Phoenix From The Ashes

Archer sat on an uncomfortable bench in Gringotts London, glancing at his watch for the third time in the last 10 minutes. He couldn't deny that he was suffering from a little anxiety, as the big moment had finally arrived. Today was his 13th birthday, and he could finally undergo an Inheritance test.

His conversation with Renaud came back to him as reflected on the end of his second year at Beauxbatons. Like Renaud predicted, Laura had approached him at the end of the year and extended a formal offer of Apprenticeship. It was a good thing he had done his due diligence beforehand, so he had accepted on the spot.

She had been surprised at his instantaneous reply and attempted to dissuade him from rushing his decision. Only after he informed her of Renaud's guess and his research did she calm down and accept his word. They exchanged a formal Oath of Apprenticeship in her classroom the day before he left for home.

He hadn't deigned to inform anyone other than his roommates about his change of situation. They were extremely happy for him and congratulated him for his stunning accomplishment. After a small private celebration that involved several cases of buŧŧerbeer that Antonio somehow managed to sneak in, they said their goodbyes the following morning and parted ways at the portkey lounge.

His parents had been ecstatic to hear the news of his Apprenticeship with Laura, but Sofia had expressed her worry that they would effectively be losing rights to him in the magical world. He had comforted her by promising to owl Laura and invite her home so they could talk.

The conversation that immediately followed had been a tough one. He had brought up his problems with Transfiguration and how his unstable sense of self-identity was holding him back. Explaining the Inheritance ritual had Sofia shedding tears. She believed that he was dissatisfied with how they had raised him and was choosing to embrace his magical side.

It took a lot of time to explain how that wasn't the case. By the end of his explanation, his parents seemed much more understanding, but he could see that they were worried about something. He got his answer a few days later when they sat him down and spoke to him about their concerns.

"Archer. You know we have loved you since the day we first met in that orphanage. You were such a lovable child, and that feeling has only grown stronger over the years. You have become our son in all but blood. If this Inheritance ritual you talked about can help you become a better wizard, then both your father and I wholeheartedly give our consent.

However, we are worried about how this will change you. From what little we have read in our library about maturation for magicals, we know that the magic belonging to your biological family will play a huge role in your development. We only hope that once your questions are answered, you still return to us. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, my baby."

Being confronted head on with his parents' insecurities had been jarring. After all these years, he had come to know them as his mother and father. Instinctively, he knew that he had a biological family with its own history, but these kind-hearted people had taken him into their home and raised him. They had accepted his magic and been supportive in all his endeavors.

Seeing them worried about him leaving for good broke his heart. He had never thought about the alienation they must have felt from the magical world. They knew practically nothing about it except what was in their library. This dissociation from their child and the world he lived in for almost 9 months out of the year had affected them badly.

It was then that he made them a solemn promise. To never abandon them no matter what. Once he explained the significance behind his magical Oath and the punishment he would face if he dared to break it, his mother had been apoplectic. She saw it as him being reckless with his life, but he calmed her down by explaining how common such oaths were in the magical world.

In a way, it had solved all their problems. His parents knew how much he loved and appreciated them, seeing as he promised on pain of death to not abandon them. They had bonded as a family and the subject had never been broached again.

He had planned on taking the Inheritance in Britain for the simple reason that he had a good feeling about inheriting at least one traditional English family title. Even if he might not be the Prince Le Fay, he had no doubt that an important family title would fall into his ŀȧp.

Too many coincidences in his background strongly hinted that to be the case. Combined with the fact that Morgana's grimoire was located here, it was a no-brainer to choose Gringotts London as the place he conducted the ritual.

He explained his plan and some of his reasoning in a roundabout way, and his parents had accepted it at face value. They decided to make a trip out of it, seeing as they could only hold a party during the coming weekend. Instead, traveling Britain and seeing the sights was an opportunity they couldn't miss.

Today marked their second to last day in Britain, as he had no idea how the ritual might affect him and his magic. So, he had given himself a day as a buffer, to make sure that he could fully recover before heading home to France.

His eye twitched minutely as he took another glance at his watch. It had only been two minutes since the last time, and he was slowly getting annoyed. After the debacle he had faced in Gringotts Paris, he had categorically forbidden his parents to accompany him. If something went wrong, he would rather they be safe.

Surreptitiously grabbing a fold of clothing, he scratched at the area right above his heart. Today had started off with a bang, as he had jumped out of bed screaming in pain. An intense heat had emanated from his ċhėst that brought him to his knees in pain.

Jean and Sofia had rushed in to find him gripping his ċhėst in agony. They had fretted over him for several seconds and debated calling an ambulance when the pain had subsided just as quickly as it came.

Standing up, he did his best to calm them down while thinking about what exactly that feeling had been and why it felt so familiar. As he was pacifying them, their eyes had gone wide, staring at his ċhėst. .

Their odd shift in behavior had confused him. Before he could ask what was wrong, his mother dragged him in front of a mirror and pointed at his left pectoral. Focusing on the mirror, he let out a gasp as he saw what they were looking at.

There laid the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, seemingly branded into his skin.

'That's why it was so damn familiar! I've gone through this process once during my trip into the Peverell vault. Wait. The Deathly Hallows must also exist in this reality too, right? If that's the case, then how did this appear here?'

Before he could get lost in his thoughts, he was shaken from his reverie by his mother's concerned look. He had spun up a tale at hurricane speed, making things vague enough to attribute his new tattoo to "secretive family magic at work". His past was one thing he wouldn't be trusting anyone with anytime soon.

Even though they accepted his reasonable excuse, they were still anxious about letting him go alone. It was only with a lot of convincing did he get them to agree. That was how he found himself on this Merlin-forsaken bench that was so damn uncomfortable.

Fucking goblins and their vindictive bullshit. For all their talk of being a warrior race, when push came to shove, they lost almost every fight they started. The few that they didn't outright lose were pyrrhic victories at best. Now they did their darndest to make sure every single transaction was as painfully bureaucratic as possible.

Though his status as Prince Le Fay, Ally of The Nation had helped him a lot, that still hadn't made goblins like him any more than usual. They showed him a modicum of respect because he was a warrior, but he would always be just another human wand waver to them. If it came to it, they would abandon him in a heartbeat to protect their own interests, honor be damned.

That was why he had investigated other magical banks to protect his ȧssets. The gnomes in Switzerland were a popular alternative, along with the slightly less popular Dwarves in Eastern Europe. They both offered similar services and each race had their own idiosyncrasies and unique magic, much like the goblins of Gringotts.

The biggest draw, however, was their attitude. The gnomes were known to be masters at hospitality, making sure all their clients were treated with utmost respect and given swift service. The dwarves, though a little less refined in their manner, were a straight-forward and jovial race that took their honor and integrity very seriously.

Both species had never engaged in open conflict with humans due to their innately friendly nature, and despite the unscrupulous means the goblins used to try and wipe out their competition, humans protected the gnomes and dwarves. Hence, the goblins were always bitter when their clients banked with their competitors.

He was not going to make the same mistake he made in his previous reality. All it had taken were sweet whispers and a few hundred sacks of Galleons to destroy the Nation. This had thoroughly ravaged their logistical support network and been a massive strike against the Resistance.

Diversification was the word of the day. He could not afford to be caught on the back foot by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, who would no doubt try to court the goblins for their war effort. If he split his ȧssets up and spread his finances around, the failure of any one bank would not mean the crippling of his finances.

Unfortunately, due to the many treaties that were formed to somewhat appease the goblins and end their rebellions, the ICW inadvertently gave them the exclusive power of utilizing blood rituals for their client business. That meant that anyone who wanted to take an Inheritance test was restricted only to Gringotts. Despite having the means and capabilities to do so, the gnomes and dwarves were forbidden from using blood-magic to conduct their dealings.

