Disclaimer: All things you recognize from JK Rowling's books are hers. I make no money. This is purely for my entertainment.
A/N: I have made some significant changes to this chapter. My change in state of mind made me realize that the story is better served by the edits I have made. Overall plot shall not change.
Please review! Happy reading!
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Chapter Two: Gringotts
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"How are you feeling, Harry?"
Harry groaned and sat up, groping blindly for his glasses. A hand helpfully offered the spectacles, and Harry blinked as the figure swam into focus.
"I took the liberty of repairing them for you," said Albus Dumbledore, his fingers steepled over his crossed knees.
"What are you doing here, Professor?" said Harry with no small measure of annoyance, rubbing his head. It felt as if someone had taken a cricket bat to it.
"I could ask what you were doing last evening," sighed the old man. "I thought we had discussed the consequences of these little outbursts."
Dumbledore levelled Harry with an even stare over his half-moon spectacles, but Harry looked straight back at him.
"I was leaving, sir. The Dursleys don't want me to stay, and I don't want to waste however much life I have left being miserable with them."
"I think you'll find yesterday's argument to be quite behind them, Harry," said Dumbledore sternly. "It would please me greatly if you would put it out of your mind, as well."
"Did you stun me, sir?"
Harry, rubbing a hand over his aching head.
"I apologize, dear boy. There were others about who had much worse in mind for you. It was the most efficient method of returning you home without fuss."
Harry stared at his lap, his hands clenching in the threadbare duvet.
"Where did you send Hedwig, Harry?"
"To Hermione's, sir," Harry grumbled, still refusing to look the elder wizard in the eye.
"Wise decision. No doubt Miss Granger shall be able to bring her along when you leave Privet Drive at the end of the month," said Dumbledore glibly.
Harry remained silent, furious.
"I know that you are suffering a great deal, Harry," sighed the older man at length, "But this is not the way to behave. I know the Dursleys are not kind; however, this is the only place I can guarantee your safety for the time being."
Another moment of tense stillness passed between the two as the headmaster tried and failed to draw Harry's gaze.
"Or was Sirius's sacrifice in vain? Perhaps you have yet to understand that particular lesson."
Harry flinched and looked up with shock clear in his eyes. The corners of Dumbledore's thin mouth turned up in a pacifying smile.
"Then it's settled. Please remain here until I come to collect you. I promise it won't be long. I have spoken to your aunt and uncle of their harsh treatment of you this afternoon, and have assured them that any other such incidents will be met with unpleasant consequences on their part."
Harry nodded numbly.
"…And to ensure that no such incidents occur again due to anything resulting from your actions," the headmaster began remorsefully, his blue eyes absent of their usual twinkle, "I've also placed an inhibiter upon you to prevent further bouts of accidental magic. It would not do for either the ministry or Tom to be alerted of activity here. Friends shall be nearby at all times. I hope you understand why this was necessary."
The headmaster rose, patted his student's knee, and departed Number Four without further ado.
The following days found Harry stubbornly ensconced in his room, idly flipping the DA galleon and missing Hedwig's familiar company. He tossed and turned on his thin, hard mattress, vacillating between anger at Dumbledore and remorse for Sirius. When not brooding, he stood vigil beside his window, watching for hidden Order members or their foes.
It was during one of these periods that Harry was forced out of his taciturnity. Bony knuckles rapped sharply on his door.
"Out! Come out and help me," Petunia commanded, her voice harried. "Vernon's promotion celebration is tonight and I haven't enough hands to do with."
"And what if I'd rather not?" Harry grumbled under his voice even as he opened the door. Dumbledore's admonition still rang in his mind.
"The garden needs weeding, and the lawn needs mowing," Petunia snapped, turning back down the stairs as soon as her nephew emerged from the bedroom.
Harry took the pruning shears and spade from the garden shed without a word, pocketing his galleon on the way out the door. His sharp eyes scanned the flowerbeds for weeds and only found a few. Petunia Dursley's garden was magazine-like in appearance. The only weeds that dared to grow were of the flowering variety and even then, these innocuous greens were eradicated as soon as they came up. With a sigh, Harry fell heavily to his knees before the hydrangeas and began the slow task of pulling out the offending clovers.
The sun had just begun leaning west in the sky by the time Harry had finished mowing the lawn in exact diagonal lines, pruning the evergreen shrubs, and weeding the flowerbeds. His too-large shirt clung to his back and chest as the heat beat down on his neck. He could feel his skin burning. Sweat dripped from his brow and soaked his hair. His shorts – which had once been a pair of Dudley's castoff jeans – were dirtied with mud. The galleon in his pocket felt uncomfortably heavy against his thigh as he pushed the mower back to the garden shed. By the time he had tidied up the shed and locked the door, Harry could hear Dudley's favourite afternoon programme on the television. Sorely missing the Gryffindor boys' showers (he was only allowed one sketchy, lukewarm wash per day to "save" on water), Harry re-entered the house through the back door, removed and plastic-bagged his trainers, and tramped up the stairs for a cool towel and a change.
Despite his voluntary seclusion the past several days, Harry could not have helped but hear about Uncle Vernon's promotion. He had returned home practically bursting with the news the evening after the foreign hair incident. So, it was with alacrity that Harry washed his face and hands, doused a face cloth with cool water, and retreated to his room to avoid being in the way of the inevitable dinner party. Vernon's car pulled into the drive around four. More vehicles lined number four's curb by five. By six, the smell of roasted chicken wafted up the stairs.
Somewhere between the sounds of cutlery-on-china and the too-happy laughter following toasts, Harry fell into a fitful sleep. In his dreams, a chained Sirius shouted for Harry to run. A shrivelled black hand reached for him, coming closer while he struggled to move his leaden feet. Somewhere, a woman screamed. It sounded like his mother, at first, but grew shriller and more frantic as he clapped his hands to his ears.
"Vernon, no!"
"I've had enough, Petunia. Quite enough! That little good-for-nothing has spoiled things for the last time!"
The bedroom door slammed open and Harry sat bolt upright, his hands grasping for his wand. As his fingers brushed against the smooth handle, meaty fingers grabbed him by the hair and yanked him forward out of the bed.
