Fairy of My Heart
Ch 2
Isdh
121
The Pub of the Leaky Cauldron was open 24/7, and was the Primary Hub for the Floo system in London. Not an hour went by, that someone was not stepping in or out of the Green bloom of flame, so went his Hearth burped a verdant blossom of blaze at seven o'three on a Saturday, it did not raise an eyebrow on the Bald Barkeep. The Black ball that it spit out, tumbling across the floor, and crashing under the table was.
A second bloom, and a hefty lad stumbled from the fires, and as he stepped to the left, a third bloom gave form of Minnirva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. The Lad at her side looked about, "Ah, Harry?"
The form under the table, coughed, before answering. "This is why I asked to go first." the Boy crawled out from under the table, and spread his arms as the Teacher swished her wand first herself, then the slighter lad, and finally the stouter. "The only form of Magical Travel I have truly mastered is the broom. The Bus I can manage, but the Floo and Portkey through me around like a quaffle."
"Really, Mr. Potter." the stern witch sighed, "I think you are blowing it out of proportion."
"Ask Mum Weasley." The Skinny lad smiled at the teacher, "Are you not due for your Monthly Visit with her anyhow?"
The Matron sighed, "It is not Monthly. But they have been quiet this term, It might be a good idea to make sure she is up to date on their antics." The Deputy Headmistress, with a nod to the Barman, turned and led the lads out the 'backdoor'.
As the Gateway shifted and spiraled open, the slender lad grinned, "I never get tired of that. I wonder how hard it would be to learn how to make a 'wall' like that?"
"It is a third class enchantment." McGonagall smiled at the green-eyed wizard, "Had you taken Runes, you would have learned the basics in your sixth and seventh year."
"So… I just need to cram two years of Runes under my Belt before June then." Harry nodded. "Gives me a reason to drop Divination. Old Bat has predicted my death six times in the last eight weeks, and while each and every one was possible, if the situation was taken to the extreme, I do not need the negative vibes… or the contact high."
Neville choked on his laughter, as the Headmistress just frowned. At the foot of the steps of the Wand Shop, Longbottom tugged at his tie, "Ah, Professor? I do not have any money." He looked between the shop, and the bank, "Would you mind us stopping in at the Bank, to pick up a few gold…"
Noticing that the Wand Shop was not open yet, and the rumors that Ollivander was planning on getting pisssed the night before, she nodded.
As they mounted the stepps to the bank, Harry felt something thrum in his chest.
No one but the guards noticed his eyes briefly glow…
121
Deep in the lower levels of the Bank, in the Offices of the Bloodline Keepers, a device crafted of Gold and Silver began to chime.
121
Neville led the way to the counter, 'manned' by a goblin in a suit nicer than any Vernon ever owned, a pair of wire-bound specs perched on its beaky nose. "Greetings Teller. May the Gold ever Flow." He made a weird salute wave.
"Greetings Wizard, May your coffers Flood." The creature sneered at the Scion of Longbottom, as it returned the wave. "How can you be serviced?"
"I wish to pull...50 galleons from my trust vault." Neville passed over a small gold key.
The Goblin, holding the key in it's claws, peered at the Lad through 'his' glasses. He grunted, before scratching a note on his ledger, and counting out 50 golden coins. He then pressed the Key to the Ledger, before passing both the key and the coins to the stocky stripling. It all went into the pouch from Neville's pocket.
Neville stepped to the side, as Harry stepped forward.
"Greeting Teller." Harry bobbed his head, but never breaking eye contact. "I apologize, but I do not know the proper way to greet you."
The Goblin sat back on it's stool. "At least you are trying. With us Tellers, invoking a blessing on coin or profit will do. With the guards, not on post, blood of enemies and glory is best. With the Account Managers, a mixture of the three will see you rise in services offered."
"So, something like… May Profit rain upon you…" Harry stumbled over the greeting, as the Goblin's grin turned more toothy.
"Exactly. No doubt your History teacher has told you of the Goblin riots." the lad nodded, "These days, we fight with coin and Profit, rather than sword and axe. Hold your head high, and bleed your enemies dry." He leaned forward, "How may you be serviced?"
