Wherein Hermione goes to the library and accepts self-defense training, Captain Katie drops a problem in Harry's lap, everyone goes to Gringotts for the reading of Sirius' will, Sirius' bequests cause problems for Harry, Harry and Hermione cause problems for the goblins, Rita Skeeter causes problems for Harry and Hermione; Harry gets tested, Luna agrees to help, and a date is set.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.
Thanks to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, and new beta Mathiasgranger.
Chapter 51 - Padfoot's Legacy
Perhaps males respond differently to endorphins - or maybe Harry's response was simply differently than Hermione's. Whatever the hypothesis, when they awoke the next day - or more accurately, later the same day - the pair presented a night-and-day contrast.
After escorting a rather weak-in-the-knees Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower at about three in the morning (thank Merlin for the Marauders' Map), Harry had flopped into bed hoping for a few hours' sleep. He neglected his Occlumency. That was usually a recipe for disaster, but not this time. For once in his life, he had wonderful dreams.
Undoubtedly, his wonderful dreams were the product of last evening's even more amazing experience. Hermione had undressed him to just this side of starkers, and then she had done … THAT … to him. Not only that, she was just this side of starkers too, something Harry swore he would never forget as long as he lived. She had let him touch her even where she was not naked - albeit only very lightly. She enthusiastically let him perform the Orgasimos Charm on her several times….
Harry slept through his alarm for a good fifteen minutes. His poor clock was red in the face when Ron and Neville more or less dragged him out of bed. Ron gave Harry one of those looks - but chose to say nothing. After all, Neville was present.
Despite taking (more like being been forcibly administered) a cold shower - whilst still in his pyjamas - Harry remained in a pleasant, fuzzy semi-conscious state.
Ordinarily, Harry tended to be cranky in the morning. Those were the hours that so often brought calamitous news. Today, he was most uncharacteristically relaxed whilst eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table. He had momentous, if predictable, things to look forward to today.
For the moment, Harry was perfectly content just to sit back and reflect upon the previous evening's activities.
He was in love, and all he really wanted was to be with her again.
From the goofy look on Harry's face, Ron thought he knew exactly what went on. He could sympathise, having been in the same position not all that long ago. `That's bloody well worth a broke leg,' he thought to himself.
Hermione, for her part, woke up refreshed and feeling altogether renewed. Harry's spellwork had been everything she could have hoped for - only a spare pair of knickers short of perfect (and she was a witch, after all). That would not be a problem the next time.
The next time….
`Stop thinking like that….' Her wanton thoughts sometimes made her feel like … like … well, like someone she would not recognized before Harry had come to save her. Since when had she gotten so … infernally randy?
The point was moot. She could no more stop such thoughts than she could stop the march of time - even less, actually (she was a witch, after all). Already eagerly anticipating that next time, Hermione felt warm and prickly feelings deep inside.
But for now she had things to do and places to go.
Practically bursting with energy, Hermione quickly got dressed and made her way to the library. She had promised last night to find something for Harry - and now she would find it. All she had to do was retrace her steps from before and track down the legal reference she remembered.
She had friends in the library - mostly hardbound, but some tightly rolled - that would tell her things they did not seem inclined to tell others. This particular foray took less than an hour.
Harry, Ron, and several other Gryffindors were still in the Great Hall when she arrived for her own hurried breakfast. Hermione plopped herself down so close to Harry that any closer would have been in his lap. With a knowing smile, she Legilimenced, `I found what I remembered seeing during my research. I think it will be helpful.'
`Great,' Harry thought back to her. `I can't wait to see the look on Blackie Howe's face when he finds out that you know magical law better than he. You'll probably get a job offer….'
She stopped him cold with her serious tone. `You will do nothing of the sort, Harry. The last person in the world … well, maybe not quite that bad…. Anyway, you don't want to say a word about this to anyone, certainly not until we've had a chance to discuss this with your goblin friends. Maybe not even then.'
Harry trusted his fiancée implicitly on this kind of issue. `Okay, Hermione,' he agreed. "Mum's the word."
"Whose mum?" Ron asked casually whilst working his way through a pile of bangers, bannocks, kippers, and toast with red currant marmalade.
"Umm…." Harry belatedly realised he had said his last aloud.
"Mine," Hermione jumped in. "And you really don't want to know."
"Got that right," Ron mumbled with his mouth full. "Your problem, Harry."
Tonks and Professor Flitwick arrived to take Harry, Hermione, and several other invited guests to Gringotts for the formal reading of Sirius' will - the final step in the prolonged inheritance process. After that, all the titles, deeds, certificates, keys and other indicia of ownership of Black family assets would magically update themselves in Harry's favour.
Ron was present, looking a bit out of sorts. Ginny had received an invitation, as had Neville. So, of course, had Hermione. Others, including Blackie Howe, would be joining them at Gringotts.
Since Bill's death, Professor Flitwick had stepped into the role of the Order's informal liaison to the goblins - for second-level matters insufficiently important to involve their principals (Harry, being one) personally. The diminutive part-goblin took Harry aside to explain the protocol for this latest event. It seemed like everything the goblins did had some ceremonial aspect to it.
Hermione took a couple of steps in Harry's direction before a gently placed hand on her shoulder halted her.
"Hermione, can I have a word?" It was Tonks.
"Sure," she agreed. "What do you want?"
"Not here," Tonks whispered conspiratorially. With a bob of her head, she indicated for Hermione to follow her, which the girl did, towards the staff anteroom behind the Head Table.
Before entering Hermione recalled security and required Tonks to demonstrate her bona fides. The Auror did so, with some quick appearance changes that only a Metamorphmagus could manage.
They soon reached an out-of-the-way alcove where they could speak privately.
"I've heard from the dead woman's relatives," she told Hermione. "They appreciate the offer, but it's a no go. They don't want either the complications or the possible publicity that would come with your attendance. They have accepted Harry's offer to cover the funeral expenses, though."
"I can't really blame them," Hermione said resignedly. "It was a horrible way to die, Imperius or not, and I can see them just wanting it over. I'll pass the message along to Harry."
"All right. It sounds like you've been told the details of exactly what transpired," Tonks carried on. "There was some thought to keep the more … umm … disturbing details away from you."
Hermione confirmed it. "We both know. Harry insisted. He says it helps motivate him, but I'm not so sure."
Tonks' face screwed up a bit as she pondered Hermione's comment. "I can't say that's a bad idea - as long as Harry can keep himself under control."
"I think that's a big part of why he insisted," Hermione replied. "He's doing it to test his control. So far, so good."
"Well, along those lines, I've spoken with Mad-Eye, Shak, and Minerva," Tonks told her. "It's not something we relish doing, but we're agreed that, if you want to learn, we can teach you some wandless magic that would be useful in … er … that scenario."
"What do you mean, Tonks?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"That's … that's plainly the sort of thing that the Death Eaters have planned should you ever fall into their hands. It's a horrible way to die - and unnecessary," Tonks explained, her intense eyes boring into Hermione's. "I agree with Mad-Eye that it's better to go down fighting, even if disarmed. If you're game, I'm ready to show you how to do it."
"Oh," Hermione said with greater focus. "Mad-Eye's idea I suppose?"
"No, mine," Tonks answered. "Mad-Eye wholeheartedly approves, though, and he had some additional suggestions along these lines, as I thought he might."
"And you had to get Professor McGonagall's approval?" Hermione continued.
Tonks offered a thin smile. "She's your Head of House - and Dumbledore's too busy. Also, I had to run this by Shak, because it's the sort of magic that would ordinarily get you expelled from his Defence class. He's not happy about it, but he agreed. There aren't that many good alternatives."
"I'll learn it," Hermione agreed. "But I'm not keeping anything from Harry."
"I wouldn't ask you to. Just … nothing kinky, okay?"
Harry finished with Professor Flitwick and wandered about the Great Hall, wondering where Hermione was off to. He was intercepted by a concerned Katie Bell. "Harry, I need to talk with you about the team," she told him.
"Sure, what's up?" Harry asked.
"Only the latest crisis with Jazzy," she told him. "I hope she won't be more trouble than she's worth, but Professor McGonagall spoke to me about her yesterday."
"What's wrong?" Harry asked. "Is she in trouble?"
"It seems that she's failing Herbology," Katie informed him. "You know that's no longer allowed in Gryffindor House. If she can't keep up with her studies, McGonagall will drop her from the team. McGonagall's wanted to impose more academic discipline on Quidditch for years, but until now she's been afraid that Snape would flunk our players deliberately if she put in that kind of rule…."