"They'll know, Vernon!" Petunia shrieked, her pale, bony fingers clawing at her husband's arm.
"I don't give a damn anymore! Freaks, the lot of them – I won't stand for this nonsense any longer."
Harry righted himself amongst a tangle of blankets and sheets, straightening his glasses and scrabbling out of his uncle's reach, he was unmindful of the hair he left behind in the larger man's grip. Before he could properly orient himself, a newspaper was thrust beneath his nose.
"What have you done, boy? Is this revenge? Your payback for all the years we've clothed you? Fed you?!"
"I have no bloody idea what you're on about," shouted Harry, swatting the newspaper away.
"Oh really? You had no idea that the representatives of James C. bloody Potter put a hold on his Grunnings stock? There's only ever been the one bloody Potter investing in Grunnings since the eighties! My own promotion party! Come to find out they all came to present me with this… This!"
Harry yanked the paper toward him, his eyes wide with confusion even as he answered the accusation.
"I didn't even know that my dad had anything to do with your business. I don't know anything about the stock market, either."
But as his uncle said, it was there in print, the headline emblazoned across the top of the Evening Times. Harry's eyes scanned the article in disbelief.
Grunnings Drill Company unsound
Major shareowner places hold on all sale and purchase of stock
by George Mathis
Times financial correspondent
London-based business, Grunnings Drills Incorporated, experienced a severe drop in stock prices this afternoon due to an as-of-yet unexplained freeze on all transactions by major shareholder James C. Potter.
Potter's financial executors placed the freeze his shares this morning as soon as the market opened, said account manager John Smith. The action resulted in a significant loss of confidence in the company. An immediate drop in prices for Grunnings shares entailed.
Though some investors were unable to sell their shares prior to the market close, the number of those desiring to do so far outweighs those who are willing to run the risk of keeping their stock. Expert investor Scott Cohn predicts that Grunnings may be bankrupt as of tomorrow morning.
Today also saw a mass exodus of employees from the Grunnings corporate building as word spread of the possible financial failure.
"Current management hasn't allowed the company to progress to its potential in recent years," Janice Waverly said. "We haven't seen a significant rise in stock price or sales since 1979, so this doesn't come as a surprise to me."
"Companies that hit a plateau eventually go only one of two places as far as money goes: up or down," the Grunnings ex-accountant said. "We've obviously hit the latter of the two.
"Since demand for our product remains generally the same and our competitors are likely to lower their prices with the influx of customers, I highly doubt that we will recover. And that, my friends, is why I just handed in my two-weeks notice a week earlier than I originally intended."
Several others left the company without as much security.
"I just told them I quit as soon as I heard the news and talked to the boys in finances," Geoffery Cotswold said. "I can't afford to work for someone who may not pay me at the end of the week. I have two children to feed."
Some may note that this sort of behaviour reflects strangely on the situation. Other companies, when they experience severe loss, may lose a number of employees immediately but retain the majority until matters can be assessed in full.
Most usually choose to wait on word for severance pay, news on pensions, and other contractual obligations, said human resources representative Katherine Jones. In this case, she said the reason for mass departure stems from apparent problems with management.
Another employee, who simply supplied us with "Smith," said the reactions might be premature.
"Grunnings hasn't actually lost or gained anything," he said. "The hold placed on Mr. Potter's stock is just that, a hold on his shares.
"Yes, he holds 46 percent of Grunnings stock, but [the hold] neither helps nor hurts the company itself. Mr. Potter has traditionally continued to buy stock from Grunnings. The fact that he is no longer buying but also is not selling should signal nothing but his own evaluation of his finances. Perhaps Potter is being audited.
"The problem is that the vice presidents and CEO have declared a hold on all sales of product until the issue is resolved. That is what caused this panic with the employees, not the freeze in Potter stock."
Here, Vernon pulled the paper from under Harry's nose and scowled at him with renewed anger. Harry could make out the horrible pulsing vein in his uncle's temple, and colour rose in the man's distended face once more.
"I've just been humiliated! Holding a bleeding celebration when my company goes down the drain! I've had this position all of three days and I get handed this tripe!"
Before Harry could react, Vernon's fist collided with his jaw, knocking him back against the bed frame. Harry twisted and kicked blindly as he reached toward his pillowcase, feeling for his wand. But thick fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing and wringing like Harry had never felt before.
Wand! Harry thought furiously, his right hand groping higher over the mattress as he and his uncle slid entangled to the floor against the side of the bed.
His right hand clawed at the strangling grip, black spots danced before his eyes. He could barely register as Vernon's foot connected with his legs, the hands squeezing tighter. In the background, Petunia was screaming again through a quickly growing ringing in Harry's ears.
With a mighty lurch, Harry managed to bring his knee hard into his uncle's gut, loosening the hands just enough to stretch the last inch separating his fingers from the handle of his holly and phoenix feather wand.
"Expelliarmus!" he rasped.
Horrible comprehension spread through Harry: the spell would not come.
"Expelliarmus!" he hissed again.
But Vernon had recovered. A maniacal grin spread across his lips, his moustache bristling.
"What's this? No magic?" he laughed, coughing a little as he rubbed his gut.
Vernon rose to his feet, the laugher building into a mad cackle.
"No magic! The old man wasn't lying? You can't do magic!"
A rain of blows landed on Harry's torso and left arm, which Harry had hastily raised in defence.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted again, his hand feeling hot around the cool handle of his suddenly unresponsive wand. "Protego! Fernunculus! Stupefy! Stupefy!"
Streaks of red lit up the room like fireworks as stunners fired from behind Vernon's hulking form, hitting him and his wife between the shoulders. Petunia crumpled in the doorway. Vernon collapsed half on top of Harry, who quickly kicked the hulking body away. Arthur Weasley stood in the doorway, his eyes wide in his pale, freckled face, his wand raised.
"Harry–"
Whatever Mr. Weasley had intended to say was drowned out by the crash of glass shattering throughout the house as the walls buckled and the floor lurched. Shouts sounded on the street outside. Mr. Weasley shouted for Harry through dust and falling debris as Harry unthinkingly rolled to grab his still-packed rucksack, bag and broom from beneath the bed.
