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Chapter Text

Harry Potter stepped out of the mine cart as soon as it returned to the top floor of Gringotts, his hand clenching the bag full of gold coins, his mind swirling with images from the vault, his vault! The giant man, Hagrid, was still sitting in the cart, looking slightly green, and Harry felt bad for him. He moved slightly away from the cart, just in case, as the goblin, Griphook, leaned closer to Harry.

“Heir Potter, you need to return, as there are discrepancies in your vaults.” Griphook muttered to him in a low voice and pushed a paper into Harry’s hand. “Use this to come back anytime.”

“Come, Harry, we have shopping to do.” Hagrid had climbed out of the cart and used a hand on Harry’s shoulder to guide him away from the goblin.

Surreptitiously, Harry slid the piece of thick paper into his pocket and followed Hagrid down the white marble steps. The trip through the shops was a whirlwind, with Hagrid gone as often as he was there, and Harry was able to buy a few extras; including some regular clothes at Madam Maulkins and additional books. He was also able to get a trunk which would shrink or unshrink at the tap of his finger and was locked to everyone else, requiring his magical signature. Making it at least safe from his relatives.

Harry didn’t take a look at the piece of paper – parchment – Griphook had given him until he was back at the Dursleys, having had to find a bus on his own as Hagrid had left him at the Leaky Cauldron. His relatives hadn’t been pleased to see him back, especially with an owl in tow, and locked him into Dudley’s second bedroom. This is after Dudley had taken a few shots at him, cheered on by his uncle, for the gift Hagrid had given him. He was very glad he’d bought some food at a small shop near Diagon Alley before the bus left, as he was sure it would be several long days before anything was pushed through the cat flap.

As the evening lengthened and the house went quiet, Harry carefully retrieved the note Griphook had given him. Diving under his thin blanket, Harry pulled out the torch he’d repaired after Dudley had thrown it into a wall during a tantrum.

Heir Potter,

It is of the utmost importance you return to Gringotts at your earliest opportunity as there are discrepancies with your vaults. We have sent multiple posts to you; however, we believe they have not reached you.

Harry frowned at this. Why wouldn’t his mail get to him?

If you need transportation, use this missive. Make sure the letter is in your hand and you are touching anything you want to bring with you. Simply say ‘Gringotts now’ and the paper will turn into a Portkey, a form of magical transportation.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

Ironjaw
Potter Account Manager

Harry finally got his chance to go the last week of August, when his aunt and uncle took Dudley to a specialist in London to consult on the removal of his pigtail. They left early in the morning, letting Harry out for a trip to the bathroom and his first five-minute shower in two weeks. His uncle locked him back inside the small, stuffy room, turning a deaf ear to his pleas for at least some water.

Waiting for twenty minutes after the Dursleys had pulled out of the driveway, Harry pulled his shrunken trunk out from under the loose floorboard and unshrunk it. He dug out his wand and one of the extra books he’d gotten in Flourish & Blotts, before selecting a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved blue button-up shirt. Quickly changing, Harry gathering everything in Dudley’s second bedroom that he wanted to keep and packed it into his trunk, including Hedwig’s cage. His owl watched him with her large amber eyes.

“Go, Hedwig and find me later – probably somewhere in London, because I’m not coming back here!”

Hedwig blinked at him once, before taking flight from the windowsill and Harry closed the window after her. He looked around the room one last time, making sure all of Dudley’s overlarge, ratty clothing was shoved into the closet, the floorboard was in place, and the bed was neatly made. Closing the lid of his trunk, Harry tapped the strange symbol the salesman had shown him and grinned as it shrunk small enough to put in the worn messenger bag Harry had used for his school things in primary.

Sliding his wand into the special pocket in his black trousers, Harry put his bag over his head so the strap was across his body, and picked up the slip of paper Griphook had given him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry whispered: “Gringotts now!”

The feeling not unlike a hook yanking him at the back of his navel, Harry felt himself start to spin rapidly, the world dissolving into a pinwheel of colours swirling around him like a whirlpool. He closed his eyes tightly and prayed his glasses stayed on his face, as they were only held together with sellotape.

The twirling seemed to go on for a long time and ended abruptly, with Harry falling to the ground when it released him. Harry managed to struggle to his knees, as his stomach tried to decide whether to dispelled the little it had inside or not. Taking a few deep breathes, Harry was able to keep everything down and slowly open his eyes, before shuffling to his feet. Thankfully he was alone in a small dimly lit room, the walls were hewed dark brown stone and the floor gleaming white tiles. There was an overlarge fireplace on one wall and several chairs along another, with a tall door on the opposite wall.

Harry straightened out his clothing and checked to make sure his wand was undamaged, before he walked towards the door. It opened just as he reached for the handle and Harry jumped back, startled, as a goblin stepped into the room.

