To Ride the Carousel Again

Chapter 33

Disclaimer: Rights to the Harry Potter universe are owned by
J.K. Rowling and other well-healed corporations.
I receive no material compensation for this work.

Where our intrepid Hero treks off to far London Town
to find his fortune.

Do not take any of the financials used or mentioned in this story as financial advice or taxation advice. It will probably be wrong, as my interpretation of the internet search results of HMG inheritance/tax codes for 1992-1993 is, for me, very difficult to impossible to make sense of.

Approx. 7,300 words

She paused a moment to self-check herself that she had not forgotten anything before continuing. "You know advanced spells, you know powerful advanced spells. You knew Malfoy wanted to plant that evil little diary on Ginny Weasley, and you just said that the two brothers that are petrified are not part of the Malfoy plot."

She did not like the picture her logic was painting for her. However, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, . .

"Harry, how old are you?"

She felt every muscle in his body lock up.

"Oh, shitte!"

Still Monday, after the age reveal, December 28, 1992.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and very quietly said, "Fourteen."

It was an interesting situation. Hermione did not dare to move, and Harry was preparing to throw her on the floor and cover her with his body to prevent her from being incinerated by a lightning bolt or something from above.

He did not know what else to do. He had violated the one huge stricture that Upper Management had laid upon him. Now it was a matter of finding out what the punishment for breaking that secrecy would be.

The two adolescents sat there frozen. One of them afraid if she moved it would break the spell holding Harry still at the moment. The other was awaiting disaster.

It was minutes before either moved and it was Harry who relaxed his taut muscles. From somewhere his brain remembered that Hermione was with him in the Forbidden Forest next spring when Lupin had attacked them both in his werewolf form.

And they had both died. That meant Hermione had been alive up until then. So, maybe Erzelkendis had not blasted them both into pieces today?

Harry didn't know what to think now. Maybe Hermione could figure out what was going on with the returned-in-time thingy? That is if he could tell her. She hadn't died at his confession, so-o-o, maybe, he had gotten away with it because she was his Soul Mate?

Maybe if he kissed her? To find out if she was his Soul Mate? Then he would be allowed to tell all this to his Soul Mate. Did this mean that? But what if she didn't want him to kiss her? They were kind of young to be doing boyfriend/girlfriend things of the type Harry saw in the common room constantly.

Hermione sat very quietly in Harry's lap. She knew, and could actually feel, a titanic battle was being fought by Harry. His breathing was laboured, his body wracked by micro-twitches. "Another panic attack?" If she had not been planted on his lap, he would have been pacing a hole in the floor.

"Or running away as fast as possible," she thought.

At the moment, Harry's thoughts had switched over to thinking about that possibility. But, as his panic bloom started to fade because nothing bad had happened, he was still afraid of what his confession had done to their friendship.

He had done some thinking on that question. Being only one year older than her should be well within her comfort range. And technically he had not had a fifteenth birthday, although he had lived enough days . . . . The thinking involved gave Harry headaches.

Not as bad as his scar headaches but . . . . That set off a memory string. Possessed Quirrell had made his scar ache when he was nearby last year. This year, the diary gave him tremendous pain from his scar. The Room of Requirement gave him a low-grade headache if he used it too long. Again, from his scar.

Even on the trip to his Potter Family vault he had gotten a mild scar throb headache from being near the oldest vaults protected by the dragon. "I wonder . . . Humpf, I've been slacking off. I better dig out my notes from Upper Management."

While Harry was thinking, Hermione had stayed frozen. Yes, she had ruthlessly pruned away all the illogical branches her logical mind had created on her decision tree until she had concluded;

First, Harry had found some exotic magic in his family vault after becoming Lord Potter. (This solution was the one she most hoped for. It would mean her life should not become even more complicated.)

Second, Lupin was a beyond-excellent tutor. (She didn't think he was that good.)

Third, Harry was a time traveler, with a possible dimension shift tossed in. (Could this mean he wasn't her Harry. The philosophical implications made her head behind her eyes hurt.)

"Number three. Why did it have to be number three?" The thought roiled through her mind. "At least fourteen meant he wasn't some pervy old man. Although having to go through his teenage years living again with a mass of teenagers would have been awful."