His best bet was to see which vaults he could open and take the ones with less liquid ȧssets and move them to the dwarven bank Khazarak, and the gnomish Universal Magical Bank (UMB) respectively. The goblins would begrudge him for closing the accounts, but so long as they weren't major ones, their annoyance would be manageable. It's not like he was dependent on them for anything.

Taking a deep breath, he shifted around, trying to find a mildly comfortable position. It looked like he would be waiting for a while. He would make his displeasure known later, once it was confirmed that he could restart any accounts currently in stasis.

Shutting his eyes, he chose to go through his Occlumency exercises, but kept his senses alert for when they decided to get off their high horse and let him conduct his business. He sank into the confines of his mind, identifying the amalgam of emotions he was experiencing and divorcing himself from them.

A cold and emotionless façade would be a critical factor in the negotiations for the account closure process. They would try to steal as much as they could from him, and it was his task to give up as little as possible. It would be a tough negotiation, and he couldn't let his anger at the blatant robbery they would attempt to commit cloud his judgement.

It was some time before he finally heard his name called. Coming out of his meditative state, he gave a quick glance to his watch and noticed it had been two goddamn hours. This was undoubtedly a power play on their part.

Most likely this was them letting him know who controlled the wealth that he may or may not be entitled to. It was pointless as far as he was concerned because they would find themselves in a world of hurt if they tried anything smart. The Black Lich always lurked underneath the surface of his mind, and he was more than willing to let him out to play if the occasion called for it.

Standing up and lightly stretching out his arms and legs, he made his way towards the surly goblin that was looking at him in disgust. What exactly had he done to deserve such contempt was beyond him.

"Archer Beaufort?"

"Correct." He replied succinctly.

The goblin snorted as he narrowed his eyes. "Follow me, wizard."

They stopped in front of a slightly fading golden door. The goblin knocked once and politely spoke. "Archer Beaufort to see you, Master Bloodfang."

A rumbling voice came from behind the closed door "Enter." The goblin opened the door and signaled Archer to go inside. Walking inside he saw an office that was filled with weaponry and armor. Sitting behind an ornate mahogany desk was an elderly goblin who was looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"You may leave Swiftfoot." The younger goblin bowed as he closed the door and left.

Archer kept his cool as they both observed each other. He made sure to keep his face neutral, as he matched the elderly goblin's intensity. The silence drew out as Archer stayed standing as neither made to break the deadlock.

After what felt like an eternity, the goblin spoke. "So, you are the human boy who wants to see if he's lucky."

Archer's eyebrow raised at his statement. "Forgive me, Master Bloodfang, I'm unsure what you mean."

The goblin stood up and looked a little threatening as he bȧrėd his sharp teeth. "We get enough and more foolish humans like you. Greedy thieves who claim to be related to Merlin or some other famous human so they can steal their wealth. We have dealt with many such foolish imposters. I don't think you're any different, Archer Beaufort."

It was an insulting accusation, but Archer showed no outward signs of indignation. "Master Bloodfang, I am not here because I seek wealth. I am here to see if I can find out anything about my biological parents. Respectfully, my adoptive parents may not have magic, but they are still considered one of the richest in the world. I'm not exactly desperate to make a quick Galleon."

Bloodfang looked at him with a piercing gaze, as if trying to determine the veracity of his stated intentions. "Fine. Sit down, Mr. Beaufort. We will see if there is anything to find, though I am doubtful."

Sitting down, Archer tossed a small purse onto the desk. "Payment for the ritual. 500 Galleons, as required."

Seemingly satisfied, the goblin snatched the purse and shoved it into a drawer before retrieving a piece of parchment and a small knife. Placing the parchment on the table, he handed Archer the knife. "Slice your right index finger and drip 7 drops of blood onto the parchment. Whichever family titles you inherit, if any, will be listed."

Taking the knife from Bloodfang, he quickly made a cut on his finger as he held it above the parchment. The first drop of blood was big and splattered a little as it landed. The subsequent 6 were much smaller. The first thing he did after he was done was ask permission to draw his wand.

"May I draw my wand to clean up?" The goblin nodded and Archer flicked out his wand and cast a quick Healing charm on his finger before vanishing the small droplets of blood on the knife. He had had lessons on the importance of keeping his blood safe. Morgana had suggested a ritual to protect his blood, but he had ignored it until now. Seems like he should do it before something bad happened.

Almost immediately after the 7th drop, the parchment glowed an eerie blood-red before the droplets spread out and started to form words. Within 10 seconds the parchment stopped glowing, leaving several titles written on it.

Bloodfang was staring at it in wonder. It must have been the first time someone inherited the Heirship of a family. Taking the sheet, Bloodfang saw the names written on it and his eyebrows started climbing higher as he read on. Archer tamped down his curiosity and let him read the parchment first.

After some time passed, the goblin looked at him. "It seems that you are quite an interesting client, Mr. Beaufort." He handed Archer the paper. He started reading and his surprise grew as he went down the list. However, he made sure to keep his expression blank, as there was no need to give the goblin any advantage.

Bloodfang continued talking as Archer processed what he was seeing on the paper. "My heartiest congratulations. You are the Heir Primus to the Black, Peverell, Rosier, Romanov, and Grindelwald families. You are no doubt going to become a VIP client of Gringotts in the future."

He suffered a bit of a shock at seeing such prominent family names on the parchment. He expected maybe a minor family, but not ones as prestigious as Black or Rosier. The biggest surprise to him was the Grindelwald family. He was related to Gellert?

Bloodfang interrupted his thoughts. "You are currently able to take up the Heirship of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Rosier without any issue. The last remaining male of the main line in Britain died during the Blood War, and the account has been in stasis since.

It is a similar situation for the Peverell Heirship, except no one has ever been deemed worthy of claiming it since the family line ended with a daughter that eventually married into another family. The Lordship is a ceremonial title with only the legal benefits, seeing as the family's Wizengamot seat was given as dowry to the Potter family.

I am unsure of the Romanov Heirship, as that question can only be answered by the family's Account Manager in Gringotts Moscow. All I know is that the account has been in stasis for decades since the last main line Romanov's death. Though the family does have many living relatives, none of them are magical, hence they were unable to access the wealth stored in the Romanov vaults.

Regarding the Black Heirship, you must first contact the current Lord Black, Sirius Black III, and receive his acknowledgement before taking your place as the Heir Black. Only with his willing approval will the family magic officially accept you.

You can take up the Heirship of the Grindelwald family in Gringotts Berlin, but I would highly advise you against doing that right now, as it would be harmful to you should news of your status leak."

Archer wasn't stupid or greedy enough to immediately claim the Grindelwald family fortune. Merlin knows he would be hunted down by those who were wronged by Gellert decades ago. The scar he left on Europe has not been forgotten to this day. Outing himself as a descendant would put a large target on his back. He was curious about one thing, though.

"You don't have to worry about that, seeing as I don't intend on claiming the Grindelwald Heirship anytime soon. I was wondering if the Nation has a method to map a family tree. I want to understand how I came to inherit these titles."

Bloodfang snorted dismissively. "Mr. Beaufort, contrary to popular belief, the Nation does not care to keep track of wizard ancestry. The Inheritance Ritual simply uses the blood of a magical to determine the presence of any latent family magics within. You humans seem to stress upon lineage and ancestry quite a bit, so I'm sure the families will have their own methods of keeping track."

It made sense, seeing as he remembered the Black family tapestry, along with all the burn marks dotting the fabric. That would tell him how he came to inherit the Black Heirship and would shed light on his lineage. However, that tapestry was limited to only information on his Black ancestry, and not any others.

He would have to explore the vaults of each family and determine if they had some sort of tracker that could help him piece together who his parents were and his family history. This knowledge would be helpful in forming a solid sense of self-identity so he could make use of complex Transfiguration and possibly Reality-Distortion magic.

