Chapter 24
Voldemort threw his head back and laughed for a few long moments, his cup of tea almost spilling in his lap. "I would pay good money to see the looks on the Black brothers' faces when they realize they are penniless."
Chuckling, Harry got out his wand. "I'm happy to give you that for free." And then he cast his Patronus and a silvery barok shot out of Harry's wand. "Tell Sirius that he'd better get his arse here right now because Gringotts is giving all his gold away." With a nod the barok turned around and disappeared through the wall.
"Of course your Patronus would be one of those terrifying beasts," Voldemort said, though he didn't sound particularly frightened, even with Keket, the flesh and bone barok, sleeping twenty feet away.
"What's yours?" Harry asked, wondering what sort of animal would represent the inner workings of a Dark Lord.
"I never bothered to learn that spell," Voldemort said, waving his hand around in a dismissive gesture before going back to sipping his tea.
Harry tucked his wand away and picked up his own cup. "Why not? They're dead useful to send quick messages."
"Hmm." Voldemort smiled in a way that made it seem he was hiding a secret that amused him a great deal. "I have other ways to quickly communicate with my followers."
Ah, yeah, Harry remembered his family telling him that Lord Voldemort magically marked his followers. That must be what he was referring to. And while Harry would love to hear more about that kind of magic, he had more urgent matters to consider at that moment. "So I was planning to invite you to visit a fruit tree nursery this afternoon, to start on our orchards. But now it seems that I'll be visiting Gringotts instead."
"One does not have to exclude the other," Voldemort pointed out.
"That's true," Harry said with a small frown. "I have been considering inviting the goblins to live in Magica and I won't mind hearing your opinion on this. I have no experience with goblins, save for that one time I visited my vault after I'd just arrived here."
Voldemort inhaled a deep breath, held it for a few moments and then exhaled slowly. "Now that is a unpredictable bag of kneazles you just opened."
"How so?"
"You must understand, Harry, that goblins and wizards have been at war with each other for centuries, if not millennia. Yes, in between the wars there were truces and peace negotiations and moratoriums and cease-fires before inevitably a new conflict arose and both sides went back to fighting." Voldemort chuckled at Harry's wide-eyed look. "Everyone always complains about Professor Binns and his endless lectures about numerous goblin wars, but at least knowing something of our history does come in handy in situations like this."
"If wizards are constantly fighting goblins then why on earth are you letting them control your money?" Harry asked in sheer astonishment.
"Because that is the one thing we agreed to let them keep, the monopoly on banking in the British wizarding world, while we stripped them of almost all their other rights." Voldemort placed his empty cup on the table and seemed to really enjoy lecturing an eager listener like Harry. "There are plenty of other countries that also use goblins for banking, but there are also plenty who do not. They use gnomes, like Germany, Austria and Switzerland, or they have a wizard-run bank like Russia and most of South-America."
"Okay," Harry said with a thoughtful frown. "So we don't have to use goblins to start a bank if we don't want to."
"We don't," Voldemort said, mouth curling up in a rather blood-thirsty grin. "Of course, since most of our residents to date are British, the goblins might very well claim that their right on a banking monopoly extends to Magica, and if we refuse they might declare war on us."
Harry threw his head back and laughed. "I'd like to see them try."
"They might very well die trying. Goblins love a good battle," Voldemort said, still looking utterly amused by the notion of a brand new wizarding-goblin conflict. "Of course, we could easily sidestep any potential future conflict by offering them the opportunity to open a bank here while giving them back the rights that the British magical government stripped from them."
"What rights are those exactly?" Harry asked, leaning forward a little out of sheer interest. While he'd wipe the floor with any goblins who even thought of attacking his new country, he didn't want to go to war if it wasn't absolutely necessary.
"The most important one is wand-rights," Voldemort said, still more than happy to lecture away. "Another one is that goblins aren't allowed to open any business that isn't a bank. They're also not allowed to live anywhere but the ministry-allocated sites, which is Gringotts in Diagon Alley. There's more, but those are the main issues."
