Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Saves Nine
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Saves Nine
Chapter 1
August 5, 1975
The stillness of the night air was broken as a strong wind swept it's way through the clearing. As the seconds passed, the wind grew stronger, picking up debris from the forest floor. Several moments later it had become a veritable maelstrom of dust and dead grass. As the phenomenon reached its peak, the air suddenly stilled once more, leaving the chaff to fall to the ground. The wind had gone as quickly as it had came, but it left behind a lone figure standing in the center of the clearing.
As the last blade of grass fluttered to the forest floor again, the man who had appeared opened his eyes and glanced around the clearing, searching for any potential threats. Finding none, he raised his right arm and flicked his wrist, catching a thin stick as it shot from his sleeve.
"/Tempus/." Numbers quickly formed in the air, displaying the current time and date: /2:43 AM, 5th August, 1975/. Seeing this, the man smirked and reached into the folds of his cloak with his free hand to withdraw a small spherical object. With a tap of his wand, the black object pulsed with a red glow before he tossed it to the ground. He opened the hand holding his wand, allowing it to slip back into his sleeve and reached up, pulling the hood of the cloak over his head. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he disappeared from the clearing with a soft /pop/. Seconds later, the small globe he had left behind erupted in a storm of red lightening. When the lightening ceased, the clearing was left completely untouched, the only evidence of anything happening was the an odd heavy feeling in the air.
The small forest clearing that was witness to the lone man's appearance and subsequent disappearance in the early hours of the morning was now host to a small army of wizards and witches in the dark blue robes of Ministry Hit Wizards. Interspersed amongst them were several wearing robes of a dark red, identifying them as Aurors. As people rushed back and forth through the clearing, the newly arrived Senior Auror Alastor Moody observed the scene with growing disgust. He stood at the edge of the clearing for several minutes, failing to spot any semblance of order or organization, before raising his wand to the sky and shooting off a stream of sparks, producing a loud bang. All activity in the clearing stopped as they all turned to look at the source of the noise.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say I was watching a bunch of headless chickens," growled Moody. "Running around like idiots isn't going to solve anything. I want a report on the situation before you lot do anything else."
Alastor Moody was an intimidating man with no tolerance for wasting time, so it was no wonder that several wizards tripped over each other in an effort to reach him so they could explain the situation. The first to reach him, one of the Hit Wizards, stood ramrod straight, staring over Moody's head, not daring to look him in the eye. After a few moments of the man trying to build up the courage to speak, Moody let loose a small growl of frustration. He physically shoved the taller man to the side and stomped past him.
"You," he ordered, pointing to a nearby Hit Witch. "Explain. Now."
The witch immediately straightened and stood at attention.
"Several hours ago the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes noted a magical signature on par with high-level ritual magics in an unwarded location. Moments afterward, the magical output blossomed and promptly vanished. It was reported to our department and several squads were sent to investigate. When we arrived, the clearing was empty with no evidence of any sort of ritual magic present."
Moody eyed her for a few seconds.
"Several hours ago, eh?" he questioned.
"Yes, sir. Shortly before three this morning," was the response.
"And your squads arrived when?" Moody eyed the sun well above the horizon.
"Half past seven, sir."
Moody's eyes snapped back to her.
"So you're telling me," the Senior Auror started, "that you suspect that someone preformed a high-level ritual in this clearing, and it took you over four hours to respond?" Seeing the Hit Witch open her mouth to respond, Moody cut her off. "Don't bother answering."
Moody turned and surveyed the people in the clearing once more.
"You, take ten others and search everything within five kilometers of this clearing." he ordered, pointing at one of the Aurors. "Everyone else leave. We won't find anything in this clearing." He turned back to the Hit Witch he'd questioned. "You stay with me, girl."
The 'girl' scowled at the name. No one in the clearing moved.
"Well, what's everyone waiting for? Move!" Several seconds and cracks later, Moody was alone with the Hit Witch in the clearing. "Pay attention, girl, you might learn something."
The scowl deepened.
"My name's not girl. It's Dorea Vane." Being called 'girl' obviously offended her.
