BlackDawgFang: Thanks so much! Honestly one of the reasons I never take the Auror route with Harry outside of general mention is... I hate cop shows. I hate the drama, I hate the crime, I hate seeing the victims. It's just a concept I loathe entirely as a story premise.
: I hope you enjoy the next installment!
delia cerrano: I'm not really planning a Cinderella type thing, but they will certainly have some bumpy experiences as this develops.
"Every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and choice, is thought to aim at some good; and for this reason the good has rightly been declared to be that at which all things aim." ~Aristotle
Bill had firecalled Harry not more than an hour after he finished reading the Gringotts letters. Harry had been sitting near the fire in a mild numbness of shock when the familiar voice called him out of his trance. For a while he refused to believe it. He had only just gotten his life figured out and hadn't even recovered from the war enough to sleep well at night and now this?
Harry was beginning to think that some vindictive higher power was deliberately doing these things to him. Why, he didn't know, but he thought he must have been one hell of an arse in a past life to deserve it.
"How," Harry asked carefully, "could I possibly be the heir of vaults older than the bloody bank itself?"
Bill had already come through the flames and was sitting near Harry. He sighed and his face took on a look so deeply exhausted Harry had only seen it once before; in a Weasley family photo when all the kids were still young and Mrs. Weasley was driven to the edge of madness hourly. "You became the Peverell Heir when you collected the Hallows, Harry. The laws are so old there's nothing anyone can do about it. I've been assigned to be your Representative from the bank since the Goblins refuse to have anything to do with you after you rode a bloody dragon out the roof of their building."
Harry snorted softly in amusement, a decidedly proud smirk appearing on his face.
"They've never been robbed before, Harry. Not successfully. They're a bit sore about it."
Harry shrugged. "Since the Ministry was in charge of the bank at the time the Goblins' record remains clear. Technically I robbed the Ministry."
Bill chuckled and shook his head. "You know, they might actually like that you said that. The reasoning will work well enough. Though I'm still not allowed to let you in the actual building, I've been assigned to help you sort all this out. The Goblins are choosing to see it as a special service for the man that now owns a significant portion of their entire livelihood."
Harry frowned and seemed to withdraw into himself a little. "I just hope I don't let it all go to my head like the Malfoys did."
Bill crossed his arms and seemed to think a bit. It was a common misconception that money was the root of evil; it wasn't. Greed and taking pleasure in having dramatic excess, yes, but not money itself. "Have you met nice Muggles?"
Harry blinked. This was off-topic, but maybe Bill just wanted to change the subject. "Yes, of course."
"Have you met mean Muggles?" Bill asked next in a prompting tone.
"Definitely," Harry replied instantly.
"Good," Bill nodded, apparently pleased with this answer. "Now, have you met nice Witches and Wizards?"
Harry gave him an incredulous stare. "Where is this going?"
Bill smiled benignly. "Just answer the question."
"Yes, obviously I have." Harry sighed.
"And you've certainly met mean-"
"Yes, Bill, I have met mean Wizards and Witches too. What the bloody hell are all these questions for?" Harry sniped.
Bill gave him a nod. "In both of those cases, the Wizardkind are more powerful than the Muggles, aren't they? Not all of them use their magic for good, and not all for evil. But you know what? The magic doesn't care. It's mostly impartial. If you're a bastard with a wand or a bastard without a wand… you're still a bastard. The person who has magic decides what the magic does. You can cast an Episkey or a Killing Curse, but the magic won't try to stop you either way. The same applies with gold. Having a lot of gold doesn't make you bad, any more than it makes anyone else bad. It's just gold. It doesn't care. Do you see what I mean?"
Harry did. "Oh," he relented. He imagined he must have spent too long listening to Ron whinge about the Malfoys if he started to make unconscious connections with money and arseholes.
"Exactly!" Bill clapped him on the back and grinned. "I have met both rich and poor working in this bank and I can tell you; there is no difference between them in personality. Yeah, there are a lot of other factors to consider, but all in all good people and bad people are everywhere, in all walks of life. And you know, with all this gold you can do a lot of good things or a lot of bad things, the gold doesn't care, but you do. Right?"
Harry grinned and nodded, feeling much better about this. "Right!"
"So what are you going to do?" the redhead laughed.
Throughout his life Harry had been told what to do or manipulated into everything else. There was nothing he had that wasn't earned or left by his parents or Sirius, which in both cases made him believe he was to be careful with it so it wasn't wasted. For the first time in his life, Bill was telling him, Harry was the one in control here. Complete control. He had the power to do whatever he wanted, and he could do it anywhere, anytime, or any how he wanted to. This realization lasted for an intoxicating two seconds.
