Chapter 11: Contractual Obligations

The host of goblins, accompanied by one lucky man and one very lucky werewolf, filed into the ritual chamber and approached Harry. He seemed... better, for lack of a better word, Remus thought. Harry stood proudly, unashamed of his ravaged flesh. His eyes twinkled in much the same way as Albus Dumbledore's were said to. Perhaps it was simply a sign of powerful magic.

"Hello, Bill. I didn't expect to see you here today. Moony said you couldn't make it."

"I received a last minute invitation, courtesy of my employers." He grinned at the boy's enthusiasm. Rather than seeming drained from the ritual, Harry looked refreshed, as if just waking from a much needed sleep.

Nearby, the three healers consulted with their fellow goblins in the rough language of their race. It was impossible to translate, even for Bill, as they spoke so quickly and spoke over each other so frequently. When they concluded, they turned toward their guests.

"It would seem we have misjudged you, Mr. Lupin and Curse-breaker Weasley. While young Harry was truly combating the Dark Lord's spirit, it was a form of possession known to few goblins and fewer men. We will be taking our findings to our lead researchers, but you needn't fear retribution for the damage the violent magic has caused to our companions and to the wards. I am told they will recover."

Harry dressed as the goblins spoke with his friends, again in hushed tones, deflecting questions until more was known about the events they had just witnessed.

"If the three of you will please join Account Manager Riptooth, I believe he is expecting you," the Chieftess addressed them in due time. It was a clear dismissal, and the group left after expressing their sincere gratitude to the Nation. Harry was careful not to make any promises of aid in return, as he knew such an offer could come back to haunt him.

"The young warrior returns, triumphant! Welcome back, Heir Potter. I took the liberty of opening your accounts when I heard the news. There is some urgent manners to attend to regarding your House that must be completed immediately. Afterwards you will be free to leave or do further business with Gringotts as you please."

"What's wrong with the house?" Harry asked, confused as to how that might be relevant to the conversation.

"Not the house that you live in, Heir Potter. I was speaking of the Ancient Houses, to which the Potters belong. As heir, you are expected to continue your family's legacy. Surely you've been told as much?"

"I have, sir. It was part of my education on Wizard Customs and the role of the Goblin Nation in Magical Britain. I just misunderstood, I think."

"Very well. I forget that you are still a child. You carry yourself more confidently now than when I last saw you. Shall we begin with the subject in question? Your family here is welcome to stay for this discussion, if it suits you."

Harry smiled at the inclusion of Bill as part of his family. He had begun to think of Bill as an older brother. Minerva was something akin to what Harry assumed an aunt should be, and Jonas was probably his closest friend and confidant for the things he was too nervous to talk to Moony about. Regardless of the technicalities of his relationships, Harry knew that having those people around made him happy.

"I'd like them to stay. They can probably explain the things I don't understand."

"Very well. The first thing on our agenda is perhaps the most frustrating, though you may disagree. I have here a copy of your parents will." Riptooth opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a sealed envelope. "Unfortunately, this will has been sealed under the authority of the Wizenmagot. The head of that body is Albus Dumbledore, with whom you are certainly familiar."

Harry and both older men immediately started fuming. Yet another bone to pick with the old man, Harry thought.

Clearly, Riptooth noticed the reaction to that bit of news. "Before you go sue the Chief Warlock for tampering, you may want to hear his reasoning."

When the three calmed themselves, he resumed speaking. "Many believe that the Potters' will was meant to be witnessed and executed by Dumbledore himself. This is untrue. The signed witness is a man who may have influenced the will in his own favor. A man who would be legally required to share a room with the Potter Heir for a public reading if this will were to be opened, irrespective of his current status. Albus Dumbledore felt it necessary to prevent Harry from ever being in the presence of one Sirius Orion Black."

