she is.

What do you mean?

She knows you've changed Harry. She knows you're not the same as you were yesterday. But she still recognizes you as Harry Potter, her friend and master.

That's good. She's been a wonderful friend and companion all her life. Losing her... was harder than I ever imagined.

I know. Even trapped within that cage, I could feel the pain you felt after losing her.

A few moments passed in silence, as Hedwig comforted Harry with her presence, letting him know of her affection. Harry, likewise, promised himself he'd protect her better. No Killing Curse would strike her this time.

I hate to interrupt this moment, but you do have gifts to open. And some mail.

I remember. The mail contains my shopping list for this year. As far as the gifts go, I think the best part was all the candy sent.

Because the Dursleys continued to starve you?

Because I had a stash of sweets Dudley couldn't touch.

Heh. Still, best not to get distracted. We still need to know what we have. Deal with the candy as you wish, then check to see how much money you have.

Setting Hedwig on her perch, Harry gathered up his gifts and hid them, knowing that Dudley would gorge himself on sweets if he could the chance. After finding his money pouch, Harry was content to find a few galleons and sickles, and his Gringotts Key.

Wait, I thought you left this with Molly Weasley?

I did, but I got it back at the start of summer. Thought I might need it to help Sirius.

When did you give it back?

During the World Cup Finals. She offered to do the book shopping and I never asked for it back.

A foolish mistake. She almost certainly used it for herself. This time, she'll get nothing from you.

Well, as far as money goes, we should be fine for now. What should we do first?

We need people that we can trust, people Dumbledore doesn't have easy access to. Who do we know that fits that description?

For now, Remus and Sirius. I'm not entirely sure where Remus is, but I know Sirius fled the country with Buckbeak. I can send a letter to them both, but we'd need somewhere for Sirius to hide.

Very well. We also have the goblins to consider.

The goblins!? After what Griphook tried to do!?

Yes, because he was acting alone. Once learning of the horcrux in Gringotts, he should have informed King Ragnok. The goblins despise horcruxes and they would have rewarded you for bringing it to their attention.

Then why demand the Sword of Gryffindor as payment for helping us?

I don't know, but it's clear he wasn't acting under the rules of Gringotts. I'd wager Dumbledore is connected to this somehow.

Then who among the goblins can we trust?

King Ragnok the 10th, and his son, the Potter Account Manager, Keeper Ragnok the 11th. You never met either of them before the break-in, did you?

No, those meetings came after the fact. Definitely don't want to do THAT again.

Then we meet with the Keeper first and inform him of the horcrux in the Lestrange Vault. That alone should get us a meeting with the King.

And then we inform him of our Dumbledore problem?

Yes. We should also inform him of the future.

Won't that just make him angry with us? We did break in after all.

But you haven't yet. Even if he could punish you for 'future crimes' you already settled the matter. He has nothing to use against you. But more importantly, he'll want answers from Griphook.

Alright. That just leaves the question of how we get to Gringotts. Do we summon the Knight Bus?

Are you a masochist? No, call for Dobby, but first, get some parchment. You've got a letter to write.

Grabbing a spare piece of parchment, Harry wrote a letter as directed by Goliath.

Keeper Ragnok the 11th

I apologize in advance that this is the first time you've heard from me. But I have only recently learned I even HAD an Account Manager. Nor have I received any letters or stationary from Gringotts before or after my 11th birthday.

I regret to inform you, Keeper, that I have reason to believe there is a traitor at Gringotts. I must speak with you and your father, the venerable King Ragnok the 10th, about this traitor's presence, and the threat he poses both to the Goblin nation, and the Potter Family.

For reasons that shall be made clear, I cannot risk walking directly into Gringotts and asking to speak with you. I have reason to believe the traitor is on the lookout for my appearance, and will potentially alert an outside presence of our meeting. If you know of a way to circumvent this possibility, please inform me at the earliest possible convenience.

I realize that my requests are certainly presumptuous of me, so I wish to offer some information as a token of my good intentions: there is a Horcrux in Gringotts. Specifically, Hufflepuff's Cup, located in the Lestrange Vault. This defilement of an artifact of a Hogwarts Founder was carried out by none other than Lord Voldemort.

I look forward to our meeting.

Harry James Potter

With that taken care of, now Harry called out "Dobby!"

A moment later, the hyperactive elf popped into existence, standing at the foot of Harry's bed. "Harry Potter calls for Dobby?"

Harry smiled at that. He never forgot how friendly Dobby was, and made it a point to always visit his grave at least once a year. After one of these visits, Harry had asked Kreacher if he wanted to be free like Dobby was. Kreacher had replied that Dobby was never a free elf. From the moment he tricked Lucius into giving Dobby that sock, a bond had formed between them. Harry had become Dobby's new master without ever intending it.

When Harry asked why Dobby never mentioned this, Kreacher replied simply 'Believing Dobby was free made Master Harry happy. Dobby would do anything to make Harry happy.'

"It's good to see you again my friend. Dobby, I know that you're not a free elf. I know that a bond was formed the moment Malfoy gave you that sock, but you said you were a free elf because it made me happy."

Dobby suddenly looked distraught. "Dobby is sorry to have lied to Harry Potter. Dobby will punish himself!"

"No Dobby, no! I'm not upset with you Dobby, and you will never punish yourself. In fact, I want to ask if you'd like to officially become my house elf."

Dobby went from distraught to overjoyed in record time. Practically bouncing with joy, Dobby replied "Dobby be happy to be Harry Potter's elf!"

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, Harry smiled as he gave his first orders. "And Harry Potter is happy to have Dobby as his elf. First, I need you to take me to the Leaky Cauldron. After, I want you to take this letter to Keeper Ragnok the 11th at Gringotts. Let him know I'll be having breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Dobby be happy to do this sir!" At that, the hyperactive elf brought them to the Leaky Cauldron and then took the letter to its intended recipient.

