A/N: I do not own any character references by JK Rowling in the Harry Potter series or agree with her comments. This story is a product of my pure imagination. I do not profit from this and will not pay for any commissions for art about this story.
Maybe your wounds are what will keep you here.
Know that some pain takes more than time to heal.
If you find that you're at the end of your rope.
Know there's always somewhere left, that you can find some hope.
It's time to go home.
You've been away,
Way too long.
Home,
That place where you come from.
~Where You Come From by Hanson
/\/ ~*~ 5th May 2003 ~*~ /\/
Harry slipped quietly into Grimmauld Place and gently shut the door behind him. The silence of the old house welcomed him as he made his way to the warm glow spilling from the kitchen. Glancing inside, he saw Andromeda sitting at the table, the Daily Prophet lying on the table in front of her.
She glanced up, grinning. "Front page again."
Harry groaned, dragging a hand through his hair as he stepped into the kitchen and sank beside her. "I don't even want to know. At least I know it's not negative or false. They've finally learned they can't print rubbish about me without consequences."
Andromeda folded the paper, studying him. "I didn't expect you to be gone so long. How did it go? Did you get answers about yesterday?" she asked as she took a sip of her tea.
Harry leaned back, resting his hands on the back of his head, staring up at the ceiling. "I have a daughter."
Andromeda coughed, choking on her tea. "Say what now?"
"Hermione's daughter," Harry told her. "She isn't Ron's. She's mine. She was born in August after I left. Ron wasn't even around during her conception. There is no doubt in my mind that she's mine." He sat forward, running his hands down his face. "Fuck, Andromeda… Hermione showed me the letters. Letters that I never got. She kept copies, because it's her. The ones I saw weren't the ones I got. They were altered or never sent."
Andromeda gasped. "Who would do such a thing?"
Harry's throat tightened. "I think it was Kingsley."
Her jaw dropped. "Kingsley? Why on earth-"
"Dumbledore." Harry let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "He's still pulling strings even from the grave. He and Kingsley had a plan. If I won, they wanted me out of the picture. He said I'd be too progressive, too dangerous, to the way things have always been. My upbringing, my ideas, my connection to Voldemort… they were afraid of me changing the system."
Andromeda's expression hardened. "And the letters?"
"He swears he didn't tamper with them," Harry told her, "But he knew where I was. Hermione told me that he refused to tell me about Rosella when she was born. So even if he didn't put his hands on the letters, he knew about her. He kept her from me." His voice cracked, "I lost four years of my daughter's life. Four years, Andromeda. Because I was jealous, because I thought Hermione had chosen Ron even after she told me she hadn't. I was manipulated into believing she had. Now I wonder about Viktor… he just so happened to be at the Ministry when I was?"
Harry shot to his feet, pacing. "And then I came home, and I didn't even reach out to her! I let more time slip away. What the hell is wrong with me?"
Andromeda swallowed. "You can't change the past. You can only choose what comes next. A future that now includes both of them. That is, if you want it to."
Harry froze, "I don't-"
"Where have you been?"
Harry groaned, closing his eyes at the sound of Melinda's voice. It grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He turned toward the doorway to see Melinda standing in a silk dressing gown, arms crossed over her chest, glaring between him and Andromeda.
"I asked you a question," she pressed. "Where have you been? I woke up, and you were gone. Now it's nearly one in the morning."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I was… with Hermione."
Melinda's eyes narrowed. "Hermione?"
Andromeda cleared her throat, "I think that's my cue to head upstairs," she murmured. Touching Harry's shoulder as she passed, she slipped out of the kitchen.
Harry stood staring at Melinda, whose eyes were narrowed. "I found out something tonight. Something life-changing. Hermione's daughter, Rosella…" He swallowed. "She's mine. She's my daughter, Melinda."
Melinda blinked at him, "You're joking."
"I missed out on four years of her life because of lies, because letters were kept from me. Because I thought Hermione had moved on with Ron. But I was wrong, so wrong. Rosella is mine," Harry told her.
Melinda scoffed, "So what? Are you just going to play happy little family now? With her?"
Her words twisted something in his chest.
"I'm going to be in my daughter's life," Harry told her firmly. "Nothing, not lies, politics, or anyone, is going to keep me from her again."
Melinda laughed. "And what about me, Harry? What am I supposed to be? The fiancée that you bring along with you to school plays and birthday parties?"
Harry moved back. "I don't know yet. What I do know is that Rosella is innocent in all of this. She deserves to know her father, and I'm not walking away from her. Not again."
Harry felt bad when he saw Melinda's eyes glisten. "Then maybe you've already made your choice."
Harry looked at her. "Maybe I have. You can either be supportive or not. That's your choice."
