Title: Wisdom From The Dark 08
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 8: An Oath Disavowed
The Portkey was unpleasant. Every time he felt the familiar, yet strange tug behind his navel, Harry fought the urge to panic. Since the Third Task the sensation was associated with powerlessness, with encroaching danger. But the Portkey was essential so he pushed away his panic. The device would get him away from England instantaneously, he could start gathering resources when he was safe from the Ministry. Regardless of the nausea, he help tightly onto the object.
A second of plummeting and he had arrived. Darkness gave way to the light of the Parisian Nexus and he breathed a sigh. As he walked he experienced his first breath as a free man. The tension that has plagued his bones washed away with each cleansing footstep. The atmosphere buzzed with rapid and incomprehensible French. Where the British Hub was oppressively dull, the Paris counterpart was painfully bright. Shining white porcelain tile and vibrant hued tapestries adorned any free wall space. Despite the difference in ambiance both bore the same, if not moreso, impressive flow of people. To Harry it has seem he had jumped from a sea of people into veritable ocean of humanity. The anonymity heartened Harry as he meandered through the surging tide of bodies.
He had never been taught French so he was at a loss to speak to any one. But that didn't matter. Paris was but a stopover. He merely walked until he reached one of the ubiquitous information desks. After struggling lingually with the person in the kiosk, he finally got his point across. He bought pouch of Floo powder and made it to one of the many roaring fir pits that illuminated the massive ivory hall. Assured that it was connected to the Floo network by the frustrating lady at the help desk, he flung a pinch of powder into the blaze, turning it green. As he walked into the inferno he clearly stated his destination. "Marduk, Henrik, Falkirk and Associates, Marseilles Branch." With those words he was rocketed across to the southern coast of France where his family's executer was situated. The Floo network accounted for the linguistic barrier. Magic was good like that.
***
He landed on his feet this time but still slide. It seemed he would eventually get the hang of Floo travel. He didn't know how Ron and them did so easily; practice he guessed. Then he winced with guilt. He hadn't thought of Ron or anybody at Hogwarts since he parted ways with Percy. He wouldn't be much of a friend to Ron or Hermione now, hundreds of miles away. Falstaff and Fudge's actions assured that any of the roots he was beginning to plant were severed. When the minster allowed the public to know of the assault, he would most likely put a negative spin on it. A Death Eater attack had happened and Fudge was likely working desperately to cover it up. The vow of secrecy and the trial was proof of that. Harry jerked his head back and forth to shake out the depressing thoughts. He had work to do. In his melancholy he had failed to observe his surroundings. The room he was in contained only the one fireplace. it was large and the blaze was about eight feet high. Towards the door was narrow corridor made narrower by two rows of parallel pillars. All and all the architecture seemed quite gothic. Hoisting the trunk on his shoulder Harry trekked down the torch lit hall to a large set of well preserved oak doors. A large brass door knocker was fixed in the center of the left door and Harry reached out and used it to full effect. With a load creak the door swung open and Harry stepped through. He was greeted by a smartly attired man wearing a set of formal robes.
Before the man could utter so much as a "bienvenue" Harry uttered the universal greeting of any tourist. "Je n'ai parle pas le francais." The man glanced at Harry's casual clothing and sniffed.
'Oui, I see that now." He remarked in heavily accented English. 'Come wit me Mr....?"
"Potter. I believe Mr. Marduk handles the estate of my departed family. The will doesn't give any particulars, just a direction to this place" Harry supplied. He knelt and pooped open his trunk and flashed the copy of the will at the man."
'You are fortunate Mr. Potter, Monsieur Marduk has not yet departed for lunch. I will see if will met you. " The man hurried up a set of stairs and left Harry alone in the main hall. It was small but the materials used in the reflected a tasteful opulence. Harry was examining a bust of one of the founders of the firm when the man returned. He seemed surprised when he said "Monsieur Marduk will see you immediately." With that he guided the young wizard up the staircase and into a spacious office on the third floor.
"Ah Monsieur Potter, I am Martine Marduk. To what do I owe the privilege of your visit. I had not expected you for another three years, no?" Marduk was slim man dressed in pale blue silk robes, He reached out with a many ringed hand to grasp Harry's own, shaking it above his desk. Harry presented the lawyer with the copy of the will he had gotten from the archive. "I wish to know the details of my families wealth. Ihe matter has grown quite urgent."
"Ah, but I cannot do that until reach the age of majority, when you come of age as it were." Marduk replied apologetically. Harry plucked the sentence transcript from his back pocket. Marduk took it and practically collapsed in his chair. After he digested the importance of the document he spoke in a level voice. "That is a different story then isn't it. Jean Paul?" The french man who had led Harry to the office appeared at the door, "Fetch the Potter file, get Maurice to help you." The man scurried off.
