Next chapter. Yay! Updates are gonna be sporadic. Sue me.
Also, I'm not sure if you've noticed this, but I'm making this up as I go. If you have an idea, shoot it my way, please.
On the 6th floor, in an unused classroom, amidst many dust covered desks and chairs, sat Harry Potter. He found himself unable to calm down, with his mind racing. No matter how much he told himself that this was just a meeting about his recent emancipation, he couldn't help but feel that this meeting was so much more. A quick check at his watch showed the time to be 10 till 11. Fishing the Gringotts portkey out of his pocket, he stood up, and began pacing, counting down the minutes until it would activate.
He was in the middle of turning to continue his pacing when he felt a hooking motion behind his navel, much like the portkey he had taken to the world cup with the Weasleys. With a swirl, he was deposited in a very simple looking office. Gathering his bearings, he looked around. Besides a few shelves covered in books and trinkets, the office consisted of two chairs in front of a large wooden desk, at which sat a goblin. He looked no different than any other goblin Harry had seen, except maybe a little older. He was bald, except for tuffs of hair protruding from his ears. His small, dark eyes bored into Harry. With a gesture to one of the chairs before him, he sat "Sit, Mr. Potter. We have much to do today."
Lowering himself into the offered chair, Harry scanned the desk for some kind of name plate, but finding none, quietly asked "Are you Knifehand?" The goblin continued to stare at him, but nodded his conformation. Without taking his eyes off of his client, Knifehand reached into a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a manila folder. Placing the folder in front of Harry, he leaned back in his chair, and for the first time, looked away from him.
"Did you know," he said, startling Harry, "That my family has managed the accounts belonging to the Potter family since the establishment of Gringotts?" When Harry shook his head, the goblin continued. "Yes. The account was opened in 1475, just a year after the creation of Gringotts. My ancestor, who went by the name Dullblade, was a close friend to the manager of the bank, and was given the honor of managing a high value account. That was the Potters. Even 600 years ago, the Potters were wealthy. And, to be honest, your wealth has only grown." Gesturing to the folder, he said "And that brings us to one of the reasons you are here today. Given you recent emancipation, you need to be made aware of the accounts you own."
Harry hesitantly opened the folder, and looked at the contents. On the first sheet of paper was a detailed list of the accounts that he could access, which included the main Potter vault, a storage vault, and his trust fund vault, as well as the Black, Peverall, and Gryffindor vaults. At the bottom of the sheet, there was a line that stated 'Total Liquid assets value.' Next to those words was a number with more digits that Harry thought possible. Shaking his head, he said "You weren't kidding when you said that I was rich."
Knifehand chuckled. "That's not all, Mr. Potter. If you'll turn to the second page, you will see the Potter real estate summary. It's nowhere near as extensive as the vault holdings, as I believe your father sold many of the properties before he went into hiding. The remaining properties were placed in stasis, and sealed."
Harry flipped to the mentioned page. The list was small, like Knifehand had mentioned. The only properties listed were Potter Manor, a small home in Godric's Hallow, and a beach villa along a secluded stretch of the Cote d'azur. Still, Harry was pleased. While he didn't think he'd return to Godric's Hallow, he was glad to know that he still owned the property. Closing the folder, he set it on the table, and turned to Knifehand. "Did my family have any investments? I know it's more of a muggle idea, but I am curious if I own shares to any of the businesses around here."
Nodding, Knifehand pulled another sheet of parchment out of his desk. "While most wizards don't invest the same way muggles do, Gringotts does offer an investment service through our muggle connection, HSBC Holdings. At the urging of your Mother, James gave us permission to invest as best we could. We usually offer this service at either a flat rate of 250 Galleons a year, or a percentage of the profits, usually 4%. In the past 15 years, your investments have grown well. We have very aggressive investors, and they've yet to be wrong about a major investment." Scanning further down the page, Knifehand added "Now wizards do invest in wizarding business in their own way. When someone wants to start a business, they apply at the ministry for a permit. The ministry instantly gets 10% of the store's profits as a form of taxes. From there, other wizards may offer to purchase percentages of the business and its profits. In that fashion, the Potters own between 3-6% of almost every business in Diagon Alley. A few notable exceptions being Gringotts, Olivander's, and the Daily Prophet. Gringotts, belonging to the Goblin nation, has zero outside influence. Olivander's, which needs rare ingredients, often relied upon the Potter family to supply them. You own 20% of the store."
