Chapter Text
‘As I suspected,’ Krylik said, noting Hari’s surprised look. ‘Your greeting alone was telling, but the accent clinched it—it bears traces of Brythonic, an old language Goblins still recall. Such lore is preserved meticulously among our Nation, unlike with Wixen. You see, while the rise of Gringotts as the foremost institution to preserve the wealth of Wixen families is a relatively recent phenomenon due to various factors, the original foundation of the bank was in 1474, with its main office located in Hogesmeade—now known as Hogsmead village.’ He began, steepling his fingers together and leaning back in his chair before continuing.
‘Our initial customer base was primarily those families with enough wealth and power to have a need for a secure place to store their money and artefacts. Even before the inception of Gringotts, these powerful Wixen families had the habit of turning towards the Goblin Nation to produce the rings which would help to pass on Family Magics and distinguish themselves as Lords and Ladies.’ He lectured, attention focused on Hari.
‘To be able to afford these rings was an obvious show of wealth and power, so when Gringotts was established, it was able to provide extra protection for these Family Magics; our laws dictate that any object made by a Goblin will automatically be returned to the Goblin workshop which created it, though Witches and Wizards often forget these terms,’ Krylik growled, snorting in annoyance before clearing his throat to continue. ‘Old families saw the benefit of this, of negotiating with Gringotts every time a new Lord or Heir ascended to lease their family rings again. This helped to protect the Family Magics from theft, since Goblinkind in general is hardly interested in Wixen Family Magics.’
‘But—sorry—’ Hari interrupted, then winced at the impoliteness though Krylik waved for him to continue. ‘I want to warn you before we get further into the matter that there is a geas in place.’
Krylik nodded. ‘I will not ask questions, then. Regardless,’ he said, looking pointedly at Hari, ‘the Masters that you undoubtedly studied under and the powerful Wixen that you befriended during your time there did not forget you. They made legal assurances that passed down within family records until they were ultimately given to the care of Gringotts. It appears that someone—’ he threw a hard look towards Sirius, then, who gave a sheepish, if slightly confused smile, ‘—had let slip that Gringotts was the premier bank of the 20th century Wixen world and these individuals took this to mean that anything they might leave for you would ultimately be delivered if left in the care of the bank, for all that it did not exist at the time.’
This statement was met with ringing silence as Hari’s mind whirled. Friends from nine hundred years ago had left him things without him being the wiser, and Sirius’ big fat mouth had potentially changed the course of the Wixen world through the promotion of a bank that hadn’t even existed.
‘I ah—I apologise, Krylik—’ Sirius said sheepishly, cutting through Hari’s stunned fugue. Krylik chuckled.
‘No need, Lord Black. It could be said that Gringotts bank owes its success to you, though you would be hard-pressed to find a Goblin who would ever admit such a thing, myself included.’
Sirius barked a laugh. ‘Of course not, though I’m thankful for the result all the same.’
Krylik’s grin was wicked. ‘As are we all. In any case, Heir Potter, while there were undoubtedly some bequests that did not make it to the bank, a few of them did manage the feat—one in particular that the Goblin Nation is very… keenly anticipating. However, we shall begin with Lord Black, as I imagine his acceptance or rejection may affect your own. Now, we have one more bequest made to Lord Black, with an accompanying scroll.’
Hari exchanged a confused glance with Sirius as Krylik silently reached into the chest again, this time extracting a small azure box and a parchment cracked and mottled with age, sliding them across the desk towards Sirius.
‘Ronan…’ he breathed, and Hari couldn’t stop his own sharp intake of breath.
‘The House Ring of the Lord of the Utmost Ancient and Most Noble House of Redvers. I will assume the usual agreements apply.’
Sirius swallowed thickly, nodding slowly as he reached out to take the scroll, unrolling it with careful reverence as emotion visibly tightened his expression and magic.
‘Ronan, by the grace of our Lady Magic of Enga Land—’ his godfather began, the Old French low and smooth. It had always been Sirius’ best language in the past.
‘Sirius, you don’t have to—’ Hari interrupted with concern, but his godfather just shook his head.