"What do I have to do with this?" Harry interrupted.
"Well, I tried to talk to her about it, and I couldn't get anywhere," Katie explained with a cross look on her face.
"And?"
"And I think only you might be able to get to the bottom of what's going on and help her," Katie said. "She doesn't really associate with anybody. She's absolutely the biggest loner in the whole house. I think you talk to her more than anyone else."
"Yeah," Harry had to agree, "but only at practice, actually, to teach her Seeker moves. She's really interested in that, but I have no idea what else might be going on."
"Well, do you think you can at least try to find out?" Katie requested.
"I'll give it a go," Harry reluctantly agreed, "but no guarantees."
Hermione found her way back into the Great Hall. Tonks had gone to confirm the last-minute transportation arrangements with Gringotts. Seeing Harry having a chat with Katie, Hermione took a few steps in that direction before being intercepted by Ginny.
"Well, congratulations, Hermione," Ginny offered cryptically. She was grinning, but her cheeks lacked the dimple ordinarily present when she smiled.
Something about the younger girl put Hermione on her guard. "Umm … thanks. Did something happen that I don't know about?"
"Doubt it," Ginny replied, cocking an eye at her. "Surely, you haven't forgotten already. Congratulations about last night."
Hermione could feel the blood rising in her face. She was going to hex Ron into a hundred little pieces if he had told Ginny, of all people, about her extracurricular activities with Harry. "I-I-I'm … not sure…."
"…I heard that almost all of Hufflepuff is going to sign up for your D.A. session," Ginny added after a pregnant pause. "Brilliant the way you were able to handle Harry."
Hermione visibly relaxed. Ron had not spilled their naughty little secrets after all. "That's wonderful, Ginny! Thanks for letting me know. How did you find that out?"
"From the Hippogriff's mouth," the redhead began, and then paused, "Hannah Abbott told me - last night, when we ran into each other on patrol. Look, there's Neville. I'll see you there, then. Oh…, and enjoy yourself."
Hermione stood there, and watched her friend saunter off. Was there more going on than met the eye?
Before she had any more time to consider Ginny's remarks, Professor Flitwick announced that all those attending the reading of the will needed to assemble at the Castle's central Floo connection in the foyer beside the main entrance.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron, minded by Tonks and Mad-Eye, all made their way to the Hogwarts main Floo. There they waited for Professor Flitwick to return from reconnoitering the link to Gringotts. When Neville and Ginny appeared maybe fifteen seconds later, Harry was somewhat surprised to see them.
"Here, I've got yours, Harry," Tonks told him. "Gringotts didn't trust this one to the owl post." Tonks pulled out a letter sealed with a large dollop of white wax into which the Gringotts seal was impressed. It was addressed to him in Sirius' sloppy and angular handwriting.
She then turned to the others. As a security measure, Tonks required everyone intending to attend the reading of the will to present his or her testamentary letter. In another surprise for Harry, not only Ron and Hermione, but Neville and Ginny, produced sealed letters similarly addressed in the same script.
Harry was even more surprised to see Tonks herself produce such an envelope. "I'm standing in for Remus," she said sadly. "It's that time of the month, and he can't be here himself."
It struck Harry how much the meaning of that phrase differed in respect of Remus, as opposed to Hermione.
"Tonks, I'm sorry," Harry declared when she was finished. "I should have thought it through. Of course, Sirius would have remembered his best living friend. I should never have scheduled the reading for a full moon."
"Harry, it's all right - really," Tonks answered with a tragic smile. "Remus had very mixed feelings about all this anyway. It would have been very hard on…."
"Umm … Tonks," Hermione interrupted. "I couldn't help but notice the different coloured seals."
Harry looked and quickly saw that, as usual, Hermione had been more observant than the rest. His, Tonks', and Neville's envelopes all bore white seals. Ron's had a red seal. Hermione's was sealed twice, in both red and yellow wax. Ginny's had a single yellow seal.
"I have no idea," Tonks answered. "Do you know, Harry?"
"I'm as clueless as you," he replied.
"We'll just have to ask the goblins," Tonks concluded.
When the group exited the public Floo opposite Gringotts, Harry thought there were rather more witches and wizards on the street than at the height of last summer's Voldemort scare. His dramatic escape from the Death Eaters had been portrayed in the Prophet as a great victory, and the populace seemed somewhat less frightened.
The passers-by saw him too, and in no time autograph seekers and would-be Harry hangers-on were milling about, circling like sharks.
"Back off!" Mad-Eye ordered. "Nothing ta see here. Just a few Order of Merlin winners crossing the street, that's all."
For some reason, that warning did not seem to help.
Somebody (a female, Harry hoped) tossed a pair of knickers at him over the heads of the others. Mad-Eye shredded it with a spell whilst it was still in midair.
With the ancient Auror's fierce countenance alone proving insufficient to part the gathering crowd, a bit of escalation was called for. Mad-Eye let loose with a couple of noisy Distraction Hexes. Tonks administered Harry a quick Disillusioning Charm before any of the onlookers figured out what was going on. Taking advantage of the confusion, Sirius Black's various beneficiaries ran for it, and were able to achieve the sanctuary of Gringotts without any more delays.
At first the pair of goblins guarding the main entrance appeared to be moving to stop them - but Harry had missed Professor Flitwick's sign. They merely requested a pause. With a low grinding noise, Gringotts' massive four-metre square bronze doors swung fully open. Harry's group was to use the bank's ceremonial main entrance, rather than the ordinary business one. As with the Ashrak, opening Gringotts' main doors allowed the goblins to display their respect for these welcome guests.
A fairly thin (by their standards) goblin met Harry and his companions at the door. "Welcome, Impratraxis," he greeted. "Glaksosmit I am, for Gringotts Director of Wizard Estate Matters - at your service. In readiness al is, I believe. Indeed, more than we expected, we have found. Nothing adeemed as we had thought. Administered in accordance with Mister Black's wishes everything will be."
Harry muttered out a gradnuk, and the senior goblin continued. "And these? The other beneficiaries, I assume?"
Harry hesitated, because he frankly was not sure. His friends had envelopes similar to his own, but he had not opened his - and they had different coloured seals.
"That's correct," a voice intervened. Harry turned and saw Blackie Howe striding up beside him, spotlessly dressed in one of his 500-Galleon pinstriped robes. "Sorry, I'm late, Harry," the solicitor apologised. "Bit of a crisis with the Floo from the Continent, I'm afraid, but I believe it's been set right."
"Very well," Glaksosmit continued. "Before we begin, please, your envelopes and your wands you need to me present."
Everyone complied, and the goblins used their own magic to check each wizard's identity against his or her wand. All was in order until he reached Tonks. "What is this?" he muttered with surprise, as the envelope she had (which was addressed to Remus) did not match her wand. "Perhaps, a proxy?"
"That's right," Tonks stated. "Remus Lupin, the beneficiary, is a werewolf and this is the day of the full moon."
The werewolf aspect did not bother the goblin in the least, but the proxy did. "My apologies but proxies, by advance request only they must be arranged. I'm afraid that I cannot…."
Harry stepped in. "If Remus wants her here, then I want her here. It's all right - arbit aras balam. I know them both and I'll vouch for them."
It might have been most irregular, but Glaksosmit was not about to overrule the wishes of a goblin prince, certainly not on the day that this prince was also going to become the largest shareholder (and depositor) of Gringotts Bank.
"So be it shall, then. So ordered has Impratraxis," he backed down with a nervous grimace that revealed his pointed teeth. Reviewing the envelopes against his list he wiggled his long ears just a bit before asking. "And Miss Chang, where is she?"
Harry was taken completely by surprise. "You mean Cho Chang?" he asked.
"She's not coming, mate," Ron spoke from behind in a not altogether pleasant tone of voice. "She can't come, and I didn't particularly want her here. I don't know what Sirius is playing at, but I've got her envelope."
Ron pulled out another parchment envelope bearing a yellow seal just like Ginny's and presented it to Glaksosmit.
"Sirius could have a right strange sense of humour, but if there's anything real to this, I'll handle it for her," Ron finished.
The goblin looked to Harry for guidance. Harry nodded, so Glaksosmit allowed Ron's more-or-less proxy to stand as well. It was much less irregular, since Ron had his own envelope and was to be admitted anyway.
"Asak, Impratraxis Potter," another more familiar goblin greeted Harry as he joined the group.
"Bladvak," Harry responded. "Asak to you as well. I didn't expect to see you today."
