Not Every Glitter is Gold
The following day went quite smoothly, indeed, almost to plan. Harry found it quite relaxing to have a day with nothing to deal with but things that had already been scheduled the day before. After meeting with the council he had his new diamond contact lenses fitted. As promised, Guild Master Isabella fused them to his eyes with permanent sticking charms that melded seamlessly with his own magical core, and taught him how to raise and lower the various visual enhancements she had woven into the tiny diamond lenses.
Harry thanked her profusely before summoning his coach, taking Hermione and Sable with him to visit the Murtlap farm. Calling it a farm was a bit of an exaggeration, as the Murtlap herd was essentially allowed to roam wild amongst the waves of a narrow cove, their herder shrieking at them in mermish from the shoreline. They still had to come ashore to sleep, if nothing else, so it was at night that he harvested them.
Harry was more than happy to listen to the man's troubles as he showed them round the little collection of sheds that dotted the shoreline and demonstrated his trade. The Island's supply of pickled Murtlap was produced here, processed by the man's small family – there was not quite enough to be worth trading abroad, he claimed, though quite enough to sate the island's needs.
"Why not expand the herd?" Hermione had asked him.
"Not enough room in the cove," he explained, "And we can not let them out unwatched – they might not survive to return."
Hermione nodded in reply, accepting this fact whilst Harry grew pensive, filing the problem away for later review. Unfortunately, Sable had to call the tour to a halt.
"My Lord, we need to return to the castle," she reminded them, "Noon is approaching, the next step of your ritual."
"Abandoning a ritual half done will have unpleasant consequences," Hermione interjected, "Master, we really don't want to find out what will happen if you miss a step."
"My apologies, Good sir," Harry sighed, "But we must cut your tour short. Thank you for your time."
"My time is yours, My Lord," he bowed in reply, a broad smile fixed upon his face, "All hail my Lord Caer Azkaban! Long may he rule!"
Summoning his coach with a snap, Harry thanked the man again before departing to greet the ravens.
. . .
Harry enjoyed chatting to the Ravens, letting them know how Sable and Hermione had reacted to their news, and giving them a few questions to try answering next time. He also invited the flock to spend more time with him, to have a representative nearby more often than not. Though he could not understand the comments his offer generated, it was clear that he had provoked some interest. It was not until they sat down to lunch, however, that Sable dropped her bombshell.
"My Lord," she began, "Yesterday you had your researcher report on what she found investigating the family title you inherited. Today I wish to make my own report, on your financial situation."
"Of course, Sable," Harry agreed as they settled around the table.
"By and large, it is well. The Azkaban Vault is open once more, the various stop-gap measures implemented by the stewards have been consigned to history." she began, "The Island's finances are better than any time in living memory. Your own finances may benefit from a degree of consolidation, unless you plan to keep the lines separate."
"Undecided, for now," Harry replied, "We can revisit that idea later."
"Of course, My Lord." she nodded agreement, "However, my examination of the House Potter finances threw up several anomalies. For one, House Potter owns several buildings, all of which are rented out to others. The records seem to indicate that the rent is being paid – yet I can find no sign of it entering the Potter Vaults. Your trust Vault has been filled to a value of 2,200 Galleons on your birthday, every year since 1981, yet it has been completely drained of all funds the day before, without fail, since 1982. I was under the impression that you remained unaware of the vault until 1991?"
"That is correct, Sable." Harry replied tightly, "If I'd been aware that I had money, I would happily have claimed it and left the Dursley's for good."
"The Dursely who were being paid 200 Galleons a month for your upkeep?"
"WHAT!" Harry and Hermione shouted in perfect unison.
"Another anomaly," Sable explained, "The Dursley family received Number 4, Private Drive, rent-free for taking you in, and 200 Galleons from the Potter Vaults for your upkeep. It is all documented, though I can not find who authorised the transaction."
"No Potter," Harry growled, "I'd be lucky if the Dursley's spent so much as One Galleon on my upkeep in Fifteen years. They were always complaining about how expensive I was to 'care' for as well."
"I see," Sable's normally serious demeanour had taken on a darker edge, "I had requested a meeting with the Potter Account Manager to explain this, but the Goblin is refusing to meet save with the Head of House Potter. He has demanded a meeting with you this afternoon, at two o'clock."
"Then we should, of course, honour his request," Harry replied with a grim smile, "Of course, we should also strive to make a serious impression..."
. . .
Later that day, the thunder of hooves drew attention to Gringotts bank. They were drowned out by a thunderclap as the Lord's Coach of Azkaban burst out of the ether at 13:45, precisely. Two guards leapt down from their positions behind the coach to flank the door, Singlesticks resting lightly on their shoulders, whilst a third stood on the other side to ensure the coach remained undisturbed.
