Ootb part 2
"Urrhgh" came the sound out of the next bedroom along from Harry. It was Dudley as most of the Dursleys had come back home the previous day at about 11 o'clock at night. Thank you, National Rail. Sometimes a damaged bridge was the greatest thing of all time.
Of course, Petunia and Vernon had been fuming about this and as a result, Vernon had punched some guard on the train when he had been unable to provide answers to his questions. This had led to a further delay as the police had to remove Vernon from the carriage forcefully and take him to spend the night at the police station.
Petunia had, wisely, not done anything and come home with her 'Precious Diddy-Kins'. She was currently waking up Dudley, hence the ungodly noises coming from his room. Dudley had never been a morning person even with ten hours of sleep, but with less than seven hours, he was not getting up easily. Petunia was heading to the station where Vernon had been taken to get some information which was why she was trying to get Dudley into a state of consciousness, so he knew where she was. It wasn't like he was fifteen or anything, or like she couldn't have left a note.
Harry had, as usual when the Dursleys were at home, been up since five and had cooked breakfast. He was now lying in bed staring at the ceiling. All of a sudden, there was a tapping at the window and Harry saw not one, but two owls waiting at the window. One was very small, like a feathery snitch with eyes too big for its head. The other was a silvery owl with inquisitive and curious eyes, with which it observed Harry closely as if it were trying to work out who he was.
Harry jumped up from his bed and opened the window to let in the two owls. The smaller one shot in like a bullet before hitting the opposite wall, bouncing off it and flying in circles at high speed. The larger silver owl, however, was more graceful and with one flap of its wings, hopped over the windowsill and into the room before extending its leg towards Harry. All the while its gaze had been fixed on Harry's, her (Harry could somehow tell it was a she now) deep silvery-grey eyes gazing straight into Harry's bright green eyes. Somehow, Harry could almost feel the owl… communicating? Completely random thoughts started to pop into his head all of them saying something similar:
"Hello, Harry Potter."
Harry wasn't sure what to make of that. Out of nowhere, that series of words appeared in his head, and he was unable to shake it. This owl had somehow managed to say hello, without moving a muscle. This was very strange.
After about a minute, Harry finally noticed the letter attached to the owl's extended leg. He quickly retrieved it from the owl and unravelled it.
Hello Harry Potter,
We met on the train ride back from Hogwarts, I'm Luna. There is something you need to know. I understand Gringotts gave you a letter. Complete its contents and ask about any active or recent alliances when you're at Gringotts. I would recommend writing to all of those families when you do.
While many people call me loony, I am in fact perfectly sane and rather knowledgeable. The question is: are you?
Yours, Luna Lovegood.
Harry let out a low whistle, things just got a whole lot more confusing. 'Are you?', what should that mean? Luna Lovegood? Somehow, he knew that name, wait 'some people call me loony'? That Luna Lovegood? The one from the train with The Quibbler? Thinking back, Harry remembered that her eyes had had a similar quality to those of the owl which had delivered her letter. Her hair did have a similar silvery quality too. It was almost like she was the owl in front of him. But that shouldn't be poss-. Of course, it was possible, Sirius was an Animagus by fifth year without help if his stories were to be believed anyway, Luna had family, who probably helped her.
"Wait, no way. Luna? Is that you? You're an Animagus right?" he asked the owl who had started wandering over his desk towards the edge before jumping up and transforming into a girl. A girl with silvery eyes and blonde hair. A girl with her wand tucked behind her ear, and a necklace of butterbeer corks.
"It would seem you are, wouldn't it?" she said with a serene smile "That's good, that will make this all easier when the time comes for you to know."
"Hey. That was an entrance and a half." Harry muttered under his breath "Wonderful to know I'm sane and knowledgeable. And what is it exactly I'm supposed to find out? 'Cause I've recently found out a fair bit of shit that was hidden from me, it turns out I'm not a fan of being played like a puppet."
"Oh, and you've lost most of the Wrackspurt infestation too, that is rather wonderful." Luna acted as though his outburst were nothing but a few whisps of smoke just floating through the sky. Although, you should probably get those Blibbering Humdingers looked at."
Harry facepalmed.
"Luna, please, what is all this stuff I have to be told? And why are you even here? I met you once and that was on a train journey from Hogwarts to Kings Cross. How do you even know where I live?" Harry cried out exasperated.
