Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Nine
A Most Annoying Fellow
Neville Longbottom took the early morning shift at the Leaky Cauldron the next day, letting Hannah sleep in. She arrived just before eleven, to allow Neville time for a break before the lunch rush.
"Going to see Harry," Neville said, folding his apron and stuffing it in a cubbyhole behind the bar. "Back by a quarter after."
"News?" Neville asked when he'd taken a chair across the desk from Harry.
"Possibly late this afternoon, more likely tomorrow," said Harry. "You're in need of some action, aren't you?"
"This couldn't have come at a better time," Neville said. "Hannah has really built up the business over there but the space and kitchen capacity are maxed. What I add can be done by an elf or two, with Hannah behind the bar to preside over it all. I've been looking for a direction to expand a little, so, yes, I'm ready for some new action."
"Great!" said Harry. "There is a lot of opportunity right now in magical real estate. Not just around the Alley, either. I've been looking for a purely commercial property, just for something different. I've been thinking minimum three months for repairs and renovations on this next place, then if all goes well and it's at full occupancy, maybe spread out a little bit, look for something near an anchor. St. Mungo's for healers' offices, the Ministry for the lawyers, that sort of thing."
"Those ought to have a high probability for success," said Neville. "Good thinking."
"Oh, well, it seems so obvious, I don't think I can take credit," Harry said. "Although I have learned it's not obvious to everyone."
"You can say that again," said Neville. "Maybe it's a gift. Can't be taught."
"I was wondering," Harry said, changing direction without warning, "If you remember Daphne Greengrass?"
"My cousin Daphne Greengrass, the healer? Sure, I remember her. You danced with her at our wedding reception. You both looked like you'd rather be outside in the grass on hand and knees, gagging."
"Okay, that was then, alright?" Harry said. "We…had difficulties. Communicating. A couple of years before. It hadn't been long enough at the time."
"Uh-huh," said Neville. "Jumping ahead, this wouldn't have anything to do with Cyrus and some cash flow problems and intra-familial issues deriving therefrom, by any chance?"
"Oddly enough," Harry said. "How do you know? I had muffliato in place the whole time we were talking."
"I don't know, Harry, in all honesty I don't know," said Neville. "You can see a wreck of a building and know whether it's worth buying and renovating and adding to your portfolio. I often see where your conversations are going to end up, long before you get to your conclusion. It works for my whole family, don't ask me how. Daphne and Astoria are cousins, not close, but still. Cyrus Greengrass doesn't have any financial sense. When he had a little job with someone he managed to keep his head above water and the family respectable. Cordelia maintains herself chemically. Daphne is smart and industrious. She doesn't need a lot, prefers to live modestly and think about the long view. Astoria's smart in her own way but she needs to be an aristo wife and live a magical country life. It's like a destiny thing. Taking all of that into account, it makes sense Daphne is in need of a little consulting work from an experienced business hand."
"Oh, well," said Harry. "Neville, if we're going to be partners, we'll need to be able to speak frankly. Embargo the information, please, at least temporarily. Not to conceal anything from Madam Hannah, of course, just keeping, not secrets, as such…"
Harry Potter didn't formulate his sentences before he started talking. Neville got where he was going, though.
"It's best if I don't share the conversation with Hannah?"
"For now," said Harry.
"You're working with Daphne on the Greengrass finances?"
"Discreetly, of course," Harry said. "Consultations. Nothing more, I assure you."
"Be careful, Harry," said Neville. "Cyrus is very vulnerable. I am pretty sure if he had to raise cash to liquidate some of his loans he'd be out of money long before he was out of loans. In other words, he is effectively bankrupt. You don't want to get dragged under with him."
"Oh, I don't want to bail him out or take over his debts or co-sign for loans or anything like that," said Harry. "I would be curious about assets he might have that are undervalued or overlooked, that sort of thing. I'd start there, if asked. From what I've heard, he doesn't have a clue about business. Valuation, profit and loss, those kinds of things. Daphne and I were on cordial terms at one time. We had a bite to eat together recently. That was cordial, too. If the family could use a consultant's help, in a way that didn't threaten Cyrus, you know, psychologically, Daphne might be able to take the lead…"
"Ahhh…" said Neville, smiling, "Excellent, Harry. That's really excellent. What do you need from me?"
"Perhaps a bit of information on the Greengrass family, some evening, maybe over a little mead? Just background. No need to upset Daphne by informing her we're talking about her behind her back."
