Chapter 2: Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon
Thursday 4th November 1981.
The soft breathing and occasional muttering were music to his ears. All the planning and plotting had not been in vain. Glancing beside himself, he drank in the imitation of his wife. As talented as Rohan had been, he had been unable to fully capture all that made Lily Potter so great. But there was enough.
Her fiery hair glowed in the shimmering lights from the nearby lamp and an unbreakable will shone forth in her beautiful emerald eyes. They were locked, unmovable, on the sleeping form of their only son, just below their frame in the crib he'd built for the boy with his own two hands.
Well, his own hands, Padfoot's interference and several bottles of Firewhiskey. Lily had been furious when she had come home, heavily pregnant to the chaos of timber and tools scattered around the living room. Padfoot had fled quickly upon seeing her face, but the look she directed his way only made James love her even more.
That had been only days before Dumbledore had told them of the danger, the prophecy and suggested they move to Godric's Hollow, where he had prepared the perfect safehouse. He should never have trusted that stupid old codger. Not with his family. The Manor in which they now stood, where he had been raised, had wards of such strength and age that they would rival Hogwarts. And yet he'd taken the old man's word that he knew better. Thinking about it now James was certain there had been something in that tea to make them agree. He might have been stupid enough to agree if Dumbledore had sold it in the right way, but Lily would never have abandoned the sure safety of the Manor.
Mipsy's sudden snores broke his reminiscing. The young elf had only just become of age to help around the house when he had started building the crib. She was to be Harry's personal elf, to help him with whatever he needed, keep him in line when he couldn't be there himself, and help to teach him his place in the world. She would still get to be that for the boy, but now it fell to her and the others to raise him entirely.
A portrait cannot truly cry, as they are not truly alive. Instead, the canvas on which James' eyes were rendered seemed to weep a clear oily substance. The only thing he could now give out into the real world were these cold imitations of real grief.
James would never truly teach his boy to ride a broom. How to talk to girls. The best pranks to pull on his teachers. He could pass his knowledge, but it would never be the same. He fell to his knees as the reality of his mistakes finally overwhelmed him. Hard sobs wracked his body as Lily's arms snaked around him and pulled him tight.
"It is not your fault, my love. Voldemort would not be stopped. And I'm sure that Albus thought he was doing the right thing."
James quaked in her grasp as all the perceived failings weighed upon him. His son was alone in the world. "I failed him, Lils. He deserved better than this."
"Get over yourself, Potter."
James sniffed and looked up in disbelief at his wife, a broad smile splitting her face.
"What?" he asked in confusion.
"Our son needs us to be strong for him. He needs our love and our guidance, not our pity and regret. So," her grin grew even wider as he became lost in her eyes, "get over yourself."
He reached his hand behind her head, tangling it in her hair and pulling her down. Their lips were millimetres apart when a shrill cry broke through their moment. Harry's cries solidified the boost his wife had given him. Harry would always come first now. He was their only responsibility.
Mipsy was quickly roused by the hearty cries of the young child. She shot out of the small chair by the crib and was checking over Harry with her magic, trying to find the cause of his discomfort.
"Mipsy, he's hungry," Lily called, catching the elf's attention. "Trust me, that cry is hunger."
The elf simply bowed and popped away returning after a moment with a bottle and gently picking the boy from his crib and settling back into her chair as he drank. James felt the remorse and regret tickling at the back of his throat at the scene below him. Just another thing he'd never again be able to do for his boy.
"Stop it, James." Lily chided him again as he held him close. "He'll be grown before you know it and we'll wonder where the time went. Stop worrying about the past and focus on Harry's future.
ϟ
Griphook grinned to himself as he held the small envelope in his claw. He had sent the Director's message off to the head Potter elf, suggesting that the elves secure and lockdown all the Potter properties to protect them against whoever might come searching.
The small wax seal on the rear of the letter proved it had been received by the correct party. It was the Potter seal, but of a size that would only comfortably rest on a house-elf's finger. And he could feel the natural magic the wax was steeped in. There was no mistaking its source. Ripping into the parchment, he unfolded the letter and spread it on his small cubicles desk.
