The Hogwarts Express rocked gently as it carved its way through the rolling countryside, carrying students home for the summer holidays. Chris leaned back against the worn upholstery of their compartment, watching the landscape blur into streaks of green and gold outside the window. The familiar rhythm of the train's wheels against the tracks provided a soothing backdrop to Susan and Hannah's animated conversation about their summer plans.
"The conference is in Paris," Susan was saying, her eyes bright with anticipation. "But Aunt Amelia promised we'd visit the magical district in Nice too. She says the Mediterranean magical community has entirely different approaches to certain branches of magic, especially weather charms."
Hannah sighed dramatically. "Meanwhile, I'll be up to my elbows in magical fertilizer. Dad's crossbreeding project is apparently 'at a critical juncture.' The Malaysian specimens need constant monitoring because they're sensitive to changes in magical auras." She mimicked her father's serious tone with the last phrase.
"At least you'll learn something useful," Susan pointed out. "Herbology skills are practical. What am I going to do with knowledge about French weather charms in England?"
"Make it rain only on people you don't like?" Chris suggested with a smile.
The girls laughed, and Hannah turned to him. "What about you? Still just studying at home and visiting Diagon Alley?"
Chris nodded, keeping his expression neutral despite the excitement building inside him at the thought of what actually awaited. "Nothing too exciting. The family library has some texts I want to go through before third year. And I need to visit Gringotts to handle some estate matters."
Susan raised an eyebrow. "Estate matters? You make it sound like you're eighty years old managing investments, not twelve enjoying summer holidays."
"Technically, I am managing investments," Chris replied with a small smile. "Being the last of your line comes with responsibilities."
Before either girl could respond, a soft knock sounded at their compartment door. The frosted glass slid open to reveal Harry Potter standing awkwardly in the corridor, his hair even messier than usual from the train journey.
"Sorry to interrupt," Harry said, his eyes darting briefly to Susan and Hannah before settling on Chris. "Could I talk to you for a minute? It won't take long."
Chris nodded, rising from his seat. "Of course."
"We'll be right here," Hannah said cheerfully, "pretending we're not dying of curiosity."
Susan elbowed her, but her own curious gaze followed Chris as he stepped into the corridor with Harry, sliding the compartment door closed behind him.
The narrow passageway was mostly empty, with most students settled in compartments for the long journey. A few first-years raced past, chasing what looked suspiciously like an escaped Chocolate Frog, but otherwise, they had relative privacy.
"I wanted to thank you," Harry said without preamble, his green eyes earnest behind his glasses. "Your advice about writing to Sirius, it's changed everything."
Chris smiled, genuine warmth filling him at seeing the positive change in Harry. The boy still had the slight build of someone who had known hunger, but there was color in his cheeks now, and his posture held none of the defensive hunching that had characterized him before.
"I'm glad it worked out," Chris said. "You two have been corresponding regularly?"
Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Almost every week. He's still... recovering, you know, from Azkaban. But he tells these amazing stories about my parents, things nobody ever told me before." His voice dropped slightly. "He says as soon as he's settled properly, he wants me to visit. Not for the whole summer yet, he says he needs to get himself sorted out first, but even a few weeks would be..."
He trailed off, seemingly unable to find words adequate for what this opportunity meant to him.
"That's brilliant, Harry," Chris said, meaning it. The timeline was accelerating compared to the original sequence of events he remembered from his past life. Already, Sirius was taking a more active role, planning for Harry's future rather than hiding and sending occasional letters.
"What about the Gringotts situation?" Chris asked carefully. "Have you looked into what we discussed?"
Harry's expression grew more serious. "Sirius says to leave it for now. He was furious when I told him, but he thinks it's better if he handles Dumbledore and the Weasleys himself once he's stronger. He's writing to some solicitor who used to work for my family."
"That's wise," Chris agreed. "Better to have an adult with legal standing fight those battles for you."
Harry hesitated, then added in a lower voice, "He also said to be careful who I trust at Hogwarts. That Dumbledore isn't... that he might not always have my best interests at heart." He looked troubled by this concept, but not as devastated as he might have been months ago. "It's hard to know what to think sometimes."
"Trust your instincts," Chris advised. "And remember, you don't have to figure everything out alone anymore."
Relief washed over Harry's face. "Yeah. That's what Sirius says too." He straightened, looking more like the confident young wizard he could become than the neglected boy he had been. "Anyway, I should get back. Ron and Hermione are probably wondering where I've gone. Thanks again, really."
"Anytime," Chris replied. "Have a good summer, Harry."
"You too."
