Holy Hell. Thank you so much for all the support I received. Two days and ~200 follows and ~110 favorites? That's insane. I don't know that I deserve that, but wow. Sincerely, thank you.

This chapter is a little shorter, and is more explaining than anything. It's probably a little on the boring side, but it's gotta happen sometime. As always, let me know if there's something that doesn't make sense (logically) or if there are any grammatical errors anywhere, and I'll do my best to correct them.

I'll try and respond to reviews as I am able, but seriously, thank you for all the kind words. You're the best.

"I better be off. I have a lot to think about. Thanks for you help. I… really can't repay you."

"You probably can," Tracy pointed out, "the Potter family is ridiculously rich."

"Yeah, guess they are," Harry smiled, but they knew there was no merit to it. It looked fake, polite if anything.

Without another word Harry put the cloak back over his shoulders and casted the silencing spell on his feet again before leaving the library.

"Did… that just happen?" Tracy said after a few moments.

"What did I get us into?" Zabini agreed.

The rest of the school year was a lot of the same; brushing up on subjects he may have neglected courtesy of the TriWizard Tournament. The library was a useful tool for him; nearly all his time was spent there, away from prying eyes.

Emerald eyes stared out the compartment window, watching the scenery rush past him. The constant tug of the train lulled him into comfortability, and since he had the compartment all to his own, Harry spread out his legs and leaned against the wall behind him.

Hedwig, who Harry had let out of his cage, was on the opposite seat, watching him. He reached out and gently stroked the bird on the cheek, which earned him a loving nip to his knuckles.

Contact with the Slytherin Trio - as he liked to call them - was minimal, and he almost didn't see them after the insightful conversation at the library. Zabini found him at the beginning of the train ride to tell him to meet Daphne at the floo network in his glamour guise. Harry agreed and didn't say much else to the boy, who had closed the compartment door.

Ron and Hermione had stopped trying to talk to him altogether. It really didn't surprise him; he expected as much. It hurt, and whenever he saw their faces his heart would break a little, but he pushed past it.

There were better things to worry about. Like how his life was one giant conspiracy.

He hadn't made any progress in his 'wandless magic' besides testing out a few spells. He was successful at the silencing charm and the unlocking charm, but other than those and the original two he figured out, progress with wandless magic was stagnant, which he wasn't terribly surprised at.

The loud train whistle shook him out of his thoughts, and he felt the thundering herd of hundreds of students making a single-file line out of the several sets of doors. Harry decided to just sit there and wait the herd out before putting on a glamour - which consisted of light brown hair, stubble, and brown eyes - and walking out into the station.

The one thing he didn't account for was the Dursley's waiting to pick him up, but he decided to worry about that later. They'd beat him something fierce for making them wait so long, but he didn't care.

He suffered through worse, lately.

The floo network was all but abandoned by the time he walked over. Daphne was waiting with a tall man who was built solid, square shoulders and a posture that looked picture perfect. His hair was brown and his eyes were blue, much like Daphne's.

Harry nodded in her direction, and her eyes lit up in recognition. She poked her father in the side and whispered something to him, pointing in Harry's direction.

With a couple strides, the man met Harry half-way and extended his hand. "Mr. Potter, pleasure to meet you. Cyrus Greengrass."

Harry shook the man's hand and nodded politely. "Uh, nice to meet you, too, sir."

"Daphne told me you'd like to visit Gringotts for personal business? My job involves a lot of visits there, and when she said she was taking a friend, I offered my assistance. You don't mind, do you?"

Harry took a glance at Daphne. She inclined her head in the subtlest of nods. If she claims her father to be trustworthy, then who was he to judge? He had no idea what he was doing, might as well let a professional help him. "No, sir."

Cyrus waved Harry off and sighed. "None of that 'sir' business, makes me feel like I'm old or at work. Cyrus will do."

"Yes, sir- sorry, si- I mean, okay," Harry flustered out.

Cyrus laughed and motioned for him to join his daughter at the floo network. She was watching him with an amused expression.

"To the Leaky Cauldron, then?" Harry nodded and they entered their respective floo stalls.

"The Leaky Cauldron!" He heard them both say, and he followed suit, grabbing a pinch of powder and dropping it at his feet.

His world felt like it was being thrusted down a tight tube. The air was being forced out of his lungs and he struggled to breathe, but the sensation was gone quick as it came.

Harry felt himself fall and he caught himself, grabbing the edge of the stall to steady himself upright. "Nice catch," Cyrus smiled at him, and when Daphne arrived not a second later, they exited the establishment and headed down the alley, toward Gringotts.

No matter how many times he came here, he was amazed at the goblin's building.

It was huge and everything looked pristine; gold and wealth were the first things that came to mind whenever he entered the bank. Very few people were visiting today, which suited Harry just fine. Cyrus pushed past the wandering people and goblins and went to the reception desk.

