Brave New World

A/N: Thank you all again for the great reviews. I\'m glad you\'re enjoying the story.



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Chapter Ten



No.



No. It just wasn’t possible.



Blaise had to be mistaken. There was no way he was the head of; he stopped in the middle of the thought shaking his head in denial. He was sixteen for Merlin’s sake; someone would have mentioned this by now. His friends. Sirius. Remus. Professor Dumbledore. Hell, even Snape wouldn’t have been able to hold a spiteful comment back.



There was only one thought he kept returning to. Why would Blaise lie? Why would he make up such an elaborate lie when it could be so easily confirmed? That simple reason caused a knot of rage and sadness to twist in his chest. How much more would he be expected to endure before it became too much? How many secrets and lies would he be forced to unravel before his life became his own?



Sirus. The idea that his godfather had kept something so important from him was inconceivable. Sirius was the one who would try to tell him what was going on before some adult came along and silenced him, claiming Harry too young to know things. Things that concerned him. Things that affected his life.



Damn it! Everyone’s good intentions would get him killed.



This was betrayal, plain and simple. For anyone to purposely keep information about his family away from him when he had so precious little remaining of his parents was tantamount to betrayal.



He burst into the Gryffindor boys’ dorm, heedless of the noise he was making. As he stalked over to his bed, he tried to think of a way to find out the truth without asking anyone. If he went to Hermione, she would suggest he go right to Dumbledore and the last thing he wanted was to hear the Headmaster say he kept this information from him so that he could have a childhood, or some other such nonsense. Ron’s jealousy was approaching an all time high and given his attitude during fourth year that was saying something. His best friend would not handle Ancient and Noble house of Potter discussions at all.



How could he trust a word from their mouths? How could he trust anyone’s word ever again?



Gringotts, he reasoned, sitting down on his bed. He closed his eyes, wiping hands that trembled with despair down his face. If Gringotts was in charge of the vault his parents opened for him, surely they would be able to tell him more about his family history. It wasn’t about money; he didn’t give a damn about money. It was his history. Knowledge that he had been starved for all of his life and it dropped into his lap tonight by mere chance. What if he hadn’t asked the questions that lead Blaise to make his statement about the Potter ring? Would he gone on forever ignorant?



The Goblins certainly had no reason t lie and if they didn’t have information they would at least be able to confirm if there was an Ancient and Noble House of Potter.



“Why does everything have to happen to me?” he whispered, gripping the tangled strands of his hair and tugging in frustration. How many times would his world be shattered and force him to pull it back together again? “Why can’t things be simple for once?”



When he opened his eyes, they fell upon the green book sitting tucked away in his bookcase. Casting a furtive glance around the room, he quickly snatched it out before spelling his curtains closed and casting a locking and silencing charm. He hadn’t had the opportunity to search for the information on Sirius and the Black family but this was more important.



“Lumos.” Pale light illuminated the darkened area before he leaned back against his headboard with the book sitting in his lap.



“If I do this everything changes,” he said aloud, needing to hear the confirmation of the step he was contemplating taking. He would always be on guard, wondering who was lying to him and who he could truly trust.



Could he cast this knowledge aside and continue on ignorant of his family to keep the people in his life now? Then he felt shame, for how could even consider casting aside his heritage. His family, for Merlin’s sake. Even if he were the only Potter alive, his family still deserved acknowledgement. Hadn’t he sacrificed enough for the Wizarding world?



Decision made, he opened the book to the contents page as Tracey explained in her note, and then tapped his wand once. “Ancient and Noble Houses,” his voice shook on the last word. As the pages began to turn, he drew in a shaky breath. Upon reaching the middle it stopped, pages blank, before words began to bleed onto the page just like in Riddle’s diary.



“Of the original thirteen Ancient and Noble Houses of the United Kingdom’s Wizarding world, there remain only four active Lords, two trustees hold titles until heir is appointed and three heirs apparent. The title for the House of Black is still in question, as there are only two scions in line to succession. The other lines are now extinct.”



There was more information, most of it he barely understood, such as the seats in Wizagamot that Lords were entitled to but unable to claim until their twenty-first birthday. In most cases, a trustee was designated pending the heir reaches majority.



It seemed the houses of Bones and Greengrass were being held in trust and he wondered how that made Susan and Daphne feel. It seemed unfair they couldn’t hold the title simply because they were women. He turned the page and found the listing for the active Lords. It wasn’t exactly a surprise to see Malfoy or Lestrange; he expected to see some of the Death Eaters on the list, as Ancient and Noble was synonymous with pure blood. He was surprised to see Ernie MacMillan, though he did tend to brag about his family. It was the next line that made his heart stop.



“Harrigan James Potter. Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, Scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Roarke, Honorable Peer of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”



None of this was making sense. “Who the hell am I?”