Well done Harry. That should get the ball rolling in our favour.

Let's hope so. Like Father Time said 'What will be, will be.'

We're still in a better position now than last time. For now, let's get some proper food in you.

While Harry enjoyed a large breakfast, Keeper Ragnok was having an unusual start to his day. Since Harry, Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, had turned 11 he had been growing steadily more frustrated by the boy's lack of appearance.

The first time Harry had been to Gringotts, he had eagerly awaited his first meeting, only to be left furiously wondering why he hadn't shown. This had begun a pattern. Every year since he had expected some manner of explanation, only to be snubbed at every turn. Any letters sent demanding an explanation would be left unanswered, and he had no knowledge of his residence. If he did, he'd show up there, likely with a pair of guards, to demand an explanation.

And now, here in his office, a hyperactive house elf had appeared, offering a letter from the 'Great Harry Potter'. Ragnok had sneered at this, growing steadily angrier with the 'Boy-Who-Lived' only to be stunned by the contents of said letter. An owl-mail redirect, a traitor, and a horcrux! All in Gringotts, and all revealed in a single letter!

'That explains the lack of response on his part' Ragnok thought. 'He has no idea he's even supposed to meet with me.' Well, getting him into Gringotts would be a simple matter, now that Harry had a house elf, though the meeting with his father might be another matter. 'But if he's right about the horcrux, I should be able to get him in.'Summoning the Head of Security, he was ordered to take a team of curse-breakers to the Lestrange Vault and find the horcrux Harry claimed to be there. If it was, he was to bring the Lestrange Account Manager to King Ragnok for judgment.

While he awaited confirmation of his orders, he reviewed the letter and pondered the implications of it.

'An owl-mail redirect. Who could have ordered that in place?' It was a rather disturbing question, far more so than one would normally imagine. Gringotts, and the goblins in particular, took a rather dim view of those that shirked their responsibilities, and Harry certainly had them. As the last member of House Potter, Harry was the Heir to a legacy that stretched back centuries. For centuries now, the Potter Family had the largest fortune in all of wizarding Britain, possibly the entire wizarding world.

Within their vault, the Potter Family had more resources at their disposal than most countries. Ragnok remembered quite distinctly the literal mountains of galleons they possessed. Then, of course, there was the jewelry. Dozens of chests containing precious stones, along with boxes for rings, bracelets, necklaces, and more.

And that was just the monetary side of things. The vault also contained war robes, suits of armour, swords, spears, and even a handful of enchanted flintlocks and cannons. The Potters could arm and equip a small magical army alone. But the most valuable thing the Vaults contained was the Potter Family Grimoire, placed in there for safekeeping along with the rest of the Potter Library since James and Lily went into hiding. Some of those books were considered myths by Wizardkind.

'Whoever placed that redirect wants to keep Harry away from those resources, and is willing to risk us seizing the vault to do it.' Not many witches or wizards fit into that category. Oh, there must be dozens, even hundreds of wizards that would gladly deny Harry his birthright, but they would much prefer if it all went to themselves, rather than risk the goblins getting it all.

'I wonder if the traitor is part of this.' It was an idle thought, but a distinct possibility. Whoever the traitor is they had access to the Vaults, and were likely, as Harry suggested, keeping watch in case he decided to make a withdrawal. The traitor would be in contact with an outside influence, and in the worst-case scenario, would potentially grab items, likely the Grimoire and other books, for their partner.

That just left the biggest problem revealed in the letter. 'A horcrux in the Lestrange Vault.' It made sense at least. While Voldemort had never had a Gringotts vault, most of his followers did, and it was highly likely that he had been given access to them. The horcrux also meant that he was still alive, in some form or another, since his defeat in 1981. This also raised one question: were there more? 'If there are, I wonder if Harry knows their location.'

That also raised another question: how exactly did Harry know about the horcrux in the first place, let alone the vault it was in?

As he was pondering, the curse-breakers had been led into the Lestrange Vault, where they had indeed found the horcrux. While that was being taken care of, Gringotts security arrested the Lestrange Account Manager, bringing him to the King to face judgment. When the Head of Security notified Ragnok, he called for Dobby and asked him to inform Harry that he was being summoned to meet with the Goblin King. This meant that he could be brought directly to Keeper Ragnok's office, and preferably soon. Dobby promised Keeper Ragnok that it would be done, and disappeared.

"This is going to be interesting." That was all Keeper Ragnok said before he went to meet with his father.

Feel better Harry, now that you've got some proper food in you?

That was a fantastic breakfast. Tom's even better than I remembered.

You flattered him by coming to the Cauldron for your birthday. He decided to put in the extra effort. Now, are you ready for your meeting?

As ready as I can be I suppose. We're really going through with this?

Yes. We need access to your vault, and we can't afford to tiptoe around Gringotts. This is the best way for us to get that. Now, steel your nerves, and summon Dobby.

"Dobby!" The elf appeared. "Take me to Keeper Ragnok."

One moment they were at the entrance to Diagon Alley, the next they were in an office, dominated by a large, ornately carved desk, with a goblin seated behind it.

"Mr. Potter. At long last we meet. Before we do anything else, take a seat."

Following his instructions, Harry sat in one of the chairs before the desk and held his breath. He recognized this was indeed Keeper Ragnok, the Potter Account Manager. What kept him nervous was his memories of the Keeper. Ragnok the 11th was known for being as blunt and hard-hitting as a Warhammer, yet could be as sharp and subtle as a dagger through the ribs.

"Mr. Potter, in all my time serving as Account Manager for the House of Potter, I never expected to receive a letter such as this one. You claim to have had an owl-mail redirect placed upon you, and that there is a traitor in Gringotts. Yet, you also knew of the presence of a horcrux in Gringotts, and the very vault it was located in. That has raised some serious questions regarding the security of Gringotts.