"Excuse me," Cyrus said, catching the attention of the goblin at the counter, "I'm here with a friend who would like to look into his lineage."

"Name?" The goblin barked out in a hasty tone.

"Harry Potter," Cyrus said quietly, gesturing toward the boy at his side.

The goblin frowned at the boy and gave him a death glare. "You've been avoiding a lot of payments, boy, we were wondering when you would show your face."

Cyrus looked surprised at this, but Harry interjected before he could say anything. "That's impossible, sir, I have no idea about any payments-"

"That's a lie," he spat back, "we sent you numerous letters regarding your accounting information and we know you received them. Why haven't you payed them, Mr. Potter?"

"It's not a lie!" Harry said defensively. "I-I swear, I haven't received any letters about anything! The only letter I ever received was the one from school!"

The goblin looked insulted and barked out something Harry couldn't understand. Another goblin made his way over and they started a conversation briefly before turning their attention back to them.

When Harry looked up at Daphne's father, he found the man frowning and holding his chin in his hand. Daphne gave Harry an unreadable look before the goblin addressed him once again.

"We have a room set up for you, Mr. Potter." He then gestured to the other two. "Who might these two individuals be?"

"My financial advisors I hired," Harry lied without missing a beat. He felt Daphne give him a glance and Cyrus shifted slightly, but neither of them claimed otherwise.

The goblin - Ripgnaw, Harry saw his name being - motioned for the three of them to go forward, changing his line status from 'open' to 'closed'. "Follow me then, Mr. Potter."

They were led through the booths and into a hallway that housed a bunch of private rooms. It was just as elegant as the main room, with gold trim with mahogany-esque walls being a common theme.

"In here." He gestured to a room at the end of the hall and three filtered in, hearing the door close immediately behind them.

"Mr. Potter," A goblin said in greeting. It stood and bowed, to which Harry returned the favor. "Director Ragnok, at your service. Now, besides what Ripgnaw told me about not getting any of our letters, what can I help you with today?"

Harry couldn't help but feel the differences between the two goblins; Ripgnaw had a 'straight-to-the-point' attitude and was rather brash in his diction, but Ragnok was the complete opposite. Though impossible to hide the snide-esque way goblins talked, he found Ragnok polite, professional, and, dare he say, pleasant.

"Uh," Harry started, before Daphne cut him off.

"Mr. Potter would like to learn of his heritage and lineage. That can wait, though, until we settle the problem of the debts he has no knowledge of."

The goblin raised it's...eyebrow?, and nodded. "Very wise. Mr. Potter, would you object to getting a small dose of Veritaserum to attest to your claims? I assure you, the questions will not stray away from the business at hand."

Harry glanced at the two Greengrasses before nodding his head. "Sure."

Ragnok offered Harry a small vial. It was a light blue liquid that almost appeared as if it were glowing. He uncorked it and downed it in one gulp.

"Mr. Potter, do you recall ever opening or receiving mail from Gringotts or any other official ministry branch?"

"No, sir."

The Goblin looked alarmed, but pressed on. "Can you name any documents you have received in your lifetime?"

"I got the letter for my acceptance into Hogwarts when I was eleven, and the others were mail from various people I can't think at the top of my head."

"So you can attest, with confidence, that you never received anything from Gringotts, or know of anyone handling it?"

"Yes sir, I never received anything from Gringotts, and have no idea who would handle it."

"Very well." Ragnok handed Harry the antidote to which was downed immediately. "It seems like we have an issue, then, Mr. Potter."

"Please, call me Harry," Harry said warily.

"Harry, then." The goblin smiled, or as close to a smile as it could (which looked like a hellish grin, but Harry would never say that). "It appears that your magical guardian has been handling your mail for you without your permission or knowledge. That is very serious. Do you know who that person may be?"

"That's why we're here today, sir," Daphne replied for him. "We would like to know who his magical guardian is, as well as his family lineage."

"So you've said," the goblin replied cooly. "Mr - Harry, hover your hand over the wooden bowl on my desk and slice your palm, face down."

Harry walked forward and studied the bowl with unease. It was wooden, much like everything else in the room. A knife, straight and silver, sat neatly in the middle of the bowl. With a tentative hand, Harry picked up the knife and did as instructed; he felt no pain as he sliced his palm and brought it face down, and he couldn't help but wonder why that was.

Was there some sort of spell on the knife that made it painless? A combination of runes, maybe? He even pondered goblin magic..

He watched the bowl fill halfway with his crimson blood, and when there was enough liquid inside, the wound on his palm healed with a sizzle.

Harry stepped back and allowed Ragnok to take the bowl. "I will be right back with your results," was all he said, and stepped into a side room.

"So. Financial advisors, huh?" Cyrus looked down and grinned sneakily at the boy. He saw Daphne giving him a similar look.

"First thing that came to mind, sorry," he replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Very Slytherin of you, Potter," Daphne said. "Very convincing, too."