As Harry walked away, Chris allowed himself a moment of pure satisfaction. Such small nudges, a casual suggestion that Harry write to his godfather, a hint about checking his Gringotts accounts, and already the future was reshaping itself. Harry with a proper guardian, one who cared for him and would protect his interests, was a Harry who might approach the world ahead with more resources, both emotional and practical.
When Chris slid the compartment door open again, both girls looked up expectantly.
"Well?" Susan demanded. "What was that about?"
Chris shrugged casually as he reclaimed his seat. "Just some advice I gave him earlier in the term. He wanted to let me know it worked out."
"That's it?" Hannah looked disappointed. "The Boy Who Lived specifically sought you out just to say 'thanks for the advice'?"
"Some advice is worth a proper thank you," Chris replied with a cryptic smile. "Now, weren't you telling us about those Malaysian plants that can sense magical auras?"
As Hannah resumed her tale of exotic botany, Chris turned his gaze back to the passing countryside. Harry was on a better path now, with proper support developing around him. Meanwhile, Chris had his own summer plans to anticipate, Grimoires to study, alliances to strengthen, and a forest to cleanse of its eight-legged infestation.
The Hogwarts Express continued its journey south, carrying them all toward a summer that promised to be anything but ordinary.
The marble halls of Gringotts gleamed in the summer sunlight that streamed through the high windows, casting long shadows behind the columns that lined the main floor. Chris strode confidently across the polished stone, aware of the subtle shift in the goblins' attention as he passed. Unlike the nervous witches and wizards who approached the tellers with hesitation, he moved with the assured bearing of someone who understood that in this domain, respect earned respect. The goblin guards at the entrance to the administrative section inclined their heads slightly as he approached, a gesture nearly invisible to casual observers but significant in goblin culture.
"Lord Emrys," a goblin with a particularly impressive set of gold-rimmed spectacles greeted him, "Chief Ragnok awaits you. Follow me."
The administrative corridors of Gringotts were a stark contrast to the public areas, here, the ostentatious marble gave way to darker stone etched with ancient goblin runes. Torches burned in iron sconces, their flames an unusual blue-white that cast everything in sharp relief. As they descended deeper into the complex, the temperature dropped noticeably, and the sounds of the bank above faded away.
They stopped before a set of massive bronze doors engraved with scenes of goblin victories in battle. The escort touched a specific point on the door with one long finger, and the doors swung inward silently despite their obvious weight.
"Lord Emrys of House Ambrosia," the goblin announced formally before stepping aside.
Chief Ragnok's office befitted his status as leader of the Goblin Nation. The circular chamber was lined with weapons and artifacts of goblin craftsmanship, each piece worth a small fortune. Behind an imposing desk of polished wood, Ragnok himself sat in a chair that resembled a throne more than office furniture. Despite his relatively small stature by human standards, the goblin chief radiated authority that filled the space.
"Lord Emrys," Ragnok's gravelly voice held a note of genuine welcome. "Your presence honors Gringotts."
Chris bowed with precise formality. "The honour is mine, Chief Ragnok. I thank you for receiving me."
Ragnok gestured to a chair across from his desk. Unlike most furniture provided for wizards in goblin domains, this chair was of equal height to Ragnok's own, a subtle acknowledgment of equality that did not go unnoticed.
"You come to discuss the forest matter," Ragnok stated once Chris was seated. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Chris confirmed. "In accordance with the ancient alliance between the Goblin Nation and House Ambrosia, I formally request the aid of your warriors in eliminating the acromantula colony that infests the Forbidden Forest."
Ragnok's sharp teeth gleamed as he smiled. "Direct and to the point. Refreshing, after dealing with wizards who dance around their intentions for hours." He steepled his long fingers. "You mentioned in your letter that the centaurs are also involved?"
"They have agreed to participate," Chris nodded. "Their knowledge of the forest terrain will be invaluable, and their archers are legendary. But the main assault will require the battle magic and strategic expertise that only goblin warriors can provide."
The flattery wasn't empty, goblin battle tactics were indeed superior to most magical approaches. Centuries of being underestimated had led the goblins to develop combat methods that were as efficient as they were devastating.
"And what do you offer in return for this service?" Ragnok asked, his tone turning more businesslike.
"All spoils of the battle," Chris replied without hesitation. "The acromantula venom alone is worth seventeen Galleons per ounce. Their silk can fetch hundreds of Galleons per yard in the right markets. And there are other components, eyes, fangs, chitin, valuable in various potions and crafting applications."
Ragnok's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "A generous offer. Some might even call it too generous."
"I seek the elimination of a threat, not profit," Chris explained. "The value of having that part of the forest cleansed far outweighs any material gain I might extract from the creatures' remains."
