Harry Potter and the Rise of the Amphiptere

Lord Supremo

Story Summary:
Abused at home the summer after OotP, Harry snaps. Tired of life on the run, Harry decides to hide in plain sight and learns the truth about the Prophecy. Features Dark!Aristocrat!Harry, Manipulative!Dumbledore, and HarryMany

Chapter 02 - Lord Black-Potter Goes to Court

Chapter Summary:
Harry goes to court, and meets goblins
Posted:
07/25/2006
Hits:
3,564


A/N: Thank you to everyone who read my story, and bigger thanks to all you cool cats who reviewed it! I truly am amazed at how many of you there are: this story has 1740 hits, 30 reviews, and has been placed on 22 Favorites lists. I honestly didn't expect it to be read by even half the number that reviewed it, so this is really stunning. So, thank you again, and I'll respond to some reviews at the bottom. On with the show!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, would I waste my time writing on this website? I think not.


Chapter One: Lord Black-Potter Goes to Court

Vernon Dursley lay still on the ground, eyes frozen open, mouth wide in a silent scream.

Harry Potter stood over him, wand drawn but lowered, head swirling with a frothing potpourri of warring emotions. Shock that he had actually done it. Revulsion in the thought that he was now a killer. Relief that his nightmare imprisonment was over. Euphoria that came with the use of any Dark Magic, especially the Unforgiveables. But the emotion that came to the forefront of Harry's consciousness was an overwhelming sensation the he contained immense power. Ultimate power, he thought, remembering Grand Moff Tarkin's remarks on the potential of the Death Star.

The power seduced him.

How could it not? Harry had been bereft of it his whole life. Throughout his entire existence others had controlled him: Be it Dumbledore, the Dursleys, Voldemort, his friends, his teachers, his parents, or that bitch called Fate.

But now he had the power. He could make that most basic of choices - to live or to die - for whomever he pleased, and with just two words. Slowly, a smile grew on Harry's face.

Harry felt his eyes close of their own volition, and the world went dark. Then, he was rushing through a great field of gray, with flashing blue-white lights zipping by every so often. After 30 seconds of this travel, the lights slowed down and he peered down and saw a giant sphere of light just out of his reach. On closer inspection, the sphere was composed of thousands of smaller lights, each identical to ones that had whizzed past not a minute hence. The sphere was perfect but for a single hump on the side of the sphere farthest from Harry. A thin thread of lights trailed out from the vertex of this hump and extended off into the indeterminate distance. Harry reached out to touch this strand; for some reason, it seemed to call for him to do so.

His fingers were on the verge of making contact when a sharp tapping noise brought him back to consciousness. Momentarily confused, Harry recovered himself and searched for the source of the disturbance. A medium sized brown owl was hovering outside Harry's window, tied to its claws was a letter with an official-looking seal. Forgetting himself, Harry Vanished the bars and magically unlocked and opened the window, granting the bird access. It swooped in, dropped its load on the teen's shoulder, and flew merrily back out of the window, casting Harry a smug glance over its shoulder and earning a stern hoot of annoyance from Hedwig.

Harry picked up the envelope and turned it over. A Ministry seal, Harry noted, and now foreboding was his overwhelming sense. He slit the envelope open with a finger, unfolded the note within, and read the now familiar hand of Mafalda Hopkirk.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence that you performed the Killing Curse in the presence of a Muggle at six minutes past six this evening.

The severity of the breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, as well as the Unforgiveable Curses Declaration of 1755 has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the release of a warrant for your arrest. A team of Aurors will be calling at your place of residence shortly to take you into custody.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Harry checked the digital alarm clock next to his bed. It read 6:08. How on earth did they get an owl here that fast, Harry wondered. Then he realized the severity of his situation. If the Ministry could get an owl to his room all the way from London in just two minutes, it wouldn't take much longer than that to send a team of Aurors over. That meant he needed to pack.

Hurriedly, Harry grabbed up his essential items - his father's invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, and the scrapbook Hagrid gave to him - shrunk them, and placed them securely in his right pocket. Then, he sat down on the bed, set his wand down beside him, and waited.

Sure enough, no more than three minutes later, he heard a slightly muffled roar of "Reducto!" His door exploded, and three Aurors burst through the frame, wands at the ready, looking wildly around the room with their teeth clenched, apparently itching for any excuse to curse anything into oblivion.

