I Disclaim ownership of Harry Potter.

Alert! Mature content and magical furniture intercourse ahead.

-o

Chapter Two:
The Secret

-o

Harry landed quite comfortably in what he deduced was a rather big, extremely cushy, lazy-man recliner chair. Or at least something that looked pretty damn close to it. He ended up sprawled and smelling faintly of cinnamon, something that surprised him since he'd expected to come out of that squishy tunnel a sweating, messy heap.

He had come two times on his way down after all.

Still, he couldn't complain and he just allowed himself to sink into the sofa, or whatever it was, and closed his eyes, too lethargic to do a damn thing more at the moment. Truly, he had never experienced anything quite like it before, not because of how the entrance of his family vault worked, which was quite, well, peculiar, but because of all the times he came in the process of actually gaining access to it.

He'd never been able to masturbate as completely as he had on this day either, so it was a rather new and enlightening experience for him.

After all, it would be a great impossibility that the Dursley's would actually leave him be while he 'cleaned his pipes,' especially with the grunting noises he was prone to make while doing it. On the other hand, when visiting at the Burrow someone was always around him, and then he slept with Ron in his room, and while his best friend might not mind hearing him beating off a time or two, he knew his own release took time and was a complete mess; he didn't even want to think about what Mrs. Weasley would say in the face of the next day's laundry. Bathrooms were out of the question as well, since again, he needed time and people were prone to assemble a search party if he was missing for more than fifteen minutes.

Hogwarts, then, would have been an ideal place, but he'd always been stressed with something or other, which had kept his mind clearly away from such activities. First with the Dementors and Sirius in third year (which is when he'd started popping boners), then with the Triwizard Tournament in fourth, and lastly with Umbridge and his nightmares in fifth. Not to mention that a wanking session like the one he just experienced would've been almost impossible to pull off in a room with four other boys. Again, both because of the length of time he would need to find complete release and the absolute mess such an act would make. The variation of the Banishing Charm that could help him with that, after all, wasn't taught until fifth year.

So really, taking all of this into account, one could conclude that Harry Potter was a rather frustrated teenager. His pipes had really needed the cleaning. So the fact that his Family Vault had provided even a slight help in that area was absolutely brilliant in his mind.

The whole assessment was a bit clinical, true, but those were the facts. Until now Harry simply had had to content himself with short half-wanks, as he liked to call them, to fulfill at least some of his very normal and very frequent teenage urges. He had to honestly admit; his pursuit of Cho last year had been more about finding a girlfriend than anything else. Maybe then, if he had the excuse of going out with her, he would have been able to find some time to be alone by himself at the very least.

He wouldn't have minded some help, of course, but then, he was already getting desperate by that time. Maybe that's why his temper was so frayed; even half-wanks had been few and far between during his last year at Hogwarts, and it was common knowledge that a growing boy needed more than that; far more, actually. Like, at least a couple of times a week.

Harry was lucky if he could get some one on one interaction with his hand once a month. And that was being generous.

But whatever, he already felt some energy returning, and though he wanted nothing more than have someone to cuddle with, the fact he was within his family vault was enough to make him move.

The first thing he noticed, of course, was he was completely starkers; only his glasses remained on his face. And though he was intensely embarrassed —for surely someone noticed the blush in his cheeks? — It was more out of self-consciousness than anything else.

Still, whatever embarrassment he felt was quickly gone as he took in his surroundings, even if he wasn't quite ready to leave the comfort of the recliner thingy he was lying on. Sprawled in. You get the idea. The thing, chair, whatever, had started giving his bare skin the lightest of massages after all, so why the hell would he stand up from it?

The distraction the room provided was obvious, though, seeing it was filled with a wide range of eye-catching things; he really didn't know where to look first, he could admit. From the spherical tanks of brightly colored liquid placed in each of the corners of the chamber and the middle of each wall, to the cubby holes and multiple compartments embedded into the stone walls themselves, holding any number of magical gadgets and potions, along with many things he couldn't quite identify. As he swiveled his head, he recognized three books within a small cubby, though those were the only ones in the rather large chamber.

