Chapter Four
A Very Informative Lunch
Harry spent the morning in typical fashion, approving documents sent to him for clearance, reviewing crime reports, attending a planning meeting. He was unable to give any of it his full attention, because he could not stop thinking about his upcoming lunch with the chairman of Gringott's Bank.
The morning dragged by until, finally, it was time to leave. Harry told his assistant he was going, and wasn't sure how long lunch and whatever business Ragnak wished to discuss would take. When Raffles was safely housed in the cage behind the desk in the squad room, Harry took the floo system to the Leaky Cauldron. He saw Hannah Abbott behind the bar and gave her a wave, then went out the back door and the entrance to Diagon Alley. Once inside Gringott's, Harry looked around for a goblin so he could ask for directions to the board room. Before he could act, a goblin in a dark suit appeared at his elbow.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," the goblin began. "May I introduce myself? I am Anvil, Chairman Ragnak's assistant. Allow me to take you to the chairman's office, if you'll just come this way?"
Harry fell in step with Anvil, passing from the lobby with its teller cages through a door that opened into a hallway that appeared to be composed of heavy, closed doors, all with brass plaques indicating whose office each was. The goblin kept up a steady patter of, "How did you come, ah, by floo to the Leaky Cauldron, yes, it's just across the way, and how has the week gone, well? Good, very good." At the end of the hall, Anvil led the way through a door into a suite with its own reception area. Two goblins stood talking in the middle of the room.
"Head Auror," said one, turning to Harry.
"Chairman," said Harry.
"May I present the head of Gringott's trust office, Whetstone? Whetstone, Mr. Potter, Head Auror."
All assured all they were quite pleased to be there, and to meet one another.
Ragnak and Anvil shepherded Harry and Whetstone through a door that opened into a spacious room with a long table and at least twenty chairs. "Thank you Anvil," said Ragnak. "Be sure to come break us up if we run over."
It almost sounded like the goblin was trying to be gracious, Harry mused. When had he seen a goblin anything but serious? He honestly could not remember a single occasion.
Goblin cuisine was very simple, with lots of raw vegetables and chunks of meat, which most humans considered poorly cooked, if cooked at all. Lunch, therefore, did not take very long, and after minimal pleasantries, Ragnak got down to business.
"Mr. Potter," he began, "Gringott's has been handling some responsibilities on your behalf, some properties placed in trust with the bank by your late father, James, before his untimely death. Whetstone is here to answer any questions you may have if I am not able. This is a complex matter, and I will do my best to keep things as simple as possible."
"The Potter holdings came to your father following your grandfather's death. When your father attained his majority, we met with him as we are with you now. Your father was not inclined toward personally managing the Potter business enterprises. He and your mother were involved in the resistance to Voldemort when you were born. You became James Potter's heir and the properties were held in trust for you after his death, as they are today. Whetstone has a document that lists the properties."
Ragnak handed Harry a sheet of parchment. Harry gave the list a quick look. Two things jumped out.
"Mines?"
"Indeed. Goblin-operated and productive," Ragnak said, the pride evident in his voice.
"And a manor?" Harry said. "There is a Potter manor?"
"Yes," Ragnak said. "The Dark Lord Voldemort destroyed the buildings in an attempt to pressure your parents, who had refused to join his movement, but the land is still there, rented out to farmers."
"May I ask why I'm just finding out about this now? It's been a decade since I attained my majority."
"We expected you would," said Ragnak. "Following the chaotic years, and your final encounter with Voldemort, a great deal of rebuilding was needed. Gringott's itself sustained extensive damage," Ragnak paused, holding Harry's eyes with his own. "The details need not be gone over again, do you think?"
Well, Harry knew he, Ron and Hermione had gained access to the vaults, had broken into one owned by Bellatrix Lestrange, stolen an item stored there, freed Gringott's security dragon and used it to escape, nearly destroying the bank building in the process. All of it turned out to have been necessary for the defeat of Voldemort, so Harry thought bygones could be considered bygones, but, it seemed, Ragnak was informing him otherwise. Informing him pretty diplomatically, too, for a goblin.