Respected Banker Griphook,
We thank you for your concerns regarding the Potter holdings in these darkened times. Rest assured, the properties in question have been sealed since our Master's command many weeks ago now.
The elves have completed a thorough assessment of the possessions and properties of our Masters and found all to be in its proper place.
Our Master's commands that you continue to manage the affairs of the estate until such time as, a suitable Heir comes forward, has never been countermanded. As such, we would greatly appreciate you continuing in this regard.
Should you have further questions, please contact me in the same manner.
Regards, Pops.
Head House Elf of the House of Potter.
Griphook smiled again. Though the letter was fairly vague, it had contained a few pieces of information that he was sure the elf had not meant to convey. The boy lived, and the elf knew exactly where he was. It was only a small comma that assured him of this hunch, but it did not fit in its place in a piece of official correspondence from the Head elf of a greater House.
Poor Pops was beginning to show his age, as he would normally have completely rewritten the letter to erase such a mistake. Such knowledge would help the Nation stand ready to assist the boy at the proper time for the correct price.
But for the moment he would sit on this little sliver of information. He had done as his Lord commanded. He had not asked to see the correspondence and as such Griphook would have time to verify his hunch. Perhaps he could convince the elf to part with the information willingly. But it mattered not. The young goblin had his methods, and he would get what he needed eventually.
ϟ
Monday 8th November 1981.
Stupid, shrivelled, wrinkly little mongrels. We'll see who has the last laugh after today.
Dumbledore stood in the Gringotts atrium with a full half of the Wizengamot behind him. They had seen the wisdom of his actions. An estate as broad and strong as the Potter's could not be left to the greedy administration of the goblins. Only a great wizard like himself would be able to properly care for its needs and help it to grow. And if it meant he could utilize the 'holdings' of the said estate while it grew, who would know. Nobody would have access beside himself.
Of course, he'd had to make certain concessions to some of the members to garner their support. Some wanted money, some support on a doomed bill which he could offer without actually making any difference. He had become quite good at maintaining the status quo. Everyone thought that he was on their side, and no-one ever questioned him when their attempts at change fell in a heap at their feet. Surely it was never the fault of the Chief Warlock. Still, others had wanted favours. All would be called in eventually. But as with the support, Albus had long ago mastered the ability to slip free of his obligations, without it seeming that was what he was doing.
"Mister Dumbledore."
Albus seethed internally. He knew the little shits were doing it now to anger him. "Yes?"
"The conference room is through here. If your party would like to join us."
Without waiting for a reply, the goblin shot off down a side corridor and the wizards were hard-pressed to keep up without breaking into a jog. The goblins were trying to unsettle them before the meeting. A simple manipulation tactic, that Albus himself had employed many times in the past. Clearly, these rodents had no idea who they were messing with.
As the goblin came to an abrupt halt in front of a pair of floor-to-ceiling doors etched in gold, the now panting wizards finally fell in behind him. "Enter."
The doors swung inward and the small goblin disappeared, leaving the assembled to enter and join the arrayed goblins already seated inside. They had clearly been sitting comfortably for some time, and Albus fumed silently at the attempts to throw him off his game.
"Good sirs," Ragnok addressed the new group as they all sat, "Mister Dumbledore." He added, nodding purposefully at the aged warlock.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed at the malicious grin on the goblin leaders face.
"My good lord Ragnok," began another of Albus' group, "we're here hoping we can resolve this issue we seem to be having with the poor Potters last wishes."
"My good Lord Nott, there is no issue with the Potters or their wishes. They are quite clear and quite plain." Ragnok replied, eyeing the upstart wizard angrily.
"Quite," Dumbledore added, "but it is the ruling of the Ministry that something must be done regardless. It is not wise to ignore a problem until it becomes too big to clean up."
