A/N: Well here I am after a long absence - yes, I know, seems to be the rule rather than the exception with me. Much of this chapter is a long-planned bomb right in the middle of early canon. And while it might appear like an indulgence on my part at this time, it really is mostly a way to empower Harry like he should been empowered in the original story. Take that JK!
Year Two Chapter Twenty
Summer 1992
"Mum!"
"Yes, Hermione?" she called, her voice wafting up the stairs and into my room.
"Are you sure I can't use magic to do something about my teeth…?"
No response was immediately forthcoming, and I cocked my head at my reflection to listen for further words from my mother. I was currently standing in my room on the morning of the second day of summer, staring at myself and judging what I saw rather critically. My tangled hair and my buckteeth had never been a huge issue for me-though they were always in the background of my self-consciousness-but now that I was home for the summer…
I could literally feel the weight of time pressing down on me. That strangely reflective feeling I had felt at Christmas upon coming home after the autumn session was back again, except now it was magnified by a year's passage, rather than only three and a half months. The Hermione that stood before this mirror was two inches taller, ten months older, and just a little more of a woman than the Hermione that had left for Hogwarts at the end of the previous summer. My appearance was not very high on my list of priorities, but I began to feel the need to take some pride in the way I looked. And, honestly, my front teeth were the first things on a short list that I wanted to fix.
These reflections all passed within the space of several seconds, and I was still gazing at my doppelganger when I heard my mother's footsteps on the stairs. She had chosen to come confront me rather than continuing this conversation across the entire house. I turned my shorts-and-tank-top-clad body expectantly toward the door; a moment later, my mother appeared, already frowning slightly at my question. She stood there looking at me with an inscrutable expression in her eyes. I just lifted my eyebrows at her, waiting for whatever reprobation she would send my way.
"Hermione…" was all that came out at first, and she moved into my room, sitting on my bed. She continued to regard me.
"You know that we have been over this before, in your letters," she eventually pointed out. I took a deep breath, placed my hands on my hips, and shook my hair out of my face. The summer humidity was wreaking havoc on it.
"Yes, but all that you and dad said was to wait until the summer so we could discuss it more. Well, I waited, and now we're discussing it," I replied. My eyes shifted to the left as I was momentarily distracted by the room suddenly brightening threefold. The late June sun-in fact, it was the day after the summer solstice-had appeared magically, it seemed, from behind a puffy fair-weather cloud. For some reason, I missed Harry in that moment.
"What do you think is wrong with your teeth?" she asked, and I glared at her. It was a loaded question and her innocent look told me she knew as much.
"Oh, come on, you're a dentist, don't play games with me, mum!" And even though my frustration was quickly becoming palpable, a smile still tugged at the corners of her lips.
"Enlighten me," she said, simply. I off-handedly noticed how the sunlight glinted beautifully off her sleek hair, so similar to mine in color but not in style.
"How about the fact that I look like a beaver?" I queried. "My front teeth are far too large for the rest of my face."
"You will most likely grow into them, Hermione," she told me, in what I thought was a very patronizing tone.
"So you agree with me that they are huge?"
She shrugged. I thought she was being far too casual about this. "Very few people have perfect teeth, and you know that. Other than your front teeth-which may be a little large in comparison to the rest-all your teeth are white, you are cavity-less, and they are straight. You cannot really ask for more, Hermione."
"But, Mum," I started, wincing at the sound of my own voice as I whined a little bit, "if magic can fix this quickly, painlessly, and easily, why won't you let me?"
The smile slipped from her features. "So is it always about magic now?"
For just a moment, I was confused. My logical brain did not comprehend the relevancy of her question, which seemed to be rather incongruous to the matter at hand. Then, with lightning speed, I realized something really fairly obvious that changed my perspective on my parents forever: magic was completely foreign to them, dangerous and uncontrollable even, and if they let me fix my teeth with my newfound capabilities, they would lose their sway over their daughter even in the realm of their professional lives. Call it a last-ditch attempt to maintain at least one normal parental conceit over their progeny, but I understood it at the time less verbally and more emotionally. I immediately softened my stance and my voice.
"No, not always, mum," I responded. I moved to sit beside her on the bed. "But you do understand that it is a very important part of my life now, right?"
"Of course, dear," she said, wrapping an arm around me and resting her chin on the top of my head. "How could I not?"
I nodded. "Good, because it isn't going away."
"I know," she told me, and I could hear that whisper of a smile back in her voice. "Truthfully, your father and I are amazed at how happy you seem, which is a strong argument in favor of magic for us."