"We close the kitchen at ten in the morning on Sunday, and don't open the bar at all," said Neville. "It's effectively our one day off. How about Sunday afternoon, four o'clock? Longbottom Manor?"
"Great, see you then," Harry said.
"Got to run, lunch rush," said Neville. He made a little waving gesture. "Madam Longbottom…"
"Understood," said Harry, getting out from behind the desk to take Neville to the street door.
Harry added Sunday afternoon to his planner and leaned back in his chair. That Neville always had the best insider scoops, Harry thought. He wondered if he could cultivate whatever the thing was that resulted in getting such high quality information in himself? Still, Neville seemed to be a natural. Maybe it was better to let Neville handle that and Harry would look for the business opportunities.
The owl arrived late in the afternoon. Pansy had been out being Pansy all day so Harry was alone.
"Mr. Potter," the note read.
"I am pleased to inform you the loan committee approved your application. I will have the documentation ready for signing tomorrow morning at ten."
It was signed by Harry's usual goblin loan officer.
Harry decided to close up and go see his prospective new building. He didn't have the keys and couldn't go in and start making plans until he had closed on the property, but he could look around outside and refresh his memory of the place.
He found he really didn't need to. The building was very much as he'd remembered it, a ground floor suitable for one or two offices topped by three flats. There was a step-down entrance in front. Harry walked around back via an alley and looked for an exit, which he found. It was old and didn't look very secure. He and the elves would definitely want to look into upgrades to the door, locks and grills if they were going to put the basement in condition to host a business of some kind.
Harry came away from his visit to the building in a very good mood. He was hungry and walked while he thought about his options for something to eat for lunch. Distance doesn't mean a lot when a wizard can disapparate and reappear almost anyplace he's ever been, if his magic is strong enough. Harry thought about the pasty he'd had in Penzance the night before and decided he'd like to go back for the fish and chips.
He'd taken enough time with his visit to the new building to outwait the lunch rush, so Harry saw only a sprinkling of occupied booths and tables in the pub. He entered and gestured toward the gents' when Nelson approached.
"Be right back," he told the ghost, as he walked past Daphne Greengrass and a solidly-build wizard wearing a blue blazer, seated in a booth about halfway through the pub.
When he finished, Harry asked for a seat in the back part of the room, an order of fish and chips and a butterbeer. He oriented himself so he wouldn't see Daphne and her friend when they got up to leave.
Harry had a hard time enjoying his lunch, even though the fish was fresh, battered and fried up to perfection. No matter how many times he told himself that he and Daphne had some mutual business, and they'd agreed there was nothing more at present, he could feel himself reverting to jackass mode. Harry used some effective anger management techniques to stay in his seat, eat fish and drink butterbeer, like any ordinary magical citizen day-tripping to Penzance. He didn't enjoy the fish and he didn't enjoy keeping the emotion tamped down. This led to more, very unsatisfactory, internal arguments with himself over the exact nature of his dealings with Daphne Greengrass.
Harry finished his lunch and was thinking about another butterbeer when he thought of Neville's description of himself and Daphne looking like they'd have rather been somewhere gagging than dancing with each other. That made him laugh, because it was true. They hadn't put enough distance between themselves and their earlier fiascoes to truly feel like dancing together. Now Harry thought about Neville's comment and decided he once again would have preferred to be outside gagging than staying in the pub. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a good supply of sickels and walked up to the bar, relieved to see Daphne and the mystery gentleman gone from their booth.
"Fish and chips and a butterbeer," Harry said, dropping enough sickels for the food and a generous tip for Nelson and the bartender.
Harry took a stroll along Penzance' waterfront, breathing the sea air and enjoying the sight of the boats bobbing at their moorings. The further he walked, the better he felt. The better he felt, the more confident he was that he was starting to put the pieces together in the puzzle of how to help Daphne extract Astoria from Cyrus' financial sinkhole.
Harry's only piece of afternoon business was to confirm his appointment at Gringotts the following morning. Once that was done he sat looking at a piece of parchment, occasionally dipping a quill in his inkwell and writing some cryptic note. When he got enough notes he'd draw little boxes around them. Some of the boxes had numbers. Harry was thinking through steps. The sequence would be important.
Harry walked through the office, looking for anything that needed tidying or putting away before he left for the night. It was late so he planned to apparate home. He was already anticipating falling into bed when he heard the bell that sounded when the street door was opened. Harry drew his wand and stepped into the foyer.
"Potter! It's me! Daphne!"
"I can see that," Harry said, slipping his wand back into his sleeve. "What in Morgana's name were you thinking, strolling in here this time of night?"
