Posted 12/28/2013, Edited 12/29/2013
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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.
Chapter Thirteen - Hogsmeade
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Mid-December, the school allowed for another Hogsmeade weekend, again under heavy protections. To lessen the workload for the Aurors and simplify the protection, the weekend had been split, with students only allowed on one of the two days. It had put Harry in an unsettlingly cheery mood no one had been quite able to place. But he was happy for the very welcome excuse for another training session with his team while about half the school were gone. With all the comings and goings, it had been very difficult for the rival teams to get pointers, he had a perfectly good excuse to get his players motivated –to distract them from their lost time in town –and with already half the school missing, it would be even easier to drop off the face of the earth for a few minutes here or there.
Had anyone noticed his repeated absences, they might have believed a charming young lady to be the cause, but they would have been far off. For the first time in a while, Harry had felt real accomplishment. While still not perfect, he had reached the moment during his Occlumency lessons from which only continuous work would offer progress. In effect, he had finished one of his tasks for the year.
Spurred into action, he had begun to sneak in short exercises over the course of a day, working on the strength and speed of his defences and spells. Unless he was very much mistaken, Harry was ready to switch to defensive magic in earnest in January. Its review had been another of his side-projects in the last week, but he had had very few opportunities to work on the actual magic. Very grudgingly, he had to admit Snape had done at least part of his job –he had set a decent book. The lessons were still laughable, explanations nonexistent, and the so-called teacher just as biased as ever, but at least the book provided enough for Harry to go on. With it and Practical Defensive Magic and its Use against the Dark Arts, the joint gift from Sirius and Lupin from last year's Christmas, Harry was sure he'd progress incredibly fast. However, ever since he had learned about the true nature of magic, he found the practical side of classes easier. On the downside, the theoretical work had gotten worse -knowing it didn't matter all that much whether he kept to the official instructions or not meant he had less inclination to memorize what he knew to be unnecessary anyway.
Additionally, Neville had received an unmarked package two days ago, which he had passed to Harry without a second thought. It had contained an old book about secrecy spells as well as some pieces of parchment with hand-written explanations that seemed to replace missing pages of the book itself. Greengrass had delivered, but if Harry had to guess, she had picked the worst copy she could find. He didn't mind, happy with the small concession he had gotten from her –if he had to deal with her regularly, it was better to have a victory to back him up.
After a very tiring training on Saturday, he trudged up to the Common Room. The team had of course already left, the Captain having to lock away the balls. Peakes and Coote had developed splendidly, Harry mused. They worked well together and in a year or two would easily dominate the games, even if they didn't quite have the same teamwork as the twins. Ginny and Demelza were also very strong, the latter providing very good passes, the former playing very aggressively. With Katie and Ginny alternating as the lead and decoy, their plays would be impossible to predict. Ron was... well, he tried. Whenever he lost his nerves, his skills were equally gone, just as it had been before. But if he stayed calm, Ron really did play marvellously. Maybe Harry should ask the house to come to practice? If he could get Ron to perform in front of an audience, he might play more consistently in the actual games.
Physical training had done wonders as well. His Beaters were getting very strong, the Chasers had developed tricky spins; Ron had always been rather sturdy. Harry as the Seeker could care less about strength, but he had become surprisingly fit as well.
Musing still about the possible improvements he could make to his team, Harry stepped through the portrait hole. Katie threw him a half-hearted glare from her seat. Ron was nowhere to be seen, but either visiting the kitchen or lounging on his bed. Harry walked over to the staircase, when he collided with Colin Creevey who had stumbled down the staircase.
"Oh, sorry, Harry," the boy apologized, "I must have missed a step there. How are you doing? You were on the pitch today, weren't you? Are you happy with the team? Do you think you'll win the Cup this year?"
"Fine, I guess," Harry replied wearily. He didn't hate Colin, no matter what people said, but he did find his enthusiasm very taxing. Glancing at the boy, he noticed the books in his arms. "Are you off to the library?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that. I'm meeting McLaggen, he's tutoring me in Defence. He says he is quite good."
"McLaggen," Harry deadpanned. "Cormac? That big idiot? And why would you... ? Defence? Him? Why... ? Forget it, not my business."
"I don't know whether he's actually any good. It's just Malfoy who thought it best to keep it in the house. And I..."
