Chapter 35: The Baron
It might be bordering on, or perhaps completely, racist to say that Goblins are brilliant. A more accurate statement would probably be that the Gringotts Goblins are brilliant. All I had to do was ask for the, unknown to me, non-existent 'inheritance department' and I was assured a meeting within the next hour. 45 minutes sitting an unoccupied office catching up with Hedwig's for adventure by herself, a Goblin enters with a slim folder in his hand. This is Sharpjaw, the owner of this office. Chunky books line the shelves on either side of the room behind the large, dominating desk. The walls are smooth marble, with only two crossed axes adjourning either wall. No other personal objects within the office.
"Mister Potter. I am Sharpjaw the patient." He greets me after taking his seat. There are a couple of steps that sit behind his desk, allowing the Goblin to sit level with his clients. "I have conferred with your file..." His beady eyes stray to my right hand, more specifically the mithril band. "How may I be off assistance today?"
"The patient?" Hedwig chirps, unable to hold in her curiosity.
"Originally intended as an insult, believe it or not. I was too lenient with clients."
"But..." Hedwig urges him on.
"But – The numbers, after being triple checked, revealed that I was far more effective than others." He smiles, or perhaps it's a sneer. I can imagine dealing with racists all day requires a great deal of patience. This is his only office, and some of the time his guests can get loud and irritated when denied their 'rightful' inheritance.
"I don't know what you normally do-" I'm going to get myself caught one day by making puns about my abilities. "-but I hope you can help us with this. I have a couple of ideas, but I'll leave it up to your expertise. Simple put, to save time, This is Hedwig, who, until recently, was an owl and currently a ward of the ICW. I want to legally make sure she can't be taken from me. For nefarious reasons or otherwise." I squeeze her hand gently.
"I cannot say that I have ever had to do such a thing." Sharpjaw laces his fingers together, resting them on his desk. "A few possibilities come to mind as achievable, some may not work with recent laws, or won't hold up in the future, others may have unintended … political-" He sneers at the word. "- repercussions."
"Such as?" I ask.
"The simplest, most advantageous, and most future-proof course of action is to take on your family as the last remaining Potter, to our knowledge, and adopt Miss Hedwig." He takes a moment to flip open the folder. "This was made immediately possible in … March of 1992 by your family's Regent, one Albus Dumbledore, so you could walk out of this office today as the Head of the Potters." Sharpjaw returns his attention to me. "Your Great-Grandfather, Viscount Charlus Potter, was the most recent true head of house as neither James nor Fleamont Potter wanted to, nor needed to." He explains to us. "Whilst they were, technically, 'Lords' – This did not mean they were the true 'Head Potter' so to speak. Over the years, Viscount Charlus' land has been purchased or lost, however; Modern nobility laws dictate that, if you wish, you may become a Baron. Whilst historically this required ownership of land and was not down to matter of inheritance, it no longer does."
"You talk a lot for a Goblin." Hedwig says as I digest the information. Rather than ordering her to be beheaded, Sharpjaw laughs.
"I am told that it helps I this line of work." Hedwig shoots him a dazzling smile.
"And where will Hedwig fit into this?" I butt in before Hedwig responds with anything past the smile.
"A simple blood test to ensure she is … 'human enough' to be adopted will be the only requirement." He explains. "After that, another drop of blood onto the house ring. The paperwork can be completed in minutes. The whole process has been streamlined to ten minutes in case of emergency."
In for a penny, in for a pound.
"As easy as that?" It's surprising really. "What's the catch?" Sharpjaw adopts a cruel smile once the whole process is complete.
"Now, Baron Potter, You have the entire Potter manifest available for your perusal." He scribbles something into a slim black book, which is likely linked to several others carried by Goblins akin to assistants. "You are not required to read through centuries of transactions, but Gringotts highly recommends that you look through your asset portfolios and the past couple of decades of withdrawals, deposits and other monetary changes. There wasn't much activity during your hiatus, but since the days of Viscount Charlus, these are quite numerous." He seems to take some sadistic pleasure in explaining this. The door opens to allow 2 Goblins to push in trolleys each holding a large, leather-bound trunk. I massage my hands as the nerve soothing charm begins to wear off.
"These are just copies?" I ask, walking over to the trolley.
"Indeed. You may take these with you for your … perusal." Sharpjaw explains as I pop the lid open. It's full of official looking books, probably containing official looking papers too. The trunk is about 100 centimetres by 60 wide and deep. Everything from the knut count to any renaming land will be inside these books. Lots of useless stuff, which will be a delightful read, I'm sure. Any old clothes or the odd book that is down in the vaults or outdated 'friendships' with other families when such things were common. They still are really, I just don't like to think about it.
"Do you mind if I shrink these? I'm a bit fragile lately." I ask Sharpclaw. He watches me a second before nodding. A quick tap on each trunk with my new wand sees them reducing to the size of matchboxes. Luckily they only contain paper, so there isn't anything incredibly taxing to shrink. The other Goblins are dismissed with a wave of his hand.
"Is there normally so much stuff?" Hedwig asks him curiously as I take my seat again.
