Chapter 2 – Gringotts Letter
The sharp bump of the airplane's landing jerked Anya from her light slumber, informing her that she arrived at Arkhangelsk, she ran her fingers through her low ponytail and let out a groan. As comfortable as airplane flights could be, Anya preferred saving seven hours by simply taking an international portkey. Then again, with a cartel possibly tailing her, it was much easier albeit tedious to leave a country via the Muggle way. Everyone is usually too fixated on Floo routes, portkey signatures and apparition traces to even glance at an airport or train station.
A steady stream of people left the airplane and began to trickle down to the customs checkpoint. Talagi Airport was a drab first reminder of the Soviet-era Anya spent her childhood growing up in, its blocky design and dull grey and white colour scheme all too familiar.
"Natalya Polivanova?" the customs officer inquired, lazily looking down at the passport
"Da."
"Dobro pozhalovat' domoy," grunted the customs officer, stamping and unceremoniously shoving the passport back to Anya.
Leaving the arrival gates, she scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Her face perk up as she finally spotted her welcoming party, the head of short silver hair standing out amongst the crowd. Warm grey eyes were gazing at her, inspecting her for any signs of unease or injuries. The sharp clack of his ebony boots reverberated throughout the terminal as he strode over in a confident and smart gait. Donned in an elegant green jacket and sleek white pants, the middle aged man radiated an aura of superiority.
"Moya malen'kaya vorona," said the man, pulling Anya into a hug. "Ya skuchal po tebe."
"It's only been two weeks, Nathaniel," Anya replied, pulling out from him embrace. "You don't really miss me. If anything, you're glad us deti are all down in Azerbaijan."
"True," the man replied with a deep laugh, stroking his goatee, his accent was much like Anya's, indiscernible. "I haven't had that much peace and quiet in a long time. Come now, let's go."
A short drive soon took the pair to a quiet neighbourhood, blocks of flats stood row in row. The light grey brick walls and bluish-grey roofs brought a wave of familiarity over Anya, an occasional one painted in moss-green or ochre-orange bringing a touch of variety to the otherwise stale colour scheme. Birch trees lined up along just about every pothole-filled road and wild ungroomed shrubbery sprang up along the building walls. It was far from neat, it was far from inviting, but Anya grew up to love it. To her it had its own special charm.
"Anya, we're here, get your bag."
Anya obliged, heading to the boot of the car and pulling out her knapsack. She followed Nathaniel into one of the blocks. No sooner had she closed the door when a house-elf popped in, his head dipped in a low bow.
"Gospodin, devushka, allow Nippy please," and with a snap of his willowy fingers, both he and Anya's knapsack disappeared.
The pair climbed up to the third floor and a walk into one of the flats revealed not a dwelling like one would expect. Instead, the entirety of the flat has been renovated into a large dining hall, walls that divided rooms removed to make the place spacious. Nathaniel had, in fact, purchased the entire block. The first and second floor had been rented out to fellow wizards and witches, a few ignorant Muggles and a rare tolerant Muggle, with no alterations to the rooms. The upper floors on the other hand, had been mostly renovated to his preference.
Panelled floor and walls of oak seemed to be the theme for the room - for most rooms actually - and in the centre sat a long table surrounded by chairs. An elderly man sat at on the chairs, dressed thick grey robes with purple trimmings, his ashen hair touching his shoulders. A small pile galleons lay in front of him as he hunched over a thick tome, quill in one hand and pointed nose almost touching the pages.
A flicker of the eyes and a short nod was all the recognition he gave the pair.
"Anya, ty nakonets prishel, eto pis'mo tol'ko chto pribylo iz Gringotts. Vam nuzhno bu-"
"Uncle, Russian on the streets, lingua franca at home. That's how it goes in the business and that's how it will go in home." Nathaniel reminded, pulling out a seat for himself.
"As I was saying," the elder continued in a thick Russian accent, scowling at Nathaniel for the interruption. "You need to open this letter, goblin seals are in place, contents of letter will burn if unintended hands open it."