"Yet it also tells me you know more than you were willing to let on. I suspect you not only know who the traitor is, you know who they're working for. And my father agrees with me. It is for that reason alone that you have earned the right to an audience with the King of Goblins. I expect that you will reveal everything in this meeting, Mr. Potter."

At that Harry simply nodded, which seemed to satisfy the Keeper. Following him out of the office, they were met by a small group of goblins in plated chainmail. Each goblin was carrying a fearsome battle-axe or a vicious halberd. These goblins, the Royal Guard, escorted them to the office of Director King Ragnok the 10th.

"When you meet with the King, you will address him as Director Ragnok, and don't even THINK of grabbing your wand." Keeper Ragnok spoke with iron in his voice, ensuring Harry knew the expectations for him.

Fortunately, he had done this before.

Led into the office, Harry once again saw the stern visage of King Ragnok the 10th, though this time instead of a look of abject fury, he had a look of curiosity. Whatever this young wizard had to say, he wanted to hear it.

Bowing low, Keeper Ragnok handled introductions. "Director Ragnok the 10th, King of the Goblin Nation, I present Harry James Potter, Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter."

Time to make an impression. Remember what I told you.

Bowing as low as he could, Harry spoke firmly, but respectfully. "Hail Director Ragnok, King of the Goblin Nation. May your enemies fall, and your gold overflow."

Every goblin in the room, bar the Keeper and Director, was stunned by this display. Wizardkind had a reputation for arrogance, especially amongst the goblins. So few of them treated other magical beings as worthy of respect, let alone as equals. And here was this young wizard, meeting with their King, and he spoke with the respect only a goblin would even think to show. The silence was broken by one of the guards dropping their halberd in shock.

While the Keeper shot a look of venom at the clumsy guard, the Director looked rather impressed. "And may your gold overflow, and your enemies fall, Heir Potter. It is quite rare to hear such respect from a wizard, let alone one too young to claim their Lordship. I understand we have you to thank for alerting us of the presence of the horcrux in Gringotts."

"Indeed, Director. It was I who alerted Keeper Ragnok of its presence."

"Most impressive. Few wizards know of the existence of horcruxes, let alone our stance on such vile magics. As payment for this service, we have not only removed the soul from the object, the Hufflepuff cup, we have placed it in your vault as a reward. But that is not the only reason you asked to speak with us, is it?"

"No Director, it is not. As I'm certain Keeper has informed you, I have reason to believe a traitor is working in Gringotts. This traitor, when approached concerning the horcrux, demanded payment in return for his 'assistance'. This idea of assistance would have meant breaking into the vault to steal the horcrux. When that failed, the traitor would have abandoned us to Gringotts security, selling us out as thieves while he made off scot-free.

"This traitor is the goblin known as Griphook. I know that he is a traitor because the scenario I described has already happened. Or rather, it would have happened if life continued on its prior course."

Director Ragnok leaned forward, an unreadable expression on his face. "Heir Potter, what exactly do you mean by 'has happened' and 'would happen?'"

"Physically, I am the Harry of 1994. Mentally, however, I am the Harry of the 2020s. Decades from now I will perform a ritual that will send my mind back in time, to this very day, in order to prevent the irrevocable harm done to Britain, magical and muggle, by Tom Marvolo Riddle, aka Voldemort."

Director Ragnok went wide-eyed at that and sat back in stunned silence. Before he could muster a response, his son decided to step in. "Director, if I may be so bold, perhaps we should review Heir Potter's memories. It would undoubtedly be more efficient than having him repeat his story verbally."

The Director could only nod, curious to see the story as Harry remembered it.

For nearly three hours the memories of Harry Potter were viewed by both Director and Keeper. Everything from Harry's first arrival at Gringotts to the Gringotts break-in, the Horcrux Hunt, all the way up to Harry's transformation into his animagus, and the ritual that sent him back in time.

Throughout it all, Director Ragnok kept a stoic face, rarely doing more than raising his eye at certain events and asking the occasional question. Keeper, on the other hand, made his stance on said events quite clear. The betrayal of Dumbledore and the Weasleys, along with Griphooks treachery, left him furious, uttering a rather colourful string of Gobbledegook curses. The break-in was a shock, though he seemed impressed that Harry had actually managed to pull it off. But it was the final two rituals he performed that left him stunned.

"Time-travel, and a Dragon Animagus!? Heir Potter, there is far more to you than even I believed possible."

"Thank you, Keeper. I confess I was uncertain what to expect from this meeting given how things occurred in the original timeline."

"For that you have my apologies. I should have known someone was interfering. Hagrid should have been informed you were supposed to speak with me on your first visit. That you weren't in possession of your key should have been an obvious sign. Instead, I ignored the obvious and took my anger out on you. That will not happen again."

Director Ragnok chose that moment to enter the conversation. "I should hope not, son. Now, Heir Potter, what exactly were you hoping to gain from this meeting?"

"Your assistance going forward. As is now clear, Dumbledore and Molly Weasley are actively plotting against me. Molly is after the Potter fortune, while Dumbledore seeks to use me as a sacrifice for his own glory. I'll wager he's also after, if not the fortune, the Potter Library, and any other artifacts he might find a use for. This cannot be allowed to stand!

"As far as Griphook is concerned, I'm convinced he is in league with Dumbledore. What he seeks to gain from this partnership is beyond me, but I have no doubts the Sword of Gryffindor is part of the deal, likely the payment he expected."

The Director nodded in agreement. "I concur. That he had the nerve to demand the Sword as payment suggests he had his own plans for its use."

"I thought the goblins considered the Sword 'stolen' as Godric was not the maker of the sword."