"The Daily Prophet, on the other hand, was co-founded by a family friend of the Potters, he died without heirs, leaving his share of the company, 30%, to you ancestor. Throughout the years, the heads of the Potter family have acquired small percentages through trades, and today, you own 55% of the paper."
Harry sat in silence for a moment, then grinned. "Knifehand," he began, "would it be possible for me to have a copy of that? I have a certain, uh, journalistic issue, shall we say, that I'm sure I could resolve with that."
Cocking his head to the side, Knifehand asked "You are referring to Ms. Skeeter, I presume?" Harry nodded. Smirking, the goblin tapped the piece of Parchment, then tapped a blank sheet. The words were instantly copied over, and Knifehand handed it to Harry. "Enjoy."
"I plan to," Was the reply.
Gathering up the papers on his desk, Knifehand coughed once, then said "Now, as you have been emancipated, there are a few things you should be made aware of. Firstly, you are formally recognized as an adult, and have all the rights that accompany such. The trace has been removed from your wand, you may learn apparition, though I would recommend you wait a year or two, and you may, should you wish, get married, or script a marriage contract. You are also now eligible to become the head of your house." He pulled out a small, wooden box, and placed it before Harry. "Should you wish to assume that mantle, simply place the head of house ring on the 4th finger on your right hand."
Harry opened the box to find, nestled in velvet, a small, gold signet ring, into which was carved a large gothic P. gently taking out the ring, he looked to Knifehand, who nodded in encouragement, and slid the ring onto his finger. It quickly flashed, and resized to fit. On it had, Knifehand smiled. "Congratulations, Lord Potter, you are now officially recognized as the head of your family. You may now negotiate contracts on behalf of members of your family, and once you reach the age of 21, may sit upon your Family's seat in the Wizengamot, and vote upon the laws that govern your country."
"Lord?" Harry asked.
"Ah, I've forgotten you were not raised in the wizarding world. The Potter family, as well as others, are considered ancient and noble families, making their heads lords. Families that are title ancient have existed far longer than the Ministry, and in the case of the noble families, were part of the original council that governed wizarding Britain and its surrounding colonies. They were titled the council of Lords. In 1439, they made a decision to open the council to outside families, renaming it the Wizard's Council. This council was replaced by the Ministry of Magic in 1707. To this day, however, the original families have retained a massive amount of political influence. Hence, the practice of calling the heads of these families' lords has remained as well."
Harry just nodded. "I might need a nap after this," He mumbled. "My head hurts."
Knifehand smirked. "Yes, well, do you have any other questions?" he asked.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door behind him. Growling, Knifehand barked "What? I'm in an important meeting." The door opened to reveal another goblin that looked very similar to Knifehand, albeit younger. Bowing, he spoke.
"Account manager Knifehand, I have been sent to tell you that Lord Ragnok shall be here in 5 minutes, he wished to speak with Lord Potter."
Knifehand's eyes widened. "Understood, Griphook. Have you been ordered to stay?" When Griphook nodded, Knifehand sighed, and said "Very well." Waving his hand, a small wooden chair appeared off to the side of his desk. "Sit, nephew, while we wait." Griphook quickly moved to sit.
Harry looked surprised for a second, then said "Wait, Griphook? Weren't you the goblin that took me down to my vault the first time I visited Gringotts?"
"July 31, 1991. I'm surprised you remember me. Most humans wouldn't"
"Well," Harry said, "You were the first Goblin I met. You left quite the impression. To be honest, I was quite frightened by you." Griphook smirked at his comment. Harry turned back to Knifehand. "You said Griphook was your nephew?"
Knifehand nodded. "Yes, my sister's son. As I have only daughters myself, Griphook will be the one to assume the mantle of Potter account manager. I will probably begin the process of training him in a few decades. Probably around the time of your grandchildren. I believe he will be a wonderful manager."
Harry smiled, and said "Well then, Griphook, I hope you'll treat my family well." Griphook just bowed his head slightly.
Suddenly the door opened, and in strode another goblin, much older than either Griphook or Knifehand. He moved slowly, yet with a steady purpose. Both goblins already in the room quickly vacated their chairs. The newest addition to the meeting made his way around Knifehand's desk, and took a seat. He gestured for Harry, who had risen after seeing Knifehand and Griphook do so, to sit back down. There was a thick silence across the room, as he stared at Harry.