The intensity of the men amused Harry. "A little excessive, don't you think?" he asked dryly, indicating the fragments of door now scattered about the floor and his own, non-threatening, posture.

One of the men had the grace to look a touch abashed and slightly lowered his wand, but the other two maintained their steely composure. The largest Auror jabbed his wand threateningly at Harry and growled with malicious delight, "Harry James Potter, you are under arrest for violation of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy, violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and," here the beefy man spied the dead Uncle Vernon lying not two feet in front of him, "first-degree murder of a Muggle by means of the Killing Curse. You will now be taken into custody to await trial before the High Court of the Wizengamot."

Harry did not move. "Aurors," he said in a reasonable tone, "I did what I did in self-defense, you see the golf club in the man's hands. Couldn't you just give me Veritaserum, verify my story, and call it a day?"

The large Auror was not amused. "Come with us now, Mr. Potter, or we will force you."

Harry grudgingly stood, and the three Aurors escorted him out. A Portkey was roughly shoved into his hands, and after that horrible navel jerk and spinning sensation, Harry found himself in a dark, 8' by 8' cell, bare except for a cot with a razor-thin mattress, pillow, and a toilet in the corner furthest from the door.

And so, for three days, Harry sat. He slept very little: the imprisonment was so similar to his time at Privet Drive that he would have nightmares of a raging Vernon bursting in with all kinds of pain-inflicting tools and wake up screaming. It was better, Harry supposed, than having Vernon actually charge into the room, and better than watching Voldemort rape, pillage, torture, and kill all night. But, it was no great honor, either. I know I'm the Chosen One, Harry recalled Tevye's line bitterly, thinking of the new moniker the press had given him of late, but couldn't the Fates choose someone else every once in a while?

On the third day, the cell door was roughly thrown open and the light streaming in from the hallway blinded Harry momentarily.

"Time for your trial, sweetheart," the guard standing at the door sneered mockingly. Harry did not dignify the remark with a response, but rather merely passed the guard and continued down the hallway to the lifts.

A squat, dangerous-looking goblin in an official-looking uniform stood in the center of the lift, hands clasped behind his back. As he saw Harry and the Auror approach, the goblin easily raised his right hand and snapped his fingers once. The Auror went slightly cross-eyed for a second, shook his head, and walked away in the direction from which he had come. The goblin beckoned Harry with one finger, and confused, Harry obeyed.

The lift door closed, and Harry quirked an eyebrow at the goblin. "My name is Grabtooth." The goblin stated his name as though it explained everything. When it became obvious that the name did not explain everything, the goblin went on.

"I am the head of the Inheritance and Succession Department at Gringotts." Here the goblin paused again, waiting for some sign of recognition.

When none came, the goblin sighed and continued. "Mr. Potter, whether or not you are aware of it, you are heir to two very large fortunes, those of the Blacks and the Potters. We'll go over the details later, but very soon you will be a very, very rich man."

"Won't matter too much if I'm in jail, will it?" Harry had been thinking during his three-day imprisonment and was now much less optimistic about his chances of acquittal.

Grabtooth gave a small chuckle. "That is why I am here, Mr. Potter, to tell you that all is taken care of. Gringotts will not allow one of our largest and most recognizable clients go to jail. Merely stay calm in that courtroom, speak of only the facts, and you will walk away without even a fine."

The lift clattered to a halt as the goblin completed its pronouncement and the iron gates creaked open. They were now in a corridor that Harry vaguely recognized as the one leading to the courtroom where he was tried the previous summer. As Harry stepped out of the lift, Grabtooth whispered to him, "Remember, stay calm."

Harry nodded, exited the lift, and strode toward a grim-faced Auror who was evidently waiting for him. The Auror gave Harry a curt nod and led him into the courtroom.

Courtroom Ten was exactly the same as the last time Harry had set foot in it. Dark stone walls, dimly lit by torches, surrounded him. Ahead of him sat the Wizengamot, 50 of the most powerful men in Wizarding Britain. In the center sat Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, who wore an extremely smug look on his bloated face. So far, the only difference Harry could detect was a large crowd filled the benches that had been empty.