"I would like to withdraw… 100 gold from my Vault…" before his eyes widened, and he turned to look at the Matron behind him. "My Key!"
"Mister Potter?" the Scottish Witch frowned at the lad.
"Mum Weasley used it to get my things this year."
"Am I hearing this right?" The Goblin leaned forward, "You let your key out of your control?"
"Yes sir." the green eyes were down cast.
"Name." the goblin snarled.
"Potter. Harry James." the lad answered back, meekly.
A scratching on the ledger brought all eyes to the Goblin, "Huh. it seems you have a meeting with your manager. This way." the Ledger was closed, and a heavy brass plaque reading 'Next Teller Window' thumped on the desk.
Neville grabbed Harry under the arm, and drug him to the back of the Bank. "Never keep an Account Manager waiting. They can and will charge you for it. Now, I know that we are not the closest of friends, but I can tell you need advice here. The only one who might know more about this is Malfoy, but odds are they see paying the higher fees as a privilege of Class. Declare to the Teller that McGonagall and I are your advisors." He Pushed Harry forward.
"I need my Advisors with me."
"They will face the same judgement as you." the Teller grunted.
121
The Office they were led to, was hewn from the living stone under London. Two walls were covered in an intricately woven tapestry, of a red vine swirling about, weaving a winding path from the base of one corner, around the turn at the far wall, and across the majority of the second. Every six inches a gold leaf would detail a name with two dates. From leaf a green vine would coil and weave about, with baby blue flowers. The flowers also held names and dates.
One wall was covered with weapons; axes, swords, maces, and daggers. Just before the wall was a desk, carved of heavy english black oak, inlaid with gold. Behind the desk sat the biggest goblin Harry had ever seen. He was half again the size of the teller, wearing an even nicer suit.
"Master Barchoke." The teller goblin nodded to the bald goblin. "Master Potter… or so he says."
The Account Manager grunted. The teller bowed his head and scurried out.
Once the door closed, and locked, the goblin leered at Potter. "Milord, So nice of you to finally answer our summons."
"I never got any summons." Harry frowned, "Only mail I get is from Hogwarts, or what is carried by my Owl."
"We will see. First, your Key."
"I do not have it." Harry felt his spine stiffen.
"Did you give it to someone?"
"Yes and No." Harry glanced at Neville, before looking the Account Manager in the eye. "I was staying at a friends this summer, and his Mother… requested my key so she could get my things for school. I have trouble saying 'No' to certain … females. With everything that happened this summer… I just forgot to reclaim my Key."
"Saying 'No' is important. Especially to … certain females." the goblin leered at the lad, "Lord Charlus and James had trouble with two witches, themselves." a sheet of black vellum and a black feather were pushed towards the Lad. "First things first; sign at the bottom of the sheet. The silver line. Full name as you know it."
"Careful Harry. That is a blood-quill. It writes in your blood. This is a Bloodline test. I had to do one when I turned eleven. Why you never did one before now..."
"Muggle-raised, never told anything by anyone." Harry smiled at his roommate, as he took up the quill, and scratched out his name; Harry James Potter, on the silver line.
Pain bloomed across his left hand. It was delayed, but his name, just as he wrote it on the line, scratched itself into the tender flesh of the back of his hand. As quick as it was to form, it healed, leaving only a dull ache in it's wake. As he dropped the quill, the Goblin grabbed it and dropped it into a clear stone cube, that rippled like water, before sealing the quill away.
The black on the vellum faded from the bottom, inching to the topas it began to leave a family tree in it's wake. Under the silver line, a group of runes trailed along the edge of the sheet.
"Hem, Yes. You are indeed the Heir of Potter." The goblin pulled a wooden box from a drawer, and set it on the desk. "Please take the first ring, and put it on your right ring finger." the box opened, to show five rings. Each bigger and more fancy than the one before it.
As Harry did as bid, his eyes glowed in the dim office, and this time everyone but the boy noticed. The plain gold ring flared twice, than flickered, as the third ring traded places with the first.