"You will find out what when the time is right. I am here because 'why not?'. And I know where you live because I am friends with Ginny Weasley. By the way, your aunt is about to open the door and tell you to shut up and go clean the dishes. I'll be going now." She answered casually. And with that, she walked over to the desk, transformed, and flew off into the ever-brightening sky.
"Damn, that was-"
"Boy! Shut up with that racket and go clean the dishes and empty out the airing cupboard!" his aunt slammed the door open and shouted into his room.
"Already done!" he shouted back, before whispering. "Dobby can you just do any chores my aunt asks of me? Just without her seeing you." Dobby appeared and whispered back,
"Of course, Master Harry sir." Harry had managed to get him to drop the 'Great' part and told him to call him Harry. "I be beings completely invisible to nasty auntie." He added before popping away.
"What do you mean already done?" his aunt hissed into his room.
"I mean I have completed all and any task you could ask of me. Go and check if you want." Harry answered boredly, knowing his deliberately disinterested tone would cause him problems later. But strangely his aunt chose to go and see if what he had said was true.
Just then, the small owl decided it had had enough of waiting and decided to divebomb Harry's head with a hoot. Harry ducked under the owl before grabbing onto it gently, allowing him to pluck the letter from his leg before releasing the little owl and offering up a bit of bacon for its troubles. Unrolling the letter, Harry noted Ron's untidy scrawl on the letter.
Harry mate,
You won't believe this! Dad just gave us the best news! Y'know, the Quidditch World Cup finals are in three weeks right, well Dad said that he's gotten us tickets for it! In the stadium! Not only that but in the BOX! With the minister and everything! And Mum doesn't want to go so you can come with us! Please say yes. Harry if we don't get a yes, we will actually possibly kill you. Dad, Fred, George and I will get you as soon as we get a response confirming what we already know. By the way, this is Pigwidgeon or Pig for short, he's my new owl. Sorry about his character.
Ron
P.S. Hermione here; help Harry, they're all obsessed over the World Cup and Percy is soo boring I think I might die if you don't come and save me.
Harry read the letter with growing and growing excitement, tickets to the World Cup! And in the box as well! Harry knew already that he was going to go, all he had to do was talk to Gringotts first. His list of knowledge was completed anyway so all he had to do was go and ask for Ripclaw.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
As Harry slowly strolled down Diagon Alley towards Gringotts, he found himself feeling slightly uncomfortable as if he was being watched. He tried to shake it off as paranoia, but he couldn't help the feeling that either something was about to happen or was coming very soon.
But he couldn't dwell upon his thoughts for long as he approached the white marble façade of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He was reminded of his first visit as he climbed the somewhat uneven steps towards the massive oaken doors. 'Yeh'd have ter be a total idiot ter even think about robbin' Gringotts. It's pro'ly the safest place in te worl', 'cept 'ogwarts o' course'. Hagrid never was one to skirt around the truth he thought with a smile. As Harry neared the large oaken doors, two goblins opened them with a low bow.
"Thank you, may your gold flow," Harry nodded to each of the goblins who were more than a little surprised to see not just a wizard, but a teenager using the customary goblin expression of thanks. Harry repeated this with the two goblins on the inner door next to the plaques warning away thieves to the same reaction. With a slight grin, he joined the small queue of people waiting for a teller.
When Harry got to the front of the queue, he approached the next teller, who went by the name of Ragbar.
"Good day Master Goblin," he began, "I wish to speak with my account manager, Ripclaw. I am a scion of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, sadly the last one." His research sheet had shown that going in confidently, but not arrogantly, and using titles would gain him respect and make interactions easier. It appeared to have worked as Ragbar had frozen briefly, surprised by Harry's identity and politeness.
"Very well, Mister Potter. If you would follow me to your account manager's office." He said in an almost even tone, much better than the usual distaste goblins spoke to wizards with. And with that, the goblin opened the small wooden gate next to him and hopped down from his chair. He then led them away from the lobby and towards a luxuriously decorated hallway, complete with a plush carpet running the length of the hallway and small tables displaying forged silver trinkets.