Harry shrugged, and was going to say more, but stopped when he saw the door that Ragnok stepped through open. He reappeared with a stack of paper. Looking at the paper made Harry want to groan.

"It seems we have a lot to cover, Harry," the goblin said, dropping the paper on his desk with a loud 'thud'. "The first page shows a synopsis of what everything underneath it will detail. I'm sure your advisors will go through that with you."

Harry didn't even see the goblin leave; he just stared at the paper in his hand.

Harry James Potter

Son of:

Lily J Potter, nee Evans

And

James Potter

Muggle Guardians: The Dursley Family (approved by Magical Guardian)

Magical Guardian: Albus Dumbledore (approved by N/A)

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Hair colour: Jet-black

Eye colour: Bright Green

Blood status: Half-blood

Affiliated with: House of Potter, House of Black, House of Peverell, House of Slytherin

Estimated Wealth:

50,000,000 galleons in Potter Vault

10,000,000 galleons in Black Vault

House of Peverell - N/A

House of Slytherin - N/A

Wealth in heirlooms (total): Priceless

He handed the paper to Daphne, first, who read the paper with her jaw dropped (which honestly made Harry feel a little nervous, considering her perfect track record for keeping her expression as cold as ice) before passing it to her father, who mimicked her expression.

"Merlin," Cyrus muttered, and looked up to stare Harry right in the eyes. His expression was fierce, and Harry found himself flinching away from the look out of reflex. "Did you know any of this, Harry?"

"No, sir," Harry said quietly.

Cyrus ran a hand over his face and sighed. His tone was soft, gentle, and noticed the frightened look Harry was throwing his way. "This… is good news, Harry. It's not a bad thing by any means, I promise."

"Mr. Potter," Ragnok came back in, and handed Harry a small, rectangular box. The craftsmanship was beautiful; intricate designs swirled on the surface of the wood, and Harry thought it the definition of elegant. "Please open this and put them on. I would like to see for myself."

Cyrus immediately knew what they were, judging by his shift in posture, but Harry and Daphne shared a look before the former opened the box with tentative hands.

Harry was hit with a wave of… something. The only thing he could compare it to was like a large gust of wind suddenly flew out and hit him square in the face, and he had to flinch from the sensation.

Inside the box, he now finally realized, were two rings, each held in place by small metal compartments.

Harry picked up the first ring and admired it in front of his face. It was red, dark red, with the same insignia as one of the wax stamps on the envelope. It was a shield, checkered silver and red, with two swords criss-crossing behind it.

What took Harry's breath away, though, was the fact that he felt it pulsating. He could feel it trying, desperately, like tendrils, to find a source to feed off of, and the longing to put it on his finger grew too much to bear, because a second later, he slid the thin piece of metal on his right-hand ring finger.

The sensation he felt was unlike anything he'd ever experience.

Magic filled him, hot yet inviting, down to his very being, swirling around every surface and filling every gap. His body, he realized when he looked down at himself, was glowing in time with the pulsating he felt, and before he knew what happened, the glow evaporated.

But the warm feeling never went away.

Daphne looked like she wanted to ask about what the hell just happened, but Cyrus pointed to the other ring. "The other one, if you will, Harry."

Harry frowned but turned to the next ring, which was identical in shape, but completely different in every other aspect. It was silver that held a teal tint, and adorned the shape of a simple triangle. The lines of the triangle were protruding outwards just a little, and were gold in color.

Harry traced the triangle with a longing expression before tentatively slipping it on his middle finger on his right hand.

The sensation was completely different than the other; it was pulsating, again, but instead of feeling warm, it was cold, ice cold, like a mint. The only way he could describe was the feeling of menthol from a cigarette, like smokey ice washing through his body.

Instead of cringing away from it, like his instincts told him to, he let it wash over him completely.

It ran like a river, constantly flowing, but could never decide on a route to flow, it was always changing, moving, bending-

His body glowed for a moment while familiar magic flowed through him, exactly like a smoky menthol river cascading fiercely down his body.

Again, the glow went away, but the cool, tingly feeling stayed with him.

"Holy shit," Cyrus breathed.

Harry shook his head, unable to trust his own voice at the moment. "W-what does it mean, sir?"

Ragnok spoke up this time, watching with an understanding smile. "The first ring is the Potter family ring, which signifies Lordship within the House of Potter."

"And the other ring?" Daphne said quietly, still sporting the same confused look that Harry was sure he was wearing.

"The Peverell family ring, signifying Lordship within the House of Peverell."

He wasn't ignorant; judging from the paled, shocked expression of the two Greengrass family, he figured that they were a big or wealthy family, but he definitely never heard of them before.

But before he could even ask his question, Cyrus ran another hand through his hair and breathed loudly. "I'm… not even going to ask if this is genuine because I already know the answer."

He spoke in a tone that Harry couldn't quite understand; bewilderment? Disbelief?