"Go on," Harry said.
"Once the immediate damage was remediated, Gringott's formulated a recovery plan. Estimates were made, budgets drawn up and approved. Bank security was upgraded to the state of goblin security design art. Liaison issues were handled with the Ministry for Magic and the muggle treasury. Gringott's has kept careful accounts, which are available for your inspection."
He gestured toward Whetstone, who passed over a stack of parchment covered in numbers.
"A summary is here on top, but you're welcome to take the itemized sheets," said Ragnak. He let Harry read for a bit. "Head Auror, the numbers may be a little higher than you're accustomed to seeing in your personal accounts."
"To say the least," Harry thought.
"Let me walk you through the important points. Gringott's had several million galleons in damage. The goblin structural specialists took most of a year just to assess and plan the job ahead. Gringott's accepts that a dangerous artifact was on its premises, and that it had to be destroyed. Under the conditions prevailing at the time, in combination with Gringott's rules of access, it is possible that no other action would have provided a favorable outcome.
"Gringott's acknowledges that the death of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and the dispersal of his forces, was in everyone's best interests, including those of the goblins. In recognition of its responsibilities, following months of internal meetings, discussions with its legal counsel, et cetera, Gringott's made a decision to divide the costs evenly between yourself and the bank."
Harry must have given something away as Ragnak hurried on.
"Your vault was untouched, as we knew you would have expenses until you established yourself in some job or profession. Do you enjoy your work as an auror, Mr. Potter?"
"I do," said Harry. "Is that relevant?"
"It could be,' said Ragnak. "If I may, goblins were despatched to assess the Potter properties held in trust for you. The mines were in good condition underground since Voldemort had contented himself with destroying the surface buildings. Goblin miners do not concern themselves with affairs above ground, so the mines were back in production almost immediately. The operations are fully restored and you are welcome to inspect them at your convenience."
"Gringott's restored the management function at Potter Manor and the rents are paid promptly. The buildings were rubble, and the rubble has been cleared away. If you wish, you may rebuild, or convert the site of the manor to some other use. Gringott's will be happy to make its management consultants available at a favorable rate."
"This is all very interesting, and a real surprise, but why am I here today? Why now, and not five years ago?" asked Harry.
"Inquiries as to your whereabouts came back negative, initially. The trust department took over the property recovery efforts, anticipating your return, and by the time you were again available for consultation, the budgets were locked in, and a decision made to stick to our course, one could say."
"You have been given a great deal of information, and it appears to have been completely unexpected. Let me assure you, Mr. Potter, if, after reviewing Gringott's work, you wish to take issue with a Gringott decision or accounting practice, we are at your disposal. Now, I must show you just one additional document. This," Ragnak accepted a parchment from Whetstone, "shows a summary of the income from your various enterprises. Manor, here, mines here, and some passive investments Gringott's trust department made on your behalf with some occasional surpluses. Projections for out years are shown here."
Harry reached for his glass of water and took a swallow. Then he took several more swallows. Feeling he had gotten control of his voice, he said, "Gringotts' reputation for sound management is well-deserved."
Ragnak and Whetstone seemed pleased to hear that, for goblins.
"I will need to schedule some trips to look at the properties," Harry said. "And I'll want to look at these at some length. I won't pretend I don't mind that these decisions were taken without me. I do grasp that everyone was under extreme duress at the time. If I accept the decisions, and the accounting, have I discharged my debt for the damages?"
"Absolutely. Gringotts doesn't expect a single knut in addition to what is shown on the parchment before you. Should you wish to continue with Gringotts management, we can discuss terms. I think you'll find the bank can do very well for you. Which leads back to my question about your job. You don't have to make any decisions at the moment, of course. I think it is safe to say you will not have financial concerns for the rest of your life, whether you choose to work, or not."
