Chapter 3:

Master Potter

When Harry asked for normalcy, Molly initially protested, but then she reconsidered. Paired with Ron, fresh air and sunshine were likely the best medicine for Harry. Farm chores with the Weasleys were far different from working under the Dursleys. Here, he was working with Ron and, today, Arthur—not alone while others did nothing. Ron and his dad were talking, sometimes even joking. Harry was included and welcome, though he was quiet. The Weasleys managed to coax a few smiles from him throughout the day, which Arthur considered a win.

Dinner was ready shortly after Fred and George arrived. Molly announced that Bill would be working late, so it was time to gather around. The table was filled with shepherd's pie, fresh bread, and an assortment of vegetables. The twins were happy to see Harry at the table but quickly noticed the subdued atmosphere. They were confused, to say the least.

Arthur noticed the difference immediately. After exchanging a knowing glance with Molly, he tapped his glass to get everyone's attention. "Alright, alright. Let's clear the air a bit. Yes, Harry has come to stay for a bit, and that's a good thing." He looked directly at Harry, who sat with Ron on his right and Ginny on his left. "You've been, and always will be, welcome."

He addressed his children. "He's been here often, so that's nothing unusual. He's here earlier this year, but when have any of my children minded getting a treat early? He's here for different reasons, but those reasons are personal. Each and every one of you has needed some alone time and private chats with your mother and me before. This is Harry's turn."

"Now, some of you are closer to each other," he glanced at Ron and Ginny, "and that's good. In the coming days, I imagine we'll all have some... uncomfortable conversations. That's life. But every one of us here is going to support the rest. And I hope that's the normalcy of our family. There's enough understanding—and I dare say grace—at this table for everyone. So, no walking on eggshells. No fear of saying the wrong thing. We're all family here, so let's just be normal. That's exactly what we need right now. What do you think, Harry?"

For a moment, Harry felt the slight pressure of being singled out. But it was quickly overshadowed by Arthur's warm, accepting look, the kind Harry had never seen before. Ron, already nodding in agreement (his mouth full), and Ginny, who rested her hand on Harry's knee in support and gave him a kind smile, made Harry feel more at ease.

"Normalcy would be brilliant, sir."

A sigh of relief swept across the table.

But with that setup, Ron couldn't let it go. With a hearty clap on Harry's shoulder, he looked him dead in the eyes and said, "No guarantees, mate." Harry smiled.

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly scolded, though she started to grin when she saw all five of her children laugh. She let it slide; it was the right joke at the right time, perfect for Ron. She exchanged a knowing look with Arthur, who was already sipping his butterbeer. They both silently agreed that everything would be alright.

Supper and the evening returned to something resembling normalcy. Ron took Harry to the chessboard and thoroughly beat him, but Harry wouldn't have had it any other way. It helped that they could take their time planning moves without anyone thinking it odd. While they played, Fred and George approached.

"Don't know, don't need to know," Fred said, setting a cold butterbeer in front of Harry.

"But it's a rare day when one of these doesn't help," George added, placing a second beer beside him.

They both gave Harry a firm clap on the opposite shoulders before heading off to discuss shop business. Harry passed one beer to Ron. As Ginny caught sight of the twins on the stairs, she gave Harry a passing glance and whispered to them as they climbed. "You've got a nice family, Ron."

"You heard Dad. It's your family too," Ron smiled as he cracked open his drink. "Now shut up and move." Harry chuckled.

Shortly afterward, Molly entered. "Harry, your owl arrived," she said with a smile, opening the window. Hedwig flew in and landed on the arm of a chair, seeming to watch the game intently.

After the round ended, Harry relented. "If you don't mind, I think I'll write a letter. Do you have any paper?"

"On the shelf over there," Ron gestured. "I'll head upstairs. You take your time."

Harry sat and stared at the blank page. He mostly didn't want Hermione to find out second-hand—she'd been too good a friend for that. But how do you write a letter like this? He tried anyway.