The goblin answered without missing a beat. "Indeed, Mr. Greengrass."

"Excuse me, but… what does all of this mean?" he finally asked, and felt like an idiot when the two Greengrass's turned to him like he was an imbecile.

"It means, Harry," Cyrus said, finally turning to face the small boy who cringed at the calm and gentle nature that didn't go unnoticed by the Greengrass heir, "you are a Lord for the House of Potter, and the House of Peverell, the latter of which is considered one of the most... influential families to ever walk the wizarding world."

"Pardon my ignorance, sir, but… what does that mean?"

"It means, Potter," Daphne answered for him, "that you're officially a political nightmare."

The older Greengrass chuckled. "That's an understatement." He turned to Harry, then. "We can talk about this later, if you like, Harry. Maybe have you over for dinner, if you're up for it?"

Harry felt his mouth incredibly dry at that moment, and only nodded. "Good," Cyrus said simply. "Director Ragnok, I believe Harry was saying something about never reading the wills his parents left him? Do you think you can read it for him? I'm sure the boy would appreciate it."

"That might be difficult to do, Mr. Greengrass," the goblin replied. "Harry's magical guardian - Albus Dumbledore, as you can clearly see - has the only copy of the will and refused to allow us to make copies for documentation."

"That's illegal!" Daphne half shouted. She was surprised when the goblin readily agreed.

"Indeed it is, but there was not much that we could do. As you humans say, he had our hands tied."

Harry didn't miss the subliminal message: we were forced into cooperating.

The amount of rage Harry felt was palpable; fingers curled into fists that shook with the amount of force closing them together. His knuckles were white, which contrasted with the redness his face was expressing. What kind of… monster withheld a will from a boy who already had nothing?

Daphne, thankfully, caught on to his anger, and quickly sought retribution. "What can we do to demand justice, then, Director?"

"Nothing," Harry snapped quickly. At their curious looks, Harry added a quick, "yet." Harry flared his nostrils and breathed, slow and steady, before explaining himself. "If Dumbledore is behind every decision behind my life, I don't want him knowing that we know, as much as I want him to rot in Azkaban. He technically has my will hostage… there must be something there he doesn't want me to see, right? Otherwise, what's the point of hiding it?"

Cyrus raised his eyebrow and Daphne continued from where he left off, seeming to catch his drift. "So what you're suggesting is following his little game, then, until we get what we want? Which is what, exactly?"

"Knowledge," Harry said simply. "We need to figure out why he dictated my life like that…" He trailed off, and Daphne immediately noticed the far-away look in his emerald eyes. Suddenly, theories popped into his head that accompanied painful flashbacks he had desperately tried to keep at bay.

It all centered around one thing: Voldemort.

"You have an idea." It wasn't a question.

Harry visibly gulped and nodded mutely. His features were taught, tense, and Daphne continued to bombard him with another question. "Was it about what happened to you, at the third task?"

Another nod.

This time, it was Daphne who had run a hand through her hair. "I know it's hard to talk about, Pot- Harry," she said, her tone soft, "...but do you think you can explain enough to let us know what you're thinking?"

Immediately Harry took on a frightened look. "I-I don't know." Cyrus, sensing the topic going to something emotional to the boy, interfered with a raise of his hand.

"You don't have to tell her anything, Harry," He said, shooting his daughter glare.

"No," Harry said quickly, shaking himself out of his stupor. "I-I think I need to get it off my chest… to someone other than the Headmaster." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "At least to Daphne and her friends… they've helped me out so far, maybe they can help me put some pieces together… I just don't want to drag them into-"

"Potter," Daphne emphasized his name, "We dragged ourselves into.. Whatever this is. We can figure this out. I think it would do you some good, talking to someone." She took on a thoughtful look. "Zabini, I know, will be able to help more than I can."

"I still don't know why you lot care," Harry said, but there wasn't an ounce of hostility in his voice, only something akin to disbelief.

Daphne shrugged herself. "We all agreed something's going on here, Potter, and you're in the middle of it. Knowledge is power." At his dumbfounded expression, she smirked and added, like an afterthought, "figured you need people to talk to. From what we gather, you had a pretty shitty childhood."

"Shitty doesn't cover it," he replied instantly, and immediately regretted his comment if Cyrus's inquiring (and pitiful, Harry grimaced) look was anything to go by.

"Why don't we invite Blaise and Tracey to dinner, then?" Cyrus finally threw in at the curious looks of the teen's. "We'll have Catty cook up something at the manor and you lot can talk in private. Whatever is going on, it's best to keep it to ourselves, away from outside ears."

Daphne nodded in agreement, and Harry shrugged half-heartedly. "It's settled then." The adult turned his attention to the eavesdropping goblin. "Director Ragnok, thank you for all your help. You've been wonderful."

Ragnok waved off the compliment before turning to Harry. "What do you want to do about your expenses? Now that you're a Lord in two houses, you must take the financial burden that it entails."

