Chapter 1: What Do You Mean… Taxes?

Still blocking on Weaponized Cuteness. I have a few films to watch, but I can't afford the streams. So, that is put on the back burner for now.

A challenge fic from Chartry and her Emmi's collection on AO3. Kinda cracky and will hopefully be funny. It will be a short story, unless my muse hijacks me. She's known to do that from time to time. I don't expect much traffic on this one, but it should be fun to write.

I don't own Harry Potter, or anything you might recognize. This is the disclaimer for the entire fic.

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Harry Potter was sitting on a bench thoroughly confused and flabbergasted. He had been sitting at King Cross Station, after sending Hedwig off with Ron, waiting for his uncle. When he had called #4 Privet Dr. wondering where his uncle was, he was told under no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to come back there. They had found out about his emancipation in November and learned that he was an adult in the eyes of the wizards. Which is what was confusing the hell out of him. What emancipation?

"Go find your own way, you stupid freak," Uncle Vernon had said with sadistic glee. There was much malice in that tone.

"But I'm only fourteen years old," protested Harry, he didn't even understand what the tub of lard was talking about. He wasn't an adult. He never filed for emancipation. Could his uncle legally throw him out? Should he call the police?

"Not according to those freak wizards you're not," the fat man said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're an adult, so don't come back."

"But I have no money," said Harry and to his sheer horror he could hear himself whinging. He hadn't whinged in years.

"That's not my problem," said Uncle Vernon as he hung up the phone. There was a resounding click and then a dial tone.

Harry stared at the phone in his hand and wondered what to do. It was only a short walk to Diagon Alley, so he picked up his trunk and proceeded to make his way there. The trunk was heavy in his hand, but he trudged along. Many people stared at him, with his uniform and his trunk, but no one offered to help him. After asking Tom the bartender to watch his trunk, he made his way to Gringotts. He stood in line and waited behind the many witches and wizards that were there.

"I need to see somebody about my vault," he said to the goblin after he waited in line for fifteen minutes. He'd grab some money and try to rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron. They rented it to him last year, it shouldn't be a problem this year, right?

Without even looking up the goblin said, "Name?" His name plate said his name was Snarlfist.

"Harry Potter," said Harry as quietly as he could. He already had people looking at him and he didn't want to confirm their suspicions by blurting out his name. That might start a meet and greet that he didn't want to deal with. Or they might want to know what happened to Cedric, and he wanted to deal with that even less.

Snarlfist looked up and gave him the once over. He got a greedy look in his eyes. "Oh, you are special case," said the goblin. "You're going to go see Garbling. He will take good care of you," he finished, picking up a large book and running his finger down the lines of text there. He nodded his head and then pushed a rune on his counter.

Harry didn't like that look in the goblin's eyes. "Who is Garbling?" asked the dark-haired teen, who was getting very concerned over the goblin's actions. Why was he a special case? He was just Harry. Well, he had just won the Triwizard Tournament, but that was not something he wanted to be remembered for. Voldemort was back and he had to prepare for that, he really didn't have time for all this.

"That's your account manager," Snarlfist said, looking up from his reading and glaring at Harry, like he thought the boy had left.

Harry stared back. "Since when do I have an account manager?" he asked, trying to read the book upside down, but it was in goblin language. Frustrated, he blew his bangs out of his face and looked at the goblin again.

"Since you became an adult," Snarlfist stated, like the boy was simple.

Harry threw his hands in the air and declared, "Everybody keeps saying I turned into an adult. When did that happen?" He had no idea what was going on. He didn't want to be an adult. He wanted to be a teenager and all that entailed.

This time the goblin's eyes softened, when he realized the kid didn't know what was happening to him, so he explained, "When your name came out of the Goblet of Fire, you became emancipated."

"How does that even happen?" the teen asked, shocked over this reveal.

"A magical artifact declared you old enough to participate into a contest that was only for legal adults or of age people. Therefore, you are now emancipated," Snarlfist proclaimed, like it was magical, which it was.

"That doesn't make a lick of sense. I'm only fourteen years old," Harry protested yet again.

Now the teller was getting frustrated. It wasn't his job to coddle emotional teenage humans. He had enough to deal with the angry adult ones. "Look, human, it's not up to me to declare these things. A magical artifact declared you of age, therefore you are now an adult. You are therefore legally bound to participate in all things all adults are legally bound to contribute to," he snarled, thumping his fist on the counter, making everything there bounce and spill, which made him more angry. He started picking it all up and jamming it back into place.

"Such as?" Harry said, also upset.

"That will be up to you and Garbling to discuss." He finished straightening up his counter and glared at Harry again.

"Fine, when can I see this Garbling?" Harry asked, wanting to slam his fist on the counter and spill everything again.