As they marched down the Hallway, they passed several doors each displaying a goblin's name and a couple of family names underneath. Harry saw several names he recognised on several of the golden plaques; Bones, Boot, Goldstein, Malfoy, Nott, Greengrass, Smith, Abbott and Longbottom. But finally, they reached a door with a plaque reading:
Master Teller and Account Manager
Ripclaw the Ruthless
Responsible for the Most Ancient and Noble Houses of
Potter
Falkenstein
Ragbar knocked at the door and a crisp voice called out to them almost immediately.
"Enter!" the two did so, with Ragbar saying something in gobbledegook which Harry couldn't understand except for the words 'Harry Potter'. It seemed his name didn't have a gobbledegook translation.
Another voice answered in gobbledegook and as Harry entered, he saw the answerer, he was a surprisingly young-looking Goblin sitting behind a magnificently carved mahogany desk with intricate designs of goblins crafting weapons and armour. The goblin in question, though looking young, had a certain quality to him, as though he had experience or knowledge beyond his years. He had slicked back, pure black hair and as he stood to greet Harry, it was clear to see the large and lethal-looking dagger sheathed on his belt.
"Mr. Potter, it is wonderful to finally meet you. You are a difficult man to contact." He began as he extended his hand to Harry.
"Master Teller, may your gold flow and your enemies fall by your axe." Harry greeted using the full formal greeting. "And I must apologise for my isolation, although I myself am not sure how your owls never found me. I was never behind anti-mail wards." Harry explained.
"Nevertheless, you are here, and we have a great deal of business to attend to today," Ripclaw explained. "But first, be aware that it is not Gringotts' business to deal with your House's situation. Just because we have the authority to do so, doesn't mean we particularly care." He stated.
"Then how come we are sitting here?" Harry questioned, already knowing the answer.
"Because House Potter is one of Gringotts' most profitable, but we had signed a contract with the previous lord, Lord Fleamont Charlus Potter, your grandfather, which gave us the solo responsibility for the finances, security, and curse-breaking ventures for House Potter. This contract expired on the 1st of January 1981. We were in the process of renegotiating when he had to go into quarantine due to a case of dragon-pox with his wife, who didn't survive."
"He was a broken man after his wife died, and after he re-entered society, Death Eaters attacked him at his home. He fought back and left over a dozen death eaters dead or grievously wounded but was eventually hit by a curse later identified as being from the Malfoy family's rather small grimoire. He refused to be saved when he discovered the fate of the rest of the family. From what I gathered from a good friend of his, he was not informed of your survival." The goblin recounted as he extracted a bottle of firewhisky from his desk with two shot glasses he poured some of the orangey liquid into both glasses. He then walked over to a cabinet and took out a shallow bowl and a vial, both filled with a swirling gaseous liquid. "This is a memory of Fleamont Potter's final stand extracted from one of the death eaters present and the immediate aftermath which shows a bit about Sirius Black. But I warn you, it is not a pretty fight." He said as he placed the bowl on the table and dropped a blueish strand from the vial into it. "Just put your finger in the bowl." He spoke.
Harry, reeling from the revelations, hadn't noticed the movement in front of him and had only regained awareness for the explanation of what he should do. He knew looking at the memory would probably be a bad idea, but what the hell? He was a Gryffindor after all.
He nodded and placed a finger in the fluid.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry fell through the sky before landing with a thump on the ground amongst a group of around twenty men, all wearing completely black robes and bone-white masks. Of note was a fairly young-looking teen, he couldn't have even been twenty, who was practically shaking with fear.
The night was clear, with an almost filled moon shining down on the men and the surrounding countryside with a pale glow. The night was cool and peaceful, something which would only underline the destruction that would come.
Suddenly there was a shout of 'READY!' and there was an almighty sound of smashing glass as the wards around the property collapsed and new temporary ones were established by the death eaters. All of a sudden, the house surrounded by said wards came into view along with its owner, Lord Fleamont Charlus Potter. Fleamont Potter, while no spring chicken, was still only around fifty and in extremely good shape. He was famed for having trained directly under both his father and several other well-regarded fighters, hell he had even participated in several battles against Grindelwald and shown his skill. This man was now more than a little pissed off, his wife had died not six weeks prior and now a group of death eaters had smashed the wards around his home.
Although he was behind some very strong wards, they were nothing in comparison to those of Potter Manor. However, the memories there were now too painful for the man, so he had moved to a smaller and less protected property nearer to his only son.