Anya took the letter and looked at it, the red Gringotts seal stamped on it, bearing its coat of arms, goblin runes along its edge and finally the words "Londinium" took place at the bottom of the seal. She then looked at the addressee.
Miss A. Potter
Floor 5, Unit 3
Partizanskaya Ulitsa, 58
Arkhangel'sk, Arkhangelskaya oblast'
Russia
"What makes you think that I'm Miss A. Potter?" Anya asked the elder, waving the letter.
"You're the only Spook I picked up in England, and the seal shows Gringotts' London Branch. I can add two and two together, devushka."
"You never told me you found me in England."
"And you never asked, surprisingly."
"Why did you pick me up anyway?"
"Why wouldn't I pick up a witch capable of accidental magic as a baby?" the elder scoffed, turning back to his tome and galleons. "Found you on a bench on a bridge, crying and completely starving. With the November cold and your inadequate clothing it was a wonder you didn't die from the cold first. Turns out you kept up a warming charm using accidental magic the whole time you were abandoned, of course I was going to pick you up with that level of innate magical capacity."
"Well, what are you staring for?" the elder demanded with a sneer, eyes never leaving the tome. "If it's a Gringotts letter, gold is involved. And I want to find out what they want."
"Ebenezer Scrooge reborn," Anya muttered, tearing open the letter and pulling out the parchment from within, pleased that it did not burn up. She began reading the letter, eyebrows rising higher and higher with each passing line.
"Well, what does it say?" the elder barked impatiently, stabbing the quill in the inkpot.
"Apparently, I'm the twin sister to Britain's famous Harry Potter and heir to half of the Potter fortune."
Nathaniel rose his eyebrows in amused curiosity, his eyes holding a sparkle of shrewdness suddenly dancing within. The elder all but barked out, "What?!" moving to snatch up the letter from Anya's hands.
Dear Miss Anne Lily Potter
Gringotts wishes you an early Happy Birthday and also wishes to remind you that you still stand available to claim your inheritance from your parents, James Potter and Lily Potter née Evans.
As your parents did not leave any registered will behind at the time if their deaths, the inheritance will default to the Potter succession law of primogeniture. However, the succession law states that twins will be treated as a single entity and thus inheritance will be treated under gavelkind. In this case, you are entitled to half of the contents of House Potter Vault, along with various assets such as overseas property.
Please note that as your twin brother Harry James Potter is the older sibling, and thus the Head of House Potter, he will inherit the House Potter Vault actual. You can set up a personal vault of your own for the transfer of your inheritance or come to an agreement with your twin brother.
However, do note that claiming your inheritance comes under certain conditions. Firstly, it is under the wish of your grandmother Dorea Potter née Black, that any daughter of the Potter complete - at the minimum - their OWL education in Hogwarts specifically in order to claim inheritance unless she is the final heir. This has been established in order to ensure that the Potter wealth can only be inherited by a responsible witch brought up under proper British wizarding culture. This addition to the Potter succession law has been installed by then Head of House, Charlus Potter, and has not changed since.
As you have yet to register under Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, this letter acts as a two year buffer reminder should you desire to claim your inheritance as you should be eligible for OWLs at the spring of 1996. Please note that this has been the thirteenth letter sent to you.
Secondly, as you have been registered as 'missing' since the winter of 1991 you will need to register your existence in order to claim your inheritance. Gringotts can understand if your status as 'missing' has been due to private reasons and as such, offers the alternative of abstaining from registering in the British Ministry of Magic and instead register in Gringotts alone. Please be reassured that your confidentiality can be protected under Gringotts.
Do note that you will have to be at Gringotts in person to register your existence, you will also be able to check the value of your inheritance there.
We look forward to meeting you. May gold ever flow through your fingers.
Goldtooth Longfinger,
Head of Gringotts Department of Inheritance.
"Blagoslovite menya," the elder muttered, eyes twinkling in obvious greed as he faced Nathaniel. "This is windfall indeed."
