Harry Potter and Adventures in Lordship
The same disclaimer from chapter one still applies: I do not own, nor receive any revenues from Harry Potter or this work. Also, the following chapters will be less likely to lift sections from the cannon novels.
Chapter Two: Harry
"My WHAT?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raising into his hairline.
"Your vote, Mr. Potter." Madame Bones sighed. "Any time a member of the Wizengamot, or a family member of a House seat on the Wizengamot, is a defendant in a trial, that House may not vote. That way there is no conflict of interests. As the defendant at this disciplinary hearing, House Potter's vote is rescinded for this trial."
"What do you mean, 'family seat'? I thought the Wizengamot council was elected. And House Potter?" Harry turned towards Dumbledore. "I've never been told ANYTHING about House Potter." Evasion and omission is just as bad a lying. Why am I always the last to know anything about my family?
"This is a highly unusual time, Lord Potter," an annoyed voice from the back of the chamber interrupted Harry's tirade. "It is not the purpose of the Wizengamot to fill in the rather vast gaps in your education. Madame Bones, I move that we finalize the vote on Harry Potter's disciplinary hearing and then adjourn the council. Some of us haven't had breakfast yet."
"Very well, Mr. Greengrass. Would all those in favor of Mr. Potter's innocence please vote again—not you, though, Mr. Potter."
Harry watched avidly while more than half of the Wizengamot voted in favor of his acquittal. Yes! Freedom! Hogwarts! My wand! Elated and smiling, Harry stood.
"Mr. Potter, the Wizengamot finds you innocent of all charges. Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot, this trial is officially closed. We are adjourned." Madame Bones nodded towards Harry, and the rest of the Wizengamot began filing towards the doors.
"Professor Dumbledore, this is fantastic!" Harry turned towards his mentor, only to find him gone. I wish I could get him to TELL me something about what's going on. I feel like I'm missing something really important. Harry sighed and leaned against the Accused's Chair, watching the Wizengamot members file out of the room.
"Mr. Potter." Harry swung around, rattling the chains at his feet, to see Madame Bones to his left.
"Ah, um, yes, Madame Bones?" Is there something else? Oh no. I'm still going to get expelled from Hogwarts. Harry swallowed nervously and tried to smile pleasantly.
"Mr. Potter, I have to ask you: what do you know?"
"What do I know?" Harry repeated. "Well, compared to Hermione, not much. I'm sorry, Madame Bones."
"That's not what I meant, Harry. I realize that you grew up with Muggles, and perhaps you don't understand all the nuances of Wizarding culture, but surely Dumbledore has explained some of these things to you. Important things, such as your parents' will." Madame Bones raised the eyebrow above her monocle.
"Well, no, he hasn't. They do have a will, then? I suspected they did; so did Hermione. She said that if they hadn't a will, I might not have my vault; something about dying interstate? Of course, she said Wizarding law might be different from Muggle law, so I'm not really sure," Harry said with a shrug.
"It's 'intestate' and it as the only child of the Potters, you would have received all the property anyway." Madame Bones answered. "You really don't know anything about what inheriting the Potter estate really entails, do you? Dumbledore hasn't told you anything." Madame Bones frowned.
"Sure he has! He's told me the names of my father's friends! And I know-"
"Not half of what you are entitled to, my boy," she interrupted. "I suppose the Weasleys haven't been able to tell you anything, either?"
"Um, I'm afraid not." Harry wrinkled his brow, and turned towards the door. Most of the Wizengamot was gone, and he could see Mr. Weasley standing at the door, waiting to hear how the trial had gone. "Maybe Mr. Weasley can. Mr. Weasley!" Harry called, waving to his almost-guardian.
Arthur Weasley rapidly approached Harry and Madame Bones, a look of concern on his face. "Oh, dear, Amelia, did something go badly? You know that Harry's a good boy, just doing what he felt was right…"
"Oh, Arthur, calm down! Everything went fine." Madame Bones looked back and forth between Mr. Weasley and Harry. "It just seemed that Harry didn't know nearly as much about the procedures of the Wizengamot as the Heir to the Potter Estate should. His education about such things is woefully deficient."
She knows something, something that I should know. Something that's mine by right, I can feel it. Something that was tied to my parents. Harry suddenly understood Hermione's incessant thirst for knowledge. Harry looked back and forth between the two adults, who were looking at each other and him. Deadlocked!
"Well, now, Amelia, I don't-"
"Tell me everything you know, Madame Bones." Harry interrupted. "I'm sick and tired of people treating me like a painfully slow child. I'm fifteen now, and deserve to know what's going on with my life!" Madame Bones smirked, and Mr. Weasley looked concerned. "I promise I'll be careful, Mr. Weasley. And I'll come back to the Burrow tonight, if you'll still have me."
"Of course we'll still have you, Harry! You're just about part of the family. Besides, Molly would have my head if I lost you. Just be good, eh?" Mr. Weasley reached over and shook hands with Madame Bones. "I'll leave him with you then, Amelia." Mr. Weasley patted harry on the shoulder, and then left the trial room, probably heading back to his office. I sure hope he doesn't have to deal with anymore exploding toilets today.