'Okay. My finances are split between multiple Gringotts institutions across the European continent. That makes things a little harder, but I'm sure I can make it work. Maybe move the Romanov account to Khazarak, and the Peverell account to UMB. Now let the fun begin.'

"I intend to take up both the Rosier and Peverell Heirships forthwith and will seek out Lord Black at a later date."

Bloodfang nodded and tapped his desk before growling out something in the goblin language. He had never made the effort to learn, seeing as it wouldn't have been useful. Ragnok was an alright friend, but that was mainly due to him being respectful to a fellow royal.

"Taking up the Rosier Heirship will be a simple affair, as I have called the family's Account Manager, who will bring the Heir ring for you to try on. The Peverell Heirship, on the other hand, is a little more complicated."

"How exactly is it more complicated? Be precise if you can." Archer incisively replied.

Bloodfang growled lowly. "We do not possess the ring. They were a very secretive family who didn't trust us with ensuring their family rings were passed on. The only way to possibly retrieve it would be to enter the Peverell vault, find the ring and gain the approval of the family magic."

Archer nodded. "Fine. If that is what it takes, then that is exactly what I'll do."

Bloodfang gave an eerie smile. "You think it's that simple, wizard? The Peverell family was one of the first 10 families to open a Gringotts vault. They were given the privilege of warding and implementing their own security measures.

Despite the Nation having the best Cursebreakers in the world, not a single one has ever been able to breach the wards of any of the First 10 vaults. You might just die a horrible death if you dare to take it lightly."

"I'm not too worried about it, seeing as I am the rightful Heir to the family. Whatever security measures they put in will not affect me." Archer confidently stated.

Their back and forth was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. "Bloodfang! You better not be wasting my time!"

"Come in Silverclaw. I have the newly discovered Heir to the Rosier account with me." Bloodfang bellowed.

The door burst open as a goblin holding a large leather book barged inside. "If you are lying to me Bloodfang, you will regret it for the rest of your numbered days." Silverclaw snarled as he observed him.

"You are the new Heir Rosier? Not exactly what I was expecting. What's your name, human?"

"Archer Beaufort. A pŀėȧsurė to meet you, Account Manager Silverclaw." Archer replied in a respectful but neutral tone.

"A Frenchman. How interesting. It seems like the title was handed off to the French branch after the last English Rosier passed." He muttered as he took out a box from his pocket.

"This box contains the Rosier Heir ring. To take up the Heirship, you must first open the lock with your blood and then slip on the ring. The family magics will judge if you are worthy of the title and if they accept you, the ring will resize to fit your finger. Any questions?"

Archer shook his head.

"Good. Let's finish this quickly. Time is money after all, and all that gold has been sitting there for too long."

Taking the box from Silverclaw, he held the lock tightly and felt a light pinch as a needle exited from its body and absorbed some of his blood. After a couple of seconds, light clicks resounded throughout the silent room. The lock and latches snapped open and the box opened, revealing a splendid looking ring inside.

Nestled in between the folds of acromantula silk, laid a stunningly detailed and ancient looking ring. The band was pure platinum, and the face of the ring had the Rosier coat of arms with stunningly bright emeralds dotted across the engravings.

Retrieving it from its velvet confinement, he slipped it onto his left middle finger. Almost immediately, he felt an uncomfortable sensation as his soul was examined by the Rosier family magic. The magic around him roiled and twisted as it slowly coalesced into the figure of a fairy, the Rosier family totem. The newly formed fairy fluttered around as it inspected him closely.

After several seconds, it came close to him and gave him a light kiss on his forehead before dissipating into glittering shards of magic that vanished before landing on the ground. The ring started shrinking as it formed a snug fit onto his finger.

Silverclaw had a toothy grin on his face as he observed the proceedings. The Beaufort child had managed to gain the family totem's approval, which meant that he was now officially the Heir Rosier. Finally, after more than a decade of stagnation, the account would be unfrozen, and he could start making a profit again.

Archer heard Silverclaw moving towards him and saw the grin on his face.

"Congratulations, Heir Rosier. I request we continue this conversation in my office, as it pertains to confidential family matters."

Archer nodded and briefly turned around to address Bloodfang. "I want a certified copy of the results. What is the fee?"

"10 Galleons, Heir Rosier." Bloodfang replied.

Archer retrieved 20 Galleons from his purse and put them down in two piles. "For the certified copy, and your time."

Bloodfang smirked as he grabbed the two piles. "The paperwork will be sent to Silverclaw's office, Heir Rosier. You may leave."

Archer accompanied Silverclaw out the door and along a labyrinthine route to his office. They finally arrived at their destination and Silverclaw opened the door while beckoning him inside. They walked towards the desk and he waited to take a seat as was protocol.

"Have a seat, Heir Rosier. There is a decent amount of paperwork we will need to get through to reactivate the Rosier accounts. After the stunt the Ministry pulled, we made it much more difficult to attempt ȧsset seizure, which means multiple forms and documents that require your signature, in triplicate."

Archer took a seat and got straight to the point. "I hope that we can finish this business quickly, as I intend to take up another Heirship after this one."

"May I ask which Heirship that is?" Silverclaw raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"That is irrelevant as of now. If the situation changes, I'll let you know." Archer firmly stated, indicating the end of that line of questioning.

Silverclaw huffed. "So be it, Heir Rosier. Here are all the documents that require your signature. We will need to go through each one and the final three will require you to utilize a blood quill to sign."

The words blood quill triggered an instinctive violent response within his mind, seeing as Umbitch had tortured him with one for an entire year. He had never handled another one since, but it looked like there was no choice in this situation. Swallowing his considerable rage, he spoke.

"That is fine with me. Let us get on with it, time is money after all."

Silverclaw smirked. "Well, well. You are full of surprises aren't you, Heir Rosier?"

Archer gave a small smile. "You can call me Archer, Account Manager Silverclaw. Heir Rosier is a bit of a mouthful. Before we begin, I need you to make an Oath that there are no hidden clauses in this pile of forms and documents that will affect my magic, status, health, etc. It is important to be careful when dealing with official documents, after all."

Silverclaw growled. "An Oath. You ask quite a bit for a puny human whelp. I have been the Rosier Account Manager for longer than you were alive, boy. For decades I have discharged my duties with honor and brought profit to the family and my clan. You dare to question me?!"

Archer coldly replied. "I only met you five minutes ago. Why in Merlin's name would you think I trust that you have my best interests at heart? Whatever measly riches lie in the Rosier vault are of no interest to me.

My other Heirships are all quite sizable, not to mention my adoptive family is one of the richest in the world. In fact, they are richer than several Ancient and Noble families. I have no need to unfreeze the Rosier account because I could live for the rest of my life without having to touch it.

Just because I took up the Heirship does not mean I am obligated to unfreeze the account. So, what will it be Silverclaw? The Oath? Or do I walk out of your office and be on my merry way. Remember who exactly you're talking to before you insult me."

Silverclaw was caught flat-footed by his aggressive response. No doubt the goblin had never experienced a client fight back like this. British magicals had no choice but to take whatever crap the goblins spewed, seeing as Gringotts had a banking monopoly in the country. He had no such limitations, so he didn't bother pulling punches. If Silverclaw tried to start something, he would match him blow for blow.

He put up a stubborn front for several seconds, increasing the tension in the room by magnitudes. In the end, he gave a sigh before holding up his hand. "I, Silverclaw Earthrender hereby swear on my life and honor, that the documents I am asking the Heir Rosier Archer Beaufort to sign, will not negatively affect his health, magic, status in any way. They will only unfreeze the Rosier accounts. This I swear."

"So mote it be." Archer completed as the magic around them flared before settling down, signifying the acceptance of the Oath.

It took them half an hour of constant signing and initialing before the veritable heap of paperwork was finished. He had decided to shut up and deal with the stinging pain of the blood quill and not complain. It would move things along faster and meant that he could enter the Peverell vault earlier.

