The summer sun beat down on Diagon Alley, turning the cobblestone street into a river of heat that rippled around the crowds of witches and wizards doing their back-to-school shopping. Chris adjusted his glamour bracelet, feeling the slight magical buzz against his skin as it maintained his appearance as just another ordinary twelve-year-old wizard. His Hogwarts letter had arrived yesterday with the expected list of second-year supplies, giving him the perfect excuse to visit the wizarding shopping district and test his newly created Heads-Up Display in a more complex magical environment.
"Revelio perspectum," he murmured softly, tapping the silver bracelet with his finger.
Immediately, his vision transformed. The translucent blue lines of the HUD overlay appeared, revealing not just the layout of the shops and alleyways but also the magical signatures of every witch, wizard, and magical creature within range. The density of magic in Diagon Alley made the display far busier than at the Manor, hundreds of coloured dots moved through the streets, each representing a magical being with their own unique signature.
Chris smiled with satisfaction as he navigated through the crowd, making his way toward Quality Quidditch Supplies. His original plan had been to visit Flourish and Blotts first, but a particularly large congregation of magical signatures outside the Quidditch shop caught his attention. The cluster of excited energy suggested something worth investigating.
As he approached, he saw the cause of the excitement: a sleek, gleaming Nimbus 2001 displayed prominently in the shop window. A small crowd had gathered, mostly young wizards pressing their noses against the glass, pointing and discussing the broom's specifications with reverent tones.
And there, among them, Chris spotted a familiar figure. A small, thin boy with messy black hair and round glasses stood slightly apart from the main group, his green eyes wide with wonder as he stared at the broomstick. The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was partially hidden beneath his fringe, but the HUD confirmed what Chris already knew, the magical signature glowing around the boy was unique, bright with potential yet slightly diminished from what it should have been, despite the removal of the Horcrux months ago.
Harry Potter.
Chris observed him for a moment. Without the soul fragment leeching his magic, Harry looked healthier than he had at the end of their first year, but still too thin, his clothes still clearly hand-me-downs several sizes too large. The boy's posture spoke of someone trying to avoid attention while simultaneously yearning for something just beyond reach, in this case, quite literally, as his fingers twitched slightly while looking at the expensive broomstick.
An opportunity had just presented itself, one too perfect to ignore. Chris made his decision instantly, adjusting his approach to appear casual as he moved to stand beside Harry.
"Incredible, isn't it?" Chris said conversationally, nodding toward the Nimbus 2001. "Makes our school brooms look like cleaning supplies."
Harry turned, startled at being addressed directly. His eyes widened slightly as he registered Chris's presence, a subtle sign of recognition crossing his face.
"Yeah, it's amazing," Harry agreed, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness. "They say it's even faster than the Nimbus 2000."
"I'm Chris Emrys," he offered, extending his hand with a friendly smile. "Hufflepuff, going into second year. You're Harry Potter, right? I saw you at the Gryffindor table last year."
Harry's hand met his, warm and slightly hesitant. "Nice to meet you properly," Harry said, relaxing slightly when Chris didn't immediately gawk at his scar or mention his fame. "Do you play Quidditch?"
"Just casually so far," Chris replied, turning back to examine the broom in the window. "Though I might try out for the team at some point. You were brilliant last season, youngest Seeker in a century, right?"
Pride and embarrassment battled briefly on Harry's face before he nodded. "It was mostly luck."
"Nonsense," Chris countered smoothly. "Natural talent, more like. Speaking of which, are you thinking about getting the new model?."
Harry's expression fell slightly. "I can't afford something like this," he said, gesturing toward the broom. "My aunt and uncle... they don't exactly support magic. The Nimbus 2000 Professor McGonagall got me stays at Hogwarts during summer."
Chris allowed his brow to furrow in apparent confusion. "But you're Harry Potter," he said carefully. "Heir to the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. You should have more than enough gold in your family vault for a dozen Nimbus 2001s."
The blank look that spread across Harry's face told Chris everything he needed to know, causing him to smile internally at what he was about to do.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, genuine confusion in his voice. "I have a vault with some gold for school supplies, but... Most Noble and Ancient House? Family vault?"
