Ashes in your mouth
Chaper Nine. Letters are nice, right?In which our hero gets mail, and discovers being a celebrity is even worse than he thought it was.
Harry got a letter from Bill several days later, halfway through breakfast.
'Harry,
Thought to check up on your mail delivery.
You've got a mail redirection curse on you.
This letter contains a rune sequence that when charged will ruin the mail redirect.
Don't overpower it.
George suggests not trying very hard.
Once you've done, reply and we'll send a beacon to wherever your mail goes, portkey there and deal with it.a
Apropos to your curse-breaking engagement with Gringotts,
we've succeeded in creating an anti-ritual. It's messy and complicated,
and the customer has volunteered to test it before it gets used on other parties.
Bill Weasley
Cursebreaker'
And then on the bottom of the parchment was a strange drawing, all triangles at strange angles, with runes drawn very precisely all over it.
Harry put his wand to the weird diagram and pushed magic in… the triangles lit with blue light, and the runes … rotated, and Harry felt a strange sensation, like someone was pouring cold custard over his head, that stopped with a feeling like he'd fallen into nettles.
The seventh years just down the table asked "Potter?"
"Runes to stop a post-owl charm" said Harry "From a cursebreaker I know." He tried to sound nonchalant, and idly put his hand in his hair. He couldn't feel any custard. You never could tell with Weasleys.
Harry got up from breakfast, and went to class, and nothing awful happened all day.
Apart from the transfiguration assignment. Fifteen inches on stone to metal transfiguration.
The next morning, over breakfast, a large brown owl dropped a letter into Harry's scrambled eggs. Harry pulled it out and cleaned it with a charm, and opened it.
'Slytherin,
You have had a transfer of ten thousand galleons to your family vault 432.
In keeping with Gringotts policy on large transfers we have sent you written notification.
Your current balance is GG 10,421 S 48/5.
Snapdrawer for Gingotts.
'
Harry folded the letter shut. He'd got paid. He swallowed. Greengrass had actually paid. Clearly Bill and Fleur had managed it.
He put the letter in his bookbag and went back to his cooling scrambled eggs.
He was just finishing some tea when another brown owl dropped a letter on his toast, squishing into the marmalade.
Harry picked it out by one corner, cleaned it, and vanished his toast.
He opened the letter.
'Mister Harry Potter,
Gringotts charges for cursebreaking
One hundred and Eighteen hours GG 5 per hour
One meeting room GG 1 per hour
The fee has been forwarded to collections for recovery.
Arnold Esseien, Gringotts Cursebreaking Coordinator
'
Harry sighed. At least Fleur and Bill got paid. Hopefully Gringotts could work out how to collect the fee without coming after him in person.
Harry jammed the letter into his bookbag, got a new piece of toast and started putting marmalade on it, and had to dodge another brown owl with a letter.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'It's good to get mail' he thought to himself.
It was from Gringotts, charging him a galleon for fee clearance on top of the huge bill. Bloody goblins.
He was just finishing his last cup of tea when a letter fell from a small tawny owl onto his empty plate.
Harry opened it, noticing the glances from the seventh years.
'Dear Harry,
I know you never reply to my letters,
But I'll always be here for you.
Murgatroyd Pindle
XOXO'
And then photographs fell out of the letter.
Harry blushed, and pushed the letter down to cover the letters.
He peeked under the letter at the top photograph, where a middle-aged witch in a nightgown smiled at Harry. He pressed the letter down firmly, blushing and slid the letter and photo off the table, and rammed it deep into his bookbag.
"Someone send you photos?" asked Spinks, slightly sarcastically. Harry looked over at Spinks "I had no idea people sent those" said Harry. "It's dreadful."
"Well you are famous" said Spinks "We were wondering why you get so little mail, really."
"I had some sort of mail diversion since I was a child" said Harry honestly.
At dinner, three owls dropped letters on Harry's meal. After the second one, he cast a protego totalis over himself.
He put the letters in his robe pocket, determined open them later, in private. After doing the research for that blasted Transfiguration essay.
By Saturday morning, Harry was receiving two dozen letters a day.
He gave in, dropped them in a conjured sack and had Kreacher deal with it. The old house-elf did that finger-clicking thing and filtered his mail for curses and portkeys and things and left the mail at home, where, Harry was content to ignore it. He could deal with it on Saturday afternoon, suitably fortified with a few stiff drinks at the Hogs Head.
Which of course, meant taking a carriage to Hogsmeade. A group of seventh year girls crowded into the carriage with him, all smiling and giggling. Harry scrunched himself up as small as he could and refused to meet their eyes. They had all been firsties when He'd been a sixth year, after all.
Harry got out of the carriage, and strode off for the Hogs Head. The seventh year girls followed… then slowed and stopped as it became clear where he was going. Harry felt a surge of satisfaction, The Hogs Head might smell of piss and stale booze and vomit, but at least most Hogwarts students avoided it.
Harry eyed Abe, who poured Harry a normal-sized glass of fire-whiskey, which Harry paid a sickle for. He sat at a table in the corner and sipped, feeling the warmth of the alcohol filling his belly.
Four firewhiskey's later, he felt quite fortified for a trip to the manor to deal with his mail.
Harry stood up and walked carefully out of the Hog's Head.
Back in Hogsmeade proper, there were students moving around, and Harry apparated back to Black Manor. The front hall smelt of mildew, for some reason.
Harry looked around, and there, on the hall table was a pile of mail. He picked it up and went to the study, sat on the couch, put his feet up and started sorting letters.
Gringotts had very efficiently billed Harry for another ten galleons for more curse-breaker hours.
One letter had a weird stamp on it, and Harry opened it.
It was, apparently from Gabrielle Delacour, and she'd included a few photographs. Photo's, Harry thought that her parents would be very upset to find out about. Harry incinerated them before he er… felt the urge to start a collection of dirty pictures. They'd been disturbing enough, and Harry didn't want to get arrested for child pornography or something.
Harry sighed, and went to the desk to sit like an adult dealing with a huge pile of boring mail.
He got a parchment sheet and scribbled out a reply to Gabrielle.
'Gabrielle Delacour,
Dear Miss Delacour.
I received our letter, and no, I do not want to have you as a girlfriend.
I understand that you appreciate being saved from the lake as a small child, however, you're still five years younger than me, and underage.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter.
'
Harry addressed the letter and put it on his desk, in what he mentally called his 'out pile.'
Hogsmeade had an owl-post office, after all.
Three letters from weird people, wanting Harry to endorse their even weirder plans later, he got to a cream envelope with green lettering.
'Harry Potter-Black
Dear Sir,
Thank you for your recent help with our medical issue.
We have paid your designated Gringotts vault four three two, and all the patients are uninjured by the procedure. We understand you used family magic to gather information, and that it was to quote 'Terrifying.' Nevertheless, the house of Greengrass owes you a debt of gratitude, in addition to the hefty fee you charged.
Regards,
Cyrus Greengrass head of the house of Greengrass.'
Harry smiled to himself, and put the letter in a new pile he mentally called 'file that.'
Eight more letters, including a letter from Rita Skeeter, inviting Harry for an exclusive interview later, and Harry was getting used to fan mail.
Witch Weekly had sent what looked like a form letter inviting him for an interview. An almost identical letter from Teen Witch Weekly was also an interview invitation. He put those with the fan mail in a pile he mentally designated 'fire starters.'