Then, Harry didn't hesitate. "All lands and properties that were previously 'owned' by someone else I want returned immediately. Those that can't be legally returned or gifted per the inheritance I want put on a single knut rent per year with the option to buy if they make me an offer - any offer. I don't care if they want to trade a tin of biscuits - accept the payment. Everything earned in either rent or sale, donate to St. Mungoes. I don't want it."
Bill dipped his quill in the inkwell and began to write. "NOW you're getting it," he praised.
"What about historical stuff? Is there anything that can be better served donated to museums than stuck in a vault?"
Bill nodded. "I already have that noted as something you'd want to look at. In the meantime we have to be careful about your spending so that you don't overwhelm the fragile economy we have before it recovers from the war. That's an excellent start, though. Now that we have a bit whittled off, what's next, Mr. Potter?"
"Are there any properties left?" Harry asked.
Bill looked through his papers. "In fact there are, but it's all in one large unplottable area, and I think you might want to keep it."
"What's in it?"
"A castle."
When Harry spoke next it was in exactly the same tone Neville had used in second year after Harry had come back up from the Chamber of Secrets to say, "You killed a WHAT!?" and in fact, was roughly the same exclamation.
The first chance he got they headed out to see it.
Of all the things Harry had expected when he'd been told he owned a castle, this was most certainly not it. At some point in its history it must have been a relatively grand (for the era) structure. Now it looked like what happens to historical landmarks when left to rot for more than half a thousand years in places people can't access easily. Harry supposed living in Hogwarts must have dulled his senses on what an ordinary castle should look like, especially when the castle in question initially dated from the 1080's. He'd been a bit spoiled on that matter, he'd decided. There was a difference between a school-sized castle and one belonging to a single family line, especially since Hogwarts was so massive that it had to be supported by magic and could not have been constructed or maintained by any other means.
Still; this one was positively dinky in comparison and it would have made souvenir enthusiasts' mouths water as some of the stones in every bit of the place were loose enough to pry off and make away with before anyone noticed. That may have been why it was abandoned in the first place; when visitors would be able to play Jenga with your ancestral home it was probably time to move on. He took a deep sighing breath and walked on, trying very hard to ignore Bill's excitement as he followed to assess the worth of the property.
A decidedly Norman structure, the castle had strangely angled outer walls to account for the large hill it was situated on top of and wound up being a sort of huge triangle pointing toward the gatehouse. This led to the only path one could possibly approach from as the hill walls were so steep that any other entryway was likely suicide. The big square keep in the center of the back wall was tall and square, about five stories in height if he was reading the windows correctly, and looked as if it was a bit jealous of the 12th and 13th century buildings within its own walls. Even with the obvious collapsed roofs and flora growing out of the windows and entryways; they looked far more ideal as comfortable places to live in than the thick and imposing keep did.
Once they got to the very back of the bailey near the keep they actually discovered a collapsed bridge over a gorge and beyond that was another bailey and gathering of older buildings that didn't quite match the ones Harry had just passed. As Harry stared he realized that the smaller bailey in back and the wall surrounding it had been the original that matched the keep, whereas the back walls and buildings he had first seen came later. They must have used the gorge as the initial line of defense and only added the back wall when it became necessary to find an alternative entrance. A massive landslide had destroyed the first path and made the terrain impossible to pass, so the ridiculously steep and winding trail they had come up to get here had become the only option.
Harry thought about that for a bit, as it made no sense considering they had just come up the only passable gate. He leaned a little over to see the ruins of the collapsed bridge below, after which he clicked his teeth in irritation when his mental assessment of the remnants and the current length of the gorge didn't quite match up. This effectively meant that the big hill was splitting in two and the front half with the original entrance, the one he couldn't currently get to, was falling over into the valley below like a tired drunk - just very slowly.
"This place is amazing!" Bill said as he walked along the12th century great hall building, muttering as he counted his steps along the way to tell its size.
"You could say that," Harry allowed reluctantly.
Bill stopped and jotted down his count, then turned. "You could stabilize that hill with magic," he pointed out. "Restoring this place would be a good, or at least excusable, use of your gold. It would take a lot but I think you can do it."
"I could also leave it as a memorial."
"To what?' Bill asked curiously.
"To the memory of when this was actually one hill," Harry said solemnly.
Bill threw a pine cone at him. It bounced ineffectively off Harry's shoulder. "You're not going to restore it?"
"Would you?"