The goblin chief studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. The Goblin Nation accepts these terms." He leaned forward slightly. "But there is something you should know about this operation, Lord Emrys. It will serve a dual purpose for my people."
Chris waited, giving Ragnok space to elaborate.
"Every three years, we hold what you might call a rite of passage. Young goblins who have completed their training must prove themselves in actual combat before they can be recognized as adult warriors." Ragnok's voice carried pride as he continued. "This acromantula hunt will serve as this year's Blooding."
Understanding dawned on Chris. This wasn't just a strategic operation to the goblins, it was a culturally significant event, a tradition that maintained their warrior society's values and structure.
"I'm honored that you would incorporate such an important tradition into our joint venture," Chris said sincerely. "The young warriors could hardly ask for a more worthy challenge."
Ragnok seemed pleased by this response. "Indeed. Acromantulas are intelligent, dangerous prey that require both individual skill and coordinated tactics to defeat. A perfect test."
"I would like to fight alongside them," Chris said suddenly, the words forming before he'd fully considered them, but once spoken, he knew they were right.
The goblin chief's bushy eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. "You? A wizard lord, fighting beside goblin younglings in their Blooding?" He studied Chris with new intensity. "Most wizards would be content to watch from a safe distance."
"I'm not most wizards," Chris replied simply. "And if we are truly allies, then we should face danger together, not just plan it from comfortable offices."
A slow smile spread across Ragnok's face, revealing more of those pointed teeth. "You continue to surprise me, Lord Emrys. Your ancestors would be proud." He gave a short, decisive nod. "Very well. You may join the battle party, though I warn you, we will not slow our pace to accommodate you, nor will we divert warriors to your protection."
"I would expect nothing less," Chris answered. "I've been studying combat magic in preparation. I won't be a liability."
"See that you aren't," Ragnok said, but there was approval in his tone rather than doubt. "I will coordinate with the centaur leader directly, as we have our own longstanding agreements with their kind. When the date is set, likely within the next three weeks, you will be notified by owl."
Chris rose, recognising that the meeting had reached its natural conclusion. "Thank you, Chief Ragnok. May your gold flow and your enemies tremble."
"And may your magic strengthen and your house prosper," Ragnok returned the traditional farewell. "Until the hunt, Lord Emrys."
As Chris was escorted back through the twisting corridors of Gringotts, he felt a deep satisfaction. The alliance was secured, the operation in motion. Soon, the forest would be cleansed of its most dangerous inhabitants, clearing the path to Hufflepuff's Chamber.
But more than that, he had forged another link in the chain of connections that would serve him in the years ahead. The respect of the Goblin Nation was a currency more valuable than gold, and considerably harder to obtain. Fighting alongside their warriors would cement that respect in a way no financial transaction ever could.
By the time he emerged into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley, his mind was already turning to the next step in his preparations. The battle ahead would demand every skill he possessed, and perhaps a few he had yet to master.
Ambrosia Manor emerged from the afternoon mist as Chris approached the wrought-iron gates, its ancient stones glowing warm in the summer sunlight. The protective wards shimmered briefly as they recognized his magical signature, the gates swinging open silently to admit the manor's young lord. Unlike Hogwarts with its constant bustle of students and staff, or Gringotts with its formal intensity, Ambrosia Manor offered something Chris had come to value above all else, absolute privacy in which to pursue his true agenda.
The gravel path crunched satisfyingly beneath his feet as he walked the long drive toward the main entrance. On either side, magical topiaries shifted subtly in acknowledgment as he passed, centuries-old enchantments responding to the presence of Ambrosia blood. The manor itself rose before him, neither as vast as Hogwarts nor as ostentatious as some pureblood estates, but imposing in its elegant solidity, fifteen centuries of magical history embodied in weathered stone and gleaming windows.
The massive oak door swung open before he reached it, and Jilly stood in the entrance hall, her amber eyes bright with welcome.
"Master has returned," she said, her formal tone unable to completely mask her genuine pleasure. "All is prepared as you requested."
"Thank you, Jilly," Chris replied, handing her his traveling cloak. "Has there been any correspondence in my absence?"
"Only the regular reports from your investments, Master. Jilly has placed them in your study." She hesitated, then added with slight concern, "Will Master be wanting lunch before beginning his... project?"
Chris smiled slightly at her careful phrasing. Jilly was too discreet to mention the specifics of what he'd asked her to prepare, but her concern for his wellbeing remained constant.
"A light meal would be welcome," he acknowledged. "I'll take it in the training room."
Jilly nodded and disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Chris to make his way through the manor's hushed corridors alone. Portraits of Ambrosia ancestors watched from ornate frames as he passed, some nodding in recognition, others merely observing with painted eyes that somehow managed to convey centuries of accumulated wisdom.