"At what cost?" asked Anya, coming back from the kitchen with an Invigoration Draught in hand. "Having to take up schooling in this Hogwarts. And from what I remember about magical education, I'll have quite a bit to catch up, probably need to register in the coming term if that's the case. Is the Potter fortune worth two years of my time?"
"Most likely," Nathaniel said, eyeing the vial in Anya's hand with distaste. "The Potters have multiple patents to their name, Skele-gro being one of them if I remember. As for catching up, you can spend the rest of the summer and your free time in Hogwarts doing so. I didn't completely neglect your magical education."
"That means that they will be rich," the elder grinned. "This opportunity is too good to pass up, nephew. Bring Anya to London as soon as you can."
"Of course, uncle. There is a job there for us anyway, and Anya can help out with that."
"I can?" Anya asked as she downed the entire vial, shuddering in relief.
"The four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup takes place in Britain and there's a contract I signed on with a rich wizard, just providing security. We can go to Gringotts first, look at the inheritance and make a choice. Then, we head up to the world cup site and recce the area."
"And how do I help?"
"Well, I could always use a sniper on site."
XXXXX
Harry Potter never really did enjoy his birthdays. This abruptly changed last year when Hedwig and Errol finally brought gifts, cards and well-wishes for a change, and he was pleased when this year was similar. Along with the usual array of candy, a combination of Errol, Hedwig, a Hogwarts owl and a flashy tropical bird brought him cakes and birthday cards from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and Sirius each. With the diet ongoing in the Dursley household, they were a life saver.
Life with the Dursleys had improved, albeit slightly, with Sirius' help. Having an accused mass murder for a godfather did apply good pressure on the Dursleys. However, being able to spend his birthdays with others would be a large improvement. The Weasleys, Sirius, all of them would be nice to spend birthdays with.
Or maybe your sister.
That nagging voice bit him harder than it should have, it was nice being able to rejoin your loving godfather but just as sour to learn from him that you lost your sister on the same night your parents died. He had long gotten over his parents' deaths, but this brought a fresh wave of grief.
Pettigrew had his back against the wall, eyes staring at the tip of two wands, terror etched to his face. Sirius and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.
"You should have realised," said Lupin quietly. "If Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Goodbye, Peter."
"NO!" Harry yelled. He ran forwards, placing himself in front of Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," he said breathlessly. "You can't."
Both Lupin and Sirius looked staggered.
"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you and your sister have no parents," Sirius snarled. "This cringing bit of-"
"My sister?" Harry interrupted, eyes widening in shock. "My sister?"
He turned towards Lupin, whose faced mirrored the same expression, staring at Sirius. He looked back at Sirius, the anger on Sirius' face faltered a little and he froze for a few seconds. Finally, he managed to croak out. "Isn't Anne in Hogwarts here with you?"
"Anne?"
"Don't you know who Anne Potter is?"
Harry slowly shook his head, a pit of dread pooling in his stomach. Sirius anger came back tenfold, shoved pass Harry and slashed his wand upwards. Pettigrew slammed up against the ceiling violently before falling back in a crumpled heap. Cords exploded from the tip of Sirius' wand, pinning Pettigrew hard against the wall. Pettigrew's head snapped back against the wall, knocking him out cold. Sirius moved towards the unconscious heap, trembling in rage.
"Not only did you cause the deaths of James and Lily, you had to cause a harmless girl to die too." Sirius snarled, bringing his wand up once again.
Lupin leaped forward and grabbed Sirius' arms, holding him back. "Padfoot, calm down, you need to explain what's going on. What do you mean Harry's sister?" he wheezed out as he fought hard to hold a struggling Sirius back, whose emaciated state was made up for by sheer anger. "Dammit Padfoot, I said calm down."
Sirius finally gave up on his struggle, sagging down onto his knees. His hand grabbed his hair wildly with a lost expression on his eyes. Suddenly, he pounced up and grabbed Harry's shoulder, shaking him as he asked in desperation, "Is there any girl in your year, the same black hair and green eyes as yours?"
