Merit and Inheritance
Chapter 11
Potter Magic
Harry finally consented to Pansy taking off during business hours to drink an alcoholic beverage at the Three Broomsticks, all in the interest of research into Dieter Berg, or any other member of the Berg family who might be using standard investigative techniques, going around, asking questions in places that might have been familiar to an earlier edition of Romilda Vane Berg.
Harry made note of the time. He resolved to give Pansy two hours, then he'd be overcome with a parallel desire for a butterbeer pushed across Rosmerta's bar. It was well-known there was something special about those to every Hogwarts alumnus.
The office was quiet and Harry was hanging around only to be available should Gringotts send an owl or a messenger with details for the closing of the purchase of the new building when the bell spell sounded. The bell was nearly drowned out by the simultaneous shout of, "POTTER!" generated by a female voice. Harry looked up into the enraged face of Daphne Greengrass, but what really concerned him was the tip of Daphne's wand that stopped its progress roughly eighteen inches from Harry's nose.
"DAMMIT POTTER WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Daphne screamed. She literally screamed. Harry hadn't heard Daphne scream before, but he couldn't take the time to note the occasion because it looked like she really wanted to use her wand on him.
"Daphne, I'm quite mad for you and would never do anything to hurt you or disadvantage you in any way. Can you lower your wand? Please?" Harry asked.
Daphne lowered her wand, but she didn't put it away. Instead, she threw a piece of parchment on Harry's desk.
"Read it!" Daphne ordered.
Harry picked up the parchment.
"Have a seat, please," he said. "Kreacher!"
"Kreacher is here, Master," said the elf. "Ah, Healer Daphne, an honor, as always."
Harry wondered if Kreacher sensed Daphne's agitation and was trying to do his part with his deep, nose-nearly-to-the-floor bow.
"A pot of tea, please, Kreacher. The black tea, some lemon slices, sugar cubes," Harry said.
"A you going to read that parchment Potter?" asked Daphne, a little louder than Harry thought necessary.
"Of course, just give me a moment," Harry said. He began reading aloud.
"My dear Lord Greengrass, etc, etc, my pleasure to inform…obligation to advise…debt to Gringotts free and clear…"
"Happy?" Harry asked.
"Harry Potter, you weasel, snake, slippery…"
"You're headed toward mudblood, Daphne," said Harry, a little warning note in his tone.
Daphne jerked back in her chair, eyes suddenly filled with tears.
"What are you doing to us, Harry," she asked. "And I've never called you a mudblood in my life and that really hurt!"
"Okay, can we talk now?" Harry asked. "Because this is serious and we have to talk it through, maybe three or four times. We'll probably have one chance and only one, to get it right. Can we get serious? Or do you want to come back to it later?"
Daphne took a deep breath. She finally used her wand, to do a little freshen-up charm on her face, then one more that Harry didn't really get. Maybe she fixed her minimal makeup?
Kreacher popped into existence with the tray holding the teapot, cups, saucers, lemon and sugar. Daphne used the time Kreacher needed to pour and serve to get control of her breathing.
"Thank-you, Kreacher," Daphne said, accepting the tea.
"Ready?" Harry asked when Kreacher had bowed and gone.
Daphne nodded.
"How did you get this?" Harry asked.
"Thank Merlin, Mother got it from the owl and opened it before Father saw it," Daphne said. "She called me and asked what it meant. I got there before he did, swore her to silence and came looking for you. What in Merlin's name, Harry?"
"Right," Harry began. "I apologize for not consulting with you but I thought it through, several times, and decided I had to do it this way for it to work. From your description, I concluded Cyrus is in a situation of his own making and in danger of dragging all of you down with him. Astoria, Morgana bless her, is just one facet of the risk you all face. The mortgage is a commodity. Gringotts sold it to me like any other asset that could be sold. Cyrus is now relieved of at least one of his debts to Gringotts."
"But you own the lien!" Daphne said, her tea cup rattling on the saucer. "What are you going to do? Put us all out on the street?"
"No, I'm trying to keep that from happening," Harry said. "Done right, this is the first step in unraveling Cyrus' financial mess and putting some order in the Greengrass family's business affairs."
Daphne took a sip from her tea cup, looking at Harry over the rim. The anger was gone from her face, replaced by an intensity around the eyes, making Harry feel like an object under study.
"Cyrus mortgaged the manor, took the money, didn't find a productive use for it, invested in a failed business, threw a party, whatever. It doesn't matter. He owed Gringotts, so I bought them out, so if worse comes to worst, I own the manor and you all won't be out on the street. With me so far?" asked Harry.
"Right," said Daphne. "Logical enough. Unless you are stringing me along and you really want something else."