Harry thought he was used to staring by now, with the constant attention he received at school. But the intensity of the goblin's gaze was extraordinary. He did his best to keep his eyes up, but it was only a few moments later that he dropped them. He wondered if the goblin would ever stop staring at him or say something, when he was startled by a cough from Knifehand. "My liege," he said, "I mean not to question you actions, but I find myself curious as to the nature of your visit. Is there something you require of Lord Potter?" The elder goblin nodded.
"Lord Potter," he began in a deep, rumbling voice, "I am confused. Throughout the ages, your family has been a friend of the goblin nation, yet for the past 3 years, you have insulted us. We at first assumed it to be the childish actions of an 11 year-old, and let the matter rest. But until this week, you have ignored every piece of correspondence we have sent you. Now, before I become truly upset, I shall allow you to explain your actions."
Harry sat for a moment, mulling over what he had just heard. Then, looking back up, he said "Sir, I'm not really sure what you mean. I haven't received any Gringotts correspondence except for the letter last week." Every goblin the room seemed surprised by this revelation.
Knifehand seemed most surprised by this. "I had assumed that you were just letting you magical guardian handle your accounts until you were of age. I had no idea we were getting no response. Gutshank, down in our mailing center, reported successful delivery after every statement." He appeared thoughtful for a minute. "Though I never specifically requested a meeting before this, I guess I am surprised you didn't come to see me when you turn 11, Lord Potter. I just figured you magical guardian had decided to explain your finances himself."
Harry nodded "Dumbledore," He growled. At the confused glances he saw from his companions, he elaborated. "Albus Dumbledore is my magical guardian. And he has made it clear he has no problem bending or even breaking rules to get his way, especially where I am involved. I wouldn't be surprised if he was preventing me from getting my mail. It wouldn't be the worst thing he has done to me." Shaking his head at the thought of his crazy headmaster, he added, "Also, if possible, I'd rather you all just call me Harry. Even if it's just in private, Lord Potter is much too formal."
"Your father felt much the same about his title," Knifehand said.
Ragnok shifted in his seat, leaning forward. "Very well, Harry, the thought that someone has been intercepting Gringotts mail disturbs me. I also find myself worried that that was not the only injustice done. Griphook, I'd like you to take two of the guards down to the mail division and question Gutshank about any mail he's sent that involved the Potter family." The young goblin nodded and left the room. "Knifehand, while your nephew does that, I'd like if you could do a full audit of the Potter accounts, beginning October 31, 1981. You have director clearance for the duration of your investigation." Knifehand quickly bowed, grabbed a folder from his desk, and made his way out of the office.
Ragnok, waved his hand, shutting the doors to the room. He turned to Harry and said "Harry when I said I was worried about injustices, I wasn't only referring to banking affairs. I have known Albus Dumbledore for many more years then most would assume. In fact, since he became the head of his family at the age of 17, over 90 years ago. And I must that I would agree with your observation that he would go to great lengths to get what he wants. He is a fascinatingly stubborn person. However, he also has a reason for every action he performs. Which leads me to believe he has gone further than just withholding your mail. Your earlier comment cements that belief. So I must ask, what else has he done to you?"
Harry was silent. He had recently been thinking about how much of his life was bad luck, and how much was Albus Dumbledore's interaction. Sighing, he looked Ragnok in the eyes, and began telling him of his life before Hogwarts, of his trials and tribulations in school. He told him about the many things about his life that didn't add up. When he had finished, Ragnok looked furious. "Harry, I know it doesn't mean much, but I am sorry for how you have been treated. While goblins may be a warlike people, no child should ever be treated badly, and certainly not to the degree that you have been. I can do nothing unless he commits some wrongdoing in the bank, but I promise that I can file a grievance through our ministry liaison, should you wish."
Harry just shook his head. "No. I appreciate the gesture of support, but I have a plan for dealing with him." Just then Griphook came back into the office, supporting a nasty looking cut on his cheek.
"My Lord, Lord Po-Harry, I have some unfortunate news. When I question Gutshank about the Potter family mail, he took a swipe at me with a letter opener." Griphook said, gesturing to his cheek. "Luckily, the guards stopped him before he could do any further damage." He made his way back over to his chair, and sat down heavily. "He answered our questions, sans his arms. Then the guards pitched him down the vault shaft. It appears the Albus Dumbledore instructed Gutshank to report that Harry was getting his statements and letters, and responding normally."