"I don't care if you're bloody Morgan le Fey, shut up and you might learn a thing or two." Dorea gaped, but Moody ignored her. "You feel that heaviness in the air?" He didn't bother to wait for her response. "It's an extremely artificial feeling, which means one thing: no amount of surveying will reveal whatever ritual was preformed here."
Dorea obviously didn't understand.
"You can tell that just standing here? It took us an hour to realize we weren't going to get any recognizable ritual signature."
"Of course, girl. Powerful rituals saturate the air with magic. The more powerful the ritual, the more magic it releases, the stronger the feeling in the air. Light rituals tend to make the air seem lighter. Typically the magic saturating the area makes you lightheaded and contented. Dark rituals make the air seem heavier and the immediate area exudes a sense of wrong."
"So you know it was some sort of dark ritual, just not the specific ritual?"
"I don't even know that much. The air here doesn't feel wrong or evil, just unnatural. Heavy air and unnatural feeling means someone artificially supersaturated this area with magic." Moody walked to the center of the clearing and bent down to dig something out of the dirt. He picked up the small sphere and tossed it to Dorea. "And they used this to do it."
Dorea caught the sphere and examined it. She couldn't tell what it was save for a small black ball made of some sort of stone with runes carved into its otherwise smooth surface. Moody either saw her look of confusion or didn't expect her to know what it was, because he began explaining.
"The runes on that stone store magic until it's activated. Something like that would take several people a few weeks to charge with their magical energy. Then you do whatever ritual or spell you want to do, activate that thing, and it releases all the stored magic at once. That magic pouring out and saturating the area destroys any trace of all magical signatures in the area. The ritual was the first signature Accidents and Catastrophes picked up, and the second surge was this sucker activating. Whoever probably apparated in, preformed the ritual, dropped this, and disapparated out. With the Ministry's pathetic response time -" at this, Dorea glared at Moody, who continued on, unfazed "- and the magical saturation destroying any apparition signatures, they didn't have to worry about being caught."
Blissfully unaware of the excitement his arrival had caused, the man who had appeared in the clearing that morning was just waking up in the room he had taken for the night. Preparing for the day ahead, he dressed himself in a pair of dark corduroys and a black collared shirt that would look more at home in the muggle world than the magical. He stood in front of a full length mirror and brushed the fringe of his black hair away from his forehead to examine a faint scar shaped like a bolt of lightening, a souvenir from his life as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. It had, over the year since his defeat of Voldemort, faded to the point it was virtually invisible unless you were looking for it. He turned away from the mirror after a few moments and picked up the traveling cloak from where he had hung it over the back of a chair before going to sleep. The cloak was a dark gray - nearly black - and made of thick material with several comfort charms woven into it. Throwing the cloak over his shoulders, he clasped it at the neck and looked around once before exiting the room.
He descended the stairs to the ground floor of the Leaky Cauldron and made his way over to the bar and sat in front of Tom, the barkeep. Tom, Harry could see, didn't change much between now and when he'd first seen the man sixteen years in the future.
"Got in late last night, you did," commented Tom once he placed the face sitting in front of him. "I'm surprised you're up at this hour, Mr...?"
Harry gave him a smile.
"Schwarz. Atrus Schwarz." He paused a moment. "Unfortunately I have business to conduct today. If it weren't so pressing, I would have found somewhere to stay the night last night and continued on my way here this morning."
"Bad luck, that," the barkeep replied, continuing to polish the glass in his hands. He eyed the clock hanging on the opposite wall. "You care for anything?"
"If you could direct me to somewhere I could get a paper, that'd be great."
Tom reached under the bar and pulled out a copy of /The Daily Prophet/, handing sliding it across the bar. "That'll be four knuts."
Harry thanked him and set four bronze coins down on the bar for the paper before getting up and moving to a table in the back corner of the bar. Harry spent the next ten minutes scanning through the wizarding news to familiarize himself with recent events. Folding the paper up, he slid it into the folds of his cloak and stood. He made his way to the rear exit, giving Tom a short wave, and joined the steady flow of people moving between the floo and the entrance to Diagon Alley.