Chris stared at him for a moment, manufacturing an expression of surprise that wasn't entirely feigned. Even knowing what he did about Dumbledore's manipulations, the extent of Harry's ignorance about his own heritage was shocking.
"Harry," he said slowly, lowering his voice, "the Potters are one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain. Your father wasn't just some random wizard, he was Lord Potter, and you're his heir. You should have access to the family vault, not just a trust small vault for school expenses."
Harry's mouth opened slightly, his eyes darting around as though looking for someone who might contradict this information. "But... Hagrid never said... and the Weasleys didn't mention..."
"Has anyone ever actually explained your family history to you?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer.
Harry shook his head mutely, his expression a mixture of confusion and dawning anger.
Chris checked his watch, making a show of considering something. "Look, I was heading to Gringotts anyway. Why don't you come with me? The goblins can verify your identity and check what vaults you should have access to. At the very least, you deserve to know what's rightfully yours."
Hope flashed across Harry's face, quickly followed by suspicion, a healthy reaction, Chris thought approvingly. The boy had learned caution, at least.
"Why would you help me?" Harry asked. "You barely know me."
Chris shrugged, offering a warm smile. "Hufflepuff, remember? We believe in fairness. Besides, my family has some history with the goblins. I might be able to help navigate their... unique approach to customer service."
Harry hesitated for another moment before nodding decisively. "Alright then. Thank you."
As they turned away from the shop window, Chris felt a warm satisfaction spreading through his chest. Another piece falling perfectly into place. Dumbledore's careful management of Harry Potter was about to suffer another significant blow, and the boy himself would gain more independence and resources.
"Gringotts is this way," Chris said, gesturing down the street. "Have you had any other strange experiences with your finances?"
As Harry began hesitantly describing his limited interactions with the wizarding bank, Chris listened attentively, mentally preparing for their arrival at Gringotts and his carefully casual suggestion that Harry might want to inquire about a full accounting of his inheritance.
The towering white marble facade of Gringotts loomed before them, its burnished bronze doors guarded by goblins in scarlet and gold uniforms who eyed each passing wizard with suspicious glances. Chris guided Harry up the stone steps with casual confidence, noting how the boy's shoulders tensed as they approached. The HUD overlay still active in Chris's vision revealed the complex layering of goblin wards that surrounded the bank, far more intricate than most wizards could detect or appreciate, magical barriers designed to prevent theft, deception, and violence within the hallowed financial institution.
They passed through the first set of doors, then the silver inner doors with their engraved warning against theft. The vast marble hall stretched before them, lined with tall counters where goblins weighed gems, counted coins, and scrutinized documents with meticulous attention. The click of their shoes against the polished floor echoed in the cavernous space as Chris led Harry toward a counter with a shorter line.
"Just follow my lead," Chris murmured, noting how Harry clutched his supply list nervously. "Goblins respect directness and proper etiquette."
Harry nodded, his eyes darting around the hall. "I've only been here once before, with Hagrid. He had my key then."
"And who has it now?" Chris asked, though he already guessed the answer.
"Mrs. Weasley, I think. She is helping me with my school things this year."
Chris nodded thoughtfully as they reached the counter. A goblin with wispy grey hair and spectacles perched on his long nose looked up from a ledger, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly as his gaze landed on Chris. Despite the glamour that altered Chris's appearance to human eyes, goblin magic could sense the true essence of a being, and this goblin clearly recognized the magical signature of the Ambrosia heir.
"Griphook," Chris greeted the goblin by name, inclining his head in a show of respect rarely offered by wizards. "May your gold flow and your enemies fall beneath your blade."
The goblin's eyes widened slightly. "Lord Emrys," he responded in a hushed tone. "An unexpected honour. How may Gringotts serve you today?"
Chris leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "My friend requires assistance with a delicate matter regarding his inheritance. This is Harry Potter, and we have reason to believe there may be... irregularities with his account management."
Griphook's gaze shifted to Harry, sharp eyes taking in the lightning scar partially hidden beneath unruly hair. The goblin's expression hardened almost imperceptibly.
"I see," he said, closing his ledger with a snap. "Please follow me to a private chamber."
