CHAPTER 7: BREAKFAST BANTER
During breakfast the next day, Harry found himself seated with Daphne and Tracy as usual, the bustling Great Hall alive with the murmur of voices and clinking of cutlery. Casting a curious glance around, he noticed a palpable air of excitement among the students, their eyes darting furtively toward the teachers' table.
"Do I even want to know?" Harry inquired, his brow furrowing with mild annoyance.
"Yes, you do," Tracy affirmed with a nod, her expression tinged with a hint of mischief.
"Alright, why is everyone gossiping?" Harry relented, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Well," Tracy began, leaning in conspiratorially, "apparently, Quirrell was attacked yesterday."
"By whom?" Daphne's interest piqued, her tone betraying a mixture of concern and intrigue.
"Probably his own shadow," Harry muttered with a roll of his eyes, "or maybe an overly enthusiastic fly. I swear, I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking hiring him as a teacher."
Tracy ignored Harry's jest and continued, "From what I've heard, it was a person who apparently hurt the professor and then managed to escape from Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick."
Harry arched an eyebrow skeptically. "How the hell do you know all this?" he asked, a hint of suspicion coloring his tone.
"I have my ways," Tracy replied with a knowing smile, her expression giving away nothing more.
"I guess that means we won't have Defense Against the Dark Arts classes anymore," Daphne remarked, her thoughts already drifting to the potential repercussions of Quirrell's absence.
"Unless they get a replacement," Harry suggested, ever the pragmatist, as they returned their focus to their breakfast, the chatter of the Great Hall providing a backdrop to their conversation.
Top of Form
"Indeed," Daphne concurred, her expression pensive. "But the question remains, who would step into the vacant position?"
"Perhaps Dumbledore," Tracy suggested, her gaze drifting toward the headmaster at the teacher's table.
"I certainly hope not," Harry remarked with a weary sigh. "I can barely make out a single word he utters."
"And his fashion sense leaves much to be desired," Harry added, nodding toward Dumbledore's flamboyant purple robe, a vivid testament to the eccentricity of the esteemed wizard.
"That's a bit harsh," Tracy chided gently.
"I speak only the truth," Harry defended himself. "My poor eyes suffer greatly in his presence."
"Let's not forget about Quirrell," Daphne interjected, redirecting the conversation.
"Right," Harry conceded with a shrug. "So, let's say Quirrell was attacked. How does it concern us?"
"Do you truly have no concern for Quirrell's well-being?" Tracy asked, a hint of disappointment coloring her tone.
"It's not as though he's met his demise," Harry countered. "And besides, what can we possibly do about it?"
"Fair point," Daphne conceded, her gaze shifting to the adults at the staff table. "Perhaps it's best to leave it to them to handle."
"Yeah," Harry nodded, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness beneath the jest. "We have to focus on more pressing matters, like Quidditch or how long it'll take for Daphne to finally confess her undying love for me."
"I don't love you," Daphne retorted, her expression incredulous.
"Not yet," Harry teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"I would never say that I love you," Daphne insisted, her voice tinged with exasperation.
"My mother said the same thing to my father," Harry quipped, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "And look at them now—happily married. So, Daph, summer wedding or more of a winter affair?"
Tracy couldn't help but giggle, and despite her efforts to maintain composure, Daphne's cheeks flushed pink.
"You're not funny, Harry," she scolded, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "And besides, you don't know that I'll likely be forced into a marriage contract by some pompous pure-blood."
"I'm in one," Harry remarked casually, his words causing both Daphne and Tracy to gasp in shock.
"What?!" they exclaimed almost simultaneously, their voices echoing in the now hushed room.
"Could you say that any louder? I don't think America heard you," Harry quipped, casting a few discreet protective spells to ensure their conversation remained private.
"You're in a marriage contract?!" Tracy's eyes widened in disbelief, while Daphne's expression shifted to one of concern, though she attempted to mask it.
"I am, at present," Harry confirmed, his gaze meeting Daphne's with a mix of resolve and uncertainty.
"Currently?" Daphne's voice wavered slightly as she sought clarification.
"Yeah," Harry confirmed with a nod. "I went to Gringotts some time ago and discovered that an old relative of mine arranged a marriage contract between me and another family. Unfortunately, I couldn't ascertain which family it was; I'll only find out if my parents disclose it to me or when I come of age."
"So, you're potentially bound to marry into a family you know nothing about?" Tracy's brow furrowed with concern.
"Not exactly," Harry clarified, shaking his head. "At fourteen, I can claim the title of head of the family if my parents haven't woken up from their condition."
"Wait, what?" Tracy's confusion deepened.