Had circumstances been different, Daphne and her father would have laughed at the fish-like look Harry was giving the goblin. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to formulate a response. "Eloquent as ever, Potter," she laughed.

Harry shot her an embarrassed glare. "Uh, I don't know… are there goblins here that can help me manage that, Director?"

Ragnok blinked at this. "You… want goblins in charge of your money?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know what I'm doing. I figured… since you own the bank and work with money all the time… who would be better? I can pay you, you've seen my vault..."

Cyrus watched with a gob-smacked expression and just let the events play out. He wished he had some popcorn.

The silence was deafening, and Harry had feared he said the wrong thing. He was about to apologize before Ragnok finally spoke, his tone amused. "I think that can be arranged. Mr. Greengrass is your financial advisor, correct? I shall owl him in a few days with a proposition, then."

Harry glanced at Cyrus with a worried look. His mind was eased at the bemused expression the man was throwing his way, and Harry nodded an affirm. "Perfect," he had said.

After a few parting words to their director and Ripgnaw, the three found themselves walking toward the Leaky Cauldron. Harry's legs were moving themselves, robotic motions propelling him forward as his mind was a million miles elsewhere.

He knew if there was any hope of moving forward and learning more about… whatever it was that was happening to him, he had to open up and tell them everything.

Haunted images in the back of his mind threatened to come forward and dominate his thoughts but he pushed them away. It wasn't enough that he told Dumbledore (he thought of the Headmaster's name with absolute venom) and the other champions what had happened. Those were people he were sure he would never see again.

What made his heart shrink and hands clammy were that he had to share his story with someone - anyone his own age. Someone who could relate to him on an emotional level that could help stop these thoughts, these depressing scenes and words that floated around with the threat of never leaving.

He knew it all had to happen. But it scared him more than anything. To be judged. To be pity'd.

Worst of all, they were supposedly people who associated with people who wanted him dead the most: Slytherin's.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked himself back to the present and looked at the origin of the voice. Cyrus was looking down at him with a frown. "Just say 'Greengrass Manor'."

Harry took his place in the floo stall and pinched a bit of dust between his fingers. He couldn't help but admire the rings in his peripheral vision.

"Greengrass Manor," he said loudly, and threw the powder to the floor.

The world shifted yet again, and he felt like his whole body was being constricted with the air being forced away from his lungs. As quickly as the feeling came, though, he found himself falling forward. He landed on the carpeted floor with a hard thud.

"Graceful and eloquent," Daphne smirked, but Harry ignored her. He knew she was teasing, but he couldn't help but be bitter at her remark.

Cyrus came through a second later. "We're home!" He yelled loudly, and after a couple seconds of no response, Harry heard the sound of hurrying footsteps.

A small girl, roughly a few years younger than Daphne, barrelled into the room. She quickly ran into Daphne and the Slytherin returned her affection and a warm hug.

Harry noticed there were no longer icicles in her eyes.

"Tori!" She exclaimed and laughed at the younger girl tried to spin her sister around in the hug.

"What took you guys so long?" She asked immediately, and widened her eyes once she caught sight of Harry.

Being the social butterfly he was born to be, the boy sent her an awkward wave. "Hello."

Daphne snorted and gestured to Harry. "Potter, meet my sister, Astoria. Astoria, meet-"

"I know who Harry Potter is, Daph," Tori replied finally, rolling her eyes. "I only have like, a million books that mention him."

Harry blinked at this, but chose not to inquire about it. Truth be told, he didn't really want to know.

"So, why is he here then? Are you to dating?" The way she asked, it sounded like there were sparkles in her eyes while she glanced at the two of them dreamily.

Daphne snorted while Harry flushed red. "As if."

"But look, he's blushing! They're totally-"

"Quit torturing your sister, Astoria." A woman came into the living room, this time. She resembled Daphne in almost every way; her cheekbones were high, signifying her pureblood heritage, and everything about her screamed perfection. The only different he could notice was the difference in hair color, which was dark brown, but Daphne probably got that from her father. "Pleasure to meet you, Harry. Abigail Greengrass. I hope you're doing well?"

"Likewise," He replied. "And I'm fine, thanks."

"Daph, go ahead and floo your friends. See if they can come over for dinner tonight." Cyrus came from behind and clasped Harry on his shoulder. He turned to the younger daughter. "Tori, go to your room and finish cleaning. I know you're not even close to being done, young lady."

As if on queue, Astoria groaned loudly and stomped her way out of the room. Harry heard her muttering 'unfair', 'stupid room,' and 'Harry Potter' under her breath, and he smiled thankfully at the comical relief that eased the butterflies dancing around in his stomach.

Cyrus, with his hand still on Harry's shoulder, gestured Harry to the next room. Harry obliged, and gaped at what he saw.

