In honor of my mentor, The Dark Lord Andros, I've decided to go ahead and revamp a few of his old stories. With him surrendering full authority of all his works to me due to his currently miserable health, I feel that the time is right to honor what he's created here. Fortunately, he taught me to master his style of writing, and he also provided me with outlines he'd written up for each story. For now, I only intend to work on two stories at a time, with the occasional one shot in order to keep my focus.

Privet Drive was every bit your normal looking suburban neighborhood; well kept lawns, nice cars in every drive, even an old cat lady. But, though to an outside observer things appeared perfectly normal, the truth was far from it. Many of the residents of the street had come to fear the "Devil Child" of number four.

Nobody knew what it was about Harry Potter, but everyone agreed that something was "off" about him. He was the best in his school when it came to his studies and he spent large amounts of time at the library, which while unusual for a boy his age, wasn't what scared people. A large part of it was how he would watch those around him. His stare made people feel uneasy, almost like he was seeing straight into their soul. The other part was his appearance.

Looking at the thin boy scribbling into a book one could easily understand why he was considered "weird." To begin with; the boy's hair was down to his mid back, jet black, and looked like silk. Currently it was being held back in a ponytail save for a few strands that hung to either side of his face. The boy's eyes were outlined with jet black eyeliner that seemed to amplify their emerald green color.

He wore the same identical outfit every day, and his choice of clothing certainly didn't do anything to help him appear "normal." Jet black buttonless dress shirt that was tucked into his skin-tight black leather pants. Tight belt around his waist as well as five around his mid-riff, one on each thigh, and one on each of his upper arms. Each belt shortened according to where it was on his body, with the arms having the shortest.

On top of this ensemble he wore a black leather trench-coat which fell to his mid calves, and for shoes, he wore jet black boots with a pointed toe and slight heel. The only article of clothing he was wearing that wasn't black were his stark white gloves, which no-one had ever seen him without. If anyone ever revealed themselves to be dumb enough to comment on his attire, he'd stare them down.

At the moment Harry Potter was standing behind a weathered bench and it was clear that he was waiting on someone. He smirked when he noticed a figure coming towards him. Reaching into his coat and pulling out a silver pocket-watch he laughed to himself. 'Right on time.' As soon as the newcomer was within earshot Harry returned to his seat upon the old park bench.

"Afternoon Steven, I trust you have what I asked for?" A boy roughly the same age as Harry nodded before holding out a small parcel wrapped in paper. Taking the package Harry removed the paper before examining the small book. It wasn't much, just a copy of local church records. To Harry though, it was important that everything went smoothly regardless of what was happening, he detested error.

"You did well Steven. Consider your debt to me paid in full." The slightly nervous boy nodded before running back the way he came as fast as his legs would carry him. He knew that he was one of the lucky ones, many people who crossed the strange Gothic child ended up getting hurt in strange accidents, so he wasn't about to push his luck.

Harry flipped through the book before nodding to himself and placing it inside of his coat pocket and heading off towards number four. As he walked he found himself slipping into old memories.

FLASHBACK

A young boy lay curled in a ball in the corner of a dark cupboard. The boy's face was stained with tears, and his overly large ragged clothes were stained with blood. Most people would be angered at the sight of a young boy in such a state on his fifth birthday, but to the occupants of number four Privet Drive, it was what the "freak" deserved.

Harry Potter silently wept as he cradled his broken arm. Suddenly the pain lessened, slowly being replaced by a strange warmth. Maybe it was the loss of blood, or the concussion, but Harry felt as if he could do anything when surrounded by that warmth, and so he made a simple wish.

"What did I do to deserve this? All I want is to be treated fairly by the people who are meant to be my family." Now to most people this wouldn't constitute a wish, but, it was. So the warmth within the boy began to shift and morph the minds of his "relatives," until they had no recollection of what made the boy "freakish." All they knew was so long as he was treated fairly, they'd be allowed to live. So it was the next day, that Harry Potter's life changed, and he began to explore his newly discovered abilities.

FLASHBACK END

Looking back on it, Harry smiled. His life had improved so much since the days of the cupboard. He'd gained a backbone and put it to good use. Every kid on the street, whether older or younger than Harry, knew one thing, his word was law. Noticing that he had arrived home the raven haired boy gave a small sigh, his uncle's sister was coming for a visit soon.

