Two boys, two problems, and one solution… if they can ever get over their mutual animosity, that is. DMHP, Slash, Dumbledore bashing and a lovely fluffy ending. It's all good stuff.
Several warnings, but nothing unusual. Slash, swearing, Snape lovin' (non-graphic, don't panic!) and kinda forced-marriage. But not really? Just read it.
'Til Death Do Us Part
Part I - Harry's Problem
Harry's summer had, so far, been fairly mundane. He'd had more than enough time to come to terms with his godfather's death and decided that, although he had loved the man dearly, he should celebrate what little time they'd shared, not mourn it. He had also decided that the Dursleys, under any condition, should not be told that Sirius Black was dead. The thought of a murdering godfather, along with the Order's 'friendly' warnings to them, had convinced the family to leave him alone.
Dudley had even become vaguely normal around him, much to Harry's bemusement.
With only one regular correspondence now (Hermione) and the Dursleys keeping clear of him, Harry actually found himself at a bit of a loose end. He'd finished all of his school work fairly promptly and reread a lot of the texts in the hope of finding something that might inspire him. Nothing, yet, had sprung up.
Mornings saw Harry jogging around the block and sipping strong black coffee sitting on the wall opposite the café. Sometimes he'd go into the local library, but the reputation the Dursleys had given him, made all of the locals wary of him, so he never stayed there long. Likewise, Harry couldn't get a job. What would he put on a resume anyway? 'Despite having a madman trying to kill me, I've managed to get respectable marks in all of my subjects, doing particularly well in Defence Against the Dark Arts. I also happen to speak fluently to snakes.' Hah! He'd considered giving that to one of the shopkeepers just to see their face.
In the afternoon Harry would generally continue his work in the back garden. Although the Dursleys no longer forced him to do the chores, Harry still felt a certain tranquillity in the normal, everyday tasks such as gardening and cooking. Aunt Petunia certainly voiced no complaint when Harry requested that he make dinner for them sometimes. In the garden he had also made friends with a couple of the little snakes that lived there. Mostly they snubbed him, thinking themselves much above some servant boy who kept the gardens, but they were polite enough.
It was midway through August before Harry wondered if he could order magical books via a catalogue and had been pleasantly surprised when, after sending Hedwig out with a note of enquiry to Flourish and Blotts, she'd returned with a shiny fat magazine. Ms Flourish had expressed her surprise at his request, as apparently most people preferred to owl order the majority of their things. Just another thing to add to Harry's ever growing list of Things About the Wizarding World No One Bothered To Tell Me.
However, his irritation was largely laid to rest when he remembered that he could now order any book that he liked. The catalogue looked to be a good inch thick and full to bursting with every type of book imaginable. Flipping through, Harry soon realised that, unfortunately, this was completely true. Unfortunately because the books were alphabetised, not ordered in subject.
It had taken a while to sift through all of the utterly pointless (How to Make Long Term Enemies), the frivolous (The Mysterious Art of Magically Painting Your Nails), and downright stupid (Using a Muggle Telly-Pigeon) but eventually Harry had a long list of about forty books that interested him. Happy with the knowledge that he had enough in his account to cover a few extra books he'd picked out the 'best' ten and ordered them.
And, thus, Harry's daily routine changed. He still went jogging and did a bit of the gardening, but he now spent a lot of his time reading the books he'd sent for. Two of them proved not to be worth the money he'd spent on them, but the rest held some interesting ideas. Only one of the ten was really inspiring, and it was one that Harry had not initially felt certain of. It's title was certainly nothing spectacular; Seeing Things. The only reason he'd bought it was that the review provided in the catalogue mentioned that it was a guide to Occlumency, not Divination.
With the book's help, Harry found it easier to sort through his thoughts and memories and felt pretty certain that if Snape were to shout "Clear your mind!" again and delve into his thoughts he'd hold out a little longer than he had before. Hermione had also helped in her latest letter, saying that there were some Muggle methods that might help him to Occlude his mind.