Dumbledore smiled, his time had come now and he would have these little bastards learn their place once again. They only ran this institution due to the kindness of wizards after they were thrown down and beaten the last time. A small concession to appease their retreat from their benevolent vanquishers.
"You still seem to be bumbling about under the assumption you have the ability to pass laws that matter in some way to the Nation, Mister Dumbledore." The twinkle that had been in the old man's eye quickly vanished. "Pass all the laws you want, it won't get you what you desire."
The grins on the goblins were now bordering on hysterical as the gathered wizards began to chatter and moan to one another at the gall of these creatures to deny them their rights.
"Director, we are the rightful law of this magical world. All are subject to its reach, as clearly noted in our treaty." The foolish young Undersecretary Fudge called, a smug smile on his face as he believed he had put the goblins back in their place.
"Perhaps, young fool, you need to read the treaty again." Ragnok glared, "I, however, know it very well. Seeing as my father signed it when you lot were tired of fighting any longer."
Dumbledore was truly struggling to keep his anger in check. These creatures were beyond the pale if they thought they could get away with talking to him like this.
"We seem to be veering off the topic here," he corrected, trying to get things back where he wanted them. Where he could control them.
"Again, you labour under false pretences, Mister Dumbledore. The treaty in question is the heart of the matter. Did any of you think to read it carefully before calling this meeting?" Ragnok met the eyes of every member in the chamber all of whom looked away bashfully apart from Albus himself. He would not show such weakness in front of his lessers. "As I said, I know the treaty by heart. I have studied it long and hard, long before I took the seat of Director of the Nation. You would all do well to familiarise yourselves with it once more.
"According to the articles of the treaty of 1865, the matters of inheritance law fall solely under the auspices of Gringotts Bank. Furthermore, they also categorically affirm that the running of said Bank shall remain the castigation of the Goblin Nation for their efforts in rebellion.
"Now I assume that you learned men understand the wording of the treaty just fine, but I think it should be pointed out to some of our younger members. That is to say that you, the wizards, decided to gift the goblins the task of managing your bank as punishment for our actions in the rebellion. However, the wording of the treaty leaves no clause under which we can be removed from the management of said affairs. Therefore, you put your defeated foes in charge of all your money.
"You were then stupid enough to leave the assessment and distribution of all inheritance and estate management to the above-mentioned bank. So, in short, challenge us on the Potter Estate. You are correct that you write the laws of the magical world. But by the words of the existing treaty, if we were to acquiesce to your wishes, it would require the reassessment of every single inheritance that has ever been our duty to oversee."
Several of the gathered wizards paled considerably at his last words. Money had long been passed, probably under this very table, to ensure the proper wizard was always the one to receive his 'due' from a will. If the goblins were to thoroughly reassess even half of the wills they'd been 'forced' to oversee, the entire balance of power in their world would change overnight.
"As it stands, there is an individual listed as the inheritor of the entire Potter Estate. That person is alive and well and under the age of majority to receive said Estate. If any were to attempt to cheat that individual out of said inheritance, the members of the Nation would be most," Ragnok stared steely-eyed directly at Dumbledore, "displeased."
Though his face showed none of the shock he was feeling, Dumbledore began to see the full extent of the goblins threats. If he were to push matters, none of his political goodwill would be enough to let him survive the feeding frenzy that would go down in the papers the next day.
"And just to be absolutely clear, we have just finished an entire audit of the Potter Estate, as per the request of the Will. We know where every Knut, spoon and sock are. Should anything listed under it become misplaced, we will close the doors to this building until such time as the items are returned and the one responsible hands themselves over for judgement under the terms of our lovely treaty. Is that understood?"
Every wizard in the room shifted uncomfortably as Ragnok again made eye contact with every one of them. Each nodded their head silently as he passed from one to the next. The other goblins in the room were grinning openly as the truth of their victory became evident to the fools who had believed they had won the last war between their peoples, but who had been too stupid to read and understand all the terms of the documents they were signing.
Ragnok fixed his gaze one last time on Albus, an enormous grin spread from ear to ear "Then, you are dismissed."