Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Seven
Design and Coincidence
"Well, that's interesting," said Harry Potter. "As far as it goes. Good work, Pansy. I'm going to suggest, and you can tell me if you think I'm wrong, that we just leave it alone. If it becomes obvious Romilda wants and needs help, we come back. Otherwise we won't interfere in her life."
They were sitting in Harry's office at Harry Potter and Associates, drinking coffee that Kreacher had delivered. Pansy Parkinson let the coffee slide over her tongue. It was hot, but not too hot, and strong. Just strong enough. The subtle notes were there, in just the right relationship to the dominant arabica flavor.
"Kreacher is a genius," said Pansy. "I may have said that before."
"Still true," said Harry.
"Okay, Romilda knows where to find me," said Pansy. "I wonder what she'd like to do, now she's back here?"
"I'd say there's at least half a chance she'd like to live quietly and be left alone," Harry said. "Sounds like the husband's family…"
"They don't have a good record," Pansy allowed.
No, they didn't. Pansy's research at the Ministry of Magic archives had taken a strange turn. That wasn't a surprise, though, because research in magical archives was a dictionary definition of strange.
Romilda Vane's husband's family came to prominence in the late Roman period, holding a high valley in some rugged territory astride the boundary of the Alps proper. They used magic to keep themselves independent during the centuries it took Roman law to deflate in their part of the world. Whenever demobilized mercenaries or rootless brigands came to the valley looking for loot they had to travel through a forest that hadn't been visible from the high point where the band had reconnoitered their target. They went in, and they didn't come out.
The odd straggler, the one lagging behind with the pack animals, might occasionally return to what passed for civilization with tales of fifty good, proven men going in. That was it: going in. There were always screams heard sufficient to curdle blood. Some reported hearing the breaking of bones.
As the family's command of magic increased they ceased depending on their fighting skills to protect the valley and came to depend more and more on terror, living behind layers of wards of increasing power. One legend spread all over that part of Europe—if a wizard could breach the last ward, he would gain a duchy and take his pick of all the females in the family.
An ancient witch, living in Vienna in the 1920's went on record stating the legend had elements of truth, although the only wizard to make it through the final wards slept with all of the fertile females, with the entire family's blessing, for a period of sixty days. Then he was butchered and eaten at a banquet as a way of honoring him for his help in rejuvenating the family bloodlines. The account was never confirmed because the witch died shortly after telling the tale, then the 1930's arrived bringing the horrors that convulsed Europe for the next fifteen years. A few copies of the witch's tale survived in dusty files archived in magical ministries here and there.
"I have to say Pansy, that is an outstanding magical tale," Harry said, when Pansy finished relating what she had found. "What a way to start the day. Merlin!"
"Ah…alright," said Pansy, "Although, outstanding magical tale or not, I may require help getting it out of my nightmares."
"There's that," Harry said. "The scales have to balance. I'm in your debt. Thanks for sticking with it. I'm not sure I'd have done."
"Poppycock, Harry Potter," said Pansy. "That's right up your alley. You'd have critiqued them like a proper subject matter expert."
"I expect you're right," said Harry, his tone shading a bit toward rueful. "Well, new business: I'm going to sit across a desk from a goblin shortly and talk about that property I mentioned. Can you stay and hold down the office? Anything you've got to do that you can do right here?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Pansy said. "I've been wanting to take a few minutes and compose a little note to Morag. Kind of a thank-you for her gracious hospitality but really a place holder. Something to tell her we have her in mind, all the way down here."
"Oh, how long will that take?" asked Harry.
"Several drafts, to get all the nuance right," said Pansy.
"So no problem staying until I get back?"
"No, of course not, go ahead," Pansy said.
"Thanks," said Harry. "I'm off."
Harry checked in with the goblin in the lobby and sat down to watch Gringotts at work pending the arrival of his loan officer. He didn't expect to do more than give the goblin the address of the building and a rough verbal description of his plans for improvements and the projected return. Then he would recede into the background while the bank's bureaucracy did its due diligence, returning when it was time for him to sign for the loan, or, alternatively, informed of the bank's refusal of his application.