Hermione woke early, before the sun had risen, and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling as the memories of the day before flooded back. Harry was back. Not just back, but had been sitting in her living room. Had held their daughter for the first time and said he wanted to be part of their lives. Her pieced-together heart was still struggling to believe it.
Then there was the other piece. The one that had kept her from sleeping for over an hour before pure exhaustion had hit her. He had a fiancée.
With a sigh, she pushed the covers off, slipping her socked feet into her slippers as she padded to the bathroom. Flicking the light switch, the light was unkind. The mirror showed her face still creased from the pillow during the night, her hair a frizzled, tangled mess. Her old t-shirt hung loosely on her frame, so worn it was nearly transparent, letting her see the outline of the shorts she wore to bed through it. She looked at her reflection for a long moment, her stomach twisting. Harry may have looked at her yesterday like she still mattered to him, but how could she ever compare to Melinda, who she imagined had perfect clothes, glossy, beautiful, straight hair, and a model smile.
Flicking off the light, she shook her hair, trying to shake away her thoughts, and made her way downstairs.
The smell of coffee stopped her on the final step. Hermione frowned as she hadn't so much as touched the pot last night. Walking into the kitchen, she froze.
Harry sat at the kitchen table, leaning back and relaxed, laughing over something as a box of pastries lay open in front of them.
"Hermione," Briar Rose said with a smile, making Harry look back at her and smile, "Harry brought us breakfast."
Hermione blinked in the doorway of her kitchen. "Did you even go home?"
Harry stood, brushing his hands on his jeans, before walking over to her coffee pot to pour her a cup of coffee. "I did. I got in a little after one. Flooed over this morning, I hope you don't mind."
She watched him in slight disbelief as he added mostly milk and just one spoonful of sugar before stirring it twice, then walking over to hand it to her.
Hermione swallowed hard, "You remember how I take it."
"Of course I do," he gave her a small smile. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to see how mornings work around here. I don't want to be a hands-off dad, Hermione."
Her heart gave a painful tug. He was here for Rosella. Of course, he was. She forced herself to take a sip of her coffee. "Okay, well. I usually start by making her lunch."
Harry followed her into the kitchen. "Sandwich, cut into triangles, no crust?"
Hermione glanced back at him. "Very important." She laid out the bread, ham, butter, and cheese on the counter. Smoothing the butter on the bread to build the sandwich, she looked at Harry as she layered it, then cut it and placed it in her lunchbox. "She gets one fruit and one veg. She loves apples and cucumbers, but she's picky with anything really." Walking over to the cabinet, she reached up high to grab the candy jar.
"Is that a tattoo?"
Hermione nearly dropped the jar as she turned around quickly.
"Hermione Jean, do you have a tattoo?" Camillo asked, surprised.
Hermione looked at her parents wide-eyed, "No! No… of course not."
Harry stared at her, "I could have sworn."
"Nope," Hermione said, shaking her head, "No tattoo. Probably just saw the tag of my shorts." She cleared her throat, "Anyways, she gets one piece of candy. She has your sweet tooth, so I give her one treat, and she has to finish everything else first."
Harry grinned as he leaned back against the counter, "Let me guess, you've tucked a toothbrush in her backpack too?"
Hermione gasped, smacking his arm with the butter knife. "You loon. Of course not! Kids can be cruel, you and I both know that. I'd never set her up for that."
Harry laughed, making something in her chest feel lighter than it had felt in years, as he stuck his hands up in fake surrender, while she put baby carrots into the container. "I'm glad she doesn't have a Dudley."
Hermione froze a moment at the underlying weight in his voice. Biting her lip, she used the apple corer to core and cut the apple, then put the slices into the lunchbox and closed it. "That's it, she drinks her water with it."
Rosella padded into the kitchen, her hair a wild nest of tangles, nightgown wrinkled, blinking sleepily, while rubbing her eyes, and paused when she saw Harry standing there.
Harry leaned closer to Hermione, "What is the little monster?"
Hermione smiled. "That would be Stitch, from Lilo and Stitch."
Rosella blinked again, then her eyes went wide. "Daddy? Daddy!"
Harry laughed as she barreled across the room, scoping her up and settling her onto his hip. "Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Looks like you like mornings about as much as your mum."
Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm as Rosella leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek.
"Good morning, my flower," Hermione said, smoothing her daughter's messy hair. "How did you sleep?"
Rosella launched into an excited retelling of a dream about gnomes in wellies trying to storm her castle and steal her crown. Hermione smiled patiently, listening as she fetched a bowl from the cupboard and poured cereal.
Harry frowned. "She can't have any pastries?"
Hermione's head whipped around, eyes wide, just as Rosella jerked up, her head connecting with Harry's chin. He grunted, his eyes instantly watering.
