Fake It Till You Make It
The Complete Histories of Lord Hadrian James Potter-Peverell-Black of Gryffindor-Slytherin and Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley-Prewett-Dumbledore of Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw
Ancient House Gringotts Accounts
1993 was proving to be a year of extremes for the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. On the one hand, the knowledge that a homicidal maniac who was once the right hand of You-Know-Who was on the loose had cast a significant pall over the day-to-day lives of the wizards and witches up and down the country, and this was not helped in any way by the presence of Dementors on the school grounds of Hogwarts itself.
On the other hand...
Hermione stifled a yawn as she nibbled on a slice of toast from behind her Arithmancy textbook. With her overstuffed schedule this year, she was not making it down to breakfast quite as early as she had the past two, and already the hall was full of the low buzz of students meeting and greeting their friends and preparing to start their day. It was annoying, losing those precious minutes when she could arrange herself for the day in peace, when only the likes of Padma Patil and Cedric Diggory were at their respective tables.
It didn't help that it was almost time for that, as the hall began to hum with the energy of students awaiting for this morning's circus. Honestly, if she wasn't so fond of them she would have lost it weeks ago at the start of term. And sure enough, at nine o'clock precisely, a trumpet blared from nowhere.
Hermione slunk slightly further down beneath her book.
"Wizards and Witches, please make way for the Great and Wonderful Lord Harry Potter and his Lord Weezy-Prewett!"
A not insignificant number of students from three of the four tables let out an ironic cheer and applause, and Dobby - dressed in a red-and-green toga, a garishly purple wizard's hat with shooting stars sparking out the top of it in random bursts, and a half dozen socks in six different shades of orange – puffed with pride.
"Such wonderful friends of Lord Potter," he followed, leading to more hoots from the students. Hermione glanced at the High Table – Professor McGonnagal looked just about ready to interject, as she did most mornings, while the Headmaster looked as genial as he had every since this madness had begun at the beginning of the year.
Professor Snape had not been seen at breakfast since the third day of term, his customary spot between Professors Sinistra and Babbling as conspicuously empty as a missing tooth.
A moment later, Harry and Ron came into view, wearing their school robes – in a cut and style that had not been in fashion since the 1600s. While the robes themselves were not too dissimilar to what the student body wore even if a bit more, well, frilly (although to Hermione's chagrin, a few boys here and there had adopted a similar look, though whether in actual support or to take the piss was anyone's guess) their modern ties had been replaced with a pair of absolutely ridiculous ruffs that would have put Lockhart to shame. Harry's was red and green, Ron's blue and yellow. That both transfigured back into their more standard attire when they crossed into a classroom was an admittedly clever bit of magic the boys had picked up, and Hermione had rationalized to herself that as long as these antics led to improved academic performance, she would be willing to bear it. Even if their shoes, which looked like something out of a children's Christmas storybook, were a bit much, even for the standard they were now setting.
For now though, the boys were strutting down the center of the hall, grins pasted on their faces as they waved to a student and/or supporter and pausing to enjoy Malfoy's daily look of fury at seeing Dobby dancing about until they finally arrived at the far end of the Gryffindor table.
"Ah, Miss Granger, of the Newblood House of Granger," Ron began with a flourish. "Would it please you if we were to break our fast with you... ah,"
"With your company and magic," Harry supplied with just the briefest hiccup. Ron gave him a grateful glance, before schooling his face back into an overly-pompous posture.
Hermione did not look up from her book. She did not. She did nonetheless scoot over slightly and gesture to the spot next to her.
"Thank you, my Lady Witch," Harry continued, taking his place next to her as Ron sat on her other side. "Lady Brown of the House of Brown, Lady Patil of the Gryffindor Branch of House Patil, a pleasure to partake in the presence of your selves and magics as well."
Thankfully, with "introductions" out of the way, Hermione could rely on the conversation being less contrived from here on out... mostly. Still, it made her oddly prickly when Lavender giggled.
"Good morning, Lord Potter," she replied back, mouth curving up into a bright smile as she put down her fork and dabbed daintily at her lips. "Ready for Creatures?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, my ah, ally, Mr. Hagrid has informed me that we'll be in for a real treat today."