But, books aside, Harry found himself awaiting his birthday with eager anticipation. He was not the type of person who'd read books if there was something else more exciting or profitable to do and a birthday was certainly a more exciting thing! After all, it wasn't everyday that he turned sixteen. He was hoping that, among the usual presents, the Weasleys might find it in their hearts to pick him up and let him stay for the rest of the holiday.
Midnight took a long time coming, but when it did Harry's grin was blinding and he opened the window wide for the owls to arrive. Hedwig was the first to enter. She'd disappeared some hours before and he welcomed her back with a bit of bacon left over from his dinner. She dropped the package in his lap, nipped his ear and flew to her cage. The other birds followed soon after and were fairly easy to recognise. There was a Hogwarts owl, the Weasleys' owl and a familiar tawny that Hermione had been using for her posts. Harry greeted each of them with a treat and a stroke, moving his coat of the back of his chair so there was room for them all to rest.
The presents were as they usually were; a book from Hermione, along with a long letter in response to his previous one, attached to a birthday card. Ron had sent a box of Bertie Bott's and five chocolate frogs, along with a birthday card and a short, friendly note that was the extent of his and Harry's summer correspondence. From Mrs Weasley, Harry received a homemade cake with an elaborately iced top and another birthday card, signed by all the Weasleys except Ron and Ginny. Ginny had also sent a separate card, and a pair of finely tailored gloves that she'd been working on for him since he'd given her access to the Basilisk skin. Hagrid had sent his usual package of inedible sweets and Remus had written a long note, apologising for his silence over the holidays, and a ten sickle token to Zonko's.
Harry chuckled when he found the token. Remus Lupin almost deserved the title of Slytherin, Harry had learnt the previous year. Mild mannered and easy to forgive, Remus had always seemed like he hadn't fitted in with the Marauders. A pity case, almost. Friends with James and Sirius simply because he shared a dorm room. However, in the two years since he had sopped teaching Harry, the werewolf had shown, in his frequent - if sporadic - letters that appearances weren't everything. Remus had a wicked sense of humour, a sharp mind and no qualms about pranking anyone, although he had admitted easily to Harry that he had always felt uncomfortable with the extent to which his friends took it, particularly in concern to Snape.
Harry propped up his cards in a neat row along the back of his desk, refilled Hedwig's water bowl and quickly tried on Ginny's gloves. Setting the majority of his presents to one side, Harry swallowed down two of the chocolate frogs and opened the packet of Every Flavour Beans before settling down to read the notes his friends had sent.
At about two o'clock, after he'd sent replies and thank yous to all of his friends, as well as posting his own card to Neville, Harry fell asleep.
Four hours later, long before he'd intended on waking, Harry was roused by an known, official looking bird tapping irritably at the window. Upon spotting it, Harry woke completely and frowned. He'd not done any magic - purposely or accidentally - and he couldn't think of anything else that the ministry was likely to send a letter to him about.
Certain that he must have done something wrong, but clueless as t what it might be, Harry opened the window and allowed the owl in, untying the letter and offering Hedwig's stand. The bird huffed at him snobbishly and took off, slapping Harry in the face with one wing as it flew from the room. Maybe not a Ministry bird, then, Harry supposed. He doubted that the Ministry could afford to spoil their owls enough that they gained such an attitude.
Turning the letter over in his hand, Harry recognised the seal on the back to be that of Gringotts and wondered what had happened - then a horrific thought struck him. He'd assumed that the huge pile of gold in his vault would be enough to last him seven years, but what if he'd been wrong? Hogwarts was a very expensive school and the book and uniform requirements each year were no mean thing. What if his latest book purchases had used up the last of his money? What if he was in debt? What if he couldn't afford to go back to school? The summer had been boring enough on its own!
Determined to get it over and done with, Harry slid his finger under the seal and ripped it open. Squeezing his eyes tight shut so he couldn't see the page he took a deep, fortifying breath and then opened his eyes to read.