"Is my attitude really that different?" I wondered, more to myself than to her.
She chuckled lightly. "You might not see it, but we certainly do. You are a changed girl-no, young woman-Hermione. The girl that left this house last September changed into a young woman who is not merely on autopilot, not only coasting through her classes, and no longer spends an entire summer cooped up in her reading chair in her favorite corner."
"But I've only been home for two days, mum," I said, unable to believe my parents had seen such a radical shift in my personality in such a short time. I didn't feel like a different person.
"Have you started on your homework for next year yet?"
"No," I said, "but-"
"Have you really even stopped smiling since you got home?"
"Umm…"
"Have you stopped talking about Harry and Sally and Ron and Neville at all?"
I blushed. "No, I guess not. And I haven't started my homework yet because I want to do it with my friends when we get together in a few weeks."
"Exactly," mum said. We both looked at each other. "Hogwarts and magic may be incomprehensible to me and your father, but we certainly see and understand the positive effects it has had on your life." I continued to look at her. "For the first time in your life, Hermione, you seem genuinely happy. And you have friends your age to turn to now, rather than just your parents. We'll always be there for you, no matter what, but you seem to be finding your place in the world and we are so very proud of you."
I couldn't help it. I had tears at the corners of my eyes. I smiled heartily at mum and chuckled as I wiped the tears away, leaning over and hugging her tightly.
"Thanks mum," I told her.
"You're very welcome," she replied. "Now, as for your teeth, I will speak to your father when he gets home tonight." Dad was at their practice while mum had taken the week off to be with me for my first week home. And because that was the best I could hope for, for now at least, I quietly acquiesced.
Before anything else could be said, the phone rang. Mum ran her hand through my hair one more time before pushing off my bed and leaving the room. I listened as she padded down the hall toward my parents' bedroom, where they had cordless phone. I heard her pick up the receiver.
"Hello?" … "Yes, this is she." … "Oh, hello Harry! Of course!"
As soon as I'd heard the name of my best friend, my heart rate spiked and I sped out of my room. I met mum coming out of her room with the phone in her hand. I hoped nothing was wrong with Harry!
Her eyebrow tweaked upward at the expression on my face before handing the phone to me. "It's Harry," she said.
"Yes, yes," I answered, waving her off. I started back to my room. "Harry?" I queried, after placing the phone to my ear.
"Hermione?" came the familiar voice.
"Yup! How are you?" I wondered.
"Oh, I'm mostly fine," he told me. I had now entered my room. "But my bloody relatives locked all of my magical stuff away so I can't even write any of you. They padlocked Hedwig into her cage!" he exclaimed, and the amount of affront in his voice was almost comical. If this wasn't my best friend calling, and if he hadn't been clearly distressed about something, I suppose I might have laughed. As it was, though, there was only concern coursing through me.
"Harry, what's wrong? And when did they do all of that?"
"The day we got home from Hogwarts. They picked me up from the station about fifteen minutes after you left and as soon as we got home, they locked everything away."
"How come you're just calling now then?" I was sitting at my desk partially facing my door, and mum was standing there, watching and listening.
"This is the first opportunity I've had to use the phone. My uncle is at work, my aunt is out shopping, and Dudley is off somewhere with his friends."
"They don't let you use the telephone?" I asked, not able to believe that simple fact. For some reason, on top of all the other injustices I'd heard about, this seemed the most grievous. His relatives really were beasts that would have to be dealt with some day.
"Hermione, they hardly allow me out of my room. Why would they let me use the telephone? To them, I'm not worthy of having friends." Bitterness had invaded his voice during that last statement.
"You are, Harry. You most definitely are. I'm proud to call you my friend, and you know that."
There was a pause, then: "Thanks, Hermione. You know I feel the same way. But now to the reason why I called-that first night back I got a message via owl from Gringotts. Luckily it flew into my bedroom, otherwise my relatives probably would have had a fit. They want me to come to the bank at my earliest convenience so they can discuss some things about my inheritance."
I was silent for a moment. This was news, indeed. Harry had been personally contacted by the Wizarding bank, Gringotts, because they wanted to discuss with him some things about his inheritance. As the last Potter-as far as I knew and as far as he'd hinted-I'd assumed something like this was coming, but not for a few years at least. After all, Harry was still only eleven.
"Hermione? You there?"
"Yes, sorry," I quickly said. "Was just thinking."
I heard him laugh. "Somehow I'm not surprised. But, really, what am I going to do? I can't get to Gringotts and I can't even write them to let them know."