‘No, I…no. It’s alright, Hari. He would have wanted you to hear, also.’ He assured, then took a deep breath before continuing. ‘—Lady Magic of Enga Land, Magical Earl of Dumnonia, recognised by Our Majesty William, King of Enga Land, to his beloved friend Sirius Orion Black of the House of the Black Prince, greetings. My dearest Sirius, know that before Lady Magic, for the health of my Soul and those of my ancestors, to the Honour of the Old Ways and the exaltation of Magic itself, I bequeath the Familial Magic and Line of the House of Redvers so that you might pass this Blessing on and ensure the continuation of my Line. From the moment we met that fateful day at Hogewáþe, after the death of my Wife and Heir and the battle which secured the rightful throne of My King, I knew within my Heart that I would never find the like in a companion, and so determined that the safest path would be through the Gift of Magic, to you and Hari both, so that you may Remember and Cherish the time we had and that it may Guide you forward through the unknown Trials you are both sure to face. I love you, my Sirius, My Wild Dog Star,’ and Hari was alarmed to hear the choking sob his godfather made before clearing his throat, voice thick.
‘And while I Desire that you may find true Happiness in the future, I selfishly hold hope that you shall Remember the times we have shared in Harmony. Given by my hand in the valley that is called Hogesmeade, on the t-twentieth day of July in the twelfth year of the reign of William.’
The scroll slipped through Sirius’ fingers into his lap. Hari immediately knelt beside his godfather, rubbing soothing circles into his back. It took a few long moments for the man to centre himself again, wiping tears furiously from his cheeks and murmuring apologies that Hari dismissed without a thought before he finally calmed down enough to speak.
‘My apologies, Krylik.’ He whispered, voice cracking.
‘None necessary, Lord Black. I can hardly imagine being separated from those I love by such a distance. Please, take your time.’
But even with the reassurance, Sirius darted forward to grab the azure box tightly, knuckles white.
‘It’s alright, Sirius,’ Hari murmured, ‘we can take a break—’ but Sirius shook his head.
‘No, I—I want to—’ he said, voice tinged with desperation and trailing off as he opened the box to gently pull out the band from inside, the box vanishing. Unlike the Black ring, the ring of Redvers was almost delicate, though still masculine; the band was simple and silver for the most part, though towards the setting the silver seemed to seamlessly widen and grow into the shape of golden waves buffeting the brilliant azure tourmaline it encased which shone like the sea.
‘I, Sirius Orion Black of the Most Ancient and Utmost Noble House of the Black Prince, do so solemnly swear to uphold the duties and rites expected of me as the head of the Utmost Ancient and Most Noble house of Redvers. May the Magic of the ancestors of those that have bequeathed this line guide me to continue the glory and strength of the House of Redvers,’ he chanted, thrusting the ring on his left index finger—a bit slower than his Black ring as the size increased to fit—and once again Hari watched in awe as a flash of azure magic spilled forth like water from the ring to wrap around him. After a moment, the magic flowed delicately through his own, merging readily to create a beautiful slate grey blue that danced along Sirius’ skin. It would take some getting used to.
‘Congratulations, Lord Black.’ Krylik said solemnly, his face serious and respectful.
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you need a minute, Pads?’ Hari asked, still concerned.
The journey from the past had been difficult for Hari, but for Sirius it had been devastating. He hid it well, but it was obvious in his exaggerated excitement the last few weeks. Living in the past had given him the time and distance to heal after his horrific experiences in the modern world, and the people he had met there had been essential for him to grow into the strong, fun-loving man he was today. Ronan Redvers had been his greatest source of stability, especially on those days and nights where the bone-deep chill of Azkaban made him shiver and shake.
Hari knew his godfather hadn’t meant to fall so deeply in love, but Ronan had been unexpected, showing up at Hogewáþe five years previously to take over as the secondary Transfiguration Master after his wife and heir died in childbirth. They had been nearly inseparable, and it killed them both that Sirius was forced to return. Hari hated that he’d been the biggest factor preventing the happiness of his godfather, though he knew Sirius would scold him if he ever voiced such a thing.
‘If it helps, Lord Black, Lord Wyllt has left documents listing the resting place of the last Lord Redvers within a vault opened in the Redvers’ name.’