As he walked to the chained chair in the center, Harry scanned the crowd for familiar faces, and he found them. To his right, Hermione was sitting with Neville, Dean, and Seamus, each of whom wore looks that were a mixture of worry and outright sadness. Curiously, the Weasleys were not sitting with this group, but rather were a few rows back on Harry's left. Mrs. Weasley was crying and being comforted by her husband. Fred and George were looking on with apprehensive interest. Bill had a pensive look on his face, and Ginny was gazing down on Harry with eyes full of unshed tears. The most interesting Weasley, however, was Ron. He was sitting on the outside of his family, arms crossed, and wearing a facial expression not uncommon to that of a person experiencing an old outhouse for the first time.

Above the Weasleys sat Draco Malfoy, who looked as giddy as anyone who's father had just been arrested could. A few seats over sat Blaise Zabini, a pretty Slytherin girl in Harry's year. Her face was unreadable, but Harry detected the slightest hint of...was it approval? Harry had never exchanged more than a few sentences with Blaise; she seemed to be a true Slytherin that worked behind the scenes to achieve her ends. Harry filed her posture away for later analysis and continued to walk.

Finally, he reached the manacled chair and sat. Instantly, the chains sprang to life and fastened him tightly to the seat. Make that two differences, Harry thought.

Cornelius Fudge cleared his throat imperiously. "Order, order," he called, banging a gavel to quiet the audience. Behind him, a few members of the Wizengamot corrected their posture.

"We are here today," Fudge began, "to hear the case of Mr. Harry James Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, who stands accused of first-degree murder of a Muggle and use of an Unforgiveable Curse against a fellow human being." Fudge paused for effect, then stared down at Harry. "Are you Mr. Harry James Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?"

"Yes," Harry declared, and Percy Weasley, sitting on the Minister's left, began scribbling furiously.

"And how do you plead to these charges?" Fudge asked.

"Not guilty by reason of self-defense," Harry said with a clear voice, just as he'd practiced. He heard a number of cameras snapping pictures.

Thus, the trial began. Looking back, Harry felt that the goblins may have wasted whatever resources they used to ensure his acquittal; since this trial was being held very publicly, Fudge could not use the same bully tactics he had at the previous year's hearing and as such, Harry was afforded plenty of time to tell his side of the story. The peanut gallery did its job beautifully, gasping when Harry described the treatment he had been subjected to for those three hellish days at Privet Drive and nodding its collective head when Harry explained why he felt he had to take Vernon's life. Fudge's case was sunk when, after Harry recalled the first time Vernon smashed him in the head with a wrench, Percy looked up from his writing, snorted, and asked why Vernon would suddenly start beating Harry after nearly 15 years of peaceful existence. Harry then treated Percy to a long history lecture on the various physical and emotional abuses committed against him by the Dursleys. At the end of his tale, the crowd appeared ready to take up pitchforks and torches against the family; no one, especially not a group of lowly Muggles, should be allowed to harm the Boy-Who-Lived like that.

In the end, the vote was 49 for acquittal, and only Cornelius Fudge for conviction. After the trial, Hermione and Blaise showed signs of wanting to talk to him, but a pair of goblins whisked Harry away before either could reach him. Before he knew it, Harry was sitting at the head of a long mahogany conference table, surrounded by goblins.

Before him were but two sheets of paper, although the goblins held many more in their arms. Harry read the one on the left first, which said,

I, Sirius Black, being of sound body and mind, do hereby adopt Harry James Potter into my care as Magical Guardian. In front of these witnesses I do swear to provide for, care for, nurture, and protect Harry James Potter to the best of my ability, until such time as Harry James Potter reaches the age of majority. Henceforth, Harry James Potter shall be known as Harry James Black-Potter, and shall be considered a full member of both House Black and House Potter.

Signed,

Sirius Black

Harry sat riveted to his chair, eyes watering and fixated on the document in front of him. I could have lived with Sirius this summer.

Eventually, Harry moved on to the next document, which bore the legend "The Last Will and Testament of Lord Sirius Black." Harry glanced mournfully up at the goblins, one of whom looked back with...was it empathy? Harry decided that the rare skill of displaying an emotion other than surliness or greed was what had landed the goblin in this room. Banishing an amusing mental image of a cavern full of goblins practicing "I'm sorry" faces to audition for the job, Harry returned, slightly more cheerful, to the task at hand.

The Last Will and Testament of Lord Sirius Black

I, Lord Sirius Black, being of sound body and mind, do hereby make my last Will and Testament.

