Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me.
Chapter 3
~ Harry Potter ~
"S-sirius wanted to adopt me?" Harry asked, shock colouring his voice, as he stared wide-eyed at the director.
Nodding, Ragnok said, "Yes, Mr Potter. Your godfather did not have the physical capability to father a child anymore, after spending the better part of a decade and half in Azkaban, and he figured this would help you in your future more than it would ever help him. Additionally, you being a half-blood would be his final 'screw you' to his family."
They had decided to first have Harry claim his lordship, before they proceeded with the ritual that would free him of that accursed Horcrux and Voldemort's taint. The goblins theorized that claiming his lordship would strengthen the existing magical core within him with his family's ancestral magic. This would anchor his soul to his physical body a lot more than the Horcrux inside.
Theoretically, it would be easier to get rid of the soul piece of Voldemort after that.
Now adding the strength of the Black family and their magic, it would be downright impossible for the ritual to go wrong. But Harry wasn't exceptionally positive yet. He knew how his luck functioned.
How he missed having a bottle of Felix Felicis right about now.
"Before we proceed, Mr Potter, I would ask you to pour a few drops of your blood on this parchment," Ragnok continued, snapping his fingers as one of the guards brought a piece of parchment in front of them. "This is just standard Gringotts procedure. Just to continue your identity."
Harry, doing as he was told, pricked his finger with a simple hex, letting a few drops of his blood fall onto the piece of paper as instructed. Once done, he fixed it quickly with an Episkey.
His healing charms were a bit rusty, but it did the job.
As the Director muttered a few sentences in the goblin tongue, he watched the parchment in front of him be filled with words. Words that detailed his ancestry and his potential inheritance.
Inheritance Test
Name: Harry James Potter
Age: 17
Father: James Fleamont Potter
Mother: Lily James Potter
Sworn Godparents: Sirius Orion Black/Alice Frank Longbottom
Eligible Lordship(s):
Potter (Heir through Father, Lord James Potter)
Black (Heir through Godfather, Lord Sirius Black)
"As you can see, Mr Potter," Ragnok began. "We can have you claim your Lordships now itself. The added protection from the assimilation and activation of your family magic would allow us to eradicate the Horcrux with more ease than what could usually be done."
"H-how do I do that?" Harry asked, his voice breaking up as he stared at the Director. The fact that Sirius had wanted to do so much for him. And Harry had failed to save him.
He had failed a lot of people in his life, but he would damn sure avenge them.
"That's the easy part, Mr Potter," Ragnok said, snapping his fingers as the doors opened. A goblin walked in carrying to small boxes. Harry had never seen one in reality, but it looked like a jewellery box.
Placing the boxes in front of the director, the goblin retreated back ton where he came from.
Ragnok opened both boxes, revealing the contents inside to the wizard in front of him.
"This is the Potter family ring, worn by every Lord since your House achieved the status of nobility," Ragnok said, his fingers holding a simple ring made out of iron, bearing the symbol of a triangle, with a line in the middle and a circle surrounding it. "Your father, unfortunately never had the chance to wear it."
The moment he placed the ring in Harry's palm; it felt like the ring completed a missing part of him. Without a second thought, Harry slipped it onto his ring finger, the artifact resizing itself to fit his finger.
A surge of magical energy flowed through Harry. It felt like his magical channels had been cleansed. He could feel his innate source of energy extremely clearly, something he had never done before. The sensation must have only lasted a few seconds, but those few seconds made Harry feel more magically powerful than ever before.
"Congratulations, Lord Potter," Ragnok said, a toothed grin showing on his face. "Now the Black family ring."
Sliding over the other box, Harry laid his eyes on the legacy Sirius left for him. The ring was ornate. A ring worthy of the Black family. With the engraving of a Thunderbird, and the house motto 'Toujours Pur' written on it, it looked every bit as magnificent as the Potter ring.
Putting the ring on his middle finger, Harry felt a chill run down his spine, his body going cold for a moment as he felt the eyes of the previous wearers of the ring judge him and his worth. The last time Harry felt something like this was when the Goblet of Fire spat out his name.
