Muggle Summer
A/N: A previous version of this chapter was posted for about 90 minutes last Friday, before a spot-on review from Particle Accelerator bothered me enough to pull the chapter back. After axing large portions of Clancyish techno-prose and off-track plot meanders, 4000 words were cut down to 2,100. So then, rather than immediately put it back up, I took the time to write in the lunch scene, thereby tempering the plot twisting narrative with some HHr fluffiness. I think the end results reads better, but perhaps the few that read the original post will be better positioned to comment.
Sorry to everyone who got a chapter posting alert, only to find the chapter gone. I'm working on curbing my narrative enthusiasm.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc., etc.
Chapter 37: Double-Oh-Patriarch
Monday, June 25
The Rookery, London
The next morning, Harry Potter apparated to the Rookery with a case of electronics and some unanswered questions for the house-elves that worked there. Figuring that he ought to find out if he could trust the elves before he broke out the cameras, he called out for Gilbert. The house-elf appeared in an instant.
"Good morning, Patriarch Potter," said Gilbert. "How might I be of assistance?"
Harry frowned at his latest honorific. Bad enough being called the "Boy-Who-Lived," or "The Chosen One", but in just the past four weeks he'd been pronounced to be "Sir Harry," "Clan Chief Potter," "Queen's Wizard," "Lord Gryffindor," and now "Patriarch Potter." He counted the titles on his fingers, and snorted when he realized that he only needed one more to match the Prince.
"Wonder how one goes about becoming `Grand Poobah Potter'?" he thought to himself.
Shaking himself from this thought, he asked the house-elf if what he did or said within the Flat would be held in confidence.
The house-elf looked shocked at the question. "Of course, Patriarch. The first rule of the building is, "What happens at the Rookery, stays at the Rookery."
Harry nodded, and then asked, "Does that kind of discretion include the patriarchs themselves?"
Gilbert nodded. "The Rookery's house elves must never speak about the other Patriarchs and their activities with anyone…even another Patriarch."
"So is there any way any of the other Patriarchs would know I was here, either yesterday or today?"
Gilbert paused, then replied. "It is doubtful, Patriarch Potter. No records are kept or notifications made of when or how the Patriarchs use their flats. House elves and goblins manage the building and all of its finances for the benefit of the Patriarchs. So unless you were seen walking into the building by another Patriarch…"
"I see," said Harry. "Well, Gilbert, you have been most helpful. Thank you for your time and assistance."
Gilbert bowed, but before he disappeared Harry asked, "And just to be certain, what we just discussed will not be shared with any of the other Patriarchs?"
The house elf nodded, then said with a slight smile, "Death before indiscretion, Patriarch Potter. It will be as if I was never here."
Once the house-elf disappeared Harry unpacked the case and set up the cameras and other sensors that could be controlled with telemetry. He'd been given a crash course on what cords went where and the right buttons to push before the trip, but still found it necessary to call Wally for some troubleshooting tips.
Meanwhile, MI-5 agents were busy setting up cameras and a concealed observation post in front of the building. Agents stationed at the site were to call MI-5 3/4's Windsor field office with physical descriptions of anyone entering or leaving the building. By comparing these "eye-witness" descriptions with live camera images, they hoped to be able to account for the potential use of glamour charms. With luck they would catch the faces of at least a few of the patriarchs that chose to walk into the building rather than directly apparate inside.
There were plans for more comprehensive monitoring of the building, but Harry left the details to Wally and Steve. He admired just how quickly the hastily assembled monitoring plan was being implemented, but wasn't big on the "wait and see" approach.. He was (and figured he always would be) a man of action…someone who wanted to bash doors down rather than watch who used them. But as he already had plenty of other things on his plate at the moment, he was content to let this pot simmer, so that he could focus on tasks that hadn't been delegated to others. There were, in fact, six different things he had wanted to do that day in Central London, and he was already behind schedule. And so it was with some relief that he finally got confirmation from Wally back at Windsor that the cameras he set up were working properly. He packed up his things, badge-traveled to the back room of the Weasley's shop, and prepared for his next meeting.
+++
Harry walked confidently down High Street and into the main lobby of Gringott's wearing a blond curly wig and a black eye-patch. The only thing funnier than his appearance was the fact that nobody blinked an eye (hiding in plain sight was easy when everyone expected a powerful wizard like Harry to use magical disguises). He ignored the disgusted looks and protests of bank patrons who thought he was jumping the queue and strode confidently towards a desk located near the back of the lobby.
"Good day, Griphook," he said to the goblin seated behind the desk.
The goblin looked up and said, "Good day, Clan Chief."
Harry took a seat in front of Griphook and pouted. "Aaah, you saw through my disguise. What was it, you read my magical aura? Maybe I tripped some `clan-chief detection wards' on the way in?"