"He is available in twenty minutes. Go wait over there," Snarlfist said, pointing to a large bench by a set of double doors at the far side of the bank.

"Fine."

So, Harry sat on the double bench next to the double doors and waited for this Garbling to come get him. With each minute he waited, his anger and anxiety grew. He still had no idea what was going on, or what he was going to do about it. Voldemort was something he needed to deal with, not this financial stuff. But his uncle kicked him out and he needed money to live, so now he had to jump through all these hoops to get it. Exactly twenty minutes later, he was led to an office that had inordinate doors with the name Potter written on it.

"Enter," said the voice from inside. Sitting behind a large desk was a small goblin that had a triangular beard and a tiny little mustache. He was scribbling away on some parchments and waved to a chair in front of the desk for Harry to sit.

"Are you Garbling?" asked Harry as he took the seat. He was hot under the collar with being made to wait and having the teller yell at him.

"I am he," Garbling said, still writing on his parchmentwork. "Sit and wait there. I'll be with you in a minute." He never even looked up from what he was doing, which Harry thought was beyond rude.

"Can you tell me what the hell is going on?" Harry asked, thinking if the goblin was going to be rude, so was he.

"I said wait; I'll be with you in a minute," snapped the goblin, making bolder strokes with his quill.

Seeing he wasn't going to get his answers right now, Harry settled, sulking in his chair and said, "Fine."

A few minutes later, the goblin finished scrawling what he was scribbling and looked up and said to Harry, "So you're emancipated now? What are you going to do about it?" There was a glint in his eyes that Harry had seen in many goblins' eyes.

"I don't even know what emancipation means. I mean, I understand that it makes me an adult, but I don't understand what that entails," Harry practically wailed, throwing his hands in the air.

"It means you're free to live on your own, practice magic, pay your taxes…" was as far as Garbling got when Harry interrupted.

"Taxes. What do you mean by taxes? I don't even know what taxes are. All I know is that they give my uncle headaches at the end of the year," the confused teenager said, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He knew he was going to leave this office with a headache.

"It means that you must pay taxes to the government at the end of each quarter. This is what pays the government," the manager stated in a calm voice, like he was teaching a newborn how to crawl. "Every able-bodied adult has to pay them."

Harry sighed, he had heard that from his uncle as well, "How much are they?"

"That all depends on how much your wealth is," Garbling informed him.

"Well, how much is my wealth?"

"You, my dear boy, are very wealthy man," the manager said with the glint in his eyes.

"Exactly how wealthy?" asked Harry, getting his own glint. The things he could do with money.

"Well, let's see, in your trust vault you have approximately 10,000 galleons…" Garbling said, only to be stopped once again by his client.

"Trust vault?"

"Yes, the vault you use for your school supplies. That is your trust vault. In your family vault you have well over 2,000,000 galleons," he said, with a sense of pride.

"Wow, I didn't realize I was that rich. Does that mean I can live anywhere I want to?" Harry asked with pound signs in his eyes. He'd do galleon signs, but he didn't know those. He could just see himself living the life of luxury.

"No, your parents left a clause in their will stating that you were only able to spend a certain amount of money at a time, until you turn twenty-one," the goblin stated, bringing Harry's world crashing down.

"Why would they leave such a will?" Harry asked, saddened by that news.

"Let's just say that the Potters in the past have been known to spend extravagantly," Garbling said, shuffling parchments on his desk until he found the will.

"I didn't even know my parents had a will. And if they did, why was I left with the Dursleys?" Harry asked, knowing that they would never have put him there. He was sure they would have sent him to a magical family, if not Sirius.

"The will did not cross my desk until November 1st. According to this will, you were supposed to be left with one Sirius Black," the manager said, reading the will and finding the right passage.

"Does this mean we can get Sirius free?" Harry asked, bouncing with excitement. He dreamed of ways to get his godfather free. Never would he have thought it could be this easy or expensive. He was sure it was going to be costly in that he was going to need legal help.

"You can hire a solicitor and see if you can get him exonerated," the goblin said, handing him over a copy of the will that he created with a wave of his hand.

"You bet your arse I will," Harry stated, tucking the copy in his robe and thinking of how he would go about hiring a solicitor. Where did he even find one? "What else can I do?"

Garbling thought about it for a moment as he looked at the very young adult in his office. He felt for the boy. He was going to be learning some hard lessons soon. "Well, you must find lodging. Your family had some property, but the house was destroyed in the war. The land is still there, and what you're paying taxes on. And Godric's Hollow was turned into a monument when you survived the Killing Curse. So, you must fend for yourself. You only have 500 galleons to spend a month."

"That sucks, about the property. I should build a house, but that's for later. How much is the average rent?" Harry wanted to know, going over some numbers in his head. He wanted to wait to build on the property until he got with someone who knew what they were doing. He was going to build a mansion there, and he was not equipped to do that alone. He'd seen the Weasley house, and he didn't want something like that. Wicked as it was, it wasn't for him.