"It will take some time, would you care for some refreshment young master?" Harry assented to the some tea and moments later he was balancing a delicate china mug in his fingers. Marduk leaned back in his chair and began to speak as a pair of men entered the room. "My deepest sympathies are with you Monsieur Potter." The men deposited what can only be described as a tome on the desk. The pages looked yellow from age and the binding was ornate. On the front were intricate etchings of silver and glyphs of platinum that had no meaning to Harry "But these unfortunate times are not without benefit. The actions of your Minster Fudge and that court ruling have speeded up the natural course of events. Though you are an expatriate, the history of you family has entitled you to a vast inheritance. Your Gringott's vault is merely a trust fund to insure your self-sufficiency, to cover your expenses until you graduate from a magical education. Your exile means you inherit now."
He paused for a sip of his own tea while Harry listened raptly. Marduk pried it open and sneezed loudly was cloud of dust billowed from the large book. "Printed on these pages is the sum of the Potter estate across Europe and Eurasia. The landes in Germany, Russia, Italy and here in France; Controlling shares in the Eastern European Flooways and the Northern Conglomerate of Sorcerers; verified possession of enchanted objects, both rare and common." He named this things from a few of the pages he idly flipped though. "All these things are now yours and have been yours since you handed me the proof of your banishment. So you see, you're a rich man Monsieur Potter."
Rather than being impressed by this revelation Harry chose a different tactic. "I've been relatively wealthy since I first opened my vault four years ago. How much, in galleons, do I possess in liquid assets?"
Marduk merely flipped to the back of the book and waved away the dust that action stirred up. "Here we go. Approximately two hundred million galleons. This balance has accumulated over the years the account lay dormant, that is the first fourteen of your life. Prior to that half of the profits per annum had been re-invested by your brokerage firm in accordance with you departed father's wishes. If you desire I can recommend to your agents to return to the old investment pattern."
"That would be fine. Would you be able to find me a place to stay, preferable a hotel, and straighten out my rather, unexpected, arrival in France. ?"
"But of course, I well get Jean Paul to make arrangements. Will you need anything else?"
"No. For now that will do." Unexcepted but not unwelcome, Harry's new status settled rather comfortably on his shoulders. Though it did little to displace the grim burdens he already bore, it made them seem less daunting.
***
Tallard Boot was squirming. Not physically but mentally. For not the first time he wrestled with his conscious. It was lunch break and he called in sick so he could avoid Fudge's little gathering. It sickened him, what Avery and Nott convinced him to do. Honeyed lies and veiled threats had caused the Ravenclaw alumni to corroborate their story. Fudge wanted it to, he could see in the little man's eyes when the Minster had questioned him. If the Minster wanted it, it had to be alright? Right?
However in the light of day his capitulation seemed more cowardly, Falstaff's actions more sinister and Fudge's claims less believable. The trial was a farce, he knew that for a fact now. But what did Fudge want? The banishment seemed to upset him. Did he really want The Boy Who Lived in Azkaban? Why was he so concerned about Death Eater activities being public knowledge? To Boot's suspicious mind the fear of public panic seemed more like manure than Ministry policy. The more he thought of it the more he disliked himself. His lie had fostered the unmitigated tripe that banished Harry Potter. He swallowed his fear and dashed across Diagon Alley to his destination. Someone needed to be told of Fudge's misdeeds. He had done a great wrong to an innocent boy. He would make it right. Boot's long walk, as it happens, occurred about the same time as Fudge called Percy Weasley to the front of the assembled Ministry. When young lawyer passionately put Fudge in his place, Tallard Boot had begun to spill his story to the Daily Prophet.
End Chapter 8
Author Notes:
Ah, the redemption of Tallard Boot. It just goes to show you that a secret can't exist between two people unless one of them is dead.
Oh and there has been numerous remarks about the much changes Percy Weasley. Personally I think his workload and the debacle with Crouch in GOF was the kick in the pants he needed.
Don't expect any updates next week, I'm out of contact and on vaction. Next chapter on the 23rd at the earliest.
I would have posted this chapter last night but FF.net was down. Oh and thanks to all my reviewers: Nighttime Sunshine, Lady FoxFire, Relle, Them Girl, Cricket, AJake, SaiyanSeker88, fan, bostionian and Otaku Freak. Reviews and feedback make me want to write more.
Author: Jyrnn
Spoilers: All four books.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They are the sole intellectual property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I gain no monetary reward for this exercise and do not intend any copyright infringement.