"Ragnuk did make the Sword, and thus was its true owner. But then sending his subjects to steal it, and claiming to be the victim? He disgraced himself through his actions and forsook all claim to the Sword. Why do you think his crypt is in Godric's Hollow?"

"I wasn't aware that was his resting place. If that's the case, then what use is the Sword to Griphook?"

"For those that believe in the myth regarding its 'theft,' the Sword is a powerful symbol. Just having it would lend legitimacy and respect among our kind. He would be known as the goblin who righted a centuries-long wrong, revered as a hero by those that hold disdain for wizardkind. There is no telling what he could do with that kind of influence."

Giving a command in Gobbledegook, a pair of guards left the office. "He'll be arrested, and interrogated within the hour. Care to watch?"

"Thank you, but no. Now that I know I can count on you when it comes to Dumbledore, I need to send some letters. May I return to Keeper Ragnok's office?"

"Certainly. Keeper, escort him there and assist in whatever way you can. I'll see to Griphook, personally if need be. May your enemies fall, and your gold overflow."

"And may your gold overflow, and your enemies fall, Director."

Upon returning to Keeper Ragnoks office, both goblin and wizard were stunned to see a snowy owl perched on the desk. The sight of it brought a chuckle to Harry.

"Keeper Ragnok, meet Hedwig. Any owl communication on my part will be handled by her."

"Smart bird, Heir Potter. She not only knew where my office was, she knew you'd be here after meeting with my father. Now, before we do anything else, give me your wand."

Surprised, Harry did so and watched curiously as Ragnok waved his hands over it.

"A gift from Director Ragnok: the Trace has been removed. Now you can cast spells freely without the Ministry interfering."

Smiling, Harry sat down and proceeded to stroke Hedwig when he realized something.

"It occurs to me, Keeper, that I neglected to ask Director Ragnok if he could assist in the matter of my godfather's innocence."

"Yes, it occurred to me that might be brought up sooner or later. As far as Sirius is concerned, Heir Potter, Gringotts is under no obligation to turn him into the Aurors. Gringotts belongs to the goblin nation and thus is considered sovereign territory. Even for a 'notorious mass murderer,' the Aurors would have no right to arrest him even if he was standing right in front of them. Any infractions against Gringotts or her clients would be handled by us, on our terms, not the Wizengamot."

"Perfect. As far as I'm aware, Sirius is outside of Britain, maybe even Europe altogether, with a fugitive hippogriff named Buckbeak. Can Gringotts provide a portkey that would bring them both here?"

"Easily, though I'm a little surprised you'd want to bring the hippogriff along. That will definitely be harder to keep quiet."

"I've got a plan for that. For now, here's what I'd like to happen. I'm going to send two letters, one to Remus Lupin, and the other to Sirius Black. Remus can use the Floo Network to travel here, while I want to include a portkey to Gringotts for Sirius and Buckbeak. While we're waiting on that, I'll be scouting a potential safe house for Sirius and Buckbeak. If I'm right, I'd like to have a portkey for it made. Afterwards, we can check if we need to establish a secure Floo connection. Is there anything you'd like to add?"

Leaning back in his chair, Ragnok stroked his chin, until an idea came to him. Reaching into a drawer in his desk, he pulled out a pair of handheld mirrors.

"Just this: take one of these mirrors with you, and send the second to Sirius. All you need is to press your finger against the jewel at the bottom. Then simply say 'Keeper Ragnok' and you'll be able to instantly communicate with me. This way we know when to expect Sirius, and you can tell me when you've found your safe house."

Grinning like a loon, Harry gratefully accepted the mirrors. While Ragnok left to secure the portkeys, Harry summoned Dobby, and after being provided writing material, wrote two letters to some old friends.

Dear Moony,

I hope this letter finds you well. I'm sorry about how your tenure at Hogwarts ended and wish I had done more to prevent it. You were the best Defence teacher we've ever had.

I know I have no right to do so, but I need to ask for your help. I've learned of a conspiracy against me, one that has been in the works since the night my parents died. Perhaps even longer. I cannot tell you more, as what I've learned must be heard straight from the source to be believed. I can hardly believe it myself.

You should know that I'll be inviting Padfoot to this meeting as well. I know, I know, it's dangerous for him, and likely for me, if he comes back to Britain. But that is the severity of this situation. As it stands, you two are the only wizards I trust with this. But I have a plan to not only get him here safely, but somewhere the two of you can stay, regardless of your little 'furry problem.'

Once you get this letter, please travel to Gringotts and ask for Keeper Ragnok. He'll be expecting you.

Prongslet.

That's Remus taken care of.

I really hope he decides to come.

He will Harry. After everything that's happened, he won't stand idly by while you face an unknown enemy. Not if there's anything he can do to help.

That's actually comforting Goliath. Now, time to get serious.

That was a terrible pun.

Dear Padfoot,

I hope you and our feathered friend are doing well. I don't know where you are, but I trust that the two of you are somewhere safe.

First off, I'd like to apologize. I'm sorry that I couldn't get your name cleared, and I'm sorry that Wormtail was able to escape. If I ever see him again, I'll make certain to bring back proof, one way or the other.

Second, there is a reason I'm writing this letter beyond wanting to get in touch with you. I've learned of a conspiracy against me, one that has been in the works for years now, possibly since the attack on my family, or even longer. Right now, you and Moony are the only wizards I trust with this knowledge.

Because I don't know where you are, or how long it would take to get you here, along with your new friend, Hedwig has also brought a Gringotts portkey and a mirror. Simply press the jewel and say Keeper Ragnok. The mirror will allow you to communicate with the goblin in question. The portkey will transport you directly into his office, along with our friend.

