Chapter Text
Harry had never been normal. He was broken–fragmented even. He would sit there blankly, fingers twisting the small silver ring on his finger that Petunia had never dared to take because she swore it was cursed.
Now, Vernon believed Harry was the way he was because of that day he appeared, when all the strange people were dressed in strange cloaks, celebrating something, and whispering about Potters. Petunia had found Harry in the morning, bundled up in a thin blanket, too cold to cry, his little, chubby fingers a deep purple.
The note attached to the basket was troubling. The child was a Potter, and Petunia’s sister, and her husband had died in some stupid wizarding war. Now it was on the Dursleys to take care of another child, along with their already growing Dudley. Petunia just hoped for everything in the world to make sure the child wasn’t magic like her sister had been.
–
Harry was small for his age of ten. Maybe it was the malnourishment, or maybe that was just Potters. From what Petunia remembered, her sister’s husband had been gangly as well when Petunia first met him. That didn’t explain his looks, though. His eyes were soft, but mismatched. One green eye, one soft hazel. He kept his wavy, milky brown hair long, and when Petunia tried to cut it, it was always back the next day. He had a large scar stretching from the right side of his forehead, down over his eye, all the way to the middle of his cheek, branching out over and over like lightning did.
It was when Harry was just a day older than eleven that a woman with unruly, curly hair and large, thick glasses knocked on the door. Her hair was a brown-tinted red, streaked with gray and braided with colorful string and golden jewelry. She smiled kindly when Harry appeared in the doorway.
“Have you been expecting me?” the woman asked curiously. While the question may have seemed confusing to anyone else, as the two had never met before, Harry smiled back and nodded.
“Hogwarts,” he replied simply, like he had known for long what would happen. The woman clapped excitedly.
“Yes, yes, your sight is quite strong. Do you know where we’re going now?” the woman replied, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Harry thought for a moment, mind running through all he remembered, before it came to him.
“Diagon Alley,” he replied, blinking slowly.
“Quite right, dear. I’m impressed,” the woman said with a pleased smile. She pulled out an official letter, handing it over to Harry easily. It was sealed in a way that made it easy for Harry to open it without it ripping.
It was simple–nothing too special, just an introduction Harry had already read in his dreams, and a list of materials he knew by heart. “Will we be heading to Gringotts too?” Harry asked, glancing over towards the woman, whom he knew as Sybill Trelawney. She was another person who could see the same things he did.
“Yes, yes. There are many things to do that they can help us with,” Trelawney replied, holding out her hand. “We’ll go quickly. The alleyway is always less busy in the early morning, so everything should be fine.”
Harry took it–as he already knew exactly where he would end up if he did. The world flipped, and it felt worse than it did in his dreams. He felt dizzy.
“Gringotts is this way,” Trelawney said, recapturing Harry’s attention. He nodded simply and followed her. She must have cast a spell of sorts, because he could feel that constant, subtle poke of deja vu disappear as they continued, and nobody crowded or even noticed him. He had learned early on–when he was experimenting with his visions–that nothing bad really happened if you went against a vision, though it depended on what kind of situation you were in.
Five seconds ahead, he saw Gringott’s; five seconds behind, he felt the deja vu once more. He looked up and saw the imposing bank, as well as the large number of steps leading up to the building. It didn’t bother him as they made their journey up–he had always had to run from Dudly and his friends all the time anyway, so he was rather in shape.
Trelawney went straight to a certain teller, smiling just slightly. “Deathclaw, this is Harry,” she said, gesturing to the boy next to her. “We need to get him access to the Potter Heir and Potter trust accounts again, as he lost access without renewing it within ten years.”
The goblin at the desk nodded. “Of course, Seer Trelawney,” she replied calmly. “We will go do that now. Whiteslash will escort you there.” She gestured to another goblin, who had already appeared sometime while they were talking.
The new goblin, Whiteslash, guided Harry and Trelawney through the maze-like Gringotts, leading them to a door labelled “Blood Inheritance Testing”. Whiteslash opened the door, letting Harry and Trelawney enter first, before following, guiding them again towards the left of the room.
This time, there was a human there, and he bowed his head in respect to Whiteslash, who, in turn, inclined her head the same. “This is Finch–he will do your Blood Inheritance test for you, and explain to you the meanings of each result, and what we can do with it,” Whiteslash explained, and Finch, who looked barely older than twenty, waved nervously.
Whiteslash left quickly after that, and Finch had Harry and Trelawney sit down.
“So, the gist of the test, is that you put a drop of blood on this crystal here, and it will conjure a parchment that includes name, birth parent and family, godparents, blood-adopted family, and such, as well as any inheritences, money-wise or blood-wise, any bindings or compulsions left on your magic core, and any conditions you have,” Finch explained, giving Harry a reassuring smile, pushing a small, ornate dagger towards the boy.
Harry blinked and took the dagger in a careful grasp. He placed it carefully against a finger, but didn’t press, just sliced lightly to get a drop of blood to well up, letting it drop onto the crystal.
Finch seemed to relax once he realized that Harry was able to do the process without mistake. A parchment soon materialized in the young man’s hand, and as he scanned it, his expression grew nervous again. He handed it to Harry silently. As Harry read it himself, he turned it slightly so Trelawney could read as well, though he assumed she had probably already seen it.
Name
Harlem James Potter-Evans.
Age
Eleven years and one day.
Birth Parents, Blood family
James F. Potter-Evans (Birth).
Lily J. Potter-Evans (Birth).