"Wait, back up there!" Harry shouted. "Malfoy? What do you have to do with Malfoy?"
Colin frowned. "Well, he is the one who set up these tutoring sessions, isn't he?"
"Why would he? I mean, nothing against you, but isn't he kind of... bigoted? Why would he try to help you, a Muggleborn?" Harry pointed out.
"If he is bigoted, I haven't noticed this year. Then again, I don't really need that much help, and most of the tutored children are from the other houses," Colin said. "I only learned about it because one of the Ravenclaws from my year talked about it."
Harry still stared disbelievingly at Colin. Malfoy doing something for someone else? Where was the catch? Where was the inevitable evil? "Well, I don't want to stop you. Go on then." And with that, he walked up the stairs, still shaking his head.
Later that evening, while Ron was frantically working on an essay he had been given by Professor McGonagall, Harry told Hermione about his talk with Colin. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Harry. Yes, I know, Malfoy has never been nice in the past. But then, people grow up. Perhaps last year brought him to his senses. Have you considered he might have turned a new page?"
"I just always assumed every page in his book would read the same. A helpful Malfoy is like... a fair Snape or a sane Dumbledore or, I don't know..."
"A serious Fred, yes, I get it," Hermione added. "But Malfoy has been very active as a Prefect this year. To be honest, I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. But his tutoring seems to be going well; he's doing his duties, hands out what seems to be reasonable punishments, and works hard in class. He has stopped insulting everyone who crosses his path..."
"... after he's seen what it will cost him in the end," Harry pointed out.
"He's still acting decently," Hermione countered.
"Because he knows he's being watched, perhaps?"
"Because he's realized the evil he condoned?" Hermione replied with a raised eyebrow. "And before you claim otherwise, he's become a reliable Prefect, more than some others I know." She threw Ron an exasperated look who naturally missed it completely.
"Almost as if he's a new person?" Harry suggested. "Not surprising, if I'm correct," Harry told his friends in a low voice. He waited for a moment, throwing both meaningful glances, before continuing, "It's someone with Polyjuice Potion doing a bad job of impersonating him."
Hermione shook her head. "Oh, Harry, don't be ridiculous. Malfoy has changed. There is no secret behind it. He might not be my favourite person in the world and will probably never be, but he's not the evil incarnate you depict him as. For once, we have a normal school year, without conspiracies or attacks or beasts or lousy teachers..."
"Except Snape, he's still here," Ron threw in, looking up.
"... for once," Hermione carried on, "all we have to worry about is schoolwork."
Harry pursed his lips in thought. "Is it just me, or does that sound kind of..."
"Boring?" Ron supplied. "Yeah. Not having something around puts you on edge, always expecting something dangerous to happen like normal."
"You consider 'something dangerous' to be normal, Ronald?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Around here, it kind of is," Harry said. It was true, in a way. "Maybe that's why a nice Malfoy just doesn't make any sense –a peaceful school I can deal with, a reformed bully is just a bit too much. Am I really meant to believe he would just change completely over the summer holidays? Instead of being what he was taught to be for all his life, he is suddenly a new person?"
"Very funny. So, tomorrow Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked.
"If I get this done, then fine," Ron spoke up, "McGonagall really did go all out with this one. Hey, Hermione, 'if transfiguring into separate, but connected parts, the more distinguishable elements an object has, the more restrictive...' –what's the second law of DuMont?"
"Honestly, she told us just last year! DuMont, founder of St. Eve's, stated that the more complex transfigurations will always require, first of all, more concentration, second of all, a higher purity of intended materials..."
Harry tuned her out and went over his list of gifts he would have to buy the next day.
Sunday came bright, clear, and frosty. Once in the village, Harry quickly separated from his friends and started his small shopping trip. Most were fairly easy: For Ginny, he had managed a signed copy of Gwenog Jones' guide to professional Quidditch. Ron would get a high quality pair of working gloves. He might not like Herbology much, but he did like his fingers for some reason, and since they were handling increasingly dangerous plants and potions, the present should be fine. For Hermione, he had arranged –with Tonks' help –a framed wizarding picture of her parents. For Neville, he had planned a book on the rare plants of the Northern Sea with actual seeds. Luna would hopefully enjoy the book about rumoured, extinct animals. All that was left to do was actually getting them, something he had little trouble with. Oh, and something nice for Dobby.
