Professor McGonagall seemed to think that the excursion was a splendid idea. And so, the four of them found themselves standing on the stairs of Gringotts before the clock struck noon.
That was already more effort than anyone had ever made for Harry.
But he didn’t let himself feel hope just yet. What if the goblins said that there was nothing in the will about him not being allowed to go to Petunia? What if the will said he was to go to his aunt? What if they weren’t allowed to see the will at all?
The guards at the door certainly didn’t look very enthusiastic to see them enter.
“Hello,” he said timidly, but they only glared at him harder.
“Goblins don’t really like us wizards,” Professor Snape whispered to him when they passed the guards. “And with good reasons. Do not feel discouraged: they are very professional.”
Harry managed to feel a little bit better.
The inside of the bank was just as overwhelming as the last time he was there, people and goblins bustling on the separate sides of a long counter.
Finding the shortest-looking queue, the four of them prepared themselves for a long wait, even despite the goblins' exceptionally effective services.
Harry waited patiently, used to not expressing any signs of his anxiety. It would’ve gotten him in even bigger trouble if he ever showed impatience during some of his aunt’s and uncle’s rants.
Finally they reached the counter, which somehow still managed to catch Harry by surprise.
“We are here to inquire about the last wills of James Potter and Lily Potter, née Evans,” Professor Flitwick said. He had unanimously been chosen to speak, as his parentage would place him above the humans in goblin hierarchy, just in case the goblins weren’t feeling like being nice that day.
It turned out that that precaution was completely unnecessary.
“Finally!” the goblin - Robok, Harry managed to read his badge - said, throwing his hands up.
Waving his hand, he made a part of the counter rise up. “Follow me!”
Harry was very confused. He was pretty sure that that wasn’t exactly the standard procedure.
They were led to an office that looked pretty much like any Hogwarts teacher’s office, if said teacher was particularly fascinated by axes.
Robok gestured at the chairs.
“As is the common procedure, you will have to take a blood test to confirm that you are who you’re claiming to be,” the goblin said, handing each of them a piece of stone. “The kind of information we are about to share with you is beyond sensitive.”
The professors all used some kind of spell to prick their fingers and press the bleeding tips to the stone surfaces. Harry didn’t know that spell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t really allowed to use magic anyway.
But fortunately for him, he had a scab on his hand from when he’d fallen over that morning. Picking at it, he then pressed the freshly bleeding wound to the stone.
The goblin said nothing, not counting the raise of his brows, when collecting the stones and went towards a set of drawers covering the entire wall behind his desk.
He murmured something that sounded like a confused “Interesting…” when checking the stones, but it seemed to be mere curiosity rather than any sort of obstacle.
Clearly the goblin was particularly well organized: in just a few short moments he turned around to face them once again, setting the thickest stack of parchment Harry had ever seen on the desk.
“What is this?” Professor Snape asked, his eyebrows so high that they were completely invisible, despite his hairstyle usually allowing for a wide range in their movement. “I am fairly certain that the Potters did not have enough time to write this monstrosity as their wills.”
“You are correct,” Robok said. “This is the log of every irregularity in performance of standard duties related to the vault.”
“I’m hoping that they are all since the establishing of their family vault?” Professor McGonagall said, her voice sounding as if she already knew that that was not the case.
“Yes,” Robok said, turning the book upside down and taking the bottom sheet of paper. “Those are all the irregularities since the seventeenth century. These,” he gestured to the remaining mammoth, “are the irregularities since the thirty-first of October, 1981.”
Professor McGonagall swore something that was so atrocious that Harry didn’t even know what it meant while the other professors looked murderous.
“What happened that day?” he asked, even though he had a suspicion.
“Your parents’ deaths,” the goblin answered, looking at him suspiciously. “I suppose the bank records aren’t the only ones we’d find irregularities in during that time period, are they?”
“No,” Professor Snape said. “There are much more.”
“We suspected as much,” the goblin sighed. “But wizards tend to get terribly outraged whenever we talk about anything other than banking, so we couldn’t really do anything.”
“Do we need to review the entire thing?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“Goodness, no!” Robok looked honestly terrified at the prospect. “It can wait. We don’t have that kind of time right now. The wills might take a while by themselves.”
