Chapter 2

Blending into the wizarding world was surprisingly easy.

As much as he hated the loudness and bustling bar, it was filled with helpful people who were very information and ever so happy to share information with him.

It was disgraceful that they were already drunk in the morning, but drunks made for good information, so it wasn't like Harry was complaining.

Even if he did want to do terrible things to them at daring to put their hands on his body. He never realized how annoying people's habits of reaching over to pat someone was.

Harry expected better from fully-grown adults who had supposedly been accustomed to magic, but it was almost as if they were wilfully blind.

He had an even easier time smiling and charming his way through the supposed adults of the wizarding world.

Whenever someone asked why he was wandering alone, a little smile and wide eyes was enough to make them melt.

It was laughably easy.

He didn't do anything except mingle around and make friends, but he already gained so much 'common sense' to these witches and wizards. He felt like he could act properly now, and it was probably time to move on.

Facing the sad goodbyes and calls of well-wishes from the various 'friends' he made in the bar, Harry waved goodbye at them, smiling.

Heading to Gringotts, Harry nodded politely at the goblins that he saw. He wasn't so blind as to miss the flash of surprise in their eyes.

He could use this.

The place dripped in so much opulence that Harry secretly wondered if it was a very direct 'fuck you' to the magical world. If it wasn't, then they were definitely compensating for something.

Yet, this place still remained the most trusted bank in the wizarding world.

Harry already noticed that the witches and wizards that he met were not the smartest, but it was beyond stupid if they couldn't see what the goblins were doing when even an eleven-year-old was able to.

He took the time in line to take in the atmosphere as well as the mannerisms of the various wizards and witches that frequented the place.

Those that carried themselves differently were the ones that he wanted.

The purebloods.

Smirking, Harry slid himself behind a man with long, platinum blond hair. As he spoke with the teller, the young wizard noted his mannerisms and gestures.

While he wouldn't be using it here, it was useful to learn.

There was another thing that he realized. Every witch and wizard seemed to have their own kind of magic.

There were those that gave off faint lights, as well as those that looked relatively darker.

He couldn't make an accurate analysis with the limited information he had right now, but the man in front of him had a much darker colour to his pretty magic than anyone he's seen so far.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Harry reached out with a little bit of his magic, stroking the man's.

He didn't know why he did that, exactly, just that his magic told him to do so.

The moment Harry's magic came into contact with the wizards, the dark sheen that was the other man's magic shuddered visibly.

Lucius Malfoy was in the middle of his discussion with the goblin when a wave of pleasure crashed over him. It felt like something had stroked his magic, and the deliciously and dangerously dark feeling almost made him gasp out loud.

The pureblood managed to keep himself from doing anything untoward, his fingers falling to grip the desk. His knuckles were white, and his body trembled just the faintest amount.

The blond inwardly thanked every etiquette lesson that his father had made him go through.

He would have been rendered a fool had he not had such tight control over his mask.

More than that, what just happened?

Whose magic had that been?

Lucius turned around to look, but there was hardly anyone prominent in the room.

A bunch of Light wizards, mudbloods and a small child that looked about his son's age. Hardly anyone who could have produced such a reaction in him.

He almost thought that his lord had returned, but the feeling that magic gave him was that much more intense, that much darker.

It called out to him and made his blood sing.

Defeated, Lucius turned back to the goblin who was trying to hide its affront at being ignored. Lucius sneered, continuing to talk.

Harry, who had joined another line, smirked quietly to himself when he saw the extreme reaction that he managed to produce in the man.

For a supposed pureblood like that man, being able to make his mask almost crack and shatter into proverbial pieces felt entirely too sweet.

It made him interested, and it made him want to keep provoking him, but he held back. Now was not the time.

He didn't know how much power he had in this place yet, so the man was luckily spared. For now.

By the time Harry finally got to speak with a goblin, the blond man from earlier was long gone. It was just as well. Having something that he could tease but not currently touch made Harry a little testy.

However, he didn't feel the urge to touch anyone else's magic. Just that really dark one. He wondered if that said anything about him. He'd have to research it later.