I needed to think about the problem for only two seconds. Looking at my mom, I spoke into the phone. "Why don't we make a trip to Diagon Alley today? It's still early in the summer, but we could get whatever we need for next that we don't already have. Mum's home and she might be able to take us?" The last sentence became a question as I raised an eyebrow at mum.
"Do you think she would do that?" Harry asked, relief flooding his voice.
"Mum?" I asked, directing my question to her. "Fancy a trip to Surrey, then Diagon Alley?" I smiled my best, most charming smile at her.
"What's going on, Hermione?" mum asked. She had only heard my side of the conversation.
"Harry was contacted by the Wizarding bank because they want to discuss his inheritance, but he has no way to get there and no way to tell them that."
She looked confused. "Doesn't he have an owl?"
I pursed my lips. "Yes, but his relatives are preventing him from using Hedwig."
She narrowed her eyes at this. "Are his relatives home right now? Because if they are, I'd like to have a word with them." She reached for the phone.
"They're not, mum. That's how Harry can call now." I wondered if I'd said too much-mum looked shocked and appalled. I hoped I hadn't broken Harry's confidence in me.
"Then yes, of course we'll help Harry. Tell him to expect us in thirty or forty minutes."
"Did you hear that, Harry?" I asked, once again directing my voice into the phone. "Mum said she'd take us to the Alley!"
"Awesome, Hermione! You're brilliant, and so is your mum! Tell her I said thank you, please."
"I'll do that. She said to be ready for us in thirty or forty minutes. Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, right?"
"Good memory," he said. "So I'll see you soon?"
"Yes!" I told him.
"Great! See you in a few," he signed off, and hung up the phone. I smiled at mum again as I handed the phone back to her. It looked like I'd get to see Harry much sooner than I'd anticipated. When Dumbledore said that Harry would have to stay at his relatives' for two weeks, I had assumed that would be the duration of our separation. That had just been shortened to less than two days.
"Ready to leave now?" mum asked, leaving the room to hang up the phone.
"I just have to find my flip-flops, then I'll be ready!" I yelled back, rushing out of my room and down the stairs. I hadn't brought my sandals to Hogwarts, and they hadn't turned up since I came home.
"They're in the closet by the front door," mum yelled back, her voice coming down the stairs. I ended up finding them exactly where she said they were, albeit in the back and under two other pairs of shoes. I extracted myself from the closet and put the sandals on as mum came down the stairs. She plucked her car keys from the bowl on the table by the door, slipped on her own flip-flops, and off we went. I was fairly bouncing in my seat as our journey to Surrey continued.
Mum couldn't help but laugh every few minutes at my excitement. I didn't care, though, because this was an unexpected and welcome surprise. It had been odd, these last few days, without Harry, Ron, Sally, and Neville around; we were in each other's company almost every waking moment while at Hogwarts, so this sudden separation was a bit jarring. It was just another hazard of the boarding life that I had recently discovered.
We reached Harry's house on Privet Drive around 11:30 in the morning; it was a bright sunny day with a few of the aforementioned puffy clouds; there was a light breeze cooling our warm skin as we stepped up the drive toward the front door. Privet Drive was a picture of suburban serenity-or perhaps the stuff suburban nightmares are made of-and this house was no different, literally and figuratively, from all the others I could see on the street. As we neared the front door, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. The front curtains were swinging behind their window.
Before we could ring the doorbell, the door was thrown open and Harry greeted us with a smile. I moved forward and hugged him. As we came apart, he looked toward mum.
"Thank you for this, Mrs. Granger. I have no idea what the goblins want and, well, this is about my family, so I don't know how much longer I could have waited."
She smiled at Harry, though she was confused. "Goblins?"
I suddenly realized that I had never been in the company of goblins before, either. I'd heard Harry talk about them on a few occasions, especially with regard to the Philosopher's Stone, but both times I'd been in the Alley, I had no reason to go Gringotts. With Harry, however, it seemed there was reason enough.
"Goblins run Wizarding banks, mum," I explained. "Odd that, really, considering magical people trust them with their money but little else."
"Are they, err…monstrous?" she asked, obviously unsure of how to phrase her question. Harry smiled at her, a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, and shook his head. He knew what she meant.
"No, but they can be a little fierce. So don't be surprised if they're rather abrupt."
"Ok." She looked past Harry into the house. "Are your relatives back, Harry?"
"Nope. I have no idea when they'll be back."
"Do they do this often, Harry?" I asked. "Leave you to yourself?"