As he entered the Alley, he noticed that it was crowded, which wasn't too surprising considering the date; Hogwarts term started in less than a month, so families would definitely be shopping for their school things. Reflecting on how little London's wizarding hub had changed, he made his way to Gringotts, pulling his hood up as he walked. Entering the doors of the large white marble building without sparing a glance to either the goblin guards or the binding poem written above the entrance, he ignored the lines in front of the tellers and walked directly up to one of the free goblins. Harry paid no attention to the protests of those he'd cut in front of and reached into his cloak to pull out an intricately carved medallion. The goblin, who'd been about to signal for a guard to 'escort' him out of the bank, instead stared when Harry flashed the medallion.
When the goblin came to his senses, he hurriedly placed a sign saying the station was closed and gestured for Harry to follow him. The teller led him to a set of ornately decorated double doors on the wall opposite the one leading to the vaults. After a rapid exchange of Gobbledegook between the teller and one of the heavily armed and armored goblins guarding the door, the guard eyed Harry for a second before turning and knocking solidly on the door. Almost immediately the door was opened enough for another goblin to stick his head. There was another exchange between the teller and this new goblin which involved several gestures in Harry's direction. The goblin with his head out the door turned his attention to Harry and studied him. Harry must have passed whatever inspection the goblin was giving him, because as soon as the goblin's head disappeared behind the door, it was opened fully and the goblin behind it motioned for Harry to follow. Harry did so and left the teller behind. The doors closed after him as he trailed behind the goblin.
Eventually the goblin led Harry to a small conference room with white marble floors and a table in the middle which seemed to be carved out of a single piece of black marble. The chairs surrounding the circular table were high-backed and made of the same material as the table with white cushions on the seats. As the goblin who had led him here made to leave the room, it turned back to Harry.
"If you would make yourself comfortable, I'll send for someone who can speak with you on the matter you requested." With that, the goblin left the room and closed the door behind him.
Harry sat one of the chairs facing the door and marveled and the wonders of magic; a marble chair had no right being comfortable, yet there he was sitting on one every bit as relaxing as a plush chair. The conference room was obviously for Gringotts' more respected clientèle, as he'd been in several of these rooms in the past - future?- none of which were as nice as this one. Respected meaning, of course, non-bigoted and extremely wealthy, which wasn't a very large group.
Half-an-hour later found Harry leaning back in his chair absentmindedly twirling his wand around his fingers. The door opening drew Harry's attention and he re-holstered his wand, though preparing to draw it again should he need to do so. The man who entered was someone whom Harry recognized instantly. He had to bite his cheek to prevent a chuckle. The man was vampire Harry had inadvertently killed, though at this point he was only a familiar - a mortal in servitude to vampires to conduct their affairs during daylight. The man sat in a chair opposite Harry and the table shrunk to a more appropriate size, the vacant chairs vanishing. He regarded Harry for several moment. Harry calmly kept eye contact as the familiar sitting across the table extended a sloppy legilimency probe that had no chance of penetrating his mental defenses.
"My Masters were informed that you posses a symbol of our Clan, yet I do not recognize you and you walk under the harsh light of the unforgiving sun with no apparent discomfort."
Harry smirked and retrieved the medallion from within his cloak, laying it upon the table between them. Such identifying emblems were only allowed to vampires belonging to a House of the Vampire Nation. The man picked it up and examined it closely.
"No," Harry agreed, "you would not recognize me, Markus Savage."
Harry's smirk widened when Markus' head shot from examining the medallion and stared at him. The familiar set the medallion back on the table so Harry could collect it.
"I... see." He clearly didn't, but he didn't need to.
"I have these two scrolls," explained Harry as he withdrew the objects from his cloak. "One-" he set the first on the table "-for whoever met with me, explaining all they need to know, and the second-" he set this one down as well "-for the House Elders." Markus eyed the two scrolls. The first was a simple piece of parchment magically sealed with a wax imprint of the House symbol. The second was a metal tube sealed at both ends, covered in runic symbols meant to protect the scroll and ensure delivery.
Markus picked up the scroll meant for him from the table and broke the seal, feeling the magic seek out and recognize the brand all familiars had, before unrolling the scroll and reading the contents, He quickly finished and looked back up at Harry as the scroll burned itself to ash and scattered.
"I will make the necessary arrangements and let the goblins know to accommodate you," Markus told him. "Is there anything you need?"
"An identity," answered Harry after a moment's consideration. "I'll need a solid past if I'm to do anything."