"You call this a house?" He heard himself mutter, and craned his neck to take in all the sights he could. "More like a bloody mansion…"

The room was a cross between a family sitting room and a lounge. The living room that they came from, he realized, was built pretty much for the floo network alone. This room housed several couches and loveseats, each built with a leather exterior that was cool and comfortable to the touch. As like the other room, the walls were painted a dark green that felt homey to Harry, and eased his senses to relax into the couch he found himself sitting on. The ceiling was white, nothing special, but where the ceiling met the wall house a intricate molding that added to the sophistication.

Abigail laughed. It was light and chorused different tones, something that Harry honestly enjoyed hearing. "Thank you, Harry, we'll take that as a compliment." She sat on a loveseat across from Harry, separated only by a dark wooden table with different decorative pieces sitting on top of it.

Cyrus took a spot next to his wife, drink in hand. Harry noticed Abigail look at the drink warily and giving her husband a curious glance. "Drinking already?" She said loftily, though he knew the hardness in her eyes were real.

"After today, I need it," He replied easily, following up with a sip. "And Harry too, I'd imagine."

This got Abigails attention, and she looked at the young boy curiously. "Might I ask what happened with you three today?"

Cyrus ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, Daphne came up to me when she got off the train and asked if she could accompany a friend to Gringotts." He gestured to Harry. "Of course I offered to accompany them. She mentioned he wanted to look up his family history, and once I found out it was Mr. Potter, I figured it made sense. His family has a very long history, after all.

"Well, we learned some interesting tidbits about Harry's family and his heritage. We didn't go too deep into it, but that could be done at a later date." And he continued on with the tale of what exactly happened, and Harry was thrilled that he left out some important details (like Dumbledore illegally controlling his life the way he did, and the fact he was Lord of an ancient house he had never heard of).

"And here's where I wanted to talk to you, Harry, about the status of Lordship."

Harry straightened at this, and gave Cyrus his full attention. Daphne made her way in at this point, and sat at the end of the couch Harry was on.

"The fact that you're a Lord of two houses," he didn't explain to his wife which ones, which Harry was grateful for, "means you're legally emancipated, and no longer require a guardian, whether it be muggle or magical."

The mask Harry found himself wearing slipped back on, much to the curious gaze of Daphne, and he swallowed. "Does that mean.. I don't have to live with the Dursley's anymore?" He couldn't control it, but his muggle family's name came out like a bad taste in his mouth.

If anyone noticed, nobody commented, because Cyrus just nodded. "And… my magical guardian can no longer… aid me in my life?" Both Daphne and Cyrus scowled at this, and Cyrus nodded his head again.

Harry leaned back on the couch and let out a shaky breath of air he didn't realize he was holding, and ran a hand through the mop he called hair. "Good. Good. What else does being a… Lord entail?"

"Well, since you are Lord of two houses, both with seats on the Wizenmagot, you get to pick up your policial duties when you become of age at seventeen," Daphne answered.

Harry scrunched his nose at that. "Ugh. Politicking."

Daphne gave a snort, but was drowned out by the whoosh of flames in the next room. "Daphne?" He heard Blaise call.

"In here!" She called, still sat with her legs tucked underneath her.

Blaise came in and smiled at everyone in the room, with his eyes lingering a little longer on Harry. He turned to the adults and offered them a bottle of wine (of what kind, Harry couldn't tell from where he was sitting) and took a seat on a chair directly next to Harry.

"We're just waiting for Tracey, at this point," Daphne offered, and Blaise chuckled.

"Not that that's anything new," he replied dryly, and the room laughed politely, Harry included.

Another whoosh sounded from the next room that confirmed the arrival of Davis. She called out, much in the same manner as Blaise did, and Daphne responded in kind. The adults in the room stood and, after everyone greeted Tracey, motioned for the rest of them to accompany them in the dining room.

Harry, once again, couldn't help but marvel at the detail in each room. It was like every room held a different story and theme, something that he found enthralling (considering he was used to staying at run-down houses) and spoke volumes at the amount of work that probably went into building it.

"Astoria!" Harry heard Cyrus call from in front of him, and heard the familiar sound of running footsteps as they bounded down the stairs and in their company.

She blinked and wrinkled her nose when she noticed the amount of people in the room. "What's everyone doing here?"

"Eating," Daphne replied instantly, patting her sister's head and sitting down at the table. Astoria sat next to her, and Harry pulled a seat of his own.

He sat on the other side of the table, with Blaise on one side and the end of the table on the other. Abigail and Cyrus sat at each end of the table, respectively, and Tracey found a spot next to Astoria.

"Catty!" Cyrus called, and in the next instant there was a plethora of food on the table. Harry couldn't help but grin at the sight; it was exactly like how Hogwarts feaster their meals, and for a moment he wondered if it were elves that prepared everything. It wouldn't surprise him, anyway.

Small talk started almost instantly, with the adults asking everyone how their year went. Daphne went first, obviously, talking about her grades which earned her proud smiles of her parents.