Petunia M. Dursley, nee Evans (Blood).
Blood-adopted family
Remus J. Lupin.
Sirius O. Black.
Godparents
Alice L. Longbottom
Pandora I. Lovegood
Inheritences
Potter Heirship (Accessible).
Potter Lordship (Upon age of majority).
Peverell Heirship (Accessible).
Peverell Lordship (Upon age of majority).
Druid Inheritance (Maternal).
Fae Inheritance (Paternal).
Bindings and Compulsions
Magic growth: ~40% Block (Removal Overdue).
Dark magic: ~50% Block (Removal Required).
Seer ability: ~60% Block (Removal Advised).
Druid Inheritance: Blocked (Removal Advised).
Fae Inheritance: Blocked (Removal Advised).
Recklessness Compulsion (Removal Advised).
Anger Compulsion (Removal Advised).
Charmlessness Compulsion (Removal Advised).
Conditions
Lasting Hypothermia Symptoms (Slowness, tiredness, sensitive to cold temperatures)
Soul Ties to five objects (Silver ring, journal, image, locket, and heart)
Magic Fatigue (~60%)
It was a lot, Harry realized. Most of it was negative, too. Though there were things that he hadn’t known at all–like the fact that his name was actually Harlem, which he rather liked, and the fact that he had two inheritances for creature lines: Fae and Druid.
Finch fidgeted nervously as Harry–or, no, Harlem–looked back up.
“We have several services that can help you get rid of your blocks and compulsions,” Finch explained, carefully. “As well as help with your magic fatigue. Now–soul ties, I’m not quite sure what that entails, but I suppose that’s not a service we can provide. I hope you understand.”
Harlem glanced over at Trelawney, and she nodded slightly. “I will pay for any services–I have quite enough money to spare for a new seer,” she said calmly, and Finch nodded.
“Whiteslash will take you back to our healers, who will see to it that everything will be removed and treated,” Finch said. “They have very advanced practices, so it should not take too long for everything to be finished.”
Trelawney nodded again, and the goblin from before returned, gesturing for the two to follow her.
It took a bit longer to get to this new destination than it did to get to the testing room, but it was emptier than the other, only holding a few other patients.
“Lightheart, I have a child that requires removal of some blocks and compulsions, and some magic fatigue,” Whiteslash said, approaching one of the goblins, who had some white markings painted over the back of their hands. The goblin nodded dutifully in response, gesturing for Harlem to sit on the cot next to them, before they took the parchment from before, reading through it silently.
They peered at Harlem curiously every few lines, and eventually put the parchment down cautiously. Again, they gestured, this time for Harlem to lie down. He did so quickly as to not be a nuisance. Lightheart hovered their palm over the middle of Harlem’s torso, and a dark, sticky, and wholly magic substance formed itself slowly underneath the goblin’s palm.
It felt like ripping off a bandage. Something that melded to your skin and now didn’t want to come off. He felt a little light-headed, but he didn’t actually pass out. It was over quickly. Lightheart had Harlem sit up, handing him an azure-colored potion, shimmery all the way through. It looked like something you would see in a fantasy game. He uncorked the bottle calmly, taking a small, cautious sip, before deciding it didn’t taste too bad. He finished drinking it and handed the empty bottle back to Lightheart.
He felt fine all of a sudden–that ever-present, subtle tiredness and nausea suddenly left. He glanced around the room with renewed interest–like he could see things he couldn’t before. Lightheart smiled slightly.
The goblin gestured for Harlem to stand, handing him a new parchment as he did. The gist of what was written was that now that Harlem had his creature inheritances unblocked, he would start developing a few features and abilities that reflected the two, and that now that his seer ability was fully unblocked, he would be able to harness it better. He was curious about how he could use that information, but now was not the time.
Whiteslash thanked Lightheart calmly, then started to lead Trelawney and Harlem to yet another room. “All that is left for you, young seer,” Whiteslash started calmly, “is to remake a key for your vaults. That will allow you to use the keys to pay for items in the wizarding world,” she explained.
Harlem nodded along nervously, following along into a small room, much smaller than the other two had been. Finch was there again. He really must be an all-around talent if he was in more than one room.
“This is Robin,” Whiteslash said. “He and Finch are twins,” she added, seeing Harlem’s surprised expression at the different name. Harlem nodded slightly, feeling a bit embarrassed that he had assumed. “Robin, this young man needs a new key to his vaults: the Potter Heirship and Peverell Heirship.”
“Ah,” Robin replied, nodding slightly as he opened a drawer in his desk, searching briefly, before he pulled out a key, silver and dainty. He placed it down in a perfectly-fitting mold, whispering a few words, as magic settled into the key. He smiled kindly at Harlem as he handed the boy the key. “Don’t lose this, alright?” he said. Harlem nodded agreeably.
Whiteslash finally led the two out of the maze of rooms and halls, back to the main entrance. Trelawney waved briefly to Deathclaw before the two left.
All in all, the rest of the trip was simple. Harry got his books, his potions supplies, his wand–nothing special, his robes, and a small black cat with silver eyes as his companion. Trelawney thought that it was a great choice.
The two apparated back to the Dursleys’ house, and Harry said goodbye to Trelawney calmly.
He stepped back into his room, noting that none of the Dursleys seemed to be home. Not that he cared, generally. He laid down on the stiff mattress he called a bed, and stiffened as he realized lying on his back hurt for some reason. He shifted to the side and decided that maybe it wasn’t worth it to find out why. He closed his eyes after a minute, and sleep took him.