Harry stared at Voldemort with his mouth opened in disbelief. "No wonder they're constantly fighting with you lot. They're not allowed to do anything." Harry frowned in a way that clearly showed he was suddenly filled with determination. "So what do you think their response would be if we offered them all those rights back in Magica?"
Voldemort gave an almost careless shrug. "Then I suppose they'd at least be willing to open a bank here and perhaps even move some of their people here."
"I could offer them a part of Magica where they could start their own community and build their own homes. And they'd be more than welcome to open up businesses alongside everyone else." Harry looked up when he heard a faint knocking sound coming from the front of the castle, but the shuffling gait of Igor told him that his butler was answering the door.
Not long after, Sirius, Regulus and Remus hurried into the library.
"What's with Gringotts giving away our gold?" Sirius asked, a little out of breath.
Harry simply picked up the scroll and handed it to Sirius, who opened it while Remus and Regulus read over his shoulders. "Those fucking goblins," Sirius muttered, his eyes widening in a mild panic as he read through the whole letter.
"It's not the goblins' fault," Remus said, quick to temper Sirius' anger as usual.
"No, it's the fucking ministry's for killing me," Sirius said, rolling the scroll back up with far too much force.
"So since both of us have officially died," Regulus said in a quiet voice, his eyes opened a little too wide as well. "We're now penniless and no longer own any property either."
"Don't be absurd," Harry said, quickly giving his friends a reassuring smile. "I'm not keeping your gold. I'll empty your family's vaults this afternoon and drop the gold off at the manor. And I'll happily sign all the property back over to you as well."
Sirius did look rather relieved at hearing that while he released a shuddering breath. "Thanks, Harry."
Harry waved his gratitude away. "It's your family's fortune, Sirius. I've got plenty of gold myself, I have no need for yours."
"Keep Grimmauld Place for yourself, Harry," Regulus said, much to Sirius' obvious surprise. "Kreacher has already brought everything in it to the manor, so it stands empty. Or how about you sell it, and then use the gold you'll get for it to help grow Magica."
"Reggie," Sirius said in a voice fraught with some very complicated emotions.
"Neither one of us had a happy life in that house," Regulus said while giving his brother an even look. "I'd just as soon see it sold and the proceeds being put to a good cause."
"Yeah, I think that's an excellent idea," Sirius said quietly.
Regulus turned to look down at Harry. "I would very much appreciate it if you could transfer ownership of Kreacher to me personally."
"Sure," Harry said at once, since he had no need for a living house-elf. "I'll give you your elves back as well," he added to Sirius, who seemed equally relieved to have his servants returned to him.
"Kreacher!" Regulus called and almost at once the old house-elf popped into the room, looking confused between Regulus and Harry.
"Master Regulus is no longer being master, how is this being possible." Kreacher pulled hard on his own ears as he hung his head.
"Just tell me what to do," Harry said, worrying the poor house-elf might hurt himself even more in his grief.
"Give him clothing," Regulus said. "That's the fastest way."
Harry shrugged and conjured a black wool sock, which he all but shoved into Kreacher's hands.
"No, no, no," Kreacher muttered, staring at the sock in absolute horror.
"It's okay, Kreacher," Regulus said, crouching in front of the old elf and holding out his hand. "Would you be my elf?"
Kreacher nodded and grabbed Regulus' hand, holding onto it like it was a lifeline.
"I declare you my house-elf, and myself your master," Regulus said in a formal tone, though his eyes shone with happiness. "Do you accept, Kreacher?"
"Kreacher does." At once both wizard and elf smiled and seemed relieved by their renewed bond. Harry realized there was still a lot about house-elves he didn't know. As Hermione had pointed out in her well-argued essay, house-elves were essentially slaves, magically bound to their masters. But as Regulus and Kreacher had just proven, some were perfectly happy with that arrangement.
"Call your elves, Sirius," Harry said, figuring they might as well get it over with.
"Dilby, Nelly, Ollie!" Three elves appeared, looking just as confused as Kreacher had.
Harry decided this was a great opportunity to learn about house-elves from actual house-elves instead of overeager Hogwarts students. "Hi, I'm your new master. Please tell me if you would prefer to be free instead of being bound to me or any other wizard."