An hour later, his purchases all packed away, he was torn between buying the colour-changing socks or the shirt with the twitchy frog for his smallest friend. Or maybe he should get them both? Neither looked like something any sane person would reasonably buy, but Dobby wasn't sane. Or Harry could use the shirt to practice the switching spell on Malfoy. Or Snape? Might be funny, he mused.
In the end, he went with the socks, knowing the elf's love for that piece of clothing, and left the shop to brave the icy winds. After a quick glance into Tomes and Scrolls and not finding who he was looking for, Harry continued to Honeydukes. Even a week before the train ride home Ron would still have to restock. Just as a particularly nasty gust hit Harry and chilled him to the bones, he ducked into the store. Maybe it was Harry's imagination, but it looked even more packed than usual. Then again, with Christmas so close, the store had quite a few displays around the room.
Harry wasted some time watching the miniature Hogsmeade the store owners had put in a case, and wondered just how long it had taken to recreate all the details. Madam Rosmerta's double threw some drunk from her pub who reminded Harry of Mundungus, the Post Office had even smaller owls flying around town and shady people lingered around the Hog's Head. Finally, Harry had seen enough and began his search around the store. Of course, with the many shelves in the way, he had trouble getting anywhere. Just when he was considering simply climbing on one of them to gain higher ground, he heard the whiny voice of Parkinson from the next aisle.
"... you sure? You know how much I would love to have you around."
"Yes, I know," came the reply, and Harry fought back a smile at Draco's weary tone. "But I have already told you I have important business at home to deal with. I doubt I will have the time for anything else."
"Well, once you have done that you could always come over," Pansy tried again with a slightly hopeful note in her voice. She was walking to the end of the neighbouring aisle. Harry backed up to keep close to them and listen.
"I could, but I won't have time to spare. Mother will have me running around. And didn't your parents also have plans for you?"
"Well, yes, but they like you."
"The last time my family visited, we had to leave before dessert, or it'd have become violent," Draco pointed out.
"Auntie isn't there this year, and my parents still want you over," Pansy simpered.
"I already told you, I will be very busy over the holidays. Should I miraculously have some free time, I will see what I can do, though."
Even Harry could hear the lie in his rival's voice, but Pansy sounded happy nonetheless. "Excellent! I'll be waiting for you. You know how much I missed you this year!"
Fighting down his gag reflex at the images the girl's voice conjured, Harry heard Draco reply in barely more than a whisper, "Yes, I know. But I'm taking my duties very seriously; I have told you that, haven't I? I'm lucky I didn't lose my Prefect's badge, without Professor Snape's intervention, I wouldn't have kept it. This is my chance, and I intend to take my job seriously."
Silence reigned for a moment, and then Pansy grumbled, "Yes, you are right. I still would have hoped you had found some time for me." More brightly, she added, "I'll go pay for these and meet you at the door." She skipped away just as she left the shelves behind. Malfoy sighed loudly, and Harry snorted at his expression.
"Potter," his rival acknowledged. "I didn't smell you. Weasley not around?"
"Not right now. No Crabbe or Goyle? Are they off to the maternity ward for dinner?" Harry replied.
"No, they are trying to chat up some girls. Trying being the key word there. I couldn't stay and watch."
"Too horrible a sight?"
"And too little time, yes," Malfoy answered. "Be glad you only have to deal with Weasley. Can't be that fun to watch, either. Although he speaks, so that's another downside. And Granger never seems to stop."
"You could always send Pansy their way," Harry replied, too stunned about the lack of insults to really think about the absurdity of him talking with Malfoy civilly.
"Please. As if they'd survive her. And, strange as it may sound, but I may still need either of them one day."
"Ah, yes. The heart-warming friendship of Slytherins," Harry smiled.
"Ah, yes, I forgot. The mind-numbing idealism of Gryffindors. But then, Slytherins are lauded for their life, Gryffindors for their death."
Spying Pansy returning, Harry said, "Your girlfriend is coming back."
"Ah, so she is coming back. Well, I will see you at Hogwarts, then," the blonde boy said and left.
Harry shook his head, smiling to himself, and went to check the rest of the store. Ron wasn't there, strangely, but he ran into Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan, both deciding on some treats in a corner. He found Seamus with a rather red cheek, indignantly complaining about testy girls and seasonal spirits. Luna lingered around a display of the finest imported sweets, bothering one of the clerks with questions about the odd ingredients she assumed had been used.