“Where do you store people’s wills?” Harry asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
“Usually we have the original in the family vault and then the copies: one is sent to the ministry and another is stored in our specialized vault to prevent any chances of forgery. The copy in the ministry is read with family and closest friends or representatives present. I believe those two wills were read in the presence of,” the goblin checked some different piece of parchment, “‘A. P. W. B. Dumbledore, only.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Professor Snape sighed.
“So we can’t see it?” Harry asked. “Or will we have to go to the ministry? Do they keep the wills after reading them?”
“They don’t,” Professor Flitwick said with a scowl. “They say it would take up ‘too much space,’ like we’re not capable of expanding it! As if they don’t store every prophecy ever made!”
“Oh…”
“You may retrieve the copy from your family vault,” Robok said. “We don’t usually allow children access before they reach the age of maturity, but this is, I believe, one of the cases in which we can make an exception.”
Robok stood up, motioning at them to follow him once again. This time Harry could see where they were going; he recognized that part of the bank from the last time they were there.
The carts.
Harry hoped that they would be just as fun as when he'd ridden them before.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick took the first one as the carts for deeper-situated vaults were way smaller than the ones for transporting clients to newer ones.
Something about older tunnels and safety precautions, apparently.
Harry startled when Professor Snape offered him a vial of a potion, downing a similar one himself.
“What’s that?” Harry asked, earning a half-smile.
“Anti-nausea potion. This is going to be a long and bumpy ride.”
And he was right. The ride took way more time than the last one, in Harry’s estimate. Having no watch, he couldn’t have been sure, but it definitely felt much longer.
The station they ended up on was lit only by flickering torches for some reason. The shadows danced across the stone walls, crisscrossing randomly. Harry saw figures in the dark out of the corner of his eye, but every time he turned his head, they disappeared.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were waiting for them on the platform. Once together, Robok led them through a tunnel so small that Professor McGonagall was forced to bend almost in half, and Professor Snape had to adapt some uncomfortable looking semi-crouch.
The only ones unaffected were the goblin, half-goblin, and Harry.
Harry, who soon became affected by something entirely different.
“Is that a dragon?! How did it get in here?!”
The creature visible from the opening of the tunnel was, indeed, a dragon. A majestic creature with scales so bright it seemed they shone in the darkness of the cave. Harry could see its paws, tail, and parts of its torso, all of them encompassed in golden chains.
The dragon appeared to be sleeping with its tail towards the group, and Harry hoped it would remain sleeping for the entirety of their trip.
“Yeah,” Robok said. It took Harry a moment to remember that he’d asked a question. “We bought her off the black market; she was blinded by the training her previous owner provided and advertised for potion ingredients.”
“Oh.” Harry didn’t know much about dragons, but… “Wouldn’t she feel better outside?”
“We tried to get some preservationists to take her, but all of them denied.” Robok led them down the path by the wall, passing giant golden doors regularly. “The Romanians said that they would take her once they had enough resources, but they’ve been sending us reports on the state of their place for the past twenty years, and we’re not convinced that they’re ready to take her in as of yet.”
That sounded… way nicer than the first thoughts Harry had had about the situation.
“Why is she bound, though?”
“It’s moreso jewelry rather than chains.”
“Jewelry?”
“She’s blind and the weight of the gold proves to be very comforting to her.” The goblin stopped in front of a door, although Harry couldn’t see any difference between it and the others they’d passed. “Here we are. Press your hand to the panel on the right and the door will open.”
Harry did so, still managing to flinch in surprise when the door whooshed open. He soon forgot all about it when he noticed the contents of the room.
There wasn’t any gold inside, but there was no doubt that it was all incredibly valuable, be it worth its weight in Galleons or simply holding sentimental value.
Entering the vault, Harry had no idea where to go first: everything simply looked way too enticing.
He ventured towards a stack holding hundreds of wands, spotting a portable wall with a plaque reading “Paintings” on it.
Would those be magical portraits? Would he be able to talk to his ancestors?
The first couple of pictures he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. Forgetting all about the teachers and the wills, he inched forward, barely even blinking.