The death eaters hesitated briefly, not expecting the man to be waiting halfway between them and the house, which they were hoping to bombard from just inside the ward-line which while not far, was still around fifty to sixty metres. But what really shook them was the amount of magic and hatred the man was clearly showing. His eyes burned with a fire which showed no compassion, his face a mask of complete calm, but the hatred still easily washing over them.
The first spell lit up the night, a wide-area explosive curse, which Fleamont simply sidestepped, allowing it to hit the ground a good twenty metres behind him, throwing up a wall of soil and pebbles behind him and obscuring the moon.
"Really? That the best you got Rosier?" a voice echoed out across the stretch of No Man's Land, mocking the leader of the operation.
Suddenly, an orange and green spell erupted from a spot a dozen metres from where Fleamont was not two seconds prior. The spell barrelled towards the death eaters, crossing the distance before many could get their shields up. It smashed against one hasty shield, before slowly absorbing the magic in it and detonating on the other side, sending the caster and a comrade flying back with sickening crunches.
As the young death eater, probably the donor of the memory, looked on in horror, several spells had started to fly back at the single defender, who was already casting back and dodging the oncoming spells with ease. Another death eater screamed as a spell caused massive vines to rip up from the ground and wrap themselves around him and rip him limb from limb.
Fleamont was still easily dealing with the men responsible for so many deaths. He turned around and transfigured the massive piles of soil left by the first explosion into spikes and immediately banished them towards the attackers, who in turn conjured flames and raised mounds of earth to block them, allowing Fleamont to cast another family spell, which turned the ground to a liquid thus trapping all caught in its radius under several inches of soil which would then harden almost immediately. This made the walls of earth collapse backwards like a wave breaking on the beach trapping several death eaters.
There were many shouts of surprise and horror as men found themselves halfway up their calves in essentially concrete. Fleamont followed this with several shield breakers and overpowered banishing charms, destroying the legs of several death eaters.
Using the ever so brief respite, Fleamont placed a finger on a tattoo on the left side of his neck. This was similar to the dark mark worn by high-level death eaters but was both reversible and more advanced than that of Voldemort. He could convey messages and pictures to anyone else with the tattoo. It was called the mark of the dragon and was carried by a select few, including the Potters, the original Hogwarts Marauders, the Longbottoms and the Prewetts. With it you could send messages directly and over any distance, they could also act as emergency portkeys and should the owner be subjected to interrogation, would sponge up all their memories and store them until a specific rune was written onto it. Fleamont received the answer of 'less than five minutes out' from his son.
He grinned and returned to the still struggling death eaters. By now a third of the eighteen-man raid team were either dead or incapable of anything other than screams and groans of pain. Nevertheless, he was still outnumbered twelve-to-one. The group seemed to have noticed that they would need to work somewhat cohesively to even get close to this man. So, with five shielding the others, six attacking, and one acting as a healer, Fleamont started to really open up, he used quick and devastating spell chains and quick movements to attempt to cause massive losses on the attackers. He succeeded, partially, the attackers were slowly being whittled down first one, then two and within three minutes, another five attackers had fallen. However, Fleamont had taken two hits, a bone-breaker to the left arm and a glancing cutter to his right thigh. He had six opponents and one other who appeared to be trying to help his fallen comrades but was largely failing. He was irrelevant, as long as he didn't try anything. Then his life, or at least a limb would be forfeit.
The remaining six were, however, his toughest opponents, one was definitely Rosier Sr, one Nott Sr, the third either Lucius or Abraxas Malfoy. All were suspected or, in Rosier's case, confirmed inner ring death eaters; all were more experienced than the rabble they were leading.
"Lords! Why don't we dispense with the masks and simply duel right here and now in the open? Me against Rosier and any other two of you!" Fleamont called out, trying to buy time for the Order of the Phoenix to arrive on the scene and at least apprehend something not dead or dying, knowing that they could have information. "I will try not to kill you if possible. But believe me, if we continue like this, I will kill all of you without a second thought." He offered.
"Very well!" A voice called out, "I and these two shall accept your challenge. Our comrades will observe but not attack you during this duel." A figure, Rosier Sr stepped forward, followed by two others he had tapped on the shoulder, Nott Sr and another who Fleamont didn't recognize.