Finally, the last letter was a heavy parchment letter to 'Harry Potter-Black' with the back wax sealed with blue blob of wax with a 'M' pressed into it. Harry opened it with some trepidation.
It was a letter from… Draco Malfoy of all people.
'Harry Potter-Black, head of House Black.
Black of Black,
My most humble thanks for the aid you have given my wife's family.
While I know we have not seen eye-to-eye in the past, I am eternally grateful for the aid you have given. If I had not been beggared by fines, I would have showered galleons on you.
Your humble Servant,
Draco Sylvanious Malfoy, acting head, House of Malfoy.'
Harry looked at the letter. Probably file it, he thought, he was unlikely to get a thank-you from Draco ever again. He'd been incredibly polite, for a rancid git like Malfoy.
The study door opened and Kreacher pushed a tea-trolly in, with a covered plate on it.
"Kreacher?" asked Harry "What are you doing?"
"Bringing master his lunch" said Kreacher "Master will need his strength to deal with his mail."
Harry looked at the empty in-pile "What mail?" asked Harry.
"Master's mail. The Big blood traitor and the goblins delivered it yesterday. It waits for master in the ballroom." croaked Kreacher.
Harry, feeling hungry anyway, had the egg and cress sandwich, the cup of tea, and small peppermint.
"Kreacher?" asked Harry "Why was this lunch?"
"Master Orion always had this for lunch when he worked in the office" croaked Kreacher.
Harry got up from the desk and walked to the ballroom, and opened the door.
A huge pile of mail and parcels, horribly reminiscent of the room of lost things lay in the middle of his ballroom. It had to be almost dragon-sized. [Hungarian Horntail, of course.]
And smelt faintly of mildew.
"Kreacher" said Harry "I'm going to need my desk, and more sandwiches."
Kreacher vanished with a pop, and the office desk appeared with a thud, Harry's letter to Gabrielle still on it. Harry sat down, and transfigured some of the unwanted letters from the firestarter pile into open-fronted organiser trays, and carefully, if a bit wonkily labelled them with his quill 'Filing' 'Reply' and 'Inbox'
Harry went to the pile, and looked at the piles of packages. Harry didn't really know what to do, so he stared, and suddenly lost track of time. Another damn fuge… which he was woken from, by Kreacher tugging on his trouser-leg.
"Master" croaked Kreacher. Harry looked down at the old elf, who was carrying a thick ledger.
"What's that?" asked Harry.
"The correspondence book" said Kreahcher "Master Orion would write all the names and dates of correspondence in it." Harry eyed the book with dismay. It looked old, murky and thick. And sounded like a lot of work, but gave Harry an idea, anyway.
"I'm off to Hogsmeade to get a new book or two" said Harry "Put that one back in … wherever it was."
Kreacher nodded and vanished with a pop.
Harry apparated back to Hogsmeade from the front hall, where it was possible for Harry at least, and went to Tomers and Scrolls. The door jingled merrily as he opened it, and the room smelt of books.
Harry went to the organiser section quickly, having been dragged there by Hermione enough times, and found some ruled books. They were only an inch thick, didn't smell and looked vaguely important. Harry took two to the counter, and after a small Rravenclaw girl had bought a pile of stationery nearly taller than herself, put the books down on the counter.
The clerk, a middle-aged man with a flat-topped hat nodded. "Do you want them labelled?" he asked.
"Parcels and Letters" said Harry "I'm sorting my mail backlog. Only just got it."
The clerk visibly resisted the urge to ask Harry, and simply said "two sickles."
Harry paid his two sickles, the clerk cast a charm that embossed the books with 'Parcels' and 'Letters' and Harry left, feeling like he was being very organised.
He was just about to apparate back to the Manor, when someone called out his name.
It was, he discovered, Hermione, with a bunch of new quills, having just come out of Scrivenshafts.
She bustled over, in casual clothes "What are you doing with books?" she asked.
Harry explained and Hermione looked excited. "Can I come see?" she asked.
"I'll side-along you" said Harry "It's quicker."
Hermione stared at the pile of smelly old letters and parcels. "Harry" she said in a strangled voice "This is going to take you months."
"No" said Harry "Longer than that, I've got NEWTs to sit."
"Maybe you need to hire a secretary?" she asked, peering at boxes.
"Erm" said Harry, feeling a stabbing pain in the money-bag coming on.
"If there's one thing I've learned" said Harry "It's that you can only rely on yourself, and some of the stuff in these letters is very sensitive. My mail from Gringotts is… I don't trust anyone with it."
"I heard you got out of being banned from Gringotts somehow" said Hermione crossly "It's very inconvenient still for me."
"Go to St Mungos, to the blood diseases department and get a blood test. They can find out what magical families you're related to, and with a little luck, there's an old vault you can use. You may need to get cleared under the Proceeds of Crimes (blood war) act, but that's one Auror search of your home." said Harry. Resisting the slight urge to make a crack about Ron doing the 'search.' Hermione looked a bit cross for that. She looked at Harry with narrowed eyes "And you didn't tell me sooner because?"
"Didn't really occur to me" admitted Harry.
"And this will make me some sort of ersatz pureblood?" asked Hermione.
"No" said Harry, fairly sure what ersatz meant, "Every muggleborn, apparently is the offspring of squibs, including my mother. In her case, a really long line of squibs. Not a pureblood, not sacred-twenty-eight and it's not important who they were. I'm using the old vault, and that's quite handy."
"I heard" said Hermione "The ministry gossips mentioned Harry Potter had a vault. You can tell me who it was, I won't judge you." said Hermione, with an earnest look on her face.
Harry frowned and looked away "Hermione, you'd judge me. It's nobody from school, the family's extinct except for me anyway."
"Oh" said Hermione "The Peverells. That's not so bad, Harry. They're a bit mysterious, and I read this really purple history of families that claims the Peverells were necromancers."
Harry sighed "See, you'd judge me." He stared at the boxes "What are in the boxes, do you think?"
"Presents" said Hermione simply.
"Presents?" asked Harry.
"You were the baby boy-who-lived, of course people would send you presents" said Hermione.
"Oh" said Harry staring at the boxes. "What will I do with presents?"
Hermione sighed "Harry!" she said, sounding exasperated "A lot of the presents are old, so will be for a small child. Obviously you were most famous when you were aged one, and again, aged seventeen. I doubt you will want baby booties."
Harry stated at all the boxes. More than Dudley could have ever dreamed of. What would Harry do with all the presents, he wondered; Put them in a room like Dudley, but not broken. Seemed a waste, really.
"What will I do with them?" Harry asked, falling back into asking Hermione.
"You could..." Hermione stopped to think "Donate them to a deserving charity."
"I think the church jumble shop might not cope with magical presents" said Harry.
"Well… there must be someone. St Mungos perhaps. They treat children, and some toys would probably help."
"The baby stuff" said Harry thoughtfully "Could go to new parents. I don't need them."
"You might one day" said Hermione. "You will, won't you?" she asked. "Need baby stuff one day?"
"At this rate" said Harry bitterly "I'll need old-aged care stuff first."
"Look, I know that you and Ginny didn't work out" said Hermione.
"Or me and Cho" said Harry.
"Harry! You were fifteen. You'll find someone." said Hermione "You're fairly good-looking, have nice enough manners, and good hygiene."
"And a bad temper" said Harry.
"I was listing your good points" said Hermione firmly.
"Well, you've got Ron, anyway." said Harry.
"Molly wants us to set a date" said Hermione awkwardly.