Markus nodded as he rose, picking up the metal tube to take with him.
"Of course. I'll have one of the guards fetch a goblin to do that for you." Markus paused slightly before turning for the door. "The Elders may contact you. May the night favor your endeavors."
As the door shut behind Markus, it was all Harry could do to keep from laughing. He'd never actually med Markus Savage before he died, but from what he understood, Markus was arrogant and impatient. Here he had obviously been very polite in hopes of currying favor with him.
Having been sitting for a while, Harry stood and stretched his legs. He walked around the table, taking out his wand and twirling it in his fingers has he did so. Reaching the chair Markus had been sitting in, he leaned against the table next to it, half sitting on the black marble surface. This wait wasn't as long as the previous, and after only a few minutes the door opened once again, this time admitting a small goblin with pointy hat and beard.
The goblin had in his hands a rectangular wooden palette with a piece of parchment affixed to one side and a self-inking quill. He positioned the pallet in the crook of his left arm and looked at Harry over the top of his spectacles.
"You needed an identity?" inquired the goblin. Harry relied that he did. The goblin nodded and /hmm-/ed. "Name?"
"Atrus Schwarz."
The goblin wrote that down on the parchment.
"Date of birth?"
"Er... the 31st of July, 1955"
The goblin marked that down, as well.
"Family?"
"Both parents died in a magical accident three years ago. No other living relatives."
The goblin made a notation. The process continued for nearly ten minutes: the goblin asked a question and marked down Harry's response before asking another. The questions ranged from what was his schooling to how many times had he seen a wizarding doctor and for what.
Finally the goblin tapped the quill to the parchment (which was obviously enchanted), before he nodded and made a positive sounding grunt.
"Well, Mr. Schwarz," started the goblin, sliding the palette and parchment across the table, "if you'll just tap the parchment with your wand, it will reveal your history compiled from the answers you have provided. It is charmed so you won't forget the details." Harry drew his wand and tapped the blank piece of parchment. Words began writing themselves, not unlike the Marauder's Map. He just glanced over the information as it filled the page, then cleared and filled the page several times. The information wasn't on the parchment long enough for comprehension, but the charm ensured everything was committed to memory. When the parchment cleared for the last time and no new information appeared, the goblin continued. "We have a team of goblins creating the necessary records. Everything should be in place by noon tomorrow.
"Now we have one last order of business: the contents of your personal vault and the Schwarz family vault." The goblin gave Harry a toothy grin. "It's not strictly necessary, but it could lend a certain air of... authenticity." If it were at all possible, the goblin's grin grew even toothier.
"Yes, of course." Harry reached into his cloak, impossibly pulling out a metal chest roughly the size of his head and setting it down on the table. "You, of course, recognize this, right?" The goblin nodded. It was a goblin box-vault typically used for transferring the entire contents of one vault to another, though he'd never seen one so large before. For the chest to be so big, it had to be carrying the contents of a vault rivaling those of the old families. "Well, this one will be the family vault." Harry then pulled out a second box, though this was little bigger than his fist. "And this will be my personal vault."
Seeing the shocked look on the Goblin's face mad Harry pleased with his decision to empty his family and trust vaults before coming on this little jaunt to the past.
The goblin nodded dumbly and snapped his fingers. The doors to the room burst open and two heavily armed goblins rushed into the room. The glass-wearing goblin gave the two orders in Gobbledegook. The guards moved to the table to pick up the two box-vaults and their eyes widened comically as they saw the once containing what had once been the Potter family vault. Getting over their surprise, each guard grabbed a box and left the room. Harry saw several more mean looking guards join up as an escort outside the room as they headed towards the carts.
The goblin produced two three keys from a pocket and held them up for Harry to see.
"Two of these keys are your vault keys. They both have the vault number engraved on the head. The lower numbered vault is the Schwarz family vault, naturally." The goblin handed Harry the two keys. "This third one is the key to your family home. Holding it should help you with an apparition location." It handed over the third key.
The goblin left him with a traditional vampiric farewell and was out the door, leaving Harry alone in the room.
With a grin, Harry - newly dubbed Atrus Schwarz - exited the room and wandered out of Gringotts, making his way to the Apparition point so he could settle into his 'family' home.