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FSFSFS





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“Good morning Harry. How may I help you today?”



Harry forced himself to take deep breaths remembering the last time he was in this office and how destructive his magic became when he lost control. It wasn’t the image he wanted to portray during this confrontation. Pissed off teenager would get him no where. Dumbledore would look at him, the twinklings in his blue eyes diminished slightly, and still treat him like the eleven year old boy who entered Hogwarts starved and abused and desperate to belong.



No, he had every right to be furious.



Dumbledore had promised not to keep things from him any longer. So, had he simply forgotten? He was an old man but Dumbledore had a mind like a steel trap, that excuse would be pathetic and ignoble.



“Good morning, Professor,” Harry nodded once, resisting the urge to check his appearance again as he had at the gargoyle before entering. It had been difficult to go about his normal morning routine. Yet he forced himself and was grateful for it. The strenuous exercise had taken the edge off his anger, helping to clear his head so he could think rationally. Dressing in the neat uniform and straightening his hair bolstered his confidence. He might not be Dumbledore’s peer but he would demand respect from the man.



“Sir, I found some rather disgruntling information yesterday and I was hoping you might be able to shed light upon the subject.”



“Of course, my boy. If I may be of service.” He smiled genially, folding his hands atop his desk. Happy that Harry had come to him for help as perhaps a gesture of clemency for their current acrimony. “Now what has you so troubled?”



Reaching into his rucksack, Harry removed the slip of folded parchment where he had written down the titles from the Curious Half-Blood book. He placed it on the desk and pushed it toward Dumbledore without saying a word.



Harry could tell when the Headmaster understood why he was here this morning. The wizard’s tells weren’t obvious unless you were searching hard enough for a reaction. Wrinkled fingers clenched briefly upon the parchment. Then a frown formed between his brows with lines bracketing his mouth.



“Where did you get this Harry?”



“I don’t believe it matters where I obtained the information. What matters is whether or not there is any truth to it and if so, why wasn’t I told!”



“Harry.”



“Harrigan,” he spat, his lip curling with growing annoyance. “I believe that is my name, though I always thought it was Harry. Did you know for the first five years of my life, I had no real idea what my name was? Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always called me boy. ‘Boy, pick up that mess.’ Or, ‘Boy, go to your cupboard.’ It wasn’t until I was enrolled in school that I found out the name Harry actually belonged to me and not some other boy they knew.”



“Harry, I know-”



“You know? You know shite, so please don’t insult me that way Professor. If nothing else respect that this is something you don’t know.”



“Of course. I was simply going to say that I understood your life with your mother’s sister was difficult.”



“Because most adults are capable of recognizing the signs of abuse,” Harry pointed out.



“Did they,” Dumbledore paused, probably not knowing if he should continue or if he wanted to know the answer.



“Beat me, you mean?” Harry scoffed. “Other than the occasional swat to the head, or if I really did something to embarrass them, something freakish, and earned my self licks from Vernon’s belt? They could barely stand to be in the same room with me, why would they take the time to beat me? It would be more attention than they felt I deserved.”



“I’m so sorry Harry. I had no idea.



“No, because you stuck me with those people and left me there with no one to check and make sure I had things like food or clothes. Let alone love and affection.”



“It was for your protection. The blood wards would keep any remaining Death Eaters who would do you harm away.”



“And I have accepted that. What I don’t understand is what’s on that paper. Why wouldn’t you tell me something so important?”



“Sit down Harry.”



“I-”



“Please, sit down.” The Headmaster’s voice was stern and brooked no argument.



He wanted to protest, to demand answers, to refuse to follow any command from this man until he explained himself but that would imply he was still behaving as a child. So he yielded the point to Dumbledore and sat in the chair across from him. But he took his time, settling the bag beside the chair, straightening his sweater and pants until he was comfortable.



When he inclined his head to the Headmaster to begin, he received a brief nod in return of understanding before the wizard spoke again.



“I have made mistakes with you Harry. More than should be forgiven, most likely. When you arrived in the Wizarding world you were just as knowledgeable as a muggle-born and I decided to allow you to remain that way unless you began to search for information.”



“Information I wouldn’t have known existed. I realize that,” Harry agreed. “The question is why?”



“I wanted you to see the wonder of our world. To see its beauty before you were exposed to its ugliness.”



The usual reaction would be for him to explode but he was trying to think before he spoke these days. The beauty of the Wizarding world, he pondered Dumbledore’s words slowly and carefully. The beauty before the ugliness. Why would he need to learn to appreciate it?



Dumbledore wanted him to care about the Wizarding world.



To place importance upon it.



So that when Voldemort returned, he would be willing to fight for it.



“It still doesn’t explain why you would keep my heritage from me. My family.”