"You have moved from scion, to Heir…" the Goblin started to say, before he was interrupted by the ring flickering again as it was replaced by the fifth and largest ring, a flash of black light covered the skinny lad. "...to all the way up to full Lord." The leer tured to a sneer, "That makes things both easier, and harder. I do not need to reissue you a key, but now all of House Potter Accounts are active."
"How?" the two humans asked.
"Something happened to cause him to be declared of Age…" the Goblin glared at the sheet, "three weeks ago."
"The Goblet of Fire!" hissed Neville.
"What?" the Goblin frowned at the larger lad.
"The Goblet of Fire." Ground out McGonagall. "The old fool put a 'Age Line' around the Artifact that chose the champions of the three schools. When Mister Potter…"
"Lord Potter." the Goblin grunted.
"Lord Potter was Named, of a fourth school no less, the old fool and the two ministery idiots declared that he had to compete, that the Contract had been filled." the Witch hissed. "It was declared that the Tournament was for those 'Of Age' only."
The Goblin snorted, "And because of the stupidity of Wizards, an Heir becomes a Lord, and my easing into the Account goes up in smoke." His beady eyes peered at the small lord, "Your Orders, Milord?"
Harry looked at Neville…
"I would advise; pulling the coin you need for now, Locking down the Accounts, and a full Accounting." Neville sighed, "Also ask that the Keys be recalled, rather then cancelled. It will cause those holding your keys to not know that the keys are no good, incase they are helping themselves to your money or artifacts."
"Sir?" Harry turned back to Barchoke.
"It is so Ordered." the ledger was turned to the lad, a talon tapped a line. "Sign here." Harry signed. "How much did you want?"
"One hundred gold." Harry swallowed, "Could I get half that in Pounds, please."
"Done. Expect my owl. You can collect your money at the first teller." the Human's nodded at the dismissal, and left, not even uttering the honorifics.
Back in the main lobby, Harry collected a leather(dragon hide) pouch and a leather bill fold from a teller that had no line, and they stumbled out into the sun-lit alley. Finally noticing that Olivander's was open, they climbed the steps into the shop. At the ringing of the bell, the Craftmaster staggered from the back, pulling on a clay flask.
"Oh, good. We can get this nightmare behind us… and what is this?" the blue eyes locked onto Neville, "Elm and Unicorn tail. Not yours…" the eyes squinted, "But your Father's. Bought back in August of '68. Why are you wielding it?"
"Me Gran." Neville drew the well worn, well polished wand from his robes. "She is of the belief that if I use his wand, I can channel his greatness."
"I will be sending her a message." Garrick grumbled, "And who told you to come in?"
Neville turned to look at Harry.
"Sir, you were angry about what happened my wand, a wand that worked for me… what would you think of a wand that did not work for a wizard… a wizard, that could have been my wand's true Master." Harry spoke softly.
Garrick snapped his fingers, causing the coiled tape measure to strike at the hefty lad like a cobra. It quickly measured the arm, the wrist, the space between nostrils… and more. "You have been using that wand for what… thirty-eight months now, correct?" Neville nodded shyly, before drawing himself up. "Describe how it feels to cast… Lumos."
"It burns… so good...so pure… it almost hurts to … nox." Neville whispered, his fingers clutching at his Father's wand. Garrick tucked a spruce blank under the lad's hand and grunted as the dowel twisted in his hand.
"Relax. You're right Potter, had he came in before you, the wand you …" Garrick breathed deep, held it… and exhaled. "It would have chosen him. But three years of forcing his magic through this wand has altered his core like your adventures have changed yours… just not to the same degree." then he smiled a smile of true happiness. "I will have to craft you both, new wands!" he flipped the counter up, and opened the gate. "To the Workshop."
121
AN; Harry holds three fairies. I have some ideas. But in the thought of sharing the story-building my audience, in a review or pm, name a fea/fairy either of Lore, the show Fairy/lost, or of 'Lost Girl. Now you have one week to post.