Although the previous couple of days were at the very top of his list of the most stressful, dreadful days of his, more than century-and-half, long life, Esteban Potter awoke on the early morning of November the second, feeling more at ease than he did in over three years.
James' and Lily's deaths still pained him immeasurably, yes, there was no denying that, yet he knew that neither of the two of them would want either him, or anyone else they cared for, to drown themselves in grief. They chose the kind of life they led well aware of all the risks, and persisted in fighting for what they believed in, even when times had become so desperate that their own death was, if not certain, than extremely probable. They had died to give little Hen... little Harry, and countless other children, a better world to grow up in, and that thought soothed Esteban's weary hearth.
The sight that met him as he exited the small study, that connected to the master bedroom, where Ahab and Tifty had set him up a narrow, yet comfortable guest bed, soothed the rest of sadness to only slight sense of melancholy on the outskirts of his mind.
Sometime during the night, little Harry managed to get from beside his grandmother, to plopped sideways across her. In a way, it was strange seeing his grandson sleeping comfortably on Loreal, since his father, some... could it really be twenty-one years ago?... refused, from he was two months old, to go to sleep anyway other than alone in his little crib. He had even developed his very own special, 'I-want-to-go-to-sleep' wail, that he continuously repeated until he was placed into the crib and left alone.
As he ventured down the stairs, he was met by strangely entertaining sight. Ahab and Tifty, their aged house elf, were in the middle of one of their usual heated arguments, more than probably caused by Tifty claiming that Ahab was once again doing what was supposed to be his, Tifty's, job. Of to the side, on the special, custom-made chair, an ancient goblin was calmly sipping a cup of something that faintly smelled of phosphorus, and with an unconcealed amusement observed the shouting-spar before him. And then, he raised his gaze to Esteban and with slightly feral grin, winked to him.
"What are they fighting about this time?" he asked in half-tired-half-bemused tone. The problem with having Ahab, a Djin, around was that the other magical sentients, by custom, had to speak to him in ancient Tian, which was the archlanguage of all magical creatures. Thus, he never knew exactly what were the two of them fighting about at any given time, unless there was someone around, like Gomnob in this case, to translate it to him.
"As always, it is quite difficult to follow the course of their fight, since they jump from point to point like crazed leprechauns on too much scotch. But, the gist of it is as I understand, the point of which of them will get the honor of taking care of your grandson." Although Gomnob was old, even for a goblin, his voice was always clear and strong. And after that answer, his face became completely serious, and the undertone of levity was lost from his voice. "My condolences for Lily and James, they were wonderful young people."
"Thank you. I have to point out to you, though, that your sentiments were expressed in a very ungoblinlike manner" Esteban answered him with a melancholic smile. Then he turned to the arguing pair. He started to say something, to break up the argument, when he noticed an unobtrusive movement at the far end of the room. His eyes immediately alighted, as a most marvelous idea struck him.
"Sestra, will you please join us" he called out, making sure he was heard by his pair of servants.
Almost guiltily, a truly tiny house elf abandoned cleaning the dust, and approached him, all the time wringing the edge of her toga-like towel garment. For a house elf, it had surprisingly human features. It's tan was somewhat fairer than that of the other house elves, bespeaking it's youth. It's luminous brown eyes were somewhat angular, and speckled with gold, and it's nose was not so much pointy as it was delicate. Even it's ears and chin were, all things considered, very well shaped.
"Master Esteban called?" Her gaze was downward pointed, as she asked in voice that strongly resembled higher pitches of panpipes.
"Sestra, how would you like to change masters?" He asked her in soft, calming tone.
His words were met with double cries. Tifty, ran up, and scooped Sestra in his arms ignoring all propriethood, and started to wail at the prospect of his granddaughter being removed from serving the Potter family. Likewise, Ahab let all his proper demeanor slide off, as he began to shout in Tian, something that without the need for interpreter, Esteban understood was far from complimenting.