After all the paperwork was finished, he had a quick talk with Silverclaw before leaving.

"What percentage of the profits are you currently receiving from the Rosier account?"

"1 percent. Seeing as it was a frozen account and there were bȧrėly any profits being generated, I was not allowed to take any more. When it was active in the 1970's I was receiving 3 percent." Silverclaw spoke cautiously.

Archer nodded and imperiously declared. "You have my permission to increase your commission to 5 percent and if you do a good job we can discuss raising it even further."

Silverclaw's eyes glinted with poorly hidden greed. "That is most generous of you, Heir Rosier. I have a feeling that relationship will be quite the profitable one."

Archer narrowed his eyes and lightly flared his magic. "I'm trusting you on this Silverclaw, seeing as you were willing to give me an Oath about the account reactivation paperwork, even if I forced your hand. I can be very generous to those who do right by me. However, if you betray my trust, know that you will suffer my displeasure."

Silence reigned in the room as human and goblin stared at each other unblinkingly. For several seconds, nothing happened, until Silverclaw finally nodded his head. It was at that moment that a knock on the door broke the silence. His escort to the Peverell vault had arrived.

Archer said nothing as he alighted from his chair and walked out of the office. Opening the door, he was greeted by a young goblin that he remembered clearly. Griphook the Usurper stood before him with a contemptuous look on his face.

"I am here to escort you to the Peverell vault. If you are done with your business, let us be on our way."

Archer chose to not acknowledge him and simply walk out of the room. This did not sit well with the goblin as he snarled at the dismissal. Nevertheless, he started guiding him to the cart station. They didn't bother saying a single word to each other as they made their way to their destination. There was no point.

Archer was fuming as he remembered the chaos and desperation this little shit had caused the Resistance with his selfishness. It was extremely tempting to want to kill him and potentially solve an issue that could crop up in the future, but he had to hold himself back. It would not do to antagonize the goblins while he still had need of their services.

They reached the cart and entered the closest free one. Griphook manipulated a few levers and the cart jerked into action, sending them hurtling down the rickety tracks leading to the subterranean levels.

It was a ride he distinctly remembered from his first trip to the Peverell vault. The pathway the cart took seemed to be the same, but he couldn't help but feel a little anxious at the thought of the security measures.

He could only hope they were the same, as he didn't know what would happen if things didn't work out. Hell, the background of the Peverell family might be completely different in this reality.

'Well I guess I'll find out soon enough.' He thought as the cart made the final sharp turn into the straight that led into the cavern that housed the First 10 vaults.

After slowly traveling past a few vaults, each with different crests and markings, they stopped in between the fifth and fourth vaults. Griphook made his way off the cart and walked towards a torch that was mounted on the wall.

He gave the end of the blackened end of the torch a sharp swipe, causing a small spark to ignite it. A warm orange flame lit up their surroundings. Archer followed him off the cart.

"We will make our way to Vault number 4, the Peverell vault on foot." He gruffly spoke before starting the journey there without any further clarification.

Archer just quietly followed him, not trusting himself to speak up. If the security measures were the same as last time, the Draconis Mortem, the Death Dragons would be there guarding the front of the vault. A single, powerful, wandless Banishing charm could finish the job well enough.

The only problem was that the goblins would do their best to make things difficult for him and he didn't trust that their interrogation methods would inflict a lot of harm against him. This would be especially true if they thought he had killed a goblin of Gringotts. Say what you will about the greedy buggers, but they stuck up for their own.

As they neared the vault, he felt a feeling of dread in the air. It looked like he was correct in his ȧssumption, as he felt the distinct presence of the Death Dragons increase with every step they took.

Out of the blue, Griphook stopped. "This is as far as I go, wizard. You must now venture forth and confront the security measures of the family. Should you pass through, by some fluke, finish your business in a timely manner and come out. I don't have all day to waste."

For the first time since they met, Archer spoke. "I understand. I will try to finish quickly."

Griphook gave a dismissive snort in reply.

Archer cleared his mind and started making his way forward. Upon arriving at the vault, he saw the Death Dragons up close. They looked like a cross between a Peruvian Vipertooth and a Thestral. Small, with leathery skin and wings. Their eyes were the most disturbing feature, as instead of pale white eyes with no pupils as was usual among Thestrals, the dragons' eyes glowed with an eerie pale blue fire.

Archer stilled for a moment, before regaining his confidence as he walked towards the vault entrance. The dragons looked really intimidating and for the briefest moment, he thought he was going to be burned to ashes. Stopping just in front of the dragons, who started sniffing the air as he came to a halt, he spoke loudly and clearly.

"My name is Archer Beaufort, Heir Presumptive of House Peverell. I demand entrance to the family vault so I may access my rightful heritage." The dragons stilled for a moment as their pale white eyes zeroed in on him. A couple of long sniffs and short huffs of white fire later, they glanced at each other before they laid back down and didn't mind him anymore.

Giving them a quick bow, he made his way past them and toward the vault. There was an indentation in the shape of a hand on the vault door, so Archer did what he had done last time. He put his hand on the indentation.

He felt five sharp pin pricks as he whipped his hand away from the door, cursing under his breath. Even after experiencing it once, it still hurt more than he thought it should. Five small, blood coated needles were present in each finger of the indentation.

Seconds passed as nothing happened. Suddenly, the handprint flashed as the needles withdrew and the vault door started creaking open. He could see inside the vault and the sight surprised him. A vault belonging to a family as notorious and ancient as the Most Ancient and Noble House of Peverell should have had wealth greater than the Blacks.

All he saw were three ċhėsts on the back wall and a book on a pedestal in the center of the vault. The book was enclosed in a glass case that looked to have runes all over its surface. No doubt they were deadly to anyone who tried to take the grimoire by force.

He started making his way into the vault only to walk into a wall of jelly. He felt he was being pushed back but resisted as he pressed forward. As he finally made his way through, a portrait on the right side of the vault called out to him.

"Hello there, young man. May I know who you are?"

Archer gave a smile as he recognized the man from his old reality. "Hello, I am your descendant and designated Heir Primus to the family, Archer Beaufort. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Peverell."

The man in the portrait smiled. "Well met, Archer Beaufort. My name is Ignotus Peverell. I ȧssume you are here to secure the Heir ring?"

"You are indeed correct in your ȧssumption, Mr. Peverell. I was informed by the goblins that the only way to take my place as the Heir Peverell was to open this vault and locate the ring" Archer answered.

Ignotus looked at him with twinkling eyes. A pensieve materialized in front of him, and he said "Place all of your memories inside this Pensieve and I shall view all of it. If I judge you to be of sound character, you shall be able to take the grimoire's test. If you hold anything back, I will know, and you will be blocked from ever entering this vault again by the family magic."

Without any hesitation, Archer drew his wand and started summoning his memories to the forefront of his mind. It took a solid 10 minutes for him to get practically two lifetimes worth of memories out of his head.

The end of his wand held what could only be described as a unicorn's tail with how densely the wispy strands were packed together. Depositing them in the pensieve, he waited patiently, knowing this would take a while. The last time he went through this process, it took 10 minutes for roughly 17 years of memories.

Now, he had nearly 27 years' worth from his old reality, plus another 13 in this reality. It would take a decent amount of time for Ignotus to process all of it and sort them out. He started going through his Occlumency exercises as he awaited the final verdict. He was confident of gaining the recognition of both Ignotus and the family magics.

Twenty minutes later, he came out of his trance gazing upon him in wonder. "My, my, the legend was true after all. Proceed to the grimoire's test with my blessing Archer Beaufort, or should I say, Harrison James Potter."

Archer replied. "I am Harry and Harry is me. In this reality however, I prefer Archer. As you no doubt witnessed, my previous life was quite traumatizing and hard for me to accept after crossing over. I have fully embraced my identity as Archer Beaufort, regardless of my past."