“Welcome to Gringotts Bank, Heir Potter.” The goblin gave him a half-bow and Harry returned it.

“Good morning, Mr. Goblin. May I ask your name?” Harry remembered the proper greetings from the book for Muggleborn magicals he’d read.

The goblin tilted his head and seemed to study Harry for a moment. “I am Senior Account Manager Ironjaw, Heir Potter, and if you’ll follow me, I believe we have much to go over.”

Harry followed the goblin, secretly admiring the blood-red three-piece suit Ironjaw wore. The corridor they were in had some type of lighting around the top of the wall, with metal weapons mounted on the walls, most of them long swords and knives. Thinking back to his reading, Harry remembered the goblins were a fierce warrior clan and their hand wrought weapons were highly prized.

Ironjaw stopped in front of one of the many doors in the hallway and pushed it open. “After you, Heir Potter.”

Walking inside, Harry saw that they were in an office, with a large dark wood desk and a couple of leather chairs in front of it. Harry chose to sit in the one furthest from the door, wanting to make sure he had time to react to whatever or whoever might come through it. It was a lesson he’d learned at a young age when Dudley had invented “Harry Hunting”, and being as far away from the door usually gave him a chance at a head start. Harry watched at Ironjaw moved around the desk and sat down, tapping a long fingernail on the top ot the desk, jumping as a large file appeared.

“Do you have your key, Heir Potter?” Ironjaw reached behind him and lifted a tray made of what looked like pounded gold onto the desk top.

“No, sir, Hagrid took it back.”

Ironjaw nodded. “I suspected he would. It just gives us the opportunity to do a blood ritual to determine your true identity.”

Harry frowned, visions of himself lying prone on a sacrificial alter in the light of a full moon.

“It requires a mere seven drops of blood, Heir Potter, typically from the ring finger of your left hand.”

Ironjaw gave him what Harry imagined was a smile, except it display a large number of very sharp teeth. Sheepishly, Harry leaned forward, extending his left hand across the desk, which Ironjaw took with cool, firm fingers. He could see a small bronze bowl sitting in the middle of the golden tray, it was this bowl Ironjaw held his finger over as he used a jeweled dagger to make a painless cut. They both counted out the drops, Harry under his breath, as they fell and when Harry was given his hand back, the cut was already healed.

“Mr. Ironjaw, what will this do?” Harry asked as he watched the goblin sprinkle a pinch of white powder into the bowl, before adding a small vial of iridescent liquid, seemingly stirring itself within the bowl.

“This, young heir, will confirm your identity, list your parents, grandparents, godparents, and other ancestors, as well as any titles and inheritance you have,” Ironjaw informed him.

“If I have any other relatives, would I be able to go live with them?” Harry asked quietly.

Ironjaw continued working, swirling the bowl three times before snapping his fingers. A glittering piece of parchment appeared in the gold tray and Ironjaw poured the liquid in the bowl into the center. The bowl vanished from his hands and Ironjaw tapped the side of the tray another three times with a fingernail, before he gave Harry a serious look.

“Yes, Heir Potter, it will. I have been the account manager for the House of Potter for the past one hundred and eighty-two years. I greatly enjoyed dealing with your grandfather, great grandfather, and his father, who were true partners in maintaining and growing the Potter family wealth. Your father never had a chance to live to his potential and, almost ten years ago, my duties were reduced to merely overseeing your vaults. The loss of potential revenue over this period of time is staggering. I am done sitting by and watching, as I feel you are as keen as your forefathers to bring wealth to your family.” Ironjaw leaned forward. “To do that, requires you be absolutely honest with myself and whomever I bring in to assist us. Can you do this?”

Harry met Ironjaw’s eyes, his mind spinning and his heart pounding. He had wished so hard, for years for someone who would help him get away from the life the Dursleys subjected him to. The hope he tried to push back threatened to overwhelm him.

“I’ll do anything I can to not have to go back to that house, Mr. Ironjaw,” Harry said earnestly. “And please, call me Harry.”

“Good, then the first thing I need you to do is have a physical exam,” Ironjaw announced, looking at him. “The test will take about an hour to complete, so we would be better served using that time to document your current condition, as well as repairing what is needed.”

Swallowing hard, Harry nodded and stood up when the goblin healer came to get him. He knew his relatives hadn’t given him enough to eat, he was the smallest kid in his class at primary and his body ached in the cold. Dudley had done his best to hit Harry at every opportunity and his aunt liked to swing her frying pan at him, which Harry was mostly able to duck. It was his uncle, who had taken a belt to him any time he did something freaky, which had hurt the most.