It seemed to him his family wasn't really fond of reading; People after his own heart, he was glad to see.

Apart from the sofa, chair, thing, he was sunken into, sprawled onto, which was giving his feet some delicious kneading (making his whole body tingle as the soles of his feet were firmly rubbed), a small side table on his left and a fluffy looking rug at his right, the rest of the room was completely bare. There was no furniture or clutter, and nothing else taking up space apart from the seven spherical tanks of colored liquid. There was no gold or jewelry, though he did see a few small compartments with a necklace, rings or bracelets along the walls, but he couldn't see anything that would count as treasure or gold.

Not that gold really mattered to him. Everything else was fascinating enough, and as soon as this recliner finished that heavenly massage, he was sure to explore the lot of it. Still, as he half closed his eyes when a particularly knotted spot in his back was rubbed thoroughly, relaxing the muscles there, he finally noticed something he hadn't in his quick perusal. For in front of him, same as the entrance of the vault itself was a round protrusion in the wall, even if it was surrounded by nooks and small compartments.

He noticed it now, though, because the face of the guardian was slowly emerging from it, much like it had when the goblin had thrown wine at its surface. The difference was that its handsome face was now smiling while looking in his direction. "Welcome again, Master Potter. My name is Bobby and I am the Guardian of your Vaults, Keeper of your Estates, Overseer of your family's Heritage and, from today onwards, at your complete service," and Harry was sure that should he be able, Bobby would be bowing (and who the hell gave a fifteen hundred year old guardian a name like that? But then, maybe it was short for Robert?). As it was, the guardian was now smiling apologetically, "I am extremely sorry for my rude behavior towards you, Master Potter, but the goblins—"

He waved that off, "Stop right there. I know what those pieces of bat-shit have been doing, so you don't have to explain, what we need to do is find a way to get back at the little bugg—" and good gracious, he was going to give whoever made this overstuffed, massaging chair thingy his firstborn son at least, because he was in heaven as his scalp was being massaged by what felt like dexterous fingers. And what else could he do?

He moaned.

Loudly.

"Ah, I see it is already working," he heard Bobby say, "You are lying in your many great-great-grandfathers lounger, Master Potter. It was his wish for the family some five hundred years ago, when he arrived at the same spot that you have, only to fall into a normal, quite rigid, wingback chair. He was of the mind that a comfortable landing was a must and that relaxing before any business within the vault would be advantageous. Truly, there has not been a Potter until your great-grandfather that has not enjoyed it." He could literally feel the grimace at the mention of his great-grandfather, but he didn't have a mind to ask at the moment.

Because, really, he was a sixteen year old boy! He was already hard again from the full body massage, and how his bum was getting a full rub down didn't help matters any. Then again, he didn't want it to stop, arching into the magical, skilful cushions as his hand made its way to his hard flesh, slowly stroking it while he pushed his bum down, enjoying the feelings he was receiving.

His eyes snapped open a moment later, though, when he felt his cheeks being parted, before they fluttered close with a groan as something silky started stroking at his entrance. Okay, he could see how someone could freak out because of that, but damn did it feel good! So, already liking this great-great-many-times-grandfather quite a bit by now, he continued stroking himself as that silky something began entering him, making him groan even louder as his body insistently, wantonly, pushed itself unto it, looking, hoping, for the feeling to increase.

"Oh yes, you certainly are a Potter, young master," he heard Bobby say distantly, "A true one at that."

He really didn't care though, and shoved the comment to the back of his mind, though it did remind him that someone was watching, even if it was a magically animated guardian. It gave him that same thrill it had back in the tunnels, though he had to admit it was warmer and cozier where he was . . . and damn, but that felt good~! He gasped, rocking himself into the hard, silky softness that had entered him, small at first, but steadily growing as he became accustomed to the sensation.