Harry thought for a while before mutely shaking his head again. Sirius stumbled back onto the ground as though the shake of Harry's head was a blow to his gut. With shaking hands, he clenched his hand on the floorboard, fingernails scratching against wood. He started mumbling to himself in grief, "Couldn't be, it couldn't be. I could have sworn I healed it. I could have sworn I healed it. I could have sworn I healed it. What if it wasn't enough? What if by the time Dumbledore got her, the damage what beyond healing. I failed. I failed. I failed. Merlin, what have I done? I failed James, I failed Lily and now Anne. I had one job. I had one job. I HAD ONE DAMNED JOB!"
Sirius ended off the last sentence with a scream, startling everyone around. Lupin knelt beside Sirius and gently gripped his shoulders. "Breath in, breath out. Calm down, and when you feel like it can you tell us what is going on?"
"Moony, it was James and Lily. They-they had twins, it wasn't just Harry. They had a daughter as well, Harry's twin sister, Anne." Everybody's eyes widen in shock, but Sirius took no notice and continued. "I don't know why but they kept Anne a secret. It was only them, Dumbledore, me and Peter who knew about her. I'm sorry we didn't tell you about her Moony, we thought you were the spy."
"What happened to her?" Harry asked, fist clenching.
"When I went to your parents' house, I found the both of you in the nursery. You were there in the crib crying, the scar on your head still bleeding. Anne, sh-she…" Sirius faltered, covering his face with his hands and Lupin rubbed his back soothingly. "Voldemort cursed her right eye, sliced it with dark magic."
There was a collective gasp across the room, Hermione covered her mouth with her hands, tears welling up. Both Ron and Lupin winched. Harry stood frozen as Sirius continued on.
"There was blood all over her face, she was in a right mess. I rushed over and did what I could, I thought I healed her up fine. I left the house with the both of you and ran into Hagrid. I wanted to keep both of you with me, I was your godfather after all, but Hagrid insisted I pass the both of you to him, said that Dumbledore would know what to do with the both of you, and so I did. I made a mistake. I made a stupid mistake. I should have taken her straight to St. Mungo's, what was I playing at? Trying to heal her myself, and Hagrid would have taken too long to reach Dumbledore."
"It's alright Padfoot, you did what you could in the given situation. I would have done the same if I were in your shoes," Lupin said calmly, he looked at Pettigrew and back at Harry. "Well, Harry, do you still want him alive? You always had a kind heart, but I wouldn't fault you if you want him dead."
"No," Harry answered, after a long hesitation. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors. I reckon my dad wouldn't want his best mates to be murderers."
After the whole incident at the Shrieking Shack, time-turner included, Harry went straight to Hagrid's as soon as he was discharged. He did not want to ask Dumbledore about Anne, it felt wrong in his gut going to him for answers. At Hagrid's hut, a weeping Hagrid told Harry about the fate of his sister, the joyous mood from Buckbeak's escape ruined. There, Harry learnt that Dumbledore told Hagrid that Anne did not make it and succumbed to her injury. Since, almost no one knew about the existence of Anne Potter, they thought it best to avoid dredging up unnecessary grief.
It solved a puzzle Harry had back in his first year when he gazed into the Mirror of Erised. He had wondered who the girl was standing next to him. She was lithe and pretty with a scar down her right eye. However, the right eye itself – as though in defiance of the scar – seemed very much alive and sparkled curiously. She very much resembled their mother, except for the hair colour. She and Harry both bore the same raven hair – albeit neat compared to Harry's, probably inherited from Lily instead of James - and vivid green eyes. A small part of Harry still held that glimmer of hope that just maybe Dumbledore or Hagrid or even Sirius made a mistake, that it was the wrong child they picked up all along. Instead, somewhere out there was Anne Potter, living with another family. But wouldn't she have entered Hogwarts with him? Harry didn't remember any girls in his year with his black hair and green eyes.
Maybe she's a squib, or her family moved out of Britain, or sent her to a different school. There's definitely other wizarding schools besides Hogwarts.
Turning, he stared at the cake Sirius gave, his godfather went the extra length by charming a still burning candle on the cake. Wistfully, he closed his eyes and blew the candle.
Just this once, give me the chance to have my family back.