Voices in the Vault
"Grandparents?" Harry asked, looking at the two elderly figures in the portrait with great interest and even a hint of happiness.
"That's right. We are the parents of your father, James Potter," said the man with a smile full of affection for Harry. "My name is Fleamont Potter, and this is your grandmother, Euphemia Potter. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry," he added with another warm smile.
"You really do look like your father when he was a boy," Euphemia said softly, her eyes shining with tenderness.
Harry didn't know how to respond. He had never heard anything about his grandparents, not even from his parents. His mother hadn't known them either, and no one had ever told him about them.
"Is that them?" he asked, pointing to another painting off to the side.
"That's right," replied Euphemia with a trace of sadness. She then lifted her gaze back to Harry, and also to Percy and Sally, who were still standing nearby, somewhat defensive.
Harry, as if noticing the tension, spoke at once.
"This is my mom, Sally… and my brother, Perseus," he said with a note of pride in his voice.
"Is that so? Then it's a pleasure to meet you," said Fleamont with a sincere smile, joined by Euphemia, who accepted both of them with complete calm, as if instantly welcoming them into Harry's family.
"Thank you for taking such good care of him. He looks rather plump, so he must be eating well," Fleamont joked, just before receiving a light smack on the arm from Euphemia. The gesture, however, was enough to break the ice.
"No, it's simply what I had to do. After all, Harry is my son," said Sally, calming slightly as she tenderly stroked the boy's head.
"Harry is my younger brother," Percy added while lowering the sword he had still been holding.
"That's not true!" Harry protested at once, crossing his arms. "You're the younger one!" he added firmly.
Percy let out an exaggerated sigh, as if dealing with a spoiled child, which only served to irritate Harry even more.
Fleamont and Euphemia couldn't help but smile at the scene. "It seems the two of them are very close and… chaotic," Euphemia said happily, watching Harry so animated while arguing with his brother.
"You can say that again… I was really hesitating about whether to tell them about the magical world and what the two of them might cause," Sally admitted with a sigh.
"Oh? You're not part of the magical world?" Fleamont asked with interest.
"No. In fact, I didn't know anything about it until just a couple of weeks ago. Well, I had a note left by Harry's grandmother, but it didn't explain much… only about the school of witchcraft and wizardry," Sally explained.
"Harry's grandmother?" both elders asked almost at the same time, exchanging a serious look. "Did you actually see her in person?" Euphemia asked.
"Yes. Why? Is something wrong?" Sally asked, a bit surprised.
"In truth, we never knew anything about Lily's mother. She was always rather elusive. All we know is that Lily learned extraordinary magic from her. And… well, that she and her sister didn't seem to share the same mother. That was what made the younger sister hate her so deeply," Euphemia explained with a trace of seriousness.
"That's why she always wanted to make sure that, if tragedy ever struck, Harry would never end up in his aunt's care. It's good he didn't," Fleamont said with regret. "It's as if she knew something terrible could happen to them both… truly a sadness," he added in a subdued voice, recalling his son and daughter-in-law.
"That's right," said Sally with a serious look. "But in reality, Harry was left with his aunt by a man named Dumbledore. Then Harry's grandmother brought him to me, so that I could take good care of him," she revealed firmly.
The elders exchanged a moment of silence before responding.
"Now it all makes sense. She must have known what Lily wanted, while Dumbledore did not," said Fleamont, shaking his head. "If you were chosen, then she trusted you to care for him better than his own aunt."
"Harry is my son. I'll protect him even if it costs me my life. They both are… and I wouldn't mind losing mine if it's for them," Sally said with determination, caressing Harry and Percy.
Both children hugged her tightly, lifting their little heads with smiles of happiness.
"Hehehe… you truly are a mother," said Euphemia with an emotional smile.
"He's better off with her than with that fool Sirius, isn't he?" Fleamont muttered with irony. "I just hope that blockhead is at least fulfilling his role as godfather properly."
Hearing this, Harry tilted his head in confusion.
"What's a godfather?" he asked curiously.
Percy also showed interest.
"It's someone you trust, chosen by the parents to take on the role of caring for or supporting the child if one day they're no longer there," Sally explained calmly. She had never trusted anyone enough to choose godparents for her children. Yet the thought made her frown. "… Harry has a godfather?" she asked, turning toward the portrait.
"Mmm? Isn't Sirius still around somewhere?" Fleamont asked, frowning.
Euphemia looked upset as well. "He should have been the first to care for Harry after what happened to Lily and James."
"We had a portrait in James's house, so we were able to see everything… until the house started burning. The last thing we saw was that giant man, under Dumbledore's orders, coming in and taking Harry before the portrait was destroyed. But we also heard Sirius's motorcycle approaching," Fleamont explained.
"That's true. That sound was unmistakable. Sirius always played around with that motorcycle; James helped him fix it many times in his garage," Euphemia added, her eyes glimmering faintly with nostalgia.
"Who is Sirius?" Harry asked in confusion.
The question pulled them out of their memories, forcing Euphemia and Fleamont to focus. Sirius had never been part of Harry's childhood, and now they had to explain.
Fleamont let out an irritated sigh, anger restrained, but finally answered.
"Sirius Black was your father's best friend. He was named your godfather, to protect you if anything ever happened to them. He practically grew up with James since they both entered Hogwarts, and he lived with us for a long time. He even accepted us as his own surrogate parents. But… it seems those bonds don't mean anything to him," Fleamont said, visibly frustrated.
"That's enough. I don't believe Sirius is like that… we know him far too well," Euphemia said, clapping her hands gently to calm her husband.
