Chap. 4: Gringotts, Privet Drive, Dobby, the Burrow, and forming a propaganda campaign.

Once Harry had finished at the ministry, he made his way to Gringotts with all his documentation and asked a teller who he was to see about the Black account. He was directed to an old goblin of French origin that had transferred to London and became the Black family's bank account manager, named DeBalzaq. There, with the manager, he was informed that the Blacks weren't as wealthy as they once were, and that was mainly due to Sirius' mother and father's wasteful spending, but they were rich in heirlooms and artifacts, especially jewelry, which had an estimated worth of over one million pounds. There were also three properties, with No. 12 being one of them. In coin, the Black account only had a total of one hundred and sixty thousand galleons left, which was about eight hundred thousand pounds sterling. That was about a third of what the Potter vault held, which he didn't know existed since he had only known about his trust vault. The Potter Vault held almost four hundred and ninety thousand galleons, which was equivalent to about two million, four hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling.

Harry had his trust account's coin moved to the Potter family vault, and he closed his trust vault. Next, he made a trip to the Black vault and retrieved the lord's ring. After that, he made his way to the Potter vault and withdrew four hundred galleons, which, when exchanged to the pound, yielded him one thousand nine hundred and twenty pounds, the greedy goblins. He also picked up his house's ring, and two new chequebooks they had waiting for him at DeBalzaq's office. Last, and before leaving, he had moved the Potter account over for DeBalzaq to handle, since the old goblin seemed to be ruthless with investments, and he had moved ten thousand galleons over into the Tonks account, finalizing Sirius' bequest.

As Harry was walking down the steps of Gringotts, he had to chortle out loud at the old goblin's name. Of course, it couldn't be a name like Bloodaxe or similar. No, it had to be a name like DeBalzaq, which, when he heard it the first time, he thought the goblin had said "The Ball Sack." That had caused him to sit there slack-jawed for a spell before he bit down on his tongue and shook the old goblin's hand. Well, he would call him "Ball Sack" from now on, when not in Gringotts nor around the goblins.

Harry's next stop was the solicitor, and he was looking to retain the services of Pius Thicknesse's brother, Odius, who DeBalzaq claimed was a ruthless master at law. He was going to file a suit against the House of Lestrange over Sirius' murder, and then disinherit Bellatrix. He would like to take about half of the Lestranges' wealth, if not all, and place a lien on their real property. Harry was going to go for the jugular with that family.

On Harry's way back to the Dursleys, via the Knight Bus, he was thinking about his last stop in Diagon Alley, which was at Twilfitt and Tattings for his ministry apparel. Their Wizengamot cap, which he was also measured for, resembled a large Canterbury Cap with rounded lobes. However, the plum color of the robes and cap was appalling, which was an Anglican clerical color. He would much rather wear the black of the ministry officials. Maybe, Harry thought, that would be one of the things that he could change.

The bus finally came to a stop at the roundabout at the mouth of Privet Drive, where Harry's chair scooted forward a good two feet, and that was with him hanging on for dear life.

Harry stepped off the bus, which instantly left, and he began making his way along the sidewalk. Here, he checked his watch, and it was now 4:00 PM. When he looked back up, he noticed that everyone was staring at him, which he almost ignored until Fred Polkiss flagged him down, who had been working in the front garden.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. Great day, isn't it?"

Harry, stunned, stopped, and walked over to the edge of the lawn. "Er, yes, it is, Mr. Polkiss."

Here, Polkiss looked around, swallowed, and then began to speak in a low voice. "Mr. Potter, we all saw something this morning that was quite a bit odd. You see, there was this old gentleman that showed up out of nowhere, and he was dressed in a woman's satin purple dressing gown sporting white feathers. He was also wearing white fuzzy house slippers and was carrying a conductor's baton.

"You don't say," Harry said with a smirk. There were some oddballs around these days, that was for sure.

"Yes, it was awful, and for a man of his age at that! Well, we noticed that you weren't at home today, but this same man made his way to your family's door! Petunia let the man in, who probably stayed inside a good fifteen minutes, before he stepped back outside on the lawn, and started waving that baton around as if he was directing an orchestra! Dudley sat on the stoop and watched him. The old man acted that way for a good fifteen minutes, and then, he left, strolling back down the sidewalk as if he was having a nice morning stroll.

"You don't know what that was about, do you?"