On the left hung a portrait of a man who looked just like Harry: identical dark skin, the same messed up hair, and even the glasses that they wore were strikingly similar.
The plaque on the frame said what Harry already knew: “James Fleamont Potter” with the dates of his birth and death underneath.
On the right sat a woman whom Harry had never seen in his life, but he could guess who she was.
His mother. Her red hair fell around her face, her mouth curved into a soft smile even as she was sleeping.
Harry would give anything to be able to talk to them.
Coming even closer, he outstretched his hand-
“You can’t,” Professor Flitwick said, grabbing his arm. “Waking up a portrait releases incredible amounts of energy. If you did so in here, it would destroy everything else in the vault.”
Nodding numbly, Harry dropped his arm.
“Why haven’t they been woken up yet?” he asked.
“There is no one who could do it. Other than you, there is no one else currently alive who can access this vault.”
“We found the wills!” Professor McGonagall called out, waving at them to join the rest.
Harry left the portraits reluctantly. The adults were gathered around a tiny table on which sat two globes. They could’ve been mistaken for marbles if not for the swirling blue lights inside them.
But there was no parchment.
“Where are they?” Harry asked.
Professor Snape pointed at the marbles. “In the wizarding world, people store their wills in the form of a memory rather than writing it down.”
“Oh.” Harry didn’t really understand what that meant.
“Let’s get on with it,” Professor Flitwick said, taking out a piece of parchment and a quill capable of standing on its own. “The sooner we get this done, the better.”
Robok took one of the globes and put it in a tiny bowl placed on the floor.
A ghost emerged from inside of it, a bluish glow surrounding a person whom Harry would grow up to resemble.
“James Fleamont Potter, born the twenty-seventh of March, 1960. This is my last will and testament,” the figure spoke.
After that he started listing off a number of names Harry didn’t recognize, assigning them different amounts of money, personal belongings, or possessions.
The quill dutifully noted everything, so Harry figured he didn’t have to try and remember it.
After several minutes of that, the figure took a deep breath.
“As for my son, Hari James Potter,” he said, sighing and rubbing his eyes, misplacing his glasses slightly. “If I die before he reaches the age of maturity, all parental rights are to be given to my partner, Lily J. Potter, née Evans. If it so happens that she also dies, I would wish for him to be placed with his godfather, Sirius Orion Black, and his partner, Remus John Lupin. If they, for any reason, can’t take him, I would wish for him to be placed with Frank Carl Longbottom and his partner Alice Heather Bell. So mote it be.”
Silence fell over the vault.
Harry wondered who all of those people were. Why could none of them take him in?
“So those were his choices,” Professor Snape said eventually. “A convicted murderer, a Dark creature, and a couple currently acting like toddlers who live permanently in St. Mungo’s, even though he was aware at the time that they were also being targeted. Splendid.”
“Severus!” Professor McGonagall admonished. “He couldn’t have known…”
The only thing that Harry was sure of at the moment was that his father’s will didn’t provide him with any alternative to the Dursleys.
There was still his mother’s though.
Robok took the marble out of the bowl, and placed the other one inside it.
A ghastly copy of Harry’s mother emerged.
“Lily Soliel Potter, née Evans, born on the thirtieth of January, 1960,” she began with a soft smile, identical to the one she was sporting in the picture. “This is my last will and testament.”
“I leave most of my possessions to my partner, James Fleamont Potter. If he was to die, divide them as per his will. The only exception would be the trunk stored somewhere in the family vault containing all of my potions journals. It has a plaque with the name of Severus Tobias Snape, to whom I’d like to leave it.”
Harry glanced at Professor Snape who looked extremely surprised, going as far as to drop his arms from his trademark “folded with their thumbs up” position.
“Sev, my old friend, I know you’ll think this is a bribe. It is. For what? You’ll know soon enough.”
The woman - Harry’s mother, he still couldn’t believe he could see her speaking to him - brushed a wild strand of hair out of her face.
“As for my son, Hari James Potter - Harry, my darling.” Harry could almost feel the love in her voice. “If I happen to die before he reaches the age of maturity and my partner James Fleamont Potter is unavailable, under no circumstances is he to be placed with my sister and her husband, Petunia and Vernon Dursley!”
