Hello again.
This isn't the chapter I had planned. It's happening a lot. It sort of… wrote itself. So here is the chapter I didn't intend to write. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think – reviews help us grow as writers.
Also, check out Real Life Sucks by Cheezels.
Chapter 3 – A Lesson in Family History
Harry seemed slightly surprised when Hermione pulled him aside.
"Harry," Hermione began kindly. "You're not a girl."
Harry looked confused. "Thank you?"
"So it's entirely possible you don't realise what an idiot you're being." He opened his mouth to protest, but she talked over him. "I know you think you're being kind to Ginny by giving her space, but the poor girl is an emotional wreck. You can't just propose in the middle of a battle and then say nothing for a month."
Harry opened his mouth again. Hermione ignored it. "Yes, I know her brother just died. No, she doesn't blame you. Yes, she still wants to marry you. No, it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment, change your mind later thing. Yes, she's upset with you for not mentioning it again. No, not upset enough to say no. Yes, you actually have to propose again, and by the way, I would recommend doing it with an actual ring this time. No, she's not going to make you beg, but I think it's traditional for you be down on one knee anyway."
Harry looked slightly shell-shocked. Hermione thought for a second. "Did you actually get down on one knee the first time?"
Harry shook his head mutely.
"Ah. There's your problem. Honestly, if you want it to stick…" Harry just blinked at her. She rolled her eyes. "Honestly. People these days. No sense of humour. I love Ginny. She's like a sister to me. She is a sister to Ron. I would expect four big brother speeches coming your way. Five, if George manages to get out of his room in time." She thought for a moment. "Is there anything I've missed?"
Harry looked at her for a moment. "Hermione, you're a girl right?"
"Yes," she said in a tone of voice that said 'just where the hell do you think you're going with this?'
"So… you know what girls like," he trailed off, as if expecting her to understand.
"I'm good, Harry, but I'm not a mind-reader. I walked out of Divination, remember?"
"Well… I just… Idon'thavearingyetsoIwashopingyoucouldhelpmefindon e." Harry blurted out.
"Gesundheit?" Hermione smiled kindly at him.
"I don't have a ring yet, so I was hoping you could help me find one," he said more slowly.
"I would love to," Hermione beamed, giving him a hug. "You didn't have any plans for today, did you?"
"Well…" Harry gestured outside, where the Weasleys were preparing for a game of Quidditch.
"I didn't think so," Hermione pulled out a mobile phone. "Just let me make some calls."
… A Road Less Travelled …
Harry was beginning to doubt the brilliance of the plan. They'd been to three shops so far, and Hermione had insisted on looking at everything. Even worse, he'd yet to see anything he thought Ginny might like.
All the shop assistants were so eager and expectant, and he really hated to disappoint them, but none of their rings worked.
They'd started off in Diagon Alley, but just as Hermione had assured him, there was nothing there. Oh, there were pretty bracelets and necklaces, but none of their rings even came close to what he wanted for Ginny.
That was the other problem. He had no idea what he wanted Ginny, other than the fact that he'd know it when he saw it.
Hermione had assured him he needed to get back to his roots, and had taken him to Muggle London. He'd been looking at his roots for the past four hours, and was having just as much success as he'd had in Wizarding London.
She was saying it again. "You just need to get back to your roots, Harry. I'm sure you'll find the perfect ring when you get back to your roots."
"I'm at my roots, and it's working about as well as looking at my leaves did," he grumbled as she pushed open the door to the next shop.
"Hello," Hermione smiled at the shop assistant. "We're looking for an engagement ring."
The girl was really excited. "Oh, that's so sweet. How long have you been dating? How did you get together? Was it really romantic? I bet it was, you two make such a cute couple. When's the big day?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. "Actually, she's not my girlfriend," he broke into the girl's gushing. She blinked.
"Actually, I'm the best friend," Hermione smiled apologetically. "I'm here to make sure he doesn't get anything… gaudy." She turned to Harry. "Is 'gaudy' the word I'm looking for?"