Now, Harry's smirk had disappeared, and he was now gaping at Polkiss' tale. Finally, he cleared his throat and began weaving a lie better than the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee could ever spin.

"Ah, yes. Well, you see, Mr. Polkiss, Dudley has become quite the prankster at Smeltings, and he seems to have finally been pranked back by one of his housemates. At least, that was what Aunt Petunia told me on the phone when I called her around twelve."

This obtained Mr. Polkiss' attention quite well.

"Evidently, one of his mates is rather wealthy, and he has a rather eccentric great-uncle in need of money. Dudley has mentioned the old man, and has said that he has a few screws loose, and likes his drink. A boozer, Dudley said.

"Well, Dudley's friend hired his great-uncle to put on a little show, and to have someone to bring him here to do it."

"Really?" Mr. Polkiss asked.

"Yes," Harry replied, "I'm afraid it is as simple as that. Aunt Petunia felt sorry for the old man, invited him inside, and gave him some tea. Next, she allowed him his performance so that he would be paid, and the man left."

Polkiss gave a harumph at this. "Sorry state, today's youth! Well, at least they can't blame this one on you, now can they lad?"

"Nope, afraid not! I've been gone since 7:00 AM! It's been good talking to you Mr. Polkiss."

Here, Harry smirked, waved, and turned to start making his way to No. 4. He was already readying himself for the upcoming row, but he was no longer intimidated by Vernon, since he had full use of, as Vernon called it, his "stick-thingy." A good Dangling Jinx might do Vernon some good, on top of a well-cast cheering charm.

The row was over as far as Harry was concerned, and it was now 5:30 in the afternoon. Petunia had calmed down, somewhat, over Harry's tall tale, and Dudley seemed rather proud of the spin. He would gladly take the blame for that, he had said.

Petunia had also explained that since Harry was emancipated, the blood wards had fallen, and that the headmaster had laid several new wards. What they were, she couldn't say, which made Harry scowl. He'd bet one was to monitor his comings and goings.

Vernon, though, had blown a gasket, and was still seething over the fact that he could not now lay the blame on Harry. No, this freakishness was caused by his own son, or, at least, that was what the neighbors would think by tomorrow.

When Vernon had started to launch himself out of his recliner toward Harry, the young wizard merely withdrew his wand from his sleeve, and gave it a casual wave, levitating the tea service, which he took back into the kitchen. Vernon had sat back down at that and clamped his mouth shut, which made Harry snigger. When no owl showed up carrying a warning, Vernon seethed even more.

Even worse, Dudley had coaxed Harry into showing his mother the spell that he had used to save them both from the "Dementoids." Harry simply intoned, "Expecto Patronum," and a large silvery stag appeared; a huge male red deer with a fourteen-point rack, and a heavy neck mane. It was the sign of the "King of the Woods," and it also symbolized nobility, virility, rebirth, and renewal. When Harry explained the symbology, Vernon was on the edge of apoplexy.

Finally, after using a scouring charm to wash the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, he told his aunt and Dudley that he was going to retire for the evening, and read the book that Petunia had given him, which caused Vernon to look at his wife suspiciously, though, he said nothing.

Once inside his room, Harry had a quick thought to call for Dobby. "Dobby!"

There was a small crack, and the eccentric house-elf appeared, that gave Harry a bow. "The Great Harry Potter bes calling Dobby, sir?"

Harry sighed at what the elf called him but soldiered on. "How's Kreacher fitting in, Dobby?"

"Kreacher bes a bad elf, Harry Potter, sir, but Dobby set him about some chores, and Dobby had Kreacher to help Filchy to scrub the toilets, sir."

Here, Harry gave out a loud chortle. "You did good, Dobby; really good!"

This, of course, made the elf swell up with pride, but it also made the elf's adoration show itself even more.

"Listen, Dobby," Harry said, "do you know where the Weasleys live down in Ottery St. Catchpole, at the Burrow?"

"Yes, of course, Master Harry Potter, sir."

"Well, then, can you come here in the morning, at eight o'clock, and apparate me to the Burrow?"

"Dobby wills be glads to, and would do anything for the Great Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry pursed his lips at the approbation. "Great, then! Well, I'll let you get back to it, but do keep an eye on Kreacher, and keep him away from the headmaster, yea?"

"Dobby wills be doing it, sir, and he'll make the hateful elf learn his place! Dobby will also be here in the morning, at eight, sir!" Here, Dobby gave Harry a large smile showing all his pointy teeth, before he snapped his fingers and apparated away.