Bladvak was momentarily struck speechless. Harry's greeting was - not appropriate - not from royalty to a goblin commoner. He looked to Glaksosmit, who shrugged. "Then … why not, know I do not," Bladvak finally replied. "After all, your representative I am for the royal inheritance to be audited. My understanding is that both your and my request it is our handiwork to complete."
Harry trusted Bladvak more than probably any goblin short of the royal family itself. Thus, he asked, "What do the different colour seals mean?"
"The seals?" Bladvak again looked to his superior goblin, who nodded. "Signifies an absolute bequest, white does. Signifies an absolute bequest subject to ademption, red does. Signifies a conditional bequest, yellow does."
"Er … what's ademption?" Harry asked, almost wishing he set aside time to meet with Blackie Howe beforehand - almost.
Bladvak was obliged to answer any question put to him by a member of the royal family, but he looked anxiously to Glaksosmit, upon whose turf Harry was leading him to tread.
Hermione squeezed Harry's hand. A nod of her head directed Harry's attention in to the goblins' interaction. He immediately noticed Bladvak looking a little embarrassed, and Glaksosmit looking a bit impatient.
"Umm … forget it…. Shall we go, then?" Harry prompted the head-goblin-in-charge. "…And get this over with," he added, mostly to himself.
Whilst Hermione, through Legilimency, explained to Harry that ademption was what happened to bequests that failed if specifically designated property was no longer in the estate, the goblins led everyone through Gringotts' mazelike private galleries. The group passed through sundry doorways and hallways until finally they were ushered into a large, well appointed room with a massive central conference table. Smaller tables against the walls offered considerable wizard food and drink along with virtually unrecognisable goblin refreshments.
This room was lit, goblin-style, by large milky-white crystals like Harry had seen during the Ashrak. These fit snuggly into shiny brass brackets bolted to the walls at regular intervals. Their soft, almost natural light set the sheen from varnished wood panels and polished marble flooring almost to glowing. Fancy inlaid foldable wooden stools with plaid-covered cushions were provided for the wizard guests. The goblins in attendance brought along personalised sitting rocks - polished stone blocks in various colours, their top sides featuring individually carved depressions that exactly fitted each owner's rear end.
For all its size, the centre table did not dominate the room. A floor-to-ceiling goblin mirror at the room's far end overshadowed everything else, even while making the space seem twice as large as it really was.
Festooning the walls were scores of crystal covered cabinets, each displaying a single rather jagged looking circular object. They seemed to be weapons - small ones - of some sort. Harry asked his hosts what they were.
"Impratraxis, Asterliks for hunting Chyropts, they are," Glaksosmit explained. "Tradition it is, among us. Hunted are they by every male goblin, some better than others." He moved to one of the frames, motioned his bony fingers at the glass (at least Harry assumed it was glass), and the cover opened without being touched.
Glaksosmit removed the object. It approximated the size and thickness of a circular saw blade, but with considerably more intricate and irregular serrations. Nor was it flat; rather his Asterlik sported four distinct grooves and a gracefully curved surface. "Mine, this is," he said in a low voice to Harry. "Perhaps escaped one has, from through the mirror?"
Glaksosmit inspected the room intently, particularly the corners where the walls and ceiling joined. Harry noticed him shifting the Asterlik so it perched with the four fingers of his right hand fitting precisely in the device's four corresponding grooves. The goblin squinted, gave a toothy smile, and….
With Harry watching closely, Glaksosmit's right threw the Asterlisk with a whip-like overhand motion. It produced a whirring sound as it arced through the air. Against the opposite wall Harry briefly saw a flutter, and a swerve. The streaking Asterlik matched that final swerve at exactly the same moment. The Asterlik cut through the fluttering object. With a high-pitched shriek, it exploded in a red-orange-red flash of light. Barely an instant later, the Asterlik embedded itself in the far wall with a "thwack." Firmly embedded, it vibrated slightly
His attention focussed entirely on Glaksosmit's actions and their aftermath, Harry had not noticed Bladvak and several other goblins following suit. As several of the Hogwarts students dove under the table, several more Asterliks hissed through the air. Some produced similar small explosions, some not.
Then silence - punctuated only by coins being slapped onto the table and slid between various goblins.
More gold was directed towards Glaksosmit than any other.
After pocketing his winnings, he summoned his Asterlik with a wave of his hand. The other goblins were doing the same. Magically, the room's wood paneling repaired itself, and the gouges left by the Asterliks vanished.
Glaksosmit looked Harry straight in the eye, as if sizing him up. "Impratraxis, with Asterlik, hunt very well do I," he said with a conspiratorial nod. He scrutinised the other goblins around the room. "Krak," he commanded and then let loose a fast sentence of Gobbledegook. All the goblins returned their Asterliks to the wall cabinets.
Save Mad-Eye Moody, all the non-goblins in the room were either frightened or (as with Hermione) simply surprised - depending upon how comfortable they were with goblins. "What was that all about?" Harry asked Glaksosmit.
"Of Chryopts clear now the room is, Impratraxis," the goblin replied. "Magical creatures, like bats or small Harpies," he added, seeing Harry's questioning look. "An underground race we are. Hunted them forever we have …. But to business!"
A few more instructions in Gobbledegook, and goblins started scrambling. Several, Bladvak included, passed through the mirror. Its reflective surface rippled slightly as goblins disappeared behind its silvery boundary. Beside Harry, Hermione observed everything, fascinated with the unusual goings on.
The mirror quivered again as Bladvak reappeared, carrying a silver tray upon which rested a small cask of some sort. The cask was covered in that grey fabric the goblins fancied. Next to it was a twisted piece of metal with a handle on one end.
Bladvak seated himself at the head table, to the left of Glaksosmit, who took the centre chair. On the side opposite, another goblin produced a shiny, jet black shaft, finely pointed on one end, which he set on a piece of parchment.
"In Impratraxis' name, quiet, please," Glaksosmit intoned, and the room went silent. He nodded to the goblin on his right (the audience's left) who passed his hand over the shaft. It sprung to attention, hovering expectantly.
"On the record at fiz-lit Amanplat, resturlak da Krasmol - that is ten forty-five on twenty-eight September, 1996, wizard time…."
When he spoke, the ebony shaft began scratching away on the parchment. Glaksosmit stared at it a moment, then whispered something to the goblin evidently managing the recording device. That goblin promptly grabbed the device in mid air, and twisted the top of it. Scowling at the parchment, he wadded up the sheet and tossed it through the mirror.
"Begin again, will we," Glaksosmit said with some annoyance creeping into his voice. "This time with proceedings in English recorded, not Gobbledegook."
"On the record at fiz-rop Amanplat, resturlak da Krasmol - that is ten forty-six on twenty-eight September, 1996, wizard time. Gathered here are we for the reading of Testamentary Instrument No. 95-365, the last will and testament of Sirius Pepys Black. Previously void, retroactively revalidated this instrument is by repudiation of Mister Black's conviction, upon formal motion by the Minister of Magic, Wizengamot approved on twenty-nine August, 1996, by vote of 27-7 with a number of abstentions."
"By order of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, postponed this reading was pending the final judgment closing In Re: Black Probate Contest, No. 89-35, and Malfoy v. Potter, No. 96-113, which judgment was entered twenty-two September, 1996."
"The document if you would…."
Bladvak opened the cask. He removed not only a piece of parchment rolled up and tied with a green ribbon, but also a small canister resembling a medicine bottle. Silently, he handed them both to Glaksosmit.
The senior goblin made a hand motion that caused the ribbon to unravel and the parchment to unroll. He held the bottle up and gave it a curious stare.
"Happened did unusual things, when Mister Black's conviction the Ministry formally repudiated," Glaksosmit began. "Mister Black, it seems, not quite as impecunious was he as believed had we. Of an unincorporated entity the hidden owner was he. Registered had he this `Alpha Astra,' in the name of `John Oliver Wilson.' Non-existent this Wilson was, the name suspect now we as a collage of the middle names of certain of Mister Black's boyhood friends."
`Oliver was your father's middle name,' Hermione Legilimenced to Harry as the goblin continued with his introductory speech.
"…Certain assets this Alpha Astra had, which upon Mister Black's rehabilitation, to his estate automatically linked…."
`How do you know that?' Harry Legilimenced back. `I only found that out from his gravestone, whilst you were….'
"…Part of it now are they. With them, more understandable Mister Black's will is…."
Ignoring that worrisome memory, Hermione told him, `It was engraved on the Head Boy trophy.'