"A what?" asked Harry.
"A date to get married. Or engaged, or anything." said Hermione, sounding a bit worried.
"Can't you just… be?" asked Harry.
"And live at the Burrow. No" said Hermione.
"What about your parents place?" asked Harry.
"They sold it to move" said Hermione, and she sniffled.
"Hermione?" asked Harry "Have you gone and got your parents back yet?"
"There hasn't been time" said Hermione "And my job, and Ron's job… we're very busy."
"Take a holiday, I'll pay, and go undo what you did at least" said Harry.
"You'll pay?" asked Hermione "I thought money was a bit tight?"
"I got paid for a job, I can afford to pay you two to go undo the last bit of mess from the war." said Harry, and Hermione ran over and hugged him painfully hard, till he really felt his ribs really were going to crack. She let go, sniffling, her eyes wet "Oh Harry, you're the best friend!"
"Look, I'll get you two… I dunno, four hundred galleons. That'll cover it right?" asked Harry.
"Four hundred" said Hermione, blinking "That's a lot of money Harry."
"You saved our lives in seventh year with your savings, Hermione. I can afford it." said Harry.
"Well, you need a secretary." said Hermione "To do this backlog."
"It'll have to wait till after NEWTs" said Harry "Some of this may be quite sensitive."
"Sensitive?" asked Hermione.
"People send photos." said Harry obliquely.
"Photos?" asked Hermione.
"Girls send photos" said Harry, more forcefully. "And older witches too, these days."
Hermione blinked and stared at the pile of mail "Oh" she said "You're a celebrity, aren't you."
"You are too" said Harry, and Hermione turned away and Harry could see her hair stand up a bit more.
"You get weird letters too!" said Harry loudly.
"Only a few" said Hermione. "More offers of marriage. And stuff."
"And stuff?" asked Harry.
"American Play-witch offered me… gold to appear in their magazine" said Hermione "Which is a disgusting sexist publication."
"Play-witch?" asked Harry "What… witches in their knickers?"
"Or less. The offer was quite detailed in their offers." said Hermione, still facing away. Harry snorted.
"Ron gets offers to appear in Teen Witch Weekly" said Hermione.
"I got that again this week and Witch Weekly" said Harry. "Though, I suspect with more clothes on than yours. Hermione Granger, nude model. Ron's mum would flip."
"Ron was very negative about it, and made fun of me for weeks" said Hermione. "Kept telling me to work it, work it."
Harry burst out laughing. "How is that working out, living at the Burrow?"
"Much better than you'd think." said Hermione "Victioure and Teddy wear Molly out, and they're so cute together."
"Teddy is not getting set up with Victioure Weasley" said Harry "Honestly, those Delacour girls."
"What? Asked Hermione turning, she still looked quite flushed with embarrassment.
"I got an offer from Gabrielle, Fleur's little sister. She included pictures American Play-Witch would have wanted. I have to post back my firm reply."
"Harry!" explained Hermione "She's underage!"
"My reply says exactly that. AND I incinerated he pictures." said Harry.
"You missed Sunday lunch" said Hermione, after a moments thought.
"I have all this to sort. And god alone knows how many things need incinerated." said Harry.
Hermione checked her watch "You'll need to get a move on to post that before the owl office closes." she said.
"I'll drop off a bag of galleons at the Burrow" said Harry "For you and Ron to go to Australia."
"When will you get that?" asked Hermione.
"Gringotts never close." said Harry. "Before last carriage back to Hogwarts tonight."
Hermione started casting a big charm, and the odour of mildew and something else faded.
"What was that?" asked Harry.
"Air freshening charm" said Hermione. "Seventh year textbook, and very handy for Rons' room."
"I like to pretend you two don't" said Harry "Helps me not sick up."
"Prat" said Hermione lovingly.
Kreacher took to hovering by Harry's side in the Great hall during meals, capturing incoming mail, and Harry only dealt with it on Saturdays. Studying for NEWTs started to drive the seventh years a bit batty. Harry had a few more messy early morning dreams than usual, but an exam, even NEWTs had no terrors compared to dying. Harry received a disappointing number of weirdo letters, several from witches with pictures, and took pride in incinerating them without perving.
He did however use a comb-a-chameleon to go buy a couple of American Play-Witch magazines. One ended up in his bedside drawer at Hogwarts. It helped…. Relieve stress.
NEWTs finally came.
The NEWT History of Magic exam had a question Harry was convinced had been written specifically for Harry, on the rise of Voldemort, and his subsequent fall. Harry had to call for three extra booklets to finish the essay, and left the exam wondering if he'd let anything classified slip. It might cause some problems if the exam markers at the WEA got obliviated.
Harry's NEWT potions practical went about as well as could be expected. He was quite sure his draught of peace wouldn't kill you, even if it was a bit blueish. It had to be acceptable, at least.
His charms practical, he cast a Patronus, let Prongs prance around for a bit, then conjured some mannequin puppets, and waving his wand very carefully, had a puppet Voldemort act out his last minutes to a puppet Harry. Playing to his strengths, as he couldn't play music or sing. The examiner applauded politely as puppet-Voldemort collapsed. Harry vanished the puppets and nodded to his examiner and left the Great hall. Maybe a singing snowman would have been a better idea, he wondered afterwards.
His Defence Practical was crowded out with Aurors lining the walls.
"We'd like you to duel an Auror" asked the very elderly, withered witch who was the examiner. Harry shook his head "That's not a fair test. This is NEWT Defence against the Dark arts. Besides, they'll get badly hurt."
Bloody Chief Auror Dawlish scoffed.
"You don't think so? Asked Harry. "I'm supposed to be a seventeen, maybe eighteen-year-old student with seven years of classroom training. Which, as everyone here knows, I'm not."
"You're not that good" said Dawlish "Prone to showboating, prone to using excessive force. Not that good."
Harry drew his wand "Okay, let's do this" he said.
Dawlish stepped out and drew his wand.
"On three" said examiner. "Two … one… begin!"
Harry waited fractionally, side-stepped the curses Dawlish had fired, and transfigured Dawlish's robes into steel chains, and charmed them smaller.
Dawlish went pale and collapsed.
"Everyone expects me to cast expelliarmus or blasting curses" said Harry "I'm not a robot. I spent all year learning NEWT Transfiguration and Charms. I can add them to my technique. Is that a pass?"
"That's a pass" said the examiner politely.
"Well, for extra credit, one Patronus charm" said Harry and wordlessly summoned Prongs, who stamped his hoof, echoing Harry's slight irritation. "I know I can do more Dementors than is really healthy to have near a school, so don't bring one." he added.
Then Harry used a flame whip to light the candles on the high table from his position a hundred feet away.
"That would appear to be an Exceeds Expectations" said the examiner.
"Do I get credit for killing a dark lord?" asked Harry "I was technically still a student?"
"You'd like an O plus?" asked the examiner.
"Not for that" said Harry "But I could… "
Harry summoned a Mountain Troll. It roared and lifted its club.
Harry walked quickly into range of it's club, then with a flick of his wand, stunned it, and cast a softening charm on the stone floor, so the Troll landed without even bumping it's head.
The Aurors had their wands out.
"That was a bit dangerous" said the examiner, who hadn't drawn her wand.
"Madame?" asked Harry of the examiner.
"Oberlund" she said "Geneve ICW" with a Germanic accent.
Harry bowed slightly. "When a troll appears and the oldest witch in the room doesn't react, they're the dangerous one."
