The Cupboard Series 4: The Fourth School

Chapter 32

The giant metal cube sat innocently not far from the building that housed the school's hovercraft. When compared to it, the new cube looked small, barely the size of a small room. Looks, though, as any magical person knew, could be deceiving. The outside may be small enough to walk around in less than half a minute, but the inside, that was anyone's guess.

Harry surveyed the new addition to the valley with a great deal of nervousness. The cube had been found on Potter Island, hidden beneath the ruins of the foundations of his grandparent's old manor. It'd obviously survived that night – the scorch marks that covered the top and the face attested to that. Clumps of reddish-brown dirt still clung to its surface in sharp contrast to the deep brown, almost blackish dirt of Potter Haven.

"So how do I open it?" he asked.

"It'll be blood locked," Sirius explained, not for the first time. "Put some of your blood on the crest and it'll determine that you are a Potter and open for you."

Harry nodded jerkily. No matter how many times he was forced to do something that involved cutting his hand – usually at Gringotts to sign some official papers – he'd never liked it and he suspected that he never would.

A soft hand slipped into his, its thumb rubbing gently over the back of his hand.

"We're here for you, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry looked at her and smiled.

"Well, let's do it, then," he said determinedly and strode up to the face of the cube.

Using his wand, he made a slashing motion, cutting open his palm. Blood welled up in his palm and he grimaced. Staring up at the gigantic Potter crest, Harry reached forward and smeared his bloody hand on the tree in its centre.

For the longest time, nothing happened. And then, an almost anticlimactic click could be heard before the door opened the barest fraction.

"Well, that's done," Sirius commented before grabbing up Harry's bleeding hand.

A soft warmth accompanied the tip of Sirius' wand as it traced across the slash that Harry'd made until the cut was completely healed, leaving behind only a bloody palm. A quick scourgify took care of that as well.

"I'm not going to have to do that every time that I want to open this thing, am I?" Harry asked.

"Nah, well, at least, you won't need that much blood," Sirius replied. "A simple pinprick will be enough from now on. The first time the door needed enough blood to determine that you were a Potter and that you were doing it of your own free will."

"The door could determine that as well?" Hermione asked. "How?

Sirius simply shrugged at her. "Magic."

Hermione's scowl had Harry chuckling for the first time since the cube had arrived earlier that morning.

He was nervous about what he'd find inside – nervous and excited. He had so very little from his parents, well, very little that was personal and meant something, vaults of gold and ancient heirlooms didn't mean as much. Inside this thing could be something that his grandparents had treasured.

Grasping the edge of the door, Harry heaved it open.

At first, the interior was hidden in darkness, but then, as he took his first step over the threshold, a dozen torches flared into life.

The first thing that Harry noted was that he'd been right. While the outside of the vault might look as big as a small room, the inside was easily three or four times that size. The second thing that he noticed was that it was a complete mess. Boxes and chests were lying haphazardly; gigantic vases were grouped together, with a second layer piled on top of a lower layer in some bizarre type of pyramid; a stack of picture frames were leant against one wall and there looked to be miniaturised furniture of all sorts dotted everywhere.