Ragnok looked outraged. "Do you mean to tell me," he growled, "That one of our goblins was operating under the instructions of an outside presence against the will of the bank?" When Griphook nodded in the affirmative, Ragnok slammed his fist on the desk. "Dammit." He barked. "Griphook, when we are done today, I want you to go back down to the mailing division and ensure that no one is under the influence of anyone but Gringotts itself. Once you are done, you are to do the same with every single department. You are also instructed to approach captain of the guard, Sharpfang, and tell him I am ordering him to evaluate the loyalties of every goblin in the guard." Griphook just bowed in response.
After that, Ragnok seemed to calm down, at least externally. But he became visibly agitated when Knifehand came through the door. Before anyone else could react, Ragnok asked "What do you have to report, Account manager Knifehand?"
"Sir, I'm afraid I must report that discrepancies were discovered in the Potter accounts. Every year, when Harry's schooling fund is refilled, a second vault has money diverted to it. Not the 50,000 that goes into the trust fund, but a small vault is filled to 2,000 galleons. I have frozen the vault, and halted all payments. But unfortunately, this has been occurring for 13 years. We estimate that a sum of a little over 15,000 galleons has been removed over this period."
"Who?" was the growled response, though it came from Harry, not Ragnok.
Knifehand seemed taken aback by the tone from the boy, but answered. "The vault had two names upon it: Dumbledore, and Molly Prewett."
Harry slumped down in his chair. His mind raced. He wasn't surprised, given recent revelations about Dumbledore, that he was taking his money, as well. But the news that Molly, a women he had come to think of as a second mother, would go so far as to steal from him made him extremely sad, and a little sick. He knew the Weasleys didn't have much in the way of extra money. In fact, he would have had no problem giving them money, had they asked. However, Molly had used her maiden name, and hidden it from him. He was startled by Ragnok coughing to get his attention. When he had it, he ask "Harry? There are of course, Gringotts procedures set in place for this type of situation, but I would like to know how you would like us to proceed."
Harry sat in silence for a few more moments. Steepling his fingers, he said, "I think that I'd like to leave it up to Gringotts. I figure whatever the bank feels is the proper punishment will suffice. On my end, I might try to talk with Molly. I'm not sure. Regardless, I leave this matter in your capable hands."
"Very well," the aged goblin said. "There is one final issue that I feel requires addressing. This is more of a courtesy, but I would be remise not to offer our help. The goblin nation offers a collection of high quality services, one of which is warding, and another of which is rendering. The former, I mention because you might have interest in hiring them to ward your house properties. The latter, I think, you might have use for in the chamber of secrets, to render the basilisk down to usable, and sellable, parts."
Harry seemed thoughtful for a moment, but nodded. "Those both seem to be wonderful ideas, Ragnok. Please, feel free to send your best warders to all of my properties. Have them set up the best wards they can design, and tell them that their check is blank. Whatever their normal fee, tell them I will give them a 15% bonus if they can be finished will all the properties by Christmas day. As for the rendering of the basilisk, that can be done at any point in time. I see no conflict with them coming in next Saturday, say, 2 O' clock?"
Ragnok smiled and made a few notes on a spare piece of parchment. "I will make sure everything is ready as you requested," He said. "That, Lord Potter, concludes my business with you. Do you have anything else you wish to discuss with me?"
Harry shook his head. "No, Lord Ragnok, I have nothing else. Though, I must thank you for your help today. I am honored that you took the time to see to this personally." Ragnok inclined his head in acknowledgment. He stood, causing everyone else in the room to stand as well. Bidding all a good day, he left the office. Knifehand reclaimed his desk and chair, and set to reorganizing his desk.
"As much as I wish to say this has been a most wonderful meeting Harry, I'm afraid, given recent discoveries, that I cannot. However, I am very glad we could meet today, and I hope you will feel free to owl me with any questions you have. If there is nothing else to be done here, I am sure you wish to return to school." He said. "It is well past 3 already."