Dilby quickly shook his head, while looking at Harry as though he'd just told him to eat a pile of fresh hippogriff dung. "We is not wanting to be free elves! We is being good elves, doing good work for their families." Nelly and Ollie looked just as disgusted by the idea while they stared at Harry with wide eyes.
"I'd give you a home and you could do whatever work you wanted to do, you'd just be free," Harry tried again, wanting to make sure the elves weren't just afraid to end up homeless on the street without a way to earn an income.
"No, Master," Nelly piped up in a squeaky voice. "We is wanting to be part of a family we is serving."
"Alright." And much to the elves horror, Harry handed them socks as well, only for Sirius to jump in at once and bind the elves to himself, which caused poor Nelly to burst into tears out of happiness.
Once all the elves were sent back home again and Harry was even more confused than before about the whole house-elf conundrum, he gestured at some nearby chairs. "Sit down. Violet, tea for three, please!"
After everyone found seats around the coffee table, Violet popped in with a large tray.
Regulus' mouth sank open. "Is that Sunny? Dilby's mother? She's been dead for twenty years."
Remus simply sighed and shook his head at Regulus while Sirius looked a little disgusted at the idea of an undead house-elf serving him tea.
"Her tea is excellent," Voldemort assured him while holding out his own empty cup for a refill.
"Her name is Violet now," Harry said with a happy little smile. "So I have no need for living elves, as you can see. I've got plenty of them for myself."
"There's more?" Regulus asked in disbelief.
"Lavender and Slate. No idea what their names used to be." Harry picked up his own newly refilled cup and sat back in his chair. Voldemort was the only one who didn't look uncomfortable at the idea of an undead servant, and Harry was once again very glad he'd formed some sort of friendship with the man, because having people constantly thinking that the amazing magical feats you performed were disgusting got very old very quickly.
Tentatively, with pursed lips and trembling hands, Regulus picked up one of the little sandwiches Violet had served. He took a careful, very small bite and then his whole face lit up. "Sirius, you have to try these. They are the little cream cheese, walnut and honey sandwiches Sunny used to make." And then Regulus devoured the rest of the sandwich and immediately went back for more.
Before long they were all enjoying the food Violet had provided, and it was indeed delicious and Harry did a little internal happy dance that he'd finally gotten his hands on a servant who could cook. Harry didn't mind cooking for himself, had done it for most of his life, but it was a very nice idea to have someone around who could provide him with some elaborate, hot meals whenever Harry got too busy to look after himself, which was surprisingly frequently whilst building a country.
"Shall we visit Gringotts first?" Voldemort suggested after Violet had refilled the large plate of sandwiches three times and everyone had eaten their fill.
"Yeah, I need to get muggle money anyway," Harry agreed and then added to Sirius. "Don't worry, you'll be filthy rich again by this evening. Write out some contracts for the transferal of property for me to sign. And you might want to prepare some secured storage in your manor for all the gold."
"Yeah, we'll come up with something." And with a pat on Harry's back, Sirius left, looking happily reassured he wasn't suddenly poor and homeless.
V landed on Harry's shoulder and they made their way outside where Voldemort put his hand on Harry's other shoulder and apparated them to the apparition point in Diagon Alley.
Harry gave Voldemort a dubious look and leaned closer to him while some busy shoppers bustled around them. "Should you be looking like yourself out here in public?" Harry asked in a whisper, his breath ghosting across Voldemort's ear.
"I've set up a new identity as my own illegitimate son, remember?" Voldemort offered Harry a cheeky little grin. "Besides, there are very few people who even know that this is what Voldemort used to look like."
"Yeah, alright," Harry easily agreed, assured they wouldn't be jumped by a bunch of fanatical Aurors on their way to the bank. "Are you emptying any vaults as well?"
Voldemort shook his head. "I never had a Gringotts vault in the first place. In my line of work you never want to put your riches in a place where the ministry can easily find it."
"Yeah, that's why I'm closing the Potter vaults as well," Harry agreed in a quiet voice. He'd seen with his own eyes how corrupt the ministry was, not to mention Dumbledore might try to get control over Harry's wealth under some ridiculous guise of guardianship since Harry knew so little about the wizarding world. There was no indication that Dumbledore would do something like that, but after what the old man had pulled with Sirius, Harry knew to expect the unexpected.
