Welcome back, y'all! I still hope you're all enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it.
A guest review makes a good point about Elizabeth II's handling of this fictional situation and the current situation revolving around the Duke of York. My position is that, oddly enough, both are completely in character. Heather is trying her best to hide the abuse; she's not accusing a member of the Queen's family of impropriety, or asking for compensation or anything. In addition, there's a big difference between seeing the victim who's just trying to move on with her life, and the one who, as far as I saw, only came forward after another scandal exploded and asked for money 20 years after the abuse. Let it be known that I am not saying that's how it actually happened. I have no in-depth knowledge of the case. But something about it (maybe the timing on the woman's side) feels fishy. My take on the whole thing is that both parties have some fault – Andrew back then, his accuser more recently.
Prepare for the mind-breaking legalese – if you can't guess by the chapter title, we finally get to read the contract!
Originally posted: 23 Jul 2022
Most recent update: 08 Sept 2022
Looking down at the parchment in her hands, Heather cleared her throat. "'Be it so known that on this day–'"
"You may skip to the relevant parts," Elizabeth ordered.
"Actually, she can't," Gorthunk cut in. "Every word in that document must be heard or read by, at minimum, the two parties to be wed. It's a standard enchantment on all betrothal and marriage contracts that Gringotts handles; it minimizes misunderstandings over what is expected of them." Leveling a glare at the Goblin, the raven-haired girl grumbled unintelligibly for a breath.
The queen's lips quirked upwards. "Very well, then. Carry on, Heather."
"Uh," the teen flushed, "I'm just gonna start over. 'Be it so known that on this day, the 23rd of February, in the year of our Lord 1712, and in this ninth year of the combined reign of Anne, Queen of Great Britain (formerly of England and Scotland), France, and Ireland–' Cor blimey," she rolled her eyes. "That's still a bloody mouthful."
"That – is an accurate assessment of anything written in legalese," Elizabeth cringed. "I read too much of it myself. I commiserate with you."
"They hadn't standardized spellings yet," Heather drawled. "I saw at least nine different spellings of 'party' or 'parties', and six of 'contract'."
The queen's eyes widened as she contemplated having to deal with that herself. "You win."
"I forfeit."
"Too late."
Tony and Gorthunk snorted; Peggy grinned. "Hmmm," Heather growled playfully. "Where was I… Ah. '–and Ireland, we, the undersigned, do freely consent to the following terms and conditions as listed in this magical contract of marriage between the Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and the Ancient and Noble House of Stark, hereafter referred to as 'family' singularly, or 'families' collectively.'"
"What, exactly, is an Ancient and Noble House?" Peggy wondered. "What are the requirements to be called such?"
"I… don't rightly know," Heather confessed. "I grew up in the Muggle – sorry, the mundane world, and a lot of things seem to be taught at home when the kids are growing up."
"An Ancient and Noble House has met the requirements for both descriptors," Gorthunk explained without prompting. "To be 'Ancient,' the line must be traced back a minimum of 700 years unbroken – in other words, without the headship going through a Squib or to a witch's child; if it does, there must be at least three generations of magicals in the new line for the family to petition for the use of their ancestors' honorific. The Stark family goes back a thousand years, now; the Potter line is closing in on 'Most Ancient,' 1,300 years unbroken – actually, if I remember correctly, you should reach that milestone in about a year and a half. 'Noble' is a bit more difficult to define so clearly: the Starks gained it by donating the initial funds to get one of the precursors of the Ministry of Magic up and running; the Potters, by warding several castles, including Edinburgh and the Tower of London – which, come to think of it, may have the line ennobled in the Muggle World as well; each of the Hogwarts' Founders' lines by, well, founding Hogwarts."
"Fascinating," Tony muttered sincerely.
"I wish Hogwarts taught this," Heather concurred. "But they don't actually care about minimizing tensions between the cultures or better integrating the ones born outside their society." She sighed and looked down at the scroll. "'The scions of said families to whom this contract applies are hereafter referred to as 'parties' collectively, or singularly, 'party' with identifying descriptors applied as necessary. This contract shall be legal in both Magical society and Muggle society. Be this contract broken unintentionally or due to the premature death of one or both parties, provided the other has not acted untowardly, no penalty shall be assessed. If this contract be left unfulfilled by choice of either party or otherwise broken intentionally after it be activated, may Magic judge the party responsible.'"
"That's just a fancier, slightly less ominous way of saying, 'lose your magical ability or your life,' right?" Tony double- checked.
"Yup," she replied, with Gorthunk nodding as well. "'Without restriction to family, one party must be male, the other female.'"
When the teen didn't immediately continue, Peggy gave voice to her thoughts. "So far, aside from the self-reference, and the gender requirement, there is nothing to suggest an impending marriage. And how do you know it means the two of you? There must be thousands of Starks, millions of Potters!"