Since she did not want to think about time travel for a minute, she examined that last thought for a moment. "At least I would not. The learning part is good, but Malfoy all over for seven years again? And puberty? Or . . ."

A horrible thought struck her. Knowing the classes and having to sit through them again would kill her. Binns droning through History of Magic, again? Repeat Potions with Snape as the instructor? She shuddered, and because she did, Harry hugged her closer.

It struck her that one of her supporting suppositions had become true. "He was so good at his classwork because he had done it before! He's been cheating!"

She stiffened again, making Harry clutch her closer.

"No, that wasn't true. He still needs my help with his essays and his theory. But they were so much better than last year. But that would mean he hadn't been a very good student, and she . . ."

At that point, she was chasing so many thoughts whipping around her brain that it locked up. She found she couldn't follow a line of logic before her mind skittered off down a different path.

As her forebrain failed, her hindbrain decided that this position, and being held by her Harry, was quite nice. and maybe, just maybe, she should not be so quick to move away.

Between the amount of magic she had pushed into Harry earlier, and the shock his revelation had dealt her mind performance, it was perhaps unsurprising that she drifted into a light doze.

As long as he held her, nothing could go wrong.

In possibly the hardest thing she had ever done, Hermione Granger, the know-it-all swot, the girl who once she decided she wanted to know about something pursued it until she had wrung out the something's secrets to her satisfaction, kept from questioning Harry about his revelation that night, the next day and Wednesday also.

Harry had at first been terrified she was going to ambush him to surprise answers from him about the future. He was thoroughly discombobulated, that on Monday night as he left her at her parents, she told him she would not demand answers until after his meetings on Wednesday.

"Wednesday is very important to you, Harry. I don't want you exhausting yourself worrying about me demanding answers from you. Go get your mother's legacy, and we will go on from there."

"Besides, she thought to herself. "At the moment I now know something. But I don't know what to say, what questions to ask, and most importantly, how did you do it, Harry? Are you a reborn, a time traveler, or someone from a different dimension? I need some Panadol. Mum must have some around here somewhere."

Harry had barely been back to The Manor when an ethereal, silvery grim-like dog appeared in front of him.

His godfather's voice started immediately. "Harry, I've an idea on how to possibly force a solution to the problems you've been having with your mum's legacy. Just owl your Manager at Gringotts for a half-eight appointment tomorrow morning, alright?"

Hedwig was Gringotts bound in less than fifteen minutes.

Harry had no idea what his godfather was up to but he would trust him. Lupin had watched it all and remarked they had best make an early night of it as it now looked like Tuesday would be busy.

Harry went to sleep thinking he had to have a way to contact Sirius in a hurry if he needed to.

Tuesday morning, just before half eight had Sirius meeting Harry and Lupin at the Leakey Cauldron and they made their way through the cold and drizzle to Gringotts.

They were shown to Tongueripper immediately.

There, Sirius laid out his plan. He would have the Black Overseer Account Manager create a document that showed Arcturus Black of House Black Investments had made a loan of G18,000 (£630,000.00) to Lily Potter and James at four percent per annum interest, compounded, and the note was due on February 22, 1992. Compound interest calc. (G27,710.00)[£969,850.00]

Her estate would be legally bound to pay the note off. What they now needed was a way to be able to transfer the funds by ekelektrionics so the mugg . . . mundanes would believe the money was still in their side of the world, yet be to where Gringotts could access the money.

The three humans looked at the grumpy Potter Account Manager. If they had to move the money physically, this idea would sink.

Tongueripper was rolling the plan over in his mind. The Plan's parts should fall into place. The Black Manager would go along with forgery part of the plan as Lord Black could replace him for not doing as 'requested'. Second, the plan was not breaking any rules of Gringotts as how a vault owner added money to his accounts. Third, he would be 'sticking it to the humans'. That was always a satisfying thing to do.

Last night, a Junior Account Manager named Poniard had brought him the name of what the muggles called a 'financial institution,' and for a small fee would contact the 'financial institution' so as to keep any muggle income taxes that had to be paid immediately would be a minimum.

The old Account Manager understood what the Junior was talking about as the Britannia wizarding government received ninety percent of its revenue from income tax as reported to the Ministry by the goblins. The remainder was from a very low materials import tax. Or an occasional very steep tax on some finished product imported that an old, powerful British family had a monopoly on supplying.