"Then what? What kind of godfather abandons his godson without protecting him as he should?" Fleamont muttered, still angry.
"Fleamont," Euphemia reproached firmly. "Perhaps… something happened to him."
The man opened his eyes, realizing what he had overlooked. His mouth trembled slightly before both, in unison, turned their gaze toward Sally.
"Girl, was the goblin who brought you here Einjard?" Fleamont asked gravely.
"Einjard?" Sally repeated in confusion. "Well… I don't actually know his name. He was a goblin wearing warrior armor. He seemed to be the chief here," she explained cautiously.
"Yes, that's him. Please, could you call him?" Fleamont requested seriously.
The firm look of the elders made her nod without argument. Sally turned toward her children, signaling them with a gesture to behave, and then stepped out of the vault.
The moment she crossed the door, she saw him. The goblin stood with his arms crossed, waiting calmly. When he noticed her presence, he raised his eyes to her.
"Are they still not finished? I have too many things to do," he said curtly. Sally almost remarked that he looked more like a guard than a leader, but chose to keep it to herself.
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Fleamont and Mrs. Euphemia request your presence," she explained respectfully.
"I see." The goblin adjusted his armor and walked into the vault as if nothing was amiss. As he stepped inside, his gaze lingered briefly on a corner piled with gold. A flicker of greed flashed in his eyes, but he quickly pushed it aside and walked straight toward the Potters' portrait.
Meanwhile, Percy and Harry had already lost some interest. Sitting on the floor, they leafed through a book that Euphemia had told them to open to keep themselves entertained.
The moment they turned the first page, it crumpled suddenly and shifted shape, transforming into a small paper dragon that stood up and walked out of the book.
"Woaa!" they both exclaimed at once, fascinated.
On the next page, a paper griffin appeared. Upon spotting the dragon, it immediately launched into a miniature battle. Both boys laughed with delight, cheering for the little creatures.
The goblin ignored them and planted himself before the portrait, his stance firm and confident.
"It's strange to see you after so long. The last time I saw you… you were still alive," Einjard remarked calmly.
"The life of wizards is different from that of goblins," Fleamont replied evenly. "Let's leave such nonsense aside. Could you tell us what happened to Sirius Black?"
"Black…" Einjard repeated, pausing. But his thoughts were not on the story, rather on how much he might charge for sharing it.
Fleamont, however, seemed to know that look well and spoke before the goblin could.
"I remember you owed me five hundred galleons. A debt I couldn't reclaim in life. And goblins always keep their promises," he said firmly.
Einjard grumbled under his breath, irritated.
"And we never said repayment had to be made during my lifetime," Fleamont pressed, relentless.
"Hmph." The goblin pursed his lips, resigned. "But let it be clear: I owe you nothing more."
And then he spoke, as if recounting something of no consequence.
"Sirius Black was imprisoned in Azkaban on October 31, 1981, just one day after the remains of the Potters were found. He was accused of destroying an entire Muggle street and killing several of them while supposedly trying to murder his lifelong friend, Peter Pettigrew. He was blamed for betraying James Potter and Lily Evans, for revealing the Fidelius secret and handing over their hiding place to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Without a trial, he was condemned to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. As of now, he should still be rotting in that filthy place."
Euphemia clutched her chest, as though struck by an invisible blow. Fleamont, meanwhile, clenched his fists in fury.
"What?" he roared, his voice vibrating with anger.
"What are you talking about! Sirius was never the Secret Keeper," Euphemia burst out, she who so rarely lost her composure. "It was that coward Peter Pettigrew!" she added furiously.
This time it was Fleamont who placed a hand on his wife to calm her. She was usually serene, but when angered, she was fearsome.
"Please, Einjard. Give me the full story. You must know everything that happened," Fleamont demanded seriously.
The goblin scowled, still displeased at not gaining anything in return. But a debt was a debt.
"Fine. It's true. Sirius Black didn't betray his friend. He was framed. The real traitor was Peter Pettigrew, who passed the information to the Death Eaters the moment he became Secret Keeper. Sirius arrived at the house and found his friends dead, their home reduced to ruins. The giant, under Dumbledore's orders, didn't let him take his godson. So Sirius handed over his flying motorcycle and went after Pettigrew. It was Pettigrew who blew up the street, murdering the Muggles. Only his little finger was left behind."
Einjard drew a breath before continuing, his tone flat.
"When the Aurors arrived, Sirius had lost his mind, shouting that he had finally killed him, believing he had avenged his friends. He was completely broken… and someone took advantage of that to get rid of him. Perhaps even someone from his own family. He was sent to Azkaban, blamed for everything."
Fleamont closed his eyes, releasing a heavy sigh. Euphemia, on the other hand, broke into tears, unable to imagine the suffering Sirius must be enduring in that place.
"Did Dumbledore know this?" Fleamont asked, his voice dark.
The goblin grimaced.
"There was too much money and too much influence invested in making sure Black stayed ruined. With no evidence or proof, there wasn't much he could do. Those pulling the strings were also desperate to track down the Boy Who Lived. So the old man was too busy hiding him, making himself the magical guardian, and sending him into the Muggle world where he wouldn't be easily found. I suppose he did it out of guilt… for not ensuring the Potters were truly safe. He spent nearly his entire fortune to make sure no information of Harry's whereabouts leaked," Einjard said, glancing toward Harry.
The goblin's voice faded into the heavy air of the vault. A weighty silence spread, broken only by the little paper creatures still battling on the floor before Harry and Percy.