By the time you get this, I hope to have established a safe house, one where not only you two can relax, but hopefully Moony will be able to make full use of it as well. Once everyone is gathered together, I'll relay everything I've learned, and hopefully, we can make a plan from there.

See you soon,

Prongslet

By the time Harry was finishing the second letter, Ragnok had returned carrying a small box. "Here is the portkey, Heir Potter. The code is included within, along with the communication mirror. Once I hear from Sirius, I'll notify you and we can bring him here."

Thanking the Keeper, Harry took the package and gave it to Hedwig, along with both letters, and she took off. Disappearing through means unknown to Harry, he stood from his chair.

"Thank you for everything Keeper Ragnok. May your enemies fall, and your gold overflow."

"Farewell for now Heir Potter. May your gold overflow, and your enemies fall."

With that, Harry simply disappeared from the office.

Shaking his head, Ragnok began laughing to himself.

"This is going to be fun."

Chapter 7: The Isle of WrathNotes:Bit of a lore dump here, but I thought it necessary to get it all out of the way.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter TextAfter finishing his meeting with Ragnok, Harry Apparated out of Gringotts, intent on finding a place only he knew about. Testing the limits of his abilities, Harry found he could Apparate quite comfortably from Diagon Alley all the way to the north of the British Isles. Specifically, Harry was now standing by the sea, in the Hebrides.

Why are we here? And what are you up to? We could have just used one of the Potter properties as a safe house.

True, but as far as Dumbledore is aware I have no knowledge of the Potter properties. What's more, I don't want to chance him keeping an eye on said properties and revealing our hand too early.

Fair enough, but then why are we here? There's nothing close by for us to use, and no people that would be of use to us.

Which means it's perfect for us to transform. But first-

"Dobby!"

"Great Harry Potter calls?"

"Dobby, I am going to attempt to transform into my animagus. When that happens, I need you to Disillusion me so nobody notices. But first I need to ask: can I summon you from anywhere?"

"So long as no elf-wards interfere, Great Harry Potter can always call Dobby!"

Grinning at the excited elf, Harry turned to face the sea.

Well, no time like the present.

Just take deep breaths, and focus. You don't need the full size, but that just means it'll take more concentration.

I can affect the size of my form?

It's difficult, but yes. Concentrate not just on the form itself, but the scale. How big do you really want it to be?

Breathing deeply, Harry closed his eyes and focused on his animagus. The 500-foot-long Great Caledonian Fire Drake, the most powerful dragon the world has ever seen. He could see it take shape in his mind. Now, he had to focus. He pictured the dragon at a fraction of its size. Slowly but surely, he defined the scale of the dragon, and when satisfied, he felt his body change.

It was different from the last time. His first transformation had been quick, but he felt a fire spreading throughout his body as the transformation took root. This was slower and more methodical. He was distinctly aware of his body lengthening, of a tail sprouting from him, of his teeth sharpening in a head that grew larger. His arms and legs changed length, and became thicker, with stronger bones as his hands and feet grew into claws. His skin tingled as he felt the armoured scales sprout from his body, and his back arched as the wings burst forth, ready to spread and take flight.

Within moments the change was complete, and Dobby was practically jumping in excitement. Seeing Great Harry Potter transform was incredible, and his form matched his greatness, or so he was saying.

"Thank you, Dobby. Now, you know what to do."

Harry's talking animagus nearly made Dobby faint, but he followed his instructions and then disappeared. Harry then turned and looked out to sea.

Excellent work Harry. 25 feet long is still sizeable, but far more manageable than 500.

My thoughts exactly. Now, it's time to see what I can do in this form.

Without hesitating, Harry bounded towards the sea and lept into the air, spreading his wings. He felt the muscles move reflexively, as though by instinct, and he truly took flight, soaring into the sky.

This new feeling of freedom was remarkable. He remembered his time as the dragon when he was no longer in control. It was nothing like this. Then his mind could only focus on the wrongs done to him, the betrayals he had suffered. Now, with all that in the back of his mind, he felt unbound by the weight of the world. He soared into the sky, dancing among the clouds, and dove downwards to the sea. He flew just above the waves, and felt the spray of the sea on his face, tasting the salt in the water.

It truly felt beyond his wildest dreams, which made it all the more infuriating that Dumbledore had kept this from him. Within his mind, Harry could feel Goliath stirring, eager for release.

We will destroy that bearded bastard for this, for EVERYTHING he's done.

We shall, but we will not give in to the anger. I will not give in.

He must PAY with his LIFE.

And he will, but not yet. First, we must set everything else in motion.

Then why are we out HERE?

You'll see soon enough.

The promise of revenge had sated Goliath, and curiosity kept him quiet. That was until he noticed a storm on the horizon. A strangely violent storm.

You clever little bugger.

Internally smirking, Harry raced ahead, charging straight through the storm and emerging in clear skies. Once again, the island was in his sight. This time, he beheld it as an explorer, not a raging monster seeking shelter.

The island was indeed massive. At a guess, Harry figured it was anywhere from 700-900 square kilometres. The southern end of the island was a sheer cliff, but as he soared upwards, he got a birds-eye view of the island. The easternmost part of the island dipped low into a natural harbour, flanked by the imposing cliffs that defined the rest of the island's coast. This shore gave way to elevated grasslands, dominated by herds of aurochs, along with small groups of boar.

To the south, the grasslands gave way to massive boreal forests. Clearings could be noted at various points in these forests, which gave way to smaller grasslands, or lakes that were filled with waterfowl. Harry noted that the forests were home to elk and bears. The North, on the other hand, was upland terrain, defined by great hills and lakes, home to goats that were actively hunted by packs of wolves.

The West, however, was another matter, and it was here Harry finally found what he was looking for. As opposed to the hills of the north, and grasslands of the east, the west was mountainous, with the rugged peaks reaching all the way to the coast. Nestled within these mountains, Harry dived down and transformed upon landing in front of his new safe house.

