"Harry Potter and the Power of Faith"
Chapter Six
- Rings, Reunions and Revelations -

A/N: Don't own squat, 'cept the plot. . . . dammit.

"Speech"
Thoughts
'Telepathy'
{Foreign Language}
Flashbacks will be italicized, so speech and thoughts will be reversed in those instances.

Was called on my lack of Irish by an Irishman. My apologies. Google doesn't translate all that well. That said, I changed the motto of the House of Ó Liatháin to "An Conair de Scáth" which should mean "The Path of Shadows". Hopefully, that will suffice.

Also checked different places for "Fortune Favours the Bold" and found a similar phrase to what I used. Changed it too.

To those that called me on Liam: Yep.

To those that called me on Seamus: Also Yep.

Gringotts San Francisco – Midday

Direclaw and a pair of guards led the gobsmacked trio through the unfathomable corridors of confusion, otherwise known as the bowels of Gringotts, to an office with a rather elaborate door. After a knock, they were led inside.

This room was also hewn from solid rock, but there were black marble supports along the edges. Tapestries adorned the left and right walls, depicting two different battles. Harry noted that the one on the left read, 'Battle of Cormagon', while Faith read the other as 'The Fall of Ogarath'. Both showed the goblins in a bloodbath of victory.

In front of the rather expensive looking marble and onyx desk, stood two goblins. The one on the right was in a similar three piece suit as Direclaw. The one on the left wore a three piece suit that looked rather British, albeit from a few centuries ago.

Seeing the one on the left, Harry's instincts took over and he bowed. {Forgive our intrusion to your evening, master goblin. I did not know you would be called from Britain.} Faith took her cue from him and also bowed, with her right foot going behind her left. Wes simply looked at the floor, looking rather subdued.

{Please stand,} the goblin stated with a gravelly voice. When they did, he continued with an approving grin. {It is very good to finally meet you, Lord Potter. I am Goldturn, your account manager in Britain. It is quite gratifying to see that you've finally shed the shackles of that so-called Leader of the Light.}

Harry couldn't stop the grin at that statement. {Well met, Goldturn. Fortunately for me, the wizard behind us was able to break the compulsion web. However, we should use English so he doesn't feel left out.}

"Quite," Goldturn stated with a nod and a smirk. "Please have a seat, and we can go through the parchments to have your assets relocated."

All in all, it was a very productive meeting. Harry still glanced at his hands, as the rings were so new. Faith and Harry had matching wedding rings, with Faith having a rather late engagement ring next to hers. (It had an emerald instead of a diamond, and was the one his father used to propose to his mother.) His right hand was adorned with three others that occupied the same space… not just Potter and Black, but Ross as well.

That was the sobering thought. Harry was a Double Lord. Goldturn was completely incensed over Harry's lack of knowledge over it, aimed solely at Dumbledore. It wasn't as audacious as being an heir of Hogwarts, or any of that rot. Still though, two Lordships: Richmond and Blackmore.

They were both English titles, while Ross was a simple Scottish Clan Head, or Chief. Made sense if you took the colour of his mother's hair into account. If Harry had seen early pictures of Professor McGonnagal and Augusta Longbottom, it would've been even more obvious.

So, a Barony and an Earldom in England, with an Scottish Clan Chief thrown in for flavour. This, on top of his not wanting any more to do with Great Britain, was a huge irony. He did let Goldturn write the letter to the Queen over the matter, and he was sure that was going to bite him later. Still, it had to be done. He did give the goblin leeway on what and how she was to be informed on his upbringing, though. Honestly though, he didn't want to think about it.

He so wanted to be a fly on the wall when Dumbles found out about it, and hoped the bastard got a Royal Howler over his indiscretions.

Odd thing, the headship rings. Magic truly was weird. While they occupied the same right ring finger, they didn't touch each other or merge or some other nonsense. They simply shifted off from one another. (Hermione would be able to explain it, he was sure.) He could think of one of the rings, and it would appear on his hand. The only thing he couldn't do was make all three appear at once. He could make them all disappear, though. That was good if he ever wore gloves or punched someone, because they couldn't be taken off unless he died.

Whatever remnants of blocks that were on him were blown away by the rings as well. Felt like an explosive buzz under his skin when they went, too. His already snarky attitude and way of thinking about things became much clearer as a result of that.