Dear Mr H J Potter
We are pleased to inform you that, upon reaching your sixteenth birthday, legal ownership
of your other Gringotts vaults has been transferred to you. You may chose to return
ownership to your guardian until a later date if you deem it prudent. It is recommended that
you book an appointment at your local branch promptly for a more detailed assessment.
Please find enclosed a copy of your guardian's monetary transactions in your name. It is
assumed that all withdrawals from your temporary vault are your own.
Yours Sincerely,
J. I. Opinging
Chief Advisor of Gringotts (London Branch)
Harry gawked. Vaults? What vaults? What guardian? What monetary transactions? Surely his guardians must be the Dursleys, but if that were the case then they'd never complain about his cost of living and they'd certainly not still live at Number Four, Privet Drive. As they did and they were, then his guardian must be someone else, and if it was someone else, then who? Perhaps it was Sirius? That thought was quickly squashed though, if it had been Sirius, surely his godfather would have mentioned it? Or at the very least, he should have received a note from Gringotts upon his death telling him what was happening. Perhaps the 'monetary transactions' sheet would tell him more or give him a clue.
Amount: Reason: Date:
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/81
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/82
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/83
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/84
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/85
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/86
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/87
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/88
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/89
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/90
500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/91
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/91
500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/92
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/92
500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/93
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/93
500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/94
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/94
1500 Galleons Unknown 25/06/95
500 Galleons Hogwarts fee 01/09/95
100 Galleons Unknown. Transferred to Muggle money 31/10/95
2000 Galleons Donation to the Ministry post-Voldemort redecoration 17/06/96
Total amount withdrawn: 7500 Galleons
Harry sat blinking at the page for a long time before what he was seeing sank in. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it seemed fairly clear that whoever this mysterious 'guardian' of his was, they were paying his relatives to look after him. The first withdrawal was made the day of his parents' deaths, the day that he was left on the Dursleys' front doorstep. The only rational conclusion was that with him had been his own money as a pay off. A yearly pay off.
The dates of the Hogwarts fees were normal enough and, though Harry didn't know it was quite that expensive to attend Hogwarts, it didn't surprise him. The donation to the ministry Harry also wouldn't have objected to, if it hadn't been quite so much. Whoever his 'guardian' was, they seemed very eager to spend his money to stay on the good side of the Ministry. The only other unknown withdrawal confused Harry. Whilst his 'guardian' seemed quite happy to pay off his relatives and the ministry, they hadn't taken any money for their own, per se. The fact that they had, and so much, was strange.
Wracking his brains, the only corresponding fact to that date Harry could come up with was that it was about the same sort of time as the Third Task and Voldemort's return. Although, why this would prompt his unknown 'guardian' to take that much money out of his account Harry had no idea. But the Goblins would surely know who they were and Harry had a good mind to shout at whoever they were. Using his money to pay his relatives. Not taking Harry in to look after themselves. For, if they were legally allowed to control his vaults, they should be legally allowed to look after him, too.
Harry glanced out the window, down at the street below. The Order had said that they'd be keeping a discrete eye out for him over the holidays and, so far, he had only caught a quick glance of bright pink hair or such like out of the corner of his eyes. He wondered what it would take for them to assert their presence. He knew that if he wanted to go to Diagon Alley he should probably tell them, although it would take very little effort to give them the slip if he really wanted to. Debating with himself for a moment, Harry glanced at Mrs Weasley's cake.
Creeping quietly downstairs he retrieved two forks, two plates and a knife and took them back up to his room. With care he cut two large pieces, his mouth watering as the rich, thick chocolate oozed from the middle, it's delicious scent wafting up.
Then, leaving the rest of the cake and the knife in his room, he picked up the two plates and went down the hall, knocking quietly on Dudley's door and praying that his bribe would work. After all, his diet had been driving Dudley crazy and he was only asking what Dudley would probably quite happily do all on his own, if he didn't know that Harry was being guarded.
There was a groan from inside, a thump and a muttered curse before the door swung open to reveal a bleary eyed Dudley with a ferocious snarl on his lips.