First, to Mr. Remus J. Lupin, I leave a stipend of ten million Galleons per year and the Black Family Chateaux in Marseilles, with the condition that Mr. Lupin spend no less than one thousand Galleons per month on personal effects. It's not charity, Moony, it's the least I can thank you for your years of friendship. Now go and have fun.

Second, to Auror Nymphadora Tonks, I leave a stipend of two million Galleons per year, and the Black Penthouse in London. I know entry-level Auror salary isn't too great, so I hope this helps. Please be there for Harry when the time comes, he will need you.

Third, to Mr. Arthur Weasley, I leave five million Galleons. Despite the disagreements I had with your wife, you and your family have always acted as the family Harry never had, and for that I am profoundly grateful. Please accept this as a token of that gratitude.

Fourth, to Miss Hermione Granger, I leave one million, five hundred thousand Galleons. I cannot thank you enough for helping me to escape in your third year. Thank you also for being Harry's most loyal friend, and I ask that you remain so no matter what happens.

Fifth, to Mr. Ronald Weasley, I leave one million Galleons. You, too, have been a great and loyal friend to Harry. I know your sensitivity in matters regarding money, but please take this in the spirit that it is offered, the spirit of gratitude, not condescension.

Finally, all Black family assets, holdings, properties, titles, and lands, as well as all of my personal belongings not delegated above are left to Harry James Black-Potter. Harry, I'm sorry I didn't get to stay with you longer. Please, for my sake, don't dwell on my death. Live each day like it's your last; chase girls, play Quidditch, stay true to your friends. You will likely discover something about yourself sometime soon, it's not my place to say what, and when you do, please remember that even the best prophecies are self-fulfilling.

Here ends the Last Will and Testament of Lord Sirius Black.

Witnesses: Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody.

Upon seeing that Harry had finished reading the documents before him, Grabtooth stepped forward. "Lord Black-Potter," he began smoothly, "as you have no doubt gathered from the size of the apportionments in your step-father's Will, the Black Estate is a very large one, indeed the Blacks have always held one of the largest accounts in our bank." He extended a claw-like hand filled with several of the documents. "Here is a complete summary and description of the Black assets."

Harry accepted the documents and began to read. As he went over the rather expansive list, he skimmed over most parts, but a few key components did catch his eye:

Liquid Assets...3,770,309,000 Galleons

Black Castle. 90,000 ft2, 100 rooms, located on 6,000 acres outside Portsmouth. Served as the Black Ancestral Home for nearly 1200 years prior to purchase of the London Estate. Magical defenses: Unplottable, Proximity ward, last updated in 1852.

Alphard's Atoll. Small chain of islands off the coast of Tunisia. Was purchased in 1893 by Alphard Black. Main island (12 sq. miles) contains 30,000 ft2 villa, with 25 rooms. Adjacent islands were renovated in 1980 by Lord Sirius Black, contain amenities such as full-size Quidditch pitch, guest huts (2,000 ft2 each) for up to 200 guests, Combat Simulator. Much of all the islands is covered with jungle. Magical defenses: Unplottable, Anti-Portkey ward, Anti-Apparition ward, last updated in 1980. Water directly around the islands contains 3 Sea Serpents.

Black Penthouses. Located in most major port cities around the world, the Penthouses were purchased in 1975 by Regulus Black. Each is at least 10,000 ft2 and house elves update the furnishings every five years. Magical defenses: Proximity ward, Anti-Portkey ward, Anti-Apparition ward, last updated in 1978. Accessible only by Floo from the Black Castle, the London Estate, or the main house on Alphard's Atoll.

Black Shipping. The world's oldest shipping firm. Does business in both the Magical and Muggle worlds. Yearly profits exceed one billion Galleons. Ownership stake: 100

Black Magical Zoo. The world's largest collection of magical creatures. Is the Wizarding World's third most popular tourist destination, behind the Quidditch World Cup and Diagon Alley. Yearly profits exceed five million Galleons. Ownership stake: 100

ExxonMobil. Initial startup money was given to John D. Rockefeller by Alphard Black in the mid-1800s. Yearly profits in excess of six billion Galleons. Ownership stake: 40

The Daily Prophet. Founded in conjunction with the Potter Family in 1732. Yearly profits hover around two million Galleons. Ownership stake: 33

Count of Hampshire. Traditional Title of the Head of the Black Family. Gives the Head a seat in the Upper House of the Wizengamot.

