Chapter 40: Excalibur!
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Gears grounded as mechanisms worked and the large metal door swung upon to reveal a rather underwhelming amount of gold.
Sure, to an ordinary wizard, it would be worth a lot, but Harry had been led to believe that the Potters were incredibly rich, yet it appeared he had more than this already.
Hell, he was certain that the Aureliuses had quite a few paintings worth more! There also didn't appear to be anything other than money, which was certainly odd for such an old family.
He turned back to the goblin, who had stood by the door. "Where's the rest?"
"This is just a trust vault. The rest can be accessed when the magic recognizes you as of age, bu-" He had no time to say more as Harry cut him off.
"Take me to it." Hopefully Loki being ancient would even out the age.
With but a nod, the goblin led him to the vault next to his own and said it required blood to be opened. Harry didn't hesitate to take his wand out and slash it across his palm, allowing it to cut him.
No pain was felt, Loki already prepared to stop it, and Harry pressed his hand to the door.
The blood flowed over the vertical surface, seemingly washing away a layer and presenting a keyhole which Harry promptly used his key to unlock.
This door made even more protest than the previous, groaning loudly as it slowly opened.
Harry stood, prepared to be awed by the amount of gold - only to see even less than in the previous. Spinning around, he demanded, "What the hell is this?!"
The goblin shrugged. "Your parents and grandparents squandered most of their fortune in the war, spending it on their little vigilante group and donating it to Hogwarts and St. Mungo's."
Clenching his eyes shut, Harry resisted the urge to turn the goblin to a block of ice. It was not the creature's fault. It was the fault of his parents. He shuddered as he thought of what might have happened if they had survived.
He would have went to Hogwarts at eleven with no previous magical tutelage, been a legitimate Gryffindor, head-strong, idiotic, and - worst of all - weak. Perhaps Lord Voldemort wasn't so bad.
With a large breath, he turned back to the vault and walked in, silently praying that his parents hadn't also seen it wise to sell all of the family's books and heirlooms.
Luckily, that didn't seem to be the case, though it was suspiciously devoid of any dark magic.
Harry rapidly learned that one of his ancestors had been a Dumbledore-esque figure to the wizarding world, a fact that he might've known if he had bothered to read any detailed history books.
What the history books did not reveal about "Lord Potter," however, was the massive ego that was displayed in his journal.
In fact, he rather reminded Harry of Loki in multiple ways, one of them being how he semi-frequently accidently slipped into referring to himself in third person as well as bestowing titles upon himself.
On the fifth page alone, he referred to himself as the Lord of the Light, the Destroyer of Demons, and the Saviour of Sorcery. He also seemed to have a thing for alliteration….
Needless to say, Harry took that book along with a few others, both for entertainment and power. Seeing as they had been hidden in a concealed room that most wouldn't have noticed, there could be magic in there not seen for centuries.
There was one other object in the room that immediately caught Harry's attention: a shining silver sword, red gems inlaid in its elaborate hilt.
Upon seeing it, Loki let out a strangled gasp. 'What is it?' Harry demanded.
'I recognize it from a book I read long ago. I think this is the blade crafted by Merlin himself to be wielded by the King Arthur... It is said to give untold power to its wielder, from the ability to control dragons themselves, to opening a portal between realms in the blink of an eye...' Loki's tone was filled with greed and awe.
Harry's eyes widened as he stared upon the fabled Excalibur. 'What? Really?!'
'Of course not, you blithering idiot, Excalibur doesn't exist. Now hurry up, we have things to do.' Harry groaned as Loki broke out into laughter.
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While the sword might not have been Excalibur, it did have some interesting enchantments - enough so that Loki had wanted Harry to take it, for once putting his trust in mortal work.
After a night of study, Harry knew a bit more about the blade, primarily that it was supernaturally sharp and designed to go through wards.
That had been displayed when he had stabbed at the wall in frustration only for it to go straight through Hogwarts' protective enchantments and into the stone.
Seeing as he didn't know how to swordfight, wasn't sure whether or not it would randomly explode, and such weapons probably wouldn't be permitted within a school, he deemed it an unwise decision to bring it to the Weighing of the Wands, no matter how cool it might make him look.
When he arrived at the classroom where the Weighing of the Wands was being held, everyone was already there, despite him being exactly on time.
He supposed they cared about the tournament more than he did, actually having been the ones to enter themselves.
Along with the champions, headmasters, and the Ministry officials he had seen around the castle over the past day, there was another person: a woman dressed in robes a green almost as obnoxious as Dumbledore's clothing.
Behind the oddly dressed woman was a man with an incredibly old-fashioned camera that lit up the room with a tremendous flash every few seconds.
Ignoring the apparent journalist for a few moments, Harry glanced to Ollivander, who was sitting at a table, and nodded.
The Asgardian winked back, before nonchalantly leaning back in his seat as he noticed Dumbledore watching the exchange curiously.
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