"It's not quite eight, and what in Merlin's name are you doing inside here with your door unlocked if you're worried about security?" Daphne asked.
"I concede your point," said Harry. "I got involved in some work. Business, that's all. This is where I do that, so what's your motivation?"
"I had to come see you," said Daphne.
Harry stood still, staring into Daphne's eyes.
"Why?" he asked, when he'd stopped staring.
"You saw me out having lunch with someone today and I wanted to clear the air," Daphne said.
"What's to clear?" Harry asked. "I admit it was a surprise to see you there with the rather good-looking chap. I'll go further and admit I was unhappy about it. However, I drew on some things I've learned since…our difficulties and remembered we agreed we'd work on the business we've taken on and leave everything else until later. My mind is at rest."
"Oh," said Daphne. "That's very mature thinking, Harry. I didn't expect—"
"I know," said Harry.
"Oh—that's all wrong. I knew it when the words started to come out but it was already too late."
Daphne's distress at her faux pas was genuine, but comical.
"Don't worry about it, you're just being honest," Harry said, smiling. "Can I ask, without prying, if you were there for business?"
"No, but that's okay, and yes," Daphne answered. "Although, I think the man in the blazer and gelled hair believed we were on a date. A first date. Getting to know you. Dutch treat."
"He didn't!" exclaimed Harry.
"His name is Laurent Selwyn and he is the prospective husband of my sister, should Father conclude his sleazy deal to raise funds and get out from under his debts. Laurent, gentleman that he is, offered himself up to me as my fancy man. He came right out and said he finds me much more desirable, and he realizes I have a career and I wouldn't be interested in handling his social calendar and entertaining, so perhaps I'd agree to leave that to Astoria while he and I have an understanding. I asked about his plans for an understanding with Astoria and he did not see the relevance. Can I ask, without prying, if I look to you like I require a fancy man?"
Harry was literally dumbstruck. He wasn't naïve. He knew people had all kinds of exotic private lives. Many wizards considered outside relationships part of the standard kit of magical male privileges. Still, Harry couldn't remember hearing of such a blatantly disrespectful approach to a witch, much less getting it from an original source.
"So you rebuffed the offer?"
"I thought so," answered Daphne, "But after going back over our conversation I now believe he believes we've concluded a promising opening meeting in an ongoing negotiation."
Harry had never heard anything so funny as Daphne's answer to his question. She couldn't believe it herself, it was plain.
"You'd better come in," Harry said, laughing as he led the way into his private office. "Please have a seat."
Harry ran through the news about his new building. He expected to close that week and wanted to get started on renovations as soon as he had the keys. Recent experience indicated the flats would be occupied as long as they were habitable. The rents would make the building just barely profitable, then he'd see about the ground floor before moving on to the basement. Cleaned and brought up to code, the basement could at least be rented for storage.
"I'm impressed," said Daphne.
"Can I ask you a question?" asked Harry. Daphne shrugged.
"How much did Cyrus borrow when he put up the manor for collateral?"
"I believe it was half a million," said Daphne. "That's from Mother and she'd had a few, so adjust accordingly."
"Half a million galleons?" asked Harry, all but gasping. He was multiplying, checking his math, multiplying again.
"Sure, what else?" Daphne said. "Ducats? Pieces of Eight?"
"Okay, you got me there," said Harry. "What does the land bring in? What do you do with it? Farm? Shoot partridge?"
"It's rented, market rates," said Daphne. "Most of the families stuck with these places support the house, barely. Manors are follies, fundamentally. If the wizard can maintain the house and the elves and the gardens then the family has a lovely country place to raise the children, entertain and hold a wedding now and then. You've got one, don't you? What is the net?"
"Technically, yes," said Harry. "The goblins manage it. Their fee is based on the valuation and ends up costing me around eighty percent of the profit in an average year. It's only recently I've had enough income to start thinking about putting some into the country place. Anyway, we have to focus on the Greengrass issue, for now. Half a million. Hmm. Anything else? I'm working tomorrow, soo…"
Harry stood up from his chair, signaling the end of the meeting. Daphne didn't pop right up. Instead she sat, looking up at Harry, before giving him a brief smile and standing.
"Nothing more tonight," she said, crossing the office and foyer.
"G'night," he heard as the street door closed.
Harry finished up at the office, went home and managed to stay awake for one cup of tea. He was in bed waiting for sleep when he realized Daphne's actions and final comment might have had embedded in them an answer to a question he hadn't asked. Still, they'd already agreed to business first, the personal later.