Ignotus smiled as the pensieve disappeared. "You have faced far more in your youth than I could have imagined. Despite all odds, you grew to become a powerful yet humble man who sacrificed himself to save the rest of humanity. That is something to be proud of. Go forth, son of the Peverell family. Claim that which is rightfully yours."

As he finished speaking, the glass case covering the black book on the pedestal in the middle of the vault melted away. Giving Ignotus a polite nod and thank you, he made his way to the pedestal where the grimoire rested.

The moment his hand made contact, he found himself in a pure white room. Turning around, he saw the figure of the woman he sorely missed. She had trained him, guided him, and even sacrificed herself to save him. Despite all his efforts, tears pooled in his eyes as he gazed upon her features once again.

Morgana Le Fay stood in front of him in all her resplendent beauty, looking at him with a gentle smile on her face. "Hello Harrison, it is wonderful to finally meet you. I see you trained with my counterpart in your reality. I can feel the love and respect you held for her, and I hope to one day earn that same privilege."

Archer swiped at his eyes. "Hello Morgana. Do you mind if I call you Morgana?"

"Of course, Harrison. Do you prefer Harrison? Or your new name, Archer?" she inquired.

Archer smiled. "I prefer Archer, as I have accepted my past and shed my previous identity as Harrison James Potter."

She gave a graceful nod. "Then I will refer to you as Archer henceforth. I'm sure you have many questions. However, I ask that you save them for later, seeing as we are still inside Gringotts. Our conversation is best left for when you are in a safe place."

Archer nodded. "It was great to see you again, Morgana."

Morgana walked forward and gave him a light hug. "It was nice to meet you as well, Archer. Before you leave, we must complete the rite."

Stepping back, she started chanting. "On my magic and name as Morgana Le Fay, Queen of Camelot, Empress of Avalon, and Protector of the Realm, I bestow upon you, Archer Beaufort, the title of Prince Le Fay."

Her deep purple irises blazed with power as the room shuddered around them. "Do you, Archer Beaufort, swear on your magic and life to protect the realm and all magicals that dwell within it?"

Instinctively, Archer went down on one knee before confidently stating "I do, Your Majesty."

Morgana continued. "Do you swear on your magic and life, to uphold the traditions and laws of the Exalted and Royal House Le Fay till the day your soul makes its journey to the Great Beyond?"

Once again, Archer replied in the positive. "I do, Your Majesty."

"Do you swear on your magic and life, to uphold the sanctity of the Veil and fight against the evils that lurk in the Chaos should they ever infiltrate our world?"

This one jolted him out of his trance. 'The Veil? She wants me to guard our dimension from the demons?'

Nonetheless, he responded in the positive to continue the ritual. "I do, Your Majesty."

"So you have sworn, so mote it be. May Mother Magic guide you to greatness." A bright corona of purple magic surrounded them as she chanted in Latin.

"Quaerere statera in omnibus (Seek balance in all things)."

As she finished speaking, the ring of magic briefly flared before forming a funnel that led directly to him. Archer felt his body temperature soar as he grunted in pain. He dropped to all fours as he absorbed the Le Fay family magic.

He could feel its presence, bombarding his soul as it thrashed around. He steadfastly kept his mouth shut as he bore the pain. Even Voldemort's Cruciatus hurt less than this feeling, but he had learned to manage the pain admirably, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing his screams.

After what seemed like an eternity of torture, the pain slowly subsided. As he recovered from the ordeal, he heard an imperious hoot. Rubbing the tears out of his eyes, he saw an owl made of magic in front of him. It's large eyes pierced into his soul as it judged his worth.

Despite the pain he had yet to recover from, he met the owl's gaze and didn't break eye contact. The owl gave a soft hoot before flying onto his shoulder and nuzzling him. A tired smile adorned his face as he reveled in the feeling of warmth and comfort its actions brought him.

Closing his eyes, he felt himself surrounded by the Le Fay family magic. It was no longer violent and tempestuous, now blanketing him in a way that gave a sense of belonging. As he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Morgana's outstretched hand.

Taking it, he felt himself pulled up and into her arms. "Thank you so much for trusting me, Archer. I look forward to teaching you all that I know. After all, you were deemed worthy of my knowledge by my counterpart. I'd like to think I'm a stellar judge of character regardless of the reality I find myself in." She finished with a mischievous wink.

Archer was stunned at the abrupt shift in character. His Morgana had been a warm and caring yet severe mentor that expected nothing but excellence. She was a harsh taskmaster that did not care much for humor or levity regardless of the situation.

This reality's Morgana seemed much more open and affectionate. There was also an underlying slyness that made him question whether he could treat her like the Morgana he had trained under. For all he knew, their backgrounds could vastly differ, molding them into two different people irrespective of their shared looks.

As he was pondering about Morgana, he felt a slight tingle on his left hand. Looking down, he saw a ring manifest onto his pointer finger. The ring in question was formed from mithril and had a black engraving of an owl with purple diamonds for eyes and its wings extended, bridging two lines on either side forming the letter M. He sighed in admiration as he gazed upon the personal seal of Morgana Le Fay once more.

As Queen of Camelot, her family had been invested by Arthur with the title of Exalted and Royal, indicating their status as members of the kingdom's Royal family. As Morgana was the most prominent member of the new House Le Fay, she was given the privilege of designing the ring that would be passed down to her Heir.

The family's magical totem took the shape of black owl with purple eyes. Hence, Morgana used it as part of the new sigil. The ring was crafted by the Nation's most skilled blacksmiths, engravers, and jewelers. It was presented to the royal family as tribute for their allowance of the formation of Gringotts bank and the gift of land to the Nation.

They used the rarest magical metal in the world, mithril, for the base. Then the engravers masterfully engraved the sigil onto the face of the ring. After they were finished, the jewelers painstakingly sourced the purest purple diamonds they could find and set them into the eyes of the owl engraving. Even if the ring weren't blessed by the Le Fay family magic, it would still be considered a priceless masterwork.

Morgana lightly cleared her throat. "I know the ring is beautiful, but I must bring your attention to a few things. Firstly, to complete this ritual, you must undergo the Le Fay family's rite of passage, which involves the blood of the current Head of House. A sealed vial of my own blood has been kept in stasis in one of the trunks present in the vault. Take all of them with you, as they contain items you will find helpful in your quest.

The ring will not display my personal seal unless you want it to do so. It will take the form of the Peverell family ring so as to not expose your status to those you do not want finding out."

Archer nodded. "I will, Morgana. Thank you for giving me the title once more."

Morgana smiled in response and shimmered out of existence.

Before he knew it, he found himself back in the vault. Ignotus was beaming at him. No doubt he had noticed the change in his magic from the Heirship ritual. He straightened up before bowing low at the waist with his hand on his heart. "It is an honor to greet you, Prince Le Fay. May the Mother guide you in your quest for balance."

Archer nodded and asked. "What exactly is in these trunks? I never really bothered with finding out in my last life, as my focus lay elsewhere with the war effort."

"I wouldn't know if the contents would be the same in both realities, but these trunks contain what was left of the family fortune after giving the Potter family a substantial dowry, along with the library, and several magical ingredients. Our family specialized in crafting magical artifacts, so there are some priceless ingredients in there."

"Magical artifacts? Not necromantic magic?" Archer was surprised by the change.

Ignotus scowled. "While that might have been the case in your old world, nobody in their right mind dabbles in the Black Arts in this one, young Prince. Such magic that violates the sanctity of life and the natural order is strictly forbidden. Any attempts to use such magic will cause the person using it to lose all access to their family magic."

Archer hummed. "I see. I apologize if I insulted you."

"There was no insult intended, your Highness. There is nothing for you to apologize for" Ignotus shook his head as he replied.

With a clear plan in mind, Archer went over to the trunks and shrunk them one by one, storing them in his pocket. Before he shrunk the last one, he abruptly turned to Ignotus' portrait. "Say Ignotus, would you be willing to accompany me? I daresay staying asleep in this vault would be quite boring."