Last, Harry quickly penned a note to Ron and told him that he would be visiting in the morning at eight o'clock. He gave the note to Hedwig, and opened the window, allowing her out to deliver it, and for her night's hunt. He just hoped that she didn't bring him back another dead rat as a present, unless it was Peter, of course, and that would be okay.

Harry and Dobby apparated just outside the wards at the Burrow, which made Harry scowl.

"Why not just apparate us inside, Dobby?" Harry wondered.

"That would be very rude, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby explained with a shake of his large head, "as wes elves do not do that unless wes be ordered to. That would be like kicking down the door, Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry thought about that for a moment, as he was heading toward the gate. "Wait a minute, you did that to me!"

Dobby looked embarrassed and started tugging on his ears while he began to mumble.

"You're not to punish yourself, Dobby," Harry said as the gate swung open, and he started up the dirt path to the porch. "Now, what are you mumbling, eh?"

"It was to save the Great Harry Potter's life!" Dobby exclaimed with a wail. "Dobby didn't mean to cause any offense!"

Here, Dobby began franticly looking around for a stick to start bashing himself in the head with.

"Dobby, stop!"

Dobby stopped mid-step, and that was when Harry noticed that Dobby acted just like Kreacher.

"Dobby, when I freed you, did you happen to bond with anybody else?"

Here, Dobby whimpered, and stared at his feet, causing Harry to kneel in front of him, and take the small elf by his skinny shoulders.

"Dobby may have, sir," Dobby said under his breath.

"Who, Dobby?"

"The Great Harry Potter mustn't be mad at Dobby, because Dobby be binding himself to the Great Harry Potter, sir."

"But I thought you wanted to be free, Dobby?"

Here, Dobby wailed out and blew his nose on his towel. "Dobby is freer than he has ever been, Harry Potter, sir, and is even paid by Headmaster Dumbles, but Dobby would have died if he hadn't bonded to a magical, sir. We share yous wizards' magic, and it keeps us alive. That is why poor Winky is wasting away, Harry Potter, sir."

Harry thought about this for a moment and smirked. What a sly little elf Dobby was, he thought.

"All right, Dobby. I'll call you when I'm ready to leave if that's okay?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby exclaimed, and he cheered right up. "Anything that the Great Harry Potter wants, just ask!"

"You can go now, Dobby, and I'll call you later on."

"Yes, Master Harry," Dobby said, and with a snap of his fingers, he disapparated.

"Did I just hear that right?" Ron said, startling Harry. "He tricked the 'Great Harry Potter' into bonding with him?"

When Harry looked around, there was Ron, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, but he had a huge grin upon his face. However, Hermione was also there, and she had a scowl on her that would scare a normal person, but Harry wasn't normal, and he now accepted that.

"Hello, you two!"

Harry was sitting at the kitchen table inside the Burrow with Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. It took forever to calm Hermione down about him owning two elves, and he had already explained the reading of Sirius' Will by the minister and his emancipation. He explained that the wipeout clause was the reason behind his emancipation, and that the will was magically binding. He was now Lord Black, and he showed them the ring.

He also explained that he had taken the Potters' seat on the Wizengamot as well, and that he could because he was now the last male heir of both lines, which allowed for a minimum age of sixteen, just after passing one's OWLS. He then explained that he couldn't sit until he turned sixteen on July 31st.

Finally, Harry looked at everyone around the table, where he swallowed, and cringed. "I'm also involved in a betrothal contract, which is unbreakable."

"WHAT!" Hermione roared. "That's, that's, well, so backward, and, well, well, it's so Victorian!"

Ginny looked like someone had doused her with a bucket of ice water, and Molly scowled while muttering something under her breath.

"By the way," Harry said, "I'm sorry for using your name, Ginny, when this came up, as I told Gareth that I had started seeing you to see what he thought about the contract and gauge how he reacted to me and my beliefs. Again, I'm sorry."

Ginny didn't look too pleased with what Harry said, at all.

"It's because Sirius made me his heir," Harry quickly explained, "and he was under the contract, which, I bet, he didn't know existed. It was made by his grandfather, Arcturus."

"Who's the bird, mate?" Ron inquired with a comical look upon his face.

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, and swatted him hard on the shoulder, making the redhead flinch.

"Well, you see, the contract was originally between Sirius and Alcmene Greengrass," Harry said before Molly gasped.

