Chapter – 15:
James P.O.V
James scowled at the letter in his hand. Getting out of Hogwarts wouldn't be too hard. After all, permission from the family was all he needed to convince McGonagall to let him go. What did annoy him, was that he was supposed to head to Gringotts.
Gringotts wasn't too bad normally. But having to deal with goblins was a test of patience, self-control, intelligence and money. James had two of that in vast amounts, but patience and self-control had never and would never be his strong suit.
He knew what this was about though, officially announcing his heirship of the Potter family, even if everyone already knew that he was heir. He had finally turned 16 this year and the appointment with Gringotts was finalized only recently. Of course, everything had to be done in Gringotts, because that's where the money was stored.
"Don't frown so much dear," the mirror chided, and James looked at it sharply. It shut up with an annoyed click. He pushed his glasses up his nose, absently.
The dorm was silent, for once and James wished it wasn't so. He wanted the noise that came along with Sirius and the steady presence Remus offered. And most of all Peter's logical reassurances. James wanted to bounce or pace or just go back to sleep, but he couldn't do that. Checking his pockets, and glancing around the room to see if he'd left anything important outside, James nodded once.
With a mental pep talk about how this would be very nice and calm and not crazy at all, James stalked off to McGonagall's office, the crinkled letter on the floor of the dorm room.
"James!" Euphemia Potter, aka mum, said as soon as she caught sight of him. Within a second, he was being hugged so tightly he could barely breath. Sometimes, she acted as though she hadn't seen him for years.
Fleamont, aka dad, turned at the exclamation and smiled at James from behind mum's shoulder. Truly, dad never did save James from suffocating to death. It should be considered a crime.
"Glad you could make it, James." Dad smiled at him, and James scowled playfully in response.
"You didn't exactly give me a choice now, did you?"
"Hush, James." Mum admonished, grabbing onto his arm and dragging dad along as well. "We've got some appointments to keep and if we can manage it, you'll be free to go by the evening."
James exchanged a look with dad. This was a new level of optimism for mum, but well, sometimes that's how she was. James didn't expect to leave until at least 9, and that was if everything went well.
"Account Manager," Dad nodded to the goblin standing in front of the door they had stopped at. "If you would please?"
The goblin leered nastily, but complied, gesturing at them to enter the room.
James disliked goblins with a passion, but he was still forced to behave well toward them as his duty as heir to his family. They kept the Potter's wealth safe and in return James and every heir had to behave well.
"We'll start with registering James Potter as our heir," dad started, and James paid the least amount of attention he could manage without being called out. This was the most boring thing to ever happen. He could do this in his sleep, he'd practiced so much for it when he was younger.
There was a blood seal, using James and dad's blood; a sworn oath not to reveal family secrets and to protect the family name to his best ability; and finally, a ring presentation ceremony.
"A vial of blood." The goblin handed him a long, thin vial and gestured for him to fill it. Cursing goblins and their random tests, James picked up the pocket knife in his pocket, and nicked his palm, letting the blood flow.
All this was standard, since his parents consented to him being heir. If he had to prove it on the other hand, without their permission, it would be extremely difficult and time consuming.
"Your oaths?" The goblin seemed as bored of this as James was nervous.
Dad started asking the questions, and James answered – shoulders back, stance wide and voice clear. He was confident and ready to get this done with.
If he had to become a lord without permission, there were so many more steps. A blood test, comparing his to the previous Potter's blood; then, a test of intelligence; a magical accomplishment acknowledged by the International Confederation; an agreement from at least three current members of the family and finally, the sworn oaths and appeal to magic.
It was difficult and almost impossible.
"James Fleamont Potter is confirmed as the Potter Heir." The goblin droned and James hastily put on the ring. "You may leave."
"Thank you," Dad said, and they left the bank. James grinned, as soon as they were out on Diagon Alley in the sunshine.
"Shall we go to the Dragon's Head Inn?" Mum asked, and James glanced between his parents, confused.
"I thought we were done with family business?" James dragged his feet slightly as they walked deeper into Diagon Alley. "What are we doing now?"
"We aren't even slightly done, James," dad said, "and we'll tell you everything when there aren't so many people eavesdropping."