Last updated: 13th October, 2006
Saves Nine
Chapter 1
August 5, 1975
The stillness of the night air was broken as a strong wind swept it's way through the clearing. As the seconds passed, the wind grew stronger, picking up debris from the forest floor. Several moments later it had become a veritable maelstrom of dust and dead grass. As the phenomenon reached its peak, the air suddenly stilled once more, leaving the chaff to fall to the ground. The wind had gone as quickly as it had came, but it left behind a lone figure standing in the center of the clearing.
As the last blade of grass fluttered to the forest floor again, the man who had appeared opened his eyes and glanced around the clearing, searching for any potential threats. Finding none, he raised his right arm and flicked his wrist, catching a thin stick as it shot from his sleeve.
"/Tempus/." Numbers quickly formed in the air, displaying the current time and date: /2:43 AM, 5th August, 1975/. Seeing this, the man smirked and reached into the folds of his cloak with his free hand to withdraw a small spherical object. With a tap of his wand, the black object pulsed with a red glow before he tossed it to the ground. He opened the hand holding his wand, allowing it to slip back into his sleeve and reached up, pulling the hood of the cloak over his head. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he disappeared from the clearing with a soft /pop/. Seconds later, the small globe he had left behind erupted in a storm of red lightening. When the lightening ceased, the clearing was left completely untouched, the only evidence of anything happening was the an odd heavy feeling in the air.
The small forest clearing that was witness to the lone man's appearance and subsequent disappearance in the early hours of the morning was now host to a small army of wizards and witches in the dark blue robes of Ministry Hit Wizards. Interspersed amongst them were several wearing robes of a dark red, identifying them as Aurors. As people rushed back and forth through the clearing, the newly arrived Senior Auror Alastor Moody observed the scene with growing disgust. He stood at the edge of the clearing for several minutes, failing to spot any semblance of order or organization, before raising his wand to the sky and shooting off a stream of sparks, producing a loud bang. All activity in the clearing stopped as they all turned to look at the source of the noise.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say I was watching a bunch of headless chickens," growled Moody. "Running around like idiots isn't going to solve anything. I want a report on the situation before you lot do anything else."
Alastor Moody was an intimidating man with no tolerance for wasting time, so it was no wonder that several wizards tripped over each other in an effort to reach him so they could explain the situation. The first to reach him, one of the Hit Wizards, stood ramrod straight, staring over Moody's head, not daring to look him in the eye. After a few moments of the man trying to build up the courage to speak, Moody let loose a small growl of frustration. He physically shoved the taller man to the side and stomped past him.
"You," he ordered, pointing to a nearby Hit Witch. "Explain. Now."
The witch immediately straightened and stood at attention.
"Several hours ago the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes noted a magical signature on par with high-level ritual magics in an unwarded location. Moments afterward, the magical output blossomed and promptly vanished. It was reported to our department and several squads were sent to investigate. When we arrived, the clearing was empty with no evidence of any sort of ritual magic present."
Moody eyed her for a few seconds.
"Several hours ago, eh?" he questioned.
"Yes, sir. Shortly before three this morning," was the response.
"And your squads arrived when?" Moody eyed the sun well above the horizon.
"Half past seven, sir."
Moody's eyes snapped back to her.
"So you're telling me," the Senior Auror started, "that you suspect that someone preformed a high-level ritual in this clearing, and it took you over four hours to respond?" Seeing the Hit Witch open her mouth to respond, Moody cut her off. "Don't bother answering."
Moody turned and surveyed the people in the clearing once more.
"You, take ten others and search everything within five kilometers of this clearing." he ordered, pointing at one of the Aurors. "Everyone else leave. We won't find anything in this clearing." He turned back to the Hit Witch he'd questioned. "You stay with me, girl."
The 'girl' scowled at the name. No one in the clearing moved.
"Well, what's everyone waiting for? Move!" Several seconds and cracks later, Moody was alone with the Hit Witch in the clearing. "Pay attention, girl, you might learn something."
The scowl deepened.
"My name's not girl. It's Dorea Vane." Being called 'girl' obviously offended her.
"I don't care if you're bloody Morgan le Fey, shut up and you might learn a thing or two." Dorea gaped, but Moody ignored her. "You feel that heaviness in the air?" He didn't bother to wait for her response. "It's an extremely artificial feeling, which means one thing: no amount of surveying will reveal whatever ritual was preformed here."