The three men took up positions in front of the Potter, one behind the other two to try and defend them as they attacked. Fleamont readied himself knowing the styles of Nott and Rosier indicated they would start with a chain of powerful offensive spells. Thanks to his father's advice, he knew how to counter such a tactic.
Charlus Potter was legendary in his time, he and Arcturus Black had led Britain's forces against Grindelwald and had eventually ended up co-ordinating the entire Western Front of the war and left absolute decimation in the wake of their advances. During a battle they would often each lead one flank and work their way towards another before meeting up and hitting the rear of the enemy. Both men had later trained their sons together, Fleamont Potter and Orion and Pollux Black, the three had been great friends until Pollux had started to lean into the rhetoric of the death eaters. Then things were complicated.
In any case, Fleamont had barely used any of his family magic, his mother had been Dorea Black and as such he had been permitted to learn both the Potter and Black family magics. This enabled him to be able to use the most unpleasant of curses created by the Blacks along with large-scale battle and elemental magic from the Potters.
The first volley came from the duo of Rosier and Nott but as soon as the spells left their wands, Fleamont simply disappeared, their spells just speeding into the woods on the edge of the property.
"Where did he go?" Shouted the man behind the two lords before a yellow and green spell hit him side-on, causing his hands, feet and genitals to instantly be engulfed by neon-green flames. He let out an ear-piercing scream moments before the fire spread along his body. He fell to the ground where he was relieved from his agony by a spell from Nott, who had looked on in horror as the spell had taken effect.
Fleamont then reappeared behind them and unleashed a wave of spells at the pair who had to resort to casting huge shields of earth and magic. This was when the other three decided this was the time to unleash everything at Fleamont, who had to resort to a mage-shield to repel the oncoming spells from three directions.
This, however, gave the other two men time to start casting as well, and soon Fleamont found himself being attacked on all sides, his magic starting to flag from the sheer number of spells his shield was absorbing.
He knew he had little time left so, he braced himself and murmured something under his breath, 'Scutum Potentia Exidare'. Almost immediately his shield detonated outwards with a tremendous explosion.
Two of the death eaters were instantly disintegrated by the explosion, Nott and another were flung several dozen metres away. Only the furthest two had escaped mostly unscathed, Malfoy and Rosier. Both had seen their opponent mutter something and had erected mounds of earth and shields moments before the explosion had hit.
Now they both emerged from their cover and moved cautiously towards the kneeling figure of Fleamont Potter. He had used almost all of his reserves in the explosion and could barely cast a stunner if he tried.
Suddenly there was the sound of apparition at the ward boundary as several people appeared in the distance and rushed towards the group.
"Shit. We have to go. Finish him, Lucius." Rosier ordered the younger man. "MORSMORDRE!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the sky. He then grinned at the sight of the Dark Mark in the sky. "PORTKEYS!" he then screamed at the few living death eaters. "LUCI-argghh" he began before gurgling as a spell punched a hole clear through his chest, spraying the man he had turned to with blood.
Moments earlier, Lucius had run over to the still-kneeling Fleamont before, pointing his wand at him and calmly saying "Spiritus Mortis" It was one of his Family spells and slowly turned the air inhaled by the victim into ozone in the lungs. The subjects would die after a minimum of around two and a half weeks, depending on their magical strength, regardless of attempts to save them. It had been a Malfoy spell for a couple of centuries, but hadn't been changed since 1834 and even then the changer had only been a Malfoy by marriage.
It was then that he turned around to see Rosier turn to him, only to have a hole blown through his chest. He saw as the body slumped to the ground and his blood froze when he looked down the slight hill at the group of eight people rushing up towards him, spells already lighting the tips of their wands. It was then that he activated his emergency portkey and disappeared along with another four death eaters who had regained consciousness after their injuries at the start of the fight.
This left only the young wizard from the start, who immediately scrabbled for his portkey, only for his heart to sink as he felt the magic of anti-travel wards wash over him. He immediately threw down his wand and removed his mask and robes, before raising his hands in surrender.
He knew he didn't stand a chance as he saw the group standing in front of him:
Sirius Black, who had dispatched Rosier, was feared by every death eater, even the insane ones.
Alastor Moody, infamous for his skill with a wand and hatred of death eaters.