When Harry had inspected his vaults after he just arrived, with his parents by his side, there had been nothing amiss that they could see. But that didn't mean Dumbledore or the ministry wouldn't try to control Harry through his gold at some point in the future.
The security goblins at the entrance gave them both only cursory glances before waving them inside. There was a short line at the reception desk but it only took a few minutes before it was their turn.
The young goblin behind the desk barely looked at them. "State your business."
"We would like to speak to Stormaxe," Voldemort said as he leaned a little closer to the goblin, who gave him an utterly offended look.
"Our chief has better things to do than entertain two wizards who don't understand their place," the goblin said through gritted teeth.
Harry shrugged and gave the irate goblin a pleasant smile. "That's fine. I'm Harry Potter and I'm here to empty and close the Potter and Black vaults."
"No more gold," V added in a sharp caw. "No more gold."
The goblin's eyes widened before he quickly slipped off his seat and hurried away. Harry and Voldemort exchanged an amused glance while they waited patiently. The goblin returned after five minutes and gestured at them to follow him. "Stormaxe will see you now."
Harry and Voldemort quietly followed the goblin through a door in the back of the large hall, which led them through a few dimly-lit corridors until they stopped in front of two large, solid door, inlayed with countless shimmering gems. The young goblin pushed the door open and gestured for them to enter.
Stormaxe was an older goblin, his skin full of wrinkles and scars, but his eyes were bright and keen as he watched quietly as his guests entered.
"Mr Potter," Stormaxe said the moment the doors closed again. "And Mr…?"
"Marvolo Gaunt," Voldemort said smoothly, but Stormaxe gave him a narrow-eyed look that suggested he knew exactly who was standing in front of him.
"Please, gentlemen, take a seat."
Harry sat down in the finely carved wooden chair while he looked around the ornate office, with intricate tapestries lining the wall and a desk that was more gold than wood.
"Hammerborn told me you are here to close your vaults," Stormaxe said while giving Harry an even look. "Your business is your own, naturally, but if you don't mind me asking, Mr Potter, why would you close your vault that your family has had with us for centuries."
Harry offered Stormaxe a genial smile and for a moment he was tempted to use his public persona of bombastic loudmouth, but he figured that probably wouldn't go over too well once he got to offering the goblins a place on Magica. "The reason why is very simple, and it has nothing to do with Gringotts' service," Harry said in a reasonable tone. "I am no longer a resident here in Britain, and thus it seemed a good idea to take my wealth with me to my new homeland."
Stormaxe sat up a little, thick brows creasing as he tilted his head. "Then it might please you to know, Mr Potter, that Gringotts has banks in many countries, and that we could simply link your vaults here with one in a new country."
"I am sorry to say that the country I've moved to does not have a local Gringotts office."
This seemed to intrigue Stormaxe even more and he leaned forward to give Harry a curious look. "Might I ask why you've decided to leave Britain, and where you've moved to."
"It's hardly a mystery," Harry said, evening his expression out until a hard mask remained. "The ministry murdered my godfather during a sham of a trial. I want nothing to do with this shithole of a country. And I've moved to Magica."
Stormaxe blinked, and said almost on autopilot, "My condolences for your loss, Mr Potter. The Black family have always been valued customers."
For a few long moments, no one said anything. Voldemort sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other while looking like he was watching a particularly interesting tennis match. And Harry simply stared at Stormaxe, to give the goblin time to process everything and draw his own conclusions. In his time, Harry had negotiated with Kings and Queens, and Warlords and religious leaders, and he'd learned that it was best to let the other party work for any information instead of simply dumping everything on the table right at the start. This way Harry had a much better position for any negotiations that would inevitably take place.
"I am not familiar with this country," Stormaxe said carefully, looking between Voldemort and Harry, probably wondering why these two supposed enemies were sitting amicably side by side in his office.
"It is very new," Harry said, finally allowing a smile back on his face. "Very few people have heard of it."