"Yes!" Bill said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You'd be giving a lot of people work that need it since the town nearby doesn't have any big employers and it's got enough Wizardkind in it to make a positive impact on the economy there. Even the Muggles might see an upturn in their fortunes when the money trickles down. We do shop at their stores, you know."
Harry paused and looked out over the village in the distance, which couldn't even see the castle due to the powerful charms around it. Much like Hogwarts there was the illusion of something entirely different here – a dense and evil-looking forest with fences and signs all around warning that it wasn't safe, this was private property, and that intruders would be punished as severely as legally possible. Having the area opened up might cause a bit of a stir since, in this case, that enchantment applied to everyone and not just Muggles. The Wizardkind in the area would be ecstatic when they found out about the place. "That's not a bad idea, but I don't know anything about restoring things or how to begin working the budget."
"That's what I'm here for, Harry," Bill said. "For a project this size I'll have to hire staff, though; and that's just for the accounting."
Harry scratched his chin and frowned thoughtfully. Now that he was thinking about it – roofs, windows and doors properly done, paths between each building, little gardens by the cottages, and the smell of smoke coming from the chimneys… it might not be a bad place. "How will I even take care of a place like this?"
Bill folded his scroll and gave Harry a firm look. "The House-Elf Relocation Office. When word gets out you're looking I'm sure-"
"-that Hermione will murder me!" Harry finished cheerfully. "Yes, that would solve the problem."
"Present it to her this way. Would she rather have the elves working for you, who will treat them well, or for the people they currently work for – or worse, remain homeless and liabel to starve?" Bill said sensibly. "As far as Masters go they could have far worse then you, Harry. Not many hire whole families of elves either. Even Hermione couldn't argue about you doing that to keep them together."
"Alright, I suppose I could," he conceded. "How many would I need though? This isn't exactly a little place."
Bill mentally checked off what he had seen so far. "I think there are twelve or thirteen structures in all. The cottages in the small baily should do alright with one elf each, and the bigger buildings here should have two. For the Great Hall and Keep I would say have three each, along with an elf specifically for yourself – possibly to be the supervisor for all the others. It may be overkill, but that would make light work for the elves and it isn't as if you can't afford to feed them."
"That's twenty or so," Harry mused. "Even in a place this size I guess that would keep them from working too hard. The cottages don't seem all that big from here."
"Actually, I think that one is a stable," Bill said. They both squinted to try and make it out, but neither could tell. "We'll assign three elves for that one, then, just in case. Well, then? Shall we begin?" Bill asked with his quill already poised.
"Yeah," Harry smiled and began to ask for estimates.
Days later when Harry was in the middle of his first exam to test out of the DADA course for the year he got a letter from a contractor complaining that the inside dimensions of the buildings didn't quite match up with the outside. Not only did he need more materials and workers, he would also need more elves and a specialist from the Ministry in Undetectable Extension charms to evaluate the interiors of all the buildings. Harry muttered to himself and went about his exam after writing Bill for advice, mentally chiding himself for not bloody expecting that in a Wizarding castle.
It had been an utterly exhausting few days while Harry and Bill arranged what they could. There was still so much more to do that it made him shudder to think of it, so he tried hard not to. A few glasses of wine helped (the elves were extremely generous with him) and a treacle tart later had him feeling better about it all.
Ok, so... what had changed?
Not too much that Harry could fathom.
He was, in fact, so rich that he didn't think he could fathom it. That was... great actually. He could donate to causes that needed it, help the Weasley's out, rebuild the clock tower to mind-buggering quality, and basically do anything he wanted. The most important thing he had gained was freedom, and that was mostly because of the deaths of the two most powerful and manipulative Wizards on Earth. That last one gave him a twinge because he was now well aware they had both wanted him dead, in one way or another, and her shook his head physically to try and clear the former Headmaster's image from his mind.
The papers were raving about him already. That was perfectly normal and nothing that bothered him in the slightest. Harry found himself unable to care. He decided to worry about it all after he had some sleep.
When Harry's uniform came back from laundry it was lying folded on his bed as it usually was. Something caught his eye, though, and he stared at it. While the Prefect's Badge bore the house colors and symbol overwritten with a large P this badge was the Hogwarts Crest itself. Instead of the school's motto in the banner beneath the crest it said, "Apprentice Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor" with little bats on either side of the lettering.
The note pinned to his robe was from the Headmistress.
Mr. Potter,
There has never in the history of Hogwarts been an Apprentice Professor. Achieving such a position is no small feat, Mr. Potter. As you will not have time to complete duties as either a Prefect or Head Boy I have decided to invent a new badge just for this occasion. You have earned the recognition. Wear it proudly. I trust you will do it justice.