Thankfully, it only lasted a short while.
"That's done now," Ragnok said, commanding the boxes to be taken away. "You are now Lord Potter and Lord Black. That gives you complete power over both houses, its members and the political weight they bring. We can go over everything at a later date. Right now, you and I have more pressing matters to attend to."
Turning his eyes towards his subordinates, he ordered, "Prepare the ritual room."
~ Harry Potter ~
The air grew colder the deeper they descended. The mine cart had long stopped its wild careening; now, Harry walked with two goblins at his side, Ragnok ahead of them, leading the way to the Ritual Chambers of the Goblin kind, hidden deep beneath the walls of Gringotts. Their torches cast eerie shadows against the jagged walls, and every footstep echoed like a whisper in a tomb.
They entered a stone chamber that pulsed with old magic—thick and ancient. Runes carved deep into the floor glowed faintly gold, crisscrossing in symmetrical patterns like veins. In the center, a circular slab of pitch-black stone - likely obsidian, Harry theorized - waited, humming softly with power. A goblin, dressed in robes unlike Harry had ever seen, stood beside the altar. His deep blood red robes, made the already eldritch setting look ever more unnatural and spectral.
"Boneclaw," Ragnok acknowledge the goblin priest, as the now named Boneclaw bowed in deference towards the Director.
"Place yourself on the altar, Mr. Potter," Ragnok said in his gravelly voice, his tone neither cruel nor kind—just ancient.
Harry stepped forward without a word and lay down, the obsidian surprisingly warm beneath his back. The stone felt alive, as though it recognized his pain.
Ragnok handed the ritualist a blade with a bone hilt, its edge made of a dull green metal Harry didn't recognize. Boneclaw raised it, then glanced at Harry.
"This will hurt."
Harry nodded once. "Just do it."
The goblin slashed the tip of the blade across Harry's sternum. It was shallow, but immediate — white-hot pain flared, followed by a strange vibrating hum deep within his chest.
The chamber darkened as the golden runes turned crimson.
Harry's breath caught.
From the wound, thin wisps of black smoke began to rise, curling unnaturally, twisting like something sentient. The Horcrux was reacting—fighting back.
~ Voldemort, Malfoy Manor ~
The chamber was silent, thick with tension. A dozen black-robed Death Eaters stood around the long, polished table as Voldemort sat at the head, fingers steepled, eyes glowing faintly in the low candlelight.
Then, he twitched.
A flicker of something foreign, something wrong, passed across his serpentine face. He froze.
And then it hit him.
A pain so sudden, so alien, that he recoiled as if stabbed. His hands shot up to his skull, clawing at his scalp.
"Aaagghhh!"
The scream tore through the room like a thunderclap. The Death Eaters jolted in place as Voldemort collapsed to his knees, writhing in pure agony. His breathing was ragged, wild, as if something inside him was being ripped away.
"Master!" Bellatrix shrieked, bolting forward, only to freeze in place at the sight of his wand lashing out.
"Crucio!"
The curse slammed into Lucius Malfoy. The man's back arched as he hit the marble floor, spasming violently. But Voldemort wasn't done. He turned wildly, his eyes glassy, unfocused, and hurled the next curse.
"Crucio!!"
Severus Snape crumpled, teeth gritted in a silent scream as magic poured into him like molten iron.
"MAKE IT STOP!" Voldemort howled—not at them, but at something unseen. His voice cracked with rage and… fear.
A shriek, echoing only in his head, rang out. A connection being severed. A soul link breaking down.
Somewhere far away—he could feel it—one of his anchors, a piece of himself, was being dragged out, exorcised, utterlyobliterated. It was as if a thousand knives had been driven into his chest at once. He tried to reach for it, to hold it back—but it was slipping through his fingers like sand.
"NO! WHO DARES—!"
He thrashed, clutching his skull, gasping, as blood vessels burst in his eyes. The candles flickered and flared as if reacting to his magic flailing uncontrollably. The chandeliers rattled. The temperature plummeted.
Bellatrix backed away in horror, her voice trembling.