He hopped down from his high stool and gestured for them to follow. Harry shot Chris a questioning look, clearly surprised by the goblin's sudden willingness to help, but Chris merely nodded reassuringly as they followed Griphook through a side door and down a torch-lit corridor.
"What's happening?" Harry whispered.
"The goblins take inheritance matters very seriously," Chris replied quietly. "Especially for ancient houses like yours."
Griphook led them into a small, elegantly appointed room with a round table at its center. Upon the polished surface sat a shallow silver bowl, an ornate dagger, and a blank piece of parchment that shimmered slightly in the light.
"Mr. Potter," Griphook began formally, "it seems that you may not have been properly informed of your inheritance. Is this correct?"
Harry glanced at Chris before answering. "I... I don't know much about my family or what they might have left me. I only know about my trust vault."
Griphook's lips thinned, which Chris recognized as a sign of goblin displeasure. "This is most irregular. The Potter family is one of our oldest clients." He gestured to the items on the table. "With your permission, we will conduct an inheritance test to verify your identity and determine your rightful access."
"Will it hurt?" Harry asked, eyeing the dagger.
"Three drops of blood only," Griphook assured him. "The magic requires a willing sacrifice, but a minimal one."
After a moment's hesitation, Harry nodded. "Alright."
Chris observed quietly as Griphook guided Harry through the ritual. The boy held his hand over the silver bowl as the goblin made a small nick in his finger with the ceremonial dagger. Three drops of crimson blood fell into the bowl, where they swirled and shimmered before being magically absorbed by the parchment.
Lines of elegant script began to appear on the previously blank surface, spreading outward from the center like unfurling vines. Harry's full name appeared first… Harry James Potter, followed by his parents' names, and then branching further back through generations of Potters, with connecting lines to other prominent families: the Peverell's, the Black's, even a distant connection to the Gryffindors.
Beneath the family tree, another section materialised, listing Harry's titles and holdings: Heir to the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, heir to various properties, businesses, and most significantly, multiple Gringotts vaults, including the main Potter family vault that contained far more than just gold.
Harry stared at the parchment, his mouth slightly open. "All of this is... mine?"
"By blood and by right," Griphook confirmed, his tone unusually grave. "Yet our records show you have never accessed anything beyond your trust vault, which contains a mere fraction of your inheritance."
The goblin snapped his fingers, and another piece of parchment appeared. "This is concerning. According to our records, your magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore, has maintained sole access to your family vault since your parents' deaths, making regular withdrawals for what is listed as 'the care and protection of Harry Potter.'"
Chris watched Harry's expression shift from shock to confusion to dawning anger.
"But I've never seen any of that money," Harry said, his voice tight. "I lived in a cupboard for ten years. My cousin's cast-offs are the only clothes I've ever had. The Dursleys always complained about how much I cost them."
Griphook's expression darkened further. "This constitutes a serious breach of magical guardianship. Additionally, there appear to be monthly transfers to an account at Barclay's bank belonging to the Dursley family starting in November 1981, and more recent transfers to the Weasley family vault."
Harry's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "The Dursleys were paid to keep me? And the Weasleys too?"
"It would appear so," Griphook confirmed. "As the confirmed heir, you have the right to cancel all existing vault keys and request a full audit."
"Do it," Harry said immediately, his voice firmer than Chris had ever heard it. "I want new keys that only I can use."
Griphook nodded with approval. "It shall be done. The audit will take time, but we can issue you a new key immediately." He produced a small golden key from within his vest pocket. "This will access both your trust vault and, now that your identity is confirmed, the Potter family vault. All previous keys are hereby invalidated."
Harry took the key, holding it tightly. "Thank you."
"You may also wish to know," Chris interjected carefully, "that your godfather, Sirius Black, has been exonerated. As your rightful magical guardian, he might be able to help you navigate these matters."
Harry's head snapped up. "My godfather? I have a godfather?"
"Indeed," Chris said. "He was wrongfully imprisoned and couldn't care for you, but he's free now. I imagine he'd be delighted to hear from you."
Harry looked overwhelmed, his eyes darting between the parchment, the key, and Chris. Too much information too quickly, perhaps, but necessary.
"Harry," Chris said gently, "would you mind if I spoke privately with Griphook for a moment? There's another matter I need to discuss. And perhaps you might want some time to process all this."