"…This, the Alpha Astra account also contained," Glaksosmit pointed to the phial in his hand, "which examined have we. In it his own will reads Mister Black…."
Everyone in the room gasped. The goblins had kept this fact a secret - even from Harry.
With no further ado, the goblin placed the stoppered bottle on the table in front of him. Grasping it with his clawed left hand, Glaksosmit grasped the oddly shaped tool with his right. The thing looked like a cross between an ice pick and a corkscrew. In one fluid motion Glaksosmit plunged the thin point of the blade into the stopper. Pulling back on the blade, he removed the stopper with a "pop".
With a soft hissing noise, a translucent, vaguely glowing cloud of bluish steam emerged. This cloud flowed forward and settled into the open space between the goblin high table and the onlooking audience. It resolved into the image of Sirius Black, dressed in nondescript brown robes. Harry and Hermione both instantly recognised him as sitting at the davenport in the library at Grimmauld Place.
Sirius had a document - presumably the same parchment that now lay in front of Glaksosmit - in his hands. Before reading from it, he looked straight at the audience. The haunted look in Harry' godfather's eyes was instantly recognisable. Sirius often wore that same look during his initial encounters with Harry.
"Umm … Harry, I'm sure you're out there. I can't say, of course, how I died, but if you're seeing this, it means that Dumbledore's little plan didn't work. That's because, if it had, one of the first things I'd have done is prepare a new will in proper Black family style…. Too bad, but don't blame him, he at least tried. And don't blame yourself either. However I died, I'm sure it was my own bloody fault. I never was much good at looking before I leapt. Now, let's get this over with…."
Sirius' image looked down at a document and began reading. Glaksosmit followed along to ensure that everything on the parchment was identical.
"Ahem…. On this, the eighteenth day of October, 1995, I Sirius Pepys Black, being of sound mind and body…."
He looked up and straight at the audience.
"Now that may be debatable," he offered as an aside, adding a mirthless chuckle. "…Do hereby declare that this document is my last will and testament. In executing this document, I hereby revoke all prior wills and codicils… Like I had any…. I declare that I am not married and that I have no children or other blood heirs. In accordance with my wishes, my property is to be distributed as hereunder:"
"To my cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa…."
At the mention of these Death Eater (or equivalent) relatives, Harry tensed. Hermione squeezed his hand. Glaksosmit had that blade of his touched to the parchment to keep his place. He never looked up.
"…I leave nothing at all. I mention them specifically herein to notify the world of that fact. To my cousin Andromeda I also leave nothing - not by choice but because under Wizard Law the actions of my father preclude it, and everything of value that I have came directly or indirectly from him. Sorry, but I can't help it."
"In the event that I am murdered, I hereby set aside the sum of 50,000 Galleons as a reward to anyone - with the exception of the other beneficiaries hereto, who need no such incentive - who comes forward with information leading to the arrest and conviction of my killers."
"To my one remaining dearest friend, Remus John Lupin, I hereby bequeath a life estate interest in the Tindhólmur summit cottage/clubhouse that the Marauders built in the Faroe Islands. You know where that is. After Mister Lupin's death, the Tindhólmur cottage shall revert to Harry James Potter, my godson, and son of my other dearest friend, James Oliver Potter, and his wife Lily Evans Potter, both deceased - except as follows:"
Sirius looked up from the page and addressed the audience again.
"Remus, I know what you go through every month, but I dearly hope that you find it in yourself to qualify for the following bequest."
"In the event that Remus Lupin were to marry and have issue of his own, said Tindhólmur cottage shall pass after his death to such spouse and issue in fee and in perpetuity…. Merlin, I hate this formbook bumpf and guff."
The audience - except for Tonks - tittered. That last bit plainly was not in the document either.
"To my traitorous ex-friend, Peter Wilson Pettigrew, I leave nothing except this warning - remember you owe a Wizard Debt to my godson - and this request to my godson. If Peter satisfies his Wizard Debt, show him mercy, for that is the good that is in you…."
Then Sirius looked up again.
"And if he doesn't, Harry, you be damn sure to kill him right properly for your godfather and your parents."
"Now back to the will…. The remainder and residue of my estate, including all real, personal, and intangible property, I hereby leave to my godson, Harry James Potter, in fee and in perpetuity, with the following exceptions."
"In the event that my godson predeceases me … Merlin forbid … I name the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as the contingent beneficiary of the residuum of my estate, as so stated in the preceding paragraph."
"Assuming I have any money left, I bequeath to Hermione Jane Granger, and Ronald Bilius Weasley, who have been my godson's greatest friends for as long as I have known them, the sum of ten thousand Galleons each. I make this bequest, with the hope, prayer, and expectation that they will remain his friends for the duration."
"Neville Pupp Longbottom is in my godson's House and was born less than twenty-four hours previous to him. I am certain that he has a role to play in all this. Therefore, I bequeath to him the one significant magical artifact that I own - the Staff of Asclepius. If he can keep bloody serpents away from it, the Staff is pretty cool…. It accentuates the owner's most magical quality, as it did for me. I could never have had my way with as many witches without it."
Sirius cracked a sly grin as he finished his extra-documentary aside. The smile ran away from his face as he raised his head again, looking relatively grim.
"Harry, I'm making this final bequest because, like it or not, you're going to be a wizard of consequence. You're a Potter - the only heir to the line - and the Potter name is amongst the first rank of wizarding families in Britain. I don't want you to be trapped, like most other wizards of high station … I count myself in that category … by the dowry system that is still so damnably prevalent in our society."
"Rather, I want you to be free to follow your heart … like James did - to the initial dismay of his parents, I might add. That worked out in the end, but not without a great deal of grief. I'm not at liberty to tell you where Lily's dowry came from, except that it wasn't me."
"When the time comes, I don't want wizard conventions to force you to limit your horizons in any way. Nor do I want your eventual wife placed in an awkward or uncomfortable situation. Therefore, whilst this last bequest is not to you, at least not now, it's for you…. And, with that introduction, here goes…."
Sirius' eyes went back to the document. Glaksosmit, who had been reading ahead, dropped the blade he had been using.
"Finally, I bequeath the amount of 100,000 Galleons to the witch that my godson falls in love with and chooses to marry - said sum to constitute that witch's dowry so that my godson, like his father, can marry for love and for no other consideration. At the present time, not knowing who that witch will be, but having knowledge of some likely candidates, said bequest is to be placed in trust for the current benefit, jointly, of Miss Cho Chang, Miss Hermione Jane Granger, and Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley, such as the case may be, with distribution to abide future events, as hereinabove stated."
Harry could feel Hermione's hand tighten around his as Sirius finished this last bequest. She was hardly the only one who gasped. Whether meaning to or not, Sirius had effectively placed a bounty on Harry's head (or heart) that any witch in England - no matter what ethnicity (Cho), ancestry (Hermione), or financial status (Ginny) - was now free to pursue.
Not only that, Sirius had publicly handicapped those he saw as the three frontrunners in that sweepstakes.
That idea had undoubtedly seemed all well and good at the time to Sirius - who notoriously and admittedly had played the field when Harry's age. Nor had his handicapping been all that far off - as of October, 1995. At that point, almost a year previous, Harry and everyone else were still very much in flux as to matters of the heart.
Back then, he and Cho had still been circling.
But now, Harry was secretly engaged to Hermione; Ron was very much involved with Cho; and Ginny had recently paired off with Neville - although Harry had no solid information how far that last relationship had progressed.
Not only that, but of that six, everybody except Cho had been in the same room to hear Sirius' bequest announced.
And not only that - as Sirius had been totally wrong about another thing, the success of Dumbledore's plan - his estate contained the funds to pay every Galleon of that bequest. Indeed, the estate had enough money to finance it ten thousand times over.
Hearing Sirius' final bequest unloosed all of these thoughts, which went flying around inside Harry's brain careening into each other and generally unsettling his mental landscape.
As a result, Harry did not even hear Sirius name him as executor, or recite the obligatory tax, in terrorem and other clauses that completed his will. The next thing Harry knew, everybody seemed to be descending upon him.
Blackie Howe wanted to talk about investments, now that Harry was the legal owner of the Black Estate, and a conservator, since he was still underage.
Mad-Eye wanted to discuss dealing with the inevitable publicity that would attend his becoming the legal owner of the Black Estate.
Glaksosmit wanted to escort Harry to his new Gringotts vault, full of Black family treasures.
Bladvak wanted to update Harry concerning the status of the proceedings under the Malfoy confession of judgment.