Tracey went on about the amount of projects she needed to have accomplished for Muggle Studies, which took up most of her time. Cyrus looked interested - or at least acted - and congratulated her on a job well done.

Blaise was… well, as talkative as he usually was. He gave a few generic details about his year and left it at that, much to the amusement of the rest of the table.

"How about you, Harry?" Abigail asked, and the three young Slytherin's noticed the way he cooled his expression and left it blank, his eyes void of life.

"Yah! 'E 'eard you 'er in da ter'ment!" Astoria practically shouted between mouthfuls of what looked to be mashed potatoes.

He noticed Tracey stiffen at the declaration, while Daphne and Blaise both watched with wary eyes.

All he could do was nod and flash a smile, but they all knew there was no mirth to it. But she didn't know that. "Yeah, I was," was all he said.

"And you flew against a dragon!" She replied when she gulped down the food in her mouth, which earned her a reprimand from Abigail and a frown from her father.

He wanted nothing more to stop this conversation, to excuse himself from the table and just leave, but he knew Astoria didn't mean anything by it. She was a child, and she was curious and blurting out the first thing that came to her mind. Harry let out a laugh, but it was short and lacked enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah I did."

"Were you scared?"

He smiled at her innocent question, and before Cyrus could interrupt with the scolding that was hanging on his lips, Harry smiled genuinely and gave his honest answer: "Absolutely terrified."

Astoria giggled and returned to her place, and Harry inwardly sighed in relief. He knew there were pairs of eyes on him, watching him, but he paid them no heed.

Small talk continued for the remainder of the meal, and before he knew it, Daphne practically shoved them all back into the living area where they originated from and they all took a seat. Her parents went upstairs for the remainder of the evening, and Astoria went back up to her room to clean.

"So Potter," Blaise started in his usual drawl, leaning back in the chair he sat in when he arrived. Harry made himself comfortable on the same couch he sat in before, with Daphne and Tracy both on the loveseat. "What was so important that Daph, here, dragged us to her house for dinner?"

"Mansion, you mean," Harry muttered to himself and leaned forward. "Well, we learned… a lot, today, at Gringotts. More questions than answers. And I think, if I have a shot at understanding my life at all, I might as well let you all in to see if we can't answer some of them."

Tracey and Blaise both stared at him, somewhat shocked, and he continued. "I don't know what you all gain from knowing… anything about me, really, but you've been nothing but help to me so far so I figured…" He trailed off.

Zabini nodded and leaned back, his attention fully on Potter. "Go ahead, then."

Harry sighed and leaned with his elbows on his knees and let out a quivering breath. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning is usually the best place," Daphne added in, getting comfortable herself.

"The beginning… don't say I didn't warn you," Harry sighed, roughly ruffling his hair before looking back up and forward.

His mask was on.

And he started with the beginning. He decided it would be best to explain what he saw and heard when a dementor came into proximity of him; how he heard his parents dying, his mother crying, pleading with shrieks to take her and let her baby live. Of the blinding green light of the Killing Curse that still haunted him in his dreams.

He didn't bother looking for their expressions; he didn't want pity. He didn't need it.

What he needed, was understanding.

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, Harry pressed on to his childhood. How he was thrown into a broom closet since he arrived and the conditions he found himself in. The beatings whenever he did something incorrect or looked at them a certain way. The compartment that they opened to feed him with the scraps of leftover food. The clothes he continued to get as his whale of a cousin outgrew them. The lack of hygiene he was forced to live under.

Harry's voice was breaking with each sentence, his mask slowly cracking off his face like it were made of porcelain. He didn't stop, though; he recalled the accidental bouts of magic he did, like talking to the snake at the zoo or blowing up his aunt. He told them how seeing Hagrid was one of the best gifts he could have given, just to leave that household for each term.

And the beatings never stopped, they only progressively got worse. He recalled an incident when he was hospitalized for a month because he mentioned magic while cooking dinner one night. Cracked ribs where he was kicked, broken nose from the contact of his head on the kitchen counter.

Despite the tears in the hollow emeralds he called eyes, Harry felt lighter, like a weight being lifted.

And so he continued to his first year, describing every event to the best of his abilities, right down to the confrontation with Quirrell and the entity that was Voldemort, at the time. The trio listened with open mouths, and collectively knew Harry was down-playing his part in it, but remained silent.

His story continued during the summer, where the beatings happened again, but he didn't get into any more detail than that.

The second year started and he recalled anything that could be deemed important. He reminisced how he searched and searched when students continued to end up petrified in stone. How he came across Moaning Myrtle in the girls bathroom on the second floor and how she was the one who basically told him what was happening.