He fought the Ross appointment at first, since Neville was born five minutes before he was, but was overruled since Harry descended from the primary heir. Apparently, Chief Ross and his wife, as well as his uncle David, were assassinated the same night their daughter disappeared. The Goblins didn't know who the perpetrators were, but Harry would lay odds on Dumbledore having something to do with it.

Or Voldemort… Wasn't much of a stretch to see either of them behind it, really.

Getting his vaults 'moved' was a simple affair, if you didn't mind the blood quill. It was frustrating, really, when he told them about Umbridge and showed them his hand. Frustrating, in that goblin magic erased the scar completely. No muss, no fuss. A simple paste and it was gone. They also went ahead and removed the white line that he was famous for as well. He was absolutely thrilled with that.

He still hadn't noticed that his glasses were left at Wesley's house, until Wes pointed it out while he was reading over the documents. Not understanding it, Harry just shook his head and soldiered on through the paper morass, rather pleased.

He left the bank with a debit card that worked in both worlds, and an I.D. that said his name was either Harry James Potter, James Evan Black or Harold B. Ross, depending on what was needed at the time. They waited till they sat down to eat, before explaining to Wesley what they were told about their marriage. It was aggravating the man, sure. Still, they were a bit grateful that it was announced in Goblin instead of English.

Stopping for lunch at Pizza Ward, the magical side of Pizza Hut, the newlyweds waited until they had their food and such before asking Wesley to put up a privacy charm.

"Is it safe to get answers now?" Wesley complained. "Honestly, it's like the pair of you love watching me squirm."

Smirking, Faith nodded. "Well, that is part of the fun, you know?"

"However," Harry interjected seamlessly, "we didn't want you to make a scene with the Goblins. They really don't appreciate their time being wasted."

Ignoring his food, Wesley crossed his arms and glared at them from over his glasses. "All right. Out with it. How did you two get married in such a short amount of time without me knowing about it?"

Faith looked at Harry. Harry looked at Faith. They turned their attention to the aggravated wizard and replied as one. "Soul Bonds trump everything."

"Don't be absurd!" Wesley sputtered, before going after his diet soda.

"Yup," they replied with matching nods of the head.

"Bugger me sideways," Wes grumbled, before speaking louder. "The Council will go completely spare over this."

"Fuck the Council," they both blurted at once.

"They've given me no support…"

"They badmouth her at almost every turn…"

"Sure, they helped me with my G.E.D."

"But Travers wants someone trained by 'Their People' instead of someone who can think for themselves."

"It's like they're waiting for me to die, so…"

"Fuck That!" they finished together.

Frowning, Wes shook his head. "I'm sure it isn't like that at all. You've proven time and again to be quite resourceful. I don't think any of them would've considered napalm in taking out an ancient vampire."

"That doesn't change the fact that they hate my guts, Wes," Faith complained with her mouth full of pepperoni pizza.

"Doesn't matter," Harry stated. "We'll be off their radar sometime this summer."

"You're not abandoning your duty!" Wes nearly shouted. "And you, Mr. Potter, are not helping the matter!"

Faith froze as Harry got quiet. "Wesley Wyndam-Price," he said in a cold voice, "I can take my wife wherever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want. She is not yours. Is. That… Perfectly. Clear?

"I have it on good authority that there will be a Slayer to mind the shop, so to speak, before we're ready to leave. So, get your knickers unbunched and chuck your guide book in the bin. Rules have a tendency to fly out the window wherever I'm concerned. I'm certain you understand."

The Watcher didn't know what to say to that. Honestly, he didn't know if he could say anything at that point. The growling voice of the boy… no, young Man seated in front of him scared his voice away.

"Harry," Faith whispered, "stop trying to make my Watcher piss himself. I'm better at it anyway."

Harry snorted, breaking the tension. "Yes, dear," he said with a grin.

"I need a drink," Wes mumbled.

The rest of the day was spent shopping for wizarding supplies, clothes and getting Harry a haircut. Faith was a bit of a whirlwind in Wylde's Wear, a clothing shop that catered to both sides of the Secrecy divide. Thankfully, she didn't get him anything too outlandish.