"Daddy?" Rosella squirmed until Harry had no choice but to put her down, darting off to the table, straight to her grandparents.
Harry rubbed his jaw dramatically, "Bloody hell, I bit my tongue."
Hermione bit back a laugh as she stepped closer, gently touching his chin. "Let me see."
He stuck his tongue out like a child, and Hermione leaned in, spotting a tiny dot of blood. "Just a little nick. Rinse with water, and your tongue will be fine. Warning, she has a hard head."
Before she could move away, Harry's arm slid around her waist, and his voice dropped. "You know… I can think of something my tongue-"
"Daddy!" Rosella shouted, charging them. Powdered sugar covered her mouth, red jelly smeared across her chin as he let go of Hermione. "Look! I look like a vampire!"
Hermione's heart raced as Harry crouched down to Rosella's height. "Yes, you do," he said as he brushed sugar off her nose.
Hermione pressed her lips together, trying to calm the flurry of activity within her chest. Harry looked so natural with Rosella, almost like he'd been there all along.
They drove to Spring Hill Academy with only the sounds of Rosella chattering from the backseat, about her newest book. Hermione pulled into the school loop, past the pickup line, into the car park. She was still unfastening her seatbelt when Harry was out of the car, opening Rosella's door.
Hermione got out of the car and walked around it to find Harry struggling with the buckle as Rosella tried to tell him how to get her out. Reaching past him without thinking, she pinched the top and bottom of the buckle together and pressed the release button with her pointer finger. The mechanism clicked, releasing the buckle.
Harry glanced at her, and she shrugged. "Practice."
Rosella launched herself into Harry's arms the moment he straightened his back, and Hermione grabbed the little backpack from the floorboard, smiling as she shut the car door. Across the lot, MacKenzie, Annie's mum, caught her eye and mouthed, "Who is that?" Hermione held her thumb and pinky to her face: call me.
"Who do you want to call?" Harry asked as they walked toward the school doors, Rosella's arms around his neck as she named the people she saw.
"No one," Hermione said as she hit the buzzer. The light blinked as the door unlocked, and they stepped into the vestibule where Mrs. Smith looked up from her desk.
"Hi, Mrs. Smith, I have a guest with us today," Hermione informed her.
Mrs. Smith blinked, "Just have him sign the visitors' book."
Hermione slid the book to Harry, and he took the pen and signed. Hermione closed it up and slid it back into place as Mrs. Smith smiled and buzzed them into the building.
Down the hallway, Hermione gave Harry a warning look. "Prepare yourself."
"For what?" He asked as she opened the door.
"ROSELLA!" a little voice yelled nearest to the door.
Then the room erupted into organized chaos. A small, happy mob of children, led by Annie, barreled at them as Harry set her down quickly. Hugging and shrieking as if they hadn't seen her in months. Miss Bailey guided them gently away from the door, with a calm that somehow kept the chaos in check.
"Hello, Ms. Granger," Miss Bailey said as the storm settled and Rosella was pulled over to the dollhouse.
"Hello, Miss Bailey," Hermione said as she turned to Harry. "I'd like you to meet someone. Harry, this is Miss Bailey, Rosella's teacher. Miss Bailey, this is Harry, Rose's father."
Miss Bailey blinked and did a once-over of Harry, "Hello, Harry. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you, too," Harry said as Rosella yelled his name. He dropped to one knee to be level with Rosella and little Annie. "You must be Rosella's best friend, Annie."
The little blonde girl nodded.
"That's a big responsibility. My best friend growing up was Rose's mum, and she was very important to me, so knowing that you are so special to Rose makes you a special girl." Harry said, making Annie beam. "We'll have to have you over for dinner soon."
Harry stood, and Hermione slipped her arm through his. "We'd better be going."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Harry!" Miss Bailey yelled as they closed the door.
Hermione tried not to roll her eyes as she walked back down the hall, then knocked on the office door. "Mrs. Smith, I need to add someone to the pickup list. How do I do that?"
Mrs. Smith looked up. "I can do that easily," she said as Harry came up behind Hermione, so close she could feel his body heat against her back. "Who are you adding?"
Hermione pointed above her, "Harry Potter. Mrs. Smith, this is Rosella's father. He's back in town, so he will be picking her up and dropping her off occasionally."
Mrs. Smith hit her knee under her desk, flinching, before typing into her computer. "All right, he is added to the approved pickup list. Are you changing the emergency contact information?"
Hermione smiled, shaking her head. "Not yet. Thanks!"
Leaving the building, she started walking to the car as he jogged up behind her, "What was that?"
"I know who the gossip of the teacher lounge will be today!" Hermione groaned as she unlocked her car and got inside, as Harry climbed in on the passenger side, "I know they gossip, but my God! Miss Bailey was practically falling over herself over you!"