The Prewett twins, who were known to be an almost unstoppable pair who once won in an eight-on-two fight against death eaters.
James Potter, who was also as famous as Black for his prowess, especially when working with him or his friends from school.
The Longbottoms, while not as feared as the others, were known as a force to be reckoned with.
The last man, however, was the largest reason for the man's fear. He was slightly older than the man who had demolished the raid team, but he had a steely demeanour to him. He bore a resemblance to Black and with good reason, he was Black's grandfather. The last man was Arcturus Black, and he looked pissed off.
"I-I-I sw-swear, I d-didn't cast a s-single of-f-fensive s-spell. P-P-Please, d-d-don't hurt me." He stammered out.
"Then why the fuck are you here?" Arcturus questioned dangerously, his eyes showing the hatred and anger he felt. "And where is the man you came here to kill? Where is my nephew?" the end of his question turning into a shout at the shaking man in front of him.
The young man could barely hold his finger straight as he pointed to where the now-lying figure of Fleamont Potter was, with the still-bleeding body of Rosier mere feet away. Immediately, Potter and Arcturus sprinted over to the spot. Black, who seemed to be coordinating everyone, told the other four to go and check the bodies littering the slope to make sure there weren't going to be any surprises. In contrast, he and Moody kept their wands trained on the young man.
"What's your name kid?" he asked.
"Lee, Jonathan Lee." He answered nervously.
"Well then Jonathan, wha-"
"Wait!" Moddy interrupted, "Sir." He added looking at Sirius, "Lee, as in the Ancient House of Lee?" he demanded. Jonathan nodded. "Shit. If it gets out that we took a member of an ancient house prisoner while off duty and then interrogated him, we'll all be fucked, which means no more Hit-wizard licences and therefore no extra-curricular action." He explained.
"Kid we'll need an oath that you won't let anybody know who it was that captured you, or we'll have to obliviate you," Sirius said.
"O-OK. What do I say?" he asked. Before repeating the oath Sirius wrote out in fiery letters in the air. When he was finished, he glowed slightly gold.
"Well then Jonathan, what are you doing here? Raiding the home of Fleamont Potter?" Sirius questioned.
"I- well… you see…" he began, but after seeing Sirius' and Moody's faces, he restarted. "My Parents forced me; they joined him and now to test my loyalty he sent me here. My sister's and girlfriend's lives would have been forfeit if I hadn't come here. But I couldn't bring myself to fight, they're going to be killed if I go back and they test my wand and find out I didn't cast anything." He finished miserably.
"Alright kid, how about this?" Sirius started, "We hold onto your wand and let you go on the condition you give us any and all information you have or receive in the future?"
"You want me to turn spy for you?!" he exclaimed. "Are you insane?! He'll know immediately, he's a master legilimens!"
"We are aware, but we have developed an oath-slash-charm which completely protects its contents from legilimency or veritaserum. It will temporarily remove the knowledge from your head until the effects of the interrogation method wear off, at which point you regain the knowledge. When interwoven with a concealment charm, it is impossible to find. Even for wizards of Dumbledore's calibre." Sirius explained calmly.
"I'll do it, but do you really need my wand?" he asked.
"Aye, kid." Moody answered, his scarred face contorting into a grin, "It'll give ya a cover story, you couldn't escape, we captured you, but one of your comrades isn't dead and makes a distraction so you escape."
"Besides your family has enough money to buy you a new one," Sirius added, "Now, think only of your desire to not fight for Voldemort and any other doubts you may have about his cause, our identities and your actions of tonight. They will be protected by the oath-charm." Sirius explained before muttering several words under his breath. Several runes formed briefly around the new spy's head before fading away into nothingness.
"Meet us in three weeks at the Hog's head, we'll give you more information then."
"Now run kid, if ya ain't fast enough I'll start firing lethal curses at ya!" Moody shouted in his face before hitting him with a stinging hex. Not needing to be told twice Jonathan turned and ran, dodging the speeding spells with surprising agility. As soon as he reached the outer boundaries, he turned and disapparated with a crack and the memory faded to black.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry exited the pensieve, shaken to his core, he would never forget what he had just seen.
"Holy shit." He whispered.
