Meanwhile, at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions…
Harry stood stiffly on the stool as enchanted tape measures danced around him, taking measurements faster than his eyes could follow.
He wasn't just getting the standard Hogwarts robes—though these bore a unique crest stitched in silver and green thread: a coiled Hydra instead of a serpent, the symbol of House Hydra.
He was also being outfitted head to toe in a completely new wardrobe. No more Dudley's baggy cast-offs. No more sleeves five inches too long or trousers dragging behind him.
Lady Slytherin had sent explicit orders:
"The Heir of House Hydra does not wear secondhand."
Harry didn't argue.
---
At Ollivander's Wand Shop…
"Try this one—maple and unicorn hair, nine inches, nice and flexible," Ollivander murmured.
Harry gave it a swish. Nothing.
Ollivander sighed, already reaching for the next.
After dozens of failed attempts, the old man finally paused. His fingers hesitated over a wand box on the very top shelf. Slowly, reverently, he brought it down.
"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Supple. A curious combination…"
As Harry closed his fingers around it, warmth surged up his arm. A breeze ruffled his hair. Golden light flared at the tip in a smooth arc.
Ollivander looked oddly... unsettled.
"Curious… very curious."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"You keep saying that. It's a magic wand. How curious can it be?"
Ollivander's eyes glinted. "Because the phoenix whose feather resides in your wand… gave only one other. And that wand—" He glanced toward the shadows behind Harry. "—belongs to someone who left a scar on the world."
Harry sighed, already half-tuned out. "Right. Got it. Magic, fate, mysterious destiny. Is there anything else I should get with it?"
That was how Harry left the shop not just with a wand, but also:
A wand polishing kit
A leather wrist-holder
And a beginner's guide to wand lore ("Wands and You: Knowing Your Magical Partner")
He wasn't the only one. A few other kids tied to Slytherin clans—like Cassius Nott and Marcella Rosier—also received the same gear.
But Tristan was the most excited.
"Wrist holder, huh?" he grinned, lifting his jacket to reveal a sleek holster hidden at his side—Muggle-crafted, wand-ready. "That's what I'm talking about, kid. Gotta learn the quick-draw."
"Quick-draw?" Harry asked.
Tristan nodded seriously. "In my world, armed robbers don't wait for you to find your weapon. If they pull first, you're dead. Same with duels. Whoever casts first usually walks away."
He gave Harry a firm pat on the shoulder.
"You'll be training with me. Reflexes save lives."
---
Later that afternoon, all 100 kids were herded into another shop—"Witchway Gadgets & Magical Gizmos."
Each student was handed a small, glowing red sphere.
"A Remembrall?" Harry muttered, turning it in his hands.
"It glows red when you've forgotten something," Hermione said from somewhere to his left. "But it doesn't tell you what you've forgotten."
"Brilliant," Harry deadpanned.
Tristan leaned in, arms crossed.
"You'll want that," he muttered. "There's a lot of magic that messes with memories. Spells. Potions. Even enchanted music."
Harry blinked.
"…Enchanted music?"
"You'll see," Tristan said darkly. "Memory's more fragile than a wand made of ice. We use these in the field all the time."
Meanwhile, they heard the frustrated scream of a mother as everyone turned to Narcissa.
"Just take the Damm Remembrall Draco".
The entire shop paused for a moment, all eyes turning toward the usually elegant and composed Narcissa Malfoy as her patience finally snapped.
Draco, standing nearby with his arms crossed and nose in the air, huffed indignantly. "Mother, I don't need one. I never forget anything."
Narcissa glared down at him, her voice now low and dangerously calm. "Draco, I watched you put your shoes in the pantry this morning and then blame the house-elf for stealing them. You are getting the Remembrall."
Some of the other Slytherin kids tried to muffle their laughter. Theo whispered to Blaise, "I give it a week before Draco charms it to explode glitter instead of glowing."
Tristan, standing beside Harry, leaned in and said, "Note to self, memory charms or confusion jinxes are apparently common enough we give kids magical alarms."
Harry, still getting used to all of this, blinked. "Wait... people forget their own minds often enough that this is normal?"
Tristan just nodded. "Welcome to the magical world. Memory's the first thing magic tries to break."
Dudley, hearing this from the back with his new wand tucked behind his ear and his badger sniffing curiously at a broomstick display, chuckled. "Honestly, I could use one too. I still forget what I had for breakfast."
The shopkeeper perked up. "Ah, then may I recommend the deluxe model? It glows and sings a warning if you forget something truly important."
