17) Up In Smoke Prequel/postlude - I noticed when looking through this that somehow I posted the incomplete version of this. Stuff was missing in the middle. No one caught it... but there was a big jump that wasn't supposed to be there... so now it's fixed, I think.
Harry rubbed his eyes as he sat in front of Fortesque's trying to finish his summer homework. The glasses that his Aunt had got for him just didn't work right anymore, and he got headaches all the time. He didn't even know if he had enough money in his account for a health visit – Did the magical world have NHS? But the words were blurry and he was tired of trying to make it work.
He packed up his derelict satchel and headed to Gringotts. It couldn't hurt too much to ask, right? Well… they were goblins…
Heck, he'd killed a basilisk. He could do this.
He stood in line to see a teller. As the line got shorter, he got more nervous.
"Next," the goblin growled, and Harry quickly made his way to the desk.
"Well?" the goblin asked, gruffly.
"My name is Harry Potter. I'd like to get an accounting of the money in my vault, sir," Harry stated quietly and politely.
"Key," the goblin demanded. Harry sighed, wishing he could just hand it over. He'd tried to get it back from Mrs. Weasley after the shopping trip the prior summer, but she'd insisted that Headmaster Dumbledore needed to hold it for Harry. Harry relayed that information to the teller.
"Wait," the teller commanded, and two guards with pikes stood to block any exit Harry might try to make.
After a few moments, the teller returned. He had a strange needle-like piece of metal and a piece of parchment. "Your wand hand," he demanded.
Harry held out his hand and was amazed it wasn't shaking. The goblin jabbed him in the pad of his middle finger, holding the metal in his skin until it turned blood-red. Then he placed it on the parchment where it dissolved into a slew of words.
The goblin watched the words form and grunted. The guards went from attention to rest and then went back to wherever they had come from.
Harry let out the breath he was holding.
"Your account manager is Grimsneer. You will go to him now. Come." The teller came out from behind his desk and opened a door for Harry to pass through. Harry did so with all alacrity.
He waited only the merest of moments after the teller knocked on a door that was marked in strange lettering – he supposed it said Grimsneer.
Harry walked into the room as the teller indicated he should and heard the door shut behind him.
Unsure of himself, Harry did a short bow from the waist. "Account Manager Grimsneer, umm… I am honored to make your acquaintance?"
"You don't sound sure, Heir Potter."
His shoulders slumped slightly. "Sorry, sir. I've never learned how I'm supposed to not insult you? I… "
Grimsneer chuckled. "You're fine, sit." He indicated a chair that had very strong truth runes on it, though Harry didn't know it.
"So, Mr. Potter, what brings you here? Striff indicated you wanted an account balance?"
"Um, yeah. I need new glasses. I don't even know if there's doctors that do that here but why even look if I don't have the funds?"
Grimsneer nodded. "Sensible. Your guardian hasn't taken you to a healer?"
"Aunt Petunia? Only if the school makes her. But I was in the hospital wing just at the end of term. I got bitten by a snake…"
"What kind of snake?" Grimsneer demanded. The aura around this child pulsed with suppressed pain and poison. He pulled out a parchment and sent an urgent note to the lead human healer on staff.
"Umm, a basilisk? But Fawkes, Headmaster Dumbledore's phoenix, cried on the bite. So I'm okay."
"Where did you come across a basilisk?" As it hadn't been reported, it was obviously illegal. This could be the key to getting Heir Potter away from the terrible guardian who controlled the Potter vaults. He received a transmission that the healer would be in his office momentarily.
"Umm, it was Slytherin's basilisk, sir? I had to kill it."
"You slew a basilisk? Where is the corpse?" No one had noted basilisk skin or heart strings or venom on the market. He'd have to listen closer.
"It's still in the chamber. You have to be able to talk to snakes to get there," Harry offered. There was a knock on the door and Grimsneer ordered them to enter.
