Special thanks to Home Orchid and Princess of Circus, my beta-readers.
"Harold James Percival Victor Theophrastus Jacob Potter Peverell Windsor de Valois Yngling Napoleon Romanov von Sachsen-Coburg-Gotha van Oranje-"
The Goblin cried swaying from side to side; he looked like a wailer.
"Hagrid," Harry looked at his giant guide and tugged at his sleeve. "Where are all these people, though?" Hagrid blew off.
"Duc d'Anjou, seigneur de Bussy, Vicomte de Bragelonne, el infante de Espana y ambas Indias, comte de Provence, comte de Lorraine-"
Goblin continued his rhapsody, rolling his eyes.
Harry stopped listening to Goblin's words about some unknown people although they were obviously grandees. Instead, he paid attention to his nose and its contents.
"The 147th Earl of Black, the 214th Marquess of Malfoy, the 1239th Baron Dumbledore," Goblin whiffed and scratched his left ear.
"These people are creditors, aren't they?" asked Harry, helplessly. 'Creditor' was the word for Uncle Vernon's living nightmare.
"Harry… I mean, eh, mister, sir," Hagrid mumbled, damped by this list. "It's fucking you - sorry, eh, sir, Merlin bless your ancestors."
"One thousand … and lots," Harry said. "It's a number; I think it's too … much, isn't it?"
"Your family, sir, is a family of great antiquity," Goblin gave him a bow.
"That won't mend matters," Harry shrugged. "I just want to get some money," he added humbly.
"Sure, sir!" Goblin exclaimed. "So, here's the list. Malfoy Manor, Great Britain. As far as I know, Lucius Malfoy's living there, but it's easy to cast him out. Grimmauld Place, the family house, there's only one, according to your real estate sheet; actually, the whole Grimmauld Place belongs to you. Sirius Black's house, which he bought in the middle of nowhere after he had come into fortune — we still can't find it, although we know exactly that it exists. And some trivia: the ex-cottage in Godric Hallow. The ruins of it," Goblin flitted through the pages of his hefty book. "It's not really noteworthy. Then, some castles in France, Spain, among them Escorial, then, in the Czech Republic, the Netherlands and Sweden, one apartment in Miami, one villa in Corfu, some islands in Indonesia."
"Who would have ever expected that!" Hagrid butted in.
"A distant family member of the Blacks – that is, a distant relative of young mister Potter – married a New Russian," Goblin explained. "They were killed with a bomb in that terrible Moscow not so long ago – ither due to their Russian You-Know-Who or just Russian property redistribution," Goblin shrugged. "There are some more assets, but they are virtually peanuts."
"Do you have a full register?" asked Harry. He was getting thoughtful.
"Be sure, my lord! Your wealth is more than two billion one hundred and ninety seven million galleons here in Gringotts … Frankly speaking, we don't know how to cash them," Goblin looked embarrassed. "I'm reading this for you because the others don't even know such figures … You've got bank accounts in some muggles' banks in the U.S., South America, East Europe, Russia and Switzerland, in the Middle East, Norway-"
"Is that all?" Harry took off his old glasses, inspected them, and then sat down.
"Not quite. There are some more trifles," Goblin assured him. "Here," he clapped on his hefty book. His hand was like a flat paw. "That's yours," he sighed heavily. "Gringotts is yours, too, I'm afraid. Because we'll never manage to cash that enormous amount – neither as a lump sum nor as-"
"Well, Harry," Hagrid said impatiently. "Let's take two hundred galleons and go to the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate-"
"What?" Harry asked. "Two hundred galleons?"
Goblin's face tragically fell; he shielded his face with his ears.
"D'you think you need more for Hogwarts?" asked Hagrid raising his eyebrows.
"For Hogwarts!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm a dollar billionaire!"
"Oh, yes, sir," Goblin confirmed sadly.
"It's as good as a headache, your Hogwarts," Harry put his glasses on and nodded thoughtfully, his eyes half-closed. "All I need is a perfect school. I have to persuade Dursley, though; I'm even ready to pay for Dudley's studying there!" He sniffed. "Then I have to get into the world's best university. Pity, I've discovered it so late," he said regretfully. "Neither Eton nor any other school for me this year. Still, better late than never, I think. Can I have, please, two hundred … no, three hundred thousand pounds," he asked Goblin.
Goblin was as happy as a clam.
"Harry!" Hagrid began to protest. "Do you … d'you wanna return to … be here … there with muggles?"
"Of course I do," Harry looked at him compassionately. "I have to learn to manage this extreme wealth. Damn, Dudley will eat his heart out. It's not some silly Monopoly! I'm a fucking squillionaire!"
"Harry, but you are-" Hagrid tried to appeal to his conscience. "You're the Boy Who Lived!"
The Greatest and Most Powerful Wizard's envoy tried to appeal to the young heir's sense of duty. Fearing that The Greatest and Most Powerful Wizard might hit him with 'Crucio', he wrinkled his forehead.
"You vanquished You-Know-Who! You're the hero and the hope of the wizarding world!"
"The hero, eh," Harry shrugged. "So, as I understood, this bank is just a vault. How much money was lost because nobody managed my wealth? Even Uncle Vernon is better with his penny," Harry sniffed. "And what about my funds in Russia? In South America? It's a great risk to keep money in countries with seesaw policy. You have been watching me rot in the cupboard under the stairs for eleven years and waiting for me to grow up and face my doom. Do you expect me now to fight with You-Know-Fucked-Him?"
"Harry," Hagrid made one last desperate attempt to bring him round. "You're the Chosen One!"
"Yeah, I am," Harry answered with a pleased smile. "I am the Chosen One to rule my world single-handedly. This eh … noble man has just confirmed it," he looked at the Goblin. "Am I still your Chosen One to die? No, I am not!"