Slightly shocked at how long the meeting had gone, Harry said "Actually, Knifehand, I have two things to address before I go. Firstly, I would like for you to continue your efforts in investing in the muggle world. However, I would like for you to be amply compensated for your work. Instead of 4%, I would rather you take 7% of the investment profits. Also, I wanted to know if Gringotts offered an alternative method of payment, as walking around with a bag full of money is sometimes annoying, and even suspicious in the muggle world."
Knifehand nodded. "In the wizarding world, any payment can be made using you head of house ring. Don't ask how, but through a contract tying the house magic and Gringotts, the amount is automatically deducted from your account. For the muggle world, we have something similar, though the muggles would call it a credit card. It functions much the same, though the money is transferred through our muggle contacts, of course. I take it you would like one?"
Harry nodded. Knifehand simply pulled a form from his desk, filled it out, and passed it to Harry, who quickly signed it. He gave the form back to Knifehand, who folded it a few times, till it was about the size of a playing card. Giving it a few taps with his finger, it changed into a sleek, plastic card, white, with a galleon on it. He handed to card to harry, who said "Thank you. I have no further business today. If I may ask, however, how am I supposed to return to Hogwarts? The portkey can't get through the wards."
Knifehand handed him a small piece of string, and said "This will put you at the front gates. Im afraid you shall have to walk the rest of the way, or convince some beast to carry you. Activate." Harry disappeared with a swirl, leaving Knifehand and his nephew to their business.
-0-
Albus Dumbledore was beyond furious. He had discovered, through his tracking charms, that Harry had left the castle. Though he could not tell where, he figured it could only be one of a few places, none of them good. But without a doubt, he wanted Harry kept from Sirius, and out of Gringotts. Little did he know, when he say one of his many devices indicated Harry had returned to Hogwarts, that he was returning from that very place.
-0-
At the same time, Sirius Black was reading a message from his former classmate, and though he loathed to accept it, and former victim, Severus Snape. He found, as he scanned the letter, that he too was concerned with the events taking place at Hogwarts. By far, he found Snape's description of Moody's actions the most disturbing. Having served with the crazy old man, both in the aurors and the order, he knew the paranoid, distrusting, and abrasive attitude the man had, and that was towards his allies! The fact that he hadn't already tried killing Snape or Karkaroff, was proof that something was amiss. And he knew Dumbledore would do nothing about it.
He quickly began writing a response, first acknowledging Snape's points, but also adding his sorrow and regret for how he had treated him in their years of schooling. He finished with the hope that Snape could forgive him, and if not, the plea that he would still help Harry.
He also penned a letter to Amelia Bones, the Head of the DMLE, anonymously, on the surfacing of evidence exonerating himself. He set up a meeting time and place, and asked that if she was interested, she come alone to hear him out.
With both letters sent, he returned to his work, namely, assisting Remus with a potion of the marauders invention. It was going to be one of Harry's many Christmas presents. He couldn't wait to see what his pup's animagus form would be.
-0-
Upon his return from Gringotts, Harry made his way to the great Hall. Seeing as dinner would begin shortly, he sat, and waited for the food to appear. As he sat, his thoughts ran wild in his head. All of the horrible things that had happened to him. It could all be laid at the feet of Albus Dumbledore. He could not blame him for the abuse he received from the Dursleys, but he could surely blame him for his imprisonment there. He could blame Dumbledore for his initial lack of knowledge of the wizarding world and his family. He could blame him for all of the hardships he suffered the past three years. He could probably blame his headmaster for his current participation in the tri-wizard tournament.
He was momentarily distracted from his stewing thoughts by the appearance of some actual stew, accompanied by rice, bread, and a vast assortment of candies. Quickly beginning to eat, he discovered that he was quite hungry, though he was not too surprised, he had hardly eaten all day.
It wasn't more than 10 minutes later that Daphne strode into the hall alongside Hermione. The both sat down across from Harry, eying him suspiciously. Harry just kept his face as neutral as possible, acknowledging them, but trying to focus on his food, and more importantly, trying not to growl. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became with Albus Dumbledore. He couldn't believe that the man who he had become to think of as almost a grandfather was capable of doing what he had done. His parents had trusted the man. Everyone had.
Suddenly aware that his had started to tap his foot, Harry stood up, saying that he was done. He began walking out of the great hall, though he looked as though he was heading off to break something. Or someone. Daphne took one look as his posture as he left, and could tell something was wrong. She looked to Hermione, who simply nodded. Needing no more encouragement, she bolted out of her seat, and after Harry.