Madame Oberlund smiled thinly "Observational skills." she said "One point."
"I don't think I want to duel you" said Harry. "But I do want an O plus."
Madame Oberlund put down her clipboard and drew a bent black wand. Harry was horribly reminded of Bellatrix's.
Harry cast a series of dispelling charms, progressively more powerful.
Madame Oberlund nodded "A wise first move" she said, standing side-on.
"Dawlish, call a countdown" she said lazily.
Harry cast Protego Horribilis wordlessly, and Madme Oberlund's first spell, a nasty purple ribbon fizzled on it, making it flicker. She had power to burn, evidently.
Harry got up on his toes and leapt sideways, making a painful wand adjustment to keep the heavy shield going, and Transfigured the floor into spikes. Madme Oberlund, who looked over a hundred, balanced on the tip of a spike with seemingly little effort, and cast a familiar looking black chain at Harry. He didn't bother with it, and dispelled his shield, and very riskily used a sieze-and-pull to a barely-visible roof beam to shoot into the air, and land behind Madame Oberlund, but not without conjuring red balloons between the spikes.
Madame Oberlund, as Harry expected, transfigured the spikes away, and wasn't silly enough to interfere with the balloons. Harry swished and flicked his wand, and as he intended, the Trolls club shot past Harry so quickly it was little more than a blur and broke Madam Oberand's wand arm, flinging her wand far across the room. Harry banished the Troll, and club back to the Welsh mountain it had come from, and shielded.
"I concede" said Madam Oberlund "I was not expecting you to bludgeon my arm."
"Because you're a little old lady." said Harry drily "A very dangerous little old lady who knows a Black family curse."
"That" said Madame Oberlund, as Dawlish charmed the bones of her arm "Is an O plus. Dawlish, Mister Potter Black's file needs updating. He is officially R.E.D now."
"I'd noticed" said Dawlish grimly, summoning Madame Oberund's wand. It looked quite battered.
"I can fix that" said Harry blandly. "In private."
"GRISELDA!" yelled Madam Oberlund.
The head of the WEA came into the Great hall. "Bernese?" she asked, rather sharply.
"Mister Potter scored an O plus in his practical. He apparently also can mend wands. You may want to consider that for his charms mark."
"He already has an O plus in his charms practical" said Griselda Mountbanks.
Harry conjured up a small black tent.
"Your wand, if you will, Madam Oberlund?" Harry asked, and she handed him her broken wand.
"Ebony, dragons claw, and dragon Heart-string" she said. "I'll miss her."
Harry noticed, warily that her arm was no longer broken. He went into his conjured tent, drew the elder wand and used a wordless repair charm to put the wand back to rights with a soft click. He stowed the elder wand, buttoned up his shirt, closed his school robes, drew his Holly wand and came out and handed Madame Oberlund her wand. She cast a quick flower summoning charm, and got black roses.
"I usually get eidelwiess" she said "But the wand is repaired. And still mine. I can tell by the feel."
Harry nodded.
Griselda Mountebanks looked at Harry "You have impressed me" she said "Albus Dumbledore never did that in his NEWT's exam. Wand repair is not... possible."
"I did defeat my dark lord Before my NEWTS exam" said Harry "My Aunt Andromeda suggested I point that out."
Griselda Mountbanks smiled, her face fracturing into a million faceted wrinkles "You have proved a point." she agreed.
Madame Oberlund spoke up "And how does one survive a killing curse?" she asked.
"Family magic" said Harry automatically. Madame Oberlund looked sideways at Harry "Raised by muggles, and snaps out 'family magic' at the first question."
"From a member of the ICW" said Harry. "Mugwump Oberlund?"
Madame Oberlund shook her head "I stopped going to meetings years ago." she said "Just plain old Madame Oberlund now. At Beauxbatons that sort of answer would be a pass in OWL Wizarding culture and traditions."
"That's not a course at Hogwarts" said Harry. Madame Oberland, tilted her head minutely "Now, Chief Auror Dawlish, you and your boys can leave. I believe we have a few students left to judge for NEWT Dark… Defence against the Dark arts." she corrected herself.
"Durmstrang?" asked Harry.
"Ja" said Madame Overland "Don't let me detain you, Mister Potter."
-==0==-
Harry packed his trunk in the seventh room dorms, as a raucous party happened down in the Common room.
"You're going now aren't you?" asked Spinks.
"I've done NEWTs, now I've got things to do" said Harry.
"What was it like?" asked Spinks.
"Terrifying" said Harry honestly. "You were better off missing it."
Harry left the Gryffindor common room, his trunk floating behind him.
He got to the front doors, and there, waiting was Professor McGonagall.
"Leaving so soon, Mister Potter" she asked.
"I have a truly horrendous mail backlog" admitted Harry. "Months of work."
"And then back to the Auror office?" she asked.
"I'm a bit sick of Dawlish, honestly" admitted Harry.
"And your partners in crime?" asked Professor McGonagall.
"Off to Australia this summer to recover Hermione's parents." said Harry "Quietly though."
"I heard nothing" said Professor McGonagall. "You're quite an adult, Harry Potter. Well Done."
"Thank you" said Harry, his stupid eyes watering. He blinked a bit.
"I do have a vacancy for a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor?" asked Professor McGonagall.
Harry looked into her bespectacled eyes. She seemed to have stupid watering eyes too.
"I um, don't know much about teaching." said Harry awkwardly.
"You taught Defence for two years." said Professor McGonagall. "You would have to tone down the rule-breaking a little."
"I haven't broken any rules this year" protested Harry.
"And that was as disturbing as your father turning over a new leaf as Head boy" said Professor McGonagall, with a slight smile.
Harry thought for a bit "I'm older than dad now" he said, biting his lip.
"He died very young" said Professor McGonagall with a sniff.
"You have broken one rule this year" said Professor McGonagall "Play-Witch is a banned object. It's on Argus's list."
Harry blushed.
"Go on, go home" said Professor McGonagall.
Harry reached into his pocket and took out a miniature broom, shook it to full size, shrank his trunk, pocketed it, and with a lazy wave, flew off towards Hogsmeade.
Professor McGonagall watched him fly off, sniffing.
Harry flew over the front gates of Hogwarts, and landed, and apparated home.
He re-shrank his broom and apparated up to his bedroom, and started unpacking his trunk.
Once the sleepy snake, clothes and washbag were out, the rest was books and tools, so he apparated to the library, took his books and put them on an empty shelf. His last stop was the potions lab, where he deposited his cauldron and remaining ingredients and tools. Then up to the attic to drop off his empty trunk, and back down to the ballroom to eye the pile.
The desk's inbox had more letters in it.
The usual mix of weirdos, letters asking for donations, and dodgy letters from witches. And, as a first, one from a wizard. Harry tried not to think about the photos, and turned to the next letter. Witch Weekly again. Sure enough, a few letters later, Teen Witch Weekly. And then a weird letter from someone whose photos featured… a couple… Harry blushed and covered that up.
His pile to incinerate had got pretty big, so Harry banished them all into the fireplace and lit it with an incendio.
He looked at his desk. He'd handed the weeks mail, and now he could… start on the backlog.
Harry stood up, walked over and picked up a large, heavy parcel, addressed to Harry Potter.
Harry opened the parcel and found inside it a set of children's books. Tales of Beedle the bard featured. Harry took all the books and apparated to the library, and put them on another empty shelf. He officially had children's books, and a godson to read to.