Bloody hell, I had no idea this place was so massive!

Compared to us, everything is tiny. But before you get carried away, check for any wards surrounding the fort. They might interfere with calling Dobby.

Pulling out his wand, he waved it in the pattern necessary to discern the presence of wards. What he found was astounding.

There's nothing.

What??? Impossible! No one goes to this much effort in order to hide something, and gives up halfway!

They must have figured the storm surrounding the island was enough. What exactly makes this place so special anyways?

This island is home to an intersection of ley lines, and this fortress was built right over it. The ambient magic made this place a natural lighthouse for us.

That explains why we just tunnelled through the mountain.

Crossing the bridge, and passing the gate, Harry found himself in a massive courtyard; one that happened to be filled with skeletons.

Well, that's not a good sign.

"Dobby!"

A minute passed, then two, then three, before the elf in question appeared, with an apologetic look on his face.

"Dobby apologizes for being so slow. Dobby had trouble finding the path through the bad winds."

"It's alright Dobby. I'm not upset with you. But I have an important task." Dobby perked up considerably at that.

"Dobby loves important tasks!"

"I need you to scout the rest of the fortress. If you find any lingering Dark magic or curses capable of causing harm or that-" he pointed to the skeletons littering the ground "and you aren't certain how to handle it, come find me right away. Understood?"

Dobby nodded excitedly and disappeared.

Should we look around or wait for him to finish?

There's no way of knowing exactly how big this place is. Dobby could be gone for a while.

Taking the hint, Harry began exploring the courtyard himself, taking great care not to accidentally step on any of the dozens of skeletons or dusty wands laying on the ground. It was massive, easily the size of the Hogwarts grounds, perhaps even larger. It was hardly impressive, mostly overgrown grass divided by stone walkways leading to various parts of the fortress. The walkways were cracked and broken, with weeds sprouting in the spaces provided.

Beneath the weeds, in some parts, Harry could discern scorch marks. Other parts bore the telltale signs of battle: indentations caused by projectiles gashes in the dirt and stone by Diffindo, and craters caused by Bombarda. This fortress had seen a massive battle between magicals, and it had stood silent for who knows how many years, waiting for someone to claim it.

This time, it would be him.

Ten minutes later, during which Harry managed to find an enchanted armoury, a forge powered by magical fire, and a duelling arena, Dobby made his return.

"Dobby back Great Harry Potter. Dobby happy to say no bad magics found on island."

"Excellent work Dobby, thank you. During your search did you find anything that seemed unusual?"

"Dobby found big metal door, like one used in Family Safes, sir! Also, there be big book in Big Hall of Fortress sir!"

That metal door sounds like a vault. If it's like Family Vaults or Safes, as Dobby said, then we'll need some curse-breakers as a precaution. But that 'big book' sounds promising.

"Dobby, can you take me to the Big Hall so I can see the big book?"

"Easily sir!"

The next moment they were standing in the 'Big Hall' as Dobby called it. While it did bear some resemblance to the Great Hall of Hogwarts, this was oriented more like a throne room. The walls were covered in tapestries depicting scenes ranging from the discovery of an island, to the building of a fortress, to a coronation. Taken together, it was undoubtedly the history of the island, but that wasn't what stood out.

At the far end of the room was a stone dais, with a throne atop it. The throne wasn't made of gold but dark wood, carved with intricate symbols and iconography. But the most notable thing about this throne was it was occupied. Seated atop the throne was another skeleton, this one wearing wizard robes that had rotted away with his flesh. Atop the skull was a gold circlet, inlaid with precious stones.

However, the most notable thing about this apparent Lord, was he was holding, as Dobby described it, a 'big book.' That actually seemed to be an understatement, as the book was at least as thick as Harry's upper arm, and big enough that holding it in your lap was mandatory.

Approaching the throne slowly, Harry made a silent prayer, begging whoever was listening that he might be forgiven for this desecration. Reaching out, he grasped the book in both hands and gently pulled it away from the skeleton. The hands held firm, clutching the book in death as in life, but gave way after a firm tug.

Gently opening the ancient book, he found his eyes drawn to a few distinct pages.

April 7, 1199

I write with a steady hand, but a heavy heart. King Richard lies dead, brought low by a crossbow bolt fired by a young boy. Never, in all my life, did I expect the mighty Lion to be brought low by an Ant. Though his death is a tragedy for all within the Empire, I fear worse is to come.

Despite serving alongside him during the Crusade, he saw fit to appoint me Court Enchanter and have me remain in England to watch that brother of his, John. Now, without a legitimate heir to the throne, dynastic conflict will begin. John in particular, though cunning in his own right, is petty and cruel, and perhaps worst of all, he is no warrior.

Even worse, John has little respect for Wizardkind. I highly doubt my influence at court will last should he take the throne. I've been forced to resort to Divination to find a way forward.

April 10, 1199

Success! After consulting with a centaur, I have learned of a possible solution: to the northwest of the Hebrides lies an island, one regularly clouded by violent storms. Perhaps most interesting, the island itself is home to an intersection of Ley Lines, a powerful focal point for magical energy! I must consult further, and see if I can find it!

April 17, 1199

At long last, I have found it! Through dream divination, I have seen the island itself. Known only as the Isle of Wrath, it is massive, home to an abundance of natural resources, and best of all, it is completely uninhabited. Neither man nor creature has claimed the island, leaving it ripe for settlement.

This is it. This is what I've been looking for! A home for wizards, one where we can be safe from Muggles, and they can be safe from us.

It will take a great deal of work, but I've still got my wealth, and best of all, I'm still owed favours by others in the court. Time to collect.