Spells singed the air as Harry shot upward, barely missing a rafter as the roof caved in. His eyes scanned for Mr. Weasley and settled on a shock of red hair amongst the rubble. Weaving through the spell-fire, he flew low to drag the man from the slate and wood, barely holding onto him as he sailed over the front lawn. Tonks stood below, vainly attempting to keep the house from collapsing by casting strengthening, levitation, and feather-light charms. Over his shoulder, he could see Kingsley Shacklebolt holding his own against six deatheaters. Flames licked the barely-standing walls. Sirens shrieked in the distance.
Harry let Mr. Weasley down beside Tonks with a grunt and straightened on his broom.
"Go, Potter! Go to the Burrow!" she cried, her face intense with concentration.
Harry thrust his arm into his rucksack and pulled out his cloak, his brow furrowed. His wand wasn't working. He was useless in a fight, but perhaps he could still do something to protect the heavily outnumbered aurors and Mr. Weasley. Before Tonks could protest, he let loose a long, shrill whistle.
"Oi! Your aim's off!" he shouted toward the house, even as the effort scorched his abused windpipe.
The spell-fire cut off momentarily before redirecting toward him. With a grimace, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over his head and shot vertically into the sky, leaving the burning remains of number four far below. As he had hoped, the deatheaters followed on their own brooms, sweeping the skies and firing curses randomly as they caught a glimpse of his trainer, bag, or broomstick. Diving and rolling to throw them off, Harry hurdled north, relief rolling through him as a group of Order members apparated in the street below. Spells shot toward them, and Harry drove low to the ground to avoid the heavy fire. The deatheaters weren't as lucky.
In moments, he had left the others well behind him. Ahead of him, nothing stood in his way except the vast expanse of the evening sky. In his pocket, the DA galleon burned hot against his thigh.
The air had long since become uncomfortably cool, and the sun was on its way up again. Harry sat on a park bench near the Leaky Cauldron, watching as people passed it in complete ignorance of the world it hid. Finally, a muggle woman holding a piece of parchment and her daughter approached. The girl pointed excitedly though the woman seemed confused. Finally growing impatient, she pulled her mother forward. Harry quickly fell in behind the two as the first year pulled her mother through the muggle-repelling charms.
"Goodness me!" the woman gasped as soon as she passed the threshold.
Tom looked up from his bar and smiled toothlessly at the little girl.
"Excuse us, but we're looking for Diagon Alley," the woman finally stuttered after overcoming the shock of seeing Tom's dishrag wiping down glasses apparently of its own volition.
The innkeeper smiled and helpfully showed the woman and her daughter out the backdoor of the pub and demonstrated how to access the Alley. Harry followed behind the two, glad that, for the first time in days, things were moving in his favour.
"Be careful, Madam," Tom called after the woman, glancing warily up and down the street.
Harry's eyes widened as he took in the state of Diagon Alley.
The first thing he noticed were the vibrant purple posters plastered over every flat surface. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour had been boarded up, as well as several other once-proud shops. Only the main stores seemed to retain any business. Even so, the few people who traversed the Alley walked in hastily shuffling groups. The woman and her daughter had quickly absorbed the atmosphere and were on their way quickly to Gringotts with quick, anxious steps. Harry, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, made his way down the Alley.
He smiled as he rounded the corner, the purple and gold posters in the shop window, a facsimile of the ministry approved ones plastered elsewhere, almost made up for the desolate appearance of the rest of the alley. The animated advertisement of You-No-Poo aside, the rest of the shop window of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezies displayed even greater examples of the famous (and now lucrative) Weasley humour.
"Bloody brilliant," said Harry with a smile as he entered the shop behind a Hogwarts age boy.
Unlike the rest of the alley, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezies swam with life. Shoppers crowded around Skiving Snack Boxes, miniature displays of Whiz-Bangs, and various assorted products designed by the Messers Weasley to tickle the fancy of the young at heart. Harry wove his way through the crowd with a smile, only pausing or wincing when someone nudged one of his many injuries. Fred and George themselves stood behind the cash register, wearing matching chartreuse dragon hide blazers and false expressions of cheer to go with their purple striped suits. The combination clashed magnificently with their flaming hair. Encumbered by his broom and bags, Harry took a fair while to reach the entrenched pair. It took even longer for him to find an opportunity to slip behind the counter and tap Fred's shoulder.
"Never say you owe me anything for that prize money. This place is brilliant," said Harry quietly enough that only Fred and George heard.
They shared a look of relief before discreetly positioning themselves on either of Harry's sides.
"You know Fred-"
"I think we have a visitor."
"Indeed we do, George."
"Why don't you announce yourself-"
"Like a proper lad, Har-"
George and Fred pulled back on the invisibility cloak to reveal Harry's misshapen face and their expressions hardened. They moved as one to block Harry from view of the rest of the shop before grabbing a shoulder each and pushing him behind the curtain and into the back room.
"Verity, mind the register," Fred started,
"And don't come back here until we say," George continued,
"Or it'll be your job!" they finished in unison.
Harry grimaced as the two forcefully pushed him onto a stool. He winced as he shrugged off the cloak completely and tucked it into his school bag, dropping his luggage to the floor.
"You look like you went awry of the whomping willow."
"What in hell happened, Harry?"
"They told us you'd been attacked-"
"But dad said you saved him and Tonks-"
"Though the ruddy muggle got a hold of you-"
"Even before the deatheaters showed up."
"Does anyone know you've come here?"
"Mum is going to murder us if she finds out you're in this state before-"
"Look, I'll explain everything but for now can I get something to drink and do either of you know healing spells?" Harry said, cutting Fred off in exasperation. The twins shared a glance and rolled their eyes.
"Do we know any healing spells, he says."
"Who does he think we are?"
"Obviously we've never needed to heal ourselves after experimentation, George."
"Never, Fred."
They finally turned to Harry with a wry smile.