Tongueripper was now going to bargain the junior into accepting management of one of his smaller accounts as payment for the favor. After all, if he made Senior Account Manager again, he would have to pass his smaller accounts off anyway. 3 ea. Acct's Ch 15

If he didn't pass the account off, more senior organization managers would decide who to pass the management off to for favours of their own. Besides, if he passed them off, the accounts would make excellent bargaining for favours chits in the future. Favours he might want.

Tongueripper passed a parchment to Harry that had the name, address, and a contact at the 'financial institution' written on it. Showing it to Sirius and Lupin got him shrugs and head shakes. They would have to find out more themselves.

The other two left Sirius to his account manager meeting and Lupin apparated them to the Granger backyard.

After a short talk with Hector, he showed them into his office and used his computer to run a search for the Western Oriental Commercial and Mercantile Bank. They found the address of the bank was only two blocks from the office of Hogham and Hemmish.

Seeing the uncertainty in the pair of magicals, he offered to be their guide on Wednesday. His reason was, "In this weather, the best way to travel is the Tube and for that, you'll need some help. Especially where you're going. It's a real Big City dwellers place."

Everybody concerned made a point of not talking about Wednesday. Mindless Mario gaming was a useful distraction. Harry thinking Mario Kart was almost as much fun as flying his Nimbus 2000.

On Tuesday Harry found he had all types of available distractions. Helen and Hermione hauled him off to get a medium-quality suit off the rack. They added a white shirt, blue tie and matching pocket square to go with the dark grey of his new suit.

Helen said he would look quite 'spiffy' for his trip to The City. His Christmas tuxedo was for the British Dental Association, District 16, New Year's Day Ball. That dance was news to Harry. He had already received some bad press by not attending the Ministry's Yule Ball.

And he remembered his disastrous attempt at dancing fourth year at the Yule Ball.

Afterwards, Mario Kart and going on a fly with his broom kept him from panicking most parts of the day. A Dreamless Sleep potion had him getting a good night's sleep.

OooooovvvvvvoooooO

Wednesday morning found three very thoughtful magicals leaving the office of Seven Years a Magical after an hours' meeting.

Harry was carrying a briefcase that contained all his 'I am a Mundane' paperwork folders. Jeremy had thrown it in as part of the mundane world disguise the group needed. Expansion space robe pockets, to hold folders of parchment, were not part of the mundane world.

Harry and Remus had been very impressed with what Leighton had told them he had done. Every piece of paper that had to be original, was. And was properly aged. If it was a copy, it had been done by a mundane office copy machine with the appropriate small codes hidden on the paper.

Leighton had even included something no one else had thought about. Death certificates for James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans. Upon his reading them, they had hit Harry hard.

He gave them copies of records that showed he had been through the Child Services system. He also supplied them with copies of records that were now in the computer systems of the County and National Child Services systems.

He said the last was to let them read reports so they would know what supposed answers to questions they had supposedly given in the past. This included the reasons for the voluntary removal of the Dursleys as his guardians two years ago.

That was when Mr. Lupin, who had been named as a possible guardian for Harry in his parents' wills, had been found. His being abroad for several years when Harry's parents had died had precluded his being notified.

Remus quietly explained that he actually had been out of England during that time doing work for Dumbledore in Europe.

And the paperwork did not require the consent of the Dursleys as they had never actually been awarded any type of official guardianship of one Harald James Potter.

Harry was unhappy that now more people knew about his official name but it was right there on his birth certificate.

Lupin had also been given a slight electronic makeover to have him appear to be more financially stable than his werewolf condition actually allowed.

Also, Leighton had provided an address of a flat that if investigated would show Lupin and Harry had lived there for almost two years.

The three retreated to a room at the Leaky to go over the papers and memorize their stories to make sure everyone was on the same page. Harry called for Ypres and sent him to bring Hector to the pub. Hector walked in five minutes later.

He was the group's guide on how to get from Diagon Alley to the financial district in London known as The City. They would be traveling via The London Underground, or the Tube as it was called.

