First fanfic. Starts out a little dry but will get more interesting. Flames welcome.
Pairing: A tentative HPSS
There was a high crooning laughter in the darkness. "Wittle baby Potter wants to play?" Bellatrix Lestrange stepped from the shadows and reached out for the boy. Harry stumbled backwards and searched his pockets for his missing wand. A sudden light revealed his godfather sprawled helplessly on the stone floor. The witch cackled gleefully, "Crucio!"
Sirius began to scream and spasm; his eyes bulged and his hands clawed the air. Suddenly, the gently rustling veil loomed behind the animagus. Sirius slid across the floor toward the veil, drawn by some invisible force, still screaming. He was pulled upright into the veil and began to sink slowly behind it. He met Harry's eyes, "Why didn't you save me?"
Maniacal laughter filled the air. More voices joined the witch's. Voldemort was there as well as most of the death eaters. Harry could hear his parents and friends whispering spitefully from the shadows. Cedric stood before him, asking why it had not been the other way around. Harry should have been the one to die.
Harry woke tangled in his sheets and soaked in sweat. He reached for his glasses and checked the clock. It was 5:00am and the sky was just beginning to lighten. With a quiet groan, Harry pulled himself from bed. He was unlikely to go back to sleep anyway. He threw on some clothes and headed outside. He threw himself into his chores with zeal, anything to get his mind off his dreams. By the time the rest of the neighbourhood was waking, Harry had already finished the garden and hedges and nearly finished repainting the fence.
His aunt Petunia stuck her head out a window. "Boy," she hissed, "Get in here and clean yourself up. You have to make my Duddykins his birthday breakfast."
Harry stood and brushed himself off. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."
Once showered and dressed, Harry trudged into the kitchen. He found his aunt in her favourite chair by the kitchen window where she would pretend to sew while she watched the neighbours. She glanced up as he walked in, "Don't you dare burn anything."
"Yes, Aunt Petunia." The admonishment was completely unnecessary. Harry had not burned a meal since he was eight and then it was only because Dudley and Piers had decided to start a game of Harry hunting before breakfast.
Harry set about making breakfast from scratch and memory. He made French toast with whipped cream, and fruit in syrup, sausages, ham, kippers, chocolate chip pancakes, eggs Benedict, hash-browns, and gravy. He set it all on the table before helping grabbing an apple and a glass of milk before heading outside to finish painting and mow the lawn. His aunt did not object to him helping himself; she was the only member of the family who seemed to have taken the Order's warning to heart at the start of the holidays. Dudley had backed off as well, but that seemed to be more out of fear of Harry than the order. Dudley had started avoiding Harry as much as possible. They barely saw each other and that seemed to suit them both just fine. Uncle Vernon ignored Harry altogether and seemed a bit impressed that the boy had been assigning himself chores since he arrived in an attempt to keep himself occupied.
After an hour, Petunia came outside to speak to him, "We are going car shopping for Duddy's birthday and will be gone all day. You are to clean the kitchen and then not enter the house again until we return." She turned on her heel and strode back to the house.
As he finished the dishes, Harry made what was to be one of the first entirely selfish decisions of his life. He sprinted up the stairs to his aunt and uncle's room and rummaged through drawers until he found his uncle's spare set of keys. He retrieved his belongings from his room and the cupboard under the stairs and dragged his trunk out the front door. He wondered who was on guard duty today and how far he would get. He sprinted into a nearby alley and threw out his wand arm.
The Knight bus showed up in its usual manner, nearly assassinating an unfortunate cat, and Harry climbed on board. He kept his head down and was utterly grateful not to recognise the conductor, a bored looking man with a fake pureblood drawl and a scruffy outfit. He barely glanced in Harry's direction. One of the advantages of being a camera shy teenager was the fact that no matter how many pictures the daily profit posted of him, they were always outdated with his image desperately trying to hide. Most people failed to recognise him unless they heard his name or saw his scar. It helped that they expected an almost-sixteen-year-old and he looked thirteen at best.
Harry reached Diagon Alley without a problem. Had the Order even noticed he was missing? The street was less crowded than usual and the people present darted nervously between buildings. They paid no notice to the teenager making his way to Gringotts. Once in the bank, Harry faltered, he was not entirely certain how to proceed. In an attempt to put off the task ahead, Harry looked around the bank. It was every bit as grand and intimidating as he remembered, but it was mostly empty and Harry did not recognise any of the witches or wizards present. He did, however, recognise one of the goblins. Griphook was climbing out of a cart with a sadistic grin on his face alongside a rather green wizard.
Unsure of goblin protocol and hoping not to offend anyone, Harry greeted the young goblin with a bow. "Master Griphook, it is a pleasure to see you again. I hope the years have been kind to you."
The goblin's eye-brows shot up. "Indeed they have, Mister Potter, I am surprised you remember me."
Harry grinned, "Well that ride was hard to forget."
The Goblin chuckled, a grating sound that sounded suspiciously like a snarl. "May I inquire as to your business here today?"
"Actually I'm not sure where to begin. For starters, I don't have my key. I think Dumbledore has it. I need to purchase a place to stay, preferably around the alley and I'd like an account statement to see how much I have to work with. I'd also like to find the wizarding equivalent of an attorney so I can figure out just what limitations are placed on minors and if it is possible to become emancipated. I am not sure how much of that can be done through the bank but if you were willing to advise me on where to start. I'd be willing to pay you for your time."