"Oh yes, Lord Potter?" Ron leaned forward to join the conversation while serving himself a kipper. "What news from our ally on the Hogwarts grounds, then?"
Hermione did give one ear to the conversation. If their all-friend- had given Harry advanced notice of what they were going to cover this week, it behooved her to know.
"Unicorns," Harry exclaimed. Lavender and Parvati both squeaked in pleased shock. Harry's grin widened. "I may have informed my ally that a dear friend of mine was celebrating her birthday this week, and he mentioned a mare and foal who were ready to be introduced to the local wizarding community."
"Lord Potter, you're the best!" Lavender exclaimed, fluttering her hands. "Seriously, Harry – thanks!"
Before Harry could proclaim his desire in always seeking the best of friendships with fair maidens from allied houses, the morning's swarm of owls came flying into the Great Hall, unleashing a torrent of packages and post among the students. This was at least something that had always been a part of her Hogwarts' breakfasts, and so despite the noise it did not bother Hermione at all.
Then, Hedwig showed up. A giant wad of creme-coloured envelopes clutched between both her talons. She landed next to Harry and gave an annoyed hoot, before helping herself to his bacon.
Harry untied the post. "Thank you, High Owl Hedwig of the House of Potter-Peverell. Please feel free to decamp for the remainder of the day, I shall request Chief Steward Free Elf Dobby see to your water, and I myself will attend to you after my tutorings with Lady McGonagall this afternoon."
Hermione's ears prickled at that. She still wasn't quite sure what the precise arrangement between Harry and Dobby was, and she was a little afraid to ask. She had her suspicions that Dobby liked the term Free Elf more than anything those words were supposed to actually mean, and she knew that Harry certainly didn't mistreat Dobby, but the whole thing had her a little off-kilter nonetheless. Enough that she had hesitated bringing back up S.P.E.W. until things returned to a more even keel.
Which, with four letters addressed to Ron and Harry apiece, all with the unmistakable seal of Gringotts Bank embossed on the front, did not look to be happening anytime in the near future.
"I say, Lord Potter – it appears our friends in the Goblin Nation have finally finished their studies into our inheritance rituals." Ron said airily, as if receiving four letters from Gringotts was something he was accustomed to dealing with on a daily basis. "I did wonder what our Ancient Pureblood Ancestry Inheritance Ritual would turn up."
Harry nodded, though his eyes were focused on his own envelopes as he spread them out before him. "Yes, I admit I did too. Neither of us appear to have come into the Headship of House Merlin, shame that." He sounded mildly annoyed at that as if he had misplaced his quill. Hermione glanced over... and choked.
"Oh, surely not," she said, her mind whirring at what her eyes were seeing. For almost six weeks now, she had been balancing between keeping a cool nonchalance about the every expanding antics of her two best friends, and secretly trying to figure out how they were actually getting away with it.
Lord Harry James Potter-Peverell of House Potter
Lord Harry James Potter-Peverell of House Peverell
Lord Harry James Potter-Peverell of House Gryffindor
Lord Harry James Potter-Peverell of House Slytherin
She glanced over to her right.
Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley-Prewett of House Weasley
Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley-Prewett of House Prewett
Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley-Prewett of House Hufflepuff
Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley-Prewett of House Ravenclaw
"Oh this is too much," Hermione hissed, finally putting down her Arithmancy book as a lost cause. "For the I don't know how many times, there are no Lords in the Wizarding World, there are no Ancient Houses and Magical Inheritance Rituals and you both are not the long lost descendants of two of the Hogwarts Houses, each!"
Some people may now have been staring at them. Hermione felt her ears turn pink.
"How would you know," Lavender snarked. "Have you ever taken a Gringott's Ancient Pureblood Ancestry Inheritance Ritual?"
"Well no. Because they don't exist!"
"It's a closely guarded secret," Ron interjected.
"Until the enchantments on these letters activated, we couldn't even talk about it," Harry supplied.
Not ten past nine and Hermione already had a headache for the day.