Hector was very familiar with the system. Remus had used it a bit in the past, but Harry and Sirius were totally ignorant of how to travel on it. Hector knew the trip to the solicitor's offices should take less than a half hour, but with the magicals in tow, he added fifteen minutes to the time needed.

They also had to stop at the bank whose address Tongueripper had given them. Harry had exchanged one hundred galleons for English pounds to create an account that would establish himself as a client at the bank.

Harry had been waiting for some type of bank fee for the conversion. He got a reluctant, growled explanation that the bank took in so much muggle money from the muggleborn's parents paying tuition and buying school supplies that they were pleased to find a way to get rid of it.

He made a mental note to find out why his mother had been charged such a steep fee back in 1981.

It was noon when the group left Charing Cross. They had eaten lunch, (Harry not so much. His nerves had his stomach in knots.) and walked a short distance to the station nearby.

The group was dressed casual-affluent. Sirius was under a disguise glamour. If he was needed as a representative of an adversarial House Black Investments later on, the mundane experienced three agreed that since cameras somewhere would have their pictures, it would be best if the mundanes could not recognize him as a person Harry might be friendly with.

Everyone was happy to get underground as the temperature was low and the wind was raw. Hector bought tickets for everyone and showed them how to use them.

It was only a four-minute ride to the station where they had to transfer to another line that would take them to The City. Getting off at their station in The City, they walked, cursing the weather, to the address of the Western Oriental Commercial and Mercantile Bank. (1)

As they entered the building, a doorman inquired as to their business. Upon being told they wanted to open a new account, and they had been told to ask for Mr. Kirit, he directed them to the second floor, with a row of small offices along the right-hand side of the atrium, third office in.

As they headed towards the office, Harry looked around curiously. The exterior of the building was a late Victorian-era design of some tan-coloured stone and exuded Old Money. The interior was up to date modern with clean-lined desks and sleek furnishings with metal, glass, and fabric accents.

Mr. Kirit was a thin, tall-ish dignified-looking, well-dressed man of perhaps Indian heritage whose black hair was developing distinguished-looking grey streaks back from his temples.

The group introduced themselves, and Lupin stated they had been told to ask for him by their friend, a Mr. Gringott. He further said that his ward, gesturing at Harry, was looking to open an account with the bank.

At that point, Sirius chimed in saying that he needed to also open an account, but it would have to be linked to at least one other account he had. He did not have his numbers with him, however, he would take the paperwork and have his bank fill it out and return it to Mr. Kirit.

Mr. Kirit had only barely tightened his eyes at the mention of whom their apparent mutual friend was.

The banker reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two short stacks of papers.

"If you would fill out these forms and present me with some identification, I will get you set up with an account here, Mr. Potter."

Harry hitched his chair up to the desk and got busy filling out the forms, Mr. Kirit started tapping on the keyboard of his computer.

Harry had to pass the form over to Lupin to have him affix his signature to the Parent/Guardian line on the form.

A request for Lupin's identification had the werewolf producing a British driver's license and the paperwork designating him as one Harald J. Potter's legal guardian. Both items now had an attachment for a changed address that matched the one provided by Jeremy Leighton.

At that point, Harry took an envelope out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and passed it over the desk to Mr. Kirit along with the forms, and his school records for identification.

The banker raised his eyebrows minimally when he was done counting the money and entering the three-thousand five hundred twelve pounds into the new account as Harry's initial deposit.

As Harry tucked away his new cheque book and savings account book, the adults shook hands all around with mutual comments about them all seeing each other in the future.

A two-block trudge through the now thoroughly miserable windy, drizzly weather had them seated in a small tea café on the ground floor of the tall marble and glass office building that housed Hogham and Hemmish.

After half an hour of mediocre tea and rubbery scones, the four made their way to the uniformed guard at the information desk near the elevators who directed them to the eleventh floor, suite 217.

Walking through the polished walnut and glass door that had Hogham and Hemmish, Solicitors written in gold leaf five minutes before their appointment time.

They entered a room that had rich-looking furniture and a perfectly groomed blonde receptionist behind a large black metal and acrylic curved desk with several computer monitors sitting on it. They were told Mr. Hepplewaite would be right with them.

Five minutes later they had to struggle out of the too-soft chairs in the receiving room to greet the young-ish man who strode out of the door in back of the receptionist's desk.