"Key?" the goblin asked emotionlessly.

"Hello," Harry greeted as politely as he could. He made sure not to inject any weak emotions into his voice like he would have for the wizarding population. "I don't have a key."

The goblin finally stopped writing, looking at him with beady eyes. His face looked distinctly unfriendlier at his admission.

Harry reached up to casually brush his hair, revealing the scar on his forehead before it dropped back down.

The goblin's eyes widened minutely.

"Three drops. Fourth finger, left hand," the goblin instructed, handing over a very pointy gold knife.

Harry did so, dripping it over the parchment, even as a territorial part of him snarled at having to give something from his body to someone else.

The goblin snatched the parchment from him the moment he did so, and Harry had to repeatedly tell himself not to get impulsive.

"Come this way, Mr. Potter," the goblin whispered.

Harry raised a brow but continued to smile harmlessly as he followed the goblin to an office that appeared to drip just as much opulence as the previous hall.

The goblin first handed over the parchment to Harry to take a look.

Name: Harry James Potter

Mother: Lily Potter née Evans (Deceased)

Father: James Potter (Deceased)

Eligible Heirships:

Peverell

Black

Potter

Gryffindor

Slytherin

Gaunt

The goblin tried to maintain an expressionless face, but Harry could see that he was shocked.

"What can I do to claim lordship?"

The goblin bowed briefly to him, which seemed to be the most it could force itself to do, saying, "You will have to try on the rings. Should the houses not accept you, it will return to the box."

Originally, Griphook would never have suggested as such. Magic would not accept one that had not yet come of age to be a lord of any of the houses, but there was something about this boy that made his hair stand on end.

Harry James Potter seemed to have been blessed by magic itself, and Griphook would not get in the way of magic's desires.

More than that, he was simply interested in what would happen should someone not of age try to claim lordship. Would it just default to heirship? Or not?

He brought over the boxes, handing them respectfully to the eleven-year-old boy.

Harry tried them all one by one, and his lips curled into a satisfied smile when the rings accepted his magic.

His eyes flashed. Judging from the goblin's wide eyes, this was definitely not supposed to happen.

"Very good," Harry purred, and he didn't miss the slight shudder that went through the goblin's body.

Its magic was strangely dark as well. Not as dark as the man with platinum blond hair from before, but he noticed that each teller had rather dark magic compared to the light of the other witches and wizards.

Harry's lips curled into a smirk, deliberately showing a less-than-innocent expression on his previously innocent face.

Griphook shuddered.

"I know you were using me as a little… experiment."

Griphook suddenly dropped to his knees, his every instinct screaming at him to hear and obey. "My apologies! It was not my intention to cause you harm."

"I rather think you did," Harry said casually, playing with the rings that had combined into one on his finger. Running a light finger over it, it disappeared from view.

The goblin's eyes were wide as he looked at the casual use of the ring's functions. He hadn't had time to explain that part yet, but this child… no. This lord had already worked it out.

"Tell me. What should I do with you, hmm?" the smile dropped off Harry's face, and the look in his eyes were so frigid that Griphook started trembling like he'd been dropped into a freezing location with no clothes.

Harry very much enjoyed the flickers of fear, admiration and trembling terror that crossed the goblin's eyes. But he still pulled back a bit. He would need allies in this world.

Griphook's head hit the floor. It would have been unimaginable had it been any other human, but Griphook felt magic's command. He would not disobey.

"I swear to you. I will do whatever you wish of me."

There was a long pause, and Griphook sweated. Why… why did he feel as if this human would be happy to kill him in cold blood should he be able to get away with it?

The longer the silence dragged on, the more terrified Griphook felt.

It was only when the goblin hit the peak of terror that Harry finally replied, having gained enough amusement watching the goblin cower in front of an eleven-year-old boy.

"I accept you vow of loyalty. You know what will happen should you fail to live up to my expectations, right, Griphook?"

Griphook shuddered again. "Yes, my lord."

Harry's lips curled into something slow and satisfied.