“The burdens of carrying the mantle of an Ancient and Noble House are heavy, Harry. I thought to spare you those responsibilities until you were older.”



“And spring them upon me after someone else’s death,” he couldn’t help that bit of sarcasm. “I trusted you to help me, to guide me, and you abused that trust.”



The word abuse didn’t sit well with the older man, obviously, considering their previous words; the comparison to his relatives must be repugnant. “What about Sirius and Remus? Did you forbid them from telling me?”



“No. Sirius did wonder,” Dumbledore admitted. “He mentioned speaking to you over the winter break about the house of Black and that you had no idea what he was talking about. He wanted to know why you dressed so shabbily. Why you weren’t wearing the Potter ring.”



“And what did you tell him?”



“That you chose not to wear the ring because you were having difficulties with Mr. Weasley the year before and did not want to exacerbate the situation further.”



“A good lie,” Harry nodded. “One that sounds like something I would do, so Sirius wouldn’t question it. He would remember how Ron behaved at the beginning of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and then he would recall how Remus felt about being a werewolf during their school years and use those memories as a comparison.”



Everyone probably believed he knew, Harry realized. They weren’t keeping things from him. And that was worse because people thought he didn’t care about his heritage, his family, to such an extent that he didn’t acknowledge his place as the head of his family.



If he had ever thought he understood Albus Dumbledore, he was greatly mistaken. This wasn’t the first lie, no the man had been withholding information from him for years. He shouldn’t feel so betrayed, so utterly shaken. But he was. His magic bubbled and seethed within him, seeking a way to express his fury. It meant their little meeting had to come to an end. He didn’t want to hurt Dumbledore; he just didn’t want to be in the man’s presence any longer.



“Do you have my ring?”



He had to know. Part of him hoped Dumbledore’s betrayal didn’t run that deep. Wanting to protect the Wizarding world could be considered honorable. It ran roughshod all over his feelings, but the Headmaster couldn’t consider the needs of one over so many. Theft however would have to be addressed because it wouldn’t be tolerated.



“No, I don’t.” He shook his head knowing he had lost a great deal of Harry’s trust. “The Potter vaults aren’t accessible by anyone other than a member of your family.”



“Vaults?” He whispered remembering his first year. The sheer astonishment of owning so many galleons when he had gone without all of his life.



“Yes. The vault available to you is your trust vault.” Dumbledore explained. “you will have to speak with one of the goblins at Gringotts about the remainder of your assets, Harry, as I’m not privileged with that information. I do know you wouldn’t have been able to access those vaults until your 16th birthday.”



Truth or lie. Harry was saddened to admit he could not tell. It would be a convenient lie. Perhaps the Headmaster had every intention of telling him. After he defeated Voldemort. Couldn’t have Harry’s attention diverted. Must keep Harry focused on what truly matters. A long dead family and heritage wasn’t as important as the rest of the Wizarding world.



“If I contact Gringotts, would it be possible for me to go to London and speak with them?”



“Your training is at a crucial time. With Voldemort’s recovery and amassing allies, we have to focus on strengthening your abilities for when you face him again.”



“In other words, no.” He closed his eyes to contain himself. “Would it be possible to meet with someone here at Hogwarts if the goblins are agreeable?”



“This-”



“I’m not letting this go, so you can stop trying to convince me. You either agree to a meeting here or I’ll find a way to London on my own.”



“You would risk the Wizarding world for material things Harry? Things that will be waiting for you until a later time when arrangements could be made for you to go safely to Gringotts?”



“Guilt from a man who has lied to me really isn’t the right move you should be making,” Harry said. “As the Wizarding world hasn’t been very kind to me, You should want me to find a connection to make me care, not alienate me even more.”



He could understand the man’s objections, so he would be the bigger individual and compromise. “However, I do see your point. So, if the goblins don’t agree to a meeting here at Hogwarts, I’ll consent to wait until winter break to visit Gringotts so that proper arrangements can be made.” He didn’t want to place Order members in danger out searching for him because he had run off, but he needed Dumbledore to understand he was serious.



“That will have to suffice,” Dumbledore quietly agreed.



“Thank you, Sir.”



“Is there anything else I can do for you Harry?”



“No, I’m fine, Sir. I should head down to breakfast.”



Albus Dumbledore had done quite enough for him already.



FSFSFS



By thetime he made it down, the Great Hall was full. He wouldn’t have time for a complete breakfast and food wouldn’t sit well on his angry stomach anyway but he would eat because he had promised Leo he would take care of himself. His friends were already seated in their normal places at the Gryffindor table when he arrived.



“I thought perhaps we had missed you entirely this morning,” Hermione smiled up from the Arithmancy book she was studying while finishing her breakfast. She looked him over briefly, a small frown of concern tightening her lips. “Where were you? Is something wrong?”