It was slick and warm, and of a completely different texture than the rest of the lounger, though the fingers massaging his scalp were quite different from the rest of the thing too. Still, as it grew and he pushed himself onto it, it touched something within him he hadn't known existed, making him cry out in pleasure. His hand came off of his cock, needing it as he did to brace himself better as his whole body joined in rocking into that delicious hardness, wanting it to hit that spot again.

Needing it to hit that spot again. Because, bloody hell, it felt fantastic!

Not long after his hand left its place, though, something soft and furry seemed to wrap around him like a blanket and his throbbing member was soon completely surrounded by that warmth, bringing with it a whole slew of new sensations rushing into his brain, even as his sac was fondled gently by whatever-that-was, and dear Merlin, did it feel heavenly.

True, a small part of him wanted to know what the hell was happening, but the rest of him, a big and sound majority, didn't give a shit. He continued his rapid thrusting, even as he moved to better accommodate his straining, wrapped-up erection; moving downwards into the lounger and upward into whatever held his dick captive in smooth even movements; his muscles straining slightly from the effort, which added a delicious feel to the whole affair.

He was panting, groaning, moaning and sweating; his whole body alive with feeling, his mouth parted and his eyes closed. He heard nothing but the sounds of his own body; all of his senses were closed to the outside world. He could only hear his own breath, his own heart; the soft sounds made as his body hit the surface of the lounger, when that hard shaft was buried deep within him. He'd never felt something as amazing and all encompassing as this, and he enjoyed it. He rejoiced in it; in the feelings and sensations it caused. He enjoyed the feel of that something sliding into him, the feel of his cock being engulfed by soft furry warmness; he liked the feel of his body as it strained, bending and moving in ways it was not accustomed to.

It was exhilarating, mind-blowing and incredibly hot, and he didn't want it to end.

He didn't know how much time he spent, lost in feeling, in need and desire, in the feel of his body and the pull of his lungs as they searched for air. He didn't know, and even as he came repeatedly, his cum seemingly milked out of him in great spurts, once, twice, three times and more; each making his muscles tense a little bit more every time, his tendons growing tauter beneath his skin and his balls becoming more and more compressed with each release.

His toes bloody well curled and he was sure his stomach muscles had never been as tense.

He was thrown into convulsions by the intensity of it all, his body trying to cope with the raw sensations being administered to it, not used to them as it was. Still, even as the strain became slightly painful while his flesh grew overheated, it only added to the symphony of feeling and sensation in his body; he felt as if he were an instrument being flawlessly played by a master, even as he continued to thrust up and down, his dick red and aching, his bottom pleasantly sore. And when he came once again, the last time, the comparatively small squirt much diminished from the massive gushes that had been released after so many, he did the only sensibly thing that his brain could muster at that moment.

He passed out, overwhelmed.

But, galloping Hippogriffs, his mind echoed with his last thoughts, I want to do that again!

"Poor, lad, even when he tossed off before, he was holding back," Bobby whispered, gazing at his new master in both amazement and slight sympathy, even as the lounger settled and Shaggy, the fluffy rug that now covered the green eyed boy, finished cleaning him up while it expanded, tucking the last of the Potter's in; for a magic carpet, it seemed rather happy to be awake, snuggling into Harry as much as it could. It hadn't responded to more than a few Potters before, so the guardian knew that the boy had to be special, for the carpet, rug, blanket or whatever, to choose him.

"Still," Bobby muttered to himself, watching the gaunt yet peaceful features of his young master in slumber, "To maintain such a pace for more than three hours and eject so much, while impressive, means the boy hasn't been able to find complete release, well, maybe since puberty struck." It was almost impossible to fathom, that a sixteen year old boy could have such control that he would ignore the urges of his body, of his birthright, for he was a Potter through and through. Anyone else wouldn't have given a damn and simply wanked to their hearts content, no matter the place or situation, but not this boy. Why though?