"No matter, so you want money for new glasses. You were bitten by a basilisk, and you do not appear to be at peak health. This is Healer Panakos. He's going to perform a diagnostic spell on you. This will tell us what is wrong with you and what would be needed to fix it."
"Basilisk venom. Phoenix tears," the healer muttered. "Throwing off the spell. Hold on a tic." He redid the spell and a parchment started filling with information. He could tell by the look on the healer's face that some of it wasn't so good.
Harry blushed. He knew he was the smallest in his year. It wasn't his fault the dumb Dursleys never fed him enough. He was always hungry. And he'd never really got over burning Quirrel up last year, either.
When the quill dropped from the parchment, the healer sighed. "You have numerous old injuries, malnutrition, curses, and potions that need to be addressed. Your magical core is also destabilized. You've not finished your first maturation yet. I would advise when you finish your maturation – perhaps in a year? Strange it's so late – you should have a major healing and cleansing ritual done. The dark magic alone desperately needs to be removed, though you do seem to have it contained in that scar."
"Sir, I don't even know where to get a ritual like that done. I wanted to just go to an eye doctor and get new glasses."
Panakos nodded. "Understandable. But if you don't address your health issues, they could have long-term consequences."
"But if I go to the hospital in the magical world, people will talk. I don't want people to know…"
"Gringotts could organize the healing. I'm not sure if you have enough to cover it," Panakos didn't even look at Grimsneer, "but we can check." Grimsneer knew the boy didn't have nearly enough, though he should have. But this was his chance to try to steer the Potter Heir in a manner that would even the scores, just a bit.
"Thank you for your assistance, Healer Panakos," Grimsneer dismissed the healer who took one last look at the Boy Who Lived before shaking his head and leaving the room.
Grimsneer pulled out a few ledgers. Leafing through them, he grunted and shook his head, noting the worried look on the boy's face.
"It appears, Heir Potter, that you wouldn't be able to pay for a ritual – even at St. Mungos – because the Potter vaults are just about empty."
"Vaults?" Harry asked. "More than one? There are vaults?" This level of ignorance was quite surprising to Grimsneer.
"There is your trust vault, the main Potter vault, the investment vault, and the Potter Trust vault. Though most of them are losing money."
"My family had money at one time?" Harry was intrigued. He'd never had a thing to claim as his own. Why had no one ever mentioned this to him?
"Oh, yes. Between the two blood wars, the Potter vaults prospered. My own father tended to them with your grandfather; it was stunning work, to be sure. Investments in muggle and magical world alike, made when the market was low but with an eye to what would be needed. Property that had lain fallow or abandoned purchased and improved for tenants. It was a time of great success for the Potter vaults." He pointed to a balance that, even though Harry had no idea what was really worth, had several more numbers in it than the current amount.
"Your father changed the investment policy during the war: all investment income – and that is substantial – was diverted into a fund for the war effort. I alerted your guardian to this fact, but he deemed changing that policy back – putting the income back into the Potter vaults - unnecessary. Rents are covering just a bit over half of the Potter trust – the rest of the trust comes out of the main Potter vault and is steadily eating the principle of the account."
He pulled another open ledger onto the desk in front of him, his gnarled finger pointing to a column of credits.
"Rents themselves are stagnant. Your steward was fired by your guardian. No one is enforcing the rent increases that were to occur on a semi-annual basis. In fact, some of your tenants have simply stopped paying rent. Those tend to be friends of your guardian, placed onto your properties by him.
"By the time you reach majority, the accounts will be empty and the trusts that fund parts of St. Mungos hospital, Bainbridge Magical Primary, and Cloverhill Orphanage will be defunct. The latter two will surely close. Hogwarts will, of course, lose its part of the trust, but as the account your income is supporting is managed by Hogwarts, that is where it is being spent."
Harry knew that Grimsneer wasn't talking about Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon. He had a guardian in the magical world, and they were robbing him blind. But maybe, just maybe they were doing it for the right reasons?
"Does my guardian use any of that money for him or herself?"
The goblin chuckled humorlessly.