If you believe you will have the time available I would like to ask if you are interested in reinstating the Dueling Club as a weekend activity for those students interested in learning from an experienced duelist. During the unfortunate events of the previous year I heard many good things about your teaching skills from those you dubbed 'Dumbledore's Army', particularly in your ability to instill confidence in even the most timid of students. This is a valuable skill that not many people have and it would benefit the school greatly to have a decently experienced team of Auror candidates graduating yearly.
Please let me congratulate you once again, and suggest that you not disappoint me.
Headmistress MacGonagall
"Well… I guess the D.A. is back in business." Harry said smugly, trying his robe on to view the badge in the mirror.
When Draco boarded the train he did so alone.
His parents had always been there with him to bid him farewell. There had always been greetings from the families who shared their beliefs and the interaction of Draco with their children, who were possible alliances. He had talked and grasped hands and shared courteous nods with those people he was instructed to know for the sake of his future. His parents had always pointed out new faces and listed their names so that Draco could remember in the event he met them again.
He saw none that he recognized here. The fear of returning to a school that must now hate them must have been too great for a very high number of Slytherins - the older ones at least. Perhaps they had been smart enough to procure alternative methods of transportation at least to avoid being cornered on the train, but that left Draco a solitary Slytherin in a sea of other houses; discounting those unlucky few new children destined for the place and unknowing of it. He boarded the train as unobtrusively as he could. His parents had offered to come, but he had seen the hesitation in their eyes. The risk was too great to them, so he went without company to spare them the dangerous antagonistic atmosphere of a post-war world.
He had expected a clamor of activity at some random area of the platform as Potter and the rest of his gaggle of socially established heroes arrived, but no such event passed. Whether they were already at the school or arriving late didn't matter; it only figured that the one time Potter's presence would have actually assisted in Draco's life by providing a convenient distraction he failed to show up. Regardless, Draco had never been so grateful that the school uniform had no real distinguishing characteristics. If he kept his head low and allowed his poorly trimmed white-blonde hair and black robes speak for themselves he looked no different than the rest of the slowly moving throng of bodies heading toward the compartments. In fact, combined with his pallor and grey eyes he almost looked monochromatic and would have been invisible if not for the dramatic difference between him and the somewhat more colorful visage of his schoolmates.
He had arrived as early as reasonably possible to both have the benefit of getting lost in a crowd and the chance of an empty compartment. The fact that he managed to achieve both was beyond the realm of his comprehension for a while after he had shut the little door sealing him safely within. There would be low attendance this year so it was not terrible that he had locked the compartment door. There would be plenty of room for everyone that was daring to board in other spaces. Draco needed this space to himself.
As he had been so busy simply trying to survive just that morning, Draco had not been able to do much of the summer work that would have prepared him for the new year and he had very little time. He picked up one of the old, scribbled in, and faded schoolbooks he had bought at the used bookstore with what coin his family could spare and began to scan it intently. Try as he might he couldn't seem to get the sound of his mother's voice out of his head as he attempted to read.
She had told him that he was unlikely to get many proposals from a decent Guarantor on his announcement for Consort due to the nature of his family's fall. It was one thing to lose a war, but to defect? That put him lower than most blood-traitors in the eyes of people that previously would have been scrabbling for his attention. Before he left, his mother had taught him something very valuable for his future that she had learned in the Black household as a girl.
He prayed he wouldn't need to use it.
To those I may have confused:
Once again, I am writing from the books. Therefore the Hogwarts Uniforms are as follows; Black Robe with no distinguishing marks to indicate House (the only distinguishing patch would be the Prefect and Head Boy/Girl badges, Quidditch Captain badges, and the Inquisitorial Squad medals), Pointed Hat, and Winter Cloak with silver fastenings (if needed). Students wear their own shoes, usually black. There are NO colored scarves, House Patches, House Ties, House Cloaks etc… Those items were an invention of the movies. Neat-looking and awesome inventions, but still not part of the original uniform. They're just... black robes and pointed hats. That's it.
On that note: I imagine Hogwarts looks very depressing in the winter without even little splashes of color in the uniforms. Also, it would make Harry's eyes extremely bright in comparison to the rest of him, and Draco would look... awfully subdued with grey eyes and white-blonde hair.
Harry's castle is based off of Peveril Castle/Peak Castle in Derbyshire. A simple internet image search will give you a really good idea of what his new place looks like, though it is currently in ruin. Don't worry – he'll fix it up nicely. I am aware that this chapter was very Harry-centric, but it was necessarily so. Rest assured there will be Draco-centric chapters later on.