She did demand that he get a black dragonhide jacket, though (She got a red one for herself.); Denim trousers, "Jeans, Harry," in black and blue; several tees in darker colours, with three in a shade of green that she said went with his eyes; a couple of pullover hoodies; a few button up shirts in black, red and green; boxers, briefs, socks and trainers, "Sneakers, Harry,"; and most importantly: a pair of buckled black dragonhide boots to go patrolling in. Faith got a pair just like them in her size.

Finally free of the clothing store after two and a half hours of torture, wearing some of it out of the shop, they raided two book stores for American versions of different types of magic. After, they went to Madrone's Wand Crafting, both for a second wand for Harry and a new one for Faith. She told the lady hers snapped in a fall to avoid questions.

Their new wands were crafted right in front of them, and it was fascinating to watch. Harry's new wand was thirteen inches and a quarter, from mostly redwood with a grip of ironwood, and a core of griffin and fwooper feathers that were twisted together. Odd combination, really, but it resonated far better with his magic than the one he got from Ollivander.

Faith's was similar, ironwood with a redwood grip at twelve and an eighth, but the core was just too damned creepy: chimera heartstring soaked in freely given blood from a 'rather nice and somewhat local' Deathwok demon.

While both wands were blood-rune keyed to them for security, Michaela Madrone was astonished when they swapped wands to test and cast a lumos. Neither would work for Wesley though. Eyeing their left hands, she gave a satisfied nod. "Ah, you're married. That explains everything. While they wont work as well as your own, it's good for just in case."

She ended up giving them a twenty percent discount when they told her they were married only yesterday. The woman did give Wesley an odd look, though, wondering what a pair of newlyweds were doing hanging out with him. Harry caught the look and mouthed 'guide', which evoked another sage nod.

Even with the discount, they were one hundred and sixty galleons lighter when they left the shop, which included two quick-snap wrist holsters that looked like simple leather bracelets. Lighter figuratively, of course. Harry loved his Gringotts debit card. They made a relatively quick run through the local apothecary to stock up on potions ingredients, had dinner, (pizza again) and headed back to Sunnydale.

Arriving back at Wesley's house, they found that they had visitors. Two goblins and a family of three that Harry was relieved to see. "Hermione!" he shouted as he jumped out of the car. Smiling widely, he ran over and gently held her to him, mindful of her injury, his new strength and the fact she looked absolutely exhausted.

"Harry," she sighed into his shoulder. She always felt safe and complete with him. The fact that he initiated a hug for the first time escaped her sleep deprived and foggy mind.

Pulling back, she went through one of her typical interrogations at half speed. "What's with the cloak and dagger? Why did you send the goblins after us? Why did you have them rush us through Gringotts, which I'm sure broke a few international muggle laws? Are we in California? What the devil is going on Harry?"

Looking up at her parents, Harry smirked. "She'll be fine." That earned a half hearted whap to his shoulder, and a mumbled 'git'.

"While it's good to hear her babble, she does raise some good points, Harry," Emma said.

Dan nodded. "Wouldn't tell us a thing, either. They just came into the surgery under a glamour, told us that Hermione was injured, and had us out the door in under ten minutes. One long and frightening ride through their tunnels and one of their portkeys, and we're here." He paused and looked to the two Goblins that came with them. "Efficient people, the Goblins."

"Thank you, sir," the male in armour said with a smirking nod.

"Left out a lot of details, though," Emma said with a squint at them.

Sighing, Harry looked over to them. "Thank you for escorting them here. Were you able to get their belongings?" He nodded when the female held up a small bag. "Thank you. Now I suppose you left the rather important detail for me to reveal, eh?"

Both of them looked amused and simply nodded.

Running a hand through his shorter hair, he sighed again. "Thank you ever so much," he mumbled sarcastically.

"You're very welcome," the male said with a bigger smirk.

Grumbling, he let go of Hermione and took an invoice from the female with a nod. Looking it over, his head popped up to look at Hermione. "You saw a goblin healer?" Before she could answer, he looked back to the goblins. "Thank you so much for that consideration. Was her condition easily treatable?"

"They were, Lord Potter," the female said with a rather gentle smile for a goblin. The Grangers turned as one to gape at Harry, before she continued. "Her diagnosis and treatment start on page four. This bag contains paste and potions for her recuperation."

Emma took the bags with a quiet, "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you very much," Harry said with a smile. "This lets us take care of her, instead of going to St. Albans in San Francisco. Were there any complications, either with her treatment or their relocation?"