She caught up to him on the stairway, and pulled him on to the 4th floor. Ignoring his protests, she dragged him to the room that they first met in. She pushed him in, rather roughly, and closed the door behind her. Locking the door, and sealing it shut for good measure, she turned around to face him. "Daphne, what the hell-" Harry began, but was cut off by Daphne glaring at him, while pointing at one of the two chairs in the room. She remained silent, and waited until he released a heavy sigh, but sat down. Once he was seated, she joined him, crossing her arms across her chest
"Listen, and listen well, Harry Potter," she began, her voice nearly soft enough to be a whisper. "I understand, better than most, the need to keep secrets. However, I also know the price of keeping secrets. Believe me, Harry, when I say that if you really do not want to tell me something, I will not press. But if you think for a second that I won't ask you what is wrong, then I fear that you are in for a rude awakening." Reaching out, she grasped his hand, and said "Harry, you should know by now that I know all about masks, and reading people. And I know a mask when I see one. Please, what has you so worked up?"
Harry looked at her for a moment, and then signed again. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "Today, when I was gone, I was at Gringotts, filling out the paperwork for my emancipation. However, while I was there, I also learned a few disturbing facts about my life. I-" he paused, then shifted. Standing, and pulling Daphne up with him, he quickly transfigured the chairs into a soft couch. Sitting back down, he pulled Daphne next to him. "I suppose I should start at the beginning."
"You of course know that on October 31, 1981, Voldemort killed my parents, and attempted to kill me. What you don't know, is that he did so because more than two years before that, a prophecy was made stating I could defeat him. I don't know the exact words, but Sirius has mentioned it. However, when he tried to kill me, a protective magic, powered by my Mother's sacrifice, activated, and his spell rebounded, and struck him. Though his body was destroyed, his spirit was still alive. For my 'protection,' Dumbledore placed me with the family of my mother's sister, believe that blood ties would continue to power the sacrificial magic. This he told me first year when I ask him. What he didn't tell me was he also placed me there for another reason. You see Daphne, there are many types of people out there. There are some people who do good, and some who do evil. There are even some people who do both. My aunt and her husband and son, while not truly evil, definitely fall closer to the evil side. Not in the same sense as a murderer, or a thief. The truth is, my relatives hate me. I mean truly, absolutely despise my very existence. For the past 14 years, I have been subjected to some of the most inhumane treatment possible. For the first 10 years I lived in a cupboard. It wasn't until my Hogwarts letter came that I was allowed to move into my cousins toy room. From the age of 5, I've been cooking, cleaning, washing, or anything else they could think of. Until I was 9, and they finally sent me to school, I thought my name was freak, which could be shortened to boy if my uncle wasn't too mad at me, which wasn't often. Bearings were a regularity. Anytime I messed something up, or they thought I did, they beat me. Anytime I did something without permission, they beat me. If I did better than Dudley, my cousin, they beat me. But it wasn't the bearings that were really bad. My cousin, and his sycophant friends would chase me around the neighborhood, like a perverse game of tag, except more violent. When I went to school, they bullied all the other kids into hating me. Dudley would torment me, and I could never strike back. My aunt, however, was never one for physical violence. No, she used psychological warfare and mental torture. She always referred to me as freak, and always called my parents worthless and constantly bad-mouthed them. She would purposefully spoil Dudley, and make me watch while I was forced to do some chore. But by far the worst was when my uncle got drunk."
Quickly taking off his robe and unbuttoning his shirt, he slid it off, and resumed talking. "Here was where he burned me with a cattle brand. Here was where he carved an F for freak in my chest. Here was where he whipped my back to taters." Harry went on to point out almost every major injury he had suffered at the hands of his family. Sitting back down, he looked at Daphne, who was crying silently. Pulling her close, he just hugged her, letting her know it was ok.
"How did you survive?" She asked. "How are you still sane?"
Harry allowed a small smile to grace his lips, before saying "If you asked some of the members of your house, I'm not sane." Lifting her face up, and slowly kissing her, he added "I'm not sure how I survived that place. But all I know is that I never have to go back. And I never will."