"Even if there is- which there isn't," Hermione added as Lavender threatened to burst out in a gloating smirk. "Ron, your father is still alive! And you have five older brothers. How could you inherit the Lordships of Weasley, Prewett, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, which don't exist, before them?"
Ron shook his head pityingly. "Ancient Pureblood Ancestry Inheritance Ritual Magic have their own mysterious laws," he intoned solemnly.
Harry nodded. "I'm afraid we can't say more than that, Hermione. It's part of our obligations to the Magic of the Ancient Pureblood Ancestry Inheritance Ritual." He paused for a minute. "Though perhaps there's more about it in Gringotts, A History. I'll have a look for you."
Hermione gritted her teeth. "There is no such book as Gringotts, A History."
"Not publicly available," Harry agreed.
Lavender reached out and patted Harry's hand. "Go on Harry, what do the letters say?"
Harry pulled out a silver letter opener that had apparently been conveniently in his front pocket. "Well, I suppose we better take a look. Best not to keep the Goblins waiting. My Account Manager...ah, Warclan Leader Griphook of the Riptooth Clan, will not be amused after working so diligently on my behalf if I didn't even read the letters."
"Good 'ole Grippy," Ron added, eyes darting across the page of parchment he had pulled from the first letter. "We really should have him over for tea sometime. Once the manors are restored, perhaps."
Harry nodded. "May his Gold multiply and his enemies be divided," Harry said with a low grunt, pounding his chest once. Ron added a sound to the end of Harry's proclamation that sounded like a sneeze and a belch before pounding his chest once as well.
Neville, who had just sat down next to Parvati and thus lacked the context of the conversation, stared at them in shock. "Was that Gobbledegook?"
Ron nodded slightly, lips pursed, his eyes never leaving his parchment. "Yes, being a Lord isn't all Ancient Pureblood Ancestry Inheritance Rituals and Family Magics and Traditions, I'm afraid. Lots to be learning if one is to be getting on."
Before Hermione could respond to both these outlandish claims and the casual mockery of an entire foreign species and culture that had long been oppressed by the very wizards Harry and Ron were now mimicking, Harry spoke once more.
"Oh, I say, I've inherited the Ancestral Peverell vault. Splendid."
"Yes, I've got Prewett and Hufflepuff so far," Ron commented while opening up the letter addressed to Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley-Prewett of House Ravenclaw. "Spiffing."
"Cor! That's unbelievable!" Neville exclaimed, though to Hermione's chagrin it was not said in the tone of the skeptic, but the suckered.
She was about to say so when Harry put his letter down, picking up the next.
Lord Potter-Black,
I am pleased to announce that per the conclusion of your meeting at Gringotts on the 31st of July, we can now confirm your ownership of Vault 1031 "Peverell Family Vault" and the assorted contents therein. Please let Gringotts know if any further services can be provided with regards to the account. All fees have at this time been paid in full.
Regards,
Warclan Leader Griphook of the Riptooth Clan, Account Manager
Her brain blanked. This wasn't real. None of this was real. It defied possibility. And yet, it sat before her, as plain as the half eaten egg on her plate.
Ron's sigh brought reality crashing back down around her.
"Oh, yes, I suppose it's alright," he was saying to an astonished and enthralled group that now also included Dean Thomas, Katie Bell, and two first years who in the past weeks seemed to be trying to out-do each other being Harry's number one fan, Dennis Creevey and Romilda Vane. "Of course, we won't be able to actually access the treasures until we hit our majority per ancient Goblin Bankvault Law, but it does bring comfort to know it's there and that all the t's have been crossed to restore these Ancient and Noble families."
"How much treasure," Neville blurted out, though it was clear all the others were chomping at the bit to ask the same question.
Harry and Ron shared a look.
"I'm sorry, Nev," Harry replied after a moment, looking a little embarrassed. "It's not the sort of thing we're comfortable talking about, especially in such a public place," he gestured ever-so-slightly towards the fourth table, where not a few students were not-so-subtly trying to make out what was going on among the younger year Gryffindors, their expressions less than pleasant.
The crowd looked abashed.
"Sorry, was just curious," Neville mumbled.