"Mister Potter, are you telling me that no one has advised you on these matters before?"
"No sir."
The goblin sighed, "Follow me."
Harry was led to a large office with a regal looking goblin sitting behind the desk. He snarled at Griphook in gobbledygook and when Griphook responded the other Goblin gave Harry an assessing look. "Tell me Mister Potter, when did you receive your last account statement?"
"I've never received one sir."
The two goblins exchanged shocked looks and the goblin behind the desk growled a command that sent Griphook scurrying. He then readdressed Harry, "Allow me to introduce myself, Mister Potter, My name is Ragnok. I am the manager of this bank, local clan leader, and Britain's current chieftain. I would like to apologise on behalf of Gringotts for this gross oversight. It will be corrected the moment we discover the extent of the damage and rest assured the responsible parties will be brought to justice. I can only hope that this grievous error does not color your future dealings with our bank and the goblin nation."
Harry blinked, "I'm sorry, I don't understand what's going on."
"Mister Potter, Gringotts ought to have sent you monthly statements from the day you turned eleven. The fact that you have not received them indicates either incredible incompetence or treachery. As the account holder you are entitled to recompense which will be provided the moment we discover how much is owed."
"I see. Can I have an account statement while we wait, sir?"
"Of course, Mister Potter. I will require a blood sample to learn all you are entitled to."
"Call me Harry, please sir."
Harry allowed the goblin to prick his finger on an ornate blade. His blood dripped onto a blank sheet of parchment. Ragnok snapped his fingers and a stack of papers appeared on the desk. "This contains every transaction made to your accounts since you inherited them as well as any unclaimed inheritances you may be entitled to.
He eyed the pile with trepidation. "Is there any way I can have them summarized?"
Ragnok gave a toothy grin and snapped his fingers again. The pile of papers was reduced to a single page of numbers which Ragnok proceeded to translate. "Summarizing the Black and Potter estates, you have several businesses which while still lucrative have seen a decline in profits due to inattention. Several others appear to have management issues and the numbers do not add up as they should. You own 23 properties across Britain not currently supporting businesses and 82 prime vacation spots around the world, all in various states of repair. You have 37 house elves that seem to be pining for lack of a master. You have 12 family libraries and 16 vaults containing an unknown amount of family heirlooms and a grand total of 34019350644 galleons, 9983746564 sickles, and 1394898348 knuts."
Harry opened his mouth, let out an undignified squeak, and closed it again.
You also are entitled to the Lefey inheritance from your mother's line on the stipulation that you magically add Lefey to your name."
"But my mother was muggle born."
"The Lefey line died out over 300 years ago. Most likely, a squib descendant married into your mother's line at some point. I should warn you that they were a dark family and adding their name to yours may alter the way the wizarding world perceives you.
"I see."
"I also have a list of non-business transactions. Mrs. Petunia Dursley receives a generous monthly stipend for your care as well as a bonus around your birthday and Christmas that increases every year. I have a single transaction you made personally at age 11. Mrs. Molly Weasley has made a rather excessive withdrawal on your behalf, once a year since then."
"How excessive?"
"Enough to cover Hogwarts tuition for seven children."
"She's been stealing from me?"
A toothy grin, "It appears that way. Would you like to press charges?"
He thought of the empty Weasley vault he had seen in second year. "I don't think so. I just wish she'd asked instead. I would like to stop all funds to my aunt, though. I haven't received anything by way of care from them except for hand me down clothes and the minimum amount of food a person can survive on."
"If you do not wish to press charges, I would like to make a suggestion. It says here that you own a business by the name of Grunnings. Lily Potter purchased this business with the specific instructions that one Vernon Dursley always be allowed employment. Coincidentally, this is also one of the businesses with management issues. May I suggest an audit?"
Harry grinned, "Yes, thank you Chieftain. That will do quite nicely."
"Just Ragnok is fine Harry."
"Thank you Ragnok, may I ask who has been running my accounts until now?"
"Your accounts have been run by a wizard named Artimus Blueglade. Griphook is interrogating him now to ascertain whether he was acting alone or under someone else's instructions. The man was appointed by the executer of your parents will."
"And who was that?"
Another toothy grin, "Albus Dumbledore."
"I see. Is there any way to ensure that I am the only one with access to my accounts?"
Ragnok snapped his fingers. "It is done. All vaults are now warded so that only you may enter. Now, Griphook mentioned that you would like to be emancipated. As the heir of a lordship and a seat in wizengamot, three now if you claim the Lefey inheritance, you were entitled to emancipation under the advisor of your choice the day you turned eleven. At fifteen you are not required to have an advisor, all you have to do is stake your claim as the head of an ancient and noble house."
"How do I do that?"
Two rings appeared on the desk. "Simply try these on. They are invisible save to those who have been made aware of their existence. They also have many protection charms and an emergency portkey apiece. When you put them on, Magic will recognise you as the head of your family."
"You mentioned magically changing my name. Why must it be done with magic?"
"Birth certificates, like Hogwarts letters are written automatically with a magic quill. By claiming the name magically, it will be passed down to your offspring. Magical contracts and many wards, such as the one at the ministry's visitor entrance, are based on true-naming. A person using the wrong name will not be granted entrance, even if the name is legally theirs."
"Can a person change their name magically rather than just add to it?"
Three hours later Jaden Leonus Lefey stepped out of Gringotts bank for the first time.
Even random, two word reviews welcome