Remus leapt up and growled. His eyes darted to the will with a look of pure hatred. He clutched at the mark on his arm, barely visible beneath self-inflicted scars, that seemed to burn with renewed energy. Watching him closely, if a bit cautiously, Harry put the pieces together.

"The fourth Marauder. The one you never name in your stories... that was Sirius Black?"

"He betrayed us!" Remus shouted. Remus never shouted.

"That son of a bitch sold Lily and James to Voldemort, and killed Wormtail himself. Fucking Deatheater turncoat!"

Thankfully for Harry's sanity, he already knew most of that, otherwise he would certainly have been overwhelmed. All he had been missing was a name. Anger about his parents' deaths that he hadn't known he carried suddenly had an outlet. For the first time, Harry felt the desire for revenge. Sirius Black was going to pay.

"How do I open the will?"

A loud "What!?" came from both of his companions as soon as Harry finished speaking.

"I need to hear him tell me why he did it. I've heard almost every story about the Marauders, and not one of them explain why Sirius betrayed my parents." Harry struggled to explain his new burning need. Vengeance steeped in genuine curiosity. Why did Sirius Black do it? Was he ever really their friend?

Riptooth, though hesitant, was obligated to respond. "Technically, you are the head of House Potter, though you are not yet able to claim your lordship. Under your authority, this will could be unsealed immediately. However, it would then become binding. Any measures you choose to dispute would need to be fought quickly. The Potter family has a team of solicitors on retainer, I believe, should you choose to do so, but I feel compelled to point out that anger is a very poor motivation for reckless decisions."

"Harry, look at me," Remus begged. "Please don't do this. Not today. I understand why you want to. I really do, but we both need time to digest this before acting."

Bill merely nodded in agreement. Harry had just one other opinion to discover.

"Let me talk to Balthazar. Sometimes he knows me better than I know myself. If he believes we should wait, I will, but if he disagrees, I'll be reading that will today." He looked straight into his father's eyes and saw fear and pain there. Old wounds had been opened, and Moony was in no better a position to cope than Harry.

"I won't deny that I'm angry, Moony, but I also need to know what's in there, and I need to know why my parents' closest friend led Voldemort to our house that night."

Remus could only shake his head sadly as he gave Harry his pack and allowed Balthazar to join them. The fate of the discussion would be decided by a snake.

The group received anther shock as Balthazar emerged from his pocket. Where once his scales had had been dark, glossy green, there were now pure white scales in their place. Only Harry recognized the possible reason for the change, having seen his magic take a similar form.

"Balthazar... you've changed."

"Yesss... I have. And in more ways than one. The connection I share with your magic ssseems complete. I was wracked with terrible pain before shedding my ssskin, and appearing as I do now."

"I sssaw you! My magic was like a white sssnake, fighting the ssspirit of Voldemort."

"Your magic is a part of you, and I am a part of your magic. Thisss is my only explanation for the change. I sssense you have more to discuss?"

Harry was thinking of ways to summarize the events of the past ten minutes, when Balthazar began to hiss in staccato.

"That is new. I sssee what you have ssseen and I understand the problem. I agree with your choice, Master. The truth must be known... yet I think thisss truth may cost more than you think," Blathazar finished, pointing with his tail in Moony's direction, where the man held his face in his hands, no doubt trying to decide whether to continue arguing or not.

A rush of guilt slammed into Harry's chest. After all his adoptive father had done for him, and never once leading him astray, Harry was about to ignore his pleading for his own gain. The thought turned Harry's stomach, and a bitterness rose in his throat. He looked down, ashamed of his behavior.

"I'm sorry, dad," Harry started. "I wasn't thinking about how you must feel. I was being selfish." Tears trickled down Harry's face as he thought of letting his family down so callously.

Remus looked up at Harry, recognizing the olive branch he was being offered. "I'm sorry too, cub. I should have explained my reasons instead of reacting how I did. Can we agree to leave the will for now? If you still want to open it in a week, I'll contact the solicitors and prepare to fight whatever Black may have convinced your parents to write."