Ragnak had taken the Head Auror by surprise. Harry sat staring ahead. He had thought he was a poor relation, an embarrassment to his family, until he was eleven years old. Then Hagrid had taken him to Gringott's for money for school supplies and uniforms, and he learned his parents had left him a vault with a substantial amount of gold. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had entered auror training, eventually earning a respectable salary. He liked being an auror, and he thought of his vault as a nice backup, managed to live on his pay, and put a little aside each month. The vault, however, was small potatoes in contrast with his holdings. One thing he knew for certain, though-he couldn't make any decisions right away. This was going to require careful study.
Ragnak looked up as the door opened and Anvil looked in, giving Ragnak a nod.
"Thank you, Anvil," Ragnak said. "Just one minute. Mr. Potter, if we can gather these up I'll see that they're bagged and will be ready to take with you when you depart. There is one more matter that Gringott's is obliged to bring to your attention, and it would be better if these aren't here just now."
"That's some indirection," thought Harry. "Worthy of a Ministry man. Wonder what else he's got up his sleeve?"
Harry sat, waiting for the next meeting and wondering what could top the last one, when Ragnak cleared his throat.
As Harry turned, Ragnak said, "Miss Greengrass, this is Mr. Harry Potter."
"I know who he is," said Miss Greengrass. "How could I not? We were in the same year at Hogwarts."
Harry should have been speechless, but some instinct, or bit of auror training, kicked in and he managed a "Yes, of course. How very nice to see you," before reverting. With some effort, he forced the corners of his mouth to turn up in what he hoped looked like a smile, because he had no idea who the beautiful woman was who stood before him. Harry tried not to be too obvious about it, but the perfectly coiffed blond hair, business suit, color coordination including shoes and nail polish, would have made an impression on the least impressionable observer. To top off her coordinated appearance, the woman had eyes, blue, shading toward gray, that reminded Harry of a photo he had seen of a glacier.
"Mr. Potter, this is Miss Daphne Greengrass" Ragnak said. "Please, everyone sit down. Anvil, I think we need some tea, and another pitcher of water, please."
Once everyone was seated, Ragnak began again.
"Miss Greengrass, Mr. Potter, Gringott's Bank fulfills many functions in the magical community, or communities, of Britain. Among those is a kind of stewardship, very ancient in nature. So ancient, in fact, it can't be determined exactly when, or even why, the practice began. I'm speaking, of course, of our custodial function for marriage agreements between the older, more traditional families."
"Such an agreement exists between the Potters and the Greengrasses, concerning yourselves. May I ask if you were aware of that fact? Because in Gringott's experience, such agreements are usually acted upon, or abrogated according to agreed-upon terms, by the time the parties attain your respective ages."
Daphne spoke first. "Of course I'm aware of it. I can't remember NOT being aware of it. As for not acting on it, Mr. Potter might have something to say about that since he has, quite pointedly, not spoken a single word to me since we attained our majorities."
Harry was unable to speak. He was unable to formulate thoughts. Head still spinning from the previous meeting, this news had tipped him completely off balance. Daphne Greengrass had been a vague presence in school, one of the mass of students whose name would appear on a roster, or who would be in with the other Slytherins for a joint section with Gryffindor. Harry thought to himself,
"I WAS a bit distracted dodging a Dark Lord and an army of minions during our school days and did not expect to live to see my seventeenth birthday."
He decided to save that thought, as it might come in handy at some future time.
"I assure you, Miss Greengrass, I would have gladly spoken, had I any inkling such a relationship existed between uh…our families." Harry's mind whirled. He needed more information. He was at a serious disadvantage. What did Daphne want? What did the Greengrass family want? What did the goblins want?
Turning to Ragnak, Harry said, "I am completely in the dark, Mr. Chairman. I'm an orphan, and I had no parents, or grandparents, so I was never informed. This news is a complete surprise, I assure you. Do I need legal representation? Is the agreement in written form? Am I allowed to read it?"