"Nothing too much for bruises," said Fred
"But we know good ones for cuts, burns, and breaks," said George
"Though neither of us is as good as Mum," they finished together. Harry rolled his eyes and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the damage beneath.
"A couple of my ribs are fractured. Everything else is just bruised," he said matter-of-factly, not meeting his friends' eyes. Unseen by Harry, the twins shared a worried glance and cast a diagnostic charm simultaneously. Their faces settled into identical expressions of anger as Harry looked up.
"What happened?" they said together.
"Like you said. Uncle had a go at me. Magic wouldn't work," Harry supplied moodily.
"And you half died-"
"By the looks of it," Fred grumbled as he cast a spell.
Harry hissed as he felt his damaged ribs fuse together. The pain faded and Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief. Fred continued muttering several more incantations as George rummaged through a drawer and produced several bottles. He thrust them at Harry with instructions to swallow a mouthful of each as Fred finished fixing Harry's ribs and a badly chipped tooth. Harry grimaced as the potions burned his throat, but was happy to find that most of his pains had faded into a dull ache with their help. Finally, the two thrust a jar of bruise-remover paste into Harry's hand.
"For everything else," Fred said.
"Now what are you doing in our shop-"
"Looking like something Crookshanks dragged in?" They demanded, their arms crossing over their chests at the same moment.
If the matter were not so serious, Harry would have been sorely tempted to laugh.
"I'm meeting Hermione tomorrow at Gringotts," Harry said, holding up the DA galleon. "Sirius sent me a letter about something I need to take care of. As to why here, in this shop, I need a place to stay that I can leave without an Auror or Order member tailing me."
"You do know we're in the Order, Harry."
"And you also haven't answered the other part of our question," said Fred.
"What do you think?" Harry spat. "Last week I had an argument with my Uncle. I tried to leave. I was going to head to Hemione's, but Dumbledore stopped me and did something to my magic. It's his fault whatever happened did, and I don't want anything to do with him or the Order until further notice."
He paused, breathing deeply to moderate his volume.
"Look, I'd really appreciate a place to sleep for a while if that's okay. If not I'm going to have to wait inside Gringotts. I don't need a minder, and I don't want anyone else besides you two and Hermione knowing my business right now, right?" he finished, searching the twins' faces.
Fred and George nodded solemnly and tapped on a nondescript portion of the wall. A doorway swung open to reveal a flight of stairs.
"Flat's up there. You can use either bed."
"G'night, Harry."
"Thanks, guys," said Harry in relief as he shouldered his luggage and made his way up the stairs.
The twins' flat held little else aside from two narrow beds, a sofa, two small dressers, and a kitchenette. A modest brick fireplace and mantle was centred in the east wall. Harry dropped his things beside the bed and fell back onto one of the twins' beds. His head had not yet hit the pillow when he succumbed to exhaustion.
The smell of eggs and bacon pulled Harry gently from the realms of sleep. He groped blindly for his glasses for a moment, before realizing that dresser stood to the left of the bed. His spectacles in place, Harry looked blurrily around the room for a moment, feeling unusually groggy for waking.
"Good morning sleeping ugly," said Fred cheerily from the kitchenette.
"About time you woke up."
"We were worried you'd sleep through your rendezvous with Hermione."
"You have been sleeping for nearly twenty hours," George concluded as he conjured a small table between the two beds.
He and Fred sat opposite Harry, placing a plate of bacon, eggs and toast, and a glass of pumpkin juice before Harry. Harry sat up and grinned appreciatively at the meal.
"Thanks," he said before tucking into the steaming hot food.
"You're welcome," the twins said together, watching Harry carefully.
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, which struck Harry as odd as it came to the twins. Perhaps this was how they were when no one else was around to expect otherwise.
As soon as Harry thought it, Fred broke the silence.
"Harry,"
"We're not going to ask what you're up to,"
"Although we'd sorely love to know,"
"And shall probably pester you later,"
"Because we've concluded you've earned the right to do what you want,"
"Considering the attack, and what you said about your magic not working,"
"And that you saved Dad,"
"And that Dumbledore happened to admit to binding your magic in an emergency meeting last night-"
"To much uproar I might add-"
"So let us know what you need and you've got it," concluded Fred.
Harry grimaced and clapped both men on the shoulder.
"Thanks. I appreciate it. I really don't know what's going on right now, but I intend to find out." Harry's face darkened momentarily. "On another subject, what time is it? I need to meet Hermione at noon."
"You've time. It's only ten. I suggest a shower though," said George.
"And if you're on important business with Gringotts, you'd do better in robes than those," said Fred.
They both wrinkled their noses as if in disgust at Harry's torn and bloodied jeans, and Harry laughed.
"Thanks," he managed.
"It's the door on the right," George said, following his twin to the stairs, "The other would have bitten you."
"What's in there?"
"This and that," said Fred cryptically.
Harry happily made use of the door on the right and was delighted to find an expanded bathroom with sizable shower, toilet, sink, and all the accoutrements inside. He went about his business, glad to feel clean and full, before dressing. He extracted a black robe from his rucksack, along with a pair of trousers and a shirt. Frowning at the wrinkled material, Harry quickly cast a low-power steam charm and proceeded to shake his clothes out as vigorously as possible. He had to recast the charm several times, but after the fifth attempt, Harry was satisfied that the robe, especially, showed little evidence of being stuffed haphazardly into his bag. He cast a quick severing charm at the Gryffindor patch – the robe was too short at the ankle, anyway – and threw the robe on over his muggle wear.
Dressed, fed, showered, and shaved, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak over himself and made his way down the stairs and into the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezies back room. With his attention no longer devoted to pain, Harry took the time to look at the innumerable products in boxes lining the shelves. He was pleased and impressed to find that over half of the items in the back room seemed to serve defence-oriented purposes. Shield Hats, Cloaks, and Scarves purposed to block a full range of commonly used jinxes and curses, while Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder promised the user five full minutes of darkness impenetrable by wand or flame. Harry made a mental note to ask the twins about buying a box of the decoy detonators as he made his way past the curtain and behind the cash register. He paused behind Fred and gave his shoulder blade a tap to get his attention.
"I'm going. I don't know when I'll be back."