"Okay," Harry murmured, still refusing to meet Lupin's eyes.

"Come here, son." Moony opened his arms wide and Harry rushed into his embrace, tears now flowing freely. "It's all right, Harry. It's all right."

Goblins by nature were not comfortable with such displays of emotion. Riptooth gave the pair a moment, conversing quietly about areas of mutual interest with the eldest Weasley child. Deciding to forego further discussion of the will, he introduced the second piece of business, now knowing for certain that this news would be more welcome.

"If you would take your seats again, gentlemen, we can move on to more pleasant matters."

"Are you certain of that?" came the reply. Remus' question was laced with doubt.

"As a matter of fact, I am. What remains to be done is a matter of contractual obligation for the Heir of the Potter legacy. Specifically, it seems our young warrior has inherited three marriage contracts. That two of those contracts technically call for marriage to himself leads to us to the pleasantness I mentioned, by way of a legal loophole."

Everyone in the room was aware of marriage contracts, though opinions on the subject were much varied. Riptooth, of course, saw it as little more than a cultural marker for the Wizarding World. Bill, himself being a pureblood heir, saw the contracts as a formality, as marriages were often arranged by parents even in the muggle world, through influence if not direct intervention. Remus, a half blood, knew of the contracts and had come to believe they were a malignant relic of more prejudiced times. Harry, though only eleven, was well versed in magical tradition and saw the contract as a way to grow his small family, which seemed all right by him.

"What's involved in this loophole?" Bill asked.

Riptooth folded his hands across his desk before responding. "I believe a thorough explanation may be required. Harry is the heir to both the Potter and Peverell lines through a marriage several generations ago. The contracts in question were written before that marriage, and they arranged for the families to unite if ever they should each be left with only one surviving member. Harry is the first instance of a sole surviving member of either line, though the two have already merged. Thus, Harry would be obligated to marry himself, which is clearly impossible and probably illegal." He paused to be sure his audience was following. "Another pureblood law allows for sole surviving heirs to be emancipated early, in order to make them more suitable candidates for marriage, thus continuing the bloodlines."

Bill and Remus furrowed their brows as they both competed in a sort of mental gymnastics to process what was being said. It was Bill who worked it out first.

"So what you're saying is that Harry can be emancipated now, giving him all the rights of an adult wizard? What's the catch?"

"Simply put, Harry must take a wife for each line, in order to fulfill the terms of the contracts. Who those wives are is up to him, in theory." Riptooth directed the rest of his reply to Harry. "If you choose not to fulfill the contracts, the penalty is a five hundred galleon fine, adjusted for inflation. You would pay that amount to the insulted party, in this case, yourself."

Lupin's jaw dropped while Bill simply started laughing. Oh, how he loved working with goblins. A man as clever was hard to find.

"Hold on... Sir, didn't you say I had three contracts? That leaves one more."

"So it does, young warrior. So it does. This one, I'm happy to report, was arranged personally by your parents during the last war, shortly after they learned they would be having a son. The other family involved is the Ancient and Noble House of Bones. The House is currently lead by Amelia Bones, whose husband Edgar was the Head of House. He was killed, along with his brother and sister-in-law, in the final days of the war. Amelia is now the guardian of her niece, Susan Bones, for whom this contract was arranged. Susan will be your wife someday, though she will keep her maiden name. Any children will also be named Bones, thus keeping the line intact."

Bill let out a low whistle. Multiple wives were uncommon in Britain, but not unheard of. He knew for certain that Amos Diggory had two wives, though he never asked the reason for it. "Damn, Harry. Three wives, or one? That's an awfully big choice to make, but I think I speak for everyone when I say we'll support you whichever you decide."

Next to him, Remus signaled his agreement. Compared to the news of Sirius Black being the gatekeeper of the Potters' will, the idea of Harry someday marrying more than one girl was a joyful alternative. In truth, he knew he would be teasing Harry about it as soon as he was old enough to start dating.