Harry nodded slowly. "Yes... I should get back to my shopping. The Weasleys will be looking for me soon." His expression hardened slightly at the mention of the family he now knew had been taking his money.
"One more thing," Chris added. "It might be best if you didn't mention my involvement in this. Just say the goblins approached you when you came to the bank. Some people might not appreciate others helping you claim your inheritance. In fact, it may be better if you wait for your godfather to help you before mentioning this to anyone"
Harry nodded, tucking the key safely into his pocket. "Thank you, Chris. I won't forget this."
As Harry left the chamber, escorted by another goblin who would take him back to the main hall, Chris turned to Griphook, satisfaction warming his chest despite his outwardly calm demeanour.
"I believe Chief Ragnok is expecting me," he said. "There's another matter requiring Gringotts' expertise."
Griphook bowed slightly. "Of course, Lord Emrys. I shall escort you to him immediately."
As they walked deeper into the bank, Chris reflected on what they had accomplished. Harry Potter now had access to his full inheritance, knowledge of his godfather, and awareness of Dumbledore's manipulations, all foundations for greater independence. Something that Harry desperately both needs and deserves.
Griphook led Chris deeper into Gringotts, beyond the marble-clad public areas into corridors carved from raw stone, illuminated by flickering torches that cast long shadows across the rough walls. The ambient magic grew denser here, centuries of goblin enchantments layered upon one another, creating a pressure that Chris could feel against his skin like the weight of deep water. His HUD display flickered slightly, the magical density interfering with its projection for a moment as they descended a spiral staircase that burrowed into the very heart of London.
They passed several heavily guarded doors, each bearing unique runic configurations. Goblin guards in armour that absorbed rather than reflected light stood at attention, their expressions impassive but their eyes tracking Chris with unwavering focus. Few wizards ever ventured this deep into goblin territory, and fewer still received the deference that Griphook showed to the young heir of Ambrosia.
Finally, they reached a massive door forged from what appeared to be a single piece of dark iron, its surface etched with intricate goblin runes. Griphook pressed his palm against the center of the door, murmuring words in Gobbledegook.
"Chief Ragnok, Lord Emrys seeks audience," the goblin announced formally.
The runes flared briefly with golden light, and the massive door swung inward without a sound, revealing a spacious office that blended goblin pragmatism with unmistakable opulence. The walls were lined with weapons and artifacts of obvious antiquity and power, while the floor featured an intricate mosaic depicting famous goblin battles. At the center of the room stood a massive desk carved from a single piece of mahogany, its surface bare except for a few precisely arranged documents and a small golden scale.
Behind the desk sat Chief Ragnok, his scarlet and gold robes marking him as the leader of the goblin nation. Despite his advanced age, evident in the deep lines etched into his face and the silver streaking his hair, Ragnok's eyes remained sharp and alert, fixing on Chris with immediate recognition that saw beyond the glamour to the essence beneath.
"Lord Emrys," Ragnok greeted him, rising from his seat in a rare show of respect from a goblin to a wizard. "Your presence honours Gringotts. Please, be seated."
Chris bowed slightly before taking the offered chair. "The honour is mine, Chief Ragnok. May your gold flow endlessly and your enemies fall before your blade."
A hint of approval flickered across Ragnok's stern features. "Your knowledge of our customs does you credit. I've been informed you've been assisting young Potter in claiming his birthright."
"A simple matter of justice," Chris replied. "Harry Potter has been kept deliberately ignorant of his heritage, his wealth, and his rights in our world. Dumbledore's manipulations extend far beyond what is acceptable for a magical guardian."
Ragnok's expression darkened. "Indeed. The audit we've initiated will likely reveal further... irregularities. We've long had concerns about the Headmaster's management of the Potter accounts, but without the heir's direct involvement, our options were limited by wizarding law."
"Harry now has his key and knowledge of his vaults," Chris said. "I've also mentioned his godfather, Sirius Black. Between them, they should be able to address Dumbledore's overreach."
"A significant development," Ragnok agreed. "But I suspect you have not come all this way merely to discuss young Potter's finances."