The second the guards reached their positions, the door to the coach snapped open. Three shadow-cloaked figures alighted from the coach, led by the young Lord clad in Argent sur Noir. As he stepped down two more guards apparated in, precisely aligned with the first two and five feet closer to the bank. The three swept smoothly up the steps, as more guards crisply apparated into position, lining their advance on the door. The last two held the door for him as he entered the bank without breaking stride, four guards falling in behind him as the remainder marched to a position ringing the coach, their boots breaking the otherwise perfect silence.
"Not bad for a last minute addition," Harry thought at Sable as the three of them strode through the silently gaping crowds.
"The guards of Azkaban are well trained, My Lord," she replied, "Making a 'serious impression', as you put it, is part of the job description."
"Your own poise and cloak helped, master." Hermione added, "You certainly make a somewhat deadly impression."
. . .
After showing the letter demanding their attendance to a nervous goblin, the small group was shown to a comfortable waiting room until Account Manager Sliprot summoned them five minutes later. Two of the guards took up positions just outside the manager's office as the others swept in, guards first. Lord Azkaban and his assistants seated themselves before the desk of the suddenly uncomfortable goblin as their guards stood against the wall, alert and wary.
"What is the meaning of this!" Sliprot tried to bluster, "I am awaiting a very important client and..."
"More important than Lord Potter?" a female voice inquired from under a hood, as another proffered his hand, the Potter Signet showing clearly.
"How did you..."
"By right of Blood and Magic." replied a second female voice, as the signet bearer lowered his hood.
Emerald eyes stared at the goblin from under a lightning scarred forehead. Harry's thick black hair had been somewhat tamed by Sable and a number of potions. Despite the grim finality in his eyes, there was no doubting who he was as Hermione tossed the letter onto the desk. As the goblin's eyes flicked to the missive, he heard the Boy-Who-Lived complete the picture.
"I am here as you demanded, Account Manager Sliprot." Harry intoned, "I will require the full details of any and all discrepancies in the Potter Account, but for now I will settle for a concise summary."
"Get out!" Sliprot Demanded.
"Your letter stated that you would deal with none but the Account Holder..." Sable pressed.
"In person," Hermione added, "You also demanded his immediate presence."
"I am he," Harry informed the Goblin, "And I am here. Please don't waste my time any further."
"YOU ARE NOT ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!" Sliprot bellowed, "GET OUT OF MY OFFICE NOW!"
Harry's answering glare was hard and cold, but they were interrupted by a polite knock at the door. One of Harry's guards answered the door, and informed him that there was a squad of Goblin warriors waiting to escort him out of the bank.
"Begone, Potter," spat Sliprot, "You'll find no succour here!"
"Indeed," Harry murmured, "One has to assume the rot runs throughout Gringotts entire."
Rising, he walked through the open door to meet the warriors who seemed torn between apprehension and disgust. Harry surprised them with a slight bow to the warrior leading them, his tone becoming respectful as soon as the door swung shut.
"Excuse me, sir, but could I prevail upon you to convey a request to the Gringotts chief?" Harry held the goblin's gaze as he explained, "I would meet with him before I am forced to publicly withdraw my fortunes from this establishment."
"When?" the goblin growled.
"Today," Harry answered immediately, "I will not delay past sunset."
"Very well," the goblins were clearly far from happy, "You will have to wait under guard until he is ready."
"And I am more than happy to do so," Harry answered smoothly, "Though perhaps somewhere our presence would be slightly less disruptive?"
The warrior grunted, then led them to a spartan room. The walls were panelled in a thin crust of pale wood and lined with hard benches, the floor bare but for large flagstones. The Azkaban guards took up positions in the four corners, staring impassively into the room, leaving the goblins to stand around the doorway, glaring distrustfully at the humans. Unconcerned, Harry settled on a bench, with Hermione and Sable either side. Their faces shrouded in shadow, they passed the time conversing telepathically among themselves.
. . .
It was almost 2 hours later that they were finally shown into the presence of High King Ragnok. He was seated on a granite throne in an echoing cavern of finely polished stones. Glancing around, Harry saw stalactites wrought of semiprecious stone, each carved with scenes that seemed to change as he passed. He was highly impressed by the skill and dedication shown, though he was more concerned with hundred or so Goblin warriors lined up on wither side of the cavern. Thirty to one odds would likely not prove favourable if this meeting turned ugly.
"What do you want, Human!" Ragnok demanded as soon as the stopped fifteen feet from his throne.
"To ascertain whether the claims of corruption rampant in Gringotts is true." Harry replied, rising from his half-bow and dropping his hood.
"Explain yourself." the Goblin hissed.
"From the beginning," Harry "Last week I came to this branch to visit my vault, and received my first ever official correspondence from Gringotts. The letter was hand-delivered to me in the bank's lobby. In response to Senior Solicitor Snaphook's letter, I came a couple of days later to undergo the rite of inheritance. I inherited thirteen titles, with concomitant accounts, chief among them was Potter. My assistant has spent much of the past week going over the parchmentwork that has accrued on the accounts and drew my attention to a number of discrepancies in the Potter Account I inherited from my parents."