Potters had a natural urge to find pleasure and release, what with their dicks being what they were. For one to actually suppress those urges, well, it was unnatural in its impossibility, and yet, here was one who had seemingly done just that. And a teenager no less! The will that boy had to possess was probably immensurable.

Determination settled in him at this revelation. He would need to learn more about his new master, and quickly. Looking around the giant vault chamber, he concentrated and the lights lowered even as a jug of water and an empty glass appeared on the small side-table; it wouldn't do for the young master to become dehydrated, especially after he had expelled more fluids than was healthy. "Explanations can wait until later. Sleep well for now, young master, I will be here when you awake," and with that whispered promise, he blended into the stones, as he always did.

He had a few things to do and a few goblins to interrogate. It had been a long time since he travelled anywhere but the chambers he protected, but there was a small outlet in one specific conference room, and he needed answers, and he needed them fast. Woe to the goblins if they didn't answer his call; they would apologize and make reparations, at the very least. Their race would be finished otherwise. They had, after all, broken many of their accords, and now that he had a new Master, simply by the lad entering the Family Vault, he had every right to demand retribution.

It was time to tighten the leash, and he was going to enjoy it.

-O●O●O●O-

When Harry woke up next he felt better than he had in years; freer, as if a heavy load had been lifted from his shoulders. When he remembered what he'd done before passing out, well, he was sure one could have filled a bucket with his load; his balls had probably shrunk after all the cum he shot out, which immediately made him wonder where it had gone to, he should be swimming in the stuff. But he wasn't.

Strange, huh?

Cracking open an eye and spying a jug of water beside him, he suddenly felt thirstier than he ever remembered being, so he sat up and took the jug of cool, fresh water and drank directly from the pitcher, heaving a sigh when he was done. He'd almost drained the whole jug, which had refilled itself as he drank from it.

The next thing he noticed was that he was, once again, completely clean, followed closely by the warm, tickling feeling of fur against his bare skin, and of that same fur nuzzling his sides. He had to do a double take, until he noted that, yes, it was the fluffy looking rug which was now wrapped so comfortably around and against him, and, yes, it was furry on both sides, even if it was flat and square, like any other rug normally was. Though puzzled by it, he still petted it absentmindedly after it had nuzzled one of his hands for attention. It was strange, and rather cute, and he wondered if it had been this same rug that had given his cock such a sound rubdown.

It certainly felt like it.

And if it had, then the least he could do was pet it to its heart's content, right? It deserved it.

Surely, it was more than slightly weird, but he was already becoming used to it by now; after all, all this weirdness had given him the most amazing release (because he couldn't really categorize being stimulated by magical thingamabobs as sex) that he would have thought possible. After today, he wasn't sure if he would be able to deny himself as he had before; letting go as he had done simply felt too good to ignore.

He would need to find a place and the time to do it as well. Not doing so would be sacrilegious, even.

At the moment his bum felt enjoyably achy and his bits seemed quite recovered after their rigorous exercise. Pouring himself a glass of water, he relaxed into the comfortable embrace of the lounge chair –thing– enjoying the mild massage it was giving him this time; it seemed it sensed that he wasn't quite up to another round, thankfully, though he was sure his teenage body could handle it if push came to shove, or rub. And he wouldn't mind getting something shoved into him again.

Hmm, yummy thoughts indeed.

"Ah, good morning, young master," Bobby piped up, making him twist around a bit so he didn't have to sit up to look at the guardian and gave a soft greeting in return. He felt too lazy to do anything more at the moment, not to mention that the furry rug –thing–, whatever, had wrapped more comfortably around him, even as his hand stroked its fur idly. He could swear the thing was purring, even, or vibrating, since it made no sound. "I see that Shaggy has taken a liking to you, Master Potter."

"Shaggy?" he asked incredulously before looking at the rug. Well, its fur was shaggy he supposed, and golden in color, but then, after what he'd felt Shaggy do to him before, he had to admit the name somewhat suited him, it . . . you get the point. "And please, Bobby," he said, turning to look back at the guardians face, "call me Harry."

