Chapter 1 - Farewells

A man grunts lightly, and slumps down against a dark stone wall, an equally dark

grey cloak obscuring his features to the naked eye. Finally coming to rest, rather

unceremoniously, one the cold ground, the cowl of his cloak slips from his face with the

barest of thought from him. Bright, hauntingly green eyes survey the destruction before

him, slits shrinking rapidly. Unruly black hair sways in the wind, collecting soot and

debris kicked up into the air. The remnants of what seems to be scales sink into the skin

on his neck, and his reptilian, slitted eyes return to normal. He takes a deep breath,

inhaling through his aristocratic nose, and exhaling through full lips. His face is covered

in dirt and grime, as if unwashed for days.

The great green forest that should have stood before him lay in ashes. The great

fire that was unleashed had burned everything, and everyone, to nothing. Only the

blackened stumps of a few trees remained. Along with that thrice-damned rock, a jagged

monument to his own childish stupidity standing tall and proud still.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he looked up, the crumbled walls of a

tower standing above him. The sky, too blue, in his mind, for the massacre that had

occurred, a great and seemingly unending expanse spread out above him. He felt, for a

moment, small. This grand phenomenon had stood for billions of years, and why should

his troubles affect it? He felt it should. The pollutants in the air, too heavy to be held

afloat, slowly dissipated and fell to the ground over the next few minutes. A small drip

could be heard, if one were to listen carefully.

The man closed his eyes, imagining the children that used to play here, that used

to learn here. The children that used to do so many wondrous things, that would open
the mind to the true wonders of the world. They were no more. Too many had joined the

call, or had run screaming for the hills, or had simply died, too stupid to know what’s

good for them. Great barriers had been erected, and none could leave anymore. Not for

many years, could anyone leave. The world had abandoned them.

Good, the man thought, Who in the hell needs them?

The people who had ran, he mused, they were the smart ones. They weren’t

around for the horrors. The horrors that had built him, that had made him powerful,

and later confident.

The man reveled in it, and would have had it no other way the first time around.

Well, that is not entirely true. A country, people to know and befriend, a woman

to care about, a soulmate perhaps.

Ah well, fuck that apparently. I missed my chance with that one.

Closing his eyes, he slips from the waking world. A few minutes after that, he

shudders ever so slightly, and his heart slows down. The bright blue sky shifts, ever so

slightly, as if it too were shuddering. Not ten minutes later, he has drawn his last breath

and departed from this world, bound for the next. The sky was the only herald for the

man, as it had been his whole life.

Rupture

Eyelids flutter open, bright green eyes looking out upon the ceiling above him. A

right hand quickly raised above his head. Two long, jagged scars run along the forearm,

testament of the great basilisk that he defeated. Dropping his arm and sitting up, he
casted for his glasses. Slipping them over his eyes, he looked over the room. Just as it

always was in this god-awful place. Too small, and with too little personal effects. Just a

trunk and a bird cage. The scar on his head throbbed, and he scowled.

I had almost forgotten.

Slipping out of bed, his wand in hand, he looked for a shirt. Seeing a dark green t-

shirt, he slipped it over his strong, toned upper body. Thank God for Quidditch. Taking

off his pajama shorts, he put on underwear, socks, and shorts. A trip to the goblins is in

store for today.

Shoving his two feet into the sneakers by his door, he opens it quietly to step into

the hall. The stupid brutes are still asleep, luckily, and do not notice him vacate the

house through the front door. Quickly walking to the park, he steps into the shadow of a

tree. Thanking his lucky stars that apparition is wandless magic, a soft crack sees him off

from Surrey.

Another soft crack in an alley next to a monstrous building of stone sees the boy

standing there, where he was not standing just moments prior. It is, however, too early

in the morning for anyone to notice. Walking swiftly from the alley, the early-morning

sky illuminates him. Ascending the steps to the grand bank, the words greet him, as they

always do.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Smirking to himself, he throws open the doors, the grand hall of the bank

greeting him. He approaches the teller, the great desk allowing the goblin to sit above

him. Subtle.

“Greetings, Teller Snaggletooth,” he says.

“A fine day to you, boy,” the goblin says.

“I was wondering if I could receive an Inheritance Test?”

The goblin raised an eyebrow, “Most certainly. Head over through the hall to your

left, and wait in the lobby for a few moments.”

The bad rooms, dear Goblin? I assure you not.

“May your enemy’s blood fall from your blade eternal,” the boy said.

“And may the gold always flow from your coffers,” the goblin responded, on

instinct.

The boy nodded, and turned to the left.

“Ah, I apologize,” the goblin said. “I misspoke. If you would take the hall to the

right, you will receive your test shortly.”

The boy did a quick about-face, and proceeded into the hall, a smirk plastered

across his face. That’s what I thought.

centuries ago. There are only three doors, each set a few inches into the wall, and all

opening outwards. There were no seats along the walls. There did not need to be. No

sooner had he entered the hall, then a door had opened. The door to the right.

Acceptable.