Weathering the wind again, Harry trudged through the snow. The warmth of Honeydukes had gone almost as soon as he had closed the door behind himself, and he cheered inwardly, having practiced the day before. He would have hated going out in the weather he was faced with. The Three Broomsticks, once he had entered, was divine –warm, cosy, and with the smell of rich food in the air. In a corner of the room, a group of seventh-years bellowed a rather naughty song, to general applause, while Madam Rosmerta weaved through the room. Ignoring the hubbub, Harry went to a table in the secluded corner, and sure enough, he found Hermione and Ron glaring at each other.
"Hello," he greeted, "how long have you been here? I thought I'd have to drag you out of one of the stores."
"Not that long," Hermione replied, smiling tersely, "it was simply too loud, I couldn't find any peace. Oh well, there's always a next year."
"A few minutes. They raised their prices, Harry! Can you believe it? How am I supposed to get what I need now?"
With a smile of his own, Harry took a seat. "Well, you could always eat more fruits. They're supposed to be healthy, or so I heard."
"You sound like Mum, you know? Fruits aren't sweets, and a well-rounded diet needs both."
"Preferably more of the latter?" Harry guessed.
"Well, yeah. Fruits, really?" Ron replied.
"If you don't pay attention, the diet isn't the only thing that'll be round," Hermione spoke up.
"Yeah, you can laugh all you want, you'll know a lot about that stuff, I bet," Ron grumbled.
"As the daughter of health experts, yes, you are right, Ron," Harry jumped in before Hermione could start in on him. "Anyway, do you have enough reading material to last you the holidays?"
"I guess so, yes. I'll have to try to finish my homework as fast as possible of course, and I'll spend as much time as I can with my parents. They were so happy when they told me about it. It's been forever since we were skiing the last time. I'm sorry I can't come with you guys, but... you'll have fun, right? I mean, Ron, you'll have lots of time to trounce Harry at chess, and Harry, well, you'll see the twins again. They're always fun."
"Says you," Ron complained.
"They're always fun for people who can take a joke, then," Hermione amended with an irritated roll of her eyes. "And Ginny'll be there; she's fun, too. You can talk Quidditch all day long, and I won't bother you. Isn't that nice?"
Harry fought back a grin. "So, the twins, Ginny, and I in the same house as Ron? I think, you're right, that might be fun."
"And now I know I'll lock myself in my room and won't come out," Ron groaned.
"Cheer up, if we can get Bill and Fleur to join," Harry told him, and ignored the frown from Hermione, "it'll be a brilliant snowball fight. Just think of all the awesome strategies with all the nooks and hiding places and stuff around the house."
"Yeah, I guess that sounds fun," the redhead said, cheering up slightly.
"Yes, and three of those in that fight will have it in for you specifically, Ron," Hermione pointed out.
"Harry'll help me!" the boy declared.
"You wish. Dozens of balls thrown at you? That'll be a wicked reaction training for you."
"You won't help me? You're my best mate!"
"I'm your Captain as well. Have to get your lazy bum moving somehow," Harry told him with what he hoped was an ominous grin. "So make that four out for you specifically."
"Well, Harry, do me a favour, please," Hermione said. "You know I helped Ginny a bit over the year, could you take a look at her Defence against the Dark Arts homework? I trust your skill in that subject, if nowhere else."
"Don't know why she bothers –Snape'll never give her a fair grade. She's a Gryffindor," Ron added. "He never does."
"Well, she'll have her O.W.L.s at the end of the year, so... I think she'd be happy if you did. She might need the reminder to continue her studies, and who better than you to teach her?"
"Fine, I'll see what I can do," Harry told her. Honestly, he didn't mind looking over an essay or two, especially if it was for Defence, his strongest subject. "Any new idea on how I might get the memory?"
Hermione smiled at him apologetically. "Well, I don't know. Loath as I am to admit it, Professor Slughorn is very hard to crack. Still didn't invite you?"
"No," Harry admitted, "I think he'd rather keep me away when he's about to have a party. He'll be pretty tanked at the end of it, I think. Could you..."
"No, Harry, I don't think so. I shouldn't know about them any more than you, and if I try it he'll suspect a conspiracy, and with good reason even. I promise I'll think about it over the holidays, but your best bet might just be another talk with him. Try to appeal to his selfless side."