Chris leaned forward slightly. "You're right. I seek Gringotts' expertise on a matter of some delicacy and danger, the recovery of a family heirloom."
The goblin leader's eyes narrowed with interest. "Continue."
"There is a ring," Chris explained, choosing his words carefully. "It was stolen from my ancestors centuries ago by the Gaunt family, descendants of Salazar Slytherin. The ring bears a particular black stone that belongs rightfully to the Ambrosia line."
This was, of course, a carefully constructed half-truth. The Resurrection Stone had indeed belonged to the Peverells, to whom Chris could claim distant relation through the Ambrosia bloodline, but its connection to the Ambrosia family was tenuous at best. Still, goblin ethics concerning the recovery of stolen property would work in his favour.
"The ring currently resides in the abandoned Gaunt shack near Little Hangleton," Chris continued. "However, it's protected by extremely deadly curses, the work of Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort. Anyone touching the ring directly would suffer a horrific death."
Ragnok's expression remained impassive, though his eyes gleamed with the challenge. "What specifically do you require from Gringotts?"
"A team of your finest curse-breakers and ward specialists," Chris replied. "The protections are beyond what most wizards could handle safely, but goblin magic approaches curses differently. I need the ring retrieved and its curses neutralized without destroying the ring or stone itself."
Ragnok steepled his long fingers, considering the request. "The Gaunt family is extinct in the male line. Under normal circumstances, their possessions would revert to the Ministry. However, if you can provide evidence of prior ownership..."
Chris reached into his robes and withdrew a small scroll bearing the Ambrosia seal. "This document from our archives references the stone's original connection to my family line before its theft. While incomplete, it should establish sufficient claim for goblin law, if not wizarding law."
The goblin chief examined the document carefully. Chris had created it himself, using genuine materials from the Ambrosia archive and magic to age the parchment appropriately. The contents were vague enough to be unverifiable yet specific enough to satisfy goblin requirements for a recovery claim.
"This appears sufficient," Ragnok finally declared. "I will assign a team to investigate the location and retrieve the ring. The curses will be broken without damaging the artifact itself." He paused, fixing Chris with a piercing look. "You understand there will be a fee for such specialized services."
"Of course," Chris agreed smoothly. "Ten thousand galleons upon successful delivery, with a bonus of five thousand if completed before Christmas."
Ragnok's lips curved in what might have been a smile. "Acceptable terms. How shall we arrange delivery once the item is secured?"
"I'll be at Hogwarts when term begins," Chris explained. "Send me a single word by owl – 'complete' – and my house elf Jilly will come to collect the ring from whoever you designate."
"A discreet approach," Ragnok observed. "You anticipate... complications?"
Chris nodded slightly. "Dumbledore has an unfortunate interest in powerful artifacts. The fewer who know about this recovery, the better."
"Understood. Discretion will be maintained." Ragnok made a brief notation on a piece of parchment. "The team will depart tomorrow. I anticipate you'll receive notification soon, barring unexpected difficulties."
"Excellent." Chris felt his heart quicken at how smoothly the arrangement had proceeded. The Resurrection Stone, the second Deathly Hallow, would soon be his. Combined with the Invisibility Cloak he'd already secured, he was well on his way to uniting all three Hallows, an achievement not even Dumbledore had managed despite decades of searching.
He rose from his chair, offering another respectful bow. "Your assistance honours the ancient alliance between our families, Chief Ragnok. May this transaction strengthen the bonds between us."
Ragnok inclined his head. "Until our next meeting, Lord Emrys."
Griphook appeared at the door to escort Chris back to the main hall of Gringotts. As they retraced their path through the stone corridors, Chris allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The day had been extraordinarily productive, he'd empowered Harry Potter, undermined Dumbledore's control, and arranged for the retrieval of the Resurrection Stone, all without revealing his true intentions to anyone.
By the time Christmas arrived, he would likely have two of the three Deathly Hallows in his possession. The Elder Wand remained with Dumbledore for now, but Chris was patient. The proper opportunity to claim it would present itself eventually.
For now, he would return to Diagon Alley to complete his school shopping, his steps lighter with the anticipation of another piece falling perfectly into place. The Resurrection Stone would soon be his, bringing him one step closer to apparently mastering death itself, if the stories were to be believed.