"What?" the larger boy snapped.
Harry offered up one of the plates. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked, praying that chocolate cake would appease the blonde boy.
Dudley snatched the cake from Harry's hand and sniffed it suspiciously. "It's not poisoned, is it?" he asked bluntly.
"Of course not. It's birthday cake. Why would my friends send me poisoned birthday cake?" Harry shot back, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe.
Cautiously the other boy sniffed it again, scooped up some of the icing with a podgy finger and tasted it. Dudley's eyes closed and his mouth curled up in simple, unadulterated appreciation. Then, as if only just realising who was standing before him, Dudley's eyes snapped open, he stepped back and nervously waved Harry into his room.
The inside of his cousin's bedroom was nothing like Harry expected it to be. All of Dudley's expensive, pointless toys were carefully packed up in boxes along the top of his wardrobe, there were shelves of books and magazines and the compact laptop sitting closed on his desk was attached to a larger, well used key board. The only thing that was reminiscent of the Dudley Harry thought he knew was the expensive iPod docking station and posters over his bed and on the wardrobe, that showed various drunken rockstars.
"Uh… yeah…" Dudley trailed off and moved past Harry to slump on his bed, eyeing his slice of cake enviously but knowing that Harry would want an explanation. "I want to go into Law Enforcement, but apparently you need half way decent grades and, well, Emma said that I needed to be getting better than a couple of 'C's if I wanted her to go out with me."
Harry let out a low whistle of appreciation. "She must be something if she's managed to kick you into shape."
"Yeah," was all Dudley said, pointing to one of the many pictures that were tacked up in a collage of faces on the pin board by his desk. He dug into his slice of cake as Harry admired the pretty little waif of a girl that seemed to have Dudley so enamoured. There were a number of pictures of her, with a group of her friends, studying in the library, on her own, and one of her and Dudley standing together with his arm around her, both grinning wildly.
"That was our first date - the day I got my first 'A'," Dudley elaborated, seeing where Harry's attention was aimed.
"Good for you," Harry said, doing his utmost not to sound too shocked. The pretty little girl and his whale of a cousin certainly made an odd-looking couple, but if it worked for them, who was he to judge?
Dudley finished wolfing down his cake and set the fork and plate to one side, turning his full attention to Harry. "So what's the deal?" he asked finally. " What do you need?"
The other boy swallowed his mouthful and answered simply, "I want you to beat me up."
"What?!" Dudley choked out, looking as though his cake was about to make a re-entry. "Why?"
"Because I need to grab the attention of my guards and I figured you'd be willing."
Dudley looked away from Harry awkwardly, fidgeting with his fingers as he watched them with what appeared to be extreme fascination. Eventually, quietly - "I owe you my life, man. So, no. No, I'm not willing."
Harry slumped, a pang of disappointment stinging him and he wondered what he could do to entice Dudley to pick a fight with him. The fact that he was… grateful? for being saved was odd. Harry couldn't really remember being thanked for saving someone before. Sirius had told him he was like his Dad, Ginny that she hadn't meant to do it, Cedric's Dad had just yelled at him… Harry shrugged, awkward as he was disappointed.
"Couldn't you just, I dunno, walk out there and start talking to them? Why do you need to talk to them anyway?"
"I don't know who's on duty or where exactly they are," Harry explained. "I need to go into the magical part of London."
Dudley considered the problem seriously for a moment, before asking him, "Why do you need their permission to go there?"
"I -" Harry started, and stopped just as abruptly. "I don't know."
Dudley grinned. "I can give you a fiver for the bus fares and a coke or something while you're there. You should just head off once you've had breakfast."
Harry stood, grinning. Slapping Dudley on the shoulder in thanks, he declined the offer of money and left with the two plates. He wasn't quite sure what'd happened to Dudley - it was surreal in more than a few ways, but he wasn't about to start complaining. Sending a quick prayer to whatever deities might be listening, Harry quickly washed up the plates, grabbed what he needed for the day and heading out.