Summery: A child has suffered enough, an intruder encounters unexpected resistance, and the careless words of Voldemort have the most unexpected results. Harry Potter is about to take a stand.
Chapter 8: An Oath Disavowed
The Portkey was unpleasant. Every time he felt the familiar, yet strange tug behind his navel, Harry fought the urge to panic. Since the Third Task the sensation was associated with powerlessness, with encroaching danger. But the Portkey was essential so he pushed away his panic. The device would get him away from England instantaneously, he could start gathering resources when he was safe from the Ministry. Regardless of the nausea, he help tightly onto the object.
A second of plummeting and he had arrived. Darkness gave way to the light of the Parisian Nexus and he breathed a sigh. As he walked he experienced his first breath as a free man. The tension that has plagued his bones washed away with each cleansing footstep. The atmosphere buzzed with rapid and incomprehensible French. Where the British Hub was oppressively dull, the Paris counterpart was painfully bright. Shining white porcelain tile and vibrant hued tapestries adorned any free wall space. Despite the difference in ambiance both bore the same, if not moreso, impressive flow of people. To Harry it has seem he had jumped from a sea of people into veritable ocean of humanity. The anonymity heartened Harry as he meandered through the surging tide of bodies.
He had never been taught French so he was at a loss to speak to any one. But that didn't matter. Paris was but a stopover. He merely walked until he reached one of the ubiquitous information desks. After struggling lingually with the person in the kiosk, he finally got his point across. He bought pouch of Floo powder and made it to one of the many roaring fir pits that illuminated the massive ivory hall. Assured that it was connected to the Floo network by the frustrating lady at the help desk, he flung a pinch of powder into the blaze, turning it green. As he walked into the inferno he clearly stated his destination. "Marduk, Henrik, Falkirk and Associates, Marseilles Branch." With those words he was rocketed across to the southern coast of France where his family's executer was situated. The Floo network accounted for the linguistic barrier. Magic was good like that.
***
He landed on his feet this time but still slide. It seemed he would eventually get the hang of Floo travel. He didn't know how Ron and them did so easily; practice he guessed. Then he winced with guilt. He hadn't thought of Ron or anybody at Hogwarts since he parted ways with Percy. He wouldn't be much of a friend to Ron or Hermione now, hundreds of miles away. Falstaff and Fudge's actions assured that any of the roots he was beginning to plant were severed. When the minster allowed the public to know of the assault, he would most likely put a negative spin on it. A Death Eater attack had happened and Fudge was likely working desperately to cover it up. The vow of secrecy and the trial was proof of that. Harry jerked his head back and forth to shake out the depressing thoughts. He had work to do. In his melancholy he had failed to observe his surroundings. The room he was in contained only the one fireplace. it was large and the blaze was about eight feet high. Towards the door was narrow corridor made narrower by two rows of parallel pillars. All and all the architecture seemed quite gothic. Hoisting the trunk on his shoulder Harry trekked down the torch lit hall to a large set of well preserved oak doors. A large brass door knocker was fixed in the center of the left door and Harry reached out and used it to full effect. With a load creak the door swung open and Harry stepped through. He was greeted by a smartly attired man wearing a set of formal robes.
Before the man could utter so much as a "bienvenue" Harry uttered the universal greeting of any tourist. "Je n'ai parle pas le francais." The man glanced at Harry's casual clothing and sniffed.
'Oui, I see that now." He remarked in heavily accented English. 'Come wit me Mr....?"
"Potter. I believe Mr. Marduk handles the estate of my departed family. The will doesn't give any particulars, just a direction to this place" Harry supplied. He knelt and pooped open his trunk and flashed the copy of the will at the man."
'You are fortunate Mr. Potter, Monsieur Marduk has not yet departed for lunch. I will see if will met you. " The man hurried up a set of stairs and left Harry alone in the main hall. It was small but the materials used in the reflected a tasteful opulence. Harry was examining a bust of one of the founders of the firm when the man returned. He seemed surprised when he said "Monsieur Marduk will see you immediately." With that he guided the young wizard up the staircase and into a spacious office on the third floor.
"Ah Monsieur Potter, I am Martine Marduk. To what do I owe the privilege of your visit. I had not expected you for another three years, no?" Marduk was slim man dressed in pale blue silk robes, He reached out with a many ringed hand to grasp Harry's own, shaking it above his desk. Harry presented the lawyer with the copy of the will he had gotten from the archive. "I wish to know the details of my families wealth. Ihe matter has grown quite urgent."