Leading them into a sumptuously appointed office, he bid them to sit in the comfortable dark brown leather, high-backed, armchairs around the front of his desk.
"Gentlemen, I am August Hepplewaite. I am substituting today for Mr. Carlisle Hamilton. He is abroad for the holidays, and will not return until after the weekend. However, since your account has some unique protocols that are to be initiated if she, Lily Potter, or her son, one Harald James Potter, ever showed themselves here, we are obliged to contractually follow them."

At Harry's name, Hamilton looked at Harry very directly. "Part of the protocols, as demanded by your mother, are certain identification methods are to be performed by Mr. Hamilton."

That had the Potter adults exchanging glances. Harry had kept staring at Hepplewaite. Something was setting off a quiet alarm bell in Harry's mind.

The solicitor asked Lupin for some of Harry's paperwork so that he could copy them for Mr. Hamilton so he might get a head start on the information needed to identify Harry.

Harry opened the briefcase and pulled out his folders. He pulled copies of his birth certificate, his mother's death certificate, and his official guardian transfer to Mr. Remus Lupin. Handing them over the desk, he caught a small frown on the solicitors' face.

The man looked at his computer screen and said he had set an appointment with Mr. Hamilton for 10 AM on Tuesday.

At that point, Lupin said, "Thank you Mr. Hepplewaite. Please pass on to Mr. Hamilton that we are under a time constraint as young Harry has to return to his school in Scotland Sunday after next. And his school is strict about personal interruptions to their students schooling."

Gathering up coats and Harry's briefcase the three headed back to the Underground station and Charing Cross.

After performing the purchase and quick fitting of a set of dressy robes for the Longbottom Ball in the Alley, they headed for Hermione's house.

OooooovvvvvvoooooO

At the Granger's house, Sirius went off to Gringotts with his bits of new information. Lupin mentioned he had a rental property visit to make and he disappeared.

Mr. Granger looked at Harry and asked if there was anything he wanted to talk about. Harry thought for a moment then stated he just needed some time to think about everything that had happened. Hector nodded and went off to his office to do some paperwork.

Harry sat on part of the parlour loveseat and tried to review the day's happenings. He did not notice when Hermione entered. She studied him for several minutes then got a devilish look on her face.

She quietly approached him and without warning sat in his lap and laid her head on his chest.

"Gah!" he said, startled. "Hermione, what are you doing? What if your parents walk in?"

"Mum is off doing some after Christmas sales shopping and Dad is working in his office. My being in this position got you to finally talk to me the other day. I thought I would try it again to see if you would talk again."

Harry groaned lowly.

After several minutes of silence, she quietly spoke up. "Being an older man, have you learned to dance? I'm really hoping to get you out on the dance floor Saturday."

She shifted around on his lap to be able to see his face. "I want several of the stuck-up girls who have harassed me for years become green with envy when they see me on the dance floor with a stylish, handsome young man. For the first time ever, part of me is looking forward to this dance."

Harry immediately flashed to the Tri-Wizard Yule Ball, and his non-dancing dancing. Parvati had to lead him in shuffling around in a circle. He danced one dance before acting like the socially inept, socially scarred, fourteen-year-old boy that he was, and bailed out on his responsibility to at least try to show his date a good time.

The memory of how he acted when it popped up, particularly in the middle of the night, could still make him writhe in embarrassment if not shame.

He tried hard to keep that memory repressed.

"Sorry, Hermione," he muttered into her hair. "I don't know how to dance. My relatives would never teach me anything they thought would help keep me from being a social pariah."

She leaned back and looked him in the eyes. "Never, huh? Alright, we will start in five minutes. If for no other reason than you may get asked to dance at Neville's party tomorrow night."

She gave him an evil look. "Besides, your other choice of spending the next several hours with me, is to tell me everything."

With that. she rose and left the parlour and a very shaken Harry who was seriously considering which choice was worse.

His lack of dancing skills had been one of the, as he saw it, cowardly reasons he had begged off the Ministry's Yule Ball claiming he was tied up getting his house in order so he could recommence with the Potter Yule Rituals.

Several snide, or worse, remarks had been published in the Daily Prophet about his lack of attendance.