Tonks wanted to learn what this Marauder cottage was all about, and Harry had no clue. He did not know where Tindhólmur - or even the Faroe Islands - were.
Hermione was hissing in his ear to remember that they needed to speak to the goblins - alone.
Even with Hermione's able assistance, Harry felt he was at the eye of a storm being buffeted this way and that. He was trying to get Mad-Eye to talk to Blackie about serving as conservator and also about putting together some sort of press release - when Harry felt himself being grabbed roughly from behind and spun around by his right shoulder.
Almost stumbling, Harry whirled around to find himself face to face with … Ron.
Ron's purpled complexion had him looking like he was about to explode - or else fall apart altogether. Having rather rudely seized Harry's full attention, the redhead now seemed to be having difficulty putting his thoughts into words.
"Just … just you … stay away from Cho, okay!" Ron spluttered.
"Umm … sure Ron, whatever you say," Harry tried to mollify his plainly agitated friend.
"I mean…. You've already got the one you want, don't you?" Ron continued. "You don't need to prove…."
"I've nothing to prove, Ron," Harry replied, not sure where Ron was going.
"…To prove your manhood by taking Cho away from me, too."
As Ron's jealous rage became obvious, Hermione intervened. "Ron! First of all, I was never yours for Harry to take. Don't flatter yourself. More to the point, I hardly think that you need to worry about Harry…."
"…Hell, Hermione, all this should bother you even more than me!" Ron cut across.
"Ron, you don't…," Harry tried to get a word in edgewise. His words were unnecessary, though, because Hermione was on the case - defending him.
"Well, unlike you, I trust Harry!" Hermione fired back. "It's something you'd be very well advised to try."
Ron deflated under Hermione's verbal assault. He turned back to Harry. "Well, you … you just stay away from her, okay?" he said before turning and storming off.
"No problem, Ron," Harry muttered after the retreating figure. "Can you believe that?" Harry groaned to nobody in particular.
"Don't worry about it, mate, he'll come around," Harry heard from his other side. Turning in that direction, he saw Neville's roundish face regarding him evenly. "He's just afraid that he'll come off second best to you again. I trust you to know what you really want…."
"Hey, thanks for the vote of confidence, Nev," Harry sighed.
"No problem," the russet-haired boy replied.
"Yeah, Nev's right," Ginny said from Neville's arm. "You just need to know what you really want, Harry."
That conversation ended because Hermione had rounded up Bladvak and brought him over to speak to Harry.
"We need to speak to you … in private," she whispered into the goblin's ear as she finished extracting Harry from his prior chat.
Bladvak looked around, trying to find Glaksosmit, but the superior goblin looked to be deep in negotiations with Blackie Howe and Mad-Eye, so after a moment's hesitation, he directed, "This way," and led them to the mirror's surface.
"Impratraxis, her hand please take," Bladvak directed. Then they effortlessly passed through the shimmering surface - and into a different world.
From the wood-panelled elegance of Gringotts' formal testamentary reading room, the three of them entered a cave-like tunnel with a smooth granite-paved floor. As Bladvak led them down this corridor, Hermione looked over her shoulder at the reflective surface that now shone behind them. It had been her first experience with goblin transport.
Bladvak led them to a fairly spacious room with stone block furniture. "My humble office, Impratraxis. For you what can do I? And you … umm. How you to address, quite uncertain, I'm afraid."
"I'm Hermione Granger," she told the uncomfortable goblin. "I'm also Harry's girlfriend," she added, and with that gave her fiancé a peck on the cheek.
"A problem is that," Bladvak continued, "Umm … Granger Miss. In our language, a `girlfriend' an Impratraxis has not. Not translate, does it."
"Well, what do I have, then?" Harry asked, interested in how a goblin viewed both his, and her, stations.
"Impratraxis, `savini' there is. A formal consort that references," Bladvak replied. "Also, `quastri' there is. A … less formal role, that means - merely a concubine. Princes … what want they, get they."
"Then, why don't you just call me Hermione?" Hermione asked him. "That's what I am, really, Harry's Hermione."
"But no title of address … umm … Hermione," Bladvak tried to make her understand. "Disrespectful ordinarily that is - in our language."
"Then how about Hermione Hermione?" she offered. "We're not as formal as a consort, and nowhere near as unequal as a concubine, so if it's something you've never seen before, then just name me after me."
"All right, Hermione Hermione," the goblin conceded. "Now enough small talk is this. What to tell me need you?"
Harry opened his mouth, but realised that he lacked sufficient details to explain what needed to be explained. All he knew is that a possible way existed to break the entailment of the Château Blackwalls estate, and thus eventually to sell it off and be done with it. "Er … Hermione, why don't you explain this? It's your idea, after all."
"As you know, Harry wants to liquidate the Black Estate once and for all," Hermione jumped in, speaking rather quickly. "The real property's the hard bit, because it's entailed under wizard law. So it's not like we can just ring up an estate agent and sell it. But I think I found a way around that. I read a reference to a provision in the treaty that ended the last Goblin War - at least that's what we wizards call it - that Gringotts had the right to foreclose on wizard estates that were in arrears on loans to the bank, notwithstanding entailment under wizard law. If that's the case, then it would be possible…."
"No, Hermione Hermione, not possible that is," Bladvak pronounced, needing to hear no more.
"But why?" Hermione persisted. "The provision in the treaty - I saw the exact language quoted. It seemed quite clear in giving Gringotts that right."
"Indeed does it," Bladvak agreed. "Unfortunately, become a dead letter has it."
"You mean that Gringotts has the power to foreclose on wizard estates, but chooses not to use it?" Harry jumped in.
"No, Impratraxis, that not mean I," Bladvak tried to explain. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Not by choice is it, but rather because early on, informed were we - not even a year had been ratified the treaty - that power if exercised did we, retaliate would the wizards by entirely out of Gringotts voting us. Why that is the Malfoy estate, for example, in your name, as the wizard debt holder, foreclose must we, even though far more money to Gringotts owe the Malfoys than to you. Of many, perhaps most, great wizard estates true that is."
"Does mine?"
"From Gringotts, never borrowed did the Blacks," Bladvak replied tersely, seeking to end the discussion of what was a most dangerous topic.
"No, I meant my real parents, the Potters," Harry clarified.
"Matters not, does it," the goblin answered evasively. "Until majority authority over those accounts have you not."
"But did the Potters owe Gringotts any money?" Harry persisted. "I want to know."
Bladvak had to answer the direct question. "Yes. In arrears since 1980, Potters are."
"That's when Voldemort killed Harry's parents," Hermione pointed out. Bladvak visibly shrank upon hearing that - afraid he had offended Harry.
Before Bladvak could do something like prostrating himself, Harry instructed him, "Please arrange to have all Potter debts to Gringotts paid in full, from the Black accounts if need be."
"But … Impratraxis, royal accounts charge Gringotts does not," the flustered goblin reminded.
"The debt isn't mine," Harry pointed out. "So that shouldn't be a problem. I don't want to owe Gringotts anything if something comes of Hermione's idea."
That brought matters back to the uncomfortable subject that Bladvak had been trying to avoid.
"Since Harry controls the blocking share," Hermione began laying out her idea, "the threat to goblin control of Gringotts doesn't exist anymore, as a practical matter."
"Hermione Hermione, if seriously suggesting something are you, then the wrong office this is," Bladvak declared. "Speak to Aksistar Klamdok, should you."
"I met him once," Hermione mentioned to both of them. "He's in charge of the entire bank. I doubt he'd have time to meet with us."
"For this - and you - time Klamdok will make," Bladvak assured her. "In today is he believe I. `Banker's hours' keep not we goblins. But of foreclosure speaking, documents have I that to sign Impratraxis needs."
"What are these?" Harry asked.
"Impratraxis, force Malfoy Manor foreclosure will these," Bladvak answered with a harsh chuckle that bared his teeth. "Delay no longer can they. Within two weeks, Malfoy Manor - what remains of it - yours will be."
"You know, Harry, if not for those Death Eaters holding you prisoner there, I'd ask you not to do this," Hermione commented. "The last thing you need is still more wizard property."
"If not for what those bastards threatened to do to you, I might be persuadable to let it drop," Harry more-or-less agreed. "But not now. It doesn't hurt that I've finally a chance to wipe that bloody smirk from that punk Malfoy's face for good."