"Certainly, Master Harry," the guardian told him with a cheeky grin, making him give the giant face a lopsided smile. "Now, there are a great many things to say, and a great many explanations to give, I am sure, but how about a bit of breakfast before we start on anything of the sort? I can start filling you in on your family as you eat."

And with that, the lounge chair slowly reclined forward, leaving him in a comfortable sitting position with Shaggy curled around his lap and covering his legs, leaving him bare-chested. A moment later the side table appeared to twist and turn before it extended its top across his lap while food; eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, beans, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, jam, tea and pumpkin juice (not in that order), along with a few potion vials and fruits, appeared on its surface.

"The potions are a base that needs to be ingested before you go into the blue tank of liquid magic, where your body will be healed of any injury or damage," Bobby explained before he had a chance to ask, "Now drink them before eating and I will explain everything. If you have questions, you may ask them after I am done; it will be easier that way."

It was bizarre. He had never felt quite as he did in this chamber in any other place, even in Hogwarts, which he considered as his home. He felt like he belonged here, like nothing could harm him here . . . not even Voldemort.

And that was a powerful feeling.

So Harry simply nodded, somehow knowing that nothing would be hidden from him and that his questions would not go unanswered; Much like how he knew that he would be all right and safe while he was dropping through that spongy chute, and later, how it was alright for him to simply give in to the sensations the magical lounge chair and rug thing, Shaggy, he now knew, were providing. It was odd, sure, but then, he had been told that his family was strange. So he picked up a fork, wiggled into a more comfortable position with Shaggy lightly fondling his sac, and started eating, more than slightly hungry, even as he listened to Bobby talk, telling him about his family.

"Some two thousand years ago," Bobby began, and Harry startled at the number, slightly afraid that this would turn into a long ass lecture, "seven very powerful magical objects were created; no one really knows how, or by whom, and there are many rumors and myths surrounding them; speculations that the gods created them, while others say that powerful sorcerers made them, but again, it was all hearsay and guesswork. These seven objects were made to house seven great spirits; spirits that became known as the Jinn, or Genies."

Harry choked on a piece of sausage and had to get some juice to wash it down, even as the lounge chair patted his back gently. He remained silent, however, thunderstruck.

"Yes, Genies are quite real, young master. As in the myths and stories, they are spirits with tremendous power that grant the possessor of their receptacle a number of wishes, as long as those wishes are not made for the revival of the dead, the manipulation of a person's free will or emotions, for wishing for more wishes, or to free the Genie from their vessel. Anything and everything else, is and can be done; the scale of it is only dependent on the power of the Genie involved."

Bobby simply smiled at Harry's awed expression, for much like the wizarding world was only a myth within the muggle world, so were the Jinn a myth amongst all magical folk. "Why do I tell you this, you might think? Well, Master Potter, I tell you this because your family came across one of these containers a few centuries after they were created. This is the secret of their prestige, of their fame and their fortune. Because of the Genie housed within my last chamber, generations of Potters have wished and made lives for themselves in any way that suited them best."Struck almost speechless, Harry simply stared at Bobby in the face, mouth hanging open, even as he tried to articulate the questions that were running through his mind. "Now, young master, please, continue eating. Like I said, you may ask questions at the end, so save them until then." At Harry's tentative nod, the guardian continued, his voice grave, even if he could see the wheels whirling within the boys mind. "However, while the first Potter's to become the Genie's master gained much strength for a time, they were reckless, foolhardy and greedy. They died for their ambitions, their wealth stolen, with their wishes now worthless; wasted. The Genie would have been forever lost if not for a small boy; Perseus Potter."Bobby smiled, "Perseus took the Genie's container and fled from his remaining family, not calling on it or wishing for anything, having learned his lesson after seeing his own father murdered because of his misuse of it, and his father's father before that. He came to Gringotts and claimed his Family Vault, which at the time was quite the same as any other. He dismissed his goblin escort and shut himself within the vault, where he finally called upon the powerful spirit and made his first wish."Harry was, by now, engrossed in the story of his ancestor, almost imagining what he had experienced throughout his life. "Perseus created me with his wish; a guardian for his family and their heritage: the Genie. He made the wish in such a way that I would become the Vault, a place out of this dimension where the Genie could be safely kept along with everything that the Potter Family possessed. Rules were created so that the Genie could not be misused again, and so Perseus wished for the Genie to follow them."