"Snape—do something! He's—he's in pain!"
But Snape could only groan, twitching on the ground in a twisted sprawl, the effects of the earlier curse still wracking his limbs.
~ Harry Potter ~
"He's resisting," Ragnok warned, eyes narrowing.
Boneclaw, with sharp eyes and a hateful glare, slammed the tip of his staff onto the runes at the altar's edge. The entire room pulsed. Flames burst from the torches, casting long shadows that danced wildly across the walls.
The smoke from Harry's chest thickened, now forming into vague shapes—faces, mouths, whispers. He heard them all.
"Weak… unloved… alone…"
He clenched his jaw, fists curling tightly. Not real. Not anymore.
The smoke coalesced above him—into the form of a child with Tom Riddle's face, eyes glowing blood-red, mouth twisted into a sneer.
"You'll never be free of me," it hissed.
But Bonclaw was already chanting in the guttural goblin tongue, each word sending ripples of force into the air. The runes beneath Harry flared brighter. The red smoke-shape shrieked in agony as the obsidian slab grew searing hot.
"Sarthak ven'morad (Begone pest)!" Boneclaw shouted.
A burst of blue light erupted from the staff and slammed into the Horcrux.
It exploded.
Harry screamed as every nerve in his body ignited. He arched off the stone, then collapsed, gasping. The smoke vanished, leaving only the scent of sulphur and something like burned parchment in the air.
Silence descended.
Boneclaw looked at him with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded. "It is done," the goblin said. "The parasite is gone."
Harry lay still, the pain fading. For the first time in years, the inside of his mind felt… quiet.
"Thank you," he rasped.
Boneclaw didn't answer. Or maybe Harry did not hear him. His eyes rapidly closing, as he felt the call of Morpheus.
For the first time in 17 years, Harry Potter was not plagued by the existence of his mortal enemy.
~ Harry Potter ~
Numbness. That's all Harry felt the moment he woke up from his first dreamless sleep in a long, long time.
4 years.
That's how long it had been since he had been tormented by the rebirth of Voldemort. The event that started an endless cycle of nightmares, visions and excruciating pain.
Now that he was free of the soul piece of his nemesis, Harry could finally be himself again.
"Welcome back, Lord Potter," he heard a gravelly voice speak to him.
Pushing his body to move upright, Harry focused his vision on the speaker around him, finding the satisfied face of Ragnok looking at him.
"Ragnok," Harry croaked, his voice hoarse from the screaming, signifying the toll it took on his body.
"The ritual was completed successfully, Lord Potter," Ragnok began, his little form walking around in a circle around Harry. "It wasn't something we had done before, but dare I say, the results speak for themselves. Take a look."
Ragnok gestured towards a large, ornate mirror next to Harry. It reminded him a lot of the Mirror of Erised from his first year. But unlike that one, this one did not show any visions.
Though Harry did suspect it initially.
"Am I taller?" Harry said, flexing his form, watching the image in the mirror showing every single detail of his body.
"Taller, more muscular, and from what we could detect, astronomically more powerful than before. Now that your magical energy doesn't have to hold back a soul sucking parasite, it has allowed your body and magical core to reach full potential. I would advise you to let it stabilize. You might want to allow your elves a chance at handling any magical work for a few days," Ragnok explained, seeing the man in front of him get used to handling his physical changes.
Harry couldn't even fathom the way he looked right now. Was it really him?
His height had shot up to a little over six feet. His body, while always lean and quite a bit muscular because of years or Quidditch, now looked like something straight out of a Witch Weekly catalogue. His hair was the same, and so were his eyes. But a glow illuminated them.
Like the twinkle Dumbledore used to have in his eyes.
"Unfortunately, during the process of destroying Riddle's soul, the magical output shredded your clothes. In hindsight, they wouldn't fit you anyway. We took the liberty of calling your elf with a change of clothes for yourself. Something more befitting your new station," Ragnok said, pointing at a pile of neatly arranged clothing for Harry.
"And once you're done, you might want to take this," Ragnok continued, placing a small glass bottle on a nearby table. "It is a refreshing potion, just something to help you back on your feet quicker. You will need it after all."