It was a short walk to the bus stop and the buses into London were fairly frequent, so it only took Harry about half an hour to be standing outside The Leaky Cauldron. He hesitated a moment, wondering how much of a lecture he was likely to receive from Dumbledore for leaving his home, but soon decided he didn't care. His only hope was that Tonks wasn't the one who'd been watching him. He liked her and didn't want her to get the blame for letting him wander off.
With a cheerful 'hello' to Tom, Harry made his way rapidly through the pub and out into Diagon Alley beyond. He paused for a moment, looking at the shops around him and was struck with an urge to spend a large amount of money on things he might not need. But, first things first, he needed to go to Gringotts.
The building was just as imposing as it always had been, and the Goblins just as ugly. Walking up to an empty spot at the long desk behind which were seated all of the Goblins, Harry introduced himself to the one sat there.
For a moment the Goblin stared at him with derision, then unfolding his long, skeletal fingers, he stood from his seat, walked around the desk and beckoned Harry to follow. They exited by a door looking much the same as any of the other doors, but instead of leading to the carts to take them down to the vaults it lead into another lobby which looked much like a waiting room.
The Goblin left Harry alone in the room, not saying anything and just walking out the way he had come. With nothing else to do, Harry sunk down into one of the particularly uncomfortable seats and dozed a little, catching up on some of the sleep he'd missed.
Harry wasn't aware how long he'd been left in the Waiting Room, but he was woken by a clearly displeased coughing noise. Pushing his glasses up his nose he blinked blearily at the Goblin before him. She - or at least, Harry though it was a she - was sending him a scowl that would make even Snape proud.
"Mr Potter?" she snapped.
"Yes?"
"Well are you or aren't you?" she shot back, clearly not used to being kept waiting.
Harry scowled back at her. "I am, why do you want to know?"
She looked at him like she would very much like to slit his belly and hurl him from his neck by a piece of rope out of the nearest window. "I am Opinging, Chief Monetary Advisor of Gringotts as well as your personal advisor."
"Why would you want to advise me?" Harry blurted out before he could consider the question and earning himself another glare.
"Because you are one of our richest and most prestigious clients, Mr Potter. And we fear that your Guardian has been abusing your money." She paused and eyed him for the first time without maliciousness, but still calculatingly. "Follow me." Then she turned and stalked from the room, leaving Harry to only follow rapidly behind.
He was led through a multitude of small, winding corridors that twisted and turned until the only confident decision Harry could make as to his whereabouts was that it was now above ground level. Finally they reached what appeared to be Opinging's office, as she gestured him to take the seat opposite a large, official looking desk that she sat behind.
"Who is my Guardian?" Harry asked as soon as he regained his breath.
The Goblin considered him a moment, as though he might be joking. "Dumbledore, of course," she replied after finally deciding to take him seriously.
Harry gaped. Then, after a moment of what he was sure was amused silence from Opinging's end, he gathered enough wits to ask, "If he's my Guardian, how come I've been living with my Muggle relatives?"
Opinging sighed and rolled her eyes. "I am a monetary advisor, Mr Potter, not a life advisor. While I'll concede that your living situation is odd, it's not unheard of. I'm more worried about the transactions that have taken place over the last fifteen years. Of the 22 withdrawals made from your family vaults, 16 of them were for unknown reasons. This is an alarmingly high percentage."
"Do you have no way of telling where that money went?" Harry asked. "I mean, I've kinda fingered where most of it went, but there was one that-"
"Mr Potter!" Opinging interrupted, "'Unknown' means that it is not known, that we do not have knowledge of it! We gave you as much information as we have available to us."
Harry bit back the insults that threatened to bubble forth. Dumbledore! Dumbledore had been the one screwing him over! He could still remember the first time he'd heard of Dumbledore, that he'd seen him. If Harry had learnt, then, that Dumbledore was his Guardian, he would have been over the moon. It would have meant, to him, away from the Dursleys. It would have meant Christmas and Birthday presents. It would have meant, essentially, a Grandfather.