"Not in the magical world," the Goblin replied, a brass badge glinting in contrast to the *Midori* green vest that was the uniform of Gringotts' account managers. "Our records are verified by magic. The last member of the Magical House of Potter is the teenager in this room. Her Father's line was cursed–"
"I knew it," she muttered to herself and Tony, who coughed softly in amusement.
"–sometime before the year 1100," Gorthunk went on obliviously, "to produce at most one male heir per generation 'until the snake's line becomes one with the lion's.' That was, of course, around the same time that Eleanor, last of the Gryffindor name, married Edgar of Strathmore, the great-great-grandfather of Ignotus Peverell. And even though he was the youngest of three brothers, he was the only one to have a recognized heir; one died childless, the other with an illegitimate child only. The wizards' copy of this information, and many more records, seem to have been misplaced or lost during the Interregnum.
"By virtue of happenstance," he continued, "the last member of the Magical House of Stark is the human male in the room. Aside from his direct paternal line, all other potential claimants to the House come from females who married into other families, thus disqualifying their offspring from being part of their birth family, or from Squib lines, which means that they, too, are ineligible. These are the only two people on the planet to whom that contract can apply."
"I get why you didn't want to read every word, when it was just us," Tony sighed, giving her a brief hug. "I mean, everything you just detailed, little gem? I had already kinda assumed. Or hoped, in the case of the accidental-breaking thing."
"Same here," Heather purred as he rubbed her neck. "Besides, magic brought the contract to us, the only intermediary being the post owl. Like calls to like, blood to its own. Our ancestors and predecessors signed in blood."
"Our magic is in our blood," Tony quoted her. "Anything written or attested in our blood is our bond."
"And bonds of blood are unbreakable," she finished with him, both grinning.
"See?" he teased. "I listen!"
"Except to names," she laughingly countered.
"Tell me it's not an improvement," he argued, then pensively added, "Fold-More, Dark Lord of the Laundromat still –"
"What?!" All three of the others sputtered in disbelief, Gorthunk's cough being the loudest.
"He'd've killed me more painfully than if I used his birth name," the teen giggled, her grin wide enough to hurt, "but I'm sure calling him that to his face would have been worth whatever torture he could come up with. I never said it wasn't an improvement; I said you don't listen to names. If you did, you wouldn't get 'platypus' from 'Rhodes.'" Peggy snorted, nodding her agreement. "We could do this all day, but I doubt it'll make this any easier to read, especially this next part."
Tony immediately sobered. "Of-age?"
"Yup," she sighed. Steeling herself, she raised the scroll to read, "'This contract shall only become valid when both parties are of-age, and–' Actually, let's deal with just that, first. It's pretty much the only phrase in this entire thing that's even slightly ambiguous."
"One comes of age at 18," Elizabeth commented. "That's hardly ambiguous."
"That's what I said," Tony agreed, "and we'd be right – if we were only dealing with the non-magical world. Magicals apparently come of age at 17. Something about family magic and cores? Heather doesn't quite know." As one, the four humans turned inquiringly to Gorthunk, their resident expert on the magical world.
"Don't look at me," the Goblin shrugged. "I can confirm the age, but I don't understand human magic and culture."
"Then how do you know how our families became noble?" Tony wondered. "Wouldn't that fall into the 'culture' side of things?"
"The families were enthusiastic in telling us, proud of the achievements," Gorthunk smirked. "It also helped elevate their accounts within the bank. The six families I mentioned all previously used their higher positions to lobby for creatures' rights and protections. The first three liaisons between the Goblins and wizards were, in fact, a Stark, a Hufflepuff, and a Potter."
"And there are emancipated minors," Peggy reluctantly added to their case as she got them back on topic.
"And then we come to me. Was one of my ancestors also cursed with the inability to lead a quiet, stress-free life?" Heather whined to Gorthunk. "Does it manifest in untameable hair?" The Goblin's lips twitched upward in schadenfreude. With a sigh, she looked at the older women. "Have either of you heard of the Triwizard Tournament?" Predictably, neither had. "It's a gladiatorial-type competition held for three European schools of magic. If I remember Dumbledore's speech properly, it had been discontinued because the death toll mounted too high. The officials reinstating it ensured," she sneered mockingly, "that only those of-age – meaning 17 or older – could enter. One champion per school."
The teen closed her eyes, and Tony rubbed her back in support. "Guess who was selected as the fourth competitor in the three-person contest." She gave a dark, mirthless half-grin. "I didn't enter myself, nor did I ask an of-age student or a teacher to enter me. But they – the adults responsible for me, that is – forced me to compete. So, according to magic, I am of age."
"As of the 24th of November," Gorthunk confirmed.