Hermione,

Hi, it's been a long couple of days for me. Today was the longest and worst, but in the end, I'm hopeful it will turn out for the better. Mostly, I want to let you know I'm at the Weasleys now. Yes, this early. There's a lot to go over, but I'd rather do that in person. Suffice to say, I'm done with the Dursleys. I know this sounds like a lot, because it is. But I'm okay-ish? At least, I think this is a better place to get okay.

I do hope you're having a good summer. Feel free to write back. Even if you don't know what to say, it's nice to know you're thinking of me.

Harry

Breakfast was a quicker affair, as many of the Weasleys had things to do. Fred, George, and Ginny went to the shop, while Ron stayed to help Molly with chores, and Arthur and Harry were heading out. Several glasses of pumpkin juice and toast were quickly consumed, some literally flying in a wizard house. Arthur kissed Molly goodbye and turned to Harry. "Ready? Got your pack, wand, and key?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "Thank you again, Mrs. Weasley."

"Harry, you're welcome. And you're coming back later today," she reassured him. "You boys take care of what you need."

Once they had Disapparated to Diagon Alley, Harry couldn't hold back his questions. "Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What are we doing here? You make it sound like it's more than just a withdrawal."

"I don't plan on making any withdrawal, Harry."

"Okay, so what are we doing?"

Arthur smiled. "Well, Harry, call me crazy, but you're no longer an eleven-year-old boy."

Harry snickered. "No, sir, I'm not."

"I've noticed. But I'm afraid I may be the only one who did. Quite simply," he turned to face Harry, "and through no fault of yours, there are many questions that haven't been asked. There are things you should know. But because no one…" he stopped. Arthur took the moment and kindly held Harry by the shoulders, "No one has taken the privilege of seeing the young man you've grown into, they haven't told you. And you don't even know the questions to ask. So… I will."

Harry only understood part of what Arthur said, but it warmed his heart. "Thank you, sir."

They made their way to Gringotts, still impressive to Harry. Arthur smiled mildly in appreciation, but he'd long since learned that not everything that glitters is valuable. They took their turn in line, and when they reached the teller, Arthur smiled broadly. "Hello," he greeted cheerfully.

The goblin looked at him with disdain. "How can I help you?"

Still cheerful, Arthur replied, "Yes, Master Harry Potter would like a Statement of Accounts, please." He plainly introduced Harry.

Harry tried to hide his shock, but his frustration from the previous day helped him maintain a neutral expression. He did his best to hold it together.

"And..." Arthur raised a finger. "He'll very likely have some questions. Like why he hasn't received one in..." turning to Harry, "how long has it been, sir? Five years?"

"Ten, more likely," Harry corrected.

"Fifteen, actually. Fifteen years without an accounting. I imagine the Master will have many questions. Would you like us to wait here, or would you prefer to show us somewhere so your other patrons aren't delayed?" Arthur continued smiling.

The goblin eyed them both closely. "Wand for identification, please." Harry drew his wand, and the goblin waved his own wand over it.

"One moment," the goblin muttered before climbing down from his station.

In a hushed whisper, Harry panicked. "Mr. Weasley, what are we doing?"

Arthur reassured him with an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Relax, Harry. We're doing nothing wrong. You're entitled to know what's happening with your estate."

"I know I'm rich... I don't really care."

Arthur's smile widened and patted Harry's shoulder. "And that's one of the reasons I love you, Harry. But 'rich' is not just a number. You deserve the number. You deserve answers. And I intend to get as many as I can for you."

Still whispering, Harry asked, "But why did you call me 'master'?"

Arthur looked at Harry, almost doting on him. "Everyone's been so focused on your education, no one's thought to actually raise you and teach you anything. No matter, we'll sort that too."

Returning to speaking to the young man, Arthur said, "Harry, you are the last descendant of a great and long wizarding family, and in little over a year, you will be the legal adult in control of it. You are absolutely the Master of House Potter."

Arthur saw an older goblin, dressed in a better suit, walking towards them. "And I think it's high time you started to learn what that entails."