"I've always wanted a big family. I just have one question. Would being emancipated mean I can't stay with my dad?"

That would be a dealbreaker for Harry. A big family in the future meant nothing compared to the family he had now. Moony smiled at the meaning behind his words. They had had a rough day, but they were still family. Nothing would get in the way of that.

"You could continue as you are. All that changes is that you will legally be allowed to practice magic outside of school. You can also send a proxy to the Wizenmagot to cast votes in your name, though that would make your change in status public."

This time it was Lupin who noted the significance of that choice. "I think it would be best if very few people knew about this. We can't be certain that Harry's status wouldn't be used against him in some way."

"I thought as much. We would not, for instance, like to see Harry forced to duel a much more competent wizard to settle disagreements. Either way, I must know your choice today regarding the Potter and Peverell contracts. I will give you some time alone to discuss it." Riptooth stood and left the room, leaving the three to make their choice. Harry would be listening to his family this time.

Half an hour later, Riptooth returned. Seeing Harry seated with a look of anticipation, the account manager guessed the outcome of the private talk.

"It's been decided then?" he asked

Harry made his reply, "it has. I accept the terms of the contract as heir to the Potter name. I accept the terms of the contract as heir to the Peverell name."

A flash of magic surrounded Harry, sealing the promise. It was, oddly enough, Harry's first and last magical act as a child.

"Well met, Lord Potter. Well met, Lord Peverell."

"Well met, Master Riptooth." Harry grinned. The feeling his magical oath had given him was lingering still, like a cold wind on his skin. Gooseflesh covered his arms as the magic dissipated.

"As Head of House, all your family vaults are now accessible. The Potters spent a great deal on the war effort, but you are wealthy still. Few families have ever been as industrious as yours, and only the oldest families could rival your accounts. Gringotts will continue investing your gold, if you wish it. A small percentage of the profits will be taken as a fee."

"May I ask what percentage Gringotts takes?"

"Four and a half percent. On an account as large as the Potters', the income is generous."

Harry had learned a great deal about goblins from Bill, including the integrity of their work, and the cultural value associated with good business. With that in mind, he made his choice.

"For the aid given by the Goblin Nation to my self, I would like to double that percentage for a period of eleven years."

Riptooth's eyes grew wide, a rare reaction for the veteran banker. "I humbly accept your proposal, Lord Potter. The Nation appreciates your business. May your gold flow like a river."

"And may your enemies' blood flow beside it," Harry finished. Both Riptooth and Bill looked mightily impressed. It was customary for goblins, as both a capitalistic and a combatant race, to exchange blessings in such a way, but it was unusual, or rather exceptionally rare, for a wizard to formulate an appropriate reply as Harry had.

He didn't know it yet, but Harry Potter had just made a very favorable impression on the Goblin Nation. They had already begun calling him "young warrior," in respect for the his strength facing the horrors he had survived. When Riptooth would later relay this discussion, some would begin calling him "young champion." The meaning would not be clear to any outsider, no matter how educated, but within the Nation, it meant more than could be expressed in words. It seemed Riptooth had been wise to offer Harry his help years ago.

A/N: I know what you must be thinking. "Another chapter so soon?" Well, yeah. It was a choice between writing the fifteen pages I have due Monday or writing a few thousand words for this chapter. The choice was clear... although I still have to do the less fun work later... Oops. Don't expect another miracle.

Miss Bones will appear soon enough. She and Harry have a lot in common, so I feel like they make sense as my first revealed pairing. More girls will follow, as they must (damn marriage contracts used as convenient plot devices), but we may not see clear candidates for our young Lord's other Ladies for some time. He's eleven, folks. I think I was still afraid of cooties at that age. I certainly wasn't making a list of suitable wives.

Regardless, please continue to review and leave suggestions.

Cheers,

DamWaters