Hari started at the mention of Merlin—or who he assumed was Merlin—but Sirius just closed his eyes as Krylik continued.
‘I believe there is also a property left in the care of Lord Wyllt. I cannot be sure of the state of it, of course. Your ring, however, should serve as a portkey, whenever you wish to claim the wards.’
‘Thank you, Krylik. I…thank you.’ He sat, just breathing slowly for a few moments before giving Hari a sad smile. ‘Now, I think it’s your turn, Pup.’
Krylik gave a nod. ‘Very well,’ he said, reaching into the chest and pulling out a lacquered wooden box, its lid covered in marquetry depicting a beautiful blooming lotus surrounded by a snake.
‘The Ring of the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter,’ he began, placing the box at the edge of his desk. ‘The Potter rings are not Goblin-made, Mister Potter, having originated in India many centuries before Goblins set foot on those shores. There are no terms for leasing, but the Potter family has paid service to Gringotts for the collection of rings in the event that the Lord or Heir passes. Would you like to continue this service?’
Hari swallowed, a bit overwhelmed. His family was so old? Not that it mattered—not really—but he’d never even suspected. ‘Ah…yes please, Krylik,’ he responded, taking the box carefully and rubbing his fingers over the lacquered image. ‘What does the design mean?’ He asked his godfather.
‘The lotus and the snake are symbols of Vishnu, Pup. He’s a triple God—creator, protector, and transformer of the universe. Your parents chose your name in his honor. We were at war, and James had been cursed sterile during a Death Eater raid. It devastated them…your parents wanted a child desperately—wanted you desperately—enough to resort to begging the Gods. When they learned of Lily’s pregnancy they were happier than I had ever seen them.’ He paused for a moment, smiling but seemingly far away before he shook himself gently. ‘But then they found out you may be targeted by Voldemort. It was terrifying. Your parents wanted to give you any means of survival, even through your name. They’d have gone to any length to help protect you, pup. They loved you more than anything.’
Hari swallowed, nodding. His chest felt tight and throat thick with emotion. It made sense, but it was overwhelming to be so aware of the fact that his parents had given him everything—even their lives—just to protect him.
‘I…yeah,’ he murmured, for lack of anything better to say. What could he say in the face of such sacrifice? After a moment he took a deep breath and opened the box. The ring inside was beautiful—rough, hammered gold with inset polished, flat white stones along the band leading to a massive rose-cut red gem that seemed to glow even in the dim light of the room.
‘Your grandfather told me once—the white are magical diamonds from Golconda mines, the region where the Potters—Purandares—immigrated from. I’m not sure if they came from there originally. India is impossibly old. In any case, in Golconda they were a noble family but fled after Prataparudra I took control of the region, oppressing the local nobility in the 12th century. Apparently they changed their names once they settled here to better fit in with the local population in Gloucestershire. A potioneer named Linfred became the first to be called Potter in name, I think. The family was well-known for taking in or marrying Indian immigrants to afford them better protection, regardless of blood status. It’s why they’re not considered one of the Sacred 28.’ He gave a shrug. ‘The red stone is called a spinel. I'm not really sure if there's meaning behind it.’
Hari just stared at the ring, fascinated. This was a piece of his family history—a piece of his history—one he’d spent his entire life longing to know more about. Even though he was deeply grateful for the family he had found in Sirius, Merlin, Arthur, and the Morrígan, their love could never fully heal the emptiness left in his parents’ wake.
A part of him hated himself for that— hated that he was privileged to grow up surrounded by the love and encouragement of such amazing people, and yet he felt like something was always missing.
As always, Sirius seemed to know exactly what to do in the face of his self-flagellation and Hari startled when a strong, supportive hand clamped down gently on his shoulder.
‘It’s alright Hari,’ he assured with a soft smile and gentle eyes. Hari swallowed and nodded slowly, then reached down to take up the ring with shaky breath.
It was heavy—heavier than he had anticipated, despite the sheer size of the spinel. As soon as he did, he felt a surge of warm, comforting magic licking against his own like a flame. He stared at it in awe as it grew, gradually, engulfing his own golden magic in a burning, flickering red.