"Well, you can listen closely, then you can tell me if you're uncomfortable with the rest of my evil plan," Harry said. "Cyrus owes more people. They can't get their hands on the manor, the house, lands, or anything else that is subordinate to that property because I own it. I still owe Gringott's, of course, but the lien takes precedence. However, I do have some leverage over your family's finances now because according to the terms of the loan I have the option to ask for additional collateral if the amount owed goes up, and if it is not forthcoming, I can foreclose and take the manor or auction it, however I want to do it, to settle the debt. Getting clearer?"
"Why do you want to take over our financial affairs? They're a mess, and I don't know the half of it because Cyrus lies and obfuscates whenever I ask," said Daphne.
"I don't want to take over," Harry said. "I want to work with you."
"What's to work with? Cyrus won't let me near…Oh…Harry Potter, you sneaking, conniving little…," said Daphne, running out of words.
"You have a head," said Harry. "I don't know if you have a head for figures or not, but that can be remedied. You have a head for what is right. For thinking systematically. With just a little push, you can get into Cyrus' books, if he has any, prioritize, rank order the obligations from most dangerous to least, deal with the most pressing, negotiate payment schedules for the lesser important ones, and so on."
Harry leaned back in his chair, slowly, to draw out the squeak. He didn't know why, but for some reason he liked to play the squeak, as if the chair were a musical instrument.
"He'll never do it," Daphne sighed. "Wizard. Pride. Thinks he knows, the witches certainly don't know…"
"Hence the need for just a little leverage," Harry said.
"How did you do it? Do you have half a million galleons lying around?" asked Daphne. "That's just a bit hard to believe."
"I might have been able to raise it on my own," Harry answered. "It wasn't necessary, though, because I have been doing a little business with Gringotts, not every single one as big as this, of course, but my record is good. I've made them a few galleons. The numbers worked for this. It's for our mutual benefit."
"So you just signed for a half-million galleons? From the goblins?" Daphne asked, the disbelief thick, mixed with confusion, mixed with disorientation as her entire body of assumptions about the goblins of Gringotts, not to mention Harry Potter, was chucked out the window.
"No," said Harry. "Before we go further, we need to talk about…"
"Stop, that reminds me," Daphne said. The interruption was rude, an almost-unheard of occurrence where Daphne Greengrass was concerned. "Before we go further, what did you mean, you're mad for me?"
"Just that," said Harry. "I always have been. I wanted to get to know you better in school and then after the war I still wanted to but you remember how that went. I knew, when I took the time to reflect, that I had ruined something that should have been wonderful. It would have done a lot to fix me. Sometimes we have to learn these things the hard way. You saved my life, you know. Losing you was such a shock, and I had no one to blame but myself. When I realized that, and felt it in my heart, along with the gratitude I feel this minute, is when I started to get better."
"I was as much to blame as you," said Daphne. "Smartass, spoiled, privileged witch with no empathy. I couldn't see what I was doing was wrong and hurtful because I couldn't feel the effect all my snottery was having on others. The personal growth it took to realize that was painful. Well worth it, though."
"Me too. You saved my life. It hurt terribly but was worth every twinge. What's done is done," Harry said. "Ready to move along?"
"Let's go," said Daphne.
"Good," Harry said. "First of all, you're going to learn some information about my business dealings, which is inevitable, but which I expect you will keep entirely to yourself. We're not doing anything criminal. It's just business. Opportunities come and go, but if someone gets there first, it's generally conceded it is their opportunity and gone from the market. Thus, insider information is privileged. You keep confidences, in your profession. You'll apply the same rules here."
"I didn't have to pay half a million to buy the loan, which had a little under four hundred thousand outstanding. I bought out the goblins' interest in the loan. They loaned me the funds, which I secured by putting up some properties from my own portfolio as collateral. Now I have a loan with Gringotts for the amount I paid to redeem Cyrus' note with them, making Cyrus my debtor. I expect to pay off the loan from Gringotts with income from my properties, which are up and running and profitable. It's not that different from what you did before, although perhaps the number is a little bigger."
Harry stopped to take a sip of tea and open up the floor, should Daphne have a comment.
"So you borrowed the money, from the goblins, to pay off the note on Greengrass Manor that was the result of Cyrus borrowing money from the goblins?" she asked.
"Yep, I borrowed the money and gave it right back, getting Cyrus out from under that loan he had with Gringotts," Harry said.
"But now you owe the goblins," said Daphne. "No one has actually paid off anything."