"I think that's the word you used," he replied evenly.
The girl turned pink. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Well, congratulations anyway," she smiled awkwardly at Harry. "Did you have anything in mind?"
Twenty minutes later, Harry heaved a sigh of relief as they stepped out of the shop. They were still empty-handed, but at least they were out.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said, rubbing her temples. "I really thought it would help going back to your roots."
Harry interrupted her. "No, it's okay. Besides, I've got an idea."
He steered them into a side alley and grabbed Hermione's hand before Disapparating.
They reappeared in Diagon Alley, on the steps of Gringotts. Hermione turned to him.
"But Harry, we've already looked here!"
"Not here we haven't," Harry said, walking inside. Speechless, she followed him up to one of the counters. The goblin peered distrustfully at them.
"I'd like to access Vault 1173," Harry said firmly.
"Key?" The goblin asked.
Harry shrugged. "It's with the vault manager." He rummaged through his pockets and withdrew a slightly crumpled envelope, which he presented to the goblin. The goblin opened it and produced a very thick wad of papers. "Last page," Harry supplied helpfully. With a glare, the goblin turned to the last page. Whatever he saw there apparently convinced him.
"Very well. Follow me," the goblin commanded, leading them through the building to a small counter tucked into the corner.
The goblin behind it looked up at the intrusion. He was handed the envelope without a word.
"Vault 1173? That's a very old vault. Who wants to get inside?"
"That would be me," Harry said. The goblin glanced at him.
"Wand?" Harry pulled it out of his pocket and watched as it was placed onto a strange set of scales. A few seconds later there was a 'ding' and a small slip of paper slid out of nowhere. The goblin peered at it.
"Very well, Mr Potter. Just a moment." The goblin turned and disappeared down a corridor lined with tiny wooden drawers.
Harry caught sight of Hermione's bewildered expression. "It's the Potter family vault," he explained. "I only found out about it a few days ago."
"But you came of age a year ago," Hermione protested confused.
"Well, we were on the run all last year. Apparently they've been trying to contact me since Bill and Fleur's wedding, but I fell off the grid." He grinned at her. She sighed.
"Funny."
Harry's explanation was cut short by the arrival of the goblin, holding a small tarnished key. "There are a few… formalities we must follow, Mr Potter. Not that anyone doubts your identity, but we are legally required…"
Harry nodded and shrugged.
Ten minutes later he was soaking wet, and his hand ached as he followed the goblin back to where Hermione was waiting. She burst out laughing at the sight of him.
"What happened to you?" she asked between giggles. "The waterfall of 'Oh-my-gosh-I'm-no-longer-Bellatrix'?"
He nodded. "The waterfall of 'Oh-my-gosh-you're-no-longer-Bellatrix.' And a whole lot of signing."
"So," Hermione began as they followed the goblin to one of the carts. "The Potter family vault? I thought your vault was the Potter vault?"
Harry shrugged. "Turns out the one I've been using is just a trust vault my parents set up. So there's my vault, my parents' vault and the vault of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter."
"Pretentious, much?"
"What can I say?" Harry grinned. "We're old money."
The vault of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter was a very long way underground, so it was a rather long time later that the cart stopped. Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Hermione watched, amused.
"You alright?"
"I feel like I'm… I dunno, about to face my grandparents." He whirled to her, suddenly terrified. "What if they've got portraits in there? What if I actually to face my grandparents?"
She laughed. "You faced Voldemort on your own, but you're scared of your grandparents?"
He shrugged uncomfortably. "Well I've never met them before, have I? What if they don't like me?"
"You'd never met Voldemort before, and he definitely didn't like you," she laughed.
"You're not helping, Hermione!"
"Harry, it doesn't matter if they like you or not. They're oil and canvas. Your real grandparents died years ago. Besides, there's nothing they can do about it. You're the heir to the Most Noble and Pretentious House of Potter."