‘I, Hari James Potter of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, do so solemnly swear to uphold the duties and rites expected of me as the Head of the Noble House of Potter. May the Magic of my ancestors guide me to continue the glory and courage of the House of Potter,’ He stated, the words spilling from his lips without his active participation and he watched himself place the ring on his right ring finger. The magic swirling around him brightened, flames of Potter magic absorbing his own until there was a flash so bright he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut.
He was disappointed to open them and see that his magic remained its usual gold. After a minute, though, he felt it—the warm, flickering flames of the Potter Family Magic underneath the buzzing, musical thrum of his own.
‘Congratulations, Lord apparent Potter. Now, we have three more bequests to go—assuming Lord Black would name you Heir to House Redvers as well?’
‘Yes. Hari is my Heir in all matters.’ Sirius responded before Hari could open his mouth, and Krylik nodded, reaching into the chest once again.
‘As I suspected,’ he said, before pulling out both a black lacquered box and an azure box similar to the ones given to his godfather. ‘The Heir ring of the Most Ancient and Utmost Noble House of Black, and the Heir ring of the Utmost Ancient and Most Noble House of Redvers,’ he announced, sliding the boxes towards Hari smartly.
Hari grabbed the Black box first, somehow feeling it important to solidify his connection to his godfather over his connection to Ronan. The ring inside was a simpler version of the one adorning Sirius’ finger, but no less beautiful for it. Looking closer, he was surprised to see what appeared to be stars within the stone. He took it without hesitation, hoping his lack would show Sirius how much it meant to him to truly be connected through magic, and the Black Family Magic swiftly creeped outward to entangle with his own.
He intoned the ritual wording carefully, slowly moving the ring up his left forefinger and waiting for it to resize as it went. The Black magic responded, more sharply than the Potter magic had done, its snaking tendrils squeezing his own magic so tightly he let out a harsh breath before it finally relaxed and the tendrils grew inward, the magic absorbing into his.
He was startled from examining the feeling by Sirius’ hand clasping his.
‘I love you, Pup. I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful heir to my House,’ he said with a proud, almost goofy grin.
Hari felt himself tearing up, smiling in the face of Sirius’ approval. ‘Love you, too, Sirius,’ he whispered, then turned his attention back down into his lap where all that remained was the azure box.
The Heir ring of Redvers was much more simple than Sirius’ — a silver and gold band with a small inset tourmaline—and more than just seeing the magic, Hari felt like he could taste the salt-spray of the sea washing all around him.
His ritual intonation was quicker this time, though he was no less careful of his wording. As he slid the ring on his left ring finger, the Redvers magic rose, the sound of waves crashing and gulls calling all around him as the salt smell intensified tenfold before suddenly it quieted, the azure blue absorbed by his own brilliant gold.
‘Congratulations,’ Krylik began slowly, his voice low and intense enough to make Hari shift nervously. ‘There is just one more bequest made to you—an unusual one to say the least. In Goblin lore it is said that the only one who may lay claim to this magic is not a Wizard at all.’
Hari swallowed and Sirius' magic stilled dangerously, but Krylik merely held out his hand in a placating gesture. ‘Do not mistake me, Lord apparent Potter. Wizardkind might recognize the family name,’ Krylik explained carefully, ‘but the true meaning and significance behind it—the power it signifies—is known only among magical creatures. Goblins will keep your secret upon pain of death.’ His eyes bored into Hari’s, incredibly intense. ‘The Balance has been disrupted for some time. I am sure you can feel it,’ he said gravely, and Hari could only close his eyes and give a small nod in reply.
He could feel the Balance. All the time, from the moment they had stepped foot in a dirty alley in the middle of modern London. It screamed at him, for him, broken and desperate. It had taken a huge amount of concentration and Occlumency to quell it so he wasn't constantly overwhelmed during the first few days at Grimmauld Place.
‘Then it is fortunate indeed you have arrived now, young Warlock. Your presence could help restore the Balance—and know this: among Goblinkind, you will find only allies.’ The words rang with a magic of promise, and Sirius sucked in a sharp breath. After a moment, though, Krylik’s serious look turned wicked and smiling once more. ‘Now, the ring.’