Dorea obviously didn't understand.
"You can tell that just standing here? It took us an hour to realize we weren't going to get any recognizable ritual signature."
"Of course, girl. Powerful rituals saturate the air with magic. The more powerful the ritual, the more magic it releases, the stronger the feeling in the air. Light rituals tend to make the air seem lighter. Typically the magic saturating the area makes you lightheaded and contented. Dark rituals make the air seem heavier and the immediate area exudes a sense of wrong."
"So you know it was some sort of dark ritual, just not the specific ritual?"
"I don't even know that much. The air here doesn't feel wrong or evil, just unnatural. Heavy air and unnatural feeling means someone artificially supersaturated this area with magic." Moody walked to the center of the clearing and bent down to dig something out of the dirt. He picked up the small sphere and tossed it to Dorea. "And they used this to do it."
Dorea caught the sphere and examined it. She couldn't tell what it was save for a small black ball made of some sort of stone with runes carved into its otherwise smooth surface. Moody either saw her look of confusion or didn't expect her to know what it was, because he began explaining.
"The runes on that stone store magic until it's activated. Something like that would take several people a few weeks to charge with their magical energy. Then you do whatever ritual or spell you want to do, activate that thing, and it releases all the stored magic at once. That magic pouring out and saturating the area destroys any trace of all magical signatures in the area. The ritual was the first signature Accidents and Catastrophes picked up, and the second surge was this sucker activating. Whoever probably apparated in, preformed the ritual, dropped this, and disapparated out. With the Ministry's pathetic response time -" at this, Dorea glared at Moody, who continued on, unfazed "- and the magical saturation destroying any apparition signatures, they didn't have to worry about being caught."
Blissfully unaware of the excitement his arrival had caused, the man who had appeared in the clearing that morning was just waking up in the room he had taken for the night. Preparing for the day ahead, he dressed himself in a pair of dark corduroys and a black collared shirt that would look more at home in the muggle world than the magical. He stood in front of a full length mirror and brushed the fringe of his black hair away from his forehead to examine a faint scar shaped like a bolt of lightening, a souvenir from his life as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. It had, over the year since his defeat of Voldemort, faded to the point it was virtually invisible unless you were looking for it. He turned away from the mirror after a few moments and picked up the traveling cloak from where he had hung it over the back of a chair before going to sleep. The cloak was a dark gray - nearly black - and made of thick material with several comfort charms woven into it. Throwing the cloak over his shoulders, he clasped it at the neck and looked around once before exiting the room.
He descended the stairs to the ground floor of the Leaky Cauldron and made his way over to the bar and sat in front of Tom, the barkeep. Tom, Harry could see, didn't change much between now and when he'd first seen the man sixteen years in the future.
"Got in late last night, you did," commented Tom once he placed the face sitting in front of him. "I'm surprised you're up at this hour, Mr...?"
Harry gave him a smile.
"Schwarz. Atrus Schwarz." He paused a moment. "Unfortunately I have business to conduct today. If it weren't so pressing, I would have found somewhere to stay the night last night and continued on my way here this morning."
"Bad luck, that," the barkeep replied, continuing to polish the glass in his hands. He eyed the clock hanging on the opposite wall. "You care for anything?"
"If you could direct me to somewhere I could get a paper, that'd be great."
Tom reached under the bar and pulled out a copy of /The Daily Prophet/, handing sliding it across the bar. "That'll be four knuts."
Harry thanked him and set four bronze coins down on the bar for the paper before getting up and moving to a table in the back corner of the bar. Harry spent the next ten minutes scanning through the wizarding news to familiarize himself with recent events. Folding the paper up, he slid it into the folds of his cloak and stood. He made his way to the rear exit, giving Tom a short wave, and joined the steady flow of people moving between the floo and the entrance to Diagon Alley.