Harry grinned as she backed out of the parking spot, "Why Hermione… are you jealous?"
"No!" Hermione defended, "It's just the gall of them."
Harry grinned, "I think you are a bit jealous."
Hermione playfully smacked him. "I will leave you on the side of the road, in this prime Muggle area, if you don't stop."
Harry laughed, rolling the window down as they drove back to Hermione's house.
The car ride was relatively quiet, and when they stepped inside her house, Hermione noticed straight away that the house was empty. Their teacups sat on a towel, freshly washed, and the faintest smell of her mum's perfume lingered near the front door.
"Meddlesome nellies," she muttered, kicking off her shoes.
"Who?" Harry asked.
"Nevermind," Hermione said quickly as she turned to him. "I have to go to work."
Harry walked into the sitting room and flopped onto her sofa, stretching out as if he owned the place. "Go ahead and get ready."
Hermione stood there. "You're just… staying?"
Harry shrugged. "The only plans I have today are Gringotts. No rush. Why? Do you want me to leave?"
Hermione sighed. "Suit yourself."
Darting upstairs, she closed her bedroom door before letting out a long groan as she saw her reflection in the mirror. "Fuck, I wore this to her school? I've gone insane!"
Tossing her purse onto the bed, it buzzed immediately. Fishing out her phone, she silenced the room with a flick of her wand and answered, pressing the speakerphone button so she could keep changing. "Hello?"
"Who the hell was that man with you today? Have you been holding out on me?" MacKenzie's voice shrieked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, and she tugged her shirt over her head. "MacKenzie, hello. How are you? I'm great."
"You sound exhausted," MacKenzie said.
Hermione snorted, placing her phone on her dresser as she opened it to look for a clean top. "That's because I just wrangled a six-year-old, while dealing with an entire school of gossips wondering about my former world-traveling doctor ex."
There was a pause on the other end. "So, he is Rosella's dad."
Hermione closed her eyes as she put her bra on.
"So? Spill. Who is he? You've told me that he was your past, that's it, and don't you dare tell me he's just some bloke you ran into a long time ago. The way he looks? I nearly fainted."
Hermione tugged on a fresh blouse and groaned. "MacKenzie!"
"Oh, don't MacKenzie me! That man is fit! Tall, broad shoulders, hair that screams 'I roll out of bed looking amazing', and… I could just imagine what a roll in the-"
"Not going there," Hermione said as she stepped into her trousers.
"So, he is Rosella's long-lost dad, correct?" MacKenzie asked.
"Yes," Hermione sighed, buttoning her blouse.
"Bloody hell, Hermione! You've been sitting on him for years?! The fathers and my husband all look like they get winded climbing stairs, and here you've got… him?!"
Hermione carried her phone into her ensuite and set it on the counter, running the tap as she squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush. "He wasn't here, Mac. He's only just came back, and he didn't used to look like that."
"From where, the moon?"
"Close enough," Hermione mumbled around her toothbrush.
"I had to run Bear Bear back to Annie because she forgot it after you left, and Miss Bailey, oh, Hermione, she was practically swooning, and Mrs. Smith was talking to Headmistress James about him. Honestly, how are you not clawing their eyes out to take your claim?"
Hermione spat and rinsed out her mouth, "Because I don't need to stake my claim."
"Ha! Spoken like a woman who totally does."
Hermione ignored her as she brushed her frizzy curls, and MacKenzie's voice softened. "But seriously… are you okay? He's back, and I'm sure it's a lot. Rosella's never actually seen him, right?"
Hermione swallowed as she started her makeup. "Yeah… It's a lot."
MacKenzie hummed. "Well! Since he's back, we'll have to arrange a nice dinner. Maybe Friday? I'll bring Annie and a bottle of wine, and-"
Hermione snapped her makeup compact shut, "Don't worry. Harry already invited your daughter over to MY house."
"What?!"
"Got to go!" Hermione cut her off as she ended the call before MacKenzie could speak.
She pocketed her phone, looking at her reflection, thankfully looking a little more human, before she headed back downstairs with her purse. Glancing into the sitting room, Harry was sitting comfortably on her sofa, a photo album open across his lap. Hearing her footsteps, he glanced up, and Hermione watched him close the album.
"So… what are you doing after Gringotts today?" she asked.
"Not a clue," Harry admitted, "Why?"
Hermione bit the inside of her lip, trying to keep the slight jealousy, or was it worry and protectiveness? She didn't know, but she didn't want him to hear it in her voice. "What about Melinda?"
Harry frowned. "Probably should at least show her around, introduce her to a few people. Be polite." He gave her a small smile. "I suppose that's the right thing to do."