And so the guardian recited the rules each Potter before him had to follow, that Perseus Potter had placed upon the Genie he now knew had to be in this very vault, and he found these rules to be more than reasonable: "A Potter has to use his wishes for the family and then for himself. One wish, at least, should have permanence, so those that come after you might benefit from them. How you do this is up to you, but all the things you see in this chamber were wished into being by previous Potters for the use of their descendants. The Genie has been forbidden to grant a wish that would cause harm, or a wish wished with ill intent, for Perseus did not want his family to use its powers for evil. Lastly, a Potter cannot take the Genie's container from within my chambers, and no one but a Potter can come inside of me. Should the Potter Family perish, I am to leave Gringotts in search of a new Family to serve, should I find one worthy enough for that which I guard."That explained quite a bit actually, including why everything within the vault looked so strange and, well, magical. Nothing looked like anything he had ever seen, and still, "You said the Genie's container was in this vault, where and what is it?" he asked, more than curious.

"Ah, Master Potter," The guardian answered him with a mock-scolding tone, "The Genie is within one of my other chambers; His vessel is a rather big ceramic vase."

Finishing with his rather big breakfast, somewhat surprised he'd been hungry enough to eat all of it, he saw as the side-table returned to what it was before and the dishes disappeared before lifting Shaggy around his shoulders and settling into the chair more cosily, his balls still being gently handled. It was better if he found out about everything before going poking around; he was curious, yes, but if someone had the information and answers for him, he wouldn't go chasing around for them. Besides, he was confused about a few things, "Another chamber? I thought this was the only one."

Shaking his giant head slightly, Bobby let out a low chuckle, amused at the picture that Harry made, snuggled up with Shaggy like that. The lad didn't know just how special his new 'blanket' was. "I have three main chambers at present, young master. This being the first, since it is best that you are aware of the things that your ancestors have wished for your use, so you might not waste your wishes in something that already exists. The second chamber holds your monetary holdings and information of your multiple properties, along with any pertinent titles inherited or wished for by your predecessors. The last chamber, as you no doubt already know, houses the vase in which the Genie resides."

"Wow," that was a little more than he was expecting. Okay, so who was he fooling? That was a whole heck of lot more than he had ever imagined! It made him look at all of the stuff within the small compartments with new eyes. Everything within those compartments and cubby holes was left and wished for by his family for him to use (and his children after that). It was overwhelming, and just thinking that he might leave something for those that came after him made him feel amazing as well.

It made him realize that his destiny might not be as hard to overcome, with all of this at his disposal, with three wishes that could help him in defeating Voldemort! Maybe this is 'the power the Dark Lord knows not?' Whatever the case, this was the first time since he had heard the prophecy that he felt like he had a chance. Like there was, indeed, a future out there for him to grasp. Still, he remembered something from when Bobby had started his explanations. "You said there were seven Genies, and that the scale of the wishes depended on the Genie's power, so where are the other six? And what did you mean by the scale of the individual Genie's power?"

Harry could swear the guardian's eyes were sparkling, even as a pleased smile spread across its lips. "You are a sharp one, aren't you, young master? Only one person has asked that before and the others only considered it briefly before dismissing it, not doing anything about it. Anyways, yes, there are seven Genies; apart from the vase held within these chambers, you might have heard of an old oil lamp in some tales, or that of a ring in others?" he asked, smirking when Harry's eyes went wide.

"You mean to say that those stories about Aladdin were true?" Harry eyes were filled with disbelief.