The scream took Harry by surprise.
“My sister is unfit to raise my son for a multitude of reasons that I will not list here. I would wish for him to be placed with his godfather, Sirius Orion Black, and his partner, Remus John Lupin. If they are unavailable, I would wish for him to be placed with Frank Carl Longbottom and Alice Heather Bell.”
So, the exact same people that his father had listed. But at least she objected to his placement at Aunt Petunia’s house…
“However,” Lily continued after a deep sigh. “As there is a war going on, I recognize the dangers placed upon the people I nominated. And as Voldemort seems very determined to kill my son, I understand that additional protections are to be provided.”
Or perhaps there was still a chance?
“This is why if I die protecting him, let it be known that I will be invoking an ancient blood ritual that would offer him protection for as long as he lives with someone who shares our blood.”
That meant Aunt Petunia. As far as Harry knew, there was no one else from their family, be it Muggle or magical. Didn’t the goblin say so?
“That’s why for my last nomination, I choose Severus Tobias Snape for the periods of time that Harry doesn’t spend at school, for which he will receive compensation. No offense, Sev, but I don’t really fancy my son living on Spinner’s End - surely you understand. As for the period he spends at school, I’d like to nominate his Head of House as the secondary guardian. So mote it be.”
Well. Harry did not expect that. But it didn’t sound bad, so-
“Ah, one more thing!” the ghost of Lily said, flickering softly. “If we have died while under Fidelius, be it known that our Secret Keeper was Peter Jadeus Pettigrew. Sirius Orion Black served as a decoy and was in no way capable of betraying us. Oh! Also, Peter is an unregistered rat Animagus. Don’t believe he’s dead unless you have the majority of his body.”
And with that, she retreated back to the marble.
The silence somehow felt really loaded.
“Are you telling me,” Professor McGonagall said in a dangerously low voice, “that Sirius Black spent a decade in Azkaban for nothing?!”
“Let us not forget that the Headmaster knew that he was innocent,” Professor Snape added. “And yet, having all the power needed to free him, he did nothing?”
“Whoa, that’s something I would have never expected you of all people to say!” Professor Flitwick added. “With all that animosity between you and Black…”
“Do not mistake my words, I detest him. But no one deserves to spend this long in Azkaban, especially not for something they had not even done.”
“Alright, so we’ve got Sirius’s business to sort out,” Professor McGonagall said, visibly gathering herself together. “But why did Lily say that you’re a blood relative of herself and Harry?”
Professor Snape frowned. “I am not sure…”
“I can confirm that this is true,” Robok piped in. “The blood tests I had you all do? They said you had an Oath of Blood with Lily Evans and therefore you are, in the eyes of magic, a blood relative of Harry Potter.”
“Oh,” Professor Snape said.
“But when did you take an Oath of Blood?” Professor McGonagall wondered.
“At the beginning of our fifth year,” Professor Snape supplied. “Not long before our… falling out. I was not... aware that it was binding.”
“Well, it definitely was.” Professor Flitwick rolled up his parchment and hid it, along with the quill, in one of his pockets. “So now both you and Minerva have some sort of a shared custody over Harry. This is going to be interesting.”
“My mum said my ‘Head of House,’” Harry said. “But what if I had been sorted into Slytherin? The hat considered it.”
“At the time that the will was made, I was not yet a Head of House,” Professor Snape said. “In fact, I was not even considering becoming a teacher. As far as she knew, that scenario was about as realistic as the Headmaster wearing some normal robes for once.”
“What should we start with?” Professor McGonagall wondered. “There’s so much new information…”
“If I may,” Robok said. “Lily Potter expressed belief that Peter Pettigrew might still be alive.”
“Yes, but how are we supposed to find him?” Professor Snape said. “As a rat Animagus, he might be hiding literally anywhere!”
Professor Flitwick and Robok exchanged a glance.
“We have a way to locate him,” Robok said eventually. “It is rarely used, if ever, but I believe that this situation is dire enough…”
“Well, what are we waiting for, then?” Professor McGonagall turned around, storming towards the exit. “We’ve got a rat to hunt!”