"Does he have one?" Ron asked idly, his eyes fixed on the swaying barmaid.
Thursday morning, Daphne woke with a jolt. Something was different, she knew it, but she couldn't quite remember what it was. The bed seemed just as soft as it had always been, Millicent grunted in her bed, Tracey was apparently already in the bathroom, early riser that she was. Pansy would certainly follow soon, simply to look as good as she could for the day.
Then Daphne nearly jumped. It was Thursday, her birthday! She was seventeen, an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world! Part of her had always wished to be born just a few days later so she wouldn't be stuck in school on her birthday, but it didn't matter all that much. She was an adult, she could use magic outside of school now, she was...
... locked irrevocably in the contract. Oh well, she wouldn't let it get her down. She was an adult now. And if she wanted to be responsible for her own life, she needed to act that way. Glancing around to make sure none of the other girls watched her, she quickly grabbed a quill from her bag and, checking once more that no one was watching, pulled the piece of parchment from her bag.
Not a lot had been written on it. Not a lot needed to be written on it, but it would suffice. Just as she was about to sign it, she hesitated. Her mind screamed at her, urging her to do it; yet at the same time, she knew just how tremendous of a decision it was. But then, she had already decided, hadn't she? And as far as she could see, she had done a good job, prepared for a lot of possibilities. And it wasn't for all eternity either. At most, she would have to live with him for seven years before they could go their separate ways. Realistically speaking, she would only have to endure it until the Dark Lord came for Potter. And with the way the war was going, it couldn't really be that long, could it?
Ignoring the anxiety she felt, Daphne signed. Once she was finished, she looked around. Strange, she had half expected the world to crumble around her. But the walls weren't closing in, no one jumped out to attack, Tracey continued singing intentionally off-key, Millicent carried on with her grunts... It had been a giant step, but nothing seemed to have changed at all.
Then Daphne remembered her priorities. She grabbed another piece of parchment, wrote a simple missive to Longbottom reminding him to await her at the train station for the very important holiday, Love Grandmother, and folded the first piece of parchment with the agreement she had signed into an envelope. Then she wrote the boy's name on it with a joke ink Astoria had smuggled into Daphne's belongings. If it was good enough to trick Daphne for a homework assignment, it was good enough to be used for the address of the letter. In a few hours, the words would vanish, and Potter would have the loan arrangement in his possession, and an unblemished one once the ink had vanished.
About an hour later, having received the congratulations from the other girls –Tracey's bubbly, Pansy's reluctant –they left for breakfast. They made a quick detour to the Owlery, or rather, Daphne had gone, claiming to have to send a letter to her parents, and her friends followed the birthday girl. It had been very tricky, all in all, but luckily, Millicent had distracted the other two long enough. Daphne watched the bird give her a glare, but it departed, made a graceful turn and dived into the Great Hall.
A few minutes later, she walked into the Hall herself, mindful to keep calm. Astoria, for reasons unknown, had kept from visiting in the dormitory, and took the opportunity to congratulate her sister at breakfast. Then again, Daphne mused, as some more jumped up to follow suit, and one or two of the boys trying to cop a feel, it might have been a problem had they met earlier. Astoria would have endangered the plan, not because she was a nosy pest –which she was, truthfully –but because the universal laws would have all but required her to butt in and ask about the letter or maybe add a few lines herself.
Having found a comfortable seat with her friends, Daphne put together what she found to be a good birthday breakfast. Once a year, she reasoned, she could indulge herself a bit.
"Well then, any plans for today, big girl? Oh, not you, Millicent," Pansy said with a smile.
"Well, classes first, I guess," Daphne forced herself to say. "Otherwise, no, I haven't made any plans. Or... well," she carefully dropped her glance to her plate and bit her lip, "there is something I've thought about. If you've got a bit of time this evening, that is."
Pansy huffed. "Whatever he told you, no. It didn't happen and I'm not like that. What was he thinking?"
Daphne blinked. "Err. Yes... I mean, no, I wanted to ask you a favour. You remember the... the contract? The one with the Blacks?" Seeing Pansy's growing scowl she continued hastily, "Well, I can't back out anymore, so I thought since I can't avoid it any longer, I should probably prepare a rough draft, just to be careful."