The female shook her head, while the male replied. "Nothing untoward. Madam Pomphrey was actually grateful, as she didn't have to think up a way to get… 'Hermione' stealthily out of Hogwarts."

Nodding, Harry looked over the invoice again. Signing it as 'James Black' to have the payment come from the Black vault, he pulled out his wallet to fetch his card. Holding the corner of it in the marked square, a copy of the now paid invoice appeared. The goblin gave him the copy and took the original.

{Once again, thank you both. If there's a letter of recommendation I can send to show my gratitude for your efficiency, please allow me,} Harry said with a head bow. The female smiled without showing her teeth and handed him a small packet for that purpose.

"Since when do you speak Goblin?" Hermione squeaked in confusion.

"Today, apparently," Harry said with a chuckle. "Bit odd, finding that out."

Sighing, Hermione shook her head. "Only you, Harry. Only you," she mumbled. "Nice pronunciation, though."

"Toh-pagh," the goblins said in unison before silently fading away.

Harry tilted his head. "Be interesting to figure out how they apparate."

Looking around, Faith took charge. "Wes, go update the wards so that Mr. and Mrs. Granger can enter, as well as Hermione. Introductions can be done inside after we lay her down on the couch."

Wesley huffed a bit, though was impressed by her improved vocabulary, then went to do just that.

Harry hugged Hermione again and rested his chin on her head. Dan and Emma looked concerned when they saw him start to rock her side to side with a grimace on his face. Faith frowned and stepped up behind him to rub his shoulders.

With their positions as they were, what with Harry's left hand cradling her daughter's head - and the other girl rubbing Harry's shoulders, Emma noticed two matching rings with wide eyes. She was so disappointed that Hermione's best friend was off the market.

"All right, Harry?" Dan asked.

He just shook his head. "Better to wait till we're indoors."

The nervous look that Dan and Emma had faded rather abruptly. "Oh, thank goodness," Emma said with a sigh. "For the life of me, I thought we left the stove on."

"You too?" Dan asked. "Weird."

"Part of the anti-mundane ward around the house," Faith explained, her accent slipping to Surrey. "We should be able to get you inside now. This way."

After everyone was inside, Hermione lightly dosed on the couch while Faith and Wesley went about tea, sandwich and biscuit prep. She stopped him from retrieving the Darjeeling with a shake of her head. "Not that one. Harry hates it. Lets go with a light mix of green and black, eh?" she suggested, still with a Surrey accent.

Noting the décor, Harry conjured two more chairs for the Grangers, surprising them both. He grinned at what he could do, and absolutely loved his new wand.

"Wont you get in trouble for that?" Emma asked a bit worriedly.

Harry shook his head. "Part of the story. But, suffice it to say that England is far away, and even if I still had the Trace, it wouldn't register if I was still in England."

"Emancipation?" Hermione slurred from the couch.

Nodding, he lightly scolded her. "Try to rest, Hermione. Everything will be explained, I promise. For now though, take a peek." He held up his right hand and let the Potter Signet appear.

Gasping with a smile, Hermione reached over to bring his hand closer. "I read about these. This is the Signet for the House of Potter?"

Nodding, Harry filed that bit of info away. She knew about them but never said. Still, she was his sister, and there was the possibility that she was cursed to not talk about it. Changing tactics, he grinned. "You think that's something, just wait."

The ruby ring vanished and was replaced by a silvered one with an onyx. Hermione's eyes bulged. "What? Which ring is that?"

"House of Black," Harry said quietly.

Blinking, she looked up at him worriedly and gripped his hand. "Oh Harry, it wasn't your fault."

"I know," he whispered. "It's Dumbledore's."

"Dumbledore's?" Dan interjected.

Nodding again, he willed the Black Signet away and replaced it with the Ross one. It was a simple gold ring, with an elaborate embossed 'R' on the top flattened part. There was a rose entwined with the flat side of the 'R'.

"Harry?" Hermione looked at it confusingly.

"Turns out, Mum wasn't an Evans," he said quietly. "She was adopted into it as she was the sole survivor of the primary line of the Scottish Clan of Ross. Illegally, most likely, as purebloods would never be adopted into a muggle… I mean mundane family."