"Master Potter, I am Rockup, Manager of Accounting," the goblin greeted in a low, gravelly voice.

Harry nodded in respect. "Hello, sir, and thank you for your time today."

The courtesy caught him off guard, but Rockup continued. "I understand you would like an accounting and review of our communications. Please, come to my office."

Arthur leaned in toward Harry's ear. "Whatever these numbers are, it would be best to remain calm, even bored."

"Right."

Rockup led them down a side hall and to the first door on the left, which bore his name and title. He gestured toward a pair of chairs in front of his desk. After they sat, the goblin handed them a page titled Harry James Potter Trust. Rockup explained, "These figures are accurate as of the end of the second quarter. You will find the present balance, both in holdings and available allowances."

Harry looked at the page. He recognized the numbers, and he was grateful that Arthur had prepared him to remain calm. But as many of the terms were new to him, he realized he didn't fully understand the meaning of the sheet.

Arthur, however, read intently. "Yes, this will suffice nicely… for his educational account."

Harry looked up from the page to Arthur.

Arthur continued, "Master Potter is planning for his coming of age. He would like a full Statement of Account for all assets of House Potter under this establishment's management… please." Arthur clarified, still smiling.

Rockup grumbled slightly. "One moment." He left his chair and exited the office.

"Mr. Weasley, what's going on?" Harry whispered.

"Banking, Harry. Modern goblin banking," Arthur sighed.

A few moments later, Rockup returned with a leather-bound ledger bearing a black shield emblem with a knight's helmet above it. The goblin opened the pages closer to the back and turned it around for them to read. "Again, these figures are accurate as of the close of the second quarter. I apologise, but this copy must stay here as it is the master file. If you grant me some time, I can have a copy made for you. Or perhaps next time, if you make an appointment."

Arthur nodded. "A very good point. My apologies, Master Potter."

In the most uncomfortable sentence Harry had ever said, he played along. "Don't let it happen again."

The numbers in the House Potter estate dwarfed Harry's educational trust.

"I will remind you that while you have every right to the records, House Potter finances are not accessible until Master Potter's 17th birthday."

"Understood," Arthur nodded. "And yes, Master Potter would like a copy drawn up for his records. But we can stop by…" He looked at Harry.

"I believe I can make Monday work… Arthur."

Rockup nodded. "Monday will be fine. Ask for me when you arrive." He looked plainly at the pair. "Anything else?"

Arthur continued to smile. "I am afraid so. You see, this entire trip would not have been necessary had Master Potter been receiving his quarterly statements. We would like to investigate why he has not, and rectify that."

Rockup grunted again. He turned the pages back in the Master Ledger. "Due to Master Potter's age at the beginning of the estate, all communication would have been sent to his legal wizard guardian… Sirius Black."

"Who was unavailable due to incarceration at Azkaban Prison and, more recently, has died," Arthur said, glancing at Harry. He could see Harry's knee bouncing nervously, but other than that, he was doing quite well.

"In fact," Harry added, jabbing his finger onto the goblin's table, "That's largely why we are here today."

Rockup looked at both humans before him. "Are you reporting the death of Sirius Black to me?"

"If you were otherwise unaware, then yes," Arthur continued, keeping his smile in place.

"One moment," Rockup said again, before leaving.

"How are you doing, Harry?"

"I'm fine. I don't mind talking about Sirius. Right now, my head is kind of spinning."

"You're a good lad, Harry. Don't worry. Just keep it up."

Soon, Rockup returned with an envelope and a second ledger. Harry recognized the crest on the ledger as something Sirius had on a ring. Rockup sighed as he read through the document labeled Last Will and Testament. "First, I must say, Gringotts will need to verify your claim of the passing of Master Black."

"Of course, check with the Ministry, 18th of June," Arthur nodded in understanding.

"Thank you," Rockup replied, taking a quill and noting it down. "Provided verification is received, then yes, the sole beneficiary of House Black is Master Potter."