"Do that, then. I fail to see why it's any of my business," Pansy spat.
"Well, I thought about including escape clauses," Daphne replied with a slight smile. "Something reliable to put an end to it in the foreseeable future. And since you are a pureblood as well..."
Pansy started to smile mysteriously, suddenly warming up to the idea. "I guess I could do that, yes. As a sign of our friendship? Sure. What did you have in mind, then?"
"Ah, nothing much, to be honest. Perhaps something about criminal records. You know, only accepting those with flawless records so as to not besmirch an upstanding family. Oh, and an heir clause, of course. That one should be easy enough to trip. I've already outlined a few things, but I'd like your input." Daphne forced herself to keep her voice steady. The last thing she needed was tipping someone off. And with who Draco was, there was a good chance of him getting a criminal record soon enough.
"Well, alright, I'll have a look later. Not a bad idea," Pansy commented. Luckily, she missed Millicent sitting up a bit straighter.
Daphne meanwhile returned to her meal. How did professional spies do that? She hadn't lasted half a day and was already not sure whether she could play her role for any extended period of time. Too many lies were going around to keep track of them at the same time. Her eyes wandered through the room, part looking for an escape route and part distracting her from the stress, when they happened to come to rest on the Gryffindor table. Potter and his friends were there, Weasley and Longbottom with their backs to Daphne. Potter was sitting between the female Weasley, easily recognizable by her hair and size, and Granger who seemed to prattle on about something. Irritating as she could be occasionally, Daphne didn't hate her. There were worse people after all, and in eighteen months, they'd be out of school.
Potter looked up, and their eyes met for just the tiniest of moments. Strange how Daphne could tell from across the room. But he just nodded slightly and turned away. Well, it wasn't as if she had any need to speak with him. He had received the letter, or envelope, more like it, and that was all that mattered.
"Happy birthday, Daphne," Draco drawled.
Speaking of worse people than Granger, Daphne thought wryly. "Yes, thank you. Now I can finally curse people outside of school as well."
Tracey laughed out loud. "As long as it's nothing illegal!"
"Or as long as I'm not caught," Daphne pointed out. "There was this really mean hex, almost impossible to detect, very inconvenient, that I've been dying to try and see. Which reminds me –what are your plans for the holidays, Pansy? Anything fun planned?"
"Hardly," the girl sighed. "My parents want us to visit a few of our relatives, great-granduncles and the like, to bring us back to their attention. Only, they can't remember their own names so how much good it will do is debatable. Tracey, what about you?"
"Nothing, really. Or, well, I'll be skiing with extended family."
"My parents have set up some tutoring, apparently," Millicent added. "Mother was adamant about me going there. I think she wants to set up something with foreigners. She might want to marry me off to someone from the continent –she has friends there. Still, it doesn't need to be bad. I might come to like them, right?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne saw Draco sitting down a few seats down the table, and sighed. She could understand her friend somewhat. Arranged marriages weren't fun.
"Don't worry," Pansy whispered to Daphne. "I'll look over it tonight and we'll figure something out."
"I wouldn't be of much use, but..." Tracey began apologetically.
"Millicent?" Pansy asked.
"Ah, I don't know. I do have a bit of homework left for tomorrow and... Well, alright, I'll be there as well." She looked about as downtrodden as was appropriate.
Daphne smiled at them. "Thanks. I really appreciate it." And she did, seeing as they gave her a good cover story.
Shortly after noon on Christmas day, Harry walked up the stone steps of Gringotts. He had been very surprised at how easy it had been to convince Mrs. Weasley to agree to this outing, but then, Harry had put a lot of planning into his preparation. He knew which strings to pull, and aided by his improved control over himself, he had been able to play the part. Neville was already waiting in the bank, nervously fingering his robes. Tonks left after a quick glance around, her part done, while Harry approached one of the goblins in the hall.
"Hello, I'm Harry Potter. I had requested a meeting with my account manager," he told the grumpy creature who looked at the ledger in front of him before nodding and gesturing to one of the guards in the room. Harry wondered, watching it come over, whether the books on each desk were connected somehow to allow the exchange of information. How else had the goblin known Harry indeed had an appointment?
"Potter, A Seven," the first goblin said, and the guard nodded curtly, leading both teens away.
"Had a fun holiday so far?" Harry tried, addressing his friend.