Griphook gave Harry a toothy smile as he stood from his desk, pulled two thick ledgers under his arms, and directed Harry towards a private conference room, "Something far more mundane," he explained. "You are the only wizard to have ever recognized me and called me by name."
As soon as the conference room's door closed Harry pulled off the itchy wig and annoying eye-patch. "Much better," he said to himself. He then asked, "Griphook, what can you tell me about the a flat I now own in a building called `The Rookery'?"
Griphook hummed quietly as he opened up one of ledgers and began to search. Finding the page he was looking for, he said, "One flat, located at 87 Shaftesbury Avenue, Soho, London. Four bedrooms, 3,900 square feet, occupies entire twenty-third floor of building known as `The Rookery.' Acquired by the Potter Estate in 1892 at time of construction. Original purchase price 87,000 galleons. Current estimated value 3.3 million galleons, although restrictive magical covenants bar you from placing it on the open market."
Harry nodded, then asked, "I understand that the building is actually owned by some type of club. Are there annual billings or fees to cover my share of the building maintenance costs and other services?"
The goblin nodded hummed some more as he checked a different section of the same ledger. He then replied, "This past year the sum of 13,000 galleons was withdrawn from the Potter vault. Authorization for these automatic withdrawals was made by your grandfather on behalf of himself and his future heirs. As the Potter Patriarch you may stop these withdrawals, but this action would result in forfeiting your ownership of the property to the organization that holds nominal ownership of the entire building." Griphook looked up from the ledger and asked, :Do you wish me to stop these withdrawals?"
"Erm, no…not just yet," Harry replied. He then noted, "When I visited the property yesterday a house-elf informed me that Gringott's gave notice that I was the new Potter Patriarch and might be soon visiting."
Griphook gave Harry a cautious look, and then replied, "Under the terms of your grandfather's authorization, Gringott's was required to notify The Rookery as soon as the Potter family had a Patriarch. You became the Potter Patriarch last week when you became Queen's Wizard …a letter was sent by secure bank owl and received by a house-elf named Gilbert."
Harry paused, then said, "Please Griphook, don't be nervous…you were only doing your job and fulfilling the bank's obligations, right?"
"Yes, Clan Chief, thank you."
"Please Griphook, it's Harry…especially when it is just the two of us in private, alright?"
Griphook gave Harry a second cautious look, then smiled once more. "As you wish…Harry."
The young wizard then asked, "Did you contact any of the wizards that live there, or belong to the club that runs the place?"
Griphook shook his head. "We deal only with the house-elves. Privacy issues."
Harry smiled when he realized it likely that none of Patriarchs knew he had access to his Rookery flat. Wondering if somebody like the senior Malfoy would know through other means, he asked, "Was anyone else notified when I gained my majority and full control of the Potter estate?"
Griphook sighed, then answered, "A required notification was sent to the Wizengamot."
"Why the Wizengamot?"
The goblin gave Harry a tight-lipped smile. "Most likely because the Potter Patriarch has held a permanent seat on that body for more than 900 years."
Harry accepted this reason, and then sighed. "Any chance that they haven't gotten that message yet, Griphook?"
Griphook paused, then asked, "Would you wish that the Ministry not know?"
When Harry nodded, Griphook's toothy grin returned. "I sent out the required notification to the Wizengamot's office on the day it was attacked. While I have a return receipt that proves the message was delivered, I also know that the magical seal on that envelope was never opened."
Harry cocked his head. "Why do you imagine that is, Griphook?"
The goblin pressed his fingertips together and replied. "I understand that the Wizengamot office was one of more damaged portions of the Ministry. It is possible that the letter was destroyed before anyone could read it."
Harry nodded, and then asked, "Are you going to send another notification?"
Griphook smiled. "Gringott's was obligated to send notification. Gringott's is not obligated to determine whether the notification that was sent was actually read." He then added, "At your instruction we could send a second owl."
Harry thought about the benefits of his voting authority in the Wizengamot secret and realized he knew little about how that body worked. "Not that I would sway anybody's vote right now," he thought to himself.
"I think one notification was sufficient," he decided out loud. "Any one else, then?"
Griphook looked down at the ledger, and then said, "There are a number of individuals and organizations that might be notified whenever an heir reaches his majority. Members of the family are notified, but we have no records of others in the Potter line. Any wizard family that has entered into a betrothal contract with your parents would be notified…"
Harry interrupted. "Would be….not was…right?"
Griphook delayed his response just long enough to see Harry squirm (who said goblins can't have a bit of fun?). "No, Harry, your parents did not obligate you to honor a betrothal contract."
After Harry let out a sigh of relief, Griphook added, "That being said, there are presently forty-seven open betrothal offers to from other Families or Clans."