As he entered the Alley, he noticed that it was crowded, which wasn't too surprising considering the date; Hogwarts term started in less than a month, so families would definitely be shopping for their school things. Reflecting on how little London's wizarding hub had changed, he made his way to Gringotts, pulling his hood up as he walked. Entering the doors of the large white marble building without sparing a glance to either the goblin guards or the binding poem written above the entrance, he ignored the lines in front of the tellers and walked directly up to one of the free goblins. Harry paid no attention to the protests of those he'd cut in front of and reached into his cloak to pull out an intricately carved medallion. The goblin, who'd been about to signal for a guard to 'escort' him out of the bank, instead stared when Harry flashed the medallion.
When the goblin came to his senses, he hurriedly placed a sign saying the station was closed and gestured for Harry to follow him. The teller led him to a set of ornately decorated double doors on the wall opposite the one leading to the vaults. After a rapid exchange of Gobbledegook between the teller and one of the heavily armed and armored goblins guarding the door, the guard eyed Harry for a second before turning and knocking solidly on the door. Almost immediately the door was opened enough for another goblin to stick his head. There was another exchange between the teller and this new goblin which involved several gestures in Harry's direction. The goblin with his head out the door turned his attention to Harry and studied him. Harry must have passed whatever inspection the goblin was giving him, because as soon as the goblin's head disappeared behind the door, it was opened fully and the goblin behind it motioned for Harry to follow. Harry did so and left the teller behind. The doors closed after him as he trailed behind the goblin.
Eventually the goblin led Harry to a small conference room with white marble floors and a table in the middle which seemed to be carved out of a single piece of black marble. The chairs surrounding the circular table were high-backed and made of the same material as the table with white cushions on the seats. As the goblin who had led him here made to leave the room, it turned back to Harry.
"If you would make yourself comfortable, I'll send for someone who can speak with you on the matter you requested." With that, the goblin left the room and closed the door behind him.
Harry sat one of the chairs facing the door and marveled and the wonders of magic; a marble chair had no right being comfortable, yet there he was sitting on one every bit as relaxing as a plush chair. The conference room was obviously for Gringotts' more respected clientèle, as he'd been in several of these rooms in the past - future?- none of which were as nice as this one. Respected meaning, of course, non-bigoted and extremely wealthy, which wasn't a very large group.
Half-an-hour later found Harry leaning back in his chair absentmindedly twirling his wand around his fingers. The door opening drew Harry's attention and he re-holstered his wand, though preparing to draw it again should he need to do so. The man who entered was someone whom Harry recognized instantly. He had to bite his cheek to prevent a chuckle. The man was vampire Harry had inadvertently killed, though at this point he was only a familiar - a mortal in servitude to vampires to conduct their affairs during daylight. The man sat in a chair opposite Harry and the table shrunk to a more appropriate size, the vacant chairs vanishing. He regarded Harry for several moment. Harry calmly kept eye contact as the familiar sitting across the table extended a sloppy legilimency probe that had no chance of penetrating his mental defenses.
"My Masters were informed that you posses a symbol of our Clan, yet I do not recognize you and you walk under the harsh light of the unforgiving sun with no apparent discomfort."
Harry smirked and retrieved the medallion from within his cloak, laying it upon the table between them. Such identifying emblems were only allowed to vampires belonging to a House of the Vampire Nation. The man picked it up and examined it closely.
"No," Harry agreed, "you would not recognize me, Markus Savage."
Harry's smirk widened when Markus' head shot from examining the medallion and stared at him. The familiar set the medallion back on the table so Harry could collect it.
"I... see." He clearly didn't, but he didn't need to.
"I have these two scrolls," explained Harry as he withdrew the objects from his cloak. "One-" he set the first on the table "-for whoever met with me, explaining all they need to know, and the second-" he set this one down as well "-for the House Elders." Markus eyed the two scrolls. The first was a simple piece of parchment magically sealed with a wax imprint of the House symbol. The second was a metal tube sealed at both ends, covered in runic symbols meant to protect the scroll and ensure delivery.
Markus picked up the scroll meant for him from the table and broke the seal, feeling the magic seek out and recognize the brand all familiars had, before unrolling the scroll and reading the contents, He quickly finished and looked back up at Harry as the scroll burned itself to ash and scattered.
"I will make the necessary arrangements and let the goblins know to accommodate you," Markus told him. "Is there anything you need?"
"An identity," answered Harry after a moment's consideration. "I'll need a solid past if I'm to do anything."