"It's alright, Nev," Ron said, giving the boy a comforting smile. "House Longbottom has been a stout ally of both Houses Potter-Peverell and Weasley-Prewett; do not think you cause any offense when you speak your mind."
Neville looked as proud as Dobby in that moment. It dawned, truly dawned on Hermione, with the sort of inspiration previously known only to the likes of Newton and Archimedes, just how out-of-control this whole stunt had gone.
"I think that's enough of this, right now," she declared, packing her things.
"Quite right," Harry agreed with obvious joviality. "More learning and magics await us." He stuffed the letters and the silver knife back into his pockets and stood up, Ron and the others quickly following suit. He held out an arm. "Miss Granger, if I could escort you to class?"
Oh... well alright, just this once.
"Harry, what about me?" Lavender sounded as slighted and hurt as if someone had slipped her a Balding Draft.
"Never worry, Miss Brown, I would never dream of leaving you out in the cold," he proffered his other arm, which Lavender happily took with a smug look at Hermione. Honestly. Hermione rolled her eyes, and gripped Harry's arm a little tighter.
"If I may," Ron offered to Parvati, and the gang of Gryffindors made their way out of the Great Hall towards the Gamekeeper's hut at the bottom of the hill.
Fred and George Weasley watched the younger students leave with a look of astonished wonder.
"That was the biggest shovel of dragon dung those two have served since... well since yesterday," George said, clearly impressed.
"How long do you think they can keep it going?"
"Don't know, but I look forward to finding out. Oi – Angie! As err, the senior cadet branch of House Weasley-Prewett, would you care to-"
"Sod off, George."
Later that day:
Harry made his way up to the Hogwart's Owlery, a stash of letters in one hand and a handful of owl treats in the other. He bee-lined to Hedwig, the snowy owl peering down at him from atop her perch by a large stone window looking out over the Forbidden Forrest.
"Hi, Girl. Excellent job today. Perfect timing."
Hedwig gave a hoot that conveyed the acknowledgment of his thanks and a slight disdain that there was any chance that she would perform any way less than perfect.
He showed her the treats, and she swooped down and landed next to him, taking the first treat from his hand a moment later. He let her indulge herself for a minute.
"I need you to redeliver these tomorrow," he said, showing her the handful of letters. I know the envelopes are the same but the letters are different, so same time as today if you don't mind. Harry then closed the old Gringotts envelopes around the new letters and cast the sealing spells. He looked around, a slight frown on his face as he did so. He didn't expect anyone to come up to the owlry this late in the afternoon, and especially not to poke around near his owl... but you never could tell for sure.
"If I make the letters invisible, will you still be able to get them?" He asked Hedwig. She hooted. Harry shrugged – if this didn't work, it wasn't like anyone else was expecting them to get more letters tomorrow.
Slowly, and with great deliberation, Harry cast a fifth-year spell on the letters, causing them to blend in with the stone until they were practically invisible. The Disillusionment Spell wasn't perfect invisibility, and his casting wasn't quite perfect yet, but it should be good enough for now. It was one of a dozen 'high-priority' spells he had been working to get ahead on, for when he and Ron needed to be able to show off their Ancient Pureblood Ancestral Training Magics. In this case, it was nice that it was the perfect tool for the job.
"See you tomorrow then," he finished cheerily to Hedwig before leaving for the day. All in all, today had gone exceedingly well; it was nice now that things were taking a life of their own, people filling in the blanks in their own imaginationsof what they wanted to see without them having to come up with every single step. After the Chamber of Secrets rumors last year, it was a nice turnabout.
Of course, now they needed to fill the Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Weasley, Prewett, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw vaults with more than three sickles and a chocolate frog card apiece. The goblins hadn't given a whit how many underground stone vaults Harry had been willing to purchase, nor what he'd wanted to name them nor put into them, and if Harry wanted to send himself correspondence written by himself in Gringotts envelopes they could not have cared any less. But at some point, people with more curiosity and clout than good ole Neville Longbottom might come asking questions, and they'd have to have some sort of acceptable answer ready to go.
Harry grinned. They'd think of something.