"He does in many ways. He uses some of the funds as what we call discretionary – his Twilfitt and Tattings bills are delivered directly to this account. But the bigger piece is the favor he buys with your income. The scholarships that he awards – many think he funds them himself, and he has never discouraged this thought. He's never given the Potter trust credit. He also has a bit of a free hand in the Wizengamot – the legislative portion of wizarding government. Aside from voting your seats as your guardian, and the seats of Lord Black, your rightful guardian, he buys votes with your money. His account manager is quite proud to have such a swindler for a client. I am your account manager, and I consider him a thief."
Harry swallowed. He had a good idea of who this guardian was, and it was breaking his heart.
Was there not a single good person in the magical world?
"What would you do if you were me?"
Something like a wicked grin passed on the goblin's face. The child had worded it exactly right – what would a goblin do? Not what should he do, as then Grimsneer would have to advise within human custom, primarily that of the accursed guardian. Now, he could give the advice he truly wanted to give.
"Assign me or a solicitor to get ready with papers to go after anyone who has made money from your name or image. Your guardian has done nothing about this and it could refill a good part of the Potter vaults." Harry nodded. He hated the 'Boy Who Lived' crap and how people treated him because of it, but he'd never really thought about the money those books and stuff were making. Or where it went. Grimsneeer made note that he had approval to move on that.
"Also, have me or a steward start getting ready to evict those who have not paid rent at all and put in place full increases for those who didn't honor their bi-yearly increase." Harry again nodded in agreement.
"Prepare for the ritual of return to get back properties that have been stolen."
"Ritual of return?"
"Anything entailed to your estate will magically be returned to you. Your family pensieve, famly ring, grimoire, library, silver, jewelry… most of these have been… relocated." Harry saw red. People were stealing money, that was bad. But stealing his parents' things? When he'd never even seen them?
Grimsneer saw the disgust on the Heir's face and knew that the child would be building his resolve. This was good, as none of these moves would be popular.
"That basilisk bite – where is the animal? Give the nation permission to harvest it. The smallest basilisk is worth quite a bit of money, if it was Slytherin's basilisk, it was undoubtedly huge and is worth a small fortune. Put that money in a trust between you and me – your guardian will not even know it exists. This way, you can pay for ritual healing next yule."
"Do you have a way to speak snake? I will tell you the passwords…"
"We have a team going into the castle to do a ward check next week – apparently the board of governors overrode your headmaster on that as Sirius Black has escaped and is supposedly headed to the castle. Your guardian will be at an ICW meeting in Belize that week, so he will pose no threat to the claim." This casual statement confirmed that Dumbledore – and Harry'd never think of him with an honorific again – was his guardian in the magical world. Grimsneer brought his thoughts back to the processes at hand. "I'll record you saying the passwords and get a team into this chamber. We'll scour it and see if there's anything else of value for the Potter Vaults, though if Tom Riddle was there, it has surely been ransacked already."
"You are staying on the alley?" Grimsneer wanted confirmation, though he'd heard rumors.
"Yeah, I blew up my Uncle's sister with magic. They'd probably kill me if they saw me again this summer. I don't know why I have to live there. Dumbledore told me I had to. Said I'm protected best there. I guess he's just trying to get me killed so he can take what's left of my gold, yeah?" The bitter voice of the small boy in front of him was regrettable, but necessary. This child probably would have followed that megalomaniacal puppet master, just as his father had. Dumbledore had a way about him. Most swindlers did.
"Your guardian erected powerful wards there if he believes they keep you safe. He is quite good at magic."
Harry nodded, "Supposedly based on my mother's protection."
"Blood wards, then. Give me the address. Perhaps we can find a way before we do the healing and cleansing rituals to harvest your mother's protections and the wards at your current abode."
"So we can put them somewhere else? But I don't have anywhere to live."
"We can alter them – make them a personal ward that could be reabsorbed into your magic after your final maturation."
The goblin looked down at the list he had written then back up at the boy.