Hermione inhaled slowly. "Look, Harry… I don't feel comfortable with her interacting with Rosella yet. For all I know, she could be a… fan girl or something."
"She had no clue who I was," Harry told her.
Hermione crossed her arms, "Really? How did you meet her?"
"My instructor introduced us," he said.
"Oh, she's a doctor too?" Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. "No, a yoga instructor."
Hermione blinked, trying not to imagine what a yoga instructor could do with the flexibility she would never have. "Makes sense. Where is she from?"
Harry froze, then opened his mouth and closed it again. "Um…"
Hermione's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, Harry! You're engaged to the woman, and you don't even know where she's from?!"
He stood. "The United States!"
"And which state?" she pressed.
Harry threw his arms in the air. "I don't know, okay! It never came up."
Hermione scoffed, slipping her feet into her shoes. "Never came up, did it, between jumping in the sack and proposing, I suppose."
"I never slept with her."
Hermione stopped mid-stride toward her blazer. "What?"
He stepped closer to her. "You are still the only woman I've been with."
Hermione cleared her throat. "So, you mean… men?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"Hermione!"
She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Nothing wrong with it, I'm just saying." She stared at him. "I didn't expect that." She laughed. "Still could be a fangirl. You do attract those."
Harry crossed his arms. "Who?"
Hermione pulled her hair out of her blazer. "Ginny, Cho," she said, half-teasing as she walked over to the fireplace. "I'm just saying."
Harry grinned. "Well, you weren't a fangirl," he said softly.
Hermione paused, hand in the floo jar, half smiling as she looked over her shoulder. "Harry, I read every book that existed about you before I started Hogwarts, then I met the real you. Please remember to lock up my house when you leave."
She gave him one last look before flooing away.
Stumbling out of the floo into her office, she dusted the soot off her blazer. Tossing her purse onto the floor beside her desk, she collapsed into her chair, pressing her forehead against the cool wood of her desk. Blessed silence.
But it didn't last as her door slammed open. "OH MY MERLIN! Why didn't you tell me that Harry Potter was Rosella's father?!"
Hermione groaned and lifted her head. Misty stood there, wide-eyed, holding a cup like it was an offering to a God. "Hi, Misty."
"Here," Misty said, thrusting the cup into her hands. "Triple shot. After yesterday's headlines, I knew you'd need it."
"Bless you," Hermione muttered, sinking back into her chair as she took a sip. "Go on, ask your questions. I know you've got them."
Before Misty could speak, another head poked into the doorway.
"She's here?! You absolute cow! You said you'd tell us when she got here!" Vivian exclaimed.
"She's here?!" someone shouted from downstairs.
Within seconds, Hermione's small office was full of women, all chattering at once.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Where's Mike?"
"He doesn't even know who Harry Potter is. So irrelevant," Regina said, perching herself on Hermione's desk. "Now, spill! Suddenly, it makes sense. Of course, Rosella isn't Ron's. She's Harry's! She's even got his eyes!"
Hermione laughed. "Yes, and his attitude."
"Where has he been all this time?" Megan asked, sitting on the floor.
Hermione sighed. "Long, complicated story. But most recently? Healers Without Borders."
Lucy let out a low groan. "He's a healer?! Bloody hell, Hermione. I saw the Prophet's photos of him yesterday. The man got gorgeous."
Hermione only shrugged as she sipped her coffee. "Amazing what happens when you finally aren't starved half your life."
Regina and Megan exchanged matching frowns. "Wait, what?"
"Nevermind," Hermione said quickly, waving them off.
"So, are you two starting it back up?" Misty asked, "Theo always said you and Harry were ridiculously close."
Hermione's hand stilled on her keyboard, and she bit her lip as she started her computer. "He's engaged."
The room was dead silent.
"JESUS CHRIST! Are you kidding me?!" Regina blurted.
"Nope," Hermione stated as she looked at her screen, "As riveting as my love life, or lack thereof, apparently is, the shop opens in five minutes. Don't we have shelves to stock?"
One by one, her employees filed out, whispering as they went. All except Misty, who lingered at the door. "You okay?"
Hermione let out a long breath. "I will be."
/\/ <3 /\/ <3/\/
Harry stepped out of the green flames into the Leaky Cauldron after leaving Hermione's house, brushing the soot from his clothes. The familiar smell of the old inn wrapped around him like a memory.
"Bless my soul, is that really you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry glanced up to see Tom behind the bar and walked up to him. "Hello, Tom. Hope you're doing well."
"You've grown up, Mr. Potter," Tom said, squinting as if he couldn't believe it.
"Just done my best," Harry replied with a half-smile, already feeling the weight of eyes on him. The pub seemed to have gone quiet, whispers touching the edge of his hearing. "Hate to run, but I've got business to attend to."