"Forty-seven different marriage proposals?"
"Yes, Harry."
"That's simply…hard to believe."
Griphook raised what could pass for eyebrows on a goblin's face. "I have the names of the witches right here if you'd like to take a look."
Harry chuckled, then noted, "Well, I couldn't get into too much trouble if all I did was look, right?"
Griphook thought for a moment, then replied tactfully. "It might be argued that a wise and responsible Patriarch should take at least a cursory glance at the list, if only to consider the value of any potential clan alliances."
Harry grinned at Griphook, and asked, "Let's hope that wise and responsible consorts would think the same way if they found out."
A wheezy cough erupted out of Harry's throat when he looked down at the ledger.
"Oh. My. Sweet. Merlin," he exclaimed.
After working through the list he asked, "Is there a reason why so many families would be willing to offer one of their daughters to me?"
The goblin chuckled to himself. "Besides the fact that you are famous, wealthy, and the scion of one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain?"
"Yes, besides that."
After they shared a few more chuckles (who knew that goblins liked a good joke just as much as any other sentient?) Harry asked for a copy of the list, as well as all of the correspondence and documentation associated with each offer. Griphook called another goblin into the room and sent him scurrying with orders to honor this request.
"The records will be available in a few minutes time," said Griphook. The goblin then asked, "Is there anything else, then Clan Chief?"
Harry scowled a bit. "I'm sure that there is, let me take a look at the list Hermione made out for me." He then glanced down at the piece of parchment pulled from his pocket. After a quick glance at his muggle wristwatch, he said, "Merlin, I'm supposed to be over at the Palace in a few minutes. But I also wanted to eat lunch with Hermione."
Harry looked over at Griphook and asked, "What do you think, my friend…Queen or Consort?"
The goblin squinted a bit and pursed his lips, before asking, "Do they serve food at this muggle Palace?"
Harry smiled at the goblin's question. He then stood, shook Griphook's hand, and said that his wisdom went far beyond the world of finance.
+++
Thirty minutes later, Harry answered a badge-call from Hermione.
"Hello, Hermione…how is your meeting going with the goblin ward masters?" he asked.
"Erm, fine…well, better than fine, actually," she replied. "But we're on break…they all just got called away to check on some warding down within the vaults."
"Really?" asked Harry. "Does that mean you have a bit of time for lunch?"
"Imagine so," Hermione replied. "Have a place in mind?"
"Actually, I do…why don't you jump over."
Hermione paused. "Will I remember where I ate afterwards?"
She couldn't see the grin on Harry's face when he replied, "Yes, I think you just might."
The jump took Hermione to an elegantly-decorated room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three sides and large windows within the fourth. A gentle breeze passed through these windows, bringing the scent of freshly-mown grass into the room where it mixed and mingled with the scent of century-old books and Beef Burgundy (the later coming from a table within the room's center, elegantly set for lunch). The intoxicating combination of aromas nearly made Hermione's knees buckle.
"Little woozy from the jump?" Harry asked cheekily.
Hermione shook her head as she turned to the sound of Harry's voice. She startled at just how handsome he looked in his dark-olive two-piece suit, shirt and tie. She looked down at the workday robe she was wearing and frowned.
"Wish you had told me that lunch was a formal affair, Harry."
"You've got a wardrobe full of new clothes here, if you like," he replied with a grin. "But it is just the two of us here, and I think you look beautiful just as you are."
She nodded as she took a second look at her surroundings. "We're at the Palace, then?"
Harry nodded. "Welcome to the Royal Wizard's Suite….would you rather take a tour or eat lunch?"
Hermione looked towards the room's closed door, then over at the table of food. Focusing beyond the table towards one of the bookcases, she resisted the urge to add browsing as a third option, and suggested that they eat while the food was still hot.
Harry nodded as he pulled out a chair for her.
"Quite the gentleman, Harry," she said.
"Well, comes with the territory, I imagine," Harry replied, as he took his own seat and lifted up his already-filled wine glass. "A toast?" he asked.
Hermione's thoughts drifted back towards Gringott's and her unfinished work. But the label on the open wine bottle was just to intriguing, and Harry just too handsome, for her to care. She raised her glass towards Harry.
He smiled and proposed, "To fairy tales with happy endings."
The breath that got caught in her throat kept Hermione from replying. With moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes she clinked her glass against Harry's.
"To our happy endings," she replied.
It took a few minutes for either to be inclined to start up a conversation.
Harry finally asked about Hermione's meeting with the ward masters. She happily reported that the goblins were thrilled with her successful bench-scale demonstration of attenuated anti-apparition fields. There was a lot of work left to do with power boosting and spell focusing before they could recreate this success on a full-scale model, but these were already-established processes, and the ward masters were confident that they'd have a marketable process by week's end.