"It was alright," Neville replied glancing around. "Mind telling me why you wanted me here? I told Gran I'd be with you and she was happy, but..."
"Ah, yes. I thought I'd do something nice for once. You know, now that I have a bit of gold, I don't want to have it lying around in my vault when it could be put to good use instead. At first, I thought about donating to a wizarding orphanage. It would fit, considering my own history, wouldn't it? Sorry if that's tactless, but..."
"I get it," Neville replied with a weak smile. "You thought I would want to follow your example."
"Yes, well, turns out there aren't any orphanages in wizarding Britain. See, all half-blood or pureblood orphans are normally placed with a family. Well, purebloods usually have a bit of gold to their name, so taking them in is naturally an honour and profitable."
"Gits," Neville added calmly.
"The same is true for half-bloods. They come from wizarding stock, so they usually have at least some relative who'd take them in. And with the obsession the wizarding world has with familial ties..."
"Yes, I know."
"Right. Well, Muggleborns are placed in Muggle orphanages, because they can't learn about magic until they get their letter. Figures. So I thought what else might be nice if I can't give to orphanages, and I remembered something I once heard –Hogwarts has a fund for students who have trouble paying for their stuff."
"And you want to donate, yes, I get it."
"Something like that. I thought, well, we both should have a bit to spare, so why not help those who might need it? Turns out the fund has been struggling to make ends meet for over two decades. What with the war, many of the purebloods preferred to keep their money close, and helping those in need... well, it didn't really factor in at all. Let's say, fifty Galleons. That's roughly a first-year. And since I'll head two houses, that'd be two first-years."
"Yes, I get it," Neville said, cottoning on. "Fifty Galleons really isn't all that much, come to think of it, not for us purebloods. We could try to start a trend or something, get others to do it as well. Not a bad idea."
In a whisper, Harry added, "Not a bad cover story as well. Do-gooder Potter donating money..."
"Yes, that too."
"Room A Seven," the goblin announced pushed a nondescript door open. "Senior Account Manager Paletooth."
Walking in, Harry noticed the stacks of folders littered around the room, placed on almost every surface he could see.
"Potter," an especially grouchy goblin greeted. "For Black. I do hope it is worth the time."
"We won't be long," Harry promised.
"We will see. What is it then?"
"A donation to the Hogwarts Fund for Underprivileged Children. Actually, I want to donate fifty Galleons from my Potter trust vault as well as another donation from the Black account."
"Easy enough," the goblin grumbled. "As Acting Head, I'm assuming?"
"Yes," Harry answered, "which is why I'm here. Incidentally, how much do I have at my disposal?"
"For such frivolities?" the goblin frowned. "By the current rules governing the Black account, 1837 Galleons, 9 Sickles and 14 Knuts."
"And there'd still be something left after that?" Harry asked.
"Naturally," Paletooth scoffed. "The Blacks are a very prestigious family and highly respectable customers."
Harry smiled. "Well, I think I have changed my mind. I'll donate all of that, then."
Neville gasped and started shaking his head. "You are mad. Completely out of your mind! Harry, that's a lot of gold we're talking about!"
"Well, I'm guessing the fund will have use for it. Now then, Paletooth," Harry continued. "Do you think you could arrange that?"
"Of course," the goblin sneered. "What do you take me for? I have been working here since the times of your grandparents." He pulled an old piece of parchment out of a drawer, filled some lines on it and handed it to Harry. "Sign down there, then."
But Harry placed it on the table without a glance. "There is something else I'd like you to do beforehand. I'm sorry, I forgot about it until now." He pulled from a pocket another piece of parchment. It had been straightened out, but some wrinkles were still left from the time it had been used as an envelope. "Please put this on file. I trust Gringotts to deal with that."
The goblin gave it a fleeting look, but his eyes narrowed and he fixed Harry with a piercing stare. "This is in order. A two percent fee of the base payment will be levied both upon filing and execution."
"Yes, alright, just make sure it's there," Harry smiled. So she hadn't tried to trick him.
"Also, should the condition concerning the survival of the other party be fulfilled, Gringotts will collect five percent on that as well, as is custom for similar conditions set forth in contracts," the goblin added.