Hermione returned with a cassette player in one hand and a bunch of tapes in the other. A quick set-up and the sounds of something he thought was a waltz filled the room.

"No shoes, Harry," she said, removing her own.

She soon had him standing in front of her, holding her outstretched hand as she taught him the rhythm and then the steps. When he had finally gotten the 1-2-3, 1-2-3 steps to the point where he was stepping properly ninety percent of the time without staring at his toes, she had him hold her with his arms in the proper dancing position.

At that point, everything she had taught him fled his brain. Even though she was holding him at almost arms-length, he became flustered and red faced, and stumbled almost every step.

After a couple of minutes of Harry acting like he had been hit with a Confundus Charm, the music stopped. The tape had ended.

Hermione went over to the tape machine to restart the cassette. Harry just stood unmoving where she had left him, arms hanging at his sides, staring once more at his feet, wishing the floor would swallow him up and end his humiliation.

"I must say, that was a bit of a disaster," she said calmly as the music swelled around them once again. "Let's try a different approach."

Gathering a refusing-to-meet-her-eyes-Harry in her arms, she proceeded to gather him in tight and placed his arms wrapped around her waist while she put her arms over his shoulders and merely swayed with the music.

In the meantime, not having to pay attention to his feet, Harry was trying to sort why he had just acted like a whipped puppy. Yes, he felt awful about being such a klutz to the girl he most wanted to impress in the world, but . . .

The problem with wanting to please her had led to him acting like he did a year ago. Meek, scared, and willing to do his utmost to dodge any attention. He guessed, no, now that he thought about it, he knew his fear of looking foolish in public had overwhelmed him. And the shame he felt for his actions at the Yule Ball, well alright, but that had not happened here.

So, why had he let it become a problem?

The more Hermione shuffled him around in a circle, the more upset with himself he became. This was what Parvati had done to keep him from humiliating the two of them.

He, the great returned hero, tasked with destroying the evil killer of thousands, became a total plonker teenager when he had to deal with a girl as something other than a dear friend.

So, he was supposed to be smarter now. He knew he had better memory retention. He thought clearer, he felt smarter. He was not a twelve-year-old any more.

Taking a deep breath, he gently pushed Hermione away from himself, left hand on hand, right hand on hip, centered himself with the rhythm, and stepped forward with his right foot, one. Brought his left foot forward, almost kissing the right foot and stepped left, two. And brought the right foot over as though standing to attention, three.

He fumbled a bit, but as long as he ruthlessly remembered to move the planted foot next, he only stepped on her feet a couple of times until the song ended.

He stood there, unmoving, staring into her eyes, until another waltz started. Again, with tight concentration, he only stepped on her stockinged feet a couple of times.

Five more orchestral waltzes and the pair were willing to mutually stop for a while to rest sore feet, aching thigh muscles, and quench their thirst.

"Let's get a snack," Hermione said and the two of them went to the kitchen and after putting on the kettle, created several chicken salad finger sandwiches for a late tea.

Hermione mentioned as they munched through their snack, that there was another easy to learn four-step dance-beat that she often heard on Lavender's wireless. She would start him off and they could maybe add a bit of polish on tomorrow before he left for Neville's ball.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

There must have been a house elf invisibly working near the Longbottom Longhouse floo. Harry felt himself starting to stumble when he felt a gentle push that straightened him up. He felt grateful and said quietly, "Thank you," into thin air.

He looked around, noting the gleaming of the polished marble, the opulent, carved, and brocaded furniture. He then joined the short queue leading to Neville and an older female that he recognized from the Wizengamot.

"I, Heir Longbottom, I welcome you, Lord Potter, to the House of Longbottom. May I introduce you to My grandmother, Regent Dame Augusta Longbottom?"

Harry finished off the welcome by giving Neville a handshake and bowing over Regent Longbottom's hand, air kissed her knuckles.

"I thank you for coming, Lord Potter. Our House is honoured by your attendance," she said.

"I am honoured that Heir Longbottom thought to include me in his list of invitees," replied Harry.

"And with some luck, I can quietly set a time to meet Lord Greengrass before having to leave for Hogwarts."

Her eyes raked over his attire. The black robe with dark grey accents and lighter grey stitching was of good quality without being pompously formal.

