A/N: This was originally written for the Potter's Affairs challenge at SIYE. The brief was essentially to write a story involving Harry getting his act together after leaving Hogwarts: organising his inheritance, deciding on a career/home, sorting out his relationship with Ginny and accepting his "Spoils of War".

What they received probably wasn't what they intended...

PROLOGUE

'Do yeh know what this is about then, 'Arry?' said Hagrid as they stood in line in Gringotts, glad to be out of the hot sun outside.

Harry shook his head. 'Just got a letter telling me I had an appointment this afternoon - at least it came this morning instead of in the middle of my surprise birthday party tomorrow. Thank you, by the way.'

'It's no bother, 'Arry. Gives me something teh do. And it's sorta fun intimidating people.'

Harry nodded and tried to keep ignoring the little looks people sent him. At least Hagrid's looming presence had stopped the whispers about the "Chosen One" sharpish. 'Can we pop into the Ministry when we're finished? I've wanted to an Auror for years, but... well, the time has come and I'm thinking of other things.' Like how to discretely get his hands on a beginners' reading-list for how to detect and defeat magical traps. 'I've had enough trouble to last me for a lifetime so I don't need to borrow someone else's.'

Hagrid nodded. Harry had no intention of returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year; certainly not until after Voldemort was destroyed — if at all, but it was worth pretending to try and allay what little of Mrs Weasley's suspicions they could.

'My name's Harry Potter,' said Harry when they reached the receptionist. 'I've an appointment for three o'clock.'

The goblin clicked his fingers — or at least Harry assumed it was a he; having never seen a goblin that seemed female — and another goblin wandered over.

The second goblin paused for a moment, looking at him. 'Follow me.'

The goblin led them out of the lobby and up a richly carpeted staircase, stopping before an intricately carved wooden door. 'You will need to wait out here,' he said to Hagrid, pointing at the chairs set out around the landing.

The goblin opened the door and ushered Harry inside.

At a desk that dwarfed the occupier sat the inevitable wizened old goblin wearing a monocle. On the dark panelled wall behind the goblin hung a pickaxe and a hammer. 'Sit down Mr Potter.'

Harry sat down in the leather chair opposite the desk, the other goblin following him inside.

'Mr Potter, I am...' the old goblin looked at the first one, who was still lingering at the door. 'Is there something you need to say?'

The goblin stared at Harry, then sadly shook his head.

'Then leave, Griphook.' The goblin trudged out and shut the door. 'Mr Potter, we at Gringotts apologise for Griphook's bizarre behaviour. Rest assured that it will not happen again. My name is Turvok, and I oversee your accounts. Now that you are of age you gain direct control over your assets and your guardian's access is terminated.'

'Guardian?'

'Albus Dumbledore.'

'What? Why?'

Turvok shrugged. 'It is standard procedure for all muggle-born wizards to have a magical guardian to deal with the legal requirements of the wizarding world if they rear their head. Mostly that involves advising the muggle-born's parents and possibly signing various documents where needed. With your upbringing it was deemed necessary by the courts even if you were not, technically, muggle-born. Caused a great deal of beard wringing in the Wizengamot — no small issue given the size of them.'

'What has he done with his access?' And why hadn't he told him?

'He has set up a debit agreement with Hogwarts as is normal for your tuition. He also authorised the sale of your parents' house.'

'He sold my parents' house!'

Harry wasn't aware of standing up, but he was, blood thundering in his ears.

'Perhaps some context would be beneficial,' said Turvok, in tones that translated quite easily to sit down and stop making a fool of yourself. 'In November nineteen-eighty-one, the Ministry introduced legislation authorising them to issue a compulsory-sale order for your parents' house in Godric's Hollow to create a memorial. Albus Dumbledore arranged a clause in the legislation that prevented them from issuing the order unless the owner was not prepared to sell or demanded an excessive amount amounting to ten percent over the purchase price or...' Turvok looked at him for a moment. 'The Ministry would have acquired — taken — the prop — house. Thanks to Albus Dumbledore you are twenty thousand galleons richer than you would have been.'

Harry could feel his ears go red. 'Oh.'

'He also authorised us to make several minor but virtually risk free investments, increasing the Potter family fortune by a modest sum. The Potter vaults hold a few heirlooms of significant value and three hundred thousand galleons. We would recommend renewing the present contract with your current Gringotts's financial manager. He's dealt with the Potter accounts for the last half-century, and is rather keen to get your money working for you again, rather than stagnating as it has been under Albus Dumbledore. Do you have any questions?'

'Heirlooms?'

'I'm not sure what they are, but I can find out for you.' Turvok made a note on a piece of parchment. He smiled. 'Moving on to the Black family... one of our oldest clients. You have a vault containing slightly over two million galleons, heirlooms to the value of approximately five million galleons and two singing house elf heads in bell jars.'

Harry blinked. 'Pardon?'

'Two singing house elf heads in bell jars. They are now illegal, so it would be inadvisable to remove them from Gringotts — that is in no way a professional legal opinion and Gringotts Bank Limited accepts no liability or responsibility for any actions carried out in reliance upon aforestated opinion.' He said the last very quickly.

'That's horrible,' said Harry, leaning back in the armchair. Of course, it was the Blacks, so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He frowned. 'Does anyone else have access to the Black account?'

'Technically, any direct Black male can use the vault. Practically, however, the late Sirius Black dismantled sufficient of the surrounding legal documents that you may treat all the Black assets as your own. As the sole males in the direct Black line are both dead, the family is to all extents and purposes at an end save as a legal entity — that is in no way —'

'I know,' said Harry, pushing his thoughts away from Sirius and the money he wouldn't — shouldn't — have had were it not for Voldemort.

'— legal opinion and Gringotts Bank Limited accepts no liability or responsibility for any actions carried out in reliance upon aforestated opinion. There is also a property, but I regret to say that we cannot seem to locate it in our records or via further enquiries. We will, of course, continue trying to solve the problem.'

'I know where the house is,' said Harry. 'Don't worry about that.'

The dawning realisation in Turvok's eyes made Harry want to kick himself. How much more of a clue did he want to give him?

'Finally, you have a small pewter medal given to you by the Ministry in thanks for defeating You-know-who. Do you have any further questions?' said Turvok.

Harry blinked. He'd lost his parents, and that was all the Ministry thought they were worth? 'I'm thinking about being a curse breaker after I finish school. Do you have any information you could give me?'

Turvok pushed three sheets of paper across the desk to Harry. 'If you ask at reception they should be able to give you a pamphlet about curse-breaking. If that is all, the final item is these contracts.'

Harry picked the first one up and read it. It renewed the contract he had with his financial manager for three years. He shrugged and signed it. He'd no idea how long his morbid treasure hunt would take him, and Gringotts had been managing his assets okay as far as he could tell.

He pulled the next one toward him. He was dimly aware of his mouth dropping open. The other one was virtually identical. But neither started until 'Can I book another appointment first thing tomorrow? And... if anyone asks... I haven't seen either contract yet.'

Turvok glanced at him, a knowing smirk replacing his otherwise permanent scowl for a moment. 'Of course.'

Harry nodded gratefully and left at a run.