Harry smiled and congratulated Hermione on her success. "So do you think this means we'll have wards up at Windsor by week's end?" he asked.
Hermione nodded. "I might know for sure later today. They're bringing the Director of Warding Services in this afternoon to start negotiating a licensing agreement."
"Wow, that's great Hermione…do you have any ideas on how much your ideas are worth?"
Hermione hemmed and hawed a bit, before Harry encouraged her to not be so modest.
"The ward masters think that by reducing the boundaries down to the exact footprint of the warded area they'll reduce their power requirements by an average of 25%. But they also think that they can charge at least 10% more for "custom-tailored" wards."
"So they can charge more for something that will cost them less to build?"
Hermione nodded. "They started talking about either selling the idea to them outright, or granting them an exclusive license to use it."
"Wonderful," said Harry. "I'm so proud of you…so which way are you thinking?"
"Not sure," Hermione replied. "I'm thinking of offering a trade instead…I let them use my attenuation mods, and they teach me how to build wards that block magical detection."
Harry thought about Hermione's statement, before his eyes lit up. "With those kind of wards up over a building, underage wizards could practice their magic!"
Hermione smiled. "Exactly what I was thinking."
Harry couldn't contain his enthusiasm, and almost jumped across the table to give Hermione a hug. "Oh, that's simply brilliant, Hermione."
Before Harry could turn his admiration into a snogfest Hermione asked how his morning had gone. Harry sighed, then sat back down and recounted his adventures within the Rookery flat. He then jumped over his meeting with Griphook to describe his introduction to staff at Buckingham Palace. Harry had met most of the Queen's Palace security detail, as well as the chief of Palace security, whom he described as a bit "Snape-ish."
"How so?" Hermione asked.
"Well, he was a bit put-off that he had to give me a tour of their command center…thought that the `Queen's little magician' didn't have a good enough reason to know."
"So what happened?"
"Steve sat him down for a little chat," he replied. "And he gave you and me some new identification badges to deal with the bureaucratic git." Harry then reached into his pocket, pulled out a plastic ID card, and passed it across the table.
Hermione's eyes widened, and she gave Harry a questioning look. He responded by flipping his own palace staff ID around to show an identical badge.
"So is this just a fake ID for cover?" she asked.
Harry shook his head. "Afraid not," he replied. "They don't want there to be any questions about our authority to lead others in the defense of the Royal Family." He then stood up straight and extended his hand. "Agent Granger, welcome to Her Majesty's Secret Service."
Hermione shook her head, not sure that she liked the idea.
Harry noticed her concern, and said, "Look on the bright side, Hermione. They're starting us with mid-grade commissions."
"So?"
Harry smiled. "So how many other teenagers do you know that outrank their parents?"
Hermione broke out into a small smile, and then asked, "Well that's all fine and good, but the real question is whether or not I outrank my boyfriend."
Harry grinned, and then replied, "They initially wanted to put me a couple of grades higher than you, but then I asked if that would prevent me from snogging a junior officer."
"So what happened?"
"I made them demote me down to your rank."
Hermione laughed, then walked over and gave him a hug. "Oh, Secret Agent Potter, how romantic."
Harry paused, then chuckled at her response. "Merlin, there's another one."
"Another what, Harry?"
"Another title…ties me up with the Prince."
"Really?" Hermione asked. "I didn't know it was a competition."
Harry shook his head. "It isn't really. There's only one title that I really care about…and chuck the rest."
"And what title would that me?"
Harry placed a kiss on her forehead and replied, "Hermione's boyfriend."
Hermione looked into Harry's eyes before snorting and pulling him into a hug.
"Oh, Harry," she cooed. "I wish that I didn't have to go back to that meeting right now."
Harry looked at his wristwatch and said, "You don't need to be back for another forty-five minutes."
"Really?" asked Hermione. "And just how might you know that, Mr. Potter?"
Harry smiled and said, "Griphook assured me that the ward inspections would take at least an hour-and-a-half to complete."
Hermione shook her head, deciding whether to admonish Harry for his scheming, or praise him for his ingenuity. Some ear nibbling forced the issue.
"So Harry," she said, "you promised to give me a tour of the Royal Wizard's suite?"
Harry stopped chewing on an earlobe so that he could whisper in her ear. "Any particular room you might be interested in, Hermione?"
She pulled him into an even-tighter embrace and nodded. "Don't suppose they gave you a broom closet?"
Harry smiled as he shook his head. "Sorry," he whispered, "No broom closets. I do have a rather large master bedroom at my disposal, though."
It was Hermione's turn to smile as she broke the embrace, grabbed his hand, and started pulling him towards the door.
"Guess that will have to do."
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