"Mundane?" Emma asked. "That's the second time we've heard that term.

Harry grimaced. "Yeah. Muggle is considered a swear word over here."

"Your mother was a pureblood," Hermione said, working things out slowly and verbally. Her head hurt so much. "That means you're a pureblood as well, Harry. And, those blood wards at the Dursleys are more smoke and mirrors."

"Yep," Harry nodded.

Grumbling, Hermione rubbed her head. "I can't think," she complained.

Looking over at her in concern, Harry stood up. "I'll be right back." Heading upstairs, he ducked into the guest room and cast a few cleaning and air freshening charms before heading back down.

The Grangers looked at him curiously as he knelt a bit by Hermione on the couch. Hermione put up a token protest when he picked her up. "Stop fussing. I'm putting you to bed."

"But, Harry…" she mumbled into his shoulder.

Harry shook his head as he headed up the stair. "No buts. You're exhausted and still recovering. I promise you'll know everything once you've had a good sleep."

Emma chuckled as she watched Harry carry Hermione out of the room. "The way they act, I'm surprised they aren't dating."

"Not a good idea," Faith said as she carried the tea service into the room.

Dan looked confused. "Why not? He's the only friend of hers that I actually like."

"I'll let Harry explain," she replied while pouring the tea. "Milk? Sugar?"

"Do you have any honey?" Emma asked.

Wes came in with some sandwiches and biscuits and set the plate on table. "Sorry, no. It's on my to-do list. And, since those two are busy being enigmatic, my name is Wesley Wyndam-Price, Healer."

"Daniel Granger. This is my wife, Emma," Dan said with a nod. "Dentists."

"Faith," Faith said. "You get the rest when Harry's back."

Emma gave a sad smile. "Faith Potter, am I right?"

Looking up with wide eyes, Faith was sputtering. "How?"

Emma simply pointed. "You're wedding rings, dear."

Glancing down at her left hand, Faith's look of alarm melted into a bit of a dreamy smile. "Oh… Yeah." Looking back up to the woman, she shook her head. "That isn't the reason it's a bad idea, though. Would've been bad before that, too."

Harry came into the room with a look of confusion. "What would be a bad idea?"

Knowing smirk on her face, Faith turned to look at him. "You and Hermione dating."

Briefly freezing in place, Harry looked poleaxed. "Yeah, uh, n-no. Bad, bad idea." He then squinted at Faith's snickers. "Hush, you."

"Come on, it's funny!" Faith goaded him.

Taking his seat, he mockingly glared at her. "No. Just… no."

Crossing her arms in a huff, Emma wasn't amused. "And just why is that such a terrible idea? You two look good together. Is something wrong with her?"

Harry and Faith's humour over the situation abruptly evaporated. Taking the tea that Faith prepared for him, Harry took a sip and looked at the Grangers. "Tell me. What do you remember about Hermione's birth?"

Dan was frowning now. "Don't tell me you've started believing that pureblood rubbish!"

"That's not what I meant," Harry snapped. "What I'm asking for, is your memories of the day she was born." He shook his head, irritated. "Honestly."

The Grangers' eyes widened as they looked at each other. Communicating with just their expressions as only those who've been with each other for years could do, Emma looked scared, Dan looked resigned, then Emma nodded and turned to her tea. After taking a sip, she sighed. "I can't have children," she said quietly.

Wes leaned forward. "There are many options that mundane medicine doesn't have access to. There still could be hope."

She looked at him with a sad smile. "Could you regrow ovaries?"

Face falling, Wes looked contrite. "Sorry. No. Reproductive organs are most tricky."

"It's all right," Emma said, looking at the table. "I'm resigned to it." She looked up at Dan when he took her hand in support, then her mind sparked. "Wait. You said it was a bad idea, then you asked about her birth. You're related," she stated rather than asked.

Nodding, Harry's face was rather blank even with Faith rubbing his shoulder. "She was stolen. Well, we both were actually, on the same night."

Dan caught on. "You're not just related. She's your sister?"

He nodded again. "Twin, actually."

"Oh, lord," Emma said with her hands going to her mouth. "That means she was there when…" she couldn't finish and turned to see her husband paling.

Shaking his head, Dan's voice was rather quiet. "Knew it was too good to be true. Emma was so happy that I didn't even question how fast it all happened."