Something dawned on Stormaxe's face and his eyes grew wide. "Mr Potter," he asked slowly, his voice only a whisper. "Did you… make a new country?"
Harry gave a long, slow nod. "In Santika, where I grew up, all magic was taught. Here in Britain, however, all magic I use on a regular basis is illegal. It seemed like the most effective solution to simply create a country that allows all magic in this world instead of trying to change a corrupt government."
Stormaxe's face did a few complicated things, shifting between amusement and curiosity but also a touch of fear. Then he cleared his throat. "Where is this country located?"
"In the Atlantic," Harry said. "It is an island, currently about half the size of the Isle of Man, but I will add more land as needed once our community grows."
"So it is not simply a private island for your own use," Stormaxe mused.
"No, not at all. So far we've mostly got werewolves living there, aside from me and some friends. But we're busy building houses and encouraging commerce, and our list of applications to move there grows every day."
"And I assume that all the magic that you prefer to use is legal there," Stormaxe concluded.
"No," Harry said with a teasing smile. "All the magic, period, is legal there."
Stormaxe's eyes grew wide again.
Harry decided to throw out a bit of bait for the goblin chief. "All magic for all magical beings is legal there. Magica is its own country, beholden to no other laws. All that we care about is magic, all of it. And there are no immediate muggles, so no one needs to hide themselves the moment they leave their homes."
Stormaxe fell back in his chair with a deep sigh, clearly overwhelmed with this new information. It amused Harry to no end that apparently the idea of a country that allowed all magic was such a shocking idea to all different kinds of people of the wizarding world. "This is unprecedented," Stormaxe muttered, shaking his head. "I am unsure what to make of it."
"We get that a lot," Harry said with a chuckle. "But the truth is that there are lots of magical people, like the werewolves, who are marginalized in magical societies around the world and who will gladly live in a country where they can work and live freely."
"It certainly sounds idyllic," Stormaxe said, seemingly having recovered from the initial shock. "But what is your motivation? Especially considering your apparent partnership with Mr… Gaunt here."
Voldemort sat up a little as he gave Stormaxe a patient look, answering before Harry could. "My main motivation for going against the ministry has first and foremost always been allowing all magic to be used again, to lift the ban on all the different branches of magic that the ministry deemed too dangerous over the centuries."
"That might be so, but you were also known for your quest for blood-purity and dominating all other magical races," Stormaxe pointed out, sounding utterly reasonable.
Voldemort ducked his head a little as though suddenly feeling self-conscious. Harry wasn't sure if he was acting or not, which was quite the feat. "Ah, the folly of youth, Chief Stormaxe. I find that as long as I can live in a country where I can practice all magic and I don't have to worry about breaking the Statute of Secrecy every five minutes, my desire to rule the entire world has diminished greatly."
When it seemed Stormaxe wasn't quite sure what to say to that, Harry decided to offer his own point of view. "I'm a necromancer. That alone should explain my motivations for creating Magica."
"Indeed," Stormaxe agreed with a small nod. "It has been a very long time since the world has seen one of your kind, Mr Potter. Once word of this gets out, many will seek to destroy you."
"I am aware," Harry said and then gave Stormaxe a rueful smile. "That is one of the reasons I want to empty my vaults today. I don't want to give my enemies an opportunity to harm me in any way."
"Understood."
"But," Harry said, finally ready to make an offer now that he'd seen how Stormaxe responded to the idea of Magica. "Gringotts would always be welcome to open an office on Magica. Right now we are a small community, but we are growing almost daily and before long there will be enough people living there to make running a bank profitable."
Stormaxe gave a thoughtful nod, but he kept many other emotions hidden, Harry was sure. "I thank you for the invitation, and I will put it before the goblin council at the first opportunity."
"Thank you for considering our invitation, Chief Stormaxe," Harry said with a polite smile. "You can reach me by owl if you have any further questions."
And that was the end of the meeting, as the young Goblin named Hammerborn reappeared to take them to the vaults. Harry was pleased with this first meeting. There had been polite conversation, no threats or violence, and Stormaxe seemed genuinely interested in what Magica could offer the goblins. Harry was sure that it would take some serious negotiations before Magica would ever have its own goblin bank, but that was how these games were always played.