He apparated back and looked in the box. There was a card, and Harry got the parcels book, wrote out the name 'Percical Snoot-Harding, and his address, and 'Children's books, shelved.' The box he banished into the fireplace. One down… some unknowable number to go.
The next box had a plush dragon. It puffed fire, but the charm was nearly worn out. Harry put it to one side, then grabbed the box, and transfigured it into a basket big enough for a cubic yard of plush toys. He put the dragon in the basket, and took the card, and wrote it up as 'Donation.'
Then Harry made a note to get a book on mending magical toys with failing charms. Arthur Weasley would know what book.
Harry worked at the pile till the basket was full, and he had a pile of books on his desk.
And realised he needed a filing system for books… as there were at least five Beedle's in the piles of books.
Harry renamed the letters journal and started a book index, going to the library and adding his old textbooks, and first armload of children books. He'd have to add the old library index later.
He apparated back to the ballroom and started on the books on the desk, rapidly piling up duplicates. When done, he had a tall pile of children's books, and a huge pile of duplicates.
Harry took the largest empty box and transfigured it into another large basket, and packing-charmed all the spare books into it. It was a bit full, really.
He banished the full box of books to give away into a corner, and started on another box.
Kreacher came by later announcing it was lunchtime.
Harry ate in the dining room, mostly to get way from the smell in the ballroom. The longer Harry stayed there, the more he noticed it wasn't just mildew. There was an undercurrent of rot as well.
After lunch, fortified by asparagus and pumpkin soup, Harry started on a small box.
Which contained a desiccated, stinky fruitcake. Harry vanished it, and made a note to learn the air-freshening charm tonight. A small parcel had chocolate, whitish and a smelling vaguely of mould.
Harry developed a theory about parcels… and for an hour only opened book-like, or ones that held plush toys. A box held a plush wolf, and Harry put that on his desk to give to Teddy.
Soon Harry had too many plush toys on the desk, and dedicated a basket for "To Teddy."
Ten boxes later Harry decided that a basket for "To Harry" might be in order. The miniature broom, the animated box of animals, including a deer and stag, and the small orrery.
Harry began to find more age-inappropriate toys… and put them in Harry's box. A ukulele, and a drum, which Harry as definitely not giving Teddy. He made enough noise already.
By the time Kreacher came to announce dinner, Harry had an entire yard cube sized basket of musical instruments, and a box full of ones he had more than one of. There was technically a music room at the manor; even if until today, the only instrument Harry had was Hagrids wooden flute.
Harry had filled three baskets with surplus plush toys, and kept back a lion, a dog and a plush owl. He might colour charm it later to white… if he wanted to cry a lot, he thought to himself.
Harry opened a box and found a miniature quidditch uniform. He put that in a new crate.
Kreacher tugged on Harry's leg "Master must eat dinner before it gets cold."
Harry went and ate a perfectly reasonable lamb chop and vegetables and potato, and thanked Kreacher, and went back to work in the ballroom, determined, finally to focus on cake-like boxes.
He cast a bubblehead charm, and set to. His first guess wasn't a cake, but a hat. Harry stripped the wrapping and made a new basket for hats.
Harry was tired, and he'd made a dent in the pile, vanished dozens of rotten, dried out cakes, and a few trays of (intentionally) dried fruit.
The next several days were a blur of discovering nasty smelling cakes, books and clothes when finally, the door opened and Sunny slithered in, she hissed something.
"Some of the boxes hold bad smelling things" said Harry.
Sunny slithered over and butted a box and she hissed.
With Sunny's superior olfaction, Harry 'chewed' through the pile quickly, and an hour later made a revolting discovery. A kitten in a box. Dried out.
"Sunny" hissed Harry, hoping she'd understand "Find all the boxes with dead animals in them"
Sunny was extremely efficient, and Harry had trouble keeping up, finally thinking to give her a crayon to hold in her jaws, and she marked the boxes with a clumsy mark.
Harry followed along, spreading the pile with unpacking charms, and vanishing the boxes she'd marked without opening them. One, however, was particularly big and Harry opened it. It had been a large dog. Now mummified and dreadful smelling; whatever charm had stilled the dog in post had evidently outlasted the dog.
It was eventually time for a lunch Harry hardly wanted to eat, and Sunny had filtered out all the bad smelling boxes. Harry picked her up, draped her over his shoulders and ticked her under the chin.
"You're a very good snake" Harry said and Sunny lay on Harry like a ton of bricks.
Harry went to lunch carrying her heavy bulk.
Kreacher was alarmed "Master is wearing a snake" croaked the old house-elf.
"Someone sent her to kill me, so now she's a pet." said Harry "She eats a mouse once a week or so."
"There are no mice in our manor" said Kreacher indignantly.
"I buy them from a shop," said Harry "Feel free to trap some in an outbuilding or something."
Kreacher nodded "Does master's snake require a mouse today?"
"$hungry$" asked Harry.
Sunny shook her head.
"Sunny isn't interested in food. There were dead pets and rotted food in the parcels," said Harry. "Put us both off our food."
Kreacher had made welsh rarebit, and the smell was appetising. Harry managed some.
"$bad$" hissed Sunny. Well, Harry was fairly sure it was bad she'd hissed.
"Snakes don't eat cheese" hissed Harry "I like it."
"bad$" hissed Sunny "$bad$."
Harry patted Sunny on the head and ate some more, and had some tea.
Before braving the ballroom, Harry carried Sunny over to the library and using the seventh year charms text, practised the air-freshening charm.
Sunny's tounge flicked more and she craned around. Must like it, Harry thought.
"The spell freshens the air" hissed Harry.
"bad$" hissed Sunny. Harry was fairly sure that's what she said.
She was lying very sleepily, so Harry left her in the drawing room. She slithered into the sun and stopped.
Harry left Sunny in the sun, and went back to the ballroom.
Having been elswhere, it reeked.
Harry broke out the Elder wand for the air-freshening charm. Which, Harry sniffed, and there was a distinct odour of graveyard rot, had been a bad idea. His holly wand took five casts to get the room fresh, but that was probably mostly the Elder wand's fault.
Fairly confident there weren't bad smelling things left, Harry started on boxes again.
Five yard-cube sized baskets of books later, Harry was getting an idea of the sort of presents people had sent Harry. Baby clothes, clothes for a small boy, children's books. Balls, Games, wooden toys, Toy wands, and a small heap of kiddie brooms. Harry put two aside for Teddy and Victoire. That would be cute.
Some of what Harry opened was a surprise. Blankets, which Harry would have appreciated, sheet sets, mostly with enchanted patterns, pillows, and small throw rugs, mostly hand-made. Harry put two aside, and the rest in a donation box.
Four days later, Harry opened a box and found a boxed violin. He looked at the violin; he'd never learnt any musical instrument, and the violin looked child-sized. Off into the musical instruments box.
Harry had been home two weeks, and three days, and the parcels were finally done. He'd found some great age-inappropriate toys, had two orrerys, a couple of nice clocks, four watches, one of which had replaced the battered one the Weaslys had given him, which he'd lost in the war, two pocket watches, a dessert-bowl of signet rings, all with P's on them, some, cringe-fully with HP, and another bowl of necklaces and bracelets. They seemed somewhat effeminate gifts, but Harry looked at the most amazinglt tasteless gift. A black leather belt with a 'HP' belt buckle. It was, he was sure, the sort of thing that people like Daphne Greengrass would point out as a sign of his immense ego. Harry put it in his bedroom drawer, he'd wear it if someone made him attend something he didn't want to.
