Harry Potter's revenge

Yep." He took another sip, and leaned back in his chair. "Let me tell you about something that is probably happening at Hogwarts, this year."

[Back to the present]

Daphne looked up at the wonky facade of Gringotts bank. A building currently holding one of the most sought after artefacts in wizarding history, the philosopher's stone. Right now though, they cared more about goblin gold than the stone.

"Shall we?" Child-Lord-Slytherin-Harry said.

"Yes." She took his arm, and together they walked into the bank, across the main floor, and up to a teller. The goblin had to lean over his desk to see them.

"Yes?"

She noticed Harry glance around before replying. "I am here to open a family vault for The Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin… along with some other related business."

The goblin raised an eyebrow.

Harry flashed him his head of house ring.

The teller drew in a sharp breath. "Please follow me."

And that was pure Harry. She was sure if any other eleven-year-old had tried that they'd have been laughed out of the bank without even a raised eyebrow. It was something about his stance and speech — it whispered 'I know what I'm doing, and I have every right to do it'.

They were led through a long series of passageways and corridors and into a well appointed waiting room. A pair of large double doors on the far side of the room opened, and they were ushered in. A large goblin wearing a pinstripe suit stood up from the far side of a desk and waved them in with an equally large, toothy grin.

"Lord Slytherin," he said, sounding happier than any goblin she'd ever encountered before. "I have been waiting for this meeting for almost two years now. Please, please sit down. We have much to discuss."

Her eyes were drawn to a small ceremonial battle-axe on the belt of the goblin's suit.

"My name is Ragnok Boneslicer of the Boneslicer Clan, and I won the right to be your vault manager two years ago."

They all took their seats.

Harry matched the goblin's grin. "Ragnok Boneslicer. May your gold flow, and your enemies fall under your blade."

She flashed her betrothed a surprised look. The Dark Lord studied goblin culture? She'd have never guessed that.

Ragnok looked mildly surprised too. "And may your enemies die in a pit of fire, and your vaults always be full…"—he grinned his toothy smile again—"something I'm hopeful will soon be true."

At this point she couldn't help herself. "Excuse me, Mister Ragnok. You said you won this account?"

Ragnok smiled at her. "In combat, young witch. With the blood of my enemies on the blade of my sword."

She shuddered.

"But that was two years ago. When the Prophet announced Lord Slytherin's ascension, it was expected you'd be at our doors in weeks. When the details of your betrothal were leaked, the clans started fighting like young'uns over a breeder. Where have you been?"

Her betrothed smiled. "I've been trying to keep a low profile for the last few years, but now that I'm about to start Hogwarts, that's no longer possible. Plus I have a large project to discuss with Gringotts."

Ragnok blinked. "About to start Hogwarts?" He sounded incredulous. "You mean… you really are as young as you look?"

"I am."

Ragnok turned to her. "And you?"

"Yes," she said. "I am Heiress Greengrass, Harry's betrothed. We're both eleven. Well, Harry is soon anyway."

He turned back to Harry. "And yet you hold a Lordship."

"I do."

Ragnok leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful. He grinned, and leaned forward again. "I like the interesting clients."

She let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding.

"Let's get this cart on the tracks then. A drop of your blood if you would, Lord Slytherin."

Harry proffered his hand and Ragnok gave him a small nick with an ornate looking dagger. The blood ran down the blade, and into a small chalice on the desk. A quill started writing.

"You mentioned another project," Ragnok prompted while the quill filled out the parchment.

"Yes. A large land purchase, building, and warding project."

"Excellent, we can discuss that in a moment. Now, let's see." Ragnok took the finished parchment, and gave it a once over. His face went white. He stared at her and Harry with the air of a cat who'd been regarding a pair of mice… a pair of mice who had just turned into a pair of wolves. He wasn't smiling. "Lord Slytherin. You took your Lordship on the thirty-first of July, 1988?"

She glanced at Harry. He looked calm as always, which was reassuring. The goblin's sudden change in demeanour was a little freaky. Had Ragnok learned something he wasn't supposed to?

"I did."

"And you were born eleven years ago, on the thirty-first of July, 1980?"

"I was."

Ragnok glanced at her before looking back to Harry, and continuing. "And you have lived for almost twenty-five years?"

Her breath hitched. Oh, Merlin. They'd been caught.

Harry was silent.

Ragnok put the parchment down, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temples.

"Lord Slytherin. Heiress Greengrass. Let me tell you a story." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Two years ago there was a minor crisis in the Goblin nation. The great accounting we call it. For centuries, Gringotts has used a standard method in all our records for determining people's ages. Blood magic. The same method used by the family magics. It's very convenient since it can't be fooled by anyone. It allows us to know the rights and ownership of many inheritances and legacies without directly intervening with the parties involved. But most importantly, it can't be changed. Not by us, not by the Wizengamot. The higher powers themselves determine the laws of magic. All our records used a person's date-of-birth, since that's what blood magic, and therefore the family magics, uses to determine age.

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