The carved door admitted him without resistance. Inside, the chamber shifted. Stone figures at the dais stirred as if a long-laid charm had been touched.
Not ghosts, not portraits—something older. Echoes set into the foundation itself: the likenesses of Merlin and Morgana, bound by oath and blood into the stone. Their features sharpened, and their voices filled the cave as though it had been built for them.
"Emrys," said the man, voice quiet but steady as the tide.
"Le Fay," answered the woman, wry satisfaction in her tone.
They did not preach but spoke like confessions carried on old wards: Merlin of law that had hardened into chains, Morgana of freedom that had soured into hunger. Neither excused themselves—both only warned.
"Do not narrow the world with names like 'dark'," Merlin said. "It blinds more than it shields."
"Do not mistake indulgence for liberty," Morgana countered. "It devours more than it frees."
Their words crossed like two rivers, not to bind him but to leave the choice clear.
Void listened and said only, "Your paths are yours. I will make mine. No leash, no chain. My will is my own."
For a breath the chamber was silent. Then Morgana laughed—a bright, cutting sound. "He takes after me."
Merlin sighed, relief in the sound. "Then let him succeed where we failed."
Light rose from their stone forms, folding into him without pain. Recognition sealed: Heir acknowledged. Steward recognized. Not as command, but as consent. The echoes dissolved, leaving only the cave and its quiet water.
The Crest and the Ring
The signet on his hand kindled. Silver brightened, lines carving themselves clean. A crest appeared, alive with magic rather than wrought by smith:
At its heart, a rowan tree, roots deep, branches laden—protection, resilience.
Coiled in the roots, a serpent forming a triskelion—hidden strength, renewal.
An owl perched right-hand, calm and watchful.
A raven left-hand, wings half-lifted, daring change.
Around them the triskelion flowed whole, a warding seal in motion.
Behind, faint stars and a crescent moon shimmered, visible only when light struck.
The manor's wards stirred, accepting the crest as key and sign. Not burden, but chosen authority.
When Red saw it, his eyes narrowed. "Old work," he murmured. "Rowan, serpent, owl, raven… bound in a wheel. A seal of Avalon, some would say. They'd be half right—and half dangerous."
The House Bound
Void pressed the signet to the foundation stone. Wards spread, reshaping:
The Rowan Chamber — for welcome.
The Hold — for foes.
The Antechamber — for those between.
Protections aligned with the crest's balance: order without tyranny, freedom without ruin. Hospitality, justice, prudence.
The manor accepted him not as a master chained to duty, but as heir whose choice mattered.
Taking Stock
The study greeted them with oak paneling and a long table worn by ink and wand-marks. When Void set his signet on the blotter, the crest brightened. A clean parchment slid forward from a drawer long still.
Gold-hued script wrote itself in a neat, old-fashioned hand. Not a voice, but the house tallying what it remembered.
Holdings Within the Manor
Libraries — Three principal rooms, shelves sealed against decay. ~27,000 volumes catalogued: spellwork, ritual craft, curse-breaking, ward theory, druidic charms, and runes. A Restricted Case opens only to the heir's signet.
Laboratories — Two cellars, one climate-warded. Glassware, copper stills, preserved base draughts, and sealed stores of rare reagents. Complete and stable.
Armoury & Artefacts — Seven cases, eight trunks. Protective textiles, two heirloom blades, reliquaries, and minor artefacts. Inert unless signet-present.
Vault Cellars — Coin and bullion reserves: Galleons, trade bars, and gemstones. Less vulnerable to Ministry scrutiny than goblin vaults, more vulnerable to siege—hence the wards.
Greenworks — Glasshouses with rowan grafts, aconite, dittany, and silverleaf. Orchard and warded bee skeps active. A seed vault indexed.
External Holdings
Safeholds — Three sites marked dormant, awaiting the heir's claim.
Gringotts Accounts — About one-fifth of the House's wealth rests under goblin glass in layered trusts. Records: Emrys instruments held in blind trust, accessible only by heir and signet. Older than current Ministry law.