George smiled and assisted a girl at the register as Fred turned as if to pull a product from the shelf, his lips barely moving as he answered Harry.
"Dung's posted outside dressed as a Hag. Moody's staking out old headquarters in case you head there. Dumbles was around, too," he breathed, managing a significant glance in Harry's general direction before turning back to the register.
Harry whispered a near silent "thanks" before following George's young customer and her older brother through the somewhat smaller Monday morning crowd and out the door.
The alley, to Harry's dismay, appeared just as dour as the day before. He had hoped that his own state of mind and physical discomfort had coloured his impression of the place, but was severely disappointed. In previous years, the first week of July was often marked by new and returning Hogwarts students swarming the Alley, but it was a changed street that Harry traversed as he made his way to the crooked marble edifice that was Gringotts. Harry passed perhaps three small groups of people and noted with more sadness and foreboding the number of shops that had been boarded up indefinitely.
The goblin sentries at the front steps stiffened with his approach when Harry finally reached them. Wary of the gleaming axes they held, he halted and whispered, hoping that goblin hearing was as sensitive as Hermione had said during one of her many tangents.
"My name is Harry Potter, and I am being followed and watched. I want to conduct my business without anyone else being aware. May I pass?" he stated carefully.
The guards seemed to relax and Harry took that as permission to move on. Once he was past the front doors, Harry removed his cloak and continued through the other gates into Gringotts proper.
The cavernous chamber, with its many telling stations and raised counters, gave Harry a small feeling of comfort. Gringotts was his introduction to the Magical system, and the presence of armed guards reassured him that the goblins, at least, had an idea about how to deal with intruders and dark wizards. Harry looked up at the massive clock face on the far wall and settled down to wait for Hermione.
At a quarter 'till noon, his patience was rewarded with the sensation of warm arms wrapping themselves forcefully around Harry's neck. Hermione squeezed Harry as if she had not seen him in years, and he could not help but smile into her brown hair.
"Harry!" she squealed, her eyes wide. "I've been mad with worry! Professor Dumbledore showed up at my house yesterday telling me Deatheaters attacked you. And your note-"
"I'm fine, Hermione. You didn't tell him did you?"
"Of course not, especially after how he treated you last term."
Harry smiled at her expression of indignation and pulled Sirius' ruined letter from his pocket. She took a look at the obviously abused parchment and frowned, her hand disappearing into the pocket of her skirt instinctively.
"I'd put it to rights," she began, "but I'm told you're not allowed to draw a wand in Gringotts. What was it?"
Harry smiled at her expression, knowing that the mystery must be frustrating his friend to no end.
"A letter from Sirius," answered Harry softly. "He said, if I wanted to know the truth, I should come here and see the goblins. He implied I shouldn't tell anyone except you."
Across from him, Hermione's frown deepened and she drew her lower lip between her teeth.
"That's why 'Ron can't make it'?" she asked, her eyebrows drawing together as Harry took her elbow and led the way to a teller. "Do you think-" she said suddenly, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Before she could finish her thought, Harry had addressed the goblin.
"I received a letter from Sirius Black. I think it concerns my inheritance," said Harry with more confidence than he felt at conversing with the somewhat intimidating being.
Hermione shot him a questioning look but otherwise said nothing.
"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Follow me, please."
The goblin swung gracefully down from his seat and led them away from the tellers' stations and past a gleaming golden gate. Here, the hallway seemed to slope downward, while the ceiling appeared to stretch infinitely upward into darkness. Hermione pressed a little closer to Harry as the temperature dropped with their descent.
After several minutes of walking past gleaming wall-mounted weaponry and sentries interspersed between the displays, the teller, who Harry belatedly recognized as Griphook, ran a clawed finger over a stretch of wall. A golden line spread from the goblin's touch and bloomed into a glowing outline of a door. When the light faded, a carved, mahogany depiction of the last goblin war was revealed. The arched door cracked open silently and swung inward. Griphook entered first, and bowed to the wizened goblin behind an equally magnificent and ancient-looking desk.
"Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger, Director Ragnok," Griphook announced, withdrawing almost as soon as he finished speaking.
Director Ragnok gave a grunt of acknowledgement before addressing the two teens.
"I am very glad you have come, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. Do sit." the goblin director said in a low, gravelly growl.
Once Hermione and Harry had taken the two comfortable chairs before the grand desk, he began again.
"Lord Black was a highly valued customer during his lifetime. Against wizard advisory, he chose to elect Gringotts as the executor of his affairs, which is why you received the letter you hold in your pocket. If you take a seat, we shall begin the private reading of the will. After this meeting, I will have fulfilled my legal obligations to your godfather and may begin serving you, Mr. Potter," explained Ragnok in the same slow tone.
Harry sat straighter and leaned forward as Ragnok produced an official-looking roll of parchment. Harry immediately recognized the Black family seal when it reflected the dim torchlight of the office.
Ragnok cleared his throat and began to read as soon as the seal was broken. The parchment unfurled and Harry and Hermione watched in fascination as the words glowed gold with their verbalization.
"I, Lord Sirius Orion Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, in sound mind and body hereby revoke all former wills and testamentary dispositions made by me and declare this to be my last will and testament.
"In the event of my death I renounce Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and appoint Gringotts Director Ragnok as executor of my titles, properties, and all worldly possessions. Having no sons or wife, and disowning all others entailed to the Black line, I name my godson, Harry James Potter, as heir apparent to the Black family title, estates, and all the duties, privileges, monies, and properties therein.
"Concerning my relatives, I declare the following. Andromeda Tonks nee Black is to be reinstated in the Black family. I bequeath the full amount of her dowry to her, as well as the standard allowance of 500 galleons monthly.
"Madam Narcissa Malfoy nee Black is hereby required to present herself to Gringotts Director Ragnok or a delegate of his choosing. If she bears the mark of Voldemort, she is hereby disinherited for breaking the Black family oath of fealty. Her Black accounts are to be reclaimed and her dowry and allowance must be repaid in full. Any Black family heirlooms or objects listed in the Black Family Register of Assets will be reclaimed. In the event that she and her husband cannot reimburse the amounts in total, her properties, investments, holds, and possessions are to be evaluated and seized for the differences as Gringotts policy stipulates. For its services in such an event, Gringotts may claim 15% of the value of total seizures in addition to their standard fee of 5%.