Petunia, who was staring at a rack of enchanted gloves that warmed themselves, muttered, "I wish I had one of those back when I was hiding letters from Lily. Would've saved me a lot of migraines."
And just like that, the Remembrall became the hottest item of the shopping trip—except for Draco, who eventually accepted his with the most dramatic sigh in Diagon Alley history.
(Author's Note: For the readers—no, Petunia and Dudley didn't see Harry in the shop. They only overheard the Slytherin Clan chatting nearby and remained clueless about his presence.)
After the shopping spree, Harry was escorted to Gringotts for one final, important errand—transferring the Vault of Hydra into his name.
That was supposed to be a formal, quiet affair.
It wasn't.
The moment they entered the marble hall of the goblin-run bank, it descended into chaos, or at least something resembling a magical divorce court with extra weaponry.
The goblin in charge of the vault transfer—Grimbore, by name and nature—was snarky, smug, and very proud of his quill collection. "The Vault of Hydra requires blood verification, soul-echo matching, ancestral line tracing, and seventeen different signatures in black basilisk ink. House policy."
Harry blinked. "Seventeen?"
Tristan muttered, "Goblin bureaucracy makes the Ministry look like a lemonade stand."
Then came the real problem.
A member of the House of Jörmungandr, who apparently worked at the bank, stormed in halfway through the process. "Why does he get the Hydra Vault without a full bloodline audit? This paperwork is ten inches thick!"
Rosa's eyes twitched.
In a flash, she had her wand out and was very prepared to duel three goblins and five bloodlines at once. "I'll curse you and your last five generations, Grimbore. I know where your grandmother lives."
Tristan had to physically hold her back. "Rosa. Rosa. No generational curses in the lobby. That was literally in the peace treaty."
Harry stood awkwardly in the middle of the confrontation, utterly bewildered. He turned to Daphne, who was calmly sipping something cold and lethal-looking.
"…Are they always like this?" he asked.
Daphne didn't even look up. "That's how they flirt."
Harry froze.
And then it clicked.
Rosa and Tristan weren't just old colleagues or allies.
They were ex-husband and wife.
Which meant… Daphne was Tristan's daughter.
Harry just stared blankly at her. "Wait. Does that mean—?"
"Yes," Daphne replied flatly. "My family tree is a war crime."
"…Good to know."
Harry looked at the man—tall, grim-faced, and draped in robes marked with the green-gold sigil of House Jörmungandr—as the echoes of Rosa's threats still lingered in the air.
Calmly, Harry asked, "Do you have a problem with the Hydra Vault being transferred to me?"
The man arched a brow, arms folded, the gold rings on his fingers catching the torchlight. He didn't look angry—just impatient in that very old-money, I-have-better-things-to-do way.
"No," he said plainly. "Just wondering why it's taking so long. The House of Hydra has been dead for a century. You'd think by now they'd have streamlined the paperwork."
Grimbore the Goblin let out an exaggerated sigh. "If your House had streamlined anything, maybe I wouldn't need to decode fourteen layers of magical encryption on a vault that thinks I'm an intruder every three seconds."
The man from Jörmungandr gave Grimbore a sideways glance. "Your vault security screams like a banshee when someone blinks wrong."
"Thank you," Rosa muttered acidly, still half-ready to duel someone. "I thought it was just me."
Harry, however, wasn't done. He stepped forward, voice steady. "Then let's settle this quickly. You have no claim to the vault. I have the key, the legacy, and the blood right. You want things to move faster? Help instead of complaining."
The man paused. His eyes flickered—assessing, calculating.
Then, to everyone's surprise, he gave a small smirk.
"Fair enough," he said. "The House of Jörmungandr respects those who speak plainly. Especially to bureaucracy."
He stepped aside, folding his arms again. "Carry on, Lord Hydra."
Harry blinked.
"Yeah sure?"
Rosa snorted. Tristan groaned. Daphne raised her cup in mock-toast.
Grimbore just muttered, "Great. Another noble brat with a death vault. Just what we needed.
After several tense minutes, a large stack of ancient parchment was brought forth—heavy, rune-etched, and humming with enchantments older than Hogwarts itself. The goblin clerk placed it on the obsidian table with a grunt.
Grimbore tapped the top page. "Sign here. Blood-bound. It'll confirm inheritance and verify legitimacy. Standard vault protocol for extinct clans."
Harry gave a small nod, took the silver quill—its tip already glowing faintly red—and pressed it gently to his finger. A single drop of blood slid down and etched his name in crimson:
Harry James Potter.