Though Marge was never mean to Harry, as dictated by his wish for his "family" to treat him with respect, she wasn't his favorite person. She generally brought along one or more smelly (in Harry's opinion) bulldogs, she had an annoying tendency to run her mouth aimlessly, and she always smelled of sour laundry.

However, if she was kept out of the liquor cabinet, she was rather enjoyable company in spite of her negative traits. She had a love of traveling and she always brought interesting trinkets and stories from her travels to share with everyone.

Shaking his head slightly, Harry walked into the living area of number four and sank into his favorite chair. Crossing his ankles the young man stretched before closing his eyes and sighing in contentment.

A slight clinking of china caused him to open his eyes and he nodded in thanks as he took the cup of tea his aunt was holding out to him. Walking to the kitchen to grab her own cup, Petunia Dursley took her usual seat before glancing at the clock.

"You look tired." Harry nodded before taking a sip of his tea.

"Not really tired, just sore. Those old park benches could use replacing." A small nod was the only indication that she agreed with him, but it didn't really matter one way or another to him. The two made small talk while finishing their tea before Harry stood, adjusted his coat, and headed into his room. Throwing himself down onto his bed he pulled out a small book and pen and started working on a few ideas.

TIME-SKIP

It had been a week since the day when Harry had called in Steven's debt. Frankly he let the fool of easy, all he had to do was steal a copy of the church records from the local archives. He'd also taken precautions, slamming a piece of his will into the other boy that ensured if he attempted to speak of the action, he would fall deathly ill. It was hardly the first time he'd used such a tactic.

Now though, Harry found himself rather bored. It was August the first and he was in his usual attire. Perched upon his favorite chair, he sat reading a book that Marge had given him. Actually, one of five she'd given him. He closed it before running his hand over the lettering. A Complete Guide to Italian: Book One. Noticing his cousin walking by, Harry spoke up.

"Dudley, put this away for me, would you?" Though it was phrased as a question, Dudley Dursley knew better. Taking the book he started off towards Harry's library. As he came back downstairs, the doorbell rang. Peeking out the window, the boy chose not to answer it. Then the bell rang again and a cold voice hissed at him.

"Answer the bloody door." Though it was low and barely audible, Dudley heard loud and clear. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open to reveal a stern looking woman wearing deep green robes.

"Is Harry Potter at home?" The voice she used was thick with a Scottish accent and her gaze made the boy squirm. Sharp angled features and rectangular spectacles upon her face gave her the look of a haughty cat.

"That depends on who you are, and what you want with him." The woman's eyes narrowed and if possible she looked even more menacing.

"I am Professor Minerva McGonagall and I wish to speak with him and extend him an invitation to attend the school where I teach." Dudley eyed the woman for a second before he gave a small nod.

"Wait here." With that he closed the door softly, thus leaving the woman to scowl coldly. The door opened again after a few moments and the boy nodded before ushering her inside.

"Through that door there." Pointing to said door the boy turned and entered another room where he joined his mother and father.

Walking through the doorway, Minerva found herself stopping mid-step and eying the boy before her. From his hair, to his boots he looked nothing like she'd expected. His cold emerald eyes fixed her with a calculating glance before he laced his gloved fingers in his lap and nodded towards the sofa.

"Sit." The cold hissing voice unnerved her and so she did as he said before smoothing her robes and attempting to compose herself.

"Mr. Potter, I presume?" The boy nodded slowly before he leaned back into his antique leather chair.

"Yes, and you are the one who introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall. I must congratulate you, very few, other than myself have that effect on my cousin. Though, you're not here for pleasantries so I'd appreciate if you cut to the chase." The ice in his voice reminded Minerva of a man that she'd rather forget.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I'm here to extend you an invitation to Hogwarts, a school for witches and wizards, such as yourself." The boy showed no emotion other than to let his mouth curl into a sneer.

"Hmm, and so, when I agree to accept this "invitation" of yours, you take me away in a straight-jacket and lock me up?" His eyes were glowing softly with raw power and Minerva felt the urge to grab her wand. Instead she wrung her hands and took a steadying breath.

"No Harry, Hogwarts isn't a place for mad people, Hogwarts is a school. A school of magic." The boy's expression remained blank save his eyes which were burning even brighter.

"You can do things can't you Harry? Things other children can't..." At this a small smile formed on the young man's face before he spoke.