Now that Harry had a name, he pulled out the mirror and contacted Keeper Ragnok.

"Ah, Heir Potter, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. How goes your search?"

"I've found the perfect safe house for Sirius. To the northwest of Britain lies an island called the Isle of Wrath. It's a got self-contained ecosystem and a massive fortress to boot. All it lacks is intelligent company, but I don't intend for this to be permanent. How long until we can get a portkey for the island?"

"That might take a bit of time. Portkeys require that you know exactly where you want to go. I've never heard of the Isle of Wrath, and I'm not sure if you can help us in that manner, even with your memories."

"Forgive me, Great Harry Potter sir, but maybe Dobby can help goblins?" Dobby chimed in with an apologetic look, but hopeful tone.

"That might actually work Heir Potter. It still might take time, but it'll be more akin to minutes or hours as opposed to hours and days."

"Very well then. Dobby, return to Gringotts and assist however you can in making the portkey. I'll remain here in the throne room. Maybe this book can tell us more."

With that Dobby disappeared, and Ragnok deactivated the mirror, leaving Harry Potter alone with the massive tome.

May 27, 1199

John's coronation is today. I should be present as Court Enchanter. But he's made it clear these last few weeks that he has no intention of keeping me around. My loyalties to King Richard make my loyalties to him come into question. I've gathered what supporters I can. We've prepared 3 ships to take us to the Isle, where we will set up our new home.

As I write this, I await the arrival of my sons Aurelius and Claudius. Once they arrive with the last of our settlers, we will set off. May Lady Magic guide us to our salvation.

June 6, 1199

Even with magic powering our sails, it took us a week to find the Isle, but we've done it. The Isle of Wrath is ours! It's taken us a few days to set up, but thanks to the elves we've already begun establishing a permanent settlement. I, however, intend to build us something grand, something that will stand the test of time!

Time to begin exploring.

February 1, 1200

We've done it! After finding the exact point of intersection for the ley lines, my sons and I got to work. It's taken months of labour, even with all our power, but we have finally done it! Our fortress is complete!

With this fortress, we now have the ultimate safe haven, should the island ever be found by those wishing us harm. Should those who find us seek our hands in friendship, it will serve as a demonstration of our power and influence. We've also begun using it as a school for the youngest of our community, as well as a meeting place.

But we have a problem. These past few months over wizards have heard of our island and sought us out, bringing their families with them, As we've grown, we've begun to experience a crisis of leadership. I've spent so long focused on this fortress that I've neglected my people. My sons have a proposal for me, one they reason is an efficient way to solve this crisis.

I await their arrival.

November 1, 1200

It has been many months since I've last made an entry in this tome. My son's proposal was shockingly simple, yet effective as they put it. Instead of allowing this bickering to continue, they convinced me to claim the mantle of leadership and proclaim myself Lord of the Isle of Wrath. Some of our new arrivals were hesitant, as was I, but the others seem to have accepted it, even encouraged it.

Anything must be better than the constant bickering.

As of last night, I was crowned Cicero Arcadius, Lord of the Isle of Wrath. May my reign be marked by prosperity.

It will be years before that ever feels natural to me.

July 19, 1231

30 years. It's been 30 years since I became a Lord. For 30 years our island has known a time of plenty. Our farms produce an abundance of food, our forests still teem with game, the sea still gives us its bounty, and our people remain as industrious as ever. We have built homes, started families, and lived our lives well. My sons have made me a grandfather several times over, and the children have brought me no end of joy.

But my sons have also been the cause of many headaches. As the years have passed, it almost feels natural that one of my sons should inherit the Lordship, and rule the Island when my time has come. But the question is which one?

Aurelius, my eldest, is seen as the natural choice by many. He is wise and powerful, with a strong will and a gentle heart. He seeks only to maintain the peace, and let our people know a continuing age of prosperity. He has even proposed reconnecting with our brothers in England. Henry III seeks to rebuild the Empire, and Aurelius believes we have a duty to aid our brothers in this struggle.

Claudius is another matter. My youngest is like his brother, strong-willed and powerful, but I can see the ambition in his heart. He has made friends among the so-called 'pure-bloods' that have settled here, attracted by the prospect of an all-magical society, akin to Atlantis. He too seeks to return to England but at the head of a conquering army. He seeks to build an empire of his own, one with the 'pure' at the top, and all others beneath them.

I can barely keep them from fighting every time they come within spitting distance. I must find a way to bring them together if only to secure the continued prosperity of our people.

October 31, 1245

Aurelius is dead. My eldest lies dead, killed by his own brother.

After 45 years of peace, we saw fit to organize a grand festival for All Hallow's Eve. Everything was going well until Claudius stood in the middle of the Hall and called upon me to make war upon England so that we might seize our rightful place as the rightful rulers of mankind. The cheers of his supporters were not as loud as I feared, but louder than I had hoped.

As I prepared to give my answer, Aurelius stood and made his opinion known. He denounced the plan, calling it the 'twisted dreams of broken men.' That got the loudest cheers I've heard since my coronation.

Unfortunately, that sparked a furious battle of words, with Claudius calling his brother a 'cowardly dirt farmer' and Aurelius responding in kind. The back and forth reached a fever pitch when Aurelius said this battle wasn't worth any of their time and turned his back on Claudius. Incensed, he drew his wand and cast a Killing Curse, striking his brother in the back. He crumbled to the floor before anyone even realized what had just happened.

I didn't see the shock on Claudius' face, only the dead eyes of Aurelius.

I didn't hear his pleas for forgiveness, only the soft thud of a body falling to the floor.

I didn't feel anything, but a cold numbness, only for it to be replaced by a burning fury.

In my rage, I felt my power surge. Without even needing my wand, I let loose a blast of raw magic that cast Claudius and his followers from the Hall. I declared them traitors and kin-slayers and exiled them from the Isle.

