Hello, Hello!

Story number four! (I apparently got into a mood to write a lot within the last day or two...though this one was wasn't written on extreme sleep deprivation like my others fics' chapters tend to be...)

As always, let me know what you think! I enjoy both constructive criticism and encouraging notes!


"No more. No more. Please. No more." I huffed out and finally collapsed. The war is over. We finally won. Voldemort has been vanquished. Yet all that remains on the battlefield is pain and destruction. No more. I want this feeling no more. Even though we won, I feel defeated. Is this really the cost? All this pain and destruction. For what exactly? History has shown time and time again that a new dark lord would rise and try to take over. Is what I did all for not? Well, it seems that way. Although there are quite a few people still alive, many more are dead. Either from my own actions or from that of their own or others.

Too much blood. Too much pain. Too much destruction. Too much death.

I black out.

I stand upon the remaining tower, looking across the view. Below there is a ceremony. One that is a celebration of the war being won, but also one that mourns the death of all whom fallen. I sigh. I know that the others wished for me to be down there too, but I cannot. I cannot face any of them. I led those people into battle. Their blood is on my hands, even if indirectly. I can no longer say that I am their friend, or even family. I no longer feel that I have that right. I must leave at once, and be a burden no longer.

I lift my hood over my face, allowing me to instantly vanish. With the cloak of invisibility surrounding me, I can easily go by unnoticed. The elder wand and resurrection stone have returned to me as well. I guess the old fable is true. I am now the Master of Death. Yet, I wish that wasn't the case. I wish to pass on and see my family once more, but I know that I have paid the cost. I cannot have what I desire most. Well, if the toll of death on my hands is what it takes for me to appreciate life more, then so be it. I will do my best to make sure that anyone has a better life than I have had. I will do it for the sake of those who died. For those who I can never meet. For those I can no longer greet. For those I can no longer love.

I need to drop my gloomy atmosphere. It is depressing any whom I am near. Sigh. Well, I hope this works.

"Halt. You are no longer allowed entrance here. You stole from us and caused us countless amounts of damage. What more could you want?" Shouted a goblin. He stood by the front entrance, and held a spear out towards me. I honestly wish that there was another way. I sigh again.

"Sir, if you please, let me speak with Director Ragnarok. If so, this will be the last time anyone from this bank may see me. I am willing to repair any damage I or my companions have caused. And replace your dragon." I tried to speak with an even tone. I think the goblin took note of the dead look I had in my eyes, as he looked a bit frightened. Oops.

He then summoned another goblin, and explained the situation in gobbledygook. That's interesting. I can understand what they are saying. I wonder if this may be one of the new powers I got. Hm. Something to test later though.

"Alright human." Do I even qualify as one anymore? "We will escort you down to meet with him. One wrong move, and off with your neck. Understood?"

I simply nod, not correcting him in the slightest. I doubt I can really die now anyways. Wonder what would happen if he tried to cut of my head. Eh, I probably shouldn't test that.

They led me down a dark and damp corridor. I assume they are trying to take a longer, more confusing route on purpose. Whatever. Anyways, we come up to this ornate door. They knock, and after receiving the go-ahead, they entered, with me following behind.

"So you're the one who broke in here," spoke the director with a hint of curiosity in his tone of voice.

"Yes sir." It helps to be polite, I hope.

"Why did you wish to see me today? I figured you wouldn't show your face around here ever again after what you did."

"I wasn't exactly planning on it sir. Well, I am here for two—maybe three?—things. For one, I would like to help make reparations, whether through coin or other means. Two, I would like to go over my accounts, like see my heir-ships and all that. And then withdraw everything, so I would no longer need to come here again, as I doubt you would wish me to. And finally, I was wondering if you, by chance, have a way for me to move on towards someplace else. Somewhere where people would not know who I am." I hope I am not asking for too much. You never know with these goblins, it really depends on their mood. If they are in a good mood, they may even give you bonus tidbits of information. If not, well, the best way to put it is that you shouldn't temp them to take your life. Like that first goblin I met. He was in a grumpy mood.

I'm guessing Ragnarok is in a good mood, for he began to laugh. "Well, don't you have some courage there lad. Well, I'm not going to say no. Let's start with the inheritances just to find out how much you can help us out, and we'll go from there."

"Thank you."

He had a guard run to get the paperwork, and once it was retrieved, I was asked to place 7 drops of blood onto the page.

Harrison James Potter

Father: James Fleamont Potter

Mother: Lily Rosemary Potter

Godfather: Sirius Orion Black

Godmother: Alice Longbottom


Heir to Potter

Heir to Black

Heir to Slytherin

Heir to Gryffindor

Heir to Peverell

Heir to Emyrs


Master of Death

Duke Peverell

Marquess Emyrs

Earl Slytherin-Black

Baron Gryffindor-Potter


7,453,892,938,487,193 galleons

Half of Hogwarts

12 Grimmauld Place

Cottage at Godric's Hollow

Black Chateau, France

Peverell Castle

Emyrs Manor

Slytherin Manor

Gryffindor Sword

Family Vaults 2, 7, 8, 12, 45, 76


I admit I had to blink a few times to process what was on the page. I have 7 quadrillion galleons. I didn't even realize that was possible. The titles I got were interesting though. I wonder where the 'Heir to Emyrs' came from though. That's the only one I don't quite understand, as I have Potter, Gryffindor, and Peverell through my dad, Black through my godfather, Slytherin by (I assume) conquest. But Emyrs? I wonder if that is by magic. Or maybe my mother was a part of a squib line with the lineage?

The goblins looked at me like I was an impossibility. I'm guessing this isn't normal.

...I should probably not make jokes with myself.

"Lord Potter. I think you have more than enough for us to come to an agreement," said the director the moment he regained his bearings. "Just leave 1,000,000,000 galleons with us, and that should be fine with regard to the reparations. I will also have my goblins go through your vaults to empty them, sorting and placing them within magically expanded trunks. This will most likely collapse the economy, but those fools are asking for it. I digress. We also do have a ritual you can undergo for another 1,000,000,000 galleons. This ritual can send you into a dimensional rift. However, we will not be able to determine your destination, nor be able to help you once you are there. You will be forever cutoff from this world, and only a miracle could make a return happen. Do you still wish to do so?"


"Are you ready?" Director Ragnarok asked of me. He almost seemed sad to watch me leave. I wonder why that may be. Though maybe it is 'cause it seems that I am out to spite the purebloods, or just the magical world all together. Realistically, I'm just nonchalant about it now. After that last battle, I had no more spite left in me.

I simply nod back at him, even though I know he would have preferred a verbal response. I stood in the center of the room, my inheritance sitting within a little mokeskin pouch necklace that hung about my neck. Runes began to circle all around me.

I simply closed my eyes and let myself fade.