"I can make things move without touching them, I can make animals do what I want without training them, and I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt, if I want. Now, who are you?" By this point Minerva felt apprehension coiling within her chest. Steadying herself with a calming breath, she addressed the question as calmly as she could.

"I'm like you Harry. I'm different." Smiling softly, the woman drew a long mahogany wand from her robes and gave it a light flick, a large swan erupted from the tip before exploding outwards in a swarm of pink butterflies which swiftly vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Where do I get one of those?" The hunger in the young man's eyes was evident as he stared at the wand. His lips curled into a sneer as McGonagall replaced the wand within her robes.

"All in good time, I will leave you a letter detailing how to obtain your school supplies, and how to get to Hogwarts. We look forward to seeing you September the first." Withdrawing a parchment envelope from her robes, Minerva set it upon the coffee table before turning to exit the house.

"I can speak to snakes too, they find me, they whisper things, is that normal for someone like me?" Minerva felt her heart grow icy before she managed to choke out a response.

"It is rare, but not unheard of." With that she raced out of the house before dissapparating back to Hogwarts and bolting towards the headmaster's office.

HOGWARTS HEADMASTER'S OFFICE

"Fawkes, would you mind finding somewhere else to sit?" Albus Dumbledore (Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Grand Sorcerer, defeater of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, Order of Merlin first class and Headmaster of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry) was currently sifting through papers in an effort to prepare for the upcoming school year. Well actually he was currently trying to get his Phoenix familiar to vacate his desk so he could have a little more room to work. As Fawkes flew back over the the golden perch, Albus smiled when the wards pinged, informing him that his long time friend Minerva McGonagall was outside his door.

"Albus, we need to talk." Minerva had barely cleared the threshold before she was speaking, and her appearance made Albus pale. He'd never seen his friend so shaken.

"What has you so flustered Minerva? I've known you for years and you've never been quite so distraught." Though Albus was using his patented grandfather voice and demeanor his eyes betrayed his worry. "You went to visit young Harry I believe?" At her nod he gave a comforting smile. "Is everything okay with the boy?"

"Perhaps you'd better get your pensieve and judge for yourself." Frowning slightly Albus walked over to a cabinet and extracted a shallow stone bowl which he set down on the desk. Pulling out her wand Minerva extracted a silvery memory strand from her temple before tossing it in the pensieve. Taking a deep breathe Albus plunged his head into the bowl and emerged a few minutes later visibly shaking.

"I feel almost as if I just watched my own memory. That meeting was almost identical to a meeting I had with a young Tom Riddle, a little over fifty years ago. Minerva, please inform Severus I wish to see him. Then I'd suggest you take a calming draught, or three." With a small nod the shaken woman exited the room, leaving a weary Albus Dumbledore to slump in his seat.

"I'm scared Fawkes, not even Riddle was that bad. Have I set forth a chain of events that will lead to yet another Dark Lord?" The Phoenix landed on the headmaster's arm before giving a reassuring squawk. Patting the bird's head Albus smiled when the majestic beast flew back to the gold perch before the wards informed him that Severus Snape was waiting outside his office. Giving the all-clear to the wards Albus smiled when he saw the black haired man sweep into his office.

"You wished to see me sir?" The emotionless mask worn by the black robed man was impressive, but to Albus, who'd known him for years, it was a simple task to read.

"Yes my boy, I want you to examine a few memories, I've already prepared one memory, allow me to add the second, then you may view them." Pulling out a small vial the white haired man poured the silver memory into the bowl, waved his wand over it, and then indicated for Severus to go ahead. With a deep breath Severus plunged his head into the pensieve and emerged a few minutes later looking like he'd just seen the Reaper coming for him.

"The first memory was of the Dark Lord as a child, and the second was of Potter?" At Albus's nod the man groaned as he dropped into a chair. He'd been planning to break down the spawn of his arch-rival all summer, and instead he was faced with the possible occurrence of yet another Dark Lord.

"Yes Severus, and I shudder to think what will happen if Mr. Potter starts down the path of no return."

"What do we do? How do we prevent the boy from becoming a monster worse than him?" The venom that accompanied the last word left no doubt as to who the black haired man was speaking of.

"The only thing we can do, we must do our best to help him realize that the "light" is the better path to walk. I'm placing a lot of confidence in you Severus, I'm asking you to try and see the child of Lily Evans rather than the son of James Potter. If you won't do it for me, do it for her." The two men continued to discuss how they would prevent the fall of one Harry Potter.