Harry grinned internally. Neville had explained his Gran's motivation for the invitation, and frankly, for Harry, it was an easy way to pay off some of what he figured he owed her from her support during his lordship during Dumbledore's attempts to not give credence to his ascension.

Neville wordlessly caught Harry's attention and rolled his eyes off over Harry's left shoulder. Taking his cue, he turned and headed that way.

"Ahhh, this must be the junior part of the gathering."

Taking a quick look around, he saw the parents, and other adults, were mostly gathered off over his right shoulder.

He preferred not mingling with the adults yet, if ever tonight. They would probably treat him as the child he looked like, or be fake fawningly obsequious trying to curry some favour from the idiot youngster.

He hid most of his grin as he espied Lavender, and Fay Dunbar from Gryffindor, along with some upper years from the scarlet and gold. Somehow seeing Brown without her gossip twin Parvati with her seemed most odd.

Standing in another talking group, he also saw Susan Bones with her friend Hanna Abbott, what's-his-name Smith, Stephen Cornfoot, and some others he didn't know the names of.

Ahh, away from the group were the pretty Daphne Greengrass, her friend Tracey Davis, and another light brown, curly-haired girl whose face showed a striking resemblance to Daphne. Maybe the younger sister she had occasionally mentioned?

Further away was another group of Slytherins. Malfoy, and his guards, Crabbe and Goyle. Parkinson, Bulstrode, Nott, and several others that he remembered constantly glaring at him or being among the most vocal of the cheating accusers last year.

Another knot of older Slytherins most whose names were not know by Harry. The only ones he knew the names of were the quidditch players from Oliver's constant strategy meetings

Speaking of quidditch players, there was Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw team standing with a group of people he vaguely recognized as Ravenclaws. And several who he did not know, but since they were with the group . . .

"Hmm, be more sociable? It's on your list. Remember Diagon Alley. You managed to talk to girls then. Remember, your classmates are only twelve and you are fourteen, maybe fifteen. You can do this Harry," he thought.

Clutching his Gryffindor courage in both hands, he strolled up the Hufflepuff contingent who watched his approach with curiosity, surprise, and a few with blank-faced lack of expression.

Harry gave a slight bow. "Miss Abbott, Heiress Bones, how are you this evening? I see you are with people from your house who I have not met yet. Could you please do me the honour of introducing me?"

The two girls blushed scarlet, momentarily tongue-tied, and he could see their house males starting to ramp up at their reaction.

Susan, seeing that this could go wrong quickly, stepped up to his side. "Lord Potter, may I introduce Heir Smith and Heir Secondeus Entwistle." The pair produced deep bows as befitted their station as compared to his.

Harry gave a practiced, just the right angle of bow in return before sticking out his hand. The two tentatively returned his handshake.

Since he did not botch up her first introductions, she continued on. "Lord Potter may I . . . ." And she proceeded to introduce the remaining 'Puffs.

After about ten minutes, he felt that their questions were starting to get personal, fishing for information, so he made polite excuses and strolled over to the Ravenclaw group.

Thanking his lessons with Susan, Daphne, and Neville, he could at least introduce himself to . . .

"Ahh, Quidditch Captain Davies, or should it be Scion Davies? It is good to see you. Could I rely on your good offices to introduce me to your housemates? We second-year Gryff's don't see our Ravenclaw counterparts very often. The headmaster seems to keep sticking us with Slytherins in most of our classes."

The 'Claw fifth-year was taken aback by the direct approach of the younger, smaller, and stranger to his house, student. Then his brain kicked back in, This 'kid' was Lord Potter, a Lord of the Wizengamot. If he botched this, his parents and grandfather, Lord Davies, in the next room would probably ream him a new one.

A round of introductions followed with another almost fifteen minutes of school and quidditch talk before Harry made his excuses.

By now, he could see from the corner of his eye that many of the adults in the next room were surreptitiously watching him as he was making the rounds of the invited Hogwarts students

This time as he strolled towards the area staked out by the Slytherins, he tried to get a read on the dynamic going on. Both Sirius and Hector had discussed what type of 'social dynamics', Hector, or House dynamics, Sirius, he should be looking for.

Quidditch had worked with the Ravenclaws, maybe it could work with the Snakes?