Markus nodded as he rose, picking up the metal tube to take with him.
"Of course. I'll have one of the guards fetch a goblin to do that for you." Markus paused slightly before turning for the door. "The Elders may contact you. May the night favor your endeavors."
As the door shut behind Markus, it was all Harry could do to keep from laughing. He'd never actually med Markus Savage before he died, but from what he understood, Markus was arrogant and impatient. Here he had obviously been very polite in hopes of currying favor with him.
Having been sitting for a while, Harry stood and stretched his legs. He walked around the table, taking out his wand and twirling it in his fingers has he did so. Reaching the chair Markus had been sitting in, he leaned against the table next to it, half sitting on the black marble surface. This wait wasn't as long as the previous, and after only a few minutes the door opened once again, this time admitting a small goblin with pointy hat and beard.
The goblin had in his hands a rectangular wooden palette with a piece of parchment affixed to one side and a self-inking quill. He positioned the pallet in the crook of his left arm and looked at Harry over the top of his spectacles.
"You needed an identity?" inquired the goblin. Harry relied that he did. The goblin nodded and /hmm-/ed. "Name?"
"Atrus Schwarz."
The goblin wrote that down on the parchment.
"Date of birth?"
"Er... the 31st of July, 1955"
The goblin marked that down, as well.
"Family?"
"Both parents died in a magical accident three years ago. No other living relatives."
The goblin made a notation. The process continued for nearly ten minutes: the goblin asked a question and marked down Harry's response before asking another. The questions ranged from what was his schooling to how many times had he seen a wizarding doctor and for what.
Finally the goblin tapped the quill to the parchment (which was obviously enchanted), before he nodded and made a positive sounding grunt.
"Well, Mr. Schwarz," started the goblin, sliding the palette and parchment across the table, "if you'll just tap the parchment with your wand, it will reveal your history compiled from the answers you have provided. It is charmed so you won't forget the details." Harry drew his wand and tapped the blank piece of parchment. Words began writing themselves, not unlike the Marauder's Map. He just glanced over the information as it filled the page, then cleared and filled the page several times. The information wasn't on the parchment long enough for comprehension, but the charm ensured everything was committed to memory. When the parchment cleared for the last time and no new information appeared, the goblin continued. "We have a team of goblins creating the necessary records. Everything should be in place by noon tomorrow.
"Now we have one last order of business: the contents of your personal vault and the Schwarz family vault." The goblin gave Harry a toothy grin. "It's not strictly necessary, but it could lend a certain air of... authenticity." If it were at all possible, the goblin's grin grew even toothier.
"Yes, of course." Harry reached into his cloak, impossibly pulling out a metal chest roughly the size of his head and setting it down on the table. "You, of course, recognize this, right?" The goblin nodded. It was a goblin box-vault typically used for transferring the entire contents of one vault to another, though he'd never seen one so large before. For the chest to be so big, it had to be carrying the contents of a vault rivaling those of the old families. "Well, this one will be the family vault." Harry then pulled out a second box, though this was little bigger than his fist. "And this will be my personal vault."
Seeing the shocked look on the Goblin's face mad Harry pleased with his decision to empty his family and trust vaults before coming on this little jaunt to the past.
The goblin nodded dumbly and snapped his fingers. The doors to the room burst open and two heavily armed goblins rushed into the room. The glass-wearing goblin gave the two orders in Gobbledegook. The guards moved to the table to pick up the two box-vaults and their eyes widened comically as they saw the once containing what had once been the Potter family vault. Getting over their surprise, each guard grabbed a box and left the room. Harry saw several more mean looking guards join up as an escort outside the room as they headed towards the carts.
The goblin produced two three keys from a pocket and held them up for Harry to see.
"Two of these keys are your vault keys. They both have the vault number engraved on the head. The lower numbered vault is the Schwarz family vault, naturally." The goblin handed Harry the two keys. "This third one is the key to your family home. Holding it should help you with an apparition location." It handed over the third key.
The goblin left him with a traditional vampiric farewell and was out the door, leaving Harry alone in the room.
With a grin, Harry - newly dubbed Atrus Schwarz - exited the room and wandered out of Gringotts, making his way to the Apparition point so he could settle into his 'family' home.
Last updated: 13th October, 2006
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