TIME SKIP

Harry Potter stood outside a small pub that most other people appeared to pass by without noticing. To Harry, the place was an eyesore. It held no mystical charm, no promise of power, and not even a drop of character. He found it hard to believe that such a place could house the gateway to the magical world. Never-the-less, he walked into the dingy place and was instantly assaulted by the smell of alcohol and stale tobacco. Adjusting his right glove he moved towards the bar.

"Excuse me sir, would you very much mind opening the gateway for me?" The bartender looked nervous at the sight of the Gothic child, but he quickly hurried out the back and tapped a few bricks before leaving young Harry to slip through the newly opened archway. Glancing around, the black haired boy gave an audible sniff as he observed the other children (Gods above, how he hated that word) running amok and dragging their parents with them. Adjusting a few of his belts, the raven haired boy strode off towards a giant marble building with the word GRINGOTTS emblazoned above the door.

Walking into the large hall, Harry smiled as he approached the counter at the far end. Noticing the creature scribbling in a large book, the young man simply leaned against the counter and waited. After about six minutes the creature finally stopped writing and looked up.

"Can I help you, Jareth?" Harry kept his face blank but inwardly was grinning at the reference. Adjusting one of his gloves he bowed his head respectfully.

"Forgive me sir, but I only recently entered the magical world and I'm wondering what form of creature are you?" Keeping his voice steady, the youth was surprised when the creature appeared shocked at his demeanor.

"I, and my brethren, are a race of creatures known as goblins. Though, we refer to ourselves as T'ghel'ver'aganri, keepers of wealth. We are entrusted with keeping the wealth of the magical world secure. Now, I need your name so that we can get to business." Harry nodded slowly before he pulled out his Hogwarts letter and slid it towards the creature.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter, please follow me." Hopping off his stool, the goblin opened an invisible door that allowed Harry to pass through the counter before he found himself being tugged down a rather dark hallway. To one such as him though, it was very homely. Reaching a massive pair of oak doors the goblin gave a quick rap before pushing through at the raspy "Enter." that could be heard from the other side.

"What is it Rotgut?" Sitting behind a lavish desk was a goblin who could only be described as wizened. Battle scars adorned his face and his eyes bore the look of one who'd seen too much, as said eyes fixed on the black clad boy, he sneered.

"A thousand apologies Director Ragnok, but, you requested to be alerted immediately if Harry Potter entered the bank." The now identified Ragnok stared hard at Harry's forehead searching for something, but before he could comment the youth spoke up.

"If you're looking for the scar, then don't waste your time. I keep it hidden with makeup." The cold emerald eyes of the young wizard met the sharp sapphire eyes of the goblin and each seemed to search the other. Finally the goblin nodded once before fixing the other goblin with a hard look.

"Rotgut, fetch Griphook and then return to the counter." As the goblin teller retreated, Harry surveyed the office. It was decorated with gold and priceless jewels, but, it wasn't tacky. It was designed in a way so that the precious materials' natural beauty was amplified, something that Harry found oddly calming.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Looking towards the voice, Harry's eyes narrowed at the smirk playing across the goblin's face. The little creature waved towards a rather comfortable looking chair that wasn't there before. Giving a small shrug Harry moved and took the indicated seat before crossing his legs and lacing his gloved fingers.

"Now then Mr. Potter, we have some time before Griphook gets here. So, do you have any questions?" Waiting with an expectant expression the goblin folded his hands in front of him.

"I trust that this Griphook, will be the one to inform me of the contents of my parents will?" At Ragnok's nod Harry's eyes flashed dangerously. "I'm sure you know that I was raised among mundanes, so, would you mind telling me of your people, and perhaps a little about the magical world?" A large grin formed on Ragnok's face as he thought for a moment.

"A little bit of information on goblins? I suppose it would start roughly fifteen-hundred years ago, the first goblin king was at the time named Lord Gringott, and yes, the bank is named for him. Anyways, at this time the non-magicals or muggles, were dead set on exterminating the goblin race, until one man stepped in and defended us. This man's name was Alexander Slytherin, great grandfather of Salazar Slytherin, who, was one of the four founders of Hogwarts." Pausing for a moment as he shifted slightly in his chair, the wizened goblin continued with a smile.