Now, however… Harry's nails bit into the palms of his hands as his fists clenched. The bloody bastard had said that there was no other option! That the Dursleys were his Guardians! That he wasn't allowed to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays! And he'd been paying them to keep him away from Hogwarts. Was Harry really that much trouble? Was he really not worth putting up with unless they were paid to do so?
"I'm afraid that none of these withdrawals are redeemable," Opinging continued on, when Harry nodded at her that he was in a calmer state of mind. "However, we can withdraw from your Guardian's account what was taken from yours."
Harry paused a moment, considering. "The Hogwarts fees are correct?"
Opinging hesitated a moment, looking uncertain for the first time. "They would be."
There was a long pause in which Harry waited impatiently for the Goblin to continue, but nothing more was said.
Finally, she carried on. "The payments for your Hogwarts fee were settled by your parents a day or two after you were born. The payments would have been cancelled had you died, but as you are famous for not doing so, the payment for your total Hogwarts education was made as soon as you accepted your first year invitation."
"That bloody rat bastard!" Harry screamed, standing suddenly from his chair and pacing from one end of the room to the other. "He's paying off my relatives, he's spending all my money, he's pretending to protect me while I fight Volde-fucking-mort alone. What the hell else is he hiding?"
Opinging watched him with narrow-eyed consideration. Finally, after several minutes of him muttering to himself, she spoke up again. "There is one last bomb to drop, if you'll excuse the Muggle expression."
Harry glanced up at her, waving a hand as an indication to continue, but still pacing swiftly back and forth, mind turning.
"Dumbledore applied to the Wizengamot last month to continue as your Guardian until the fall of Voldemort, given that you remain Harry Potter. His reasoning was that you would need someone you trusted, someone responsible, taking care of your accounts so you didn't have to deal with that added pressure. He also sited your Muggle childhood and lack of knowledge of the wizarding world as another reason. His application was agreed to and signed last night."
This time Harry did not swear, and jump about. His pace quickened slightly and the already heavy frown on his face deepened. "Can I not just change my name?" he asked after a moment longer.
"Without control of your account, you would not be able to change the name on you vaults and, thus, you would lose all of your money. It would go to Dumbledore by default."
"How about adoption?" Harry asked, desperation now clear in his voice.
"Unless a wizard or witch is orphaned without an official Guardian, you need that Guardian's signature."
Harry laughed hysterically and collapsed down into his seat. "You better have some damn good advice Ms Opinging, because the only other way I can think of changing a name is through marriage, and I'm a bloke."
"Perhaps Dumbledore was right in saying you are naïve to the ways of the wizarding world," the Goblin mused.
"Spit it out," Harry snapped. He was two pissed off to think of courtesy.
Opinging smiled a little. Any Goblin's smile was not nice, but this one was particularly nasty. "Because of the number of same-sex marriages, it is the name of the most affluent house that is taken, not the bridegroom's."
Harry leant forward and let his head drop to the table with a load 'thunk'. "I should never have said anything," he muttered.
"I'm afraid there is a little bit of a problem with this, though," Opinging continued. This time Harry didn't even to respond of show in anyway that he was still listening. "Unfortunately the Potters were one of the richest families in Wizarding Britain, as such the number of single witches and wizards who are richer than you is very limited."
"How many?"
"Well, discounting those betrothed, engaged or under the age of fifteen… three."
Harry very, very slowly raised his head and asked another question that, in all honesty, he didn't want to know the answer to. "Who?"
"Representing the House of Prince, Severus Snape, aged 36. Representing the House of Fudge, Jacqueline Fudge, aged 89. And, lastly, representing the House of Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, aged 16."
Harry looked at Opinging for a long, tense moment. This time it was he that looked at her calculatingly, to see if she were joking around or not. Finally, he decided that he had to face the facts. The cosmos seemed to treat his life like one, never ending joke. Thus, Opinging must be utterly serious.
"Well fuck."