Though I wish it were not so, I know this is far from over. May God have mercy on us all.

1250

5 years of civil war, and it ends with me.

With only me.

For five years we tore ourselves apart. The pure-bloods burned homes with wives and mothers trapped within. My followers slit the throats of children in their sleep. They laid siege for five years, while the Endless Tempest kept us trapped. Claudius proclaimed victory would bring a golden age for wizards. I could see only blood and dust, no matter who would win.

Everyone is dead. My grandchildren died in battle. Their mothers fell to poisons. All who once called this island home died, their bodies littering the courtyard. My own son, the last of my line, died by my hand.

But there is no joy in victory, only the foul taste of blood. There are no friends, only empty shells waiting to rot. There are no homes, only this damned fortress stands.

I'm dying. My wounds are mortal. If I could save myself, I would not. I no longer wish to continue.

With a final breath, I declare the mantle of Lord of the Isle of Wrath will pass on only to one judged worthy by Lady Magic. If you seek to claim this place, invoke her name, and let her decide if you are worthy. Those that are, shall receive the combined wealth of those that once lived here. The wards will answer to your will, and the Tempest will know you as its master.

Goodbye, friend. May you be more worthy than I was.

Well, that was depressing.

A dream of peace and prosperity, consumed by the fires of ambition. It is a tale as old as time.

Shall we attempt to invoke Lady Magic?

I wouldn't recommend it, but that's not going to stop you, is it?

Nope.

Drawing his wand, Harry stood ramrod straight and raised it high. "Lady Magic, I call upon you! I present myself as a contender for the Lordship of the Isle of Wrath. I ask that you judge whether I am worthy to inherit the title and all the responsibilities that come with it. So mote it be."

As soon as he finished, the room filled with a purple fog, one that surrounded Harry and lifted him into the air. He could feel the power behind the fog searching his mind, as he got flashes of past events. Events where he tried to do the right thing, rather than the easy. He saw the moments he stood between others and death without regard for his own safety. He remembered the love that pushed him forward and motivated his insane ritual backwards in time.

I hear your plea, Harry Potter. I find you a worthy heir. The Lordship is yours. Use it well.

As the fog dissipated, he slowly returned to the ground and felt the power of the wards answer to him now.

That was incredible.

I confess Harry, I feared my anger and desire for revenge would taint Lady Magics' view of you. But it didn't, you are worthy of this power.

Thank you, Goliath. Now, we need a name for this place.

Save that for later. I just felt the wards. Dobby's back, and he brought company.

Apparating outside, Harry saw that Dobby had indeed brought Keeper Ragnok with him.

"A fortress on a hidden island in the middle of an endless storm? You don't do anything by half, do you, Heir Potter?"

"Not at all, sir. How's the portkey?"

"Perfect as always. I trust it will be to your liking?"

"Absolutely. Now before we leave, I'd like for you to see something. Dobby, can you take us to the 'big metal door?'"

"Happily sirs!"

Dobby instantly brought them to a room in the upper levels, facing a window that looked out onto the courtyard. Behind them, stood a vault door, 12 feet tall, and 8 feet wide. Before Ragnok could offer the curse breakers, Harry reached out with his magic. He could feel the door, as it responded to his very will. It acknowledged him as its new master, and opened, to reveal its contents.

The inside was a haphazard mess. Stands for ceremonial robes stood jammed between racks carrying all manner of weapons, including swords, axes, and even maces. Suits of armour stood guard next to display cases featuring every sort of jewelry you could imagine. Everything from rings to necklaces, to circlets was on display. A trio of shelves, 20 feet high, held bars of every kind of metal imaginable, along with boxes of precious stones, tossed together in a non-sensical fashion.

But in the center of it all, stood five chests. When Ragnok approached them, he waved his hand over them and muttered something unintelligible to Harry.

"Heir Potter, each of these chests seems to contain 1,000 Galleons. But something's off about them."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't know. If I may?"

Nodding his approval, Ragnok was permitted to open one of the chests and inspect the Galleons. After inspecting one for a minute, he suddenly went stiff and stared at the Galleon in his hand, and the chests, in shock.

"Keeper, what's wrong? Are the Galleons cursed?"

"Quite the contrary. These Galleons are from the 1200s."

"So?"

"So 5,000 of these, translates to 30,000,000 today."

Wow.

Still think we should have checked the Potter properties?

Shut up, and get us back to London. I'm hungry.

Taking a dozen of the Galleons back to Gringotts, Ragnok opened a new vault for the Isle of Wrath Galleons to be transferred to. 12 of the Isle Galleons convert into 80,124 Galleons today, so Harry put 78,000 in the Vault, put 2,000 in his money pouch, and converted the rest into pounds.

From there he decided to enjoy Diagon Ally for the rest of the day, enjoying lunch at the Cauldron and proceeded to wander through the Alley. It nearly brought him to tears as he remembered the state it was in thanks to the Death Eaters. The boarded-up shops, the new ones dedicated to the Dark Arts, and the fearful looks of those cast aside by Voldemort and his lackeys.

This time, Voldemort would not destroy people's lives. He would not taint this place with his evil, and he would NOT allow the Death Eaters' corruption to spread any further than it already has. Florean would not be murdered by those soulless wretches, nor would that slimy bastard Malfoy get his hands on Garrick.

With determination filling his heart, he made mental notes of everything he would need by the time he went back to Hogwarts. By the time he finally went back to Privet Drive, after enjoying the best dinner Tom had ever cooked for a customer, the Dursleys were already asleep. Harry would soon drift to sleep, knowing that tomorrow would be another busy day, making a mental promise.

I will end their madness before it has a chance to begin.

Notes:Well, that was quicker than I expected. But I'm satisfied with what I've written.