"The irony of the fact is, he taught us something that we had never before considered. A blade is drawn, but always returns to its scabbard. We were the blade, but we'd never been sheathed. By fading into the darkness, we were able to convince the mundanes that the "demons" had returned to their home. I suppose it's humbling to think that one man's philosophical views was enough to spare an entire race." Smirking softly, Ragnok leaned forward and laced his fingers.

"Of course, the dwarves took it a step further. They perfected the blade, and sheathed it for all time. Vowing never to draw it again unless the world itself demanded it."

Chewing the inside of his lip thoughtfully, the director continued in a far more somber voice.

"In an act of thanks, Lord Gringott, himself a man of great wisdom, decreed that the heir of Alexander would be the heir of his own line as well. A secret which is well known, but no one has ever dared take the proving." Smirking knowingly, Ragnok leaned back once more into his chair.

"Upon the death of Lord Gringott, the goblin nation formed a High Council of sorts. This council sits to this very day, awaiting the return of the one true king." Ragnok smiled knowingly, all the while watching the youth in front of him with ill-concealed interest.

A rapid knocking at the door made it plainly obvious that Griphook had arrived. Flicking his hand towards the door, Ragnok gave a snort of derision as his cohort entered with a thick stack of books clutched in his gnarled hands.

Waving his hand boredly, the director watched as the newly arrived Griphook deposited the tomes onto a table that materialized itself in the center of the room.

As the second goblin's gaze fell upon Harry a small predatory grin formed on his lips.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter I presume?" The goblin's cheerful red eyes met with Harry's cold green orbs and another, even larger grin worked its way to the surface.

"You would do well not to spread my name about. I've no desire to be known until the time is right." The cold hissing of the young man's voice sent chills down Griphook's spine, while Ragnok felt once again the battle rage of his warrior days.

Nodding quickly, Griphook pulled out a small tablet made of granite as well as a rather sharp looking dagger.

"Err, Mr. Potter, if you would please remove your glove, all it takes is a few drops of blood. I need to make sure you are indeed who you say you are." With a low hiss, Harry snatched the dagger away before pulling off his left glove. Slicing through his left index finger he allowed a thin line of blood to run onto the blade before he passed the knife back. Flicking his wrist he watched as the cut healed itself before replacing his glove.

"I don't like people telling me what to do." Harry watched with slight fascination as Griphook tapped the knife above the stone tablet allowing five drops of blood to land on it. Instantly the blood vanished and then blood red lines began appearing on the tablet, leaning in closer Harry smirked when he saw the lines morphing into words.

HADRIAN JAMES POTTER

Parents: James Maximus Potter (Father) – Lily Roseline Potter nee Evans (Mother)

Heir to:

The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter (BLOOD)

The Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverall (BLOOD)

The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (BLOOD)

Heir to Extinct Bloodlines:

Slytherin

Le Fay

Drakul

"Well Mr. Potter, on behalf of Gringotts I would like to congratulate you on obtaining six of our oldest and wealthiest vaults. Now then, let's examine these records." Ragnok waved his hand towards the large pile of records and all three occupants of the office watched as they vanished and were replaced by six large books. Waving his hand yet again, Ragnok caused the books to soar and land on his desk. Giving a wicked grin to Harry he leaned back in his chair.

"Oldest and wealthiest?" At the goblin's nod Harry's mouth twisted into a dark smirk. "Would I be correct in assuming that these names carry some form of sway within the magical world?" Once again Ragnok nodded causing Harry's smirk to grow even larger. "So, how do I go about staking my claim?" Griphook shuffled the tomes around before he grinned.

"Simply lay your hand upon each tome. If you manage to claim the name, the house rings will appear before you." Grinning as he backed away to give the youth access, he watched intently as Harry's hand hovered above a tome with a large eagle holding an axe in each claw. As soon as the gloved hand touched the aged leather cover a bright flash erupted and revealed a small box sitting on the cover's top left corner.

Giving a low growl, Harry removed his gloves before tucking them away in his back pocket. As he moved to place the ring on his left pinky both Griphook and Ragnok found themselves slightly disgusted. The flesh of his hands looked as if it had been burned away and regrown multiple times and held a waxy appearance. Glaring at the two creatures when he noticed what they were doing Harry gave a warning hiss before he moved to continue claiming his inheritance.