"Here, drink this, it'll help." The goblin offered him one of the glasses, which Harry cautiously downed. The whiskey burned and he coughed and sputtered, with short bouts of flame shooting out of his nose, as was the side effect to new drinkers. But the goblin was right, the whiskey helped to fight the sense of nausea that was overcoming him and somewhat cleared his mind.
The fight was one of the most harrowing things Harry had ever seen. Harry had seen death several times in his short time on Earth, but never had he seen destruction on such a scale.
"See, like I said, a hell of a fight," the goblin remarked dryly after observing the coughing fit a moment earlier.
"You-You could say that…" came the shellshocked reply from Harry.
"And I do, your grandfather was both a great fighter and an… efficient negotiator. In other words, he took a no-nonsense approach to politics." The goblin recounted. "He had a particular dislike for the likes of Abraxas Malfoy and often openly insulted him." The goblin recounted with a very faint smile as if remembering better times.
"I wonder why?" Harry asked sarcastically "It's not like he and his descendants are the most unpleasant people in Britain who believe themselves superior simply by existing or anything."
"My opinion is unimportant in this matter, regardless of how factual you may be." The goblin replied, back in his 'business-tone'. "The fact is, as the current head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, you are the one with whom we must make any deals regarding your house. We would like to renegotiate the deal we previously had with House Potter." He stated in an even tone.
"And what exactly was this deal? I won't just sign any deal, even if my ancestors did." Harry returned; his face as neutral as he could get it.
"A wise choice, Mr Potter. Such a mentality will help you in future." Ripclaw remarked. "As such, I will provide you with the last functioning contract between Gringotts and House Potter." He then opened a drawer in his desk and extracted a sheaf of parchment, which he then gave to Harry. "Feel free to look over it and decide whether or not you wish to reactivate the same, a slightly changed version, or a completely different contract. You may owl me when you have reached a conclusion and we will organise a meeting to seal whatever deal."
"Of course. But one thing, I have yet to solve my mail issue, I suspect you would have to send any letters through the muggle post." Harry explained apologetically. "I will see if a curse-breaker friend of mine might be able to work out the problem."
"That will not be too much of an issue." Ripclaw said, "Do you have any other business at Gringotts Mr Potter? If not, I will escort you to the exit."
"Actually yes, I was wondering if I could visit my vault. There are some things I wanted to check on."
"Of course, Mr Potter, may I ask which vault?"
"Wait, what do you mean 'which vault?'. I only have one vault, number 678." Harry said confused.
"Vault 678 is nothing more than your trust fund. It was established upon your birth and had twenty-five thousand galleons, enough to last you until you became heir of House Potter or like currently, head of House Potter. With the standard Gringotts yearly interest rate of three per cent, your trust fund vault now contains thirty-seven-thousand-eight-hundred-and-fourteen-galleons, twelve sickles, and seventeen knuts." Ripclaw read off of a small row of dials set into the left side of his desk which looked similar to the codes on a padlock or bike lock. There were three rows of dials, one under the caption 'Potter main', the second under 'Potter trust fund', and the third under 'Falkenstein official'.
"Holy shit. That, that's how much is that in muggle terms?" Harry asked trying to wrap his head around the number. Ripclaw tapped the dials of the 'Potter trust' and then read the displayed number out.
"With the current exchange rate, one-hundred-eighty-nine-thousand-and-seventy-three pounds, seventy-one pence." Harry, already overloaded with information, didn't even react outwardly, all he knew was that he was unlikely to have needed so much money in only seventeen years.
After an uncomfortably long silence, Harry's mind raced to try and find a sensible thing to say that wasn't 'Holy shit', after another two or three seconds, he came upon the question.
"Do those dials show the real-time worth of my vaults?" Harry asked looking at them.
"Yes, they update every year on the first of January or when you make a transaction. Did you really not know of the main Potter vault?" he asked.
"No, I first came four years ago, and I accessed vault 678 to buy my school things and so on, then the year after I just grabbed what I needed again for school shopping. Last year I spent most of the holidays in Diagon but even then, I was only here twice, I think. All I ever did was present my key and ask to make a withdrawal."
"And you never inquired about your vaults further?" asked Ripclaw incredulously.
"I- no- I never really had a reason, I could see a hell of a lot of galleons, and I figured if I was spending around two hundred galleons a year, I would be fine until I got a job," Harry answered.