Harry fished thought the bowl of signet rings, and picked out a P in gold, and put that on his right pinky finger. Now he could look like Malfoy. There was a much more severe looking silvery ring with a P on it, and Harry fished around, and eyed it. Peverell started with a P too, he mused, and transfigured the ring to have a black shield, instead of silver. He looked at the ring. What it really needed, he thought snidely, was a bit of Deathly Hallows creepiness. Harry drew out the Elder wand and transfigured the ring into a ring. As he'd expected, the face of the ring changed from a P to a Hallows sign, and the band had a slightly chain-of-bones look about it. Harry smiled, definitely the thing to twit Ron and Hermione. He fished in the jewellery, and found a simple P hanging from a chain, and threaded the ring on, and put it around his neck. It felt cold against his chest, but he could easily find it, if the coming Sunday afternoon at the Burrow proved boring. Harry stilled. Hermione and Ron had gone to Australia, and weren't due back for a while. Harry fished through the pile of rings; most of the gems were rubies, as that was his birthstone. Harry did find one ring with a green stone, and put it on. A subtle reminder of mum, and uncle Tom and great-something grandfather Salazar.
He eyed the huge pile of rings. The plain stone rings were not marked as his, so he separated them, leaving the pile of signet rings with P's. For fun he put them all on… till every finger and thumb had at least two rings. Harry snorted, it looked ridiculous. It'd go well with the HP belt buckle. He apparated upstairs and emptied the more dire signet rings into an unmatched sock.
Back to the rings, he found the empty largest velvet bag, and put all the reusable rings in one, and the necklaces in the rest of the bags, leaving Harry with a dessert bowl of necklaces with P's on them.
Harry eyed that, and thought… I'm a wizard. Ten minutes later he had made a bowl of necklaces with every possible letter. Some letters were a little wonky. Any adult could probably fix that.
Harry bagged them up, put the give-away jewellery bags in a box, and put it in the last box of toys.
He eyed the… eleven huge baskets to give away, and apparated to St Mungos.
It was in a rush of sick people and Healers, and smelt awfully of hospital.
Harry asked the very solicitous Welcome Witch. "I have children's toys, clothes, presents to give away, can St Mungos use them?"
The Welcome witch's smile faltered "Harry Potter's giving away presents?"
"I just got eighteen years of parcels" said Harry "I don't need the children's stuff."
"We could… level Nine, the orphans." she said, smile gone. Harry's stomach felt like he'd just taken a bludger there. 'The orphans' she'd said.
Harry took the lift. It rattled and he was jostled by people with strange complaints; a wizard with donkey's ears, a Witch with green froth coming from her mouth, and a boy with an arrow through his head. The boy's witch mother seemed fairly untroubled. "He's done it before" she admitted.
Harry stayed on the lift and got out on level nine, which had a beat-up look to it, and a desk with nobody at it, and double doors to the ward.
The double doors opened, and an old witch came out, her black hair short, stooped over.
"Harry Potter" she said.
"No that's my name" said Harry. The witch stopped dead still, and sighed "Nurse Eustice Knibbs."
"I have baskets and baskets of children's stuff. For years all the present people sent me piled up, and I've just got them, and sorted them. I've got lots of plush toys, books, boys clothes, musical instruments, toys, balls, even jewellery."
Nurse Knibbs just stared at Harry "All that?" she said.
"Took me weeks to sort." said Harry "Can you use it?"
Nurse Knibbs opened one double door, and Harry looked into a long ward that must run the length of the attics at St Mungos, full of beds, and at most beds, children sat or moved about, in slightly faded clothes, with the faded, pinched faces Harry recognised from years of looking in the mirror. There were a hundred children at least. She shut the door "That answer your question?" she said grimly.
"Sorry I haven't got girls clothes" said Harry.
"We won't need to buy as many boys clothes." said Nurse Knibbs "you want this to be anonymous, of have the Prophet here, make a big performance of it?"
"How about I drop them off" said Harry.
"Anytime" said Nurse Knibbs.
Harry took the lift downstairs and flooed home, and started shrinking baskets. A hour later, he had them in a box, which he spell-o-taped shut, and flooed to St Mungos, falling and landing in a heap. Which had several people in the waiting area coming over to see Harry Potter lying in a tangled heap.
He got up, picked up the box and went to the lift. After another long, weird trip, one wizard was even coughing up small pigs, he got out on level nine again.
After a bit, Nurse Knibbs came out and looked at the box "Well, it's something" she said. "Bring it in, I figure you're safe enough with children."
Harry carried the box in through the double doors, and put it on the floor and opened the top, and used an unpacking charm to pull out all the shrunken baskets, and un-shrank them.
The children, who'd been keeping a wary on eye on Harry reacted with shock to the pop as the boxes expanded.
"You really did bring a lot" said Nurse Knibbs "Harry Potter's come and dropped off presents" she said loudly. "You can say why?" she added.
"I got presents for being me, all my life. All my mail went somewhere else, and I got it very recently. I've sorted out this stuff, and I don't need it, and maybe you lot will want it" said Harry awkwardly.
"Everyone that wants… a plush toy line up" said Nurse Knibbs. "You going to hand them out?"
"Er" said Harry "How about everyone just gets one. There's baskets of them."
"It's mean more coming from you" said Nurse Knibbs quietly.
Harry walked over and performed a weird repeat of handing out Hogwarts medals, but handing out plush toys, soon saying "Say what you want, we've got lots of everything!"
After the third shy little girl wanted a teddy, Harry's stupid eyes watered.
As Harry expected, everyone could indeed have more than one plush toy. "I'll come back and fix up the wonky charms" said Harry "I need to learn how first."
Boys clothes, Nurse Knibbs handed out while Harry handed out balls and related toys.
"We've got musical instruments, but that'll be a bit raucous" said Harry.
"We've got a room for that, but hardly any instruments left" was the answer from a grim nurse.
Books, there was a bookshelf with very worn looking books in it. Harry used a packing charm to fill the bookshelves with new books. The children eyed them curiously.
When Harry started handing out jewellery to the girls by initial, the girls cried.
"None of them have many precious things" said Nurse Knibbs.
Harry finished handing out stuff finishing with rings, and Nurse Knibbs put the baskets along the end wall.
"They're just transfigured boxes" said Harry.
"They're castles, forts, somewhere to put balls" said Nurse Knibbs, and Harry walked back down the orphans ward, now with throw rugs on beds, eiderdowns, blankets, and new sheet here and there. She'd put the baby clothes to one side.
"You're a bloody generous man" said Nurse Knibbs. "My sister's daughter..."
"No thanks" said Harry "I can find my own. I've got things to do."
"Back to being an Auror?" she asked at the doors to the ward.
"I've been offered a teaching job" admitted Harry "And it's tempting."
"Well, you bring any more presents here and the Governors of the hospital will hold a gala for you" said Nurse Knibbs. "Mother magic smooth your way, Harry Potter."
Harry flooed home and was dragged by Kreacher to the dining room for a late supper.
He slept poorly, dreaming of the pinched faces of the orphans. He woke and decided he'd have to make enquiries about fundraising for the orphans of St Mungos.
After washing and breakfast, he went to start on letters, stopped, bought another ledger, and began again.
Four letters later, a charmed package expanded. Baby clothes.
