Disclaimer - I still don't own anything :P
Chapter 2: Getting Ahead Of The Game
Harry watched as the clock counted down the seconds to his sixteenth birthday. He wondered if he would have any cards this year, or even a letter of acknowledgement from one of his friends, or if it would be too dangerous for them to contact him.
The only letters he had received from them thus far into the holiday had made him so mad, he hadn't bothered to read the last batch. Much as he'd received last summer, the letters were full of the same meaningless platitudes and non-information, with an added bonus from Hermione, who added a line each time encouraging him to talk about his grief.
He thought—he'd hoped—that they had learnt the hard way last year, that keeping him in the dark only caused problems. He understood that owls could be unreliable, but hadn't Dumbledore proven last summer, with the letter to Petunia, that he could send letters easily and safely, straight to the addressee?
As Harry sighed, the clock struck midnight. He was sixteen.
He considered attempting to sleep, but before he could so much as move, a regal looking owl flew through his open window and landed smoothly on his bed. Harry smiled slightly, and with careful fingers, he untied the letter.
He was about to offer the owl one of Hedwig's treats when it hopped up to the window and departed back the way it had come. Harry shrugged and turned the letter over in his hands.
He didn't recognise the writing on the outside of the envelope. The parchment was clearly quality, and it just felt expensive. Suddenly feeling slightly uneasy, Harry wished he was allowed to cast magic outside of school, if only to see if he could detect anything unfriendly on the letter.
Throwing caution to the wind, he slid his finger beneath the flap of the envelope to break the seal, and pulled the letter out.
Dear Mr Potter,
My name is Alex Jackson. I apologise for writing such a letter on your birthday, but it's the earliest that I've had the opportunity to contact you, and I believe this to be important enough that waiting is not worth it. I'd like to get ahead of the game, so to speak.
As is customary in the Wizarding World, all of the Ancient and Noble houses have personal solicitors on retainer to their families. I am unsure of your knowledge of the older customs of our world, so pardon me if I'm explaining anything to you that you already know.
My father, George Jackson, was your father's—and your Grandfather before him—family solicor, and before him, Edward Jackson was the Potter Family solicitor. It's been a source of pride in my family to serve the Potters for decades, and I'm hoping to continue that if I am able.
An Heir to an Ancient and Noble house comes of age on his sixteenth birthday, if he is the only person able to take on the family mantle. While still legally underage, now that you're sixteen, you're able to take on some of the responsibilities of your family and appropriating a solicitor falls under the scope of that. As does business at Gringotts, and as of midnight, your family vaults, plus any afforded to you in other peoples wills, will have fallen into your control.
Given your situation, a petition of legal emancipation can be filed on your behalf to either the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or the Minister of Magic.
I have been following your life as best as I've been able, through both independent sources and through the Prophet, though I know to take most of what is written in that rag with a pinch of salt; particularly those articles written by Miss Skeeter.
I have a file on you that I'd like to go through with you, should you choose to accept me as your solicitor, and have planned out a few options depending on how you feel about the amount of control—or lack of—you'd like in your life, given your relatively young age.
Before anything else, I'd like to arrange a meeting with you, to discuss things more thoroughly. I realise you live in a Muggle neighbourhood, and that there might be a problem getting a time and place to fit you.
Perhaps a house elf would be a good fit for you, but that can be handled later if, or when, you have the need for one.
If you are interested in a meeting, please send me a letter within the next week, as we have a lot to get through, and not a lot of time before you must return to school in September.
Yours, most sincerely,
Alex Jackson
Harry read through the letter twice before laying it on the bed in front of him. Thoughts were whizzing through his head. Why had no one told him any of this? He hadn't even known his family was an Ancient and Noble one, never mind anything else.
He picked the letter up again and read through it slowly, trying to get his mind around the information he had received. Suddenly he had an idea.
"Dobby," he whispered, hoping the crazy house elf would hear him.
A slight crack echoed around the silent room and Harry cringed slightly, listening carefully for movement from his relatives. Dobby stood before him, a huge smile on his face, waiting to be addressed by Harry.
"Hello Dobby, how are you?" Harry asked quietly.
The elfs eyes welled with tears. "Dobby is fine, thank you Harry Potter. Why is you calling for Dobby? Is you needing Dobby to do something?"
"Actually Dobby, I was wondering if you would like to bond with me? It's not a problem if you don't, I know you like freedom, but I was just wondering..." Harry trailed off, realising he was rambling.
"Harry Potter really wants Dobby? Dobby would love to be Harry Potter's elf."