Stipends & Trusts — Household stipends active. One external trust—Wilton family—funded and masked, continuing by the last lord's design.
Red rested his cane against the desk."Most Houses learned the hard way that goblin vaults attract storms. The Emrys–Le Fay tradition kept its wealth in two places: stone they owned, and stone goblins guard. Seventy to eighty percent lies here. The rest sits at Gringotts, dormant until you wake it."
Void's eyes flicked to the crest. "And if I woke it?"
"Law would obey," Red said. "The goblins would recognize you without hesitation. But movement in those vaults stirs notice. Auditors mark it, curse-breakers whisper, Unspeakables grow restless. And Dumbledore—he has a way of turning whispers into certainties."
"Then it sleeps," Void said simply. "The manor bears the weight."
Red inclined his head. "The wiser course. A House that spends from its own hearth dances to no one's tune."
Potter Holdings
The parchment thickened, script layering itself anew. The Potter crest shimmered faintly beside the lines.
Main Line (James Potter)
Godric's Hollow — Destroyed in 1981, still legally recognized as ancestral seat.
Vault 687 — School trust, Harry James Potter sole heir, minor.
Gringotts Instruments — Layered family accounts, centuries old. Dormant until Harry reaches majority.
Branch Line (Void's Father)
Created by adoption of Void Potter (senior) by Dorea Potter, legitimized by Wizengamot record.
Properties — A manor in Devon (dormant, wards weakened). Two smaller safehold cottages bound by bloodline wards.
Gringotts Accounts — One deep vault, sealed to the line of Void Potter. Untouched since his death. Blind trust instruments, heir and signet required.
Trust Lines — Stipends originally directed to the branch, suspended after Void was presumed lost. Marked Sleeping. Resume automatically on heir's recognition.
Red tapped the parchment."The Potters are unusual. Few estates, preferring coin and trust. James's line held the seat. Your father, by Dorea's will, was given a branch—meant to stand or fall on its own. Goblins bound it accordingly."
Void's gaze stayed on the script. "Harry keeps James's line. I keep my father's."
"Exactly. Separate but lawful. Claiming your branch won't disturb Harry's inheritance. But it will wake ledgers that have slept since your father's day."
"Meaning whispers. Dumbledore," Void said.
"Meaning attention," Red corrected. "Best choose when to open that door. Until then, the manor is enough."
The Second Ring
As the parchment sealed its tally, a second glow stirred in the desk's drawer. Metal shifted against wood with the sound of a lock giving way after long silence.
A ring lay inside: silver wrought into a crest unmistakably Potter—a rearing stag beneath a scattering of stars, edges circled by a fine ward-line. Yet something marked it as different from the main line's seal:
At its center, where the Potters' crest was usually plain, a faint triskelion gleamed, delicate but undeniable.
The three spirals were not foreign additions, but woven into the stag's base, as though the old Potter magic had acknowledged the Emrys blood that entered when Dorea adopted Void's father.
The stag seemed poised not just to charge, but to turn—an emblem of movement and adaptation as much as guardianship.
The house recognized it instantly: Potter branch acknowledged. Signet restored.
Void set the new ring beside the Emrys–Le Fay crest. They resonated faintly with one another—neither dominant, neither diminished, each marking a different inheritance.
Red regarded it carefully. "The main Potter line holds to the stag, stars, and vaults. But your father's branch was set apart—old Dorea saw to that. The triskelion woven into the crest is no accident. It marks the divergence. To the goblins, it's proof the branch is lawful but not the same as James's seat."
Void turned the Potter signet between his fingers. "So Harry holds the stag. I hold the stag that turns."
"Precisely," Red said. "Two Potters, two lines. The Ministry will see one family. Gringotts will see two. And Dumbledore…" He let the thought trail, his mouth tight.
The ring settled on Void's left hand, the Emrys–Le Fay crest on his right. Two inheritances, distinct yet aligned, waiting for his word to wake them fully.