"Alcmene just passed away the other day, the poor woman," Molly explained, causing Hermione, Ron, and Ginny to stare at her in horror. "She was Gareth Greengrass's daughter, and he and Meridith's only child. Gareth is friends with Arthur, he's an unspeakable, and he sits on the Wizengamot, but Arthur had heard that he was going to now step down, and let his younger brother have it. I'll bet her illness was why."

"And just who is Gareth's brother," Ginny asked, "and who is the heiress?"

Here, Harry stared at the table, winced, and cleared his throat. "Cyrus Greengrass is the brother, and the heiress is Daphne Greengrass."

"WHAT!" Ron yelled. "She's a bloody Slytherin, she is, her and her sister!"

"Ron, that's enough!" Molly growled. "Harry, when will you be seeing the family, and when will you bring her here to meet us?"

Harry noticed Ron still scowling, while Hermione had a thoughtful look about her.

"I, er, have to write Cyrus, Mrs. Weasley, and set a date to visit the family."

At this, Ginny's chair screeched back, and she fled the kitchen in high dudgeon.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

When Ron started to reply, Hermione cut him off. "Nothing, Harry. It's just that I think that Ginny doesn't like Daphne very much, though Daphne has never said anything to her that I know of. Well, Daphne hasn't really said anything to any of us, has she, and you know what they call her."

"What do they call her?" Harry wondered as he looked around at everyone at the table.

"The Ice Queen, mate," Ron said with a snort. "Seamus said that she froze his bits with a hex when he tried to ask her out. He said that she was stuck-up, and a really cold-hearted bird. And, she's still a bloody Slytherin, mate!"

"Ronald!" Both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione loudly scolded him.

"I don't put much stock in Seamus' explanation of events," Harry blandly replied, "since I know how he acts around witches."

Hermione snorted at this and smirked with a nod.

"There's something else, as well," Harry said with a sort of distant voice.

"What is it, Harry, dear?" Molly asked.

"It's about my scar," Harry said, as he pointed to it with a quick motion of his hand. "Mr. Greengrass, or Gareth, that is, examined it after he found out that I had a connection to You-Know-Who.

"He said that it's cursed and that it can be healed, but I'll have to travel stateside for it, to New Orleans by the first of November."

"What!" Both Hermione and Ron exclaimed.

"It's nothing," Harry quickly said, "just for a few days, and I'll be rid of it and be back to good health again!" He wasn't about to tell them that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts and that he would sit his NEWTs at the ministry later on. He was already planning on hiring a tutor for the afternoons or evenings.

"Gareth Greengrass will be going with me, where we'll be staying for a few days, and taking an international portkey back."

"I'll ask Arthur what he knows about this before you go, Harry," Molly said while trying to mollify him. "That trip will be very expensive."

"As long as I can be rid of this scar," Harry replied, "and my connection to You-Know-Who, it will be well worth the gold to do it."

"Why are you now calling him You-Know-Who, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Scrimgeour thinks that he will put a taboo on his name, and will send Death Eaters to anyone that says it."

"Minister Scrimgeour, Harry," Hermione corrected, making Harry scowl. "You seem to be willing to work with him as well."

"He and I have made each other a lot of promises, and formed a pact of a sort, in order to defeat You-Know-Who. He's willing to do what I ask, and I'm willing to help legislation pass to do it."

"You're too young to be taking on this responsibility, Harry," Molly complained. "Sixteen, and on the Wizengamot! They'll have you fighting the Death Eaters next, and I'll not allow it!"

What Molly didn't know wouldn't hurt her, Harry thought. Neither did what Ron and Hermione now know hurt them.

Harry was lying back on his bed at No. 4 and was reading the SOE Syllabus section on propaganda. That was what he was going to head, and he was going to destroy the reputations of every Death Eater if he could. He wanted it so that they couldn't walk down the street without being attacked by a mob.

He was going to invest in a wide-format muggle printer and PC, as well as a wide-format copier, and start a small gossip rag, which he would give away free in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade.

He was now looking for a place to rent, and for employees. Here, he wanted the biggest gossip queens imaginable, and he had several in mind.

Plus, what dirt they couldn't dig up, he would fabricate it, and use innuendo and anonymous sources to verify. It would cause quite the scandal in Wizarding Britain, he thought, as he had begun to read the section on black propaganda, and how to implement it.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!