Daphne Greengrass rolled her eyes. Then she clucked her tongue, "Tchk, Mr. Potter."
Then she sighed.
"Mr. Potter. If you're looking for a way out, just say so. The chairman already said agreements can be abrogated. Our parents were friends before we were born. They were living in troubled times, which have settled down quite a bit, thanks in great part to you, and were just trying to hedge our futures a bit. Walk away, and you and I are none the worse for wear."
"May I suggest," asked Ragnak, a rhetorical question, for he was the chairman of Gringott's, and muggle ministers listened when Ragnak spoke, "that Mr. Potter be given a chance to become informed, for which Gringott's will supply a copy of the agreement. Gringott's experts will be happy to assist with any technical questions. Then when all are comfortable, the families can take a decision. If that is sufficient for now, and Mr. Potter most certainly should not be making decisions in his current state of familiarity with the issues, Anvil can make Miss Greengrass comfortable just outside. I need one more word with Mr. Potter, then I am at your service, Miss Greengrass."
Daphne didn't know quite how to interpret Ragnak's behavior. Goblins, especially Gringott's goblins, could barely maintain civility when a witch or wizard visited to take theirgold out of theirvault. The Chairman of Gringott's was at her service?How interesting.
"Mr. Potter," Ragnak began, "Gringott's has a suggestion, for your convenience, and just as a sensible security precaution, that we ask you give serious consideration. If you could just accompany me next door?"
The goblin touched the wall paneling with a finger. The panel slid into a pocket in the wall and Ragnak led the way into a small room, albeit one finished in high goblin style. There were paintings of bank officers, going back, judging by their clothing, hundreds of years. There was a fireplace taking up most of one side. Harry guessed the two remaining walls also had concealed doors in their paneling.
So, Gringott's board room had a concealed room right next door? Harry filed that bit of information for future reference. He wondered, "How many wizards were aware of that? How many aurors?"
"You are Head Auror, Mr. Potter, and that alone would justify inviting you to avail yourself of this service. However, in addition, you now head both the Black and Potter families, and you have some idea, as of today, of your additional responsibilities. Financial aspects outlined in our earlier meeting make you a possible target for kidnapping as well. Therefore, Gringott's believes it is in our mutual self-interest if you would kindly floo to and from the bank via this fireplace. You are authorized unlimited and indefinite access, any time, day or night, from any fireplace connected to the floo network. You can be accompanied by one, and only one guest, who we would prefer have business at the bank, otherwise a security measure becomes a traffic management problem. The name is Gringott's One. This door opens with a touch, here. On the other side there is a short hallway that you can follow to the lobby, and you can proceed from there to wherever your business at Gringott's takes you. Now, to depart, just give the fireplace your destination."
"Great idea, thank you very much," Harry said. "Did I participate in funding this feature, which I will assume is one of the security upgrades you spoke of?"
Ragnak chuckled, a kind of raspy gurgling, accompanied by a goblin approximation of a smile.
"We look forward to continuing our partnership with you, Mr. Potter."
Harry understood that was all the answer he would get from the Chairman of Gringott's.
Ragnak offered his hand, and Harry took it. "Thank you, Mr. Chairman, for everything. I'll look forward to following up with the trust department."
"Excellent," said Ragnak, "and, if I may, the sooner the better? There are some decisions to be made that can be made only by you."
Harry nodded, dropped some floo powder as he said, "Ministry of Magic," and whooshed back to work.
"Anything I should know about?" Harry asked as he walked through the outer office.
"Nothing sir," said his assistant. "How was the meeting?"
The assistant knew nothing about the kind of business he was doing, only that Harry had been to Gringott's.
"Informative," said Harry, which had the twin virtues of being one hundred percent true and completely opaque.