"How much?" the goblin asked after Harry had outlined the deal. They sat in an office in what would have been the commercial loan section of a muggle bank. The goblins worked in ledgers with oil lamps and candles for illumination. Computers had never been used at Gringotts. Harry had occasional business at muggle banks. He detested the banks and their muggle bankers. He'd rather be turned down at Gringotts than get a loan approved by muggles.
Harry gave the price of the building and what he thought it would cost for the improvements he had in mind.
"Certainly," said the goblin. "I'll recommend approval to the committee and have the parchment ready when they take the vote. They meet tomorrow morning. With luck you can close a day or two later."
"Oh," said Harry, leaning back into his chair. "Thank-you. I didn't expect such speedy service."
"Mr. Potter," said the goblin. "The time when Gringotts scrutinized your applications in detail is past. You've got a fine portfolio developing, at a very young age. You seem to have an aversion to getting over-extended, a critical virtue for a businessman. You have earned a little slackening of the leash."
The goblin grinned, showing his rows of pointed teeth. Harry smiled back, stood, and extended his hand.
"Should I look for an owl tomorrow afternoon?" Harry asked.
"I think, the day after, just to be sure," the goblin answered.
Harry checked the time as he left the bank, decided it was close enough and went on to the Leaky Cauldron. He stepped inside and paused to let his eyes adjust. Something smelled good. Harry's stomach agreed, if its growl was any indication. Harry found a table and sat.
"Harry!" said Neville Longbottom. Harry turned and saw his classmate and fellow Gryffindor coming toward him.
"Neville, good to see you," Harry said, standing and extending his hand. "Got time to have a coffee? Share a pot of tea?"
"With a little negotiation, shouldn't be too hard," said Neville. He left Harry at the table and went off, almost certainly looking for his wife, and employer, Hannah Abbott Longbottom.
"What's on your mind?" asked Neville as he offloaded the tea, cups and saucers from his tray.
"Business," said Harry. "I was wondering, since we're allied, if you have any interest in joint ventures. I'm in the middle of negotiations for a building. If everything falls into place, and I've no reason to doubt it will, it ought to be profitable within two or three years. If you think you might want to go in on some projects I can show you the books on the buildings I've taken on."
Neville sat, thinking.
"How many buildings do you have?" he asked.
"Four," said Harry. "Rentals, that is. Not counting the houses, of course."
"Impressive," said Neville. "Sure, I'd like to put something in. How do you propose we organize it?"
"Partnership, half-and-half," Harry said. "Major decisions by consensus, in case of impasse one of us offers our share to the other at fair market value."
"Ought to work," said Neville. "Want to talk numbers?"
"Sure," said Harry. "The one I'm working on buying is all-magical, four floors, three flats and a business front on the ground level. There is a basement that could have potential as a café or some other commercial purpose. Magical bookstore, herbalist, whatever. They're asking four hundred-fifty thousand, I put fifty down, borrowing the balance from the goblins. The loan will be secured by the building. The flats are rented and the rents are a little below what the monthly payment will be. I'll put some work into the ground floor, but that is mostly me, Kreacher, Mort and Daisy, so it's all magic and doesn't cost anything except materials. That's the rough outline."
"Merlin, Harry, it sounds like you've found the key to the mint," said Neville as he leaned back into his chair. "Why would you want to cut yourself out of half?"
"It's getting to be a full-time job," Harry said, "I think it's time to get some help so I'm not captured by it. All I wanted at the beginning was a little office space."
"Oh, yes, business," said Neville. He looked around at the rapidly-filling dining area of the Leaky Cauldron. "If you're growing, the work is never-ending. If you're steady, you're really going broke."
"So, what do you think?" Harry asked. "If you're interested in the one I'm working on, the business with Gringotts is already underway, so if I get it you can see all the documentation and buy half from me. Make sure your legal adviser is happy. And Miss Hannah."