Amid that chaos, although her eyes were welling up in tears, Sestra stood stoically, her eyes still downward.
"If master thinks I is not being suitable to serve him, I is going to oblige. But if master is asking about my thinking on the option, I is not liking it at all."
"Even if the master you would be serving is still member of this family?" Esteban asked in official tone.
It took but a moment for Sestra to understand the meaning behind his words. Her eyes wondered in astonishment, and she began to splutter in surprise at the prospect.
"But to entrust it to someone so young as I... I is meaning... I...I is not understanding..."
Her surprise though, was nothing compared to the astonishment of Tifty, who looked about ready to faint, and Ahab who was standing stock still, his mouth wide agape, and his skin taking up pale purplish tint.
"Than, it is settled. I'll pass you on to Harry this evening" And with those words, he dismissed all three of his servants, and turned his complete attention to Gomnob.
"I guess that there was some special reason of your visitation?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. Someone in the ministry made an attempt to freeze all holdings of your late son and his family. I already made contacts and arranged a private investigation. My assessment is that, save for young Henry's…" Gomnob's business voice was brisk, and seethed with officiallity and competence.
"Harry's" Esteban corrected him with grim expression on his face.
"Please, Esteban, I'm talking officially in these matters…"
"That is his official name, for all reasons and purposes, save magical rituals, or presentings before the queen, as per his mother's legal request. I doubt that anyone not directly connected to this household is even aware of his full name."
"I stand corrected. Now, can I carry on?" There was a certain unpleasant edge in Gomnob's voice. "…As I was saying, it is my assessment of the situation that this breach would have caused liquidation of all their assets, save for Harry's trust fund. To prevent it, I took liberty to speed up the inheritance process, and placed all of the endangered holdings directly under Harry's immediate trust contract, to be gained at the time when his legal guardians grant it to him, or, in the case that guardians are in any way rendered incapable of making such decision, at the time he legally request them."
With every word coming out of Gomnob's mouth, Esteban's face became grimmer, and grimmer. By the time his accountant finished his summarization, his face was locked in frightful scowl.
"Thank you for bringing this up to me. Your actions have quite certainly prevented a catastrophe, and for that, feel free to take twenty percent up on your regular bonus this year."
The goblin's weathered face showed no trace of emotion, but his eyes held a predatory, self satisfied glint.
"I trust you will keep me informed of the progress of the investigation? Good! Than the only other matter left to discuss is finding some promising young goblin to manage Harry's business affairs, under your expert guidance of course.
Gomnob gave him a shrewd gaze.
"You are making sure he is completely self-sufficient, within any possible outcome. Why?"
"That is an interesting observation, what gave you such idea?" Esteban responded mildly, with a question of his own.
"Please, Esteban, I taught you these games, as I did your father before you, and aided in education of his father. Don't play dumb and evasive with me." There was a reproving sketchiness in ancient goblin's voice, and his eyes narrowed, as he gazed at Esteban.
"Sorry. You are correct, of course…" ("naturally") "I am preparing my grandson for independence. The reason is not difficult to fathom, though. I am old, my old friend, and I feel my age with every fiber of my being. I could live for another thirty years, or I could expire as soon as tomorrow, there is no way of knowing which of those two extremes is closer. But in the case it is the later one, do you really think Loreal would outlive me by more than perhaps a month? You know what would happen if we died before Harry turned twenty one. All of this, and with those words I entail everything my family created since it came into the magical world, and even before that, in the times when we were minor muggle nobility during the times of first kingdoms post Roman Empire, would fall apart, or in the best case get devaluated to only a fraction of what it is worth today. I want to make sure that if that indeed gets to be the case, Harry feels the least amount of damage; what has happened a few nights ago, will make his life very difficult, as it is… I've been ranting, haven't I?"
His answer was a toothed grin.
"I know just a perfect goblin. She'll fit in your little scheme like a glove, and I don't even have to teach her business."
"I was not aware that there were any female goblins in the business." Esteban's voice was mildly surprised, and moderately curious.