He entered the room, not wasting one second. Stepping inside, the boy saw what

one might think a peculiar sight. The office was made of the same stone as the hall he

had entered from. There was no decoration, only a desk, the chair behind it for the

goblin, two chairs in front of it, and some filing cabinets in the corner. The only light

was from a fire burning across from the desk, to the right of the door.

“It is a most peculiar day, when someone understands our customs, especially

one so young as yourself,” the goblin said, leaning forward onto his elbows. He gave a

menacing grin, scars crisscrossing his face, a testament to the hardships he had faced to

ascend to this position.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” the boy responded. “Now, I do believe we have

business to attend to.”

One more feral grin. I do not take too kindly to these tests, goblin.

“Ah, yes, your inheritance test,” he said, procuring a paper and a decidedly deadly

looking dagger, serrated edges gleaming in the dim light. He lay the paper and the

dagger out on the desk before him.

The boy reached out, taking the dagger in his right hand. He raised his left hand,

bringing the tip of the dagger to his forefinger. He lightly stabbed it into his skin, the
cold metal easily slipping past any resistance offered. He showed no reaction, save a

slight wince. Dark red blood welled up once he withdrew the knife. He placed the finger

on the paper on the desk. Blood quickly seeped from the wound, scrawling out across

the page. Writing appeared from the unintelligible scribble.

Lord Harry James Potter

Born July 31, 1979

Aged 46 years

Titles:

Lord Potter, rite of birth

Lord Slytherin, rite of thrice-conquest

Lord Black, rite of birth

Heir Malfoy, rite of conquest

Lands:

Potter- Potter Manor, Godric’s Hollow Cottage, La Haute Tour

Slytherin- Slytherin Manor, One-Quarter Hogwarts, Chamber of Secrets

Black- Black Manor, Number 12 Grimmauld Place

Malfoy- None until obtaining Lordship

Holdings:

Potter Trust Vault- 50,000 Galleons

Slytherin Family Vault- 503,596 Galleons, assorted items estimated at 700,000,000

Black Family Vault- 100,057,881 Galleons, assorted items estimated at 27,000,000

Malfoy Trust Vault- 50,000 Galleons

The goblin merely raised an eyebrow at the peculiarity, but otherwise offered no

reaction. Harry smirked, seeing everything in place, as it should be. He pocketed the

dagger. The goblin then reached into his desk, pulling out a dark wooden box. Laying it

atop the paper, he opened it.

“These are your rings, my Lord,” he said.

Three rings appeared on the black velvet inside the box. The first one on the left

was gold, with a dark red ruby on the top of it, an image of a golden dragon embossed on

it. The second was silver, a bright emerald on top with the image of a serpent. Finally,

the last was shockingly simple, a band of obsidian that would go around the finger. A

silver raven in flight was seen on the top.

He slips the rings on one by one, each disappearing as the family magicks inside

of them accepted him as their Lord and Head of House. They were bound to his soul,

and would appear as he saw fit.

“I would like to see the Potter Family Vault,” he told the goblin.

“Of course.”

The goblin led him from the room, back through the hall, and into another

waiting room. This one had grand columns of marble and gold inlaid all about. Calling
for a cart, the two waited patiently for no more than a few seconds. A minecart

appeared, and the two stepped inside. The cart then shot off, traveling progressively

deeper into the bank at speeds that would leave lesser beings terrified. Lord Potter just

smiled.

Finally, they reached the final floor, and exited the cart once it had come to a

stop. The goblin led Harry through a stone tunnel that appeared to be centuries old, as

the office had before. Coming into a great cavern, twenty or so doors were presented

before them. The duo walked to the third from the left.

A simple metal door could be seen. Not quite so simple perhaps, once one made

out the fact that the metal that made up the door was subtly shifting. The Potter Family

Crest stood atop the vault. Harry raised his hand, willing the Potter Family Ring into

existence, and laid it upon the metal of the door. A single, crystal clear note of a phoenix

song rang out through the chamber, and the door swung inward.

He walked briskly through the first, high-vaulted chamber, past mountains of

Galleons, treasures, and trunks. All stacked up to the ceiling. Stepping through a small

archway, he proceeded into the second chamber, full of weapons, swords, daggers, and

even wands. Armor stood along the walls, hung with care, but most had lain untouched

for a very long time. Books and magical artifacts lay around the room, on desks, on the

floor, anywhere they could fit. Finally, he came to the next, and last, archway.

Much like the office from earlier, this room was similarly simple. The only thing

in the room was a short, white marble spire upon a raised section of the rock. At the tip

of the spire, roughly five feet off the ground, was a blood red diamond. It was this spire,
that Harry approached. Stepping up next to it, he placed both hands on the diamond,

and channeled his magic into it.

Just as when he did it the first time, the feeling was both intoxicating and

terrifying. Waves of power flowed through him and into the diamond, and then back

into him. He could feel the extremely potent blood magic purging his body, healing him

in preparation. A loud scream was heard, as a jet-black mist was shot from his forehead,

the scar to be exact, and later dissipated into nothingness. Any aches or pains that he

had before were now gone. Now for the fun part.