After a tiring morning of reading effusive letters, and writing down who'd written, Harry had a small box of presents.
He eyed the parcels ledger. It had a list, effectively of all the parcel senders. Harry flicked through it. Anyone could take this list and send thank-you cards. Some recently graduated students, for a galleon a day, for example. Harry wrote a letter to the Daily Prophet classified jobs section. He'd seen the classifieds take responses.
'Wanted: persons to write bulk thank you notes for donations. Neat hand-writing and good skills at reading poor writing essential. Applications to the Prophet, Bulk-Clerk.'
Harry disguised himself as Kettle, and took a trip by floo. The classified office was as bustling as the owl-post office.
Eventually he was served and handed over a sickle and three galleons for mail to Bulk-Clerk to be held for three weeks.
He left the office and apparated home, as 'Black Manor' was a very distinctive floo destination.
Hours of letters later, Harry made a burn box with a slot for the dodgy letters.
Harry opened a larger letter, and there was a wodge of parchment. Harry read the front.
It was, apparently a baby Harry Potter adventure. Quite far off the mark. Harry took note of the name, and added the message "Not at all like the truth."
An hour of larger letters, Harry wished he had an owl. He had plenty to line their tray with.
Dozens of people had written terrible novelisations, or worse, purportedly factual accounts, of Harry's survival as a baby. They were all on the list for a terse reply.
Harry got to an even bigger, if not thicker envelope and opened it. It was full of parchment, but not a novel or a 'factual account'. Something stranger and worse. A marriage contract to offering to marry some… Yvette Roundshanks, aged… three in nineteen eighty-three. Harry put that in a special pile. The 'hell no' pile.
By lunch, he had five marriage contracts in the pile, and a disturbingly large pile of offers of marriage between Harry and some equally young witch. He looked at his stack of parchment for "Send them a 'no' cards." It was longer than his exam answers for NEWTs.
After lunch, Harry investigated Sunny, who had apparently had a mouse this morning, and was sleeping it off. Snakes, Harry thought were good pets if you were easily distracted, and a parselmouth. Or even could just remember a few words, like me, thought Harry.
Back to letters, he struck the first embarrassing offer, from Sue Bones's parents. She'd been four. It was more an offer for play-dates.
Harry started another list.
By dinner time, he'd found the first really embarrassing letter. From Ginny Weaseley, aged seven. She was big Harry Potter fan. He noted it and dropped it in the burn box.
Harry struck another letter from a teenage witch with a camera and it went in the burn box too.
After dinner he kept checking letters for a few more hours, finally stopping, tired and going to bed.
He'd seen glimpses of all sorts of photographs, and his sleeping mind played him a collage.
Harry spent three days on letters, finally going to see Andromeda, to see Teddy and ask about St Mungos fundraising.
Andromeda, over dinner asked questions, and evidently had heard of his donations, and approved.
"We can do a fundraising dinner, people will pay to see you. You're quite reclusive. Even Teddy hardly sees you," she said pointedly.
Harry played with Teddy, and handed over some presents, which made him Teddy's favouritest person. Andromeda watched over Harry as he put Teddy to bed, and finally, in the kitchen asked some adult questions.
"Are you drinking?" she asked.
Harry shook his head "Occasional drink, no drinking to forget." Andromeda nodded.
"And bedmates?" asked Andromeda.
Harry blushed "I'm not … doing that," said Harry. "I'm getting the backlog of mail sorted, I'll hire some graduates to fill in thank-you cards and then, I'll think about the job offer."
"What job?" asked Andromeda sharply.
"Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts" said Harry.
Andromeda tilted her head "Minerva's a sharp one."
"It's tempting" admitted Harry "Not getting attacked, doing some good."
"Is it what you want from life?" asked Andromeda.
"To be honest, I was hoping to be half of a couple and working as an Auror" said Harry "And that was all a failure."
"You're not cut out for that. What about the Black family business" she asked.
"What is it?" asked Harry.
Aunt Andromeda looked at Harry with narrowed eyes "You're the head of the family, it's your job to manage the family business."
"What is it though?" asked Harry.
"I believe we collect rents" said Andromeda "From the properties we own."
"Er" said Harry. "I sold Grimmauld place and Godric's Hollow. We don't own anything else."
"The Rental properties, not the family houses." said Andromeda that posh tone she got sometimes.
"When the Auror office checked up on me, they didn't see any other properties owned by me" said Harry.
"We own many houses, and commercial buildings" said Andromeda "It used to fund the whole extended family."
"Well, how do I find them?" asked Harry. "I've not got a list."
"Get your lawyer to do a land title search by owner" said Andromeda. Harry nodded.
"Well, goodnight. And get onto those tenants. They must not have been paying rents."
"Where would they have been paying rents?" asked Harry.
"Into our vault, of cou – " Andromeda stopped, and paled. Harry's brain caught up.
"Bother" said Harry.
"You'll need to make sure the goblins redirect the payments" said Andromeda.
"I've got an old family vault, I'll use that" said Harry.
"Number?" asked Andromeda.
"Four three two" said Harry and his Aunt's face froze. "You can't have a vault number that low. Ours was five hundred and thirteen."
"My old one was Six hundred and eighty-seven" said Harry, and Aunt Andromeda blinked "But… Potters are nobodies. They can't have had a number that low."
Harry smiled politely. "We have a deep family tree, Aunt Andromeda. Deeper than you'd think."
"And who on earth did you get four three two from?" asked Aunt Andromeda sharply. "I didn't think the numbers even went that low."
Harry shook his head "Family vault. Not your family, but mine. And I'll never say who."
"Something terrible and ancient." said Andromeda instantly "Like Eveningshades."
"Not, thankfully, Eveningshades." said Harry "What little I know of them, I don't like."
"Murderers for hire using dreadful magic to slip through house defences." said Aunt Andromeda. "It was implied they had … mingled their blood with… things."
"What, like goblins?" asked Harry.
"Foul, eldritch things that are not even creatures." said Aunt Andromeda "Which, reminds me. Teddy is not to be given steel or iron jewellery, and must not ever enter a fairy ring at a solstice. It's and old family … curse."
Harry tilted his head "A little bit of magical creature blood?" he asked, as that had sounded an awful lot like something awful from the seventh year defence syllabus.
"High elves" said Andromeda "It's where the metamorphmagus ability comes from."
"And violet eyes, and … temper issues" said Harry.
"The gain in magical power was worth it to the family at the time," said Aunt Andromeda "It's family magic, technically, so you cannot speak of it, Black of Black."
Harry shook his head "I'm lucky not to have inherited that on top of my temper" he admitted.
"You seem quite mild these days." said Andromeda.
"I still um, have occasional bursts of rage." admitted Harry "But I don't act on them." he added firmly.
"Go back to Lowry and get treated. At the next solstice, in a circle. That's soon." said Aunt Andromeda.
"I'm fine" protested Harry.
"Does it cause you discomfort?" she asked sternly.
"Well yeah" admitted Harry.
"Then you're not fine. Go get treated again." said Andromeda firmly.
"I kept having fuges from the treatment. I hate that" said Harry.
Andromeda tilted her head and frowned "He had to use that strong a dose?"
"Yes, I was mental" said Harry angrily.
"Now, that's a sign your treatment wasn't effective enough. You should be able to react calmly to anything short of a curse to the face." countered Aunt Andromeda "Or do I have to send Lowry a memo instead?"