Ignotus grinned. "That sounds lovely, Your Highness. I accept your kind offer. This portrait can be magically shrunken down, and I'll go to sleep while you store me in the trunk. Once you find a place for me, you can wake me up with a tap of your wand."

Archer nodded and went over to the portrait. A quick Shrinking charm brought it down to the size of a playing card. Storing it carefully within the trunk, Archer proceeded to shrink the trunk and store it with the others in his pocket.

Walking out of the vault, Archer nodded to the dragons and made his way back to Griphook. The goblin had a slightly wide-eyed expression on his face. He probably thought the dragons would feast upon his corpse. Not to mention, judging from the states of the vaults they passed on the way, he was most likely the first in a very long time to successfully open one of them.

Seeing his amused smirk, Griphook quickly corrected his expression. "To think a human brat like you was worthy to open the Peverell vault. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Archer gave a knowing smile that he knew would piss the goblin off. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't." It was fun being the one with several hidden cards.

"Arrogant whelp. There was probably nothing in there worth mentioning. They were after all known to be a poor family, seeing as no goblin wanted to be their Account Manager."

It was a clever tactic on Griphook's part, but one he saw from a mile away. Insulting the family to try and wheedle information on the contents of the vaults from wizards who were proud of their family history. While he was indeed proud of his family and its infamy, he was not going to let the goblin goad him into spilling any pertinent information.

"You're absolutely right, Griphook. There were no Galleons in the vault whatsoever. In fact, I think it would be better to close the account, seeing as there's nothing left in the vault anyway." The wealth of the family was stored in the trunks and not directly in the vault as one would see in a modern family, so technically the claim wasn't an outright lie.

Griphook grunted. "If you wish to close the account, you will have to speak to his Highness Ragnok. He is the one in charge of the First 10 vaults."

Archer frowned. Dealing with Ragnok wasn't something he wanted to do right now. He could close the account another time then. He wasn't exactly in a hurry, and the goblins had no clue about the massive transfer he had conducted.

"I guess I'll wait for another time then, I have better things to do then bother with an old vault without any Galleons in it."

Griphook got onto the cart and grudgingly waited for him to board. They rocketed back up the tracks to the main lobby and after a few minutes filled with high speed twists and turns, they arrived.

Getting off the cart, he bid the goblin farewell and casually walked out of Gringotts with the wealth of the Peverell family in his pockets. He meandered down Diagon Alley with a smile on his face.

The Alley was full of life and nothing like the dreary hellscape he had walked into before his final duel with Voldemort. Children ran around while laughing merrily, street vendors advertised their wares, and he could see several Hogwarts age children shopping for their supplies.

On the far side of the Alley, in the direction Archer was walking, four girls were enjoying some ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Rose Potter, Bianca Black, and their best friends Susan Bones and Hermione Granger were chatting about what they learned during their trip to Flourish and Blotts.

"Can you believe we're going to be taught by Gilderoy Lockhart himself?! Oh Merlin I can just imagine those big strong arms of his guiding me through the wand movements of a spell. You can't tell from a distance, but his hair is so silky and shiny. I wonder what products he uses? Or maybe it's a spell he created himself?"

Bianca kept rattling on and on about Lockhart and his admittedly handsome features. Rose on the other hand, was feeling moody as she reflected on her first year at Hogwarts. She had been looking forward to attending for so many years, but now that sense of wonder and excitement had taken a backseat.

In the beginning of the year, she had a tiff with Malfoy during Flying class over a Remembrall belonging to her friend Neville. Malfoy had tossed it away, sending it hurtling towards the castle walls. She remembered focusing hard on it and instinctively maneuvering her broom to intercept it.

After she managed to catch it, her Head of House, Professor McGonagall, had taken her to meet the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood. After a quick test, she was officially drafted onto the team as Seeker, becoming the youngest in a hundred years.

While her mother hadn't been very happy about it, her father had shouted it from the rooftops for everyone to hear. By the next day, every Auror in the department knew how she had inherited her father's talent for the game and that she was a natural, "just like her old man". He had gone so far as to purchase the best racing broom on the market, the Nimbus 2000, and sent it to her the very next day.

Draco had cried about how it was unfair that a skilled player like him hadn't been scouted by the Slytherin team when a "half-blood like her'' was playing. She had shut him and every one of her naysayers up by showing exactly how skilled she was on the pitch.

Through both immense talent and dedicated practice, for the first time in years, Gryffindor managed to win the Quidditch Cup. McGonagall had been over the moon when she was handed the trophy to display in her office.

On the flip side, while she had been elated to make the house team, not everything had gone as she intended. Unknown to nearly everyone, the wraith of Voldemort had possessed her DADA teacher and tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Headmaster Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, had decided that a school full of children was the best place to protect something Voldemort desperately wanted.

It had not even occurred to him until Rose herself had confronted the literally two-faced Quirinus Quirrell at the end of the year, that Voldemort had even been in the castle. She still remembered her mother verbally ripping him a new one when her parents had been called after her hospitalization.

Her father had been a mix of fear and pride. He didn't want to see anything bad happen to her, but the fact that she had the courage to stand up to the most feared Dark Lord in modern history at 11 made him proud beyond belief. To everyone in the know, she was a credit to her house.

Even with all the accolades she had achieved, including O's in all subjects, she couldn't help but feel anxious about the coming year. Everyone thought Voldemort had perished during his attack in Godric's Hollow in 1981. Seeing evidence of his survival firsthand had changed her.

Confronting a supposedly dead Dark Lord was a daunting prospect. It had been an adrenaline-fueled, spur of the moment decision that would likely traumatize her for the rest of her life. She hadn't been able to stare at or think about fire without shaking like a leaf for at least a month.

She supposed it came with the territory of literally burning a man to ashes. Her parents and Dumbledore all tried to convince her of her innocence in that regard, but she knew in her heart that she had killed Quirrell. It didn't matter what anyone else said.

It was only after several sessions with a Mind Healer that she came back out of the shell she had built around herself. Her family and friends had provided a supportive environment for her, and she was eternally grateful for it.

As she sat eating the delicious Cookies and Cream flavored ice cream surrounded by her best friends, she felt at peace. They had helped her so much last year, and she felt confident that no matter what happened, they would be there for her this year as well.

A sharp nudge disrupted her chain of thoughts as she scowled at Bianca. What was weird was how silent Bianca had gone, along with her eyes were popping out of their sockets. She fiercely whispered "Oh dear Merlin. Total hottie alert. Our 2 o'clock. Get a load of that hunk."

She and the girls turned around, trying to find who exactly Bianca was talking about. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and she was about to ask Bianca for clarification when her breath momentarily halted upon gazing at a lone figure among the throng of people.

Walking down the main street was a boy that looked out of place from his surroundings. There was an aristocratic grace in the way he seemed to glide down the Alley. He looked like he would fit in perfectly at one of those stuffy Pureblood soirees her parents attended.

There was a sense of confidence and purpose in his steps as he weaved in and out of the bustling crowd. There was also a certain swagger in his gait that drew her eye, one that told her that he was someone powerful and he knew it.

He was wearing stylish Muggle clothing. Black leather Chelsea boots with black jeans, a crisp white tee with a light grey denim jacket on top. Dangling on a silver chain around his neck was a pendant of a compass rose, and on his wrist was a shiny silver watch that she recognized as a Rolex due to her father's collection at home.

He looked slightly older than them, but not by much. One thing she immediately noticed was how handsome he was, even by Pureblood standards. He walked like one of those muggle male models in a fashion show that Bianca had shown her on the telly.

Turning to face the girls, Rose saw how out of it they looked. Hermione's jaw had unconsciously dropped as she stared at the boy. Susan was no better, but her Pureblood upbringing kept her reaction muted in comparison. Bianca's expression was one she was very familiar with, as the girl often ŀȧpsed into daydreams during their study sessions before she had to snap her out of it.