"Such as?" the goblin growled, curious despite himself.
"Rent being paid to House Potter and not received by House Potter," Sable replied, "My Lord's personal trust vault being emptied without his knowledge or consent, payments being made for services not rendered, anomalies of that nature."
"You should raise such trifling details with the Account Manager, not me!" Ragnok grumbled, despite the rumblings of the crowd.
"We did," Hermione replied, "The reply was a letter stating that he would only deal with the Account Holder, in person, and demanding a meeting today at 2 PM."
"A meeting which began with Account Manager Sliprot throwing me out of his office for 'Not being Albus Dumbledore'," Harry added in a penetrating whisper, "And concluded with him claiming that the bank would not help me, being as it was complicit in this crime."
"He what?" Ragnok thundered into the deafening silence.
"He blocked my account, sold it to Dumbledore, and claimed Gringotts' approval." Harry pressed, "Given the seriousness of the crime, I can only really take it to you. If you will publicly support him I will have no hope of reversing this crime, and so must abandon Gringotts. Publicly."
"Slashsack," the goblin king snarled, deep and menacing, "Get Sliprot here, NOW!"
The leader of the warrior squad that had escorted Harry there left at a run, leaving behind a decidedly grim atmosphere and seven perplexed wizards.
"Lord Potter," High King Ragnok spoke with tight anger, "You may not be aware of this, but this cavern has long been used for … difficult parley. As such, it contains enchantments for safety and honesty. I therefore know your words to be true, and though we will still need to determine the full extent of this travesty, I assure you that I knew nothing of this. What is more, I Will get to the bottom of the matter."
"That is all I ask, your Majesty," Harry replied softly, "I have other sources of gold, after all – it is not my finances that are at risk – but I refuse to have my name besmirched by such blatant dishonesty,"
"You seem easily convinced, despite your earlier bluster."
"Magic," Harry replied with a smile, "I can see that you are not trying to mislead me. More than that, though, remains to be seen."
It was at that point that Account Manager Sliprot was thrown into the chamber. He fell to the smooth stone floor beside Harry's party, visibly paling when he took in the assemblage. The other goblins glared at him in disgust, and the anger of his king was palpable. Kneeling beside Harry he spoke in a nervous stutter:
"How might I serve you my liege?"
"It has been brought to our attention that your conduct as Account Manager has been unprofessional and, more than that, illegal!" Ragnok replied, "An accounting has been demanded of us, and quite rightly so. What have you to say for yourself?"
"Great majesty, this human must have lied!"
"Did you refuse me access to the Potter Account on the grounds that I am not Albus Dumbledore?" Harry asked.
"No!" the Goblin screamed, but his face immediately turned fluorescent green.
"Lord Potter has passed the test of truth," Ragnok informed them, "You failed."
Snarling in desperation, Sliprot leapt upon Harry, drawing a dagger from his sleeve. Harry pivoted on one foot, raising his cane to meet the strike, whilst two of his guards turned to intercept the attacker. Fortunately, the wards on the chamber worked as intended – Sliprot dropped his dagger howling in pain, though Harry's group remained strangely untouched. As Sliprot collapsed, weaponless to the floor, he looked up into the hard green eyes of his victim. Two thick wooden shafts blocked his approach, the air humming with some kind of shield, but Harry himself held a foot long blade in an easy grip, almost daring him to strike.
"Well played, Lord Potter," High King Ragnok laughed as his guards seized Sliprot, "Well played indeed."
"Thank you, your Majesty," Harry inclined his head again, "But how?"
"The wards against weapons were specifically designed to allow the ruler of this chamber to place his guard here," he explained, "As such, they prevent weapons being drawn, but do not affect weapons that are already being carried in hand, such as yours. It is amusing to see that you come with guards whilst bearing weapons of your own."
"No slight to the warriors of Azkaban, I assure you." Harry answered as he returned the blade to his cane, "I am merely unaccustomed to the presence of competent protectors."
"A tale and a half I am sure!" the goblin laughed, "Much as I would like to hear it I must tend to more pressing matters. I will take over as manager for the Potter account and oversee a full audit immediately. Please bear in mind that your account will have to be frozen until the audit is complete."
"As I said, I have alternative sources of funding," Harry agreed, "Though if this is anything like I think it is, you may want to investigate other accounts tied to either Albus Dumbledore or Sliprot."
"Sliprot will be thoroughly interrogated, my Lord." Ragnok assured him, "Our experts are most efficient. After that, I am ordering routine investigations into All accounts, regardless of who manages them. If there are any more Sliprots in Gringotts, We Will Find Them."
"Thank you, King Ragnok," indicating his assistant, "Sable has our preliminary findings, which should help some. You can contact us via Azkaban when you are done. Mail sent to me elsewhere has a nasty habit of 'disappearing'. May our dealings be as fruitful as they are honest, Majesty."
"May they indeed," Ragnok replied, nodding for Slashsack to show them out.