"Ah, but I cannot do that until reach the age of majority, when you come of age as it were." Marduk replied apologetically. Harry plucked the sentence transcript from his back pocket. Marduk took it and practically collapsed in his chair. After he digested the importance of the document he spoke in a level voice. "That is a different story then isn't it. Jean Paul?" The french man who had led Harry to the office appeared at the door, "Fetch the Potter file, get Maurice to help you." The man scurried off.
"It will take some time, would you care for some refreshment young master?" Harry assented to the some tea and moments later he was balancing a delicate china mug in his fingers. Marduk leaned back in his chair and began to speak as a pair of men entered the room. "My deepest sympathies are with you Monsieur Potter." The men deposited what can only be described as a tome on the desk. The pages looked yellow from age and the binding was ornate. On the front were intricate etchings of silver and glyphs of platinum that had no meaning to Harry "But these unfortunate times are not without benefit. The actions of your Minster Fudge and that court ruling have speeded up the natural course of events. Though you are an expatriate, the history of you family has entitled you to a vast inheritance. Your Gringott's vault is merely a trust fund to insure your self-sufficiency, to cover your expenses until you graduate from a magical education. Your exile means you inherit now."
He paused for a sip of his own tea while Harry listened raptly. Marduk pried it open and sneezed loudly was cloud of dust billowed from the large book. "Printed on these pages is the sum of the Potter estate across Europe and Eurasia. The landes in Germany, Russia, Italy and here in France; Controlling shares in the Eastern European Flooways and the Northern Conglomerate of Sorcerers; verified possession of enchanted objects, both rare and common." He named this things from a few of the pages he idly flipped though. "All these things are now yours and have been yours since you handed me the proof of your banishment. So you see, you're a rich man Monsieur Potter."
Rather than being impressed by this revelation Harry chose a different tactic. "I've been relatively wealthy since I first opened my vault four years ago. How much, in galleons, do I possess in liquid assets?"
Marduk merely flipped to the back of the book and waved away the dust that action stirred up. "Here we go. Approximately two hundred million galleons. This balance has accumulated over the years the account lay dormant, that is the first fourteen of your life. Prior to that half of the profits per annum had been re-invested by your brokerage firm in accordance with you departed father's wishes. If you desire I can recommend to your agents to return to the old investment pattern."
"That would be fine. Would you be able to find me a place to stay, preferable a hotel, and straighten out my rather, unexpected, arrival in France. ?"
"But of course, I well get Jean Paul to make arrangements. Will you need anything else?"
"No. For now that will do." Unexcepted but not unwelcome, Harry's new status settled rather comfortably on his shoulders. Though it did little to displace the grim burdens he already bore, it made them seem less daunting.
***
Tallard Boot was squirming. Not physically but mentally. For not the first time he wrestled with his conscious. It was lunch break and he called in sick so he could avoid Fudge's little gathering. It sickened him, what Avery and Nott convinced him to do. Honeyed lies and veiled threats had caused the Ravenclaw alumni to corroborate their story. Fudge wanted it to, he could see in the little man's eyes when the Minster had questioned him. If the Minster wanted it, it had to be alright? Right?
However in the light of day his capitulation seemed more cowardly, Falstaff's actions more sinister and Fudge's claims less believable. The trial was a farce, he knew that for a fact now. But what did Fudge want? The banishment seemed to upset him. Did he really want The Boy Who Lived in Azkaban? Why was he so concerned about Death Eater activities being public knowledge? To Boot's suspicious mind the fear of public panic seemed more like manure than Ministry policy. The more he thought of it the more he disliked himself. His lie had fostered the unmitigated tripe that banished Harry Potter. He swallowed his fear and dashed across Diagon Alley to his destination. Someone needed to be told of Fudge's misdeeds. He had done a great wrong to an innocent boy. He would make it right. Boot's long walk, as it happens, occurred about the same time as Fudge called Percy Weasley to the front of the assembled Ministry. When young lawyer passionately put Fudge in his place, Tallard Boot had begun to spill his story to the Daily Prophet.
End Chapter 8
Author Notes:
Ah, the redemption of Tallard Boot. It just goes to show you that a secret can't exist between two people unless one of them is dead.
Oh and there has been numerous remarks about the much changes Percy Weasley. Personally I think his workload and the debacle with Crouch in GOF was the kick in the pants he needed.
Don't expect any updates next week, I'm out of contact and on vaction. Next chapter on the 23rd at the earliest.
I would have posted this chapter last night but FF.net was down. Oh and thanks to all my reviewers: Nighttime Sunshine, Lady FoxFire, Relle, Them Girl, Cricket, AJake, SaiyanSeker88, fan, bostionian and Otaku Freak. Reviews and feedback make me want to write more.