As he walked, Chris's mind turned to the task ahead. The acromantula colony presented a genuine challenge, even with goblin and centaur allies. Aragog's brood numbered in the hundreds, each spider a lethal opponent with venomous fangs, incredible strength, and the intelligence to coordinate attacks. Fighting alongside the goblin warriors would be dangerous, particularly for someone his age, regardless of his unusual circumstances and knowledge.
He needed every advantage he could create. Physical conditioning. Tactical planning. And most importantly, magical capability beyond what Hogwarts taught its students.
The training room occupied the entire east wing of the manor's lowest level. Unlike the somewhat gothic architecture of the main house, this space had been renovated many times over the centuries, each generation of Ambrosias updating it to reflect the latest understanding of magical practice. The current iteration, last modified by Merlin, featured walls of pale stone etched with protective runes, a floor of polished hardwood perfect for footwork and movement, and a ceiling enchanted to adjust the lighting to the practitioner's needs.
Most importantly, the entire room was encased in specialized wards that contained magical energy, preventing spells from damaging the rest of the manor and crucially, concealing the magical signatures from outside detection. Here, Chris could practice magic that would set off alarms at the Ministry if performed elsewhere.
A small table had appeared near one wall, bearing a simple meal of cold roast chicken, fresh bread, and fruit, alongside a pitcher of water. Chris ate methodically, his mind already several steps ahead, reviewing what he knew of Gryffindor's combat magic from his initial examination of the Grimoire.
The food gave him the energy he needed, but more importantly, the ritual of the meal helped focus his thoughts. By the time he finished, his mind had achieved the clear, centered state necessary for advanced magical study.
He moved to the center of the room, rolling his shoulders to release the last tension from his meeting with Ragnok. From around his neck, he carefully lifted the silver chain that held three miniaturized books, the Ambrosia family Grimoire, Ravenclaw's Grimoire with its spatial magic, and at the center, Gryffindor's battle magic text. Each represented power and knowledge beyond what most wizards would encounter in their lifetimes. Together, they formed a repository of magical understanding that had shaped, and would continue to shape, wizarding history.
Chris removed Gryffindor's Grimoire from the chain, holding the tiny book in his palm for a moment. Despite its reduced size, he could feel the magic pulsing within it, ancient and potent, waiting to be unleashed. He placed it carefully on the floor in the center of the room, stepped back, and drew his wand.
"Engorgio," he cast, but the word was more than a simple enlargement charm. He infused it with precise intent, directing the magic to restore the book to exactly its original proportions.
The Grimoire responded instantly, expanding from a tiny pendant to a massive tome nearly two feet tall and a foot and a half wide, its leather cover the color of rich burgundy, the golden lion on its front seeming to catch the light and reflect it with unnatural brilliance. The ruby eyes gleamed like fresh blood, alive with contained power.
Chris knelt beside the book, running his fingers reverently over its cover. This was Godric Gryffindor's legacy, the distillation of a lifetime spent mastering magical combat. Within these pages lay spells that could incinerate enemies, shields that could withstand the most devastating attacks, techniques for turning the environment itself into a weapon.
This was not the sanitized magic taught at Hogwarts, where stunning spells and disarming charms formed the core of defense training. This was magic meant for battlefield conditions, for life-or-death confrontations, for warriors rather than students.
Exactly what he needed to face a nest of acromantulas.
With careful deliberation, Chris opened the cover, the leather making a satisfying creak as it yielded to his touch. The parchment inside remained perfectly preserved, the ink as fresh as if it had dried only yesterday rather than a millennium ago. He turned past the introduction he had already read, past the philosophical discourse on courage and combat, to the sections detailing specific battle magic.
The first chapter on combat spells began with an illustration of a wizard surrounded by concentric rings of fire, each ring capable of being directed independently against multiple opponents. The accompanying text described the precise wand movement, the mental visualization required, and the Latin incantation that would bring this devastating attack to life.
Chris's expression settled into one of complete focus as he began to read, absorbing every detail, committing the instructions to memory. The text seemed to pulse with Gryffindor's presence, as if the founder himself were teaching these techniques across the centuries.
Summer stretched before him, weeks in which to master these ancient arts. By the time the goblins called him to battle, he would be ready, not just a student with theoretical knowledge, but a practitioner capable of standing alongside warriors.
The light in the training room shifted to a warmer glow as the enchanted ceiling recognised his intent to study for hours. Outside, the sun continued its journey across the summer sky, but in this timeless space, there was only the Grimoire, the magic, and Chris's unwavering determination to master both.