He turned the ledger around so they could review it. Its figures were similar to those of Harry's family.

Arthur opened his mouth, but Rockup got ahead of him. "I will have copies available for you on Monday as well."

"Bless you," Arthur replied. "But now, back to the communication of future statements?"

Rockup read through the documents. "Hmm, I'm sorry, Master Potter, I do not see where Master Black appointed anyone as your representative in the event of his passing."

This time, Harry replied, "Well, I guess it's a good thing I've learned to read, then, isn't it?"

He looked coldly at the goblin.

Arthur continued to smile.

"Again, you will not have access to the Black estate until Gringotts can verify the passing of Master Black. You will not have access to the Potter estate until your 17th birthday. But I will have the next quarter's correspondence regarding all three accounts sent to you," Rockup summarised, sliding a form and quill in front of Harry. He pointed as he explained, "Name, address, signature, wand press, and signet ring."

Arthur corrected, "All future correspondence, for all assets, in perpetuity."

Rockup looked at the smiling redhead. "Of course," he replied.

Harry looked over to Arthur, who nodded approvingly. "I apologise, but I've not yet had my signet ring made."

Rockup studied the pair again. He opened the Potter ledger once more and read through it. "The signet ring of James Potter is included in your family vault. With the likely activity the Black Estate will have soon and the minimal time left before your 17th birthday, I am willing to release the ring to your possession. It will be available Monday."

"Along with all papers to all of Master Potter's assets, he will have all access rights to all of his accounts as soon as possible."

"So be it." Rockup agreed.

"Well, Master Potter, I think that does it, and another appointment awaits."

"Quite," Harry replied as he rose.

"Until Monday, gentlemen," Rockup said, standing and offering his hand to Arthur. "Good sir, well fought." Arthur shook it, smiled, and nodded, then gestured for Harry to lead the way.

Harry maintained his composure until they calmly walked out of the bank, but as soon as they were outside, he let out a breath he had been holding. Arthur was unfazed. "Mr. Weasley, I'm sorry if I went too far."

"Hmm? Whatever do you mean, lad? You were perfect there," he answered with a gentle pat on Harry's back.

"I called you Arthur."

"That's my name, Harry."

"But you're an adult."

"And you are becoming one too. Especially considering the circumstances, you did fabulously. Fancy a coffee?" Arthur asked, leading Harry into a corner café. He took a corner table and ordered two coffees, waiting for a moment of privacy.

"So why did Rockup say 'Well fought'? What happened there?"

"Well, Harry, I'll put it in terms you'll understand. Essentially, we dueled a goblin and won."

Arthur could tell from Harry's perplexed expression that he didn't understand.

"Goblins, in general, and Gringotts in particular, are…" he paused, thinking of the right word, "shrewd, cunning, and clever. They never lie. They don't need to. Most of the time, individuals don't pay attention enough to realise they've left themselves open to being taken advantage of. Always mind the details, Harry. Either the devil or the god is in the details, but you have to mind them to know which you have."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded reflexively.

"Let's start with the lack of your statements being sent. They were absolutely correct. With Sirius as your legal guardian, he should have been receiving them, but obviously couldn't. BUT, nothing specifically told them to do anything in that event… so they didn't."

"Why?"

"So you wouldn't know. Or forget, if you did know. Now, I don't know the specific timeframes, but I know that if you leave your accounts unattended long enough, it becomes their property."

"So, they were trying to rob me?"

"In a technical and realistic sense, yes. But in the slowest and most legal way possible."

Realizing the scope of what Arthur was doing, Harry sat back in his chair. "Mr. Weasley, thank you."

"Just doing my duty," he summed up with a pat on Harry's hand. "So, I believe you understand the delay of your House Potter account until you're of age?"

"Yes, sir. You said I was going to do advanced planning?"

"Well, I imagined you'd want to do something with it. To plan anything, you need to know the numbers. Now you do, now you can plan." Arthur took a drink then asked gently. "Were you aware of the Black Estate?"