He shrugged. "As long as I don't come out of my room except for meals or ever mention magic at the table, they pretty much leave me alone. I think they're afraid I might do magic on them, even though I'm still underage." He grinned maniacally at that. I laughed at the glee in his eyes, though I doubted he would actually do something to them. Little did I know how deep his dislike of the Dursleys ran, or how much they had actually neglected him over the years. Later in our Hogwarts career, when the full story of his childhood came out, he would have to hold me back from Apparating to Four Privet Drive and cursing the shite out of them.
Mum frowned at this information, but decided to say nothing. "Ok then, shall we?" she asked, and we both eagerly nodded.
We had made it halfway down the steps when Harry stopped, a forlorn look on his face.
"What is it?" I asked.
"My wand-it's locked in the cupboard under the stairs." He looked back at the house. "What if I need it for something while we're in the Alley?"
"I'm sure you can manage with your good looks, Harry," mum said, guiding us to the car. She had a smile on her face.
"Thanks, Mrs. Granger," Harry replied, sounding slightly less sad. I noticed, however, that he did have a parchment in his hand.
"Is that the letter Gringotts sent?" I questioned, pointing at the parchment as we got into the car. He nodded and passed it to me. It said:
Dear Lord Harry James Potter,
It has recently come to our attention that certain matters regarding your inheritance remain unresolved, even though you are now approaching your twelfth birthday. We apologize sincerely for this oversight and wish to rectify this situation as soon as possible. Please come to Gringotts in Diagon Alley at your earliest convenience and ask for your account manager, Vinx.
Most sincerely,
Gringotts Bank - United Kingdom, Diagon Alley
"Lord Potter?" I wondered, looking at him. He returned my gaze with wide eyes, ultimately shrugging and looking as perplexed as I felt.
"What do you mean, dear?" mum asked.
"This letter Harry received from the Wizarding bank is addressed to Lord Harry James Potter."
"Really?" There was surprise evident in her voice.
"Yes, really. It appears that Harry here is a member of the nobility," I responded. Actually putting into words what the title of Lord meant made it even more unreal. "How come you never said anything?" I asked Harry, staring at him.
"I never knew," he answered, quietly. "Until Hagrid told me the truth last summer, my relatives led me to believe that my parents killed themselves in a drunk driving accident. I had no idea my father was Lord James Potter."
"If you really are Lord Harry Potter, your father might not have ever been a Lord," mum said. We both looked at her in the rearview; she glanced back at us every now and then.
"How so, mum?" I wondered.
"Noble titles are always passed down through the oldest living male heir of any family. So if you grandfather was still alive while your father lived, your father would have never been Lord. That is why the vast majority of Noble men are very old, at least in their fifties."
"Makes sense," Harry said, looking out his window. Our journey back into London was progressing nicely, and we would be on Charing Cross road near the Leaky Cauldron in another twenty minutes. "But why am I just finding out about all of this now? Surely if my grandfather were still alive when my father was killed, I wouldn't have been sent to the Dursleys?"
"And even if he wasn't," I said, partially answering or acknowledging Harry's question, "how could a Lord be sent to such despicable people?" My voice had lowered into a growl as I thought of what I knew they had done to Harry.
Harry laid a hand over mine and squeezed. "It's ok, Hermione. I have friends I know I can count on now. That's all that matters to me." A warm feeling spread from that hand through my body, eventually resulting in a large smile spreading across my face.
The rest of the trip passed into idle speculation about the nature of the request; what kind of oversight could Gringotts have noticed, and how did that apply to Harry's account? If he was the last male heir of his family, why was he just finding about his inheritance? The questions were endless, and it looked Harry had thought for quite some time about this, because most of them came from him. I could tell that he was desperately hoping for not only relevant answers but also some connection to his family history; I hoped for his sake that the goblins were able to provide this, because if there was one thing in this world that Harry desired, it was family. I remembered the Mirror of Erised and the power it had briefly held over my friend.
Mum parked in the car park near the Leaky Cauldron and we hoofed it the rest of the way. As we passed through the small pub, Tom greeted us once again by name. I tapped the bricks and watched, still mesmerized, as they parted for us. Harry led the way through and my mum and I followed him into the Alley proper. It appeared to be a rather slow day, because there were only two or three dozen witches and wizards moving about doing their business, so we headed for Gringotts unimpeded. I thought a few of them might have recognized Harry, but only because the cut of their eyes led me to believe they were looking at his scar. Harry seemed oblivious to this, though, and determinedly led us to his destination.