"Heir Flint, I am Lord Harry Potter."

From the way Flint bared his yellow, snaggy teeth in a parody of a smile, he looked as though he was trying desperately not to pass gas. His upbringing as the son of a Voldemort follower had him wanting to snarl and slap Harry down.

His upbringing also told him that if his father found he had made a public enemy of Lord Potter, he would spend a lot of time over the remainder of the holiday being Crucio'd for his stupidity.

"Lord Potter, may I introduce you to Heir Draco Malfoy, Heir Gregory Goyle, Scion Vincent Crabbe, and Heiress Pansy Parkinson," ground out Flint in a flat monotone.

Harry extended a hand to Draco, who pumped it once and then released it with the barest of courtesy. His backup goons did better in their manners deportment, each bowing slightly as they shook his hand.

Pansy was the only one who followed the forms correctly and Harry gave her his best winning smile as he air-kissed her knuckles of the hand she extended to him. She sneered back.

The rest of the names rolled over Harry as he was introduced to almost a dozen third through sixth-year Slytherins with whom he had, or would have, very little contact with, except for those times Malfoy had drafted or hired some extra muscle for some trouble he planned.

When he was done, he turned to Flint and said, "Heir Flint, I thank you for your help. My godfather, Sirius Black said I should be sociable at this gathering, and you have performed helping me magnificently."

Flint looked concussed at Harry's words.

"Ahhh, I see three that I missed. Please excuse me."

With that, Lord Potter strode over to the Greengrass sisters and Tracey Davis.

The three girls had very different reactions to his approach. Daphne's face went from cold to frozen. Tracey became wary as her eyes flitted between Harry and the mass of Slytherins behind him.

The one he assumed was the sister Daphne sometimes mentioned, watched him with unconcealed interest. She was probably not in her father's confidence, but Harry figured she would have picked up something from her sister's talk or some things her parents discussed.

Harry went through the public forms of introducing himself to three unattached young women of rank.

During the mandatory hand air kissing he got no change of expression from Daphne, a bit of worry about the consequences from Davis, and a musical giggle and big smile from the younger Greengrass now identified as Astoria who would enter Hogwarts next year.

He was working his nerve up to maybe do some light flirting when Astoria looked over his shoulder and her eyes suddenly widened in alarm.

Harry figured he was about to be hexed in the back or . . . .

"How pleasant to see you this evening, MiLord," came a deep voice he instantly recognized. The voice did not seem unhappy or annoyed, but it held the no-nonsense tone of a protective father forging into battle if need be.

Harry turned to find Lord Greengrass accompanied by a stunning blonde beauty taking the last steps up to him. The formal red, white and black robe fit her like a glove. For a brief moment he thought she was a veela, but he realized he felt no tug of veela allure.

"Lord Potter," the tall Lord said with a bow.

"Lord Greengrass," Harry replied with a slightly shallower bow as his was the senior House.

"My wife, Serena," was followed by a curtsy from her and another bow from Harry followed by the requisite air kiss of her hand.

"I see you have met my daughters. I am sure you have seen Daphne at school as she is in your year and Astoria will be starting at Hogwarts next year," Greengrass spoke as though Harry had never before met the two girls.

"He's being cautious about being familiar with me, especially with so many Death-Eaters-in-the-Making within earshot. Daphne must have clued her father in as to how bad the Snake Pit has become. With Malfoy getting all the backup from Lucius he wants, any threats from him involving a student's family could become very real," Harry thought.

After two minutes of meaningless chit-chat, a comment from Mrs. Greengrass gave Harry his opportunity.

"Yes. Lady Greengrass, I agree that the Hogwarts houses have become too insular. My godfather told me I was to be sociable tonight and I think I will follow his advice."

Harry turned to the trio of girls and said, "Miss Greengrass, would you please partner a dance or two with me?"

A/N:

One: The Western Oriental Commercial and Mercantile Bank is entirely fictitious. I do not want to get involved in a copyright problem. An internet search told me this name was safe.

The four-step taught to me as a teenager was called a foxtrot. No idea if it has other names.

Hmm. Hacking of government computers, creation of false official documents. Wonder what else we can get Harry thrown into gaol for? Criminal conspiracy? Technically, he is the 12-year-old mastermind behind it all.