He seemed to consider that for a second. "Fair point. I hadn't actually thought of that." After all, Mrs Black's portrait screamed and Sirius still inherited the house.
The goblin handed Harry the key and he opened the door to the vault.
The room was vast. Off to the left were mounds of glittering Galleons, piled to the ceiling. To the right was a maze of beautiful old furniture.
"Harry," Hermione half-whispered after a second. "When you said 'old money'…"
"I didn't expect this either, Hermione," Harry said weakly.
The goblin cleared his throat, bringing them both back to earth. "We'd better start looking," Harry said, walking further into the vault. Hermione walked after him, running her hands over the carved furniture. She had soon lost sight of Harry, who was moving more quickly than she was. The goblin stayed near the door, keeping an eye on both of them.
Hermione turned a corner and gasped. There were bookshelves overflowing with books. She ran her fingers over their spines. These were worth a fortune; there were hundreds of original manuscripts and first edition books. She was itching to pick them up and read them. The goblin chuckled.
"Mrs Potter enjoyed reading too," he remarked.
"Which one?" Hermione asked curiously.
He thought for a moment. "Most of them, I believe."
Harry's head poked back around the corner. "Go, enjoy the books," he said, in a kind yet slightly patronizing way.
Hermione couldn't quite muster the glare she thought the comment deserved.
A few minutes later, Harry's voice sounded again from even further in. "How many dining tables did we need? I've seen at least four already…"
"The quantity of tables does not indicate the amount used during every generation. Several have been in the vault for over three hundred years. New furniture was bought every few generations as a tradition, I believe," the goblin explained. "The carved oak table was deposited by your great-great-great grandfather in his youth, and he purchased a new one, which was in turn deposited by his son."
Harry retraced his steps. Hermione was practically drooling over an original Hogwarts: A History, which despite being several hundred years old, looked to be in much better shape than her copy.
"You can keep that if you'd like," he offered. Hermione was speechless. He grinned as she opened her mouth and a slight gurgle came out. "Yes, I know it's very old. No, I don't mind you keeping it. Yes, I really mean that. No, I'll actually never read it. Yes, I know it's worth a lot. No, my children can get their own copies. Hermione, just take it."
Her mouth opened again to protest, but her hands were already holding the book close and stroking its spine. He turned to the goblin. "Have you been managing this vault very long?" he asked. The goblin thought for a moment.
"I took over as vault manager as your great-great-great-great grandfather became Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter," he answered.
"So a while then," Harry said with a smile.
The goblin grinned back. "Yes."
"Would you know how this vault is organised? Not that it looks very organised, but…"
"Your father had no particular interest in the organisation of the vault once your grandparents' possessions were deposited. Is there something I can help you find, Mr Potter?"
"I don't know if they'd be in here, but if they were, where would I find old wedding and engagement rings?" Harry asked.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione whispered. "That's perfect."
"Over here, sir," the goblin led them past a familiar-looking tapestry to a very old wardrobe. "I regret that it isn't a complete collection, as some Mrs Potters opted to be buried with their wedding rings, but those we do have will be in here." The wardrobe looked like it hadn't been opened in twenty years, and the hinges creaked as Harry pulled on the doors.
There, on the various shelves, covered by years of dust, sat rows of velvet boxes. Harry and Hermione began to open boxes, exclaiming over their contents.
"Oh, Harry, look at this one. It's stunning."
"Hermione, isn't this gorgeous?"
They must have gone through a dozen boxes before Harry flipped one open and froze. "Hermione," he said in a hoarse whisper. "This is it."
Hermione looked over his shoulder. "That's the one," she agreed quietly. It was a fairly simple ring, but elegant in its simplicity. A row of tiny diamonds sparkled through years of dust. "It's perfect."
Harry closed the wardrobe and they moved towards the front of the vault. "Did you find what you were looking for?" the goblin asked. Harry showed him the ring. "Ah. That, Mr Potter, was your grandmother's ring."
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Also, Real Life Sucks by Cheezels