At once, the runes across the parchment flared to life. Glowing red and gold lines began to snake across the page, forming a genealogical tree that stretched wide and deep, tracing the entirety of Harry's known lineage.
The Potter line was expected. Solid. Straightforward. All names familiar from his father's side—Charlus, Fleamont, James. Nothing surprising.
But when the bloodlines shifted toward his mother's side… that's when the murmurs began.
Because halfway down the maternal line, the family tree didn't stop at Evans—it curved, twisted, and branched downward, burrowing into an older, forgotten root… before landing on a name inscribed in shimmering green ink.
A name that pulsed with an ancient magical weight:
Zerachiel Hydra.
Rosa let out a low whistle and folded her arms. "Damn. You're a direct descendant of his children. Not even the Malfoys can claim that." She smirked. "They've been bragging for decades that they had Hydra blood in their cousins. But you? You're from the main branch."
Harry blinked and leaned closer to the name. "Is… that a good thing? Or a bad thing?"
Tristan shrugged, hands in his coat pockets, utterly unbothered. "Depends on who's asking. In a political sense? Very good. You have legitimate claim, confirmed by blood and vault rights. It also proves Lily Potter—your mother—was a descendant of the Hydra Clan. Meaning no one can legally dispute your right to be Head of House Hydra."
Harry stared at the tree, his eyes flicking between his mother's name and the ancient Hydra name glowing above it.
"…Huh."
Daphne leaned close and whispered with a playful smirk, "Congratulations, Lord Hydra. Try not to let it go to your head."
Harry groaned. "Oh, Merlin help me."
Rosa added cheerfully, "That's Lord Merlin help you now."
Grimbore muttered in the background, "I hate noble families."
Harry looked between them, confused. "So… quick question. You said Hydra Clan, not House. What's the difference?"
Tristan nodded, folding his arms. "Right. History crash course time. When Salazar Slytherin and his wife—whoever she actually was—founded the Slytherin Clan, they united five ancient bloodlines tied to their family: Hydra, Jörmungandr, Apophis, Ananta, and Ouroboros. These five formed the core of the original clan."
He gestured casually. "Later, eight other houses branched off from these five. That's why we have Ten Major Houses and Three Monitor Houses now. Again, that's the very short version."
Harry blinked. "Okay. I now have… so many questions."
Rosa snorted. "Then ask the House of Apophis. They're in charge of the official lectures. All the kids will get the full story during the summer break after first year anyway."
Harry just nodded slowly, his brain buffering.
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. "So… did the other three Founders do the same thing?"
Rosa nodded. "Yeah. After Salazar created the Slytherin Clan through those five bloodlines, the other three Founders followed suit—though in their own ways."
She leaned back in her seat. "Gryffindor focused on warrior bloodlines and knightly codes, gathering clans built on courage, loyalty, and combat. Hufflepuff formed hers around the concepts of unity and balance—she blended magical and non-magical lineages, even some creatures. And Ravenclaw? Well, hers were intellectual Houses—focused on legacy through knowledge, art, and magical theory."
Tristan added with a smirk, "Basically, Salazar started the trend, but the rest made their own versions of it. That's how we got the Four Great Clans—each with internal Houses, traditions, and bloodline systems."
Harry gave a long blink. "So instead of just four Houses… there's basically four empires pretending to be schools?"
Rosa laughed. "Welcome to magical politics."
Daphne looked at Harry as she spoke. "Don't ask, haag Hogwarts job is in balancing this, the creator hasn't though it yeat".
Harry looked at Daphne as he spoke. "Daphne don't break the fourth wall".
Daphne gave him a deadpan look. "Harry, we're surrounded by ancient secret clans, sentient weapons, and a boy who accidentally summoned a Basilisk egg because it liked his vibe. I think the fourth wall was broken, set on fire, and then politely buried by the House of Ananta."
Harry sighed. "Fair. Still… try not to remind the universe that the plot isn't fully structured yet."
Theo raised his hand casually. "Too late. I think the narrative just gave us a side quest. There's a scroll glowing in my bag."
Blaise muttered, "Please tell me it's not another hidden trial involving bloodline purity, ancient prophecies, and a quiz on Slytherin clan hierarchy."
Tristan: "It probably is. You might want to study."
Harry groaned. "I just wanted to go to school. Maybe play Quidditch."
Daphne gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Too bad. You got legacy, mystery, and cosmic responsibility instead."
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy, also I checked the votes and it seems like Parvati Won, so yeah she is joining Harry Harem