“I had to see Dumbledore this morning,” he paused at his seat across from her, took a deep breath and then sat down.



“Another vision?”



That would be the easy way to get out of explaining things but he found his own secrets distasteful after dealing with the Headmasters. “No, just something personal that I needed to speak with him about.” His tone said he wasn’t going to say more and he hoped she accepted it. Another argument wasn’t something he looked forward to. Ron was already sitting right next to her and ignoring him completely.



“Alright then,” she smiled briefly before returning to her meal.



Harry closed his eyes, clearing his thoughts, and began intoning the morning blessing. Embracing the stir of his magic. Rejoicing in this connection and how it seemed not only to rejuvenate him so that he was prepared for the day but it also centered him, calmed his anger and was a balm to his aching soul.



When he opened his eyes, he noticed Neville’s gaze focused on him. He nodded once in recognition, seeing Neville’s expression of amazement and pleasure. Perhaps tomorrow they could perform the rite together so Neville wouldn’t feel he had to hide any longer.



Neville’s gaze wasn’t the only Gryffindor watching him. Not that he cared. Someone was always watching him it seemed.



“What was that?” Ginny finally spoke up from her place on the other side of Hermione.



“It’s just a blessing,” he explained then began gathering his meal. He found he was hungry now and he only had a few minutes before he had to depart for class.



“And when did you start doing that?”



Ginny sounded a lot like her mother with that insistent tone. He loved Molly Weasley and could appreciate the concerned mothering to her own children. Directing that attitude to someone who had spent most of his life taking are of himself was a mistake. For Ginny, who was a year younger, to address him in such a way, as if she had every right, wasn’t the way she should go about seeking answers from him. Not if she wanted to continue being his friend. He could accept Hermione’s mothering, it was merely her way of expressing herself at times and she did it because she loved him. Ginny wasn’t Hermione.



“He’s changed,” Ron spoke for the first time, before Harry could politely tell Ginny to mind her own business. “All these special classes and that exercise rot. Prancing around looking like Malfoy, he’s not acting like the Harry we know.”



“Ron you sound foolish,” Hermione shook her head in exasperation. Harry could tell the same question Ginny posed had been seconds from her own lips. “Harry hasn’t changed just because he decided to apply himself in class or attire himself properly.”



Of course her defense wouldn’t sit well with her boyfriend. “Sure, you always take up for Harry.”



“I didn’t realize I needed to defend Harry from his best friend.” Her tone was coolly disapproving. “Have the two of you been arguing?”



“Yes.”



“No.”



They both answered at the same time causing Hermione to sigh tiredly. “Which is it now?”



Harry stared at Ron, raising brows as if to say, ‘you explain.’ When the redhead said nothing, Harry rolled his eyes and turned to her. “We’re having a disagreement about you.” After wiping his hands on a napkin, he reached into his rucksack until he found an extra invitation and passed it across the table to her.



“Wanted this to be a bit of a surprise but seeing as Ron and I aren’t,” he stopped, dipping his head slightly. “Never mind. That’s the cause of the argument.”



Hermione opened the invitation, a soft gasp of pleasure escaping before she placed a hand over her mouth. “The two of you were planning a birthday party for me?”



“A Coming of Age ceremony,” he clarified but he could see she didn’t quite see the difference. A quick glance around the Gryffindor table told him that Neville and shockingly enough Pavarti did. “But yes, Ron and I were planning a celebration for you on Thursday.”



She squealed with excitement.



Straight laced, bookworm, rule abiding, Hermione Granger, squealed happily before throwing her arms around Ron’s neck and covering his cheek with kisses. “Oh thank you, thank you,” she managed in between kisses. “Thank you so much.”



Ron’s skin flushed so red, the freckles on his face could barely be discerned. A crooked smile of pleasure curved across his face as he returned the enthusiastic hug. “Well, it was nothing,” Ron stammered with embarrassment though everyone could clearly see he was enjoying his girlfriend’s attention.



“No, it’s wonderful and thoughtful. Thank you,” she leaned back kissing Ron briefly on the lips, and then turned to face him. “Thank you both.”



“It’s no problem,” Harry smiled, a glint of humor returning at his best friend’s blatant delight.



“So why were you two fighting then?”



Ron’s eyes widened with guilt, realizing he had just taken credit for the very party he had argued against having. He threw an anxious glance at him and Harry sighed before looked away.



“Just a disagreement on whether or not you would enjoy a chocolate cake or a fruit filled one.”



“Oh fruit obviously. Much better than the sweetness of chocolate,” she grinned mischievously at them.



“Just what Ron was saying,” Harry nodded and went back to his food. The entire situation sitting heavily on his stomach for reasons he didn’t want to explore too deeply.