"Lady Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, having been charged and tried as a deatheater of the false Lord Voldemort, is hereby disinherited for breaking the Black family oath of fealty. Her accounts are to be reclaimed and her dowry and allowance must be repaid in full. Any Black family heirlooms or objects listed in the Black Family Register of Assets will be reclaimed. In the event that she and her husband cannot reimburse the amounts in total, her properties, investments, holds and possessions are to be evaluated and seized for the differences by Director Ragnok, as Gringotts policy stipulates. For its services in such an event, Gringotts may claim further fees as stipulated above.
"Draco Malfoy, as heir apparent to the Malfoy title, lands, and properties therein, is hereby disinherited as he failed to swear the Black family oath of fealty by his fifteenth birthday."
Here, Director Ragnok paused as Harry regained his composure. When Bellatrix's name had been spoken, Harry's fists had clenched on the arms of his seat, he swooned dangerously in his seat. Hermione sat with her arms around her best friend, silently crying into his shoulder for his pain and for her own.
"Mr. Potter, do you feel well?" asked Ragnok with a grim frown. "I do not take you for a fainter."
"I feel off… I feel like I would before a bout of accidental magic, but Dumbledore did something to my magic, so I'm not sure what-"
"He did what?" the goblin's voice thundered, echoing through the chamber.
Hermione winced in her seat as the doors slammed open and Griphook entered, flanked by two heavily armed guards.
"Go away, we're in closed chambers!" the Director shouted, waving his gnarled fingers.
The door slammed back shut, pushing out the intruders. The goblin turned his steely gaze back on the humans before him.
"You will be able to break the seal one of two ways, but I shall explain later. Shall I continue, Mr. Potter?" asked Ragnok, still clearly displeased.
Harry took a deep breath and nodded his consent. The goblin continued:
"In addition to the above, I formally renounce my alliance with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Having broken his promises to my house, I renounce his place as secret keeper to my properties. I hereby bequeath that responsibility to my godson, Harry James Potter.
"Furthermore, I renounce my financial support of 1,000 galleons monthly to the Ministry of Magic. These funds are to be appropriated hereafter to St. Mungo's department for long-term spell damage.
"To Remus John Lupin, I leave an allowance of 900 galleons monthly. In addition to that amount, I bequeath my studio flat at Melbourne Grove, East Dulwich, SE22 in the hopes that he may finally live a comfortable life.
"To Arthur Weasley, I leave my collection of vinyl records, the accompanying player, and a gift certificate of £500 to Harrods of London in hopes that he may share his love of all things muggle with Mrs. Weasley in an atmosphere of which she will most definitely approve. I also leave him a gift card of £150 to Tesco stores. I trust Hermione to explain the cards' use and the difference between the two establishments. To Molly Weasley, I leave the Locquirec cottage, at Finistere 29, Brittany in France. It is my hope that she accepts this gift to serve as a safe haven during the coming war. To them both, I leave a gift of gratitude of 10,000 galleons in thanks for providing a loving home to Harry when I could not.
"To Messers Fred and George Weasley, I leave 15,000 galleons to use as they wish in the advancement of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezies and their more serious research. I also bequeath to them my collection of muggle posters and magazines.
"To the future Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley, I leave 1,000 galleons each, and access to the Ancestral House of Black elves for help in orchestrating their beautiful matrimony.
"To Charlie and Ginerva Molly Weasley, I leave 100 galleons each.
"To Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave the following books: Collective Theories and Concepts by Maxwell Greene, The Green Book by the Irish Republican Army, The Art of War by Machiavelli, and Battle Studies by Ardant du Picq, The Book of Five Rings by Musashi Miyamoto, and The Art of War by Sun Tzu. It is my fervent wish that his apparent skill in strategy should be further applied to help my godson in the very near future. I am under no illusions about what is to come. I also leave him 500 galleons in his own Gringotts secure account.
"To Hermione Granger, I leave copies of the above books in case suspicion leads to knowledge and we are left without a natural tactician. I also leave her access to the Black Family Libraries at the Ancestral House of Black with a warning: there is a restricted section within this library that I have warded and partitioned for great reason. The books concealed there either hold or are imbued with dark magic that can and will harm those who read their pages. All other books have been left to her use. I also leave her 500 galleons in her own Gringotts secure account.
"Finally, in the event that any of the above named are declared enemy to the Heir Apparent and Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, all inheritances or their exact values are to be reclaimed or reimbursed. In addition, all stolen items, heirlooms, titles, and properties under Black ownership are hereby recalled to the Black Family vault.
"In witness thereof I have hereunto set my hand this second of May 1996. Signed by Lord Sirius Orion Black in our joint presence and by us in his presence, Sirius Orion Black, Remus John Lupin, Madam Amelia Bones, and Lady Augusta Longbottom."
With the final syllable, the document's words glowed brighter and more vividly than ever, nearly blinding in its intensity. Ragnok squinted his sensitive eyes and held his hand out for Harry to take. Harry, with Hermione's urging, grasped the goblin's rough palm.
"Do you, Harry James Potter, accept your status as Heir Apparent to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and assume all the titles, properties, duties, and privileges associated with that title?"
Harry looked at Hermione questioningly as the words glowed brighter on the parchment. She bit her lip as she examined Harry's face. By her expression, Harry could see that she was contemplating the words they had heard and the implications of each. He had heard but had not absorbed everything, so he trusted Hermione's interpretation far more than his own. She slowly and deliberately nodded and Ragnok squeezed his hand tighter. Clearing his suddenly scratchy throat, Harry turned back to the goblin.
"I accept."
At his words, the glowing light leapt from the parchment and intensified, forming a band of gold. The light, so bright that Harry shielded his eyes with his left hand, wove around Harry's arm and burned hot on his right fingers. Hermione gasped and the light dissipated so swiftly it was as if it had never entered the shadowy chamber.