"Oh, that's where you're wrong," said Harry. "Cyrus Greengrass was going to, in effect, sell a daughter to a man who expects to get two for the price of one, in order to catch up with the interest on his loan from the goblins. They're implacable. They'd hate to see you being turned into a little side diversion of your brother-in-law's because they actually do have hearts and feel bad about that kind of thing happening to nice people like yourself, but they would never interfere in Cyrus' family life or decision making, not when it comes to protecting the bank's interests. That's their moral code. It all gets sorted out by keeping their noses in their ledgers and out of wizards' business. On the other hand, if a young, successful investor comes in and wants to do a good deed, and he's a better risk than the other guy, the goblins are just looking out for the bank's best interests, even if the young guy plans to interfere with the old guy's family life and decision making. That's just smart business."
"You're the young guy who is a better risk?"
"I am," answered Harry. "Whatever he might raise from Astoria would not last long enough to pay off the mortgage, so Cyrus would be right back in the same vise he is in now, with no more daughters on the shelf. At that point it's likely the goblins would have to take back the property anyway."
"You put yourself on the line to get Cyrus off it. Why?" Daphne asked.
"What should I do? You brought it to me. I've already said I'm not going to put you all out on the street," Harry said. "You're scared to death Astoria is going to end up with a cad. The guy is so obtuse he suggested an arrangement with you before he's had as much as a conversation with Astoria."
"Look, I can carry the new loan. If I had to, with the market the way it is, I could sell a building, probably within a week, take the equity and deposit it and let that pay the monthly payments for quite a while. When that ran out I could do the same thing again, if I had to. BUT, with me owning the loan, I can grant Cyrus, and you, a suspension of repayments for a reasonable period, subject to one or two conditions."
"And what would those be?" Daphne asked.
"You and I get to sit down with Cyrus and his records and his banker, if necessary, and do a good workout on his debts. We take whatever he has been paying Gringotts and get the other creditors something, anything. Then we show them you have control and you're doing business, not flimflam. Once we see the real numbers, we do an inventory of Greengrass holdings. If your father is sufficiently detached from reality he may be sitting on all kinds of stuff, assets, that can be turned into cash and used to pay down debt. Then, of course, once we have our hands on the money and the property, you can sit down with Cyrus, Cordelia and Astoria, and explain there will be no more talk of marriage contracts with Laurent—what was his last name?"
"Selwyn," said Daphne.
"I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to punch him in the nose?" Harry speculated. "Laurent Selwyn. Merlin."
Daphne sat across from Harry, smiling, a kind of prideful, Cheshire Cat-ish smile.
"Do you mean it? You weren't just trying to calm me down, were you?" Daphne asked.
"Mean what?" Harry asked. "We've covered a lot…"
"Are you really mad for me? Is that how you feel?" asked Daphne.
"Of course, I wouldn't joke about something like that," Harry said.
Daphne looked like she was ready to launch straight across the desk and plant a good one on Harry's lips.
"But we're doing business first and then talking that over at length before we do anything else and let our hormones take over, Daphne. You agreed. We can't cock this up because if we do it's going to be a mess of historical proportions. Help me get this right, and we'll go on to the other," said Harry, rattling it off like gravel cascading down a metal roof.
"You're right, of course, Harry," said Daphne. "What are the rules? Arm's length? Never alone together?"
"When do you want to talk to Cyrus?" Harry asked. "The sooner the better. It might go smoother than we anticipate. The business could all be on a completely different footing in a week, then we turn our attention to the workout phase, get the Greengrass family some breathing room. Then we talk about the other. Talk first, ah…"
He had a synonym for 'copulate' ready to go, buried it, and lost his train of thought.
"…later," Harry said. "Pull your lower lip in, Snakette, your wiles will not get you anywhere."
"I had to try," said Daphne. "You're soul-less, Harry. I must work on that, as soon as I have the time."
"Right, then," said Harry. "Cyrus was meant to get this letter today. Therefore, he should get it. Getting it from you might not be the best thing, since you and your mother have interfered in Lord Greengrass's sacred precincts. I suggest I accompany you. Then I'll be an additional resource, to answer any questions you might be asked that are outside the scope of your knowledge. There's also the matter of Astoria. Would Cyrus do the irrational, or unthinkable, and try to do a quick deal, just to exert his authority? In other words, would it be wise to get her out of town for a short vacation?"
"Oh, Merlin and Morgana, Harry," said Daphne, "I wish you hadn't brought that up. I have thought about that. He could, he's that full of pride, and himself. Cut off his nose to spite his face."
"Well, then," said Harry as he stood up. "Time is of the essence. Not to mention gold."
He stepped into his bathroom. Daphne heard a door hinge squeaking. Harry came back with a black robe and a necktie. He tossed the robe on his desk and turned up his shirt collar and tied the tie, turned down the collar and shrugged into his cloak.