"Only clan Sherubb, lets their females into the business, and even there, only those of Mabungda's lair."
"That was the fifth queen of Ch'gang alliance, wasn't she?"
"K'somb alliance, actually. Same time frame, wrong area."
"Ah, yes, now I remember. She was the one that managed the accords of Balkans. The hidden gold mines, right?"
"Precisely. We are in a chunk of luck considering her. She is actually a renegade from her family, and since no other clan would take her, your offer would work on mutual benefit."
"And what do you gain from it?"
"Employment for my Feedrac, naturally."
"Sentimentality? From you Gomnob?" Now Esteban was really surprised.
The aged Goblin gave him almost whimsical smirk, and mockingly innocent shrug of shoulders for answer.
"Well, thank you, both for the aid you have already given me, and the helping with the Harry situation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to make." Slowly recovering Esteban nodded curtly to Gomnob, and left him to continue with his drink. He traversed the other two sets of stairs briskly, and paused in the atrium where Ahab awaited him, a thick, impressive, of almost black dark blue hue, high collared traveling cloak with Potter family sigil embroidered in silver over the hearth, already prepared for Esteban's outing.
As Ahab fussed over his appearance, Esteban lightly raped his fingers over an old portrait that depicted lightly snoring, thin, tall, middle-aged man with a mop of thick, graying unruly hair.
"Whaaa… Oh, it's you 'Ban, whadayou want?" The suddenly awakened portrait mumbled, as he sleepily squinted at Esteban.
"Very articulate, Jasper." Esteban answered dryly. "I was wondering if you could find someone back in ministry who could inform Hogwarts headmaster that I'll be paying him a visit."
"Consider it done!" Now completely awakened portrait of late H. Jasper L. I. I. F. Potter (1220-1265) departed sideways thru his frame.
-.-.-.-.-
The argument was fierce, with Esteban Potter doing the arguing, and Albus Dumbledore trying, unsuccessfully, to save at least some grace.
"So, we have an understanding?" Esteban asked in detached, impersonal voice, which once was well known, and quite usually feared, in the courtrooms of Wizengamont.
"Yes, Esteban, we have an understanding. No need to beat me over the head with it. And, if you had paused in your 'presenting of the case' for a moment, we could have ended that discussion an hour ago." Although, such snippy comment was very unbecoming for a wizard of such stature, something in the older man always brought up the worst out of the headmaster of Hogwarts.
"It might have ended much sooner, but you would not have had all the data on what you would have been agreeing on to, now would you?" And, as it always had been, Esteban's hidden depths of bland cynism bet up Albuses sulkiness heads down.
"I give up. As usual, you win." Albus sighed in mocked defeat.
"I find your attempts at humor as lacking as your judgment, Albus, and I'm certain I'm not the only one."
Another sigh escaped the illustrious Headmaster, this one for real.
"It shall be as you say, Esteban. I'll inform you as soon as I get any news about young mister Black. How do you intend to return to Wizengamont?"
"The last time I checked, I was still lord, and retain a seat at council of lords, in muggle world, and the ministry is still under direct jurisdiction of the crown, although the crown had not exercised those rights in the last three hundred something years. I believe her majesty is entitled to more direct overview of the happenings here in the wizarding world than our… ahem… esteemed minister is allowing to dribble back to the Prime-minister of the muggle government, and I'm almost certain that the prime-ministers never mention anything they find about this world."
"You are positively vile, Esteban." Contrary to the words he uttered, Albuses face was graced with a cynical little smirk.
"Every politician is, my dear boy, I thought you'd have learned that by now." Came bland answer from Esteban's impassive face. Another point up for the old man; Albus depreciatively wondered why did he even try anymore.
-.-.-.-.-
Barthemius Crouch was absolutely fuming as he hurried to the courtroom five, for a trial of one Sirius Orion Black, whom he himself had signed an order to be sent to Azkaban directly, for his role as an accomplice to the murders of James and Lily Potter, and murdering one Peter Pettigrew and twelve mugles.