"Hmm, while I would always ask about my account, I can understand your logic." Answered the accountant. "In any case, I assume you would like to receive some details about the Potter Vault?"
"Yes, I would," Harry replied without even needing to think.
"In which case," Ripclaw said as he pulled out a large stack of papers, "While you are head of House Potter, you are not yet emancipated and can therefore not make any withdrawals from the main Potter vault. However, you can access the family portraits and any information relating to them."
"But-"
"No. Mr Potter, this is non-negotiable. It is standard Gringotts procedure that no one underage may make withdrawals from main family vaults. The only exception is when it is specifically written in a will or any other official document."
"And I'm a standard case, am I?" Harry challenged, "The underage head of a Most Ancient and Noble House and I can't use the family Grimoire or fortune? Is there anything of House Potter's that I can use?"
"Not quite, you may look at the Grimoire, but it must remain in the vault. And if you wished, I imagine that you could assume your family seat on the Wizengamot, namely within the Sacred Twenty-Eight." Ripclaw corrected, "You should also be able to visit and live in any of the Potter Family's many properties. The full list is in the vault."
"I-ok sure, I guess I'll survive another few years without the full perks of being the Last Potter. But is there any way that I could keep a copy of that folder? To look over what I even own." Harry concluded gesturing to the stack of papers lying on the desk.
"Yes, that is why I extracted the folder, I already know what it contains." The goblin replied, "Now, shall we proceed to the vault? I already have the key to it." He said answering Harry's question before it could leave his lips.
"Absolutely." Harry answered, " But wait! There was something I needed to ask." Harry blurted out, remembering Luna's visit. At the consenting nod of Ripclaw, Harry asked, "Does House Potter have any active alliances? Or any that were active on to the first of November 1981?"
"Ahh, yes alliances. I was wondering if you would bring that up." Came the response. "yes, House Potter currently has an alliance with House Longbottom, Prewett, Weasley and Bones. In the past, there was a friendly relationship with several other families like Boot, Lovegood, Abbott, and McKinnon. There was also a… mostly good relationship with the Black family until around 1975 when they became mostly aligned with the dark lord Voldemort, thus resulting in an ideological rift." the goblin explained. "It is not exactly clear what happened, as the then head of House Black, Arcturus Black, was more liberal-leaning than many believed, but something changed in the summer of 1975 and the three youngest Blacks all suddenly changed their attitudes to almost everything. I have unfortunately very little insight into these matters though. For that, you would have to talk to the manager for the Black estate, which as a Black by blood you may do, should you wish to do so."
"Right, I'm a Black by blood, aren't I? Through my great-grandmother Dorea, right?" Harry answered.
"Right her brother was Arcturus Black, she married Charlus Potter and had Fleamont Potter, who had your father. You could probably claim the Black heirship if you wanted, you would have to contest the Malfoys for it though. Their heir, Draco is currently set to claim the House of Black through his mother."
"Really? God, he'll be even more insufferable than he already is. Who would be more likely to win if I were to try and win the Malfoy headship from the Malfoys?"
"I don't know and to be perfectly honest with you, I don't particularly care, it is not my job nor interest. You would have to ask a familial lawyer for that." Ripclaw said. "However, feel free to go and set up a meeting with the Black Family accountant. He's called Ringbone. He'll know more. Now on to the Potter Vault."
"Of course, sorry for the interruption."
Ripclaw led Harry out of the door in which he had entered, and they walked further down the corridor before taking a left and then a right turn. This led to what looked similar to a muggle train station, a stone platform next to a set of rails, mirrored on either side so that small carts could run down both sides in opposite directions. It appeared as though there was a cart arriving at the small 'station' every thirty seconds or so.
Off to the side, parallel to the tracks, there was a row of empty carts, on a smaller track which then connected to the main line. It was on one of these that Ripclaw took hold of the steering stick and Harry sat down behind him to the side. And braced himself for the rollercoaster ride he already knew was coming.
He just didn't know that he was far more correct than he could have ever thought.
AN:
The Gringotts' worths are correctly calculated it was… interesting trying to work it all out. I dunno why I bothered to calculate it though, most people probably wouldn't even notice if I pulled some random number out of my arse.
Sorry for the long delay, I had a fuck-ton of exams and other stuff going on.
Thanks for reading ;)