"If you'll look here, sir," said the assistant, showing Harry his daily schedule, "the minister's meeting with the smaller law enforcement group is back to 4 after being moved to 4:30, Ministry Housekeeping quarterly advisory working group is at 5, the joint shared committee with DMLE and the Department That Remains Anonymous Orally and in Writing is at 6. I will stay until you're back in case you have notes and need them turned into memos. The draft agendas and anticipated participant lists are in the portfolio sitting on your desk blotter."
"Good," said Harry. "and I'll be sending some correspondence out. Do we have an owl handy? If there is an answer back by the time all the meetings finish up please hold it for me."
Harry went into his office, half-closing the door to the reception area. That was his compromise between preferring an open door policy and recognizing that, realistically, his staff couldn't work if they sensed his presence being projected out of his space into theirs. Harry had grown used to attention, starting with his first trip with Hagrid to Diagon Alley, but since his defeat of the Dark Lord at the Second Battle of Hogwarts, he had matured, filled out, and followed an auror's physical fitness regimen for several years. Thus, when he was present, people felt it. He didn't want to negatively affect productivity, so he worked at projecting calm.
Sitting down, Harry opened a drawer and began thinking cards, parchment, and envelopes. He kept a varied stock of such material in an organizer drawer, from informal notes with his monogram, to Ministry parchment with his full name, titles and honorifics. Harry took his time over protocol, because his position required it. For him, though, there was already the additional burden of knowing that anything related to him, signed by him, or of which he was the subject might be saved, squirreled away, even passed on to heirs. Some unreducible fraction of the wizard population seemed to be in perpetual motion, one-upping peers, 'discovering' links to illustrious wizards in one's genealogical ascendants, and seeking to forge connections to contemporary celebrities.
Witches had their own pecking orders, but they were much more informal than wizards' and seemed to value age above other considerations. Harry had met more than onegrande damepushing 200 who appeared to believe, more strongly by the day, that vast age conveyed vast, unquestioned authority before which every knee must bend. Wizards, on the other hand, kept collections of archived organizers, personal and business cards of all types, invitations to balls, weddings, country house weekends, and frou-frou that, sometimes, defied categorization. Thus, he was beginning to be very careful about just what he wrote, sent, and signed.
Harry selected a card, printed on the front in a busy, yet dignified, reasonably legible, goblin-cast typeface:
"Harry Potter
Order of Merlin First Class
Head Auror
Harry opened the card and wrote, "Miss Daphne Greengrass, Greengrass Manor," then he dropped down, as close as he could estimate, three lines, and began, "Dear Miss Greengrass, I hope I did not appear cold or distant today. The meeting was a surprise. The content was a delightful surprise. If possible, I would like to take you to lunch at a time convenient for you. You have known about this longer than I, and have much more knowledge and grasp of context, and I'll find your views most valuable as we decide what to do.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter"
Harry read over his note. No spelling errors, no missing words, a tentative invitation, warm tone, and completely non-committal. Perfect. Harry got up from his desk and handed the note card to his assistant.
"Please send this out by owl to the party in the address line. I'll be taking the portfolio you left and doing the meetings back to back."
The meetings, oddly enough, were interesting. The smaller law enforcement working group participants were nearly all interested in Harry's mystifying encounter with Ivy Fletcher. It made no sense, which made it interesting, because no one, including magical career criminals, goes to that much trouble without a motivation. That was the mystery: no discernible motivation, certainly nothing worth the risk of a Head Auror's reaction to seeing a paper cup morph into a wand. That could be fatal. Discussion went around the table, theories were proposed, dissected, and discarded. No conclusions were drawn, and the way forward was best described as "Keep an eye on it, let's wait and see."
Ministry Housekeeping quarterly working group was one of those that went through phases as members came and went. Some offices nominated underutilized officers who needed to apply themselves to something measurable lest they have nothing for subject matter when it was time for their supervisor to draft their evaluations. Other offices had permanent conflicts with the housekeeping function and delegated their most skilled wheelers and dealers, who attempted to dominate the committee through alliances, flattery, puffed out chests, and any other tactic they could think of, to gain an advantage for their sending office, to secure better trash pickup, hotter water in the bathrooms, lower costs for services, Ministry Housekeeping-provided tissues, and the gamut of every activity or commodity they thought Housekeeping could do better.