* * * *
The pair who returned to Hogwarts late that afternoon had been chastened. No, Hermione had not been mistaken about goblin foreclosure rights. Quite the opposite. Hermione was dead on target. But her target was so portentous, and her approach so audacious, as to lie well beyond even Harry's grasp, at least at present. Klamdok had gone pale (if a goblin can go pale) upon hearing Hermione's proposal.
Her plan was nothing less than a main strike against the foundations of wizard society. "Bolshevism," Klamdok had called it, although not without admiration.
Her plan was also simply too dire to be considered seriously. If what Hermione had in mind ever came about, it promised to work a revolution in goblin-wizard relations - a revolution that the existing wizard power structure would not allow as long as they had the means to prevent it.
Klamdok produced a chart, so highly confidential that the Director of all Gringotts felt obliged to fish it out personally from a vault down the hall. That chart meticulously listed all of the great wizard families' indebtedness to Gringotts. For over three hundred years, wizards had borrowed from the bank with virtual impunity, ostensibly pledging their land, but with knowledge that wizard solidarity rendered those pledges unenforceable. Even the Dumbledore family was on the list. The Potters were too.
If Harry's blocking shares permitted a successful goblin foreclosure against even one piece of indentured property, the entire wizard upper caste would quite justifiably feel threatened. Ironically, he could not even set that precedent against himself, since the Blacks were one of very few families that had not ridden on this gravy train. Their extreme pure-blood prejudices - their disdain for goblins as "inferior" - kept them borrowing any significant sum from Gringotts.
Even Harry was not in a position to challenge the whole of wizard society in this fashion - especially since the pure-blood faction could easily (and correctly) portray him as being led astray by a wet-behind-the-ears, Muggle-born radical. Klamdok predicted ominously that the Wizengamot would simply invoke the Decree for Justifiable Confiscation to seize, or invalidate, Harry's Gringotts shares as "presenting a threat to wizardkind." The political fulcrum for such a dramatic attack upon the underpinnings of pure-blood wealth and power simply was not there.
Not yet, anyway.
If Harry succeeded as the "Chosen One," and destroyed Voldemort, however, all bets would be off. Then, and only then - in conjunction with the Gablankansta's essential contributions to such a victory - might the chance arise to change the nature of society so fundamentally.
Pending victory, Harry and Hermione needed to keep their radical idea a secret. They could not breathe a word of it to anyone - not even Blackie Howe.
Especially not Blackie Howe, Klamdok cautioned. He represented the legal interests of many families that would be adversely affected should the goblins finally be able to seize landed estates to cover debts.
Mum was indeed the word for the day.
* * * *
Another word of immediate import was "homework." The couple had a lot of it, and much of Sunday would undoubtedly be lost to Harry's interview with Rita Skeeter. Hermione would not consider leaving Harry alone with that woman.
All work - Potions essays, Rune translations, a practical Transfiguration project, and more - meant no play. In particular, their workloads precluded any significant secret dalliances, however much they both might desire another round of sexual diversion.
Thus Harry and Hermione were somewhat out of sorts as they trudged to the Hogwarts Ceremonial Library where they would be meeting Rita Skeeter for a noontime interview. Lunch was served, but neither student was particularly hungry - much to Dobby's disappointment.
Hermione had prepped Harry for most of the morning, since to let that woman interview him cold would be courting disaster. She also made sure that they arrived at the library a fashionable ten minutes late.
Rita Skeeter had arrived, and was starting to fume from having to cool her heels. Hermione noticed this and could not help but smile.
"Well, well, well - if it isn't Mister Money and Miss Brains," Rita greeted them acidly. "What a coincidence…. I take the Vow, and somehow, the very next day, you two pull off a public display of affection before the entire student body that would be worthy of a good fifteen column inches."
"So what?" Harry dismissed her complaint. He now knew better than to take anything this woman said at face value.
"So - every other reporter was free to write whatever they pleased, from any source - or no source at all - except yours truly," Rita spat. "If it were anyone but you, little Miss Defarge, I might call it coincidence. With you, I consider it attempted murder - but I resisted."
"Actually, this particular instance was coincidental," Hermione shot back. "But thanks for the idea. Knitting's a valuable skill."
Harry gave her an odd look, but addressed himself to the reporter. "The benefits were enough that you chose the Vow, and so was the punishment. You made the choice to spy, after all."
Rita tired rapidly of small talk - especially with this cheeky pair, and moreso because she was not accomplishing by it. "Speaking of benefit, let's get started, shall we? I haven't got all day."
The three settled uneasily around a table, Harry and Hermione on one side and Rita on the other. The reporter pulled out her trusty Quick Quotes Quill, which seemed practically to be vibrating in anticipation.
"Wait a minute," commanded Hermione. "Make sure that thing's set on `verbatim'."
"Aw, Hermione," Harry pleaded, "at least let her use `correct grammar'. That is, unless you want me to come off sounding like a prat what with my umms, ers, and all."
Hermione relented, and the interview proceeded.
"All right," Rita began with a sly smile on her face. "First question: What were you doing in Muggle London when you were abducted?"
Harry and Hermione had spent much of the morning debating how to answer just this inquiry. At first, Harry planned simply to refuse to answer at all, as was his right. Hermione eventually convinced him that it was pointless to conceal Eliza's involvement - if not her intentions. The intensity of the Muggles' investigation virtually assured that they had already linked her to what had happened. Harry had to admit that, from everything he knew, Eliza had never hidden her identity from either wizards or Muggles. Thus, they went over at some length what to say, and not to say, about the late Eliza Brookings.
"No names are going in the article," Harry instructed, "but I'll tell you on background…."
"Background?" Rita repeated, a faked tone of surprise in her voice.
"Yes, background," Hermione interjected. "I assume you know what that is."
"Quite," Rita answered. "I'm just surprised that he does…. Oh, don't bother…."
"Go ahead, Harry," Hermione told him.
"Anyway I was meeting with a woman, Eliza Brookings, who said she had information I should know about Voldemort."
Harry hoped his rather blunt usage of the feared name would throw Rita off the scent - but he did not know the persistent reporter well enough. Instead, he (Hermione, too) was taken aback by the unconcealed flash of eagerness that crossed Rita's face.
"Well, well, well," she tutted. "It didn't take long for this plot to thicken, did it? And just what were the two of you discussing at her flat?"
He had not told Rita their meeting's location. The reporter was plainly as prepared as they were.
"As I said, Eliza … she had some information about Voldemort that she thought I should know," Harry repeated, not commenting on Rita's titbit. Now, though, he sat straight up, almost as if at attention. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to go. Eventually, I decided to. There was an ambush. She was killed by the Death Eaters - three of them - and I was stunned and taken away."
Rita's eyebrows went up at the mention of Eliza's name and stayed peaked throughout his answer. After flashing a knowing look that prompted Hermione to Legilimence, `Be careful,' Rita pounced.
"That's not what she said - at least so I've been told," Rita commented.
"Who said?" Hermione jumped in, unable to restrain herself once Rita made that comment.
"Why, Eliza Brookings herself, that's who," Rita said in a voice dripping with artificial syrupy sweetness. Ignoring Hermione and addressing Harry, she added, "Her story was that you and she were having an affair."
Harry went red in the face, and his shoulders slumped. He thought that the only living souls (besides himself and Hermione) who could possibly know about that were a couple of Death Eaters - maybe - if they were not incinerated in Harry's explosive escape.
`It's your story, and you stick to it,' Hermione Legilimenced another instruction. She quickly added, `I've told no one - although Tonks guessed.' Aloud she addressed Rita, "If you want this to continue, you had best explain where this story came from, because it's not so."
Harry added, "She wanted to, but we didn't. She must have anticipated something that didn't happen - or more likely said something that someone took the wrong way. Your sources haven't exactly been all that accurate about me in the past, you know."
"All right, all right," Rita retreated. "So it isn't the best of sources. Some Death Eater spy caught up in the Ministry manhunt after the battle at Malfoy Manor told the Aurors that you and this Eliza were carrying on."
"And they believed a Death Eater?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "It seems like a tall tale told by someone who'd try anything to avoid Azkaban. It wouldn't be the first time."
To Harry she silently added, `See. Stick to your guns. Don't let her throw you.'
But Rita did not give up that easily - and she had done her homework. "Her story had some plausibility. This spy, somebody named Lucy, I think, had reason to know. She was Miss Brookings' supervisor and, she claims, mentor when she worked as a transcriptionist."