"Fine," Harry nodded. "Now then, it's time to do some good." He grabbed the parchment in front of him and read it carefully. All seemed to be in order, and he picked up the quill the goblin had placed on the desk in front of him, ready to sign. The inquisitive gaze of the account manager was really unnerving. Part of him recognized the quill. Blood quill. Typical. But he didn't mind it. Neville had warned him about it; since it was an official document signed in the name of House Black, it would naturally be more formal than merely a signature. Furthermore, goblins enjoyed watching wizards bleed.
Taking a deep breath, fully aware of the ramifications, Harry placed the quill down on the parchment and, just like someone might rip off a plaster, scratched his name as quickly as he could.
It was the oddest sensation he had had in a long time. Whenever he had thought about the moment, he had expected something to happen. A surge of power maybe, or a drum roll, or maybe streamers coming from somewhere. He had expected the parchment in his hand to do something –anything, really –to recognize his actions. But no. Nothing happened, and the complete lack of response was very unnerving.
"Well, then," the goblin grunted. "That business is concluded. You have also just activated an outstanding marriage contract between the Houses of Black and Greengrass," he peered at Harry and added, "something you were obviously aware of. For future reference, you should at least try to act surprised. As you are seemingly aware of it, I'm guessing you are also familiar with the details?"
"The important parts, yes," Harry replied with a slight smile.
"And yet you signed the donation and activated the contract. But no matter. Your bride will be a Daphne Greengrass who just so happened to have reached adulthood a mere week ago."
"What a coincidence," Harry said airily.
"The same Daphne Greengrass who borrowed a Galleon from you and signed this agreement." Paletooth pointed at the obligation Greengrass had sent him. "Am I right in guessing you want to have the marriage contract in place by the end of the holidays?" the goblin asked with pursed lips.
"What gives you that idea?" Harry asked with a frown.
"Well, Mr. Potter, the commitment you handed me earlier showed you had prior contact with Miss Greengrass. Since she signed it, she must have had a reason for it. The specific condition of a marriage with you leads to the assumption of a plan, the condition of her survival until her birthday in 2004, slightly less than eight years from now, can only mean a concern for her life. Since you activated the contract mere moments ago and are aware of it, it was obviously an attempt to stop her marriage to Draco Malfoy, son of Narcissa Malfoy, daughter of Cygnus Black. However, you will have to replace the current, unspecified contract with a personalized contract. Since it was planned, it is only reasonable to assume you would want to do that as soon as possible, and for the safety of Miss Greengrass, you will want to do it during the holidays since both of you are available right now. Also, you will have the negotiations during the holidays because it will add further work for me; that is how it usually works with wizardfolk."
"Well, I... we didn't want to make your work more stressful. I'm sorry. But you are correct. Are you required to tell me about the contract, by the way?" Harry asked.
"I am not required, no." The goblin sneered at his visitors. "Notices will be sent out, of course, both to her family and you."
"And the Malfoys," Neville piped up.
"Ah, yes. The Malfoys," the goblin said, his face mask-like, yet there was a glint in his eye.
"You are delightfully well-informed about this business," Harry observed.
"Mr. Potter," Paletooth grumbled, "this is Gringotts. I am the Account Manager of House Black. Naturally, I was informed about the upcoming contract as well as your rise in status in June. Now then, to business. I am guessing you will want to negotiate at Gringotts?"
"Yes, though for what it's worth, Miss Greengrass and I already decided on a rough outline."
"That will help, although I would still advise you to brush up on your acting skills. Now then, you are also locked as Acting Head of House until your own birthday. The Marriage contract ensures you cannot resign from the post." He nodded shortly. "Back to the business at hand. You wanted to make a donation from your trust vault."
"I wanted to donate something as well," Neville added.
The goblin peered at him for a long moment. "Name?"
"Neville Longbottom, vault 2133."
The goblin pulled two pieces of parchment from the drawer, just as old as the first had been, filled some of the lines again and placed them on the table in front of his visitors. "Then be quick about it. I don't have all day."
Harry quickly signed, ignoring the itching on the back of his hand. "Any urgent business for the Acting Head of House Black?" he asked the goblin.
"None," came the reply, as he collected both parchments. "Anything else?" the goblin asked.
Harry shook his head. "All done, thank you for your time."
"Good day then," Paletooth told them, and the door behind them flew open.
Ah, just in the nick of time. So Harry did something noble and activated the contract in the process.