"If the current head of the household is unable to fulfill their duties, the title passes to the next oldest eligible member," Harry elaborated patiently. "In this case, since Mum and Dad are incapacitated, the title would pass to me. I can legally become head of the house at the age of fourteen at the earliest. Until then, I have the option to either appoint a proxy or abstain from making any major decisions. However, the proxy isn't authorized to make significant changes such as terminating the marriage contract. I've designated someone whom I've been corresponding with via letters to act as my proxy. They'll manage all financial and legal matters until I reach the age of majority. But once I turn fourteen, I'll assume the position and have the authority to nullify the contract."
Tracy nodded slowly, processing the intricate legalities of Harry's situation.
"Wow," Daphne breathed, her astonishment evident in her wide-eyed gaze.
"I know, the unfortunate part is that Dumbledore is aware of the situation," Harry remarked grimly.
"Why is that a cause for concern?" Daphne inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Because he's angling for me to either grant his golden boy the position or appoint him as the proxy," Harry explained, his voice tinged with frustration. "Either way, it would grant him significant control over my affairs. I anticipate he'll approach me soon to discuss it."
"Why?" Daphne arched an eyebrow, sensing the gravity of the situation.
"Most likely because the goblins are deducting funds from his vault to reimburse the Potter family vault for the unauthorized withdrawals he made," Harry shrugged nonchalantly, though his words carried weight, causing both girls to widen their eyes in disbelief. "I suspect that's the letter that will inform him of the consequences of his actions."
As if on cue, a sleek Gringotts owl swooped into the Great Hall, gracefully landing before Dumbledore and delivering the letter with practiced precision. Before the headmaster could even break the seal, the owl took flight once more, disappearing into the rafters with a swift beat of its wings. Dumbledore's typically serene countenance faltered slightly as he read the contents of the missive, a faint tinge of color rising to his cheeks. Without a word, he rose from his seat and departed the hall with as much composure as he could muster.
"What did I tell you?" Harry's grin was triumphant, his eyes alight with vindication.
"He took money from your vault?!" Daphne's disbelief was palpable, her voice laced with incredulity.
"Believe it," Harry confirmed, his tone tinged with bitterness. "I'm not sure if my less-than-charming counterpart is aware, but I was thoroughly displeased to learn that the old man had his fingers in the proverbial pot of my ancestors' hard-earned gold."
"That's illegal!" Tracy's voice was a sharp hiss of indignation. "You could take him to court!"
"A court brimming with Dumbledore loyalists? No thank you," Harry scoffed, his expression hardening with resolve. "If I wanted to waste my time, I'd sooner attempt to impart proper table manners to the Weasley boy and his crimson-haired companion."
Harry's words hung in the air, carrying a mixture of defiance and frustration. Daphne and Tracy exchanged glances, both understanding the weight of the situation.
"But surely there must be something you can do," Daphne insisted, her voice filled with determination.
"Perhaps," Harry conceded, his expression thoughtful. "But for now, I'll bide my time and wait for the opportune moment to address this issue."
Tracy nodded in agreement. "It's important to choose your battles wisely," she remarked, her tone reflective.
Harry offered a grateful smile to his friends, appreciating their support in the face of adversity. "Thank you, both of you," he said sincerely. "I couldn't ask for better allies in this."
"We're in this together," Daphne affirmed, her gaze unwavering.
"And we'll stand by you every step of the way," Tracy added, her determination matching Daphne's.
As they sat in contemplative silence, the bustling sounds of the Great Hall surrounding them, Harry felt a renewed sense of resolve coursing through him. With Daphne and Tracy at his side, he knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he wouldn't face them alone. Together, they would navigate the complexities of their world, confronting injustice and adversity with unwavering determination.
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The remainder of Harry's day unfolded much like any other at Hogwarts. Hermione's death glares were a constant presence, particularly whenever Harry outperformed her in class—a feat that seemed to occur with remarkable frequency. Adrian and Ron, true to form, shot daggers at Harry whenever he so much as breathed, while Draco managed to combine disdain with a healthy dose of jealousy, sending Harry withering glances whenever he engaged in any sort of interaction with Daphne.
Speaking of Daphne, Harry found ample opportunity to flirt shamelessly with her throughout the day, much to her simultaneous delight and embarrassment. Tracy, for her part, oscillated between fits of laughter and uncontrollable giggles, punctuated occasionally by an indelicate snort.
The day took a particularly irksome turn when Dumbledore assumed control of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, much to the delight of Adrian, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindors. The Slytherins, including Harry, were less enthused. It wasn't lost on Harry that while Dumbledore didn't overtly discriminate against Slytherins, his favoritism towards Gryffindors was evident in subtle ways—such as ignoring raised hands from Slytherins in favor of Gryffindors, or displaying noticeably more enthusiasm when a Gryffindor offered an answer.
As the class drew to a close, Harry gathered his belongings, ready to depart, when he heard his name being called by the Headmaster. Signaling to his friends to go ahead without him, they departed, leaving Harry to approach the Headmaster with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. And standing beside Dumbledore was none other than his twin brother, adding an extra layer of intrigue to the encounter.