"Approximately 50 galleons."

"That's not too bad. That means food will be approximately 10 galleons. How much is taxes?" the teenager asked, still doing the math. If he was frugal, then he would have money left over for the solicitor.

"Now see, that's where it gets tricky. You can pay anywhere from 50 to 200 galleons every quarter. It all depends on how much you spend or how much you donate," his manager explained, picking up some parchment and showing him some charts that he didn't understand.

"Donate. Why would I want to donate?" Harry asked, having never understood why people donated large amounts of money to the poor. He never had the money to do that.

"To save on taxes."

"So I have to give away money to save money on taxes. That doesn't make any sense."

"Would you like the money to go to a good cause or do you want it to go to the government?" Garbling asked, fingering his triangular beard.

"I'll have to think on that," said Harry, wondering what else would come along to trip him up.

"Do you want to buy a house and pay a mortgage, or do you want to rent a flat?" was the next question.

"Which would be better?" Harry asked, honestly wanting his opinion.

"A house is a good investment, but it has a maintenance cost. Renting a flat is not a good investment, but there is no maintenance cost," was the honest answer.

"I think, because I'm so young, that I'd rather rent a flat," the teenager said, thinking that he didn't want to maintain a house right now. Besides, his taste might change soon. Besides, he still had his own property to build on later. He didn't need a new one to pay taxes on.

"Very well. Do you want to own a house elf? Because you're so young, you might need one to tend to your needs," Garbling asked, worried the boy might starve to death, not knowing how to cook.

"I have a friend who's a house elf. I'm sure that I can hire him on," Harry said, brightening at the idea of having Dobby around.

"Hire on a house elf? I've never heard of such a thing," the confused goblin said, looking at him queerly.

Harry put a disgusted look on his face and said, "We're friends. I would never put him into slavery. Besides, he's a free elf. I freed him from his master two years ago." Now he had a proud look on his face.

"And he's not dead yet?" the still confused goblin inquired.

"What do you mean 'he's not dead yet'?" Harry asked, horrorstricken.

"House elves cannot live without a master," Garbling explained, making calming gestures. Obviously, no one told the boy.

"Oh," Harry said, taking a deep breath. He'd get with Dobby straight away and talk to him. "I'll have to talk to him about that. But anyway, I can take care of myself. I know how to cook and clean," he said, puffing out his chest like a proud papa.

"Very well then you talk to your friendly house elf, and we'll see what else we need to maintain your household," Garbling stated, relieved that the boy could tend to his own needs and had a house elf. He figured the elf bound himself to the boy on the sly. They were sneaky buggers when they wanted to be. "Now, you want to hire a solicitor? You'll have to figure out how to do that on your own. We do not do that here at Gringotts. I can point you in the correct direction, but the rest is up to you." He gave him a list of the ones that the bank kept on retainer.

"Thank you," Harry said, putting the list in his robes. He'd do that right away, after he talked to Dobby.

Garbling looked at his watch and nodded. He had spent enough time with Potter, so he hurried it along. "You'll have to be able to buy your own furniture, buy your own cooking utensils, buy your own food. Most of this can be done via your house elf, but he's going to need to know how to budget and you're going to need to budget 500 galleons a month."

"Thanks, I think. Do I need to pay utilities?" Harry asked, wondering how much that was going to cost.

"That's between you and your landlord."

"Right. Are there places to rent in Diagon Alley?"

"There are a few above the shops but most of the places to rent are already taken, I'm sure. It is quite a popular place," the manager said, looking down his nose at the obtuse boy.

"Right. So, I might have to rent in the muggle world."

"Yes, unless you want to rent in Knockturn Alley."

"Isn't that the place where dark witches go?" Harry asked, looking at the goblin warily.

"And wizards, yes."

"Why would I want to rent there? I'm just a kid." He could just picture the room he'd have to rent there. It would be dark and gloomy, with werewolves and vampires as neighbors.

"All I'm saying is that's where all the free flats are," Garbling stated, holding up his hands in a 'what can I say' gesture.

"I think I'll investigate the muggle area, but I don't know of any places that would rent to a kid. Can I hire a solicitor to rent for me?" Harry asked, rubbing his head for the ache that was forming behind his eyes.

"That's between you and your solicitor."

"Is there anything you can help me with?" Harry asked, grumping at the goblin, who hadn't been overly helpful.

"I've already helped you with everything I can help you with. I can tell you what your budget is and help you with your taxes," Garbling stated a bit indignant. He thought he'd helped the boy above and beyond what was expected of him.

"Well, I thank you for your time," Harry said, politely. He got up and left the room and made his way to the lobby.

And with that, Harry left the bank, starting on a new adventure of finance and adulting.