James snapped his mouth shut and walked quicker. He wanted to get back to Hogwarts and plan the next competition with Sirius, or help Peter with his Transfiguration theory, or discuss dark creatures with Remus. He had exams in a few weeks for Merlin's sake, he shouldn't be gallivanting around Diagon Alley!
The Dragon's Head Inn was the most expensive place in Diagon Alley, off the main street. The best part about it was that it exited to not just Diagon Alley, but also Muggle London, on the other side of the Leaky Cauldron. It was essentially the richer part of town, for magicals with enough money to sponsor the inn.
It was a cheerful place - polished floors and windows with sunlight streaming through, shining tables and cushioned seats in combinations of the Hogwarts house colors. There were people everywhere, foreigners in Britain on business, high-paid ministry toadies trying to suck-up to get more money, rich businessmen and traders signing agreements behind private but invisible bubbles. It was a social hub.
"A private room, if you don't mind, Donna?" Mum said, kindly, to the bartender, and James looked up from making faces at his reflection on the shining ground.
"Of course, Mrs. Potter."
And James had been to this Inn since he was born. It was the only place with a Floo from London to the Portkey Headquarters in Spain, so James had been here every time the family went on vacation.
"Sit down, James." Dad pointed at the green cushioned single seat across from him, and James suppressed a grimace. He liked green, he did, but green chairs always reminded him of Sirius' house (which he had seen through their magic mirrors).
James took the longer, double seat next to his mother instead.
"So, what more do we have to discuss?" He asked, when the door closed behind Donna and mum had put up some fancy looking wards that James had to learn.
"Your invisibility cloak."
James frowned. "What about my invisibility cloak?"
"Don't worry, dear, there's nothing wrong with it." Mum said, not encouraging James in the slightest. "It's just that the cloak is the same cloak that Death gifted to Ignotus Peverell."
James spluttered and gaped. "It's the Invisibility Cloak?"
Dad shook his head, and James could see that he was laughing. "Death never gives gifts. Not really."
"Then how has the cloak stayed one for so long?" Mum looked confused as well.
Dad spoke then, weaving a story James would never have believed.
"The three brothers made items of great power, and tricked Death into blessing the gifts. But Death found out about their treachery and cursed every magical who wanted the items for themselves – they would never be able to unite the Hallows and become Master of Death. Death however, made an oversight. He placed the curse on the objects he could sense – the Elder Wand would always wish for more bloodshed; the Resurrection Stone would lead to madness and the Invisibility Cloak would be lost to the world. The curse latched onto the three objects and two of the brothers, who held the objects. Ignotus, who was under the cloak, wasn't cursed and neither was his family line."
Mum breathed sharply, even as James reeled from the story.
"And hence, the wand jumps from owner to owner, cursing each greedy one to an early grave. The stone passed from father to son, mother to daughter from Peverell to Gaunt, ruining their minds and leaving them unable to form cohesive thoughts. The cloak was passed down similarly, forgotten from the memory of the outside world as the Peverells and the Potters kept it a secret that they would take to their grave."
James pushed all the information to a side, as he focused on the present. Even if his cloak was the Invisibility Cloak, there was no way that's all there was to this story.
"What's the point of the whole story, dad?" He asked, and dad smiled, as if relieved and proud.
"The point is this, Ignotus wasn't cursed. Only Ignotus' family can hold all three Deathly Hallows and become master of Death, but that is a fool's venture because if the three hallows are united, they lose the blessing Death placed on them."
James stalked through Diagon Alley, unsure of everything he'd heard and everything that had happened. His cloak was the invisibility cloak from a story. That story was real. He could theoretically unite all the hallows, but they would lose their blessings. Lily got a letter from the future. Snape agreed that the Marauders should help. The future was terrible. Voldemort split his soul.
This was all like an extremely complicated puzzle that James didn't have all the pieces to. He didn't know everything he should; they didn't have all the information in the picture. Bloody hell, they didn't even know all the players on the board!
James was so preoccupied; he didn't notice his surroundings until he crashed into someone headfirst.
"I'm sorry," James murmured, sidestepping and going to walk around the person, before doing a double take. He knew that person!
"James?" Sirius asked, incredulous and surprised. "What're you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," James shot back, pushing his glasses onto his face roughly.
Neither spoke for a few seconds. Then, both spoke, simultaneously.
"Family business."