Harry nodded to Hermione, and then took the lead. "Eliza was the transcriptionist when I testified at a hearing about Dolores Umbridge. I learnt that she also worked on the Black Estate litigation. At the time, I'd just discovered I was a possible heir. I met her a couple of times about that - to find out what I was getting into. That's all. Anything else was her reading more into things than I intended."
Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep a neutral expression. She had never heard Harry sound more convincing whilst dissembling, and he came through precisely when it was most needed.
From all appearances, Rita seemed to buy it as well. "All right," she nodded, and was ready to move on.
This time, Harry stopped her. His eyes were blazing. "Now you wait a second. Tell me what you know about this Death Eater spy," he demanded. "This `Lucy' probably has a lot of blood on her hands."
"I thought this was my interview," Rita retorted.
Harry was implacable. "Not when my life was at risk," he said coldly. "I want to know because I think that woman helped set me up."
"I only know what my contacts tell me," Rita prefaced. "Lucy whatever-her-name-is was a low-level spy whose identity turned up after Dumbledore and Voldemort, see, I can say it, too, fought it out at Malfoy Manor. Nothing unusual about her - for a spy, I mean - except she insists that you were giving that Brookings woman a good seeing to."
Harry's ears once again went brilliantly pink. "If that's a question," he said coldly. "I did not have sex with that woman, if that's what you're implying."
"I can verify that if you're up for it," Rita shot back. "We investigative reporters have our ways, of course. This can all be cleared up with the Veritavirtuous Charm…."
"The what?" Hermione broke in.
"Just what I said, dear," Rita replied with the satisfaction of finally one-upping the little bossy-bits who had thwarted her twice. "Just like your unicorn stunt, except it only works on boys. Tsk, tsk, tsk…. It seems like there's finally a spell that Miss Know-It-All here hasn't heard of."
Harry was still somewhat in shock. "Umm … Hermione. … If you like … I…."
Glaring at Rita, Hermione took charge. "No, I don't like. But if it will shut you up about this once and for all, go ahead with whatever it is."
Then she turned to Harry. "I trust you."
Hermione knew it was a calculated risk, but she believed Harry.
They took a break for Hermione to explain to Harry exactly what was being proposed. It was less dramatic than - but not much different from - the trap she had set for Malfoy with the unicorn. Harry was reticent, but went along. He knew that spell could vindicate him. There was, finally, at least one benefit to their having waited.
Rita performed the charm - which was indeed a staple of a wizard gossip reporter's grotty trade. A white light emerged from her wand and encircled him. It turned ivory, almost cream, but stayed in the whitish range.
"Ah, yes … a technical virgin," Rita confirmed. "Lucy was having the Aurors on after all. But it appears as if you've done almost everything else."
`I'll cover this for you, Harry,' Hermione Legilimenced.
"If it weren't for the Vow," Hermione cut across, almost as pink in the ears as Harry - and getting pinker by the second. "You'd have seen the bum's rush long ago. Don't assume anything about Harry, especially after those recent events you were bitching about."
"On that, I'm not doubting you for a second, my dear," Rita replied sarcastically.
But at this point, Hermione had moved on to something far more important than sex. She turned to him. "Harry, you're right. It all fits. That Lucy woman probably helped those Death Eaters kidnap you."
"Well, for once in my life I was ahead of you," Harry answered grimly.
"Well, what do you know - I do believe that great minds think alike," Rita commented pointedly.
"I always suspected that the Death Eaters' timing was too good to be an accident," Harry said. "And whilst they had me, I had a lot of time to mull over such things. The invitation, and then the raid…. She doesn't know it yet, but by being a blabbermouth, I think this Lucy has just punched her ticket for a one-way visit from a Dementor…."
To Hermione he Legilimenced, `There's more I didn't tell you. I overheard the Death Eaters. They had Eliza under an Imperius that last time.'
"…She must have helped set me up, and that means she helped kill not only Eliza but also thousands of Muggles," Harry finished, "and there may not be any others left."
After establishing their preferred version of events for the kidnapping itself, the interview went considerably more smoothly for the pair. Harry described being kept in captivity for weeks by three Death Eaters, but never encountering Voldemort himself. He had no first hand knowledge even of where he was being kept. Only afterwards, from Dumbledore and others, did he learn it had been Malfoy Manor. He described waking up in a sea cave, and then again on the mountain path. Rita had no firm grasp of the topography of the Killiechonate area, so Harry was able to omit the spontaneous Animagus transformations.
Hermione described her flight across London on the night of the fire, and how she found only his wand. She told of going to Hogwarts afterwards, but omitted her nervous breakdown. She explained how she had acquired a (now broken) affinity with Harry in the Ministry fight, and proudly recounted how she had gathered her friends together to search for some way of reaching him. She superficially explained the spells she had used, since the details went entirely over Rita's head, and would have meant little to the expected readers. Tactfully omitting her conflict with Dumbledore and McGonagall, Hermione jumped to her Healing efforts at the battle of Malfoy Manor.
The next sticky part was how to explain the explosion that had wrecked the Allt a Mhuilinn Valley. There could, of course, be no mention of the Fifth Element, given its proscribed status. The explanation they used was simply vague. Neither of them had any real explanation.
"Now, Harry, what do you know about that huge explosion that you mysteriously survived?" Rita asked. "It was plainly magical, since it was felt by every witch and warlock in Great Britain. And from what I've been able to gather, it killed everything for kilometres around - except you."
"Not much, really," he answered feebly. "I've told everything to the authorities. I'd been on the verge of giving out with Death Eaters all about, cursing me - then Hermione came. Somehow that helped - for a while. Then You Know Who…."
"That's Voldemort," Hermione broke in, deliberately using the Dark Lord's name, "and I want you to use it in the story - no euphemisms."
Rita flinched at that directive, but said nothing because Harry was still narrating.
"…Voldemort somehow got into my head. He's a terribly strong Legilimens, even from a distance. I was trying to expel him, to protect Hermione. And at some point right about the same time the goblins started their attack on the Death Eaters…. I don't know the exact sequence, but I felt terrible pain and burning, and I passed out. That was probably the explosion, but I don't know whether it came from something Voldemort did, what the goblins did, or even something else. All I've been told is that nobody can really put a finger on what happened. It must have gotten into me somehow because - through me - it, it hurt Hermione."
At that point, Harry had to stop and resort to his Occlumency, so Hermione took over the description.
"The magic worked, and my consciousness … er … it was in Harry's mind…."
"That's too big a word for our readers," Rita interjected. "How about, `soul'?" she offered. "That seems appropriate."
"I don't know," Hermione pondered the word. "I've never believed in that kind of thing. I suppose, though, if you make clear to the readers that you're using the word without any religious connotations."
"Certainly," agreed Rita.
"Well, then my … my soul … was in, or at least connected to, Harry's mind. I saw what he was seeing," Hermione explained. "It didn't amount to much - just some foggy scenery and those Death Eaters cursing him - but then Voldemort broke into Harry's mind. I thought he was going to come after me, but before he got the chance, I felt the worst pain I had ever felt in my life. I'm assuming that's from the explosion, but nobody's quite sure. At that point I lost consciousness and stayed out until Harry came for me over a week later."
Harry then took the story to its logical conclusion. He told of waking up in the hands of the goblins at their royal palace. Without much need to improve upon the actual facts, he described his own travails from that point to when he used Chinese Legilimency to enter Hermione's mind and rescue her from her self confinement. He refrained from delving too deeply into his feelings - and Rita, knowing that anything along those lines would never get into the story in any event, did not press for details. It was also getting rather late in the day.
* * * *
Hermione tried her best to appear nonchalant as she strode down the Charms Corridor to the unused classroom at the far end. She had discussed the general outlines this latest plan with Harry, but not the details. She was not expecting any serious problem, but if anything happened she did not want Harry involved in any way - some things just should not involve boys.
She cracked open the door and slid in.
"Good afternoon, Hermione," a rather placid and self-possessed voice greeted her, "plotting again, I suppose…. Well, how can I help you this time? I just hope it's less involved than what you wanted last."
"Not nearly," Hermione responded, regarding with some interest the long-haired witch whom she found sitting in a lotus position on top of a table near the centre of the little-used room. "Thanks for coming, Luna."
"Well, you said it was important," the blondish Ravenclaw replied as she unfolded herself and slid off of the table to her feet. "What do you have in mind?"
"Harry and I are still worried about Cho Chang - about those extracurricular activities I told you about earlier. We need information on what she's doing and why…."
"Well, from what you've told me, I'd say that what she's doing is fairly clear," Luna replied bluntly. "Why are you interested in this, anyway?"