With the Potter ring upon his finger Harry moved down to a tome with a symbol that looked like a triangular eye. Once he'd placed this ring on his right pinky finger he then proceeded to repeat the process several more times. After the eye came a wand crossed with a sword, which was seated onto his right index finger. Then came a large falcon with wings spread, this ring went onto his right middle finger.

As his hand hovered over an image of a large snake, he had a strange feeling come over him, equal parts joy and hatred. When he finally touched the image he growled as he felt his scar burn red hot. Before he placed the next ring on he walked over to a polished sword hanging from the wall and checked to make sure the scar was still hidden.

Once he'd placed the emerald ring on his left middle finger he moved to the final one. An image of a large dragon wrapped around a giant human skull. Placing the final ring on his left index finger, he sighed when he felt his power balance out once again.

Looking back, he noticed that the tomes had vanished and in their place rested a single scroll.

Griphook watched as the young man before him sank back into his chair with a sigh before looking at the scroll in front of him with a curious expression. Giving a small grin, the goblin hopped up, snatched the scroll, and headed for the door.

"I'll be back." As the door shut behind Griphook, the lone human in the room arched an eyebrow. Noticing the raised eyebrow Ragnok explained.

"He's going to fill the scroll with the important information concerning each of your vaults. Those books were the grimoires for their respective families, and while they can be summoned by you at any time, the records must be retrieved manually." Ragnok shifted slightly in his chair as he watched Harry mentally chew over the information.

"I believe you promised to finish the history lesson?" The goblin let out a low chuckle before he leaned forward in his chair.

"You asked about the heir business concerning house Slytherin? A little over fifty years ago, a young man by the name of Thomas Riddle was born. He was not, an heir at all! He was merely a descendant from the bastard line of Salazar's youngest son." Here Ragnok paused before opening a drawer and pulling out a bowl of caramel colored candies. Taking one for himself and then offering Harry one, he continued.

"Anyways, I'll get to that in a minute, first, let me explain why the line was considered a bastard line. Salazar, and Godric Gryffindor were the closest friends anyone had ever seen. They used to joke about being brothers born to different parents. Sorry, getting off topic, like I was saying, Godric and Salazar were the best of friends, and then, their children were as well. Salazar married Rowena Ravenclaw, and Godric settled down with Helga Hufflepuff." Ragnok paused to give Harry a chance to ask the question burning in his eyes.

"If their children followed in their footsteps, then what led to the youngest being cast out from house Slytherin?" Harry rolled his tongue over his candy as he watched the goblin in front of him give a small chuckle.

"How right you are, perhaps I should've said, that their first children followed in their footsteps. The second born of Salazar developed a hatred of muggles, though nobody knows exactly why, I'd guess that it had something to do with a romance gone bad. Salazar wasn't pleased when Aristodemos Slytherin decided to go on a crusade to finish off all muggleborn witches and wizards." Ragnok paused long enough for a breath before continuing.

"So, in order to ensure that the fool would never darken the names of either Slytherin, or Ravenclaw, his parents declared him a bastard, not in the sense of he was born out of wed-lock, but in the sense that he had bastardized their name with his beliefs. After casting him out, Salazar placed the name of Gaunt upon him, and then cursed the line to an eternity of poverty and suffering." Here Ragnok paused to take a sip of a bright blue beverage that had appeared on his desk. Waving his hand a similar drink appeared in front of Harry, minus the pink smoke. After taking a sip of his drink Harry motioned for Ragnok to continue.

"So now we have Aristodemos Gaunt, the epitomy of pig-headedness. He decides that he will start his own line of "proper" witches and wizards. So he finds a pureblood witch who was, a dirty secret among her family since she was born because of a wife's infidelity. Needless to say, her mother was executed the second she finished giving birth. Now, we've got two fools, Aristodemos and Medea Gaunt." Again, Ragnok paused for a breath.

"They then proceed to birth a line which, to this day, is still the worst case of inbreeding in the entire wizarding world. The last of this line was a powerless witch by the name of Merope Gaunt. She fell in love with a muggle and birthed a young man by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was indeed a descendant, but not the heir of Slytherin. After all, his line had been cast from Slytherin's family. Though he was related, he wasn't eligible to be the heir." Here Ragnok stopped to finish his drink before he leaned back in his chair with a small sigh.

"I'll tell you more about the goblins in a bit. Griphook's waiting outside the door."