The room the healer took him to seemed warmer than the other areas and Harry stripped to his pants, as directed. He tried to hide his blush as another goblin came in and took pictures of him, front and back, with an old-fashioned camera, before the healer had him lie down on a padded bench. The healer started chanting under her breath and Harry lost himself in his thoughts. The prospect of a home where he was actually wanted was his dream. Whoever took him in wouldn’t have to do much, he was pretty self-sufficient, Harry just wanted someone who didn’t hate him.

Harry must have dozed off during the exam, as he was awoken gently by the healer, given three progressively worse tasting medicines to drink, and then escorted back to Ironjaw’s office. The tray was gone and the parchment was laying on the desk. Harry hurriedly sat down and turned his attention to his account manager, who was writing something in his file.

Ironjaw looked up, a look on his face which Harry couldn’t decipher. “Before we go over what your test has revealed, young Harry, I would like to ask you about the missing post I have sent over the last few years.”

Catching to angry undertone, Harry sat up straighter. “I have never gotten any mail from anyone, Mr. Ironjaw, with the exception of my Hogwarts letter, which was address to me by name at the cupboard under the stair where I slept.”

Piercing him with a serious look, Ironjaw nodded. “You have been made aware that you are credited with vanquishing the Dark Lord Tom Riddle?”

“Is that his real name?” Harry asked, surprised.

At Ironjaw’s nod, Harry answered as truthfully as he could. “Hagrid told me I did something, but I think it must have been something my mum did.” Harry screwed up his face. “He said I was famous in the Wizarding world for it.”

“Hagrid was correct,” the goblin replied. “You have been hailed the Savior and yet, you’ve never received any post. This means your mail has gone somewhere, with all the cards and gifts you should have received over the years.”

“Can we add it to the list of things for the solicitor?” Harry asked. “Along with those books I saw at Flourish & Blotts which appear to have been written about me?”

“I believe that would be a wise idea.” Ironjaw slid the paper – parchment over to Harry.

- Heritage Test – Certified by Ironjaw, Senior Account Manager, House of Potter –

Harrison (Harry) James Potter
Born: 31 July 2000
Carrier: James Fleamont Potter (deceased)
Sire: Anthony Edward Stark (Squib)
Blood-Adopted Mother: Lily Rose Evans Potter(deceased)
Godfather by Blood Ritual: Sirius Orion Black, Heir Presumptive (Pureblood)
Godmother: Alice Longbottom, Lady Longbottom (unavailable) (Halfblood)

The parchment slipped out of Harry’s nerveless fingers and he lunged to grab it. With a shaky hand, he slid it up onto the desk, and allowed his fingers to trace over the top few lines. Not only did he not even know his real name, but he had two fathers! He looked up at Ironjaw.

“Could you please tell me what this means?” Harry whispered.

Ironjaw took the parchment and looked it over. “It seems as if James Potter was impregnated by another man, this Anthony Stark, and your mother then blood adopted you, essentially giving you three parents. It also states Sirius Black did a ritual to make him your godfather,” Ironjaw paused and Harry swore his eyes widened. “If it is the old magic ritual his family is famous for, he could not have betrayed you or your parents to Voldemort.”

So, Harry thought, two potential guardians for him. “That sounds good! Anything else?”

Ironjaw looked further down the paper and Harry watched as his eyes narrowed. “It seems there has been a conspicuous plot to keep you at your Muggle relatives house, as you are not even related to them and the blood connection with your mother wouldn’t be strong enough to power the blood wards Dumbledore insists are there. There is also the suspicious nature of everyone who could have taken you in either being dead, incapacitated, or illegally imprisoned.”

Looking up, Ironjaw scowled. “And I am fairly certain you have not authorized any withdrawals from your main family vaults, Potter or Peverell, nor your trust vault.”

“No, I didn’t even know I had vaults.”

Nodding, Ironjaw made a notation on the parchment. “You have inherited a number of different properties and quite a tidy fortune, Harry. There are several actions we can take now, including a full audit of all the vaults you are heir to, have you accept your heir rings which would afford you some protections from spells and potions, meet with a barrister, solicitor, and an American attorney. Oh, and a curse breaker.”

Harry’s stomach clenched and he took a deep breath. “So, I don’t have to go back?”

“No, Harry,” Ironjaw smiled with lot of teeth. “Removing you from your relatives is the easiest part of the situation. I’ll have a solicitor out to their residence tomorrow to transfer your custody to this Anthony Stark – as your biological father, they have no choice. In doing so, it will mean all the paperwork is ready when we find him.”

Harry again felt a swell of hope and smiled in return. “And you can start reinvesting money from my vaults?”

“Indeed, I can. I am also able remove your current magical guardian for failing to adequately protect you.”

Blinking, Harry frowned, “I have a magical guardian?”

Ironjaw didn’t appear surprised at his question. “I’ll add searching for your parents’ wills and add lessons on the Ancient and Noble Houses you are heir to.”