Harry smiled. "That's great. Erm... I'm not sure how to...um...bond with you? What do I need to do?"
"Dobby does the Bonding, Master Harry Potter must accept the magic, and then the bond is true. Is Master Harry Potter ready?"
Harry nodded and a few seconds later felt a very strange feeling in his core, a strand of magic, almost knocking against him, waiting to be accepted. Harry accepted the magic to him, and felt a throb before the feeling disappeared completely.
"Master Harry Potter sir, Dobby is so very happy you askes to be my master. Is there anything you need?"
"I need you to deliver a letter for me, if you can. It's for Alex Jackson, a Wizarding solicitor. He's hoping to become my family solicitor, but I need to meet with him before I agree to anything. Can you deliver the letter, and then take me to meet with him when the time comes?"
"Of course Dobby can, Master Harry Potter sir. Is the letter ready to take now sir?"
"Not yet, I need to write it. Give me a few minutes."
Harry wrote out a quick reply, stating his eagerness to meet with the solicitor, and his ability to get to any meeting at any time Alex might have free. He gave the letter to Dobby and watched as the little elf disappeared.
He'd instructed Dobby to ask if Mr Jackson wanted to reply immediately, and if so, to wait for it.
Harry lay back on the bed, waiting for Dobby to return, still turning the information from the letter over in his mind. He should have been informed that he was about to become the Head of House of an Ancient and Noble family, surely?
Why hadn't Dumbledore mentioned anything about it? Or even Professor McGonagall; she was his Head of House at Hogwarts, and had known his parents quite well.
Another owl flew through the window, and Harry glanced at it. Another owl he didn't recognise. This one landed on the table, a scroll tied to it's leg, and Harry huffed before he got up to release the letter.
He recognised the loopy writing immediately this time, and hope made a home in his chest. Maybe this was Dumbledore explaining exactly what was going on? Opening the scroll, Harry read.
Dear Harry,
If it is convenient to you, I shall call to your residence this coming Friday at eleven in the evening to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of the school holidays.
If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way. I shall explain more fully when I see you.
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,
I am, most sincerely yours,
Albus Dumbledore.
Harry wasn't really sure what to make of the letter. The Headmaster had never written to him in the summer before, nor had he ever taken the time to deliver him personally to his friends, or even Grimmauld Place.
And what on earth could the man possibly want his assistance with? It wasn't like he was allowed to use magic outside of school, even with the Headmaster there.
As for going to the Weasley's, Harry would be happy to see his friends, truly, but he didn't really want to spend the rest of the summer being mollycoddled by Mrs Weasley, or handled with kid-gloves because they were all worried about his grief over losing Sirius.
What he really wanted was to find out more about his own family, and what it meant to be the heir to an Ancient and Noble family.
Nevertheless, he replied in the affirmative to Dumbledore. If the man wasn't going to tell Harry about his history and new responsibilities, then Harry saw no reason to concern him with the information that he was finding things out elsewhere.
He tied the letter to the waiting owl and watched it fly through the window. He couldn't help but notice that there were no other owls in the sky; there was still nothing from either of his best friends.
He turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Dobby standing close by the bed, holding out a letter. With one hand pressed to his chest over his rapidly beating heart, Harry took the letter with a murmured gratitude and flipped it open.
Dear Mr Potter,
Thank you for such a speedy response. I admit to not expecting a reply so quickly, nor for the delivery to be via house elf already. That solves many of the problems I foresaw about keeping in contact.
If it suits you, your elf can fetch you to my apartment tomorrow (August 1st) at ten o'clock in the morning, and we can go from there. In the meantime, if you could prepare a short biography of your life until now for me, and make a note of any pressing questions you'd like answers too, it will make things much easier and faster.
Yours sincerely,
Alex Jackson.
Harry folded the letter and slipped it beneath his pillow along with the first letter he'd received from Mr Jackson.
He lay down on the bed and pulled the light sheets up to his waist. The warmth of the night meant that, thankfully, he was warm enough with the pitiful supplies given to him by his Aunt and Uncle.
Taking his glasses off, he said goodnight to Dobby and turned on his side, yawning. Despite his doubt that he'd sleep, he was exhausted and it didn't take long for him to drop off to sleep.
He'd deal with the biography when he got up. Despite Mr Jackson asking for a short summary, Harry thought that it would still likely take him a while. After all, Philosopher's Stones, basilisks and the Goblet of Fire would be hard to summarise in a short fashion.
That night, for the first time since the Department of Mysteries, he didn't dream of Sirius.