"Thank you, Arthur. I'll Floo him back to the Burrow this evening, then," she replied approvingly. "Now, Harry, we'll have to go to Gringotts, come along. You do have your key, don't you?"
"Uh, yes ma'am." Madame Bones glanced around the room once more, ask if making sure everyone had left, then turned smartly on her heel and led Harry out of the room.
"Good. We'll be needing that today. Now, Harry, I don't know what you know about muggle inheritance laws and such, but I just want to tell you that Wizarding laws tend towards the archaic. Not that that's always a bad thing; sometimes that can work in one's favour." Harry nodded. "Your parents did leave a will, naming you as their heir and leaving quite a list of potential guardians. After all, we were at war, and they were afraid for you and wanted you to have the best care from loving friends should anything happened to them. I know this because I was one of those potential guardians and one of their witnesses. Dumbledore was the executor of their will; he should have been telling you all these things for these last few years." Amelia sighed, and continued to lead Harry out of the Ministry of Magic and towards Diagon Alley.
"So you mean I WASN'T supposed to go live with the Dursleys and I got sent there anyway?" asked Harry, bug-eyed.
Madame Bones frowned again. "I'm afraid so, Harry. There was a lot going on, I know. Perhaps Dumbledore felt it would be best for you to grow up away from all the hubbub of the Wizarding world. Still, when you joined us at age eleven, there were things that Dumbledore should have been teaching you, or finding others to teach you. The Potter family is an old family, and has ties to other old families whose names have died out. As such, there are certain responsibilities that you must tend to; Dumbledore should have told you, but he apparently hasn't, or you would not have such a hard time today for your trial—a trial that should have only been a hearing, mind you. What Fudge is up to, I'll never figure out." She shook her head angrily, leading Harry past all the shops that dotted the street on the way to the Wizarding bank.
"Does this mean that Dumbl—that someone is controlling my accounts and stuff?" Harry asked.
"Yes. As your executor and, apparently, self-appointed guardian, Dumbledore can 'deal' with a few things that you can't just yet. Harry, have you ever heard of 'emancipation' before?"
"Isn't that what Hermione wanted to do to all the house elves? Free them?"
"Well, something like that. There's a muggle law called 'emancipation of a minor' which basically means that, even though you are below the age of majority, you are considered an adult, and have the rights—and responsibilities—as such. There is a similar, though archaic Wizarding variant sometimes used when an older minor is left as the sole heir of a Wizarding line who feels that his guardian is misappropriating funds or the instructions set out for the minor is his or her parents' will. Now, mind, I'm not trying to set you against Dumbledore; he's a great wizard. He's just gotten very old, and tends to look at the whole picture. In such, he tends to miss out on a great many details."
Harry and Madame Bones stepped inside of Gringotts. Harry fished around in his pocket for his vault key as they approached a desk.
"How may I help you today?" wheezed the goblin.
"I need to aquire the proper paperwork for Mr. Harry J. Potter's claim of emancipation and right to the Potter-Peverell family vault," Madame Bones coolly demanded.
The goblin raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And this is Mr. Potter? Do you have your key?"
Harry raised his key. "I am, and I do. I want that paperwork."
The goblin smirked. "Very well. I'll fetch it and be right back."
Harry looked over at Madame Bones. "All this paperwork is going to be worse than writing for History of Magic, isn't it?"
Madame Bones nodded sadly. "I hope your penmanship is good. The goblins are sticklers for that sort of thing." Harry looked at her worriedly, and she cracked a grin. "Ok, not really, but it's much better if all the paperwork is easy to read."
Just then the goblin returned with a rather impressive stack of parchment. "Here you go. There is a table over there-" the goblin indicated a table towards their left "-and I hope you have a very pleasant afternoon."
Madame Bones thanked him and took the parchments. This is going to be worse than writing for History of Magic AND potions. Harry groaned. "I hate writing."
"Well, I'll be here to help you and answer any questions. However, this must all be in your own hand." She handed him a quill. "This is a special quill for people applying for such things. It's similar to the quills used at Hogwarts for your exams; you can't write lies with it, and you can't pretend to be someone else when paperwork is being done. So I can't do it for you."
Several hours later, and with more than a few ink blotches on his hands and shirt, Harry turned his paperwork in to the Head Banking Goblin. He looked the paperwork over, and then turned to Harry. "There is just one more thing; a bit of a test. I do hope you are who you say you are, or this could get rather…messy." The goblin went into his office, and returned several minutes later with a fair-sized signet ring set with a carefully carved onyx. "This ring is the key to the vault. It's the signet of the Potter-Peverell line. It's attuned to that family; if you're not who you say you are, the ring will know."
It seemed to Harry that time almost froze. It took him years to reach over to the goblin and take the ring, decades to draw it back to himself, and a century to slide it onto his own finger. Then he took a breath, and time returned to normal. I'm not exploded.
The goblin grinned wryly. "Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You are who you say you are. Please go to the tunnels, there you may go to vault number eighty-two. That ring will act as a key and open the vault for you."
Harry got to enjoy a hair-raising right with Madame Bones, who seemed much less upset about it than Hagrid did. "Vault number eighty-two!" cried the conductor goblin as they arrived.
Harry opened the vault and looked inside.
Oh, wow. This is going to take a while. I hope Hermione needs a new project.