"It's the Black Family Seal," Hermione whispered to her stunned friend as he stared at his right hand.
"That ring signifies your status as Lord Black," Ragnok clarified.
"I had some questions about that, actually," Harry said after recovering from his disbelief and surprise.
He sat back beside Hermione and Ragnok mirrored his actions. Hermione squirmed beside Harry, apparently excited, and Ragnok's harsh lips stretched into an unnerving grin.
"Before you ask these questions, we have more business to attend to," the goblin said with the same grin.
"By accepting your title, Lord Black, you have legally reached your majority. This means that the ministerial trace on your wand is broken. It also means that the Potter will is now unsealed. That being said, it has come to my attention that no one performed an heir test on you when you first visited Gringotts, is that correct?"
"No, I don't think so. I was just asked for my key and Hagrid gave it over to Mr. Griphook," Harry said slowly after thinking for a moment. He remembered the day vividly, but wanted to be sure.
"Indeed? This is not standard Gringotts procedure," Ragnok said with a positively ferocious expression.
Hermione recoiled into Harry's side and Harry smiled a little nervously down at her in reassurance. Ragnok gave a somewhat grinding guffaw at the girl's reaction before continuing.
"The first time one enters Gringotts it is standard procedure to undergo an Heir test to ensure that you are not the owner of any previously opened accounts. I assume that Mr. Hagrid bypassed this by presenting your key before it could happen. The other business he carried out may have also caused the mismanagement, but either way… Please give me your hand," said Ragnok with a much put-upon expression as he withdrew a white marble tablet from his desk drawer.
Harry held his palm out for the goblin, who merely lanced one of Harry's fingertips and pressed it to a cold white stone. The Director allowed Harry to withdraw and they all watched patiently as the droplet soaked slowly into the unpolished marble.
Soon enough, scarlet bled through the surface and curled into letters, then words. Hermione gasped as she and Harry watched in wonderment.
"This is my family tree?" Harry asked, his fingers brushing just beneath his own name at the bottom of the plaque. Hermione examined its surface, entranced as she mumbled the names aloud.
"Sir Ignotus Peverell married to Lady Beatrice Gryffindor. Children: Corrine and Zachary. Lord Zachary Peverell married to Catherine Prewett. Lady Corinne Peverell married to Lord Bennet Potter. Children: Ezekiel Potter. Lord Ezekiel Potter married to Josephine Bones. Children: Joseph, Marcus and Joan. Lord Joseph Potter married to Aria Gaunt. Children: Rexana, Charlus, and Julian. Lord Charlus Potter married to Elladora Black. Children: James Charlus Potter. Lord James Charlus Potter married to Lily Evans. Children: Harry James Potter. Lord Harry James Potter," Hermione look in awe at her friend. "Harry, this goes back… I don't even know how many years. I've never heard of Beatrice Gryffindor."
"That would be the four times great granddaughter of Lord Godric Gryffindor. This tree begins in the late twelfth century. Time was not well documented," said Ragnok dismissively. "Now that we have established your line of inheritance, you will receive both your parents wills as well as an accounting of your vaults. I was asked, once we finished this process, to make sure you visited the vault of the late Lord Black."
"Thank you, Director. That sounds great," Harry said after a moment, still stunned at the slab of marble, amazed at the line of people that were blood relations to him. He finally looked up at the goblin with longing in his eyes.
"Is there any way I could get a copy of this on parchment?" he asked, a strangled quality to his voice. Hermione squeezed his hand.
"Of course, Lord Potter. The fee for a transcription is a mere four sickles. For a self-updating copy the fee is three galleons."
"A self-updating copy, please," answered Harry quickly as he dug through his pocket, frowning as he felt for his moneybag and found nothing. "Er…"
"If you are searching for your purse, Lord Potter, it has been recalled to your vault. Those with your net value are given special access to their vaults via credit, blood and magically keyed items," Ragnok explained.
He held out handsome wide, black, dragon hide wallet. Harry took it in obvious confusion, opening it. His eyes widened as he flipped through the wallet's folds and buttoned coin pocket.
The main folds held an indefinite number of pounds, and the coin pocket, though seemingly empty when closed, held more galleons than could logically fit inside. He reached into the compartment experimentally and was delighted to find that the perhaps-five-inch-wide fold engulfed not only his hand, but also his entire forearm with ease.
"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, smiling appreciatively at Ragnok before drawing out three galleons.
The goblin nodded in satisfaction.
"If you'll notice, there is also a card usable for muggle transactions. It will directly draw funds from Gringotts. The same goes for items you may wish to purchase in a wizard shop. If anyone other than you attempts to draw funds with either the wallet or your card should you misplace it, they will automatically return to your possession. You may also recall it by asking for it."
"That is amazing," Hermione whispered.
Harry happily handed the wallet to her to examine. She amused herself for a moment by flipping through the now apparently empty wallet while Ragnok stood. The door behind Harry and Hermione immediately opened to reveal Griphook, who once again bowed to his superior.
"Please take Lord Potter and Miss Granger to the Black family vault," Ragnok instructed, before turning back to his guests. "Your parents' wills are below. As soon as the complete results of your heir test is completed, I will owl for an appointment to manage any remaining affairs."
Hermione quickly grasped Harry's elbow as he bid farewell and thanks to the director and followed Griphook out of the office.
The ride to down to vault twenty-four was exhilarating, but even Harry found that after the first ten minutes, he felt somewhat dizzy. Hermione had attached herself firmly to Harry's arm by the time they reached the Black Family vault. Unlike with the case of Harry's vault or that of Nicholas Flamel, the Black Family vault's door rose infinitely upward into the stalactite-hung ceiling. The doors, apparently constructed of some type of metal (though neither Harry nor Hermione recognized it by sight) were boldly emblazoned with the Black Family crest. Their motto, "Toujours Pur" stood out in shining contrast against the dull, blackened metal. A smaller version of the crest stood superimposed at waist-height in the centre of the magnificent door. Griphook addressed this smaller seal when he stepped from the cart.