"Even when the Potters had considerably less to their name, they kept a very tight hold on their books. Not everyone keeps such a close eye on things, nor will you need to, but it does help to keep everything orderly." He explains to us. "You may always take on the services of a Gringotts book-keeper, for a fee of course." He smiles again. "This person would work in conjunction with your own banker once the individual is chosen. This will take place this evening I should imagine. With holding such as yours, this may one of two or three accounts they will tend to." What was Sirius' account manager called? He does his logging too.
"Gnarthuck." I say. "If he would take the job, I'd be glad to have him." Sharpjaw almost looks surprised.
"Whilst uncommon to make a request by name, I shall pass along the message." It's good to keep them on their toes.
"Is there anything else I should know?" I ask quickly, rubbing my aching knee. Hedwig - Hedwig Potter - smiles sympathetically at me, feeling my discomfort.
"Whilst the two of you are magically different, you blood is not." He reads from a piece of parchment. "Were you to perform a ritual using your blood, or create a blood ward using your own, Miss Potter's would act exactly as yours would, meaning that she would essentially be 'above' the ward just as you would. This also means that you cannot use her blood for a familial protection, as it would be like using your own. This may never come up, but I have been asked to relay the information to you anyway."
"Thank you, Sharpjaw. I won't take up any more of your time." I almost stumble our of the door, eager to get out of the 'no-spell' area that Gringotts enforces.
"Urgh." I sigh with relief and lean back into the chair outside Fortescue's after reapplying the nerve charm.
"You could've just asked to do it whilst we were in there." Hedwig hands me the ice-cream cone. She either doesn't realise or simply doesn't care that people are watching us like hawks. One would think we are famous or something... "Don't tell me it was some macho thing. 'Don't show weakness'?"
"No, nothing like that." I laugh. "I just didn't think it would be polite." She scoffs, wathcing the Diagon Alley crowd mill about.
"So, Milord, How does it feel to be in such high peerage?" She smirks, not looking directly at me as she eats.
"Fantastic. Most of them have already tried to kill me." I say dryly.
"Tonks doesn't like it." She says.
"People trying to kill me? Understandable."
"No, well yes, but the whole thing. Unprovoked, except for some verbal spats. It's doesn't make any sense." She sighs and turns back to me.
"Maybe it'd been building up all this time. They just needed an excuse for some terrorism. They were throwing deadly curses before they spotted me." I remind her.
"I know." She says, hooking her arm with mine, glaring at some girls nearby. Just as protective of me as she was as an owl.
"There'll probably be a photo of us in a magazine tomorrow."
"Do they always look at you like this?" She scowls.
"Probably." I focus intensely on the ice-cream in my hand. Dangerous waters.
"Can't say I blame them too much."
"You know that it's all different for them now, right?" Hedwig asks as we walk together through Diagon Alley. "James and Lily's deaths weren't on your, and your other dealings have been more subtle. Now the public knows that you can fight. The 'bad guys' know you can fight."
"Maybe they will leave me alone." I muse as we reach our front door. I turn to Moody, who'd been limping along with us. "Thanks for keeping an eye on me." I say, half joking. "You'll probably want to go before Tonks gets here or she'll think you're here for her and attack you. Or at least hide." We slip through the doorway before he can answer.
"Do you think we'll move now t hat you have money?" Hedwig asks, not turning, as we walk up the stairs.
"Nah. I like it here. It's in a good place and it doesn't have any old whispers imprinted into it." I lean the cane next to the sofa as I slump onto it. "Maybe we could get a balcony installed." I dig the two trunks out of my pocket and set them on the floor.
"What are you gonna do with your old wand?" She asks as I sit back after resizing the trunks.
"I'll still use it for everything. It's just easier to use this one whilst I'm a cripple. It feels like I'm waving a gun around though rather than a tool, like my real wand." I watch with interest as Hedwig bends over to open the first trunk. Tonks has either been a bad influence on her, or a very very good one. She sits on the lid of the second trunk as she leafs through the grey binder. "Anything?"
"Just when they've recorded when you've withdrawn some money." She flips the page. "It's funny that they use these." She shakes the binder. "I thought they'd use big leather-bound tomes."
"These are just the copies, they would have the official ledgers looking much nicer, I'm sure." I swivel on the sofa to lie down. "Go on then, what's left of my... inheritance." I sigh.
"Just shy of a million galleons. 932 thousand to be precise."
"Huh. Not bad." I shut my eyes. Plenty to live on, very comfortably, without a job. I could travel all over the world when Tonks isn't working. "That's … about 9 thousand a year for the next century. And what's in my own vault will knock that up by a few percent."
"But you're not going to just spend the next hundred year, if you live that long, sitting about, whining all day, are you?"
"Nah." I wave my hand. "I could blow it all in a month, I'm sure- But then what would we eat?" I sit up again. "I'd prefer not to use any of it, doesn't really feel like my money anyway."
"Not even a little bit?" She pouts.
"Maybe Tonks could use some socks without holes in them..." Hedwig rolls her eyes at this.
A/N: Anti-climactic? Hopefully not. Harry did this for Hedwig, not for his own gain, he won't be kicking about the Wizengamot any time soon ... not as part of it anyway.
This was tricky to write and maybe not as filled out as it could be. Harry's patience wouldn't last whilst the pain is still there. Not sure about the chapter as a whole.
Back to Hogwarts when the next chapter is ready, whenever that will be. Enjoy?