Snuggling up into his chest, Daphne absent mindedly traded some of the visible scars. Harry smiled at her, and said "I'm sure the rest of the story you at least have a small bit of knowledge about, so I will give you the short version. In first year, Dumbledore places the philosopher's stone in the castle, behind a series of defenses that three first years managed to defeat. Professor Quirrell, who was acting as a host for Voldemort's spirit, tried to get it. I stopped him. In the process, the magical protection provided by my mother's sacrifice killed him. In second year, Ginny Weasley, possessed by the spirit of a young Voldemort's, via an enchanted diary that Lucius Malfoy slipped into her cauldron, opened the chamber of secrets, and let out the beast of Slytherin. If you weren't aware, it was a basilisk. The reason no one died was because no one ever saw it directly, just its reflection. At the end of the year, Ron and I took Lockhart with us down into the chamber, and after a small accident that caused a cave in, I killed the basilisk and destroyed the diary. And last year, when Sirius escaped, on the night Buckbeak was supposed to be executed, there was a...fight. I'll try to explain the best I can, but to put it simply, Sirius kidnapped Ron, and we tried to rescue him, only to discover Sirius was after Ron's rat, who turned out to be Peter Pettigrew. Together with professor Lupin, Sirius was about to earn his freedom, until Snape arrived. I stunned Snape, but Pettigrew got away. Remus transformed, and Sirius got captured by dementors. At the end of the night, Dumbledore had me and Hermione travel back in time using a time Turner, which Hermione was using to attend multiple classes, and save Buckbeak and Sirius. And of course, you know what is going on this year."
Looking a Daphne, whose expression could only be described as a mixture of surprise, awe, and sadness, he was glad she was still listening. "The real issue," he said, "is that most of that was orchestrated by Dumbledore. He sent me to my relatives with the full knowledge that they would abuse me. He purposefully sent me after the stone, and the chamber, and Sirius, though he hoped Sirius would die. See, Dumbledore wanted to control me, and still does. But he has no idea the storm I'm bringing to rain down upon him."
Finished with his story, Harry asked Daphne "well?"
Daphne looked long and hard at Harry. Slowly reaching up, she caressed his face, and pulled herself up to kiss him. Pulling back, she said "I can't believe you have lived through all that, and are still the amazing man you are today." Relief seemed to pour from Harry at her words. Seeing his reaction, she asked "Harry, did you expect me to be disgusted, or ashamed of you because of what has happened to you?" When Harry nodded slowly, she sat up, and firmly stated "the only people who I'm disgusted with are your relatives. The person that should be ashamed is Dumbledore. Harry, I'm in awe that you would be willing to share that with me. I'm honored that even with your past, you trust me enough to tell me about yourself. I can't pretend to know how difficult it must be, but I know that it's hard to open up about a normal past. Dammit Harry, what happened to you doesn't make me like you any less. In fact, it shows just how strong your character is."
Taken aback by her sudden outburst, Harry just said "Daph, I-I've never told anyone else about this. Not Ron, not Hermione, not even Sirius. I didn't know how you'd react."
Daphne's eyes widened. "You mean, I'm the first person you've ever told?" When he nodded, tears began leaking from her eyes again. When Harry made to ask what was wrong, she stopped him by crashing her lips into his. This wasn't one of the quick pecks he occasionally gave her. This was a passionate, fiery kiss. She poured every ounce of emotion into it, every bit of how she felt. How honored she was that she had been the first person he told. And Harry, though momentarily surprised, did the same. He thought of how grateful he was that she was supporting him. Though no words were exchanged, their thoughts were understood perfectly.
-0-
Later that night, as Daphne laid in bed, she was amazed that given his upbringing, Harry had turned out to be such a wonderful person. She hadn't truly understood Harry until this night. He was a man trapped in a life beset upon all sides by forces that wanted to control him, torment him, and even destroy him. In fact, every time she thought of it, she had to resist the urge to storm up to the headmaster and demand answers. She knew, in her head, that nothing she could do would cause the headmaster to do nothing more than blink at her. But in her heart, she wanted the man to answer for every wrong Harry had suffered.
There was one specific wrong that Dumbledore had caused, that she especially wanted some form of revenge for. While she was pretty sure that Harry would always carry his scars, physical and mental, from the Dursleys, she was also sure that he would at least feel better if they were all punished. And even if he didn't care enough, she would find personal punishment in ensuring that the Dursleys paid dearly for the harm they caused Harry.
Allowing a smile at the thought of extracting revenge on those terrible muggles to grace her face, she slipped into sleep, looking forward to seeing Harry the next day.