"Pleasure to see you again," Tom said.
Harry gave him a nod and moved quickly to the back door to the brick wall. With a flick of his wand, the archway opened. Stepping onto the cobblestones, Harry felt off balance. So much had changed, yet so much remained the same. Colourful banners and new shopfronts dotted the alley, but the rhythm of the alley, the vendors calling, the clatter of displays, was exactly as it had been before the war.
The stares. They came instantly. Heads turned, conversations faltered. It was as if they had been waiting, watching for him to return. Harry pulled his shoulders down, keeping his head bowed, but it didn't stop the sensation of being that snake all those years ago behind glass, on display.
He walked swiftly past Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, no, Weasley Brothers now. The window was bright and chaotic, displaying their fireworks that spelled out LAUGH OR ELSE! For a moment, Harry thought he saw Ron in the window with George or Fred, and his chest tightened as he quickened his pace.
A little further down, his eye caught the sign swinging slightly in the wind. The Lily Pad. With a little character version of Rosella on the sign. Through the glass, he could see a glimpse of shelves that were already crowded with patrons. Hermione's vision turned into reality. Harry forced himself away.
The looming white marble of Gringotts still stood high at the end of the alley, timeless and steady. The bank stood exactly as it had been when he'd first approached it at eleven.
Two armoured guards flanked the door. They looked him over with sharp eyes, gave identical nods, before swinging the great bronze doors open. Inside the hall, it gleamed as always. Quills scratched, coins clinked, and goblins sat at their tall desks. Harry approached the highest desk in the center, where the head goblin was. Clearing his throat, he said, "Lord Potter, here to see my advisor."
The goblin's quill stilled. Slowly, he looked up, assessing Harry with a gaze. "Lord Potter," he said, "It's a pleasure to see you in our establishment finally. It has been too long."
Raising his clawed hand, he summoned another goblin with a sharp command in gobbledegook, who nodded and then hurried away. The head goblin gestured toward a side door with a sweep of his long fingers. "Your advisor will be notified of your arrival. Please, through those doors."
Harry inclined his head. "Thank you."
As he walked through the doors, they shut behind him. He felt the weight of the role they expected him to take on. Lord Potter, head of the Noble House of Potter, and of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Almost immediately after the doors closed, another set opened, and a goblin stepped through, "This way, Lord Potter."
Harry was led down a dark hall to an office marked Kraglin.
"Enter."
Harry stepped inside, and the heavy door shut behind him, making Harry straighten his shoulders. The officer was much grander than he expected, and at the center sat a goblin behind the desk.
"Lord Potter," the goblin said, "We meet at last."
Harry cleared his throat as he crossed the room. "My apologies," he said, extending his hand. "I've been traveling."
For a long moment, the goblin only stared. Then slowly he rose. "Griphook always spoke highly of you. I dared not believe him, but he was right." His hand was cool and firm as he shook Harry's hand. "Sit. We have much business to attend to."
Harry sat down as Kraglin climbed back into his chair. "You have already dealt with the necessary aspects of your grandparents' estate when you turned 19. The Potter holdings were of dire importance, but that was only the beginning. Between Potter assets and Black interests that fell to you after Sirius Black's passing, you command wealth and influence beyond most. And yet… You seem not interested." Kraglin stated.
Harry shrugged, "It's just money, and I'd give it all away if I could have them back."
His thin lips curled, "Lord Potter, it's no minimal amount. After you confirmed your lineage at one of our branches, it opened up the basic ledgers of the Potter holdings, and it also brought the realization that you, Lord Potter, are the last of the Peverell line."
Harry swallowed hard, the memories of the Hallows weighing him down. "Before any of that, I have a change of beneficiary."
Kraglin's quill twitched. "You are married?"
Harry shook his head. "No, I have a daughter."
Kraglin stilled. "You are sure of her parentage?"
"Positive," Harry stated as Kraglin flipped through his ledger.
"Name?"
"Rosella Granger," Harry stated.
Kraglin leaned back in his chair, his fingers tented in front of him, resting against his face.
"Granger, not Potter. Interesting. Very well. Documentation will need to be provided, of course, but the line of succession can be amended. With your acknowledgment, she inherits by right."
Harry nodded. "She is my heir, like previously, Hermione is the primary beneficiary until she comes of age."
Kraglin reached for a large book. "Upon confirmation, Rosella Granger will stand as the primary beneficiary of your estate. The wards on the Potter and Black holdings will recognize her blood. In due time, certain vaults will answer to her."
Harry exhaled. "Thank you."
His mouth twitched. "Do not thank me. Thank your bloodline. You sit upon what remains of three great houses, you were the last of the Potters and Peverell line by blood, through inheritance and blood adoption, one of the last of the Blacks, and it seems, more." Harry swallowed, staring at him. "Let us begin, Lord Potter. You have put this off for much too long, and you have more to secure than you may realize."