Harry went home, wrote a letter to St Mugos and went to bed. The copy of Play-Witch in his drawer got used.
A hundred letters later, he struck more names he recognised.
Susan Bones had written him, aged eight and thanked him for defeating 'He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named'" It looked like a school assignment, really.
Then he found Lily Moon's almost identical letter. Her name rang a vague bell.
After an offer to be the face of Cleansweep brooms to a nine-year-old Harry, he found the strangest letter yet. Another polite thank-you from ... Daphne Greengrass.
'Harry Potter,
Thank you for defeating he-who-shall-not-be-named. I hope we will be friends at Hogwarts.
Yours,
Daphne Greengrass.'
Harry saved that one. It was odd to have a letter from a little Daphne Greengrass. And she'd wanted to be his friend. That hadn't exactly worked out. She was an acquaintance with a fireworks fixation.
Harry found another Ginny Weasley letter. This one just said she wanted to marry Harry Potter. It was signed 'Love Ginny Weasley 8.' Which had Harry wanting to keep it, use it as a joke and burn it all at the same time.
He must have got to a strata of letters from nineteen eighty-nine, as a lot of eight year old girls and boys had written formal looking thank-you letters. Harry cringed at it. It must have been dreadful. Writing to a celebrity your own age, because some adult wanted you to be… not a berk to them later.
The next layer of letters were from nineteen ninety. Some people like Daedelus Diggle had sent Harry a birthday card every year. Ginny Weasley had written a worrying number of letters, mostly writing about Harry Potter marrying Ginny Weasley. They went, Harry decided in the burn box.
And then, a letter from Daphne Greengrass. A long, rambling letter, tear-spotted.
Harry read the letter. She'd… been told about her sisters' illness in detail, finally. She wanted Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, who defeated the last dark lord, could he please break the curse on her little sister. She promised to… to do anything, even marry the boy-who lived, anything to save her sister.
Harry dropped the letter, and stared across the ballroom. He'd… he'd done what she asked, but just casually billed them ten thousand galleons, like … some expensive cursebreaker. Harry looked at the letter. The neat handwriting, the ink run from… probably childish tears sat there, like a horcrux, accusingly. Harry took several calming breaths, gave up and went and bought some calming draught from an apothecary. It tasted like vinegar and marshmallows and… seafood. Harry swallowed with difficulty. He sat down at his desk, already feeling calmer and looked at the letter. Both letters. He put them in the drawer. He'd deal with that later. He went back to sorting letters.
Harry was making good progress when he found another letter from Daphne Greengrass. This one short, and terse. 'Save my sister please. I'll do anything. I'll have father pay you. Please help us. I just know you're the hero who can save us.'
Harry dropped the letter to the desk and vaguely remembered Greengrass mentioning that at his tenth birthday, Professor Dumbledore had made a press statement that Harry couldn't reply to letters for safety reasons. She must have read that in the Prophet, or been told, not long after sending this desperate letter. Harry's stomach knotted. His chest tightened. He felt like an utter heel. He'd shaken the Greengrasses down, for money, when he could make money….
He put the last letter in the drawer with the other two and left to go see his lawyer, and Gringotts.
-==0==-
Mister Davis was a little surprised to see Harry. Harry was surprised to get to see a lawyer immediately.
"What can I do for you, Mister Potter?" asked Davis, looking a bit rounder than last year.
"Two things" said Harry. "The first is the priority, the second, afterwards."
Davis took out a sheet of parchment and wrote a one and a two on it.
Harry explained about the Black tenants paying into Five thirteen, and that going nowhere, and needing to go to four three two.
"Gringotts" said Davis politely "In my experience, will not refund transfers to incorrect vaults."
"They're going to keep the gold they pinched." said Harry. Davis nodded. "A large advertisement in the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly."
"And The Quibbler" Harry added.
"And The Quibbler" Davis agreed "I can draft a suitable, legally binding notice."
"Today" said Harry. Davis scribbled against number one on the parchment.
"The second thing" said Harry "Is in three parts. Work out what it will cost now, and I'll pay you immediately, and you will keep it strictly secret."
"Nothing illegal?" asked Davis "As a lawyer..."
"I have my reasons." said Harry "I want you to discreetly recover lists of property owned by me, under three family names. Black, Potter, Damn... Four names."
"Property lists?" asked Davis. "Time-consuming inquiries at the ministry."
"Four names, what will all this cost?" asked Harry.
Davis did some math on the margin of the parchment, and referred to a ledger, flicking about…
"Last time we did a search like that, it cost eighty galleons." said Davis.
"So for me?" asked Harry "Tracey told me about your entertaining policy with customers who are in arrears. This will be unlike that."
"Tracey mentioned you shook the Greengrasses down somehow" said Davis. Harry nodded, uncomfortably. "I'm very solvent."
"Three hundred galleons, and I'll refund any left over" said Davis "Vault Twelve nineteen"
"I'll be back" said Harry, and left to transfer three hundred galleons.
He had to queue, and the goblin teller was rude. "Do you want a promissory note or a transfer?" they asked.
"I want to transfer it now, so my … employee has the funds." said Harry.
"Transfer then, That's an extra galleon for a stamped receipt." said the goblin.
He went back to Wilkes Davis, and gave Davis the receipt.
Davis raised his wand and performed a privacy charm.
"Black, Potter, Peverell, and Slytherin" said Harry.
"Slytherin?" asked Davis, with a snort.
"I'm a parselmouth, and I have the lowest numbered vault you've ever heard of" said Harry. "I keep the scroll for that in my vault. I like to keep a low profile. My uncle made being a parselmouth the mark of evil."
"Your uncle?" asked Davis.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Though he called himself Lord Voldemort." said Harry "He used the vault, and I had to get it dis-embargoed under the Proceeds of crimes act."
"And it did not contain vast wealth" said Davis blandly.
"No, but it's quite healthy now" said Harry.
Davis wrote four names down and charmed the page to go blank.
Davis looked up from his parchment "Wait a tick,… Astoria Malfoy's looking remarkably unremarkably healthy now. Was that what you did?"
Harry nodded "Family magic. I have a lot to draw on."
"Well, yes, the Slytherin magics must be…. Amazing" said Davis. "But that's strictly confidential."
"And if you leak it, I will very unhappy" said Harry, and he smiled "My uncle would torture you now, just so you knew he was serious."
"Not a legacy you intend to emulate?" asked Davis very drily.
"Not at all." said Harry "I'm even getting some more treatment for ... things. Should improve my temper a bit."
"You did get a singular reputation as an Auror." said Davis mildly "You Made Mad-Eye Moody look like a little girl who'd lost her dolly."
"He was a great man, but he died doing something we could, have avoided doing , in hindsight." said Harry.
"The thing about hindsight" said Davis "Is that, in hindsight, you can always criticise yourself."
Harry frowned then nodded "Well, I've got job applications to look over."
"Really" asked Davis.
"I'm hiring some people to fill in thank-you cards for eighteen years of mail." said Harry "Goodbye."
"Have you got enough cards?" asked Davis.
"Bugger" said Harry, and Davis laughed.
Harry thought for a bit "Erm, the Blacks own property elsewhere. Sadly the records are gone, Gringotts."
"I have a technique" said Davis "Audit records. The Blacks will have been audited and copies of all major assets titles will be in the file."
"Isn't that easier and quicker than title searches?" asked Harry.
"And that's how I make a profit" said Davis brightly.
Harry left before he swore at Davis.