Harry sighed. "No. Though Sirius and I were growing quite close, talking about living together and things. So it makes sense."

"And again, my condolences, Harry. But I'm glad you learned about it."

"Because if they could, Gringotts would try to slowly steal that too."

"Harry, that's their standard business model. They treat everyone fairly… by trying to take advantage of everyone."

"Mr. Weasley, how do you know all this?"

Arthur smiled. "Well, remember, I have a good twenty years on you. But mostly, goblins and I speak the same language."

"You speak goblin?"

"No!" Arthur laughed. "I work for the Ministry! I speak bureaucracy."

They both laughed, both from the joke and the relief of escaping a tense situation.

"So, he mentioned my father's signet ring?"

"I imagine it will be nice having something personal like that from your father. That was an added bonus, and I'm glad we found it for you."

"What's it for? Besides sentiment?"

"Your signet ring is your House signature. Your mark of approval. You'll use it for legal transactions and business dealings of larger amounts. You'll need it to take official possession of Sirius's estate."

With all the talk of estates and masters, an unsettling thought came to Harry's mind—one he wouldn't have had the nerve to say to Arthur a week ago.

"Mr. Weasley… I don't want to be like the Malfoys."

Arthur smiled warmly. "Then don't be. Harry, having the money doesn't make someone bad. It's when money has them—when it's their focus, their heart, their obsession—that's what makes monsters." Arthur sat forward. "Harry, you've lost so much—your parents, Sirius, your childhood. I don't want you to lose anything more. So, this is my first intervention: to ensure you have choices. In a little over a year, this is one of them. If you choose to leave it all in the vault, so be it. Give it a decade, leave it to your kids, or give it to charity. The point is, you make the decisions, build your life… because you darn well deserve it."

Harry's head was spinning, his heart aching. In the span of a single morning, Mr. Weasley had spoken more kindness and care than the Dursleys had in his whole life.

"Harry," Arthur continued, "I wasn't there. So, describe to me what you remember of your prior withdrawals from the bank."

Thinking back, Harry replied, "Well, the first time was my first year in school. Hagrid brought me straight from the Dursleys. We spoke with one of the goblins. Hagrid gave me my vault key. We went down. I took a handful of galleons. There was a stop at a second vault for the school, but I'm sure you've heard about that. The years following weren't much different except for second year when Mrs. Weasley took me down. I've done the trip a couple of times by myself."

"Hagrid just gave you the key?" Arthur sighed. "Simple child logic," he muttered, shaking his head. "And don't misunderstand me, Harry. I have no disrespect for Hagrid. I'm sure he was just doing what he was told. Now, I agree there was no need to bog down an 11-year-old with," he gestured to the sheet from the bank, "this, but sometime between then and now, conversations should have been had with you."

Arthur laid the sheet out for Harry to read, pointing to it line by line. "This is the total in your trust vault, which is basically your school account. Harry, were you aware you had a monthly allowance?"

"Like, I'm allowed so much each month?"

"Exactly!" Arthur said. "See? You would understand all this fine if someone had just sat down and told you."

"It looks like you were allotted 500 Galleons a month from when you started your first year. As you've only been making withdrawals once a year for school, you have the vast majority of that open to you," Arthur pointed to the sheet.

"And here are recent deposits made from one Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Looks like the memo on it says, 'Profit sharing.'" Arthur's cheerful smile turned to a sly grin.

"Mr. Weasley, I—I…" Harry stammered.

"Harry, it's alright," Arthur's smile returned. "Molly and I found out a while back. Never you mind how. It was after the fact, so little point in arguing it. And when it comes down to it, you were at least helping your friends, which is all we can try to do in life. If anything, I'm rather pleased to see my boys being responsible enough to respect your investment and pay you your due." He paused to raise a finger. "I will ask you not to make a habit of this."

A relieved Harry replied, "Yes, sir."

Arthur led them back to the Leaky Cauldron Floo and flamed back to the Burrow. After a quick lunch, Arthur told Harry, "Put your stuff away and come out to the barn. There's something else I want to show you."