Harry swallowed hard, "That is what I am afraid of."
Kraglin opened the large, ancient-looking book, "First, the Potter holdings. Your family, though noble, was modest compared to others of pureblood stock. The Potters invested wisely in both the magical world, through patents and medicinal potions, and in the Muggle world through land ownership and stocks. Their foresight has grown into significant wealth. Several properties owned by Potter Holdings remain in wizarding Britain. Property in Godric's Hollow, the old manor outside of Bath near St. Catherine's Court that was modeled after it, and a house in Sussex, long unused, that your grandparents lived in. All protected by wards keyed to your line. The manor was passed down through your family, but your grandmother was a medi-witch who sought to turn it into a haven for children affected by the war. She died before she could start the project."
Harry swallowed, "An orphanage?"
"And a children's hospital," Kraglin stated, showing him the documents of his grandmother's plan.
"Her name was Euphemia?" Harry whispered.
"While your grandfather Fleamont leaned more toward the topical and alternative uses for potions, your grandmother tried to improve them for medicinal use," Kraglin stated as he reached for a second book, even older than the first. "Second is the Black inheritance. By right of magical blood adoption by your godfather and Sirius Black's will, you are the sole heir. This includes Grimmauld Place, various properties currently rented in France and Italy, and the vaults of various family members now deceased. Some… dangerous, we have contained what required containment."
Kraglin closed that book and stood to open the final book gently. "Most recently confirmed, the Peverell line. Long thought extinguished, it sat waiting for inheritance, and now you stand here." He glanced at Harry, "The Hallows, once thought a bedtime story, are true. From what we understand, you know of them." Harry only inhaled sharply in reply. "There are more lands in Godric's Hollow, but they were long absorbed into Ministry control, but by right are yours. Old magic sleeps beneath the ground in bloodline wards and ancient protections. They last stirred in 1997 with your return to the small town."
Harry shifted uneasily in his chair, "So you say I own... all of this?"
"You are the steward of it. The wealth, the titles, the magic are only tools, Lord Potter. They can strengthen your line and be purposeful, or they can wither unused." His black eyes fell on Harry's, "That choice is yours."
Harry stood up. "I didn't come back for power. I only wanted to reconnect and now make sure that my daughter is protected."
Kraglin leaned forward, "By claiming her as your heir, you have done more than that. You have restored three lines once thought lost. Potter. Black. Peverell. All converge through her. Do you understand the weight of that?"
Harry swallowed hard. "Not really, but yes, it's a big thing in Wizengamot, I know."
The goblin smiled, "Wizarding Politics are a small part. Let us begin the proper transfer. There are documents to sign, seals to confirm, and then we will visit the vaults that you can access today."
Harry exhaled as he sat down. "Let's get on with it."
After finishing paperwork, Kraglin rose, "Come. Best if you see the truth with your eyes."
Harry followed after him as the goblin led him through a back corridor, then down a winding staircase. Torches ignited as the heavy stone door opened for them, flickering against damp stone. The air around him dropped ten degrees as the stone door shut, and he followed Kraglin deeper into the rail system, which made Harry feel uneasy. Harry shivered as torches lit along the tracks as a cart pulled up, driven by a silent goblin driver.
"Get in," Kraglin instructed.
Harry hesitated a moment, and Kraglin cracked a rare toothy smile. "No sinister need to steal this time, Potter. You are safe."
"It wasn't sinister last time," Harry muttered as the cart rattled into motion, plunging him deep into Gringotts' inner depths.
Kraglin turned to him, "Most who were there that day did not survive. From those who did, we hear rumours of an evil artifact that you searched for within Madam Lestrange's vault. Evil upon all evil, a vessel of his soul. Is that true?"
Harry only nodded as the cart slowed before a large golden door, a crest proudly displayed upon it. At the center, his breath caught as the hallows were centered within it, as a phoenix took off from the hallows. On one side stood a stag, and on the other, a doe. Both were standing as if protecting the family. Kraglin motioned Harry forward, and upon placing his hand on the crest, it opened. Inside lay piles of Galleons, stacks of ledgers, and multiple chests marked with the Potter family crest. Shelves upon shelves lined one wall. As Harry walked past them, he saw family Bibles, records, journals of potions, and scrolls dating back centuries. "The Potter fortune grows steadily from wise investments in Muggle pharmaceuticals and magical healing potions. The returns alone could purchase half of Diagon Alley."
Harry blinked, taking everything in. "I never knew. I only had my vault."
"Because you were a child. It was your father's vault before you, and before he could inherit this vault, his parents died. He never took it over before he himself died. Now that you are Lord Potter, it is yours to use or to squander. It is now your choice." Kraglin stated as the weight settled on his chest. "To the Black vaults?"