"Sure, we'll talk," said Neville. "Got customers."
With that, Neville hopped up out of his chair and went looking for tables and chairs to match up with people. Harry thought about staying for a sandwich, changed his mind and went back to his office. It was a pleasant day, so Harry treated himself to a walk through Diagon Alley. He was letting himself linger a bit in front of a show window full of broomsticks when someone called his name.
"Harry."
He turned around.
"Daphne. Again."
"Don't say it with so much enthusiasm," Daphne said.
"Oh, stop," protested Harry. "Of course I'm happy to see you. It's just a surprise, two days in a row. After how many months? Would your owl even recognize me?"
Daphne looked away. Harry waited for Daphne to finish thinking over wherever she wanted to go next. They'd left open the possibility of seeing one another again. At the time, a chance encounter in Diagon Alley wasn't what Harry had envisioned.
"Can we talk?" Daphne said, at last.
"Of course," said Harry. "May I suggest my office? It's private, Kreacher would be delighted to bring you coffee, or tea, or some ice cream…"
Daphne thought it over some more.
"Yes, all right, that will be fine. Your office," she said.
"This way," said Harry.
One short walk later, Harry opened the street door into Harry Potter and Associates. No one was around the foyer, but Pansy came out from an interior office after Harry called out a 'Hullo' down the corridor.
"Daphne!" said Pansy. "Well. It's been…"
"A year, two, maybe?" said Daphne.
The former housemates stood looking at each other for a bit, then Pansy stepped forward with open arms. Daphne let herself be pulled in, close, even reciprocating a bit.
"What brings you here?" asked Pansy, before she realized that might be none of her business, and looked sideways at Harry.
"Coffee," said Harry. "Kreacher!"
A few minutes later, Harry had Pansy and Daphne accommodated in his office, a fresh pot of Kreacher's best magical shade-grown Central American arabica nearby, and the two Slytherins set about catching up. Harry was improvising. He knew Daphne had to have something on her mind, for her to show up twice in two days. It wasn't like Daphne to have anything happen by chance. If she had come looking for him, she had a reason.
Harry thought now and then of what was, once, a budding relationship between himself and Daphne Greengrass. They had barely spoken during their first six years at Hogwarts School, largely due to the house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry had noticed Daphne, during first year. Daphne had noticed Harry during first year, too. Still, it wasn't until midway through fifth year that Harry became conscious of the changes to his internal state whenever Daphne was close by. If they happened to glance at one another at the same time, Daphne had a way of dropping her head a few degrees and looking at Harry from under her long brown eyelashes, holding his eyes before giving him a little half-smile, turning up her mouth at one corner.
When that happened, Harry's class notes for the next half hour were useless. Harry had Hermione, though, luckily for him. Hermione would always let Harry compare their notes, allowing Harry to fill in the gaps caused by the attack of carnal thoughts featuring Daphne Greengrass.
Harry was a mess following his showdown with Voldemort. There wasn't anything unusual in that. Lots of witches and wizards were in the same condition right then. At least they'd survived. Daphne was the other party in one of the personal relationships Harry destroyed before he figured out he needed help. Unfortunately for Harry, he'd fallen, hard, for Daphne Greengrass before their split. Harsh words were spoken. Pride precluded either reaching out, offering peace and a new start. Harry longed for just that, but he couldn't make himself do it, rationalizing his inaction by telling himself he had destroyed any chance they'd had.
Pansy held up her side of the conversation in the office for a half hour, or a little better, before pleading a pressing need for something to eat. She took her leave with another hug for Daphne and a promise to get together for tea or coffee or something, one day soon. Harry followed her to the foyer.
"Got anything else you want to do?" Harry muttered.
"Not really, why? Do you want me to stay away?" Pansy asked.
"It's not too much trouble to take your time, is it? If I need extricating, it will be about two hours from now."
Pansy broke out into a huge grin.