By the time Harry was up, down, and out to the barn, Arthur had swept the corner. "Grab that tarp over there. Help me stretch it out." Harry did as told, including grabbing a trunk from the loft and bringing it down.

Arthur took a knee. "Now, Harry, as you know, this family is a Quidditch-loving family. But in my youth, I did flirt with another sport. You grew up with the Muggles. Tell me," he opened the trunk and pulled out a pair of worn leather gloves. "What do you know about boxing?" he asked with a grin.

"Um, next to nothing, sir."

"Well, this should be fun. Hop up to the loft and next to where the chest was, you should see what looks like a duffel bag but made of leather." Harry brought it down and helped hang it over the center of the tarp floor they had laid.

"Hold your hands out. I'll help you strap these on."

He was confused, but Harry followed along. Arthur took a breath. "Harry, be honest with me. How angry have you been?"

Harry raised his hand in surrender. "Sir! Never! You've been brilliant!"

"No, no, no. Not with me or us," Arthur pointed to the farm. "With life. Any single tragedy you've suffered would be grounds for being pissed off. You've suffered them all. Don't tell me you're not."

The young man started getting choked up with guilt, and Arthur could see it. "This isn't a guilt trip, Harry… This is therapy. This is a vent. I know for a fact you have rage. Against your relatives, against You-Know-Who, against fate itself. You have every reason to be angry. And frankly, my greatest concern is that all that anger is going to burn you up from the inside. You've had so damn many things happen to you, and then you have your relatives literally pack you in a box. Punch the bag."

Harry did, barely.

"Oh, you can do better than that. You're not going to break it. This is literally what it's here for. Punch the bag."

Harry put more force into it.

"Getting there," Arthur nodded in approval. "But I could do better. Put some energy into it."

Harry slowly started getting into a flow, with Arthur circling, watching, and coaching. "C'mon Harry! You are a strapping sixteen-year-old man at the height of his prime. Beat the hell out of it. Imagine their faces on the bag. Give 'em what they deserve. Yell at them. Scream at them. Tell them what you really think of them. GET IT OUT, Harry!"

Harry's form was absolutely horrible, but Arthur didn't care. He could see the young man going faster and harder. He started quiet, but once he realized he wasn't getting in trouble, Harry finally let the dam break. Harry swung wildly, he screamed, he swore, he roared at the injustices he'd felt. With every single one, Arthur nodded approvingly.

Ten minutes went by, then twenty. After thirty minutes, Harry started sucking wind. After forty-five minutes of screaming and beating the hell out of memories, he broke down into a blubbering mess. Arthur literally caught him as he slid off the punching bag in tears. "There, there. Let it out, Harry. You're fine, man. You're a good man, Harry, let it go," the father comforted, holding him until Harry had nothing left.

Then Arthur grabbed a hay bale and pulled it over to sit on. He kept an arm around Harry's back as Harry hunched over with his knees to his elbows. "How do you feel?"

Still catching his breath, Harry managed, "Better… lighter."

"Good," Arthur agreed with a strong pat to the back. "This corner of the barn is yours. We're leaving that bag up. Whenever it gets to you, whenever the frustrations are bad, you come out here and punch the hell out of it."

He let Harry catch his breath and take his gloves off. "Alright then, now the legs," Arthur said, leading Harry back outside. "See that fenceline?" He pointed to a moss-covered stone wall, hip-high.

"Yes, sir."

"That's the property line. Keep to the right of it, and you're still on the Burrow. The fence goes all the way behind the orchard, around the pond, and back. It's a good mile. A lot larger than a cupboard under the stairs, filled with sunshine and fresh air. Give it a run. When you get back, come get washed up. We should be ready for supper."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded as he started running. Arthur watched him for as long as he could, until Harry was around a bend, then walked back inside. There, waiting in the doorway, was Molly, her face filled with a loving expression.

"You're a good man, Arthur Weasley," she greeted him with a kiss.