"Why did it take months for the contract to reach either of us," she asked without accusation, "let alone both?"
"You are, still, far younger than the phrase 'of-age' implies," the Goblin reminded her. "There was no rush. But being in each other's presence brought everything forward."
The soulmates nodded their acceptance of the logic. "Okay, so we're all agreed; I am of-age, as far as the magic of the contract is concerned. And with Tony being male, and me female, and of the named families, this contract is valid." Sounds of assent, reluctant though Elizabeth's was, filled the air. "Brill. Going on: '–and enforced if neither party is betrothed, or equivalent, or better, when the younger party comes of age, by either their own choice or that of their Head of House or Regent–'"
"HA!" Gorthunk jumped up triumphantly. "Dumbledore only ever claimed to be the proxy! The blay garoth he negotiated with the Prewitt-born tolchaltair-oir cannot supersede this! Oh, Teutalep, I praise you!"
The humans, bewildered, sat in silence while the account manager danced exultantly. "I must be insane," Heather mumbled to Tony, both blinking slowly between long, wary stares. "We humans always complain about Goblins being rather taciturn, but I think I prefer that to this 'oh happy day' exuberance." Elizabeth coughed lightly. "Um… 'Head of House or Regent, or if neither party is otherwise contracted to another, under the previous stipulations, at the same point in time after both parties have come of age.'"
"I assume, Heather, that your father never made a contract for you?" the queen remarked.
"Potters, this document being the only exception I know of," Gorthunk explained the girl's unknown family history as he returned to his seat, "don't do betrothals as dynastic arrangements or business transactions. Generally, they use them more like… I believe non-magical society uses the phrase 'prenuptial agreements.'"
"Plus, my mum was a Muggleborn," Heather shot back drily. "Regardless of tradition, do you really think she would've allowed him to?"
Peggy rolled her eyes. "So what you're telling us is that we're only here because the playboy serving as your chair decided to be the World's Most Eligible Bachelor for as long as possible."
Tony's eyes flashed dangerously as he snapped, "We're soulmates, Aunt Peggy. This would have happened a couple years from now, under normal circumstances."
"If I'd survived the graveyard," Heather grumbled under her breath, shuddering in memory.
"One of your ancestors was a Seer, Tony," Gorthunk interrupted. "Felicity Crane married Jacob Stark, the father of Henry, who signed the contract. According to my predecessor's notes, she had a great influence on the conditions under which it would be enacted and the language with which it was written. And even already being married wouldn't have changed much except when it would have come to fruition – finding one's soulmate is the only reason one's magical marriage can be annulled."
Silence fell briefly. Tony shifted resolutely in his chair, turning slightly away from his aunt, angry that she could accuse him like that. Peggy, equally peeved, shot the pair dark looks that fell just short of glares. Gulping, Heather looked back at the scroll in her hand and found where she had left off. "Oh, here's where my guardianship comes into question – 'If this contract be enforced before both parties reach the customary legal age of majority, guardianship of the younger immediately falls to the elder.'"
"And that's why you need dual citizenship," Elizabeth realized. "A Peer of the Realm must have citizenship in said realm."
Heather coughed, lowering the parchment to stare at the older woman. "What – dual citizenship? Peer of the Realm?" she repeated, somewhere between incredulous and uncomprehending.
"Did you... not hear me mention your mother's investiture?" the monarch questioned hesitantly.
"Or how we've referred to you as 'Lady Potter'?" Peggy chimed in.
"'Lord and Lady' are used rather ubiquitously in the magical world by those who have, or rather had, political power," Gorthunk disclosed for his younger client, who was lost for words. "Lucius Malfoy was one of the most vocal about being shown that respect, although, as far as I'm aware, the only extant families that might have the right to the title are the Potters, the Starks, the Longbottoms, and the Blacks, and not through his wife as he thought."
"We really must have an audience with the magical government about their priorities and propriety," the queen grumbled to herself before turning to the overwhelmed teen to explain more clearly, "Your mother was granted an earldom during her years at Hogwarts, for keeping my government, and in turn me, apprised of the tension and terrorist actions during the war against Voldemort. Considering the civil war in which she was living, and you were born, she requested that inheritance be male-preference instead of the customary male-only, which I felt reasonable. Earlier, Gorthunk said that, recently, you permanently ended the threat posed by–" Her lips twitched in amusement. "–the Dark Lord of the Laundromat. Such an act should be rewarded. I do believe I can persuade Prime Minister Major that such elevation is warranted."
"Elevation?" The girl's eyes widened. Clearly, her mind was short-circuiting.
"And of course," Her Majesty went on, smirking at her discomfort, "you'll be knighted for your own efforts, as well. Hmm, I don't believe I should personally take you on as a ward – I'm not getting any younger, you know. How do you feel about my son?"