"Okay," Pansy said. She looked at her watch. "Two-fifteen?"
Harry nodded, closing the street door behind her.
"Daphne," he said as he re-entered his own office. He left the inner door halfway open. Daphne took a look at the door, then back at Harry.
"No one else," Harry said. "It's just us. What can I do for you?"
Daphne Greengrass stiffened, surprised by Harry's direct question and her own reaction. She took a few seconds to marshal her thoughts.
"I—I'm not sure, exactly," Daphne began, then stopped.
Harry gave her a little time to become sure before he spoke up.
"Something's on your mind, Daphne," he said. "You've accidentally, just happened, to encounter me in a public place twice in two days. That's since not seeing me for…When was Neville and Hannah's wedding reception? A year? Eighteen months? That is not you, Daphne."
"Oh, fine, then," said Daphne. "You aren't sleeping with Pansy, are you?"
"Daphne," said Harry. "For Merlin's sake. You're a healer. Have you ever heard of confidentiality? If that's what you came…"
Harry was shifting his weight, getting ready to stand and escort her out when Daphne spoke, sounding a bit frantic.
"Stop! I didn't mean it that way," she said. "I just meant, if you aren't seeing anyone, you know, dating…"
Harry knew there was something he'd ought to be worried about but he didn't have enough information to decide what it was. All he knew was the Daphne Greengrass sitting across from him was rattled and not the cool, even-tempered professional woman he'd known.
"You want to try again? With me?" Harry asked. Even he heard the disbelief in his own voice.
"We didn't last long enough to try, really, did we?" Daphne asked, a little snicker in her voice.
"No," Harry admitted. He thought back to their final farewell, the end of their seeing each other, as singles in the initial stages of something. Harry had been an ass. He'd learned to label his behavior 'acting out' in some therapy session or another. Harry didn't act out now. He hoped that was all behind him.
"Look, Daphne, I had high hopes. I screwed those up. I've said it before and I'll say it now. It was my fault, I take full responsibility, and there is no reason for you to give me…anything. You did the right thing. No one who conducted himself like I did deserved to be friends with you, much less anything more. Do you see a way forward from that?"
"Harry, you were in pain," Daphne said. "I could see it, I just wasn't wise enough or experienced enough to do anything about it. Nothing effective, let's say."
"So you were right to run me off," Harry said. "If everything hadn't been so disrupted by the war your parents might have had the presence of mind to steer you away from me before things went as far as they did."
Daphne sat back in her chair. Harry noticed her coffee cup was empty. He picked up the carafe Kreacher had left them and touched the side with his free hand. Harry closed his eyes and kept his hand flat on the carafe. In less than a minute he was pouring another steaming coffee for Daphne.
"Show-off," Daphne said. She smiled the half-smile.
"I don't know," Harry said. "I'd very much like to progress from where we were. The idea that we wouldn't go further, romantically, was a little hard to accept, but I got over it. Not being able to have a civil conversation, though. That I never got used to. It seemed inevitable we would see one another, from time to time, just being a witch and a wizard, living in London. The thought that you would always cross the room, or the street, to avoid me, that hurt."
Harry poured two fingers of coffee in his own cup, picked it up and took a sip.
"It hurt twice as much knowing I did it to myself," he said, then took a little pause. "So, what brought this on?"
Daphne stiffened once again. Harry knew. What exactly, Daphne was fairly sure Harry didn't know, but he knew she wasn't simply giving the old not-quite-boyfriend another chance.
"If you don't want to talk about it right now, we won't talk about it," Harry said. "Eventually…"
"Can we put it off? Until then?" Daphne asked. "It's hard. Dirty laundry. Family."
"Daphne," Harry said, "I've been a mess. I know them when I see them."
"Harry Potter, don't you dare patronize me!"
"Uh-huh," said Harry. "Any of this sound familiar?"
Harry closed his mouth and waited, half-expecting a stream of expletives followed by a Daphne exit and a slammed door. Instead, Daphne buried her face in her hands and started to sob.