"We're worried about Ron, frankly," Hermione admitted. "We're quite concerned he's going to get hurt, badly, by what's going on."
A vague smile came to the girl's face before Hermione was even halfway through. "Fine," Luna declared. "What do you want me to do?"
"Well, that's one of the problems," Hermione explained in somewhat embarrassed fashion. "First we have to be absolutely sure it's her. She has some tattoos in the Internet pictures, but we don't know if they're real. Harry confirmed from Ron that Cho has tattoos, but we need to match them up."
"Where exactly are these tattoos?" Luna got right to the point.
"That's the thing," Hermione answered. "They're not exactly visible to mixed company…."
"No problem," Luna interrupted. "None of us Ravenclaws … the girls anyway - I wouldn't know about the boys - are particularly shy in the showers. Cho least of all. She flaunts what she's got, which is plenty enough."
"Thanks, Luna, you're a real friend," Hermione said, gratified that Luna had agreed to help without much persuading. She pulled some papers from an inside pocket in her robes. "These are the Internet pictures. I've cropped them to make them … er … less explicit. They show the tattoos we think she has…. Commit them to memory, and then burn them, or something."
"So what exactly are you asking me to do?" Luna inquired. "Take more pictures? Wizard cameras are rather bulky and noticeable - particularly in a shower."
"Not at all," Hermione explained. "All you need do is observe carefully. Harry has a Pensieve and both of us can use it. We can compare your memories with what's available on the Muggle Internet."
"Sounds easy enough," Luna commented whilst stuffing the pictures into her own pockets. "Harry knows about this, right?"
"He knows what you're being asked to do," Hermione replied. "The details of it, he's left to me. You know how shy he can be about such things."
* * * *
Harry and Hermione were returning from the Great Hall after dinner, their ordeal - fulfilling their part of the bargain with Rita Skeeter - behind them. Feeling rather tentative, Harry broached a subject he had hardly been able to ignore since they had last been together … alone.
"Umm … Hermione?" Harry began. "How are you … umm … feeling?"
"I'm feeling fine, Harry," she answered. "If I seem a little peaky, that's surely due to overexposure to Rita."
"Well, I was wondering if … well, you know…?" Harry cursed himself. One would think that, by now, he would be comfortable raising this sort of question with her of all people.
"I'm afraid I don't know," Hermione replied, telltale confusion visible on her face. "You'll have to be a little less elliptical."
"I was wondering if you're over … well, your … your time of the month?" Having finally forced out the question, Harry sighed deeply.
Hermione gave him one of those looks that asked, `And just how did you ever get into Gryffindor?' "Why no, I've several more days, yet," she answered, knowing instantaneously what he was really asking after.
"Then … well … er … what are you doing after that?" he asked, both hopeful and still somewhat scared of the whole thing.
"Who knows? Probably studying, unfortunately," Hermione sighed. "We both have our transformation sessions tonight, remember? You do your griffin thing with Professor McGonagall, and I have phoenix practice with Dumbledore. Later in the week, there's the D.A…, now twice a week. And you have Quidditch, maybe even extra practices, since the match is coming up. I wish I could get a Time-Turner again…."
Her answer instantly deflated Harry, who had - of course - put those various commitments quite to one side. It was difficult for him to think straight when sex was the subject, especially sex with Hermione. Maybe he was just thinking with the wrong head.
"Sorry, I forgot," he muttered as he picked up the pace.
"Not half as sorry as I am," Hermione replied, almost rushing to keep up with him. "Slow down, Harry!"
At that, the boy came to a complete halt so abruptly that Hermione had to spin to avoid running into him.
"Harry, you know we have to be responsible about this," she reproached.
"Why? Nobody else seems to be," Harry grumbled with aggravated tone to his voice. "I mean, look at Ron. He doesn't give a damn about anything but Cho, and he doesn't care who knows it."
"That's true enough about Ron," Hermione answered slowly. "But is his really the example you want to follow? Maybe he doesn't give a damn about anything else because he doesn't have anything else to give a damn about. That's not you - and it never has been."
After a pause, she added, "Besides, next year we're likely to be Heads. Being scandalous is about the only way we could bugger that. We don't have to be chaste, but we do have to be circumspect."
Harry looked at her. She eyed him seriously, a slight pout on her face. He thought she was beautiful - well, all the time, but especially whilst she was being serious. That was when she showed the essence of her Hermioneness.
"That's not you, either," he remarked. "You give a damn about everything."
"Only because I have you, Harry," she replied so softly he had to strain to hear her. "Not too long ago, I didn't give a damn about anything at all, even my life - because I thought I'd lost you. If I care about things as much as you say, it's only because I care about you even more."
She looked up at him. He looked down at her. That was enough looking. Both of them moved to kiss the other. This time they got away with it. Nobody docked points - or even demanded they get a room.
"We just have to be responsible, Harry," she told him when they broke apart. "That's who we are. The staff gave us extra heavy assignments this weekend because it's a Hogsmeade Weekend Saturday next. With Sirius' will, Rita's interview, and now the Animagus training, we haven't anywhere near enough time yet to get all that homework done. So that wipes out today and, I'm afraid, tomorrow too."
"Shite," Harry groaned, but he did not contradict her.
"…Tuesday, I have my first D.A. meeting," Hermione continued, "Wednesday you have Quidditch, and Thursday you have your D.A. meeting…. What about Friday?"
Harry brightened at the thought. "I think it's free," he grinned. "One free day out of five - with only homework to worry about…. We've sure come a long way since First Year, haven't we?"
"We certainly have, Harry," Hermione replied with a thoughtful smile. However, she was thinking about what she was scheduling, not homework. "Let's make it a date, then," she added.
Harry instantly agreed. Thus, a defining moment on their path to adulthood was set. They had a time, now what about a place?
"Just you leave that to me, Harry," Hermione promised. "I swear you won't be disappointed."
"With you, I'm sure I'll never be disappointed," he replied.
It was going to be a long week.
But the wait would be worth it. Both of them believed that.
* * * *
Author's notes: Endorphins are naturally produced chemicals that resemble opioids and produce pleasurable sensations. Some say they are released during orgasms
The magic Hermione's offered would put Lorena Bobbit to shame
Professor McGonagall's no failure rule will have unforeseen consequences
Ginny's mention of Hannah Abbot - recall Ron's cover story for Hermione from the previous chapter
With Ginny, there's always more going on than meets the eye
"Head goblin in charge" is a play on an American phrase that goes by the initials of HNIC
Chrypot is a made up name for a batlike creature that haunts the caverns in which goblins reside
An asterlik is something like a throwing star
Sirius has no canon middle name, so I made one up. Samuel Pepys was a famous British diarist, civil servant, and member of the Royal Society
The names and numbers of the legal proceedings are plausible. Dates correspond to events in the story
The stoppered bottle is of a type that has been used before in this story
"Astra" means "star," and in astronomy "alpha" is the designation of the brightest star in a constellation. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky and is the alpha star in the constellation Canis Major
Of the Marauders, only Remus has a canon middle name, John. The other two are made up
Sirius' will includes all the normal legalese required of such instruments
Tindhólmur is a real place in the Faroes. It is a rather dramatic location
The remainder clause is how Harry inherits the entire Black Estate
According to the Lexicon, JKR once intended that Neville's last name be "Pupp." I've made it his middle name, since he doesn't have one in canon
Asclepius is a Greek mythological healer. The Rod of Asclepius is traditionally depicted with a snake wrapped around it
Eventually Neville will use the staff to good effect
"Smile ran away from his face" is a line from Billy Joel's "Piano Man"
Eventually, I might tell you where Lily got the dowry she needed to marry James
Harry not needing to speak because Hermione is defending him, inspired by the line in The Band's "Up on Cripple Creek"
Hermione met Klamdok in Ch. 32, when it was feared that Harry was dead
"Bankers' hours" means a light work schedule, since it used to be that banks were only open 5 days a week between 10 and 4
Through foreclosure, Harry puts the screws to Malfoy
A column-inch is one inch of a standard newsprint column. Fifteen column inches is a rather long story
Madame Defarge was the brains behind the revolution in Dickens' "Tale of Two Cities." Like Hermione, she knitted
Background is information told to a reporter for his/her benefit only, and not to go into any published article. It can be substantive, or someone's name, including the source
Harry repeats the Bill Clinton "I did not have sex with that woman" line. So, is he lying? If not, then neither was Bill
47
C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.ch51 Padfoot's legacy.doc 1/27/2007
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