"Now, I have quite a bit of work to do. Preparation for most of this can be done by me and will cost you nothing extra. A solicitor or steward would need to be paid and though you have the funds, you cannot ensure that they do not tattle to a certain thief, for the 'greater good.'"
Harry, who had been attempting to absorb all they had agreed upon, looked up with narrowed eyes. "You can do all this?"
Grimsneer smirked, ignoring the insult that was implied. The child was more muggleborn than mageborn; he wouldn't know what goblins could do.
"I can, and it would both amuse and satisfy to do so."
"Then, let's do it."
~~ this is a scene break ~~
Harry decided that he needed to be more active in his own life, as it seemed like everyone was taking advantage of him. He talked to several shop owners and found that his choices of electives – at least divination – would cripple him in the future. He wrote to his head of house and changed his electives.
When he got to Hogwarts, as Madame Pomphrey checked him over for effects of dementor exposure, he asked if she could fix his glasses. She did so easily, and he wondered why she'd never done so before. Not aloud, of course, as he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.
His third year passed quickly, even though there were the requisite murder attempts. He avoided interaction with Dumbledore and managed to run into that weird elf – Dobby – in the castle. They got to talking – well he asked questions and Dobby answered – and Harry ended up bonding Dobby into his house.
Harry decided, being proactive again, that he needed to do a better job protecting his stuff, now that he had stuff to protect. Bad that people were stealing things he never knew he had. How stupid would he be to allow the cloak or map or his new broom to disappear? He'd noticed that Ron got into his trunk with regularity. At least half the chocolate frogs he'd got off the train disappeared before he could eat them. Same with the candy he got for Christmas.
And when he thought about how he'd left the Dursleys last year… he wouldn't be surprised if they destroyed his stuff, just to make him unhappy. But he didn't want to replace everything – his funds were tight enough!
He needed to get new stuff, and protect it, without paying for it… And he could! How often had he taken pens, hats, all manner of things from the lost and found at different places? He asked Dobby about the lost and found in the castle and together they scoured it until they found a trunk that was big enough, in good shape, and he could lock with his magic. Then they found clothing and books and things – he'd not have to buy supplies for the next school year. He had Dobby put the new-to-him trunk, full of supplies and his most precious possessions, in his vault.
Deciding to be super-pro-active, the morning they were to go home, he holstered his wand (he'd found some holsters that made your wand unsummonable and invisible in the come and go room!) and had Wood make a copy of his wand out of some old parchment. He also asked Hermione to house Hedwig until he could see how things were at the Dursleys. She didn't think her parents would mind, and they weren't to travel that summer.
The summer passed, and when Mr. Weasley picked him up for his parole from Dursley Prison, Harry sneered at his soon-to-be-former guardians. It felt so good to tell the whale off. He'd meant to just warn them the protections would fall, and then they had to go and burn his trunk. Sure, it was just junk in there, but they didn't know that. They thought they were destroying his only possessions in the world.
During the World Cup that Harry attended with his ever-distancing friend Ron, the goblins harvested his mother's protection from the decaying wards on Privet Drive and put into crystal that he wore on his wrist. He felt better just knowing the last of his mum was with him.
~~ this is a scene break ~~
It was supper when the confrontation began. He'd been back from holiday (and his interview with the WWN) just a few hours – ignoring all the staring of the students – when the deputy headmistress told him the Headmaster wished to see him. He looked to the head table where that man sat.
"Is this about school, sir?" Harry asked.
"No, Mr. Potter, this is about the Potter Trust," the headmaster answered with cold eyes.
"Aah, in that case, Professor McGonagall, I'd like you to be my witness to this conversation, but as you can see that the Headmaster is approaching me on a personal matter, you will refrain from correcting me as to my behavior, yes?"
The stern-faced woman looked between her employer and her student. What on Earth had caused the anger she was seeing manifest in both of them? She determined if nothing else, she would stop them from coming to physical or – gods forbid – magical blows with her presence.