Harry merely nodded, the door sealing behind them as he robotically climbed into the cart that sped off. The next vault loomed as they stopped in front of it. Black and foreboding, with the familiar Black crest glaring at him as if it knew he was not blood. As the door opened, Harry couldn't help but shiver. Inside was wealth, but beyond the gold, slightly smaller than the Potter vault, were cabinets upon cabinets of jewels. Crates bound by chains, and in the corner, he could almost sense that the artifacts displayed were filled with dark magic. "We need to check this vault. I can feel the dark magic from it."
Kraglin nodded. "The Black line trafficked things that were best forgotten. Grimoires, cursed blades, heirlooms. These are the artifacts that were not destroyed, but despite this, do not take lightly what is housed in here."
In his travels, Harry had learned that, given his history, he could feel the pull of dark magic in his core. Keeping his distance as his stomach twisted, he turned away as Kraglin opened a ledger. "There are properties I did not realize were tied to his vault: Paris, Milan, and a coastal villa. Most are unclaimed and waiting for your claim as the rightful heir. Absorbed through a deceased member of the house of Black without children."
Harry swallowed. "Let's go to the last one."
Finally, the cart came to a rest deep within the caverns of the bank, in front of a door older than the rest. Its surface was carved from the rock itself with runes that glowed as Harry approached. No crest, only a single triangular mark that haunted Harry's dreams.
The Hallows. It was the Peverell vault, unaccessed for so long.
Kraglin pulled a penknife from his pocket. "This vault requires blood to unseal it. Touch your hand to the symbol."
Harry hesitated as he nicked his palm, then pressed it to the stone. He felt warmth spread through him as the door accepted him, and the stone slid backwards with an echoing growl.
The chamber lit as he stepped inside, and unlike the last, it was not overflowing with gold. Instead, it was filled with relics of ages long ago. Ancient texts rested upon carved shelves. The information on their pages is probably filled with lore lost to time.
Kraglin himself looked around in awe, "I nearly thought it wouldn't open. It has long been thought that the Peverells did not leave behind coin, but secrets. Magic older than even Hogwarts. Magic goblins do not understand."
Harry ran his hand over a portrait, trying to uncover the thick layer of dust. A long-deceased ancestor gazed at him through the dust, slowly awakening.
Turning to the center of the room, a single pedestal rose from the ground, holding a crystal artifact that shimmered in the torchlight. Kraglin stared at it in awe, "Unbelievable. That appears to be a relic lost long ago, believed to be owned by Merlin himself. Not a weapon, not a means of wealth, but a repository of insight and information. Waiting for the one true person worthy to unlock its secrets."
Harry walked forward, hand trembling as he reached out to touch it. A warmth spread through his fingers as the crystal hummed, acknowledging him as he tried to pick it up. But he was unable. It was as if the small crystal weighed a ton for such a small item.
"You see now why it matters who your heir is," Kraglin stated, clearing his throat, "The Peverell inheritance has always been a mystery. Now we know it's not the coin or the gold, but the knowledge they held. All this will be Rosella's one day. Potter gold, Black influence, and Peverell magic. All to prepare her to lead, to think, to learn what others have forgotten."
Harry felt the weight of it. "I need to know everything. Whoever you have to pay, please do it. Categorize it, rid of it what you must. If she is going to inherit this… I need to understand it all."
"Good, then we shall begin with the ledgers of the Potter holdings, then the Black, but know that this vault is not to be rushed," Kraglin said, meeting Harry's eyes. "Knowledge isn't a race, Lord Potter. It is a gift, and you must be careful how it is shared."
Preview of Chapter 32- In the End
Harry dragged his hands through his hair, and Hermione noticed for the first time how tangled the ends were, like he'd been worrying the strands between his fingers. "I'm rich."
Hermione looked at him, confused. "We knew that."
Harry shook his head, eyes wide. "No, I just left Gringotts."
Hermione stared at him. "Like how rich? Malfoy rich?"
Harry stared at her blankly. "Like I own the Malfoys rich."
Hermione gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "No!"
"Yes," Harry said, starting to pace the office, his hands pulling at his hair again. "I can't have this much money, Hermione! My first purchase with my own money was the whole snack cart on the Hogwarts Express! Do you understand what I'm saying? I cannot be trusted with this!"
Hermione took a breath. "Okay. Okay, it's all right. Just breathe. We can figure this out."
"I can't have money, Hermione!" Harry said, nearly hysterical.
Hermione moved over to him, taking his face in her hands. "Harry, breathe. Just look at me." She said as she made eye contact with him. "Who have you told?"
Harry blinked at her. "Only you. Why?"