The current Ministry Housekeeping quarterly working group agreed on one thing: they should not leave a knut in the small account they were provided for refreshments. Thus Harry looked forward to the quarterly meetings, because the refreshment committee also unanimously agreed, that a 5 o'clock meeting, in order not to be a deadly peril to the membership of the working group, should not be entered into without providing butterbeer and assorted savories for all in attendance.
Harry had no notes from his final meeting, the joint DMLE and Department That Remains Anonymous Orally and in Writing shared committee, because notes could be taken, but were not allowed out of the room. Participants could raise issues, discuss them at length in the committee, disagree with policy, challenge regulations, and rest assured their views would be respected even if the consensus of the meeting went the other way. When the meeting adjourned, any notes made during the meeting were collected in a brown paper bag, put in the fireplace, and incinerated. No one was allowed to leave the room until the highest ranking member present personally checked the ashes and declared the notes to have been destroyed. No one seemed to remember the purpose of the joint shared meeting, or if they did, they didn't let on. Following each meeting, an announcement was sent to each member giving the time and place of the next meeting, and nothing more. Committee members were added, and dropped, via the announcements. As a general rule, if an officer was not invited for two calendar years, it was understood they were no longer a member of the joint committee.
Harry returned to his office a few minutes before seven. The outer office staff had all left, with the exception of his administrative assistant. True to his word, he was all set to turn meeting notes into memoranda, but Harry had no such notes from the afternoon meetings. He did have one open thread from the day, a response to the note sent earlier.
"No meeting notes, so you're done for the day. Thank you for everything."
Then, almost an afterthought, "Oh, anything back from the owl?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Potter," said his assistant, "and thanks for reminding me, or I would have completely forgotten."
He reached across his desk and grasped the corner of an envelope that lay under a paperweight. It was a big paperweight, a lump of natural copper, double the size of one of Harry's fists. The paperweight was moving a bit, up and down, left, then right, while the envelope buzzed against the desk top.
Pulling the envelope out from under the copper nugget, the assistant held it tightly by the corner while the envelope vibrated, audibly, putting out a bumblebee-like tone.
"Ouch!" said the envelope when it cleared the paperweight, which had to weigh a couple of kilos, at least. "Where is Potter? I insist I be delivered to the Head Auror NOW, or the Minister will be hearing about this!"
"Here you are, sir," said the assistant handing the envelope to Harry. "Completely forgot about it. Good thing you reminded me."
Harry didn't know what kind of communication he was handling, but as soon as he had taken it from his assistant's hand he told him, "Better clear out, I don't know if this thing is dangerous or not. It is my personal business, though, so I don't want you getting in the way if something comes flying off it."
As soon as the assistant was gone, Harry took the envelope to his office, looking at the monogram embossed on the back flap, and the tiny, beautiful script in the upper left corner of the front: Daphne Alexandra Greengrass, Greengrass Manor. He tossed the envelope down on his desk. It immediately unfolded itself and assumed the form of a conventional greeting card, roughly four by six inches, doubled, if fully open. Without waiting for any further action on Harry's part, the card spoke up.
"NO, you can't take me to lunch to talk around this and get me to do your homework. READ THE AGREEMENT. You have a copy. Even with the Head Auror's busy schedule it shouldn't take you more than a couple of days. The Greengrass family will be in touch. LOOK FOR MOTHER'S OWL.
"Note that I have restrained myself from shouting PRAT at the close of the previous sentence, however much I might need to do so right now.
Then the tone of voice changed, and something like chimes sounded in the background:
"Most sincerely,
Daphne Greengrass"
Harry liked the sound of the close. "What was that last part?" he asked, with hope in his voice, but the card did not respond.