The box he pulled from the chest was unlike any of the others thus far. It was larger than the rest; not elegant or beautiful, but simple, unadorned, and roughly carved of a light wood bleached with age topped by a loose lid. Instead of setting it down as he had the others, Krylik instead rose from his seat and walked around his desk to present it directly into Hari’s hands. The box seemed to thrum with magic so warm and familiar it made Hari’s eyes begin to sting.
‘Merlin,’ he whispered, taking a moment to bask in the flare of comfortlovemagicpower in his palm before gently opening it.
Inside lay two objects, though the ring caught Hari’s attention first and he couldn’t control his unwitting gasp. With shaking hands he retrieved it, the crystal facets smooth and cold against the tips of his fingers.
‘The Crystal of Neahtid,’ the words were ripped from his lips without warning and echoed heavily with whispering voices, ‘bears witness to the second coming of the Once and Future King. It shall be he, so named Hari James Potter, with the magic of the Emrys and the sword of Arthur, who will restore the Balance to the Land of Albion and bring forth the new rise of the Empire of Avalon through the House of Wyllt.’ He couldn’t look away, eyes so focused on watching his hand slip the crystal ring on his right forefinger without his control that he didn’t notice the terror rising on his godfather’s face and the awe within the eyes of Krylik.
As the ring set, both heavy and light on his knuckle, a burst of golden magic rocked the room; the chandelier shook above them, candles extinguishing as they fell, and the marble cracked along the floor and walls. The massive rush of power built up around him, through him, until he couldn't be sure where his body ended and the magic began. He felt like he was splitting, becoming one with the earth, with the Deep, feeling every gently flickering life in the Alley and beyond.
Then, abruptly, it ceased. Hari remained seated, breathing heavily and clutching the box tightly, heart racing as the overwhelming sensation faded into a manageable hum beneath his skin. After a beat he was glad he had done as the full force of a worried Sirius slammed into his side in a tackling hug.
‘Mordred’s balls—I should’ve stabbed that man more,’ Sirius whispered, gripping Hari tightly. ‘Are you alright?’
Hari chuckled, feeling almost drunk on the magic thrumming under his skin. ‘I’m fine, Pads. And you know better than to stab him anyway, it just irritates him.’
It took a moment and a heavy grunt before they both turned to see Krylik rising awkwardly from where he had been thrown against a wall. He gave Hari a smirk.
‘Congratulations, Heir Wyllt. May I be so bold as to assume the cost of the damages will be taken from the Wyllt vaults? Or would Lord Black prefer to see to it as your guardian?’
Sirius finally released him, sitting heavily back down in his own chair. ‘Take the cost from the Black vaults, Krylik, with our apologies.’
As the Goblin situated himself once more behind his desk, Hari turned his attention back to the remaining object in the box and grinned. It was a small claw—a very familiar small claw—pure white and polished and attached to a short gold chain with a simple gold box cap covered in minute filigree Ogham runes. The other end of the chain finished in a small, gold hoop earring. He lifted it gently from the box, careful not to tangle the chain, and despite the obvious weight of the claw it felt almost weightless. ‘Well, looks like I’ll be getting that piercing earlier than you wanted,’ he said gleefully, turning to Sirius and waiving it. Sirius only sighed.
‘Alright, alright. It’s safe enough in this period, I suppose,’ he grumbled, grudgingly. ‘But I'm doing the spell myself.’
‘Yes!’ He said excitedly, then paused when he caught sight of the look of shock on Krylik's face; the Goblin’s eyes had widened impossibly large.
‘Is that—’ he gasped softly, leaning forward. ‘The Claw of Aithusa?’
Hari blinked in surprise, then nodded slowly. ‘Oh…well, yes. Merlin said he’d send it, to mark my status officially.’
If anything, Krylik’s eyes seemed to bug out even further.
‘Status? Further than that of the Once and Future King?’
‘Hari is a Dragonlord,’ Sirius answered with a put-upon sigh, but it was negated by his proud smile. ‘Something about…Merlin having to donate magic to Hari when the soul shard in his scar was removed.’
Krylik’s expression darkened suddenly, intensity replacing astonishment. ‘Wait—what do you mean, soul shard?’