That last line brought Harry out of his reverie.
"I will need it? For what, if I may ask?" Harry questioned, his tone measured, realising who he was speaking to, and whether there was something amiss.
"Well, Mr Potter, you are now Lord Black as well. And as Lord Black, your attention is required in an urgent matter," Ragnok clarified with a smirk, somehow confusing Harry even more.
And with that, the Goblin Overlord began striding out of the chambers.
"Do not be late, Lord Potter."
~ Narcissa Malfoy ~
Straightening her robes, Narcissa rested herself on the seat provided to her, facing the Black family's account manager, Ironshard. She remembered him from the few times her father and uncle had taken her with them while they conducted business.
Her father couldn't ever refuse his youngest daughter.
The goblin however, did not even look up once. He briefly acknowledged her when she entered, but apart from that, the stack of papers on his wooden desk were the only focus of his attention.
Clearing her throat, she began politely, "Good evening. I was told I would be able to meet the heir to House Black today."
Looking up from his desk, the goblin only replied with one word, "Wait."
How rude.
That was not how you spoke to a lady. If she wasn't in a desperate situation, she wouldn't think twice before storming out.
The door opened behind her and she turned around, hoping to come face to face with the mystery heir her cousin had appointed.
But it turned out to be just another goblin.
At least this one was dressed more impeccably than the one who had been… entertaining her.
Speaking of him, Ironshard's eyes widened as he stumbled and stood up straight, his oh so important work remained forgotten.
"Lord Ragnok?!" Ironshard greeted, startled out of his chair and wits. "I was not aware that you would be coming here, sire."
Ragnok?
As in the overlord of the goblin nation? The most important goblin at Gringotts?
Quickly getting to her feet, Narcissa greeted the newcomer with a slight bow, "Lord Ragnok."
Ragnok gave a curt nod in return, acknowledging both Narcissa and Ironshard with a glance sharp enough to silence the room. He was smaller than the average wizard might expect—but somehow, his presence filled every inch of the office. His ring of Gringotts' High Authority sat heavy on his clawed hand.
"Sit," he said, his voice a gravelly command that brooked no resistance.
Narcissa resumed her seat, crossing her legs neatly, her spine straight. She wasn't intimidated—not visibly—but she was beginning to sense that today's events were far from ordinary.
"Ironshard," Ragnok said, taking a seat behind the desk. Ironshard, now left standing beside his own desk. "I trust you have not yet informed her?"
Ironshard's face tightened. "I deemed it… premature, my lord."
"Of course you did," Ragnok said, shooting a crooked smiled towards her. "Well, don't let me spoil it for you. This shall be fun."
Fun?
Were the two goblins conspiring over something that would put her in more hot water than she already was?
Slightly tensing, Narcissa put her guard up. An emergency portkey back to her room remained well within reach of her. If things went south, she would be back at Malfoy Manor within seconds.
Then the door opened again.
And a chill ran down Narcissa's spine.
The sheer amount of magic that had suddenly assaulted her senses, made her fear what kind of entity had walked in.
The only time she had felt a presence like this was during the First War. The first time she had laid her eyes on the Dark Lord, at her wedding with Lucius.
Turning in her seat, she didn't see the red eyes she had become so used to fearing. Instead, she found herself looking into a vibrant shade of viridian green eyes with glasses framing them.
Eyes that radiated magical power.
And the person they belonged to?
Dressed up in immaculate robes, that fit his tall form perfectly. And dare she say, she quite enjoyed the sight. A wizard, who most likely was her son's age, walked inside with an air of authority. Black messy hair that somehow managed to look great on his self, bounced a little as he made his way towards them, one step at a time.
"Narcissa Malfoy, meet the new Lord Black. Lord Harry Potter," Ragnok said, a massive grin directed straight at the two humans in the room, surprising both of them.
What the hell was going on?
Author's Notes
Done and dusted. I was originally planning on making this a short series but seeing the response I have decided to prolong it a little.
The polls will decide what story will be updated after that.
Till then, see ya.