Voldemort also seemed content enough with the result of the meeting and he returned Harry's smile with one of his own.
The Potter vault was full of gold, a small fortune to be sure, which Harry magicked into one of the many expanded crates he always carried in his satchel. But the Potter vault had nothing on the Black vault.
Harry's eyes widened as he stepped inside the Black family vault and even Voldemort made a little noise of disbelief. While the Potter vault had contained stacks and trunks of gold, the Black vault had mountains of it. And on top of that there were trunks of gemstones and countless silver decorations and many portraits of severe looking Black ancestors. There were also plenty of closed trunks that held who knew what.
"Aren't you regretting giving this all back to your godfather sight unseen?" Voldemort whispered into Harry's ear, his tone teasing.
Harry threw his head back and laughed. "I'd be lying just a little bit if I said no. No wonder Sirius was hyperventilating at the idea of losing this." Harry got out many crates this time and it took him a while to fill them all. He also marked them all with some magic so he wouldn't mix up his family's possessions with Sirius'.
"Ours, ours," V cawed as he hopped from one golden mountain to the next as Harry was busy loading up his trunks. "All ours."
"Alas, V, we're giving it back to the rightful owner," Harry said and then chuckled at V's disbelieving look while he almost slid off a large pile of Galleons in surprise.
Last was Sirius' personal vault, which held less gold than the Potter vault had done, so Harry was finished with it before long. On the way out of the bank both Harry and Voldemort exchanged some gold to muggle money.
"Where is this plant nursery?" Voldemort asked the moment they stood outside again.
"Oxfordshire," Harry said while blinking against the sudden afternoon light. "It's a muggle nursery, but they have lots of different types of trees."
"Then we should dress for the occasion." Voldemort pulled out his wand. "May I?" At Harry's nod, Voldemort deftly transfigured Harry's linen and leather clothing into a casual black muggle suit, and then he did the same thing to his own clothing. "This way we will blend in a bit better."
As soon as they reached the apparition point, Harry apparated them to an empty, hidden corner of the nursery where no one would see them arrive and they could join the other visitors without being noticed. There were a few other customers about but overall it was quiet around them.
"It has been a while since I walked among muggles," Voldemort said softly as they navigated their way through a whole lot of tightly packed conifers in search of fruit trees.
"I still find it strange that I cannot use magic just because others don't have it," Harry said, instantly feeling chagrined again now that he was reminded of that. He'd never had that problem before.
"I take it that Santika was a primitive world," Voldemort said, though he didn't sound like he was trying to insult Harry's previous home.
"Define primitive."
"What I mean is that the muggles in Santika hadn't advanced in technology yet," Voldemort explained patiently. "That they hadn't invented machines yet."
Harry nodded as he now understood what Voldemort was getting at. "You're right, they hadn't. There were no cars or electricity or kitchen appliances, which is what I remember from the few years I spent living with muggles."
"In this world, muggles are advancing their technologies at an alarming pace," Voldemort said, glancing at Harry with eyes that shone with something that might very well be worry. "When I grew up in the muggle world, some sixty years ago, the muggles fought in a world war. That war lasted six years and 75 million people died. That includes soldiers and civilians."
Harry walked straight into a pine tree, tripping over the bucket it stood in, V flying up into the air quickly to save himself. Harry barely caught himself or he would have faceplanted right there and then. "How many?" he asked in complete disbelief as he stared at Voldemort while his head suddenly felt a little light. "How is that even possible. I've seen plenty of battles, and plenty of wars, and the most that were every lost were a few thousand soldiers and a few hundred civilians."
Voldemort dipped his head while he folded his hands in front of him, the picture of solemnity. "That war was sixty years ago, Harry. The muggles have invented many new and far more destructive weapons since then. Nowadays they could destroy a city the size of London with a single bomb."
Harry swallowed, not liking one bit where this conversation was going. "What are you really saying here?"
Voldemort's tight smile was as far removed from amused as it was possible to be. "What I'm saying is that Magica is much more than simply a country where all magic is allowed. It might very well be the last safe haven for all magic-kind once the muggles discover us. And they will, Harry. They will."