Rose could admit that she too had been stunned by the boy's looks, but surely her friends were being a touch dramatic, right? It was then that something happened. The boy in question stopped and turned to face them with a smirk on his face.

Hermione and Susan ducked their heads down in embarrassment at being caught looking. Bianca still had her head in the clouds, so she hadn't even realized she had been noticed. Rose looked at him and for a second, the world around her stopped. His green eyes glittered like emeralds in the afternoon sun as she momentarily lost herself in them. What was happening to her?

He gave her a brilliant smile that highlighted his perfect, white teeth. With a roguish wink, he moved out of sight and before she knew what was happening, he was gone like the wind. Rose was stunned by his disappearance and looked around, trying to spot him again. Not spotting him at all, she went back to her now slightly melted ice cream and snapped Bianca out of her daydream.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about their encounter replete with many giggles and squeals. Rose didn't participate much, as she was lost in her thoughts, thinking about what had occurred between her and the boy.

There was something about him that felt familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. By the next morning, she had all but forgotten the encounter, brushing it off as nothing important. Little did she know how wrong she was.

Archer had been walking towards the Leaky Cauldron when he slowed his pace, as a feeling of being watched overtook him. Subtly turning to face the glass window of a nearby shop, his eyes flickered across the reflection, searching for his observers. Tucked away in the corner of the glass, he saw a small group of girls looking at him from an outdoor table at Fortescue's.

Deciding to be a bit playful, he abruptly turned to face them with a knowing smirk. This move had the intended effect, as he saw two of them get flustered and look down. The other two reacted differently. One had a thousand-yard stare while the other kept looking at him, and he recognized her immediately. How could he not?

Staring at him was Rose Lily Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived and her friend. Their eyes locked onto each other and for a second, the noises of the Alley all faded away. It was a mind-boggling experience to look at what was essentially a female version of himself (or his previous self?). He would never have expected to run into her like this.

She seemed to have noticed the odd effect as well, as she looked curiously at him. So he flashed a brilliant smile and threw in a wink for good measure. Her eyes widened and before she could respond in kind, he ducked behind an incoming family and silently Disapparated back to his hotel room. They would get to know each other eventually, but now was not the time.

Greeting his parents, who were shocked at his instantaneous appearance in the middle of the room, he went back to his room and started packing. He let his father know that his business was finished and that they could go back home, so Jean called the private airport they had landed at and scheduled the family's flight back to France.

They landed in France that same night and once he reached his room, he retrieved Ignotus' portrait from the trunk and mounted it on the wall. Waking Ignotus up with a tap of his wand, he spoke to him for a little while before heading to bed.

As he predicted, he entered the dream realm and met Morgana. "Welcome back, Archer. I know you are familiar with how this space works, so I won't bother explaining it to you again. Before we can really start your official training, I will give you some background on the Le Fay family, but more specifically, my life. To truly build a sense of self-identity, you must learn and understand the true history of your ancestors, one of whom, is myself.

Many historians wouldn't know the inner workings of Camelot as it faded into legend because of a ritual that Merlin conducted to hide the magical world from the mundane. The numerous legends and historical accounts eventually became so convoluted and confusing that this affected the denizens of the magical world as well.

Arthur was not, in fact, a wizard. He was a mundane swordsman who rose to prominence during the numerous battles against the invading Saxons. His burgeoning fame along with his magnetic personality started to draw magicals to his side as well.

My family being one of the first to support his claim to the throne of Britannia. He was a brave and honorable man who cared for his allies and treated all as his equal. In short, he had the temperament of a great king.

For some odd reason, after the destruction of Camelot, I heard the mundane world start spinning stories of me being his half-sister through his mother. This is categorically untrue, as we were raised in two separate worlds before our families met.

We were wed to solidify our alliance and as part of the dowry, my family paid to have a magical sword of unparalleled power crafted for him. The sword was a gift that was meant to be used in protection of our newly formed kingdom. That sword later became known as the fabled Excalibur, the legendary blade wielded by Arthur.

Early in our marriage, we were madly in love with each other. I was discovered to have a rare talent for magic, so Merlin had formally extended an offer of Apprenticeship to me, which I accepted. It was tough, as he was a harsh taskmaster, and Arthur had to work hard to grow our young kingdom.

That was where Merlin and I came to help him. We partnered with the magical population to increase crop yields through magic. Potions to help the mundane with the numerous illnesses they were susceptible to, were all available for cheap.

Arthur and I went to bed exhausted every single night, but we were both satisfied that our kingdom was finally flourishing. It wasn't until years later that we faced the first obstacle to our dream.

Every kingdom in history has at one point or another, been faced with an existential threat. Camelot was no different. The Saxons saw our prosperity and wanted to reap the benefits of our hard work for themselves.

They launched several campaigns aimed at conquering Camelot, and Arthur had to frequently take to the field to defend our precious home. The Saxons grew wise to our cooperation with the magical populace, so they emulated our strategy and integrated magicals into their armies.

Suddenly, Camelot found itself facing enemies that were strong and determined to displace the population from their home. The first battle against Camelot, they called upon the power of the elements to strike down Arthur's forces. They were successful beyond measure, as our army was sundered apart by harsh winds, devastating floods, and destructive bolts of lightning.

Arthur himself was gravely wounded and it was only Excalibur that saved his life that day. When a wounded Arthur was transported to the gates of Camelot, all the people wept in sorrow. They all thought we were doomed to suffer and lose our kingdom to those barbarians.

Merlin was charged with healing Arthur and tried to calm the people down, ȧssuring them of their king's survival. He inspired confidence in them, and that kept things peaceful for the most part. I, on the other hand, decided to take a vastly different approach to the problem.

They had nearly killed my beloved husband, so I drew on the grief they had caused me and chose to fight back. I gathered a group of likeminded magicals, and we took to the field of battle, along with the remnants of Arthur's forces.

Merlin was the most powerful and knowledgeable wizard in the world. Many had attempted to take the title for themselves, only to be handily defeated by my master in magical combat. I had learned about many obscure and formidable fields of magic under his mentorship, one of which I discovered that I had a talent for.

My talent was in Elemental Arcane magics. I had the uncanny ability to utilize the elements in a way that nobody else was able to. I found it incredibly easy to invoke the deities that held domain over. Every element has a deity that holds power over it.

For example, the element of fire has many deities with their own variations of fire. The Egyptians worshipped Ra, the Hindus worshipped Agni, and the Greeks had Hephaestus. All of them were known to be the rulers of the element. In my research, I had come across an Egyptian goddess known as Wadjet. She was the protector of pharaohs and used her fire to burn her enemies.

I saw the parallels between Arthur and the ancient Egyptian pharaohs, so using only my will and magic, I called out to her. My call for help was successful as she manifested herself in front of me in all her glory. I informed her of how my husband the king had been wounded on the field of battle by enemy wizards. I called upon her to help in my revenge against his enemies.

She agreed and sent forth a blaze that could not be stopped by the Saxon army. It was a fire that burned with malice and hatred, something so terrifyingly hot that no water could ever extinguish it. Ancient creatures took shape from the inferno and attacked our enemies ferociously.

That fire burned for 3 days and nights, consuming nearly everything in its path to the ocean. Once it had completed its mission and obliterated our enemy, it disappeared on its own, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake.

I went home victorious, expecting the congratulations of my husband and people, only to discover their fear of me. Merlin was especially distraught with my actions and punished me harshly, formally breaking our bond as Master and Apprentice. While it hurt to lose Merlin's trust, it didn't affect me that much. It was Arthur's reaction that broke my heart and forever changed me.

He feared me. His own wife. I waited for him in our bed for several nights, only to find that he didn't want to lay next to me anymore. Whispers abounded throughout the kingdom of my actions. They called me a black-hearted demoness that would burn all who displeased her, sending their souls to Hell. Arthur and his court did nothing to stop their slander against me.