He recalled the Chamber of Secrets and how he went about to go down there. The giant basilisk fight was tough to remember because of the amount of adrenaline he was experiencing, but he told them everything, including Tom Riddle's diary. He remembered the shrieking he heard in his head - or was it out loud? He couldn't remember - when the basilisk fang pierced through the leather and parchment. Fawkes, besides delivering Harry the Sword of Gryffindor, cried into the hole the snake fang pierced through him (he showed them the quarter-sized scar, white with new skin and tissue) which ended up saving his life.

The summer was much of the same, so he didn't dwell on it too much.

The next year was more of a happy time, which was a breath of fresh air. Harry explained how Sirius Black was his Godfather, and how he was wrongfully accused of the crime he was sentenced to Azkaban for.

The story of Peter Pettigrew was told with malice. He told them that his father, along with Sirius and Remus, were known as 'The Marauders', which explained where his invisibility cloak came from.

Dementors were a common topic. From Dudley to the 'army', he explained that was the year he learned the Patronus charm. He couldn't recall how many he faced that year, but he stressed there were a lot, and he had blacked out more often than not because of them.

And finally, he explained the Tournament. They knew basically everything covering the first two tasks, so he jumped right to the third, and even then he was hesitant to explain everything.

Harry let out a big sigh, rubbed his face with both hands, and continued onward.

It was much of the same as he had told Dumbledore and the other competitors. He didn't stray away from what he remembered, and pushed back the flashbacks of the crack of the whip, or the red light filling his vision thanks to the Unforgivable Curse.

They sat in silence after that, and Harry dreaded glancing at them to gauge their expressions. He decided to look at Zabini, considering he didn't want the sniffling girls to see his watery eyes and he sure as hell didn't want to see theirs.

He was pale, cheeks white in contrast to his dark skin. "Merlin, Potter," he said in a weak voice. "That's… that's all true, isn't it?"

Harry wordlessly nodded and leaned back on the couch. As painful as it was explaining his life, he felt a load lighter. He was worried the three Slytherins would get up and leave and never return (and he honestly expected it) but in his mind, it was worth it.

His gaze ran toward the girls, who were still huddled on the loveseat, each wearing an expression he couldn't really describe. Daphne, whose face was normally unreadable, showed a considerable amount of shock that accompanied her very wet eyes. Tracy was frowning, but other than that, their expression weren't much different.

"And, to summarize what we learned about me today, thanks to Daphne and her dad, that Dumbledore was my magical guardian after all, I'm the Lord of house Potter and house Peverell, and Dumbledore stole my parent's will."

"And he's loaded," Daphne piped in, halfheartedly.

"And that. Look at me, getting the girls already," he said at a poor attempt at a joke.

Zabini snorted, but said nothing. His mind was reeling with this information and he stood up, finally, getting the attention of the group. "I think we need a bit of time to process this, Potter," he said finally, which made Harry cringe.

Here's when they run, Harry thought with a frown, and Blaise put a hand on his shoulder in a comforting manner, as if reading his thoughts. "Mind if we come back tomorrow? It's pretty late and I need to sleep on this…"

Harry didn't realize his question was directed at Daphne, who merely nodded. "Should be fine…"

Tracey piped up and agreed with Blaise. "Tomorrow for lunch, then?" She offered, wiping her face with her sleeve. Harry shrugged, and they came to an agreement to meet at Daphne's for lunch the following day.

Harry stood as well, and headed for the floo network after Blaise and Tracey already took their leave. "Where are you going?" Daphne said, her voice loud against the silence they were used to.

"I-uh, since I don't have to back to the Dursleys, I figured I would rent out a room at the Leak-"

"Absolutely not," Cyrus said in the background, right as Daphne was opening her mouth with a scowl on her face and fire burning irritably in her eyes. "We heard everyone leave and we're not about to let you rent a room anywhere."

Harry tried to protest, but he was cut off by a rather forceful Cyrus. "We have plenty of rooms in this house" (mansion, Harry thought again) "that you can stay in for the time being. Daphne can show you to a spare bedroom that already has your belongings. Are we clear?"

Harry put forth a scowl of his own and nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir."

"And drop the sir, Cyrus will do just fine," he replied in kind, and smiled at the pair of them before walking up the stairs with Daphne and Harry in tow.

Cyrus, after a trek down a hallway that had what looked to be dozens of doors to rooms on each side, branched off after wishing the two of them a good night. They responded in kind and continued walking until Daphne stopped outside a door near the end of the hallway. "Here's the spare bedroom," she said quietly, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away. "I'm across the hall in case you need anything. I don't need to remind you to knock first, right?"

Harry blew air from his nose in a silent laugh. "No, you don't, promise." He opened the door and stepped inside.

"Harry?" She called out, clutching the door frame of her own room. Emerald met blue, and they stared each other down before she said, softly, "we'll talk tomorrow, and… figure all this out."

He could only offer her a sincere smile and nodded, not missing her use of his first name for the first time. "Thanks, Daphne," he said. "Goodnight."

"Night, Potter," she said in return, and closed their respective doors. Back to Potter. That was more like it.