Holding the trial was a waste of resources, since the evidences of the guilt were overwhelming, but some idiot decided to undermine his authority and call forth this trial. Well, one thing was for certain, and that was that when he found out just who that idiot was, pits of Hades would seam preferable to said person, that the wraith of Crouch.
As he burst into the courtroom, he did not even observe the customary procedures of identifying himself, and proving he was who he appeared to be.
"Under whose authority is this trial called!"
Quite unexpectedly, his furious rant was cut short by cold, impassionate, deep voice answering.
"I did. And if you don't give proof that you indeed belong here, young man, you better prepare for a long time in detention, for what you are doing now is breaching, and you have no les than eight wands pointed up at you, and the only thing stopping them from firing is my voice."
Two sudden realizations hit Barthemius. First was how close he was at the moment at being hospitalized, and the other was just who exactly was responsible for this so called trial. Neither of them managed to improve his mood; quite the contrary. He quickly produced his patronus and proceeded to deal with the old man who had the audacity to challenge him.
In icy tone of voice he spoke up.
"I can understand your whish to make a big, public condemnation out of this Mr. Potter, but your grief is not a reason to waste ministry resources. Furthermore, you might have presided this court once, but at this point in time you have no authority whatsoever…"
"Two wrong, out of four statements. You have let your ambition rot away your common sense Crouch. It is truth that mine, or anyone's else grief is reason for wasting resources, although many waste them for far worse reasons. It is also truth that I once presided this court. Everything else you have just spoken, though, along with your reasoning, is pure nonsense. You cannot understand my whish of making any kind of condemnation here, for there is none. Secondly, if you had kept more attention to things happening right beneath your, oh so carefully trimmed, mustache, you would have known that as a liaison to the crown, I have all sorts of authority in the ministry, including calling forth a trial. Now, if you cannot behave accordingly, you better leave now, for I have had just about enough of your pomposity."
There was not a trace of anything but dry professionalism in Esteban's voice, but Barty flinched as if he were slapped by the venerable man before him.
-.-.-.-.-
The funeral was a stately affair, marred only by the fact that Lily's parents were still incapable of leaving St. Mungos, and thus could not be present.
Not many people were present, considering the popularity of the couple, but Esteban, and even more so Loreal had made it abundantly clear that the funeral was not to be made into some big political or media parade, and especially, that they will not tolerate anyone showing up only so he could gawk at their grandson.
It still surprised Esteban how much better had Loreal become in the few short days since the tragedy that left their grandson in their care. Although her legs still could not support her, and in all truth probably never again would, all the other traces of weakness brought on by her illness disappeared completely from her bearing. She sat on in perfect, almost royal dignity, with baby Harry in her arms, and although her melancholy was apparent, she neither wept, nor gave any other outward appearance that she was in sorrow.
In the front row, besides the Potters and their assorted staff, only eight more people sat: five men, two women, and a baby: James's two best friends, Headmaster of Hogwarts and his deputy; the Longbottom family; and Mrs. Longbottom's father, who was also an old family friend to the Potters. Besides the longstanding friendship there were few more reasons for Longbottoms to attend at front row. Mrs. Alice Longbottom just happened to be Lily's best friend from school, and if circumstances had been slightly different, it might just have been their own funeral.
AN: This chapter is in a way dedicated to Little Morgsi because her review shoved me that I had chaffed for far too long in updating. My problems with my ex beta should not have made me delay for so long. Thus, I apologise for the delay, and for the roughness of the next few chapters untill I find a new beta. I'll try to make sure that the next chapter comes out by the end of the month, ideally, within two weeks. I also apologise for multitude of plotbunnies I'll be (and already am) releasing. Some of them will end up in a stew; the rest will remain hopping around. It is because I'm still not entirely certain where it'll all end, and I like to lay as much as I can during the way, so I'm not forced to improvise later on.