"Yes, sir?" Harry asked politely, his tone respectful. "How may I assist you?"
"I would like to have a little chat with you, Mr. Potter," replied Dumbledore, his voice carrying a hint of gravity.
"Of course, sir, but may I inquire as to the topic of this discussion?" Harry responded, his curiosity piqued.
"Today, I received a rather unexpected letter from Gringotts," explained Dumbledore. "It stated that I must refund everything I've taken from the Potter vaults. Needless to say, I was quite surprised by this turn of events."
"As was I, sir," Harry replied evenly, though his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement.
"Indeed?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Harry's response.
"Yes," Harry nodded, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I must say, I hadn't anticipated the goblins acting with such swiftness and efficiency in this matter. It seems they're quite determined when it comes to matters concerning their finances."
"You actually initiated this action?!" Adrian exclaimed, his incredulity evident.
"No, little brother," Harry corrected gently, turning to face Adrian. "The goblins took it upon themselves to rectify the situation. I simply made a request."
"Harry," Dumbledore interjected, his tone measured.
"It's Hadrian, sir, or Mr. Potter," Harry reminded him respectfully.
"Yes, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore acknowledged, his expression thoughtful. "May I inquire as to why you took such action?"
"Can you," replied Harry calmly, his gaze steady as the room fell silent for a few tense seconds, Dumbledore processing the unexpected challenge.
"Why did you do that?" Dumbledore finally asked, his tone measured but with a hint of curiosity.
"I thought it was a logical course of action," Harry responded, raising an eyebrow. "You took money from the Potter vaults without permission, and I simply facilitated its retrieval. Admittedly, you may incur further penalties from Gringotts for violating their guidelines, but I believe it's a fair consequence."
"Stop being foolish!" Adrian interjected, his frustration evident. "Our parents probably authorized those transactions!"
"They didn't," Harry countered calmly. "The withdrawals occurred after they fell into a coma, and Dumbledore accessed the vaults multiple times without their consent. The last transaction occurred on our tenth birthday, unless our parents have miraculously awakened and visited Gringotts, which I highly doubt. Furthermore, I won't gamble our family's wealth on the mere assumption of parental consent. If our parents wish for Dumbledore to retain the gold, they can decide upon their awakening. And if you're so keen on bestowing gold upon the Headmaster, I suggest you draw from your trust vault; the family vault is strictly off-limits."
"Harry, what's gotten into you?!" Adrian hissed, his frustration palpable. "He's Dumbledore, the leader of the Light!"
Harry met Adrian's gaze squarely, his expression unwavering. "And he's also a man who must be held accountable for his actions, regardless of his title or reputation."
"And you're a Potter!" Harry shot back, his voice tinged with pride. "The Potters are a proud family, one of the finest in Britain. We've produced inventors, politicians, healers, warriors, and much more. Our grandfather once fended off twenty-one Death Eaters single-handedly before he was struck down. Blood purity has never mattered to us, but what has always mattered is our commitment to family. I refuse to squander our ancestors' hard-earned gold simply to appease the Headmaster. Until Mum and Dad awaken, it falls upon me to shoulder the responsibility as the head of the family once more."
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore interjected, his tone gentle yet firm, "you cannot assume the role of family head; you're far too young."
"I'm well aware of that, which is why I intend to appoint a proxy," Harry responded confidently. "My chosen proxy will oversee the day-to-day affairs until I reach the age of majority."
"Mr. Potter, as a friend of your parents, I would be honored to serve as your proxy," Dumbledore offered graciously, masking his inner frustration with a veneer of cordiality.
"No, thank you," Harry declined politely. "I've already identified someone suitable for the role."
"And who might this person be?" Dumbledore inquired calmly, though inwardly he seethed with frustration. Perhaps he could persuade this individual to decline the offer, or failing that, perhaps he could exert some influence over them.
"The person has yet to accept the responsibility, so there's no need for me to disclose their name at this time," Harry replied evenly. "However, should they decline, I have alternative arrangements in place. So, rest assured, Headmaster, there's no cause for concern. After all, with all due respect, the affairs of the Potter family are not within your jurisdiction."
"Young man, your attitude leaves much to be desired; your parents would be deeply disappointed," Dumbledore admonished, his expression morphing into one of feigned grandfatherly disappointment.
"No, sir, my parents were James and Lily Potter," Harry retorted, his tone firm. "And I don't presume to know how they would feel about my actions. But when they awaken, I will have that discussion with them. Good day, sir, and brother," he added, nodding to Adrian. "I suggest we all strive to avoid unnecessary trouble."
With that, Harry turned on his heel and exited the classroom, leaving behind a stunned Boy-Who-Lived and a flabbergasted Headmaster. None could quite believe that the young man had just rebuffed Albus Dumbledore, the revered leader of the Light, and simply walked away.
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