Agony suddenly shot through his body, starting at his hands, and then spreading

throughout. It was as if someone had placed scalding hot knives on each of his nerves. A

great bellow was unleashed from his throat. His bonds, on since that fateful Halloween,

snapped, and a great wave of magic was released from him, saturating the room in

overwhelming power. His pupils constricted, becoming reptilian once more. His cry

renewed as he grew rapidly, from about five feet six to six foot one. His skin felt as if it

were sloughing off, as a change came about him.

Starting at his fingers, great talons erupted from the tips. Dark black, shadowy

scales grew from out of his skin, coating first his hands, but steadily growing along his

arms. Up to his face and under his shirt they grew, down to the tips of his toes, where

talons came out from the tips of them as well, ripping through his socks and shoes. His

face, like his belly simply took on a dark shade of black, his canines and the teeth

directly in back of them elongated into fangs. A pained grunt escaped his lips, his

tailbone elongating, falling to the ground as a powerful tail. One last shout of pain was
given as great black wings burst forth from his back, flapping up and down to get used to

themselves.

The transformation finished, his hands fell from the spire, and he collapsed upon

the ground, clothes in tatters and breathing heavily. The first time sucks. After a few

minutes breathing heavily, he finally gathered the strength to stand. Bringing his hands

up before his face, he admired the scales in their new and unblemished form. It has

certainly been awhile. Concentrating only slightly, the scales and extra appendages

recede into his body. Once that was finished, he swept his left hand, transfiguring the

clothes back to normal. The scar that used to be so prominent on his forehead, now

barely noticeable against his otherwise pale skin.

He swept out of the room, through the first two chambers, and back through the

entrance to his vault. The goblin greeted him with a nod of his head, and a knowing grin.

The trip back up to the bank lobby was quick, as could be expected. He parted ways with

the short creature with a nod, and the custom goblin farewell that had secured him this

service. Walking from the bank, he quickly disapparated back to the park in front of the

Dursley’s.

Appearing in the shadow of the same tree that he had left from, he walked back

towards Number Four. There was a normally unseen skip in his step. The sizeable white-

painted house rose in front of him as he approached it. Damn, I do keep a nice house.

The immaculate lawn was kept green and tidy, and the flower beds that surround the

house were trimmed to perfection. It most likely would not stay this way for too long.

With a skip, a hop, and a shit-eating grin on his face, he knocked on the door as

loudly as he could. A great rumbling could be heard from inside the house, that stopped
a few moments later in front of the door. It swung open to reveal Vernon Dursley, his

face near purple in rage.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” he yelled. “Get in this house!”

Harry stepped inside, as Vernon made way for him. The door slammed shut, and

the fat man’s hand was sailing through the air towards Harry’s head. Smirking, Harry

leant his head slightly to the side, and whipped his hand up and towards Vernon’s neck.

The man stopped dead, feeling the cold metal of the knife pressed against his jugular.

“Now, listen hear uncle, and listen well. I will be leaving soon, forever, as it were.

I am going to grab my stuff from my room, and you will never see me again. Stay out of

my way.”

Pressing the knife into his neck for emphasis, a thin slice appeared, blood seeping

slowly out. A slight nod was his only response. Bringing the knife down and once more

pocketing it, he walked upstairs. Entering his room, he walked up to Hedwig’s cage. He

opened the door and ruffled her feathers slightly. She woke up slowly, giving her human

a few slow blinks before affectionately nuzzling into his hand.

“Alright, Hed, we are going to leave and never come back here. But first, I need

you to bring a letter to the Weasleys for me. Alright?”

The bird hooted, and then hopped up on top of her cage, stretching her wings out.

Harry quickly drafted his letter.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

early as I would like. I will most certainly be in time for the portkey to the match,

though. Perhaps I will stay the night before.

Thank you ever so kindly,

Harry James Potter

With his letter written, he rolled it up, and attached it to Hedwig’s leg. He held

out his hand with an owl treat that he took from under his bed, and she happily gobbled

on it. One or two affectionate nips to his ear later, and she is off, soaring out of his

window.

Harry quickly gathered what was left of his belongings into his trunk, ensuring

that they were secured. He summoned his wand into his hand, and gave it a wave. The

trunk soon shrunk down to the size of a small wallet. He put it into his pocket. He then

made his way out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door with no fanfare, and no

farewells. Without much ado, he procured his Potter Family Ring, and willed himself to

Potter Manor. The blood wards failed, as Harry James Potter left Number Four Privet

Drive for the final time, the sky finally bright blue as the morning faded away.

In a grand room, with extensive bookshelves, many paintings of old men and

women alike, and various gadgets sat an old, bearded man. He was humming happily to

himself, preparing for the upcoming school year. Suddenly his good mood was shot, as

many instruments that were whizzing and spinning suddenly stopped. Some even

exploded lightly. He was stood up in moments, with a speed that belied his apparent

age. With a crack, he disappeared.

bright white house with an immaculate garden and lawn. He ran to the door and

knocked it down. Ignoring the shouts of the inhabitants, he searched high and low

through the house. He was unable to find what he was looking for.