"Stand back, please," the goblin muttered gruffly as he slid his fingertip over the saucer-sized crest. A glowing gold outline spread from the bottom point of the crest and spread outward until the entire shield was highlighted against its dark metal background. Harry and Hermione watched with open curiosity as it swung silently sideways and revealed an opening large enough for a man to fit his fist.
"Present your seal, Lord Potter," Griphook instructed, inclining his head toward the hole.
Harry and Hermione shared a nervous glance as he stepped forward, unsure of what he was supposed to do.
Griphook, giving the young wizard as scathing a look as he could manage, grasped Harry's wrist somewhat roughly and assisted him in thrusting his ringed hand into the hole. Harry's eyes widened and his lips pressed together as if in an effort to withhold a rude word.
"Is it supposed to bite me?" Harry asked the Goblin, feeling less assured than before of his safety as he tried to withdraw his arm.
A strange tugging sensation came from the other end. Without thinking, he reached for Hermione before he was drawn fist-first into the vault. Behind him, Hermione screamed as she too was drawn in. Her shriek cut off as a million floating candles lit with a great whoosh throughout the vast chamber.
"Oh my… Harry!" Hermione gasped, her brown eyes wide with wonder.
The Black Family vault more closely resembled a vast library rather than a bank vault. Great chests emblazoned with the Black Family crest stood open against both walls, filled to the brim with shining galleons, sickles, or knuts. Vast, luxurious rugs carpeted the rough stone floor while case upon case of books, relics, and heirlooms stretched endlessly before the two teenagers.
Harry and Hermione walked hand-in-hand to the centre of the chamber, immediately drawn to a great marble podium. It was designed almost like a great basin with a small island in the centre. Perched on top, depicted as young and happy as Harry had ever saw him, stood a bust of Sirius Black. Harry traced his godfather's features, his throat dry and his eyes stinging uncomfortably as he beheld the portrayal.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered so quietly Hermione only just managed to hear him.
He closed his eyes against a wave of emotion. He and Hermione stood in silence for a moment: Harry in his private grief, she suffering for her friend.
"Harry, look," Hermione gasped suddenly, pulling hard on Harry's hand. He snapped his head up immediately and stared in open surprise and awe at the bust. The closed eyes of the marble bust had opened, and silvery tears slid over its façade and into the basin below.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, drawing her wand as she leaned over the pooling, silvery substance. Harry joined her, his lips curling into a frown as he watched the swirling silver. As more pooled, he could make out individual strands.
"Memories."
"Do you think this is what Sirius wanted you to have?" asked Hermione, her voice elevating in pitch with her excitement.
"Yeah, but it won't do me any good. I don't have a pensieve," Harry muttered in frustration, drawing his own wand and poking through the strands. The basin itself was just a container, it seemed. If it had been a pensieve he would have been drawn in already.
"And you can't exactly order one by owl… They're extremely expensive and hand-made by Rune masters," Hermione said with a frown. "You have to have a license to purchase one because of their potential for abuse."
"Yeah," Harry sighed, running a hand in frustration through his mussed hair. "I suppose we'll just have to bottle everything and figure it out later," he concluded, striding to the nearest cabinet in search of vials.
Hermione stopped him with a yank on his robes, her eyes bright with possibilities.
"What about the wallet? I assume you can access the gold here. It must have a transmission point."
"Mr. Griphook?" Harry called.
The goblin entered once allowed by the summons, bowing jerkily.
"Is there some way I can pull things from my vault from my wallet?"
"If you note which items you want access to, I will arrange it."
"I'd appreciate it," he smiled. "How do I indicate..?"
"Make a note on the tablet by the door, and I will see it done."
Hermione grinned, gratified in her right guess.
"At least we won't have to worry about losing or breaking the vials, now. There may be a pensieve in one of your entailments. You should probably find a ledger."
Harry nodded, continuing his pursuit of the memories still pooling around Sirius' bust. He siphoned them into vials (he found a polished wooden box nearby full of them) and stoppered them carefully. After a moment, Hermione began helping until nearly all the vials in the box were full, and the basin stood empty. The eyes of Sirius' bust closed and the entire podium, bust, basin, and all, simply faded from existence.
Both teens stared for a moment, placing the box in the empty space.
"Doesn't this strike you as a little… Well-done for Sirius?" asked Hermione with a cautious glance toward Harry.
Harry sat on one of the many thick rugs, twisting the braided fibres at his hip.
"I don't know," he admitted. "He was always the first to tell me that he wasn't the brain in the Marauders, but really all of them were bloody brilliant." Harry did not need to specify the statement excluded Wormtail.
"And, I think, considering how Sirius grew up he may have known a lot more than we gave him credit for. If all of this is a result of Sirius' last actions… Maybe this is about right," he finished lamely.
"What are we going to do?" whispered Hermione after another long moment of silence.
"I'm not sure. We need that ledger, like you said. We need to view these memories… And I'm not going back to Hogwarts until I know whatever Sirius wanted me to. I can't trust Dumbledore right now as far as I can throw him."
"But it's sixth year, Harry. And as much as I'm angry at him, he's always tried to act in your interests," Hermione protested, trying to dismiss the idea.
Harry snorted, allowing let her think about what she just said for a moment before the both of them burst into laughter. Hermione elbowed Harry's ribs playfully, a blush spreading over her cheeks.
"I suppose that's not exactly true anymore. But we'll figure something out long before term starts. What would I do with only Ron for a friend?"
"We'll work it out. I could go to Beauxbatons. Didn't you say sometime in fourth year I should 'expand my horizons'?"
"I'd go with you, you know," Hermione said quietly.
"I'm sure we'll find a pensieve one way or another. I am a Lord now, right? And I can't leave you lot alone, now, can I?" Harry responded playfully. "What would you do without the chosen-boy-who-pooed-his-nappy-at-the-ugliest-dark lord-to-have-ever-lived? …Or whatever shite they're calling me now."
Hermione shoved Harry's shoulder in mock-anger as he grinned irreverently.
It was with smiles on their faces that Harry and Hermione exited vault twenty-four, leaving behind the suddenly growing piles of galleons and rows of heirlooms. Neither noticed as a heavy gold locket and a gleaming cup also popped into existence on top of one of the chests.