"Indeed, Master Harry," the guardian confirmed, amused at how the young man goggled at him, "However, while there are references in history that might account for the other four Genies', it is my belief that their limitations don't make them as noticeable. The lamp contains the second most powerful of the Seven, just like the ring I mentioned, contained the least. Depending on their power, they can be very different from each other, and the wishes that you make of them can vary vastly. The ring, for example, can grant a multitude of wishes, but they are minor wishes at that, nothing that a powerful wizard could not accomplish, I am sure. The more powerful the Genie, the least amount of wishes it can grant, though the scale, diversity and power of the wishes increases."

Almost too nervous to ask, Harry just blurted it out, "And which of them is the vase, then?"

"Why, Master Potter," Bobby answerer coyly, "the vase contains the most powerful of them all, but you already suspected that, isn't that right? As it stands, the genie within the vase will grant you three wishes at most."

Giving a jerky nod, Harry confirmed this. It certainly explained why his ancestor had gone to such lengths to secure its use. He took a deep breath and relaxed; glad for the distraction that Shaggy provided when he demanded some attention. Fishing for more information, however, seemed to be the best course of action. He could process it all as he found out about it. "So, what can you tell me about all of these things?" he asked, motioning to the chamber at large.

"I thought you'd never ask, young master!" The guardian was positively beaming, seemingly excited to share. "One of the things I have been charged with during the years was to keep track of all those things your family has wished for. For example, those big coloured tanks are filled with liquid magic, each wished into existence to perform a certain function; the blue tank, should you immerse yourself in it, will heal any and all injury that your body has suffered. It will, in effect, cure your malnutrition, your eyesight, your stunted growth and anything else that might be wrong with you. It is the reason that a Potter had never died of disease." It made Harry's eyes go misty, which Bobby didn't seem to notice in his excitement.

"The golden tank follows in the same line as the blue one, only that this one will grant you physical strength and durability, as if you had worked out all of your life, I remember was the wording of the wish. After spending the needed time within it, you will be forever fit, though you have to decide just how fit you want to become. I remember a Potter that wanted to be the strongest man on earth and ended up with enormous muscles." Harry shook his head, trying desperately to understand what the guardian was saying. It seemed impossible. All of it; it was simply hard to believe that such things existed.

"After taking a dip in the green tank, the liquid magic will find your animagus form and allow you to transform into it as if it were second nature." Upon hearing this, Harry became extremely excited, but then something occurred to him, if his father could just take a dip into the pool to become an animagus, then why didn't he? Had his father even known about Bobby? It made him remember what the guardian had said to the goblin. Now that he thought about it, had he really meant his father? He would have to ask, certainly. For now, though, he listened to what the stone face had to say.

"The red tank contains a rather ingenious wish. Seven hundred years ago, one of your ancestors wanted very dearly to hold some strange and unusual power, but he couldn't decide on what to wish for; should he wish for wings to fly with without being an animagus? The ability to change form at will without being a metamorphmagus? He couldn't decide, so for his wish, taking the tanks of liquid magic as an example, like others had done before him, he asked for a tank himself; one that would grant a unique ability that would help you throughout your life. Some Potters have been gifted with the ability to manipulate one element or another, others with the ability to fly, or great mental prowess; even as a few have become undetectable, or able to heal any injury. Many still think that it is one of the best wishes ever made."

Harry himself was amazed, and he lost himself in thoughts of just how his life would change while within his Family's Vault. He had expected many things, true, but none of them could really match what the reality of it was, and as the Guardian of his Vault continued his explanations, he became more and more excited.

Truly, the future as he knew it, as he was afraid it would be, would be completely different.

He would make sure of it.

-o

TBC…

-o

Pickled Brains: Well, what do you lot think? I figured it was fantastical enough to be fun, and just wait till you see what's coming up next!

Oh! And if you have any suggestions for wishes that his ancestors made, or for something Harry could wish for himself, I'm open for suggestions! The possibilities, such as they are, are endless!