"Going like that?" Harry asked.
"I guess, my closet's at home."
"Might be a good idea to leave a robe, pair of trainers, that kind of thing here. Give yourself the option to change. You'll be here from time to time, as long as we're in business together. You can share with Pansy, if sharing with me would be too…suggestive?"
"Harry Potter, you Puritan!" laughed Daphne.
"In a bad way?" Harry asked as they went out the door. Harry set the lock and wards on the door, took Daphne's arm, and started down the mews. Dieter Berg was fast, but he should have used an occlusion charm, because he was just enough slower than Harry for Harry to catch him ducking into a little recessed doorway.
"Hang on," Harry muttered as he dropped Daphne's arm and threw his around her waist.
"Where is this?" Daphne said as they materialized on the lawn of a large, derelict country house. "I thought we'd be going to Cyrus and Cordelia's."
"We will," said Harry. "This is just a little diversion. Stay with me, I don't think it will take very long."
"So where are we?" Daphne asked as they walked up a weedy path to the front steps.
"Devon," Harry said. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
"Sure, but whose place is this?" Daphne asked.
"Mine," said Harry. "It's the old Potter Manor. It was damaged in the fighting, I wasn't able to take care of it properly, so some elves and goblins got it stabilized and protected from the weather and I've been trying to find the time and funds to take on restoration. Projects just keep popping up. It's distracting. I really have to get my priorities in order. Let's get inside, I want to be ready."
"For what?" Daphne asked.
"I saw someone back there," Harry said. "I judge he didn't get something that he wanted from me and now he will try something a bit more…ah…forceful. You don't get sick or catatonic in the midst of violence, do you? Because I don't anticipate a lot of trouble, but you know how these things sometimes take on a life of their own."
Harry raised his wand and the planks that had been nailed over the great front door popped off and floated to the left side of the stairs, where they stacked themselves neatly, ready for re-use. Once the planks were gone the front door opened with a long, drawn-out sigh. Harry took Daphne's hand and led her inside to an ornate foyer. A long hall stretched ahead of them, black and white square tiles making up the floor, closed doors to the left and right, a flight of stairs inset in the right side of the hallway twenty feet or thereabouts ahead. Daphne noticed the tiles shone as if scrubbed and polished just for their arrival.
"Keep your ears open. I don't know if he knows how to follow, but if he does, he'll apparate out on the lawn. Let's go in here."
Harry opened a door on the right side of the hallway and they entered a room with high ceilings, paneled walls complete with a carved frieze, and dozens of framed pieces, presumably portraits, under drapes on the walls.
"Revelio!" Harry shouted, raising his hands above his head. Daphne noticed he didn't need to wave his wand around, but simply kept it in his hand, like he was conducting an orchestra. The drapes flew off the portraits and went away somewhere. A fire started in some logs in the fireplace and the lamps, candles and sconces lit up together.
"Everyone!" Harry shouted again, and the portraits began waking up, blinking, stretching, looking around. Some picked up eyeglasses and put them on.
"Everyone, this is the Healer Daphne Greengrass, the heir to Lord Cyrus of Greengrass Manor. Some of you had to know her family back when. There's all kinds of business I need to discuss with you but something is pressing right this minute and the other will have to wait."
"Harry Potter!" exclaimed one of the witches' portraits. "What have you gone and done?"
"Grandmother Dorea, I kept a confidence and this wizard Berg is being a pest about it. I think he may be on his way here. If so, I'll count on the Potters' family magic coming out to play. See how good it feels this morning," Harry said.
"Berg?" asked Dorea. "A Romansh Berg from Switzerland? What's his name?"
"Dieter," said Harry. "Know him?"
"Knew one," said Dorea, "But that one's dead, not at all sorry to say. They're always on the wrong side. Always. It's like a habit with them. What's that tie say?"
"Toujours Pur," Harry said, slipping his hand behind the tie and lifting a little, while he gave Dorea Black Potter a hopeful smile. "See the ravens? Are you pleased?"
"Of course, you little renegade," said Dorea, a huge smile taking over her face. "Make sure you put your girlfriend in a safe place, something about her aura is telling me she's a keeper."
"You're sounding authoritative, Grandmother," Harry observed.
"Harry," said Daphne, who was turned around, looking out the door. "Visitor."
"Oh, thanks," said Harry. He turned and flipped his wrist in the direction of a large sofa, causing the covering sheet to fly off and go somewhere.
"Let's sit down," Harry said.
"Going to have to get right back up again," Harry observed as Dieter Berg showed up in the center hall, just outside the door.