His knights all refused to ȧssociate with me, including those who had fought beside me. I was thoroughly isolated and utterly alone. Hence, I retreated to my study, furthering my knowledge of the Arcane arts, determined to show those who demonized me that my magic could be used for good.

I dissociated myself from my family, the court, and the people in my rabid pursuit for knowledge. By the time I figured out how things had changed and how badly damaged my standing truly was, it was far too late. Arthur had been seduced by that whore Guinevere and my family had been ostracized by the magical community.

We had lost nearly all our business partnerships and alliances save a couple. I was no longer seen as the Queen of Camelot, despite my marriage to Arthur. The writing was on the wall, so I enacted a desperate gambit.

I completed a ritual to gain the blessing of Demeter, the Greek goddess of fertility. I succeeded in my endeavor, took on the form of Guinevere that very night and accompanied Arthur into his chambers.

My trick was discovered later the following day, but it had paid off. I was pregnant with Arthur's son and had already retreated from the castle. I disappeared from Camelot and ended up at my family's doorstep. I had expected Arthur to be angry at my deception, but I had no idea how vicious and ruthless he had become.

He rallied his forces in the capital and rode to kill me for my supposed treachery against him. The people were whipped up into a frenzy by him and Merlin, all of them crying out for the death of myself and my unborn child.

I ran away from my family, to redirect Arthur's attention onto me and spare them from his wrath. I had hoped he would remember the bonds our families had shared during his early years as king, but that proved to be futile. My entire family was executed by the very sword they had gifted him to protect us. Quite ironic, wouldn't you say?"

Archer said nothing, not trusting himself to say a word when she mentioned her fall from grace. This was unlike anything he had read before. Then again, hearing the story from the mouth of the person who had lived it put things into perspective.

Morgana continued her poignant tale. "I was inconsolable for days upon hearing the gruesome fate of my family. I loved them with all my heart and learning of their deaths at Arthur's hand drove me to seek revenge.

I fled to one of the only remaining allies that had stood by us regardless of my reputation. The Peverells. They welcomed me with open arms and gave me refuge from my would-be killers. I gave birth to my son Mordred in their castle, and he grew up with their children.

They helped raise and train him for his mission to reclaim his rightful place as King of Camelot. Mordred fell in love with a girl from the family and went on to have a son before he left to take back the kingdom. As you know, he died in the Battle of Camlann facing off against Arthur, leaving his wife and young son behind.

That son went on to become the Lord Peverell and presided over the family for many years before passing the Headship over to his eldest son. The line continued until the famous brothers that created the Deathly Hallows, as you call them. The Peverells had become a family that was feared.

In a bid to save the family and secure their line, the three brothers, Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus hatched a bold plan. The older brothers would split off from the family and start their own cadet branches. Ignotus would act as a decoy to show the decline of the vaunted House Peverell and fool the rest of the world into thinking they would eventually go extinct.

Antioch went to a tavern and pretended to drunkenly boast about the Elder Wand, the unbeatable wand he had won from Death itself. That night, a man snuck into his room and slit his throat before seizing the wand for himself. Unknown to him, Antioch had substituted a transfigured construct in his bed, and was observing the proceedings from the adjacent room.

With his 'death' being reported the next morning, he left the inn and made his way to the village of Blackmoor. There he shed his disguise and started to create a new identity for himself. He chose a surname that honored my title during my time as Queen, Arglwyddes y Llyn Du, the Lady of the Black Lake. He named himself Arcturus Black of Blackmoor, first of his name.

The second brother, Cadmus chose to leave Britannia altogether, faking his suicide and journeying to the faraway lands of Africa and Asia. He pursued the arte of Rituals, seeking to improve upon the legacy I had left behind in the family's grimoire.

He became a famous wandering healer, using his knowledge of rituals to heal and protect the innocent. He settled down in India after years of exploring the world and found that many villages suffered from attacks by wild snakes.

To solve this problem, he created an Arcane blood magic ritual that allowed him to speak their language and command them. That language is known as Parseltongue in the modern era. After showcasing his talent for numerous villages, he earned the name Slytherin for his affinity to snakes.

He was successful in his experiment and became famous for his ability that he passed on to his numerous children. They were coveted for their talents, and soon enough, the magicals grew greedy and tried to forcefully breed the talent into their own families. The family magic reacted in retaliation, and the children stopped being able to pass on the gift of Parseltongue to their progeny.

Only his first two children survived the rabid onslaught of the Indian magical community, and both retreated from India for distant lands. After centuries passed, the last direct descendant of Cadmus, Salazar Slytherin, journeyed to his ancestor's homeland and helped found the school of Hogwarts along with his companions.

His only daughter married into the Gaunt family and that family went extinct due to excessive inbreeding in an attempt to keep their blood 'pure'. If what I learned from your memories is true, and Tom Marvolo Riddle is a descendant of the Gaunt family, then your situation has changed.

If he has indeed utilized Soul magic to create Horcruxes, he has lost all rights to both the Gaunt and Slytherin family magic. While the Gaunts were a separate family, the Slytherin title and magic would default to the family with primacy over it. It was initially a cadet branch to the Peverell family, so the Peverells would be able to lay claim to it.

Seeing as the House Peverell was dissolved, only the one who was able to open the vault and gain the approval of Ignotus would be able to claim the title of Lord Peverell. Since you received the title of Prince Le Fay, that means that you can claim primacy to the Peverell title and all other cadet branches that do not already have a designated Lord or Heir.

I have no doubt that once you complete the ritual to officially take your position as Prince, if you test your claims again at Gringotts, the Slytherin heirship would show up along with all your other titles. However, if the family already has a Lord or Heir, you will not be able to usurp their positions.

That won't be a problem in your case, seeing as the Peverell family Heirship is already in your hands, the Black family has no designated Heir Primus, and Tom Riddle lost the rights to the Slytherin family with his use of the Black Arts. Things have worked out quite nicely for you, haven't they Archer? Almost as if a greater power has shaped events to follow this path."

Archer didn't know how to respond to the true history of the Peverell family. To think that two of the most famous families in all Magical Britain all descended from the Peverells, who themselves were descendants of the great Morgana Le Fay.

Morgana also wasn't alone in her feeling, as he had similar thoughts regarding a higher power in the background but had no proof of its existence. It would explain his rather significant background and the many titles that had fallen into his ŀȧp by dint of his birth.

"Nevertheless, we must be thankful for your rather outrageous luck and focus on our next move. The enhancement rituals you conducted were powerful but based on simpler magic that didn't involve any Arcane aspects and only relied on sacrifices.

Under my guidance, you will learn the ins and outs of Arcane magic and how to invoke the presence of the elemental deities. It was a specialty of mine when I was alive, and it is the most powerful weapon you can have in your arsenal against any opponent, regardless of their strength.

Short of Merlin himself, not many will be able to cross wands with you on the battlefield once you master my signature magic. There is a reason true Arcanists are feared by all. The power they wield is godly in comparison to all other magics.

Be warned, it will not be easy, as you will be attempting to control forces that are beyond the scope of human understanding. Discipline and willpower will be key to maintaining your sanity in the face of the divine, so that is what we will focus on in the beginning before moving on to the basics of Invocation. Understood?"

Archer was grinning. He was ecstatic to learn the Morgana specialized in Arcane magic. It was something he had been planning on learning much later on, but being taught by a true Arcanist would increase his learning speed and also expose him to the more subtle aspects of the Arcane and how he could apply it to the upcoming war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

"What are we waiting for? I'd love to start learning as soon as possible." He eagerly asked.

Morgana smiled. "Patience, Archer. These magics are not to be underestimated. We must first lay down a solid foundation before building upon it.. Now, let us begin with a review of the control exercises I witnessed my counterpart teach you."