The trio went to the Headmaster's office in simmering silence. When the two men had taken opposing seats, and Professor McGonagall stood back to watch the proceedings, her hand surreptitiously on her wand, the Headmaster's furious blue eyes met the student's cold, green, unwavering gaze.
The fact that Harry was so steadfast, not even flinching under the weight of obvious disapproval, did not bode well.
Dumbledore began the conversation with a quiet, stern voice, confronting Harry– thinking, perhaps, to cow the younger man.
"Mister Potter, though I understand your frustrations with your placement in the tournament, you have used this as an excuse for reprehensible decisions. You revealed the Dursleys' name for all of the magical world to hear. As if that would not be challenging enough to the protections I cast, you then dismissed those ancient magics out of hand. It will be all I can do to save the lives of your family. Additionally, you may not be aware, but your actions with respect to the Potter vaults have put people into the streets! You are endangering the schooling of several of your classmates, including your closest friends, the Weasleys. I do not even know if I can contain the damage you have done. What were you thinking?"
The clock ticked as the pendulum swung. The phoenix was quiet on his perch. After a silent, almost deadly beat, Harry leaned forward, drilling his eyes back into Dumbledore's.
"I was thinking that anything you recommend is almost certainly not to my benefit," Harry replied, coldly. McGonagall gasped at this statement. Harry wasn't finished, though. His voice was quiet and stern which lent much more truth to his vicious statements. "While I was starving, you were enjoying food purchased from the fat of the Potter investments, and you were eating it off a golden place setting while I cried from hunger, locked in a boot cupboard. While I was cold and barely clothed, you used my estate's income to buy your hideous robes at the exorbitant prices. While I got beaten up and called a freak, you used my family's money to buy prestige for yourself. That's done. It's all done."
Dumbledore sat, his face pale. He'd honestly thought he had the lad's respect. This speech proved nothing could be further from the truth. He believed he could justify much of what he did… but not now. Not in the face of the Potter ire contained in the Evans cold fury. And young Harry was not done.
"You forced me into this tournament. I swore a magic-bound oath at Gringotts that I didn't enter myself; someone else must've entered my name. As my guardian and headmaster, you could have called for a cancellation and redraw in the first twenty-four hours." At the headmaster's widening eyes, the only sign that the jig was up, Harry shook his head. "Yes, I got a copy of the rules. You could have kept me out of this. You didn't. I was able to use that fact, coupled with my health report, to strip your position as my guardian within Gringotts."
Harry looked over at his head of house, "You know, they have policies about child abuse?" he asked rhetorically. Then he returned his accusatory gaze to Dumbledore.
"Anyway. Since you didn't protect me, at all, yet again, you can see the results of my work as quite your own fault, really. But to summarize, do I know what I have done? I have reallocated the income you were – though legally, quite immorally – taking from the Potter investments. I'm suing you for mismanagement and theft to get back what you haven't already spent. I've put the rents up to where they should be for properties in the Potter holdings, and your free-loader friends who never paid a sickle in rent are losing every knut they have for neglecting to pay their rents over the last decade. I rehired the steward that you wrongly let go – what, you needed those galleons for your lemon drops or something? Most of all, I've ensured that three charities will continue even if they don't give Albus Bleeding Dumbledore a good reputation. Hogwarts won't see a knut until you are gone from here. Since the Hogwarts trust got all of the Potter investment income for the last ten years, it should have plenty stored, yeah?
"Now, this parchment is your formal notice," Harry stood and handed a copy of said document to McGonagall and dropped one on Dumbledore's desk, as though even handing a parchment directly would dirty his hands. "You are to stay away from me and from my accounts. If there is something that has to do with schooling, my head of house should approach me. I am never to be in a room with you alone again. You are not to speak directly to me again. More importantly, it is a warning that if you don't follow these directives, I will declare blood feud on house Dumbledore. Leave me, and my vaults, alone, you disgusting thief."
Harry turned, nodded to McGonagall, who stood, silent and white-faced after witnessing the confrontation, and left the room.