Harry sat back and let out a slow breath. This was a lot to comprehend. The goblins had no intentions of allowing him to catch his breath, however, as a goblin dressed in fine silk robes lined with some sort of silvery fur stepped forward and addressed him.

"Lord Black-Potter, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Beastslayer. A long time ago, I served as your parents' financial advisor, and I have overseen the Potter Estate since their death. Since you have accepted your inheritance from the late Lord Black, you are now subject to an old law regarding Pureblood families and their heirs.

"Now, don't give me that look, please milord," added Beastslayer, noticing the expression of fright and anger that had appeared on Harry's face. "The law is nothing bad, it merely states that Lords and scions of the Noble Families come of age at 16, not the usual 17. This means, milord, that you will come into your Potter inheritance a full year earlier than you expected."

I thought I already had come into my Potter inheritance, thought Harry, but instead he asked, "Shouldn't this have already been the expectation? I've always been the Potter heir."

"True, milord," said Beastslayer, stroking his chin knowingly. "However, since your mother's line is all Muggle as far back as genealogical charts go, you are not a pureblood, and thus, not considered a 'scion,' despite the Potter line being among the oldest still in existence."

Harry nodded, and then massaged his temples in a futile attempt to clear his muddled thoughts. Seeing that the young Earl was thoroughly overwhelmed, Grabtooth said, "That's all the business for today. Lord Black-Potter, there will be a public reading of the late Lord Black's will in three days' time. Your attendance is not necessary, although it might be beneficial to you to come. The way people behave at will readings is often the best judge of their character."

With that, the goblins exited the room, with Harry following. A young-looking goblin in a rather plain suit escorted Harry back to the lobby.

Once he was alone, Harry went to thinking about where he was to stay. I'll just rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron, decided Harry. He exited Gringotts and walked, head down, towards the inn. He had not made it more than a block from the marble entranceway when he crashed headlong into a rather squishy something and fell. Harry picked himself up, looked around to see what he had hit, and was greeted with something he had never seen before.

Albus Dumbledore was glaring down at him with a look of utmost fury on his face.


A/N: Yes, yes, I know, not very much action in this chapter, more than a couple cliches, but I promise that everything you see here )and perhaps some stuff you didn't!) will become important later on. To all those who may be confused by the shift in Harry's mindset from seduced-by-the-dark person back to a more canon-like bitchiness from the beginning to the end of this chapter, that has to do with the three-day imprisonment and the reminder of Sirius' death that is his will. Both of these triggered a relapse that will last for just a touch longer (I swear, just a touch!). So, to some review responses!

First, to Jiyu Hatell Kodai, and the rest of you who commented on the prologue's ending, I will try to end every chapter with some sort of cliffie. If that bothers anyone, go read something else.

To sambee, yes there will be plenty of "chaos, evil, and suffering," as you so aptly put it, but not for a while. I don't believe that Harry could transform from a docile, dark-magic hater into the modern-day equivalent of a Viking Berserker so quickly(look for him to fit that mold later, though).

To Parselmaster, I got that complaint on the forum at too, so I'll copy-paste the response I posted there. I can see why Vernon's abuse of Harry might seem sudden, but think about it this way: Prior to recieving his Hogwarts letter, for the entirety Harry's life at Privet Drive he was beaten, starved, and neglected by the Dursleys. Then, when came back after his first year, they didnt beat him anymore, but Petunia swung a frying pan at his head, and Vernon threatens to beat him. After the Aunt Marge incident, however, the Dursleys realized that they couldnt get away with pissing Harry off anymore, so they left him alone. But in the summer before 5th year, Vernon showed that certain stimuli (Mundungus' Apparition, the Dementor attack) could lead him to hurt Harry again (Harry was strangled twice the day of the attack). I think that the public humiliation brought upon Vernon by the Order qualifies as a stimulus to restart the major abuse.

To japanese-jew, true, but Harry's plan really wasn't much of one. In true Gryffindor fashion, there was very little thought about the aftermath of Vernon's killing, unless you count the "Dumbledore will protect me" bit, which, as you saw a little of and will see more later, didn't pan out.

To tessa3, you will get your wish. Harry will have much more important things to worry about for the next few chapters than getting laid.

And finally, to Lady Erinyes, I think that Harry's line of thinking there was rational, considering his previous experience. He won't be relying on Dumbledore's protection for long, though, as the end of this chapter may have hinted.

Thanks again to everyone who read/reviewed!