The large, white marble building stood out from the rest in the Alley, and mum marveled at the intricacy of the architecture as we ascended the stairs toward the lobby. My mum and I got our first sight of goblins as the two guarding the doors came into view: they were rather short, greenish-brown figures with pointed ears, large fangs, and scruffy hair. They did not move or make a sound as we walked past them into the cool silence of the bank.
The setup was much like a Muggle bank, with tellers at various windows, though more medieval in feel. The large lobby was lit by torches and there appeared to be a tunnel hewn out of the rough rock beneath our feet leading away from one corner. Harry approached an unoccupied teller with mum and me on his heels.
"Excuse me, sir?" he said, politely. The goblin leaned over the tall desk and looked down at him.
"May I help you?"
"Er, yes," Harry said. "I'm Harry Potter and I received this letter-"
"I'll take that," the goblin interrupted, snatching the proffered letter from Harry's outstretched hand. "Ah yes, this seems to be in order. Give me just a moment, Lord Potter, and I will have Vinx summoned." The goblin teller turned and walked out of sight through a set of double doors, but not before eyeing me and mum for a moment. It wasn't a hostile gaze, but it wasn't exactly friendly either.
I took a moment to look around the lobby more closely. Every new detail that I saw reaffirmed my original impression that this place was gothic incarnate.
"Certainly gives Hogwarts a run for her money, right Harry?" I said, rhetorically.
He nodded silently, glancing around the lobby. His eyes kept returning to the door through which the teller had slipped, though. And we did not have to wait long, because shortly thereafter, the teller returned with a rather more regal looking goblin, both in dress and also stature.
"Lord Potter! Delighted to meet you!" the goblin exclaimed, smiling and showing many pointy fangs. Mum might have winced and my eyes might have opened a little wider than they already were, but Harry just took it coolly. The goblin bowed before him.
"Vinx?" Harry questioned. He stepped forward and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."
The goblin regarded Harry's hand from his bowed position for just a moment; suddenly, he straightened and, if anything, his fierce smile widened. He accepted Harry's handshake vigorously.
"Ah, how like your father you are!" the goblin said, genuine joy seeming to color his voice. "He also had a distinct attitude toward the prejudices the rest of your magical friends have-which is to say he completely disregarded them. We called your father friend here at Gringotts-like his father before him and his father, too, and so on-so I hope we can do the same for you."
Harry had wonder in his eyes. "You knew my father?"
Vinx finally dropped Harry's hand. "Of course, Lord Potter. He often visited with his father, your grandfather." Vinx's eyes turned toward me and mum. "And who are these lovely ladies?"
"Oh!" Harry jumped, and turned toward us with a sheepish grin on his face. "Sorry, you two. This is Hermione Granger, my best friend from school, and this is her mum."
Mum and I stepped forward, also shaking the goblin's hand. I noticed Vinx was careful not to cut me with his short, sharp claws.
"Jane Granger, pleased to meet you," mum said.
Vinx was totally grinning now. "More who disregard the idiotic attitudes! I love this!"
Jane smiled in return at the enthusiastic goblin. "Actually, I'm a Muggle, so I only found out about goblins today. And I must say, so far I am very impressed," mum said, handling herself very well.
Vinx looked at Harry knowingly after shaking our hands. "So it seems befriending and tolerating other magical species as well as Muggles and Muggleborns runs in your family, Lord Potter. As I originally said, delighted!"
A chuckling and very happy goblin led us through the double doors down a wide hallway. After about fifty paces, during which the hall gently curved to the left, we stopped at one of the many doors. The letters on the frosted glass indicated that this was Vinx's office, and that he was an account manager. We entered the large, comfortable office and, as Vinx went around to sit behind his desk, he directed us to three of the chairs facing him.
"Please, please, have a seat, and we can get started," he said. As we sat down, I noticed that Harry looked quite nervous, so I reached for his hand. He squeezed mine with his and gave me a grateful look.
"So, Lord Potter, do you know why you are here?" Vinx asked, while organizing some parchment on his desk.
Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "No sir. I understand what your letter says, but I don't know what it means."
Vinx chuckled. "Ah, I see. And please, just call me Vinx."
"Then just Harry please," he returned, with a smile.
Vinx inclined his head. "As you wish. Now, as we will be discussing some rather sensitive issues regarding your accounts today, I want to make sure that you approve of these women hearing it."
"Of course. I have no secrets from Hermione, and I don't mind if her mum hears any of it. I guess I don't really know what we're going to be talking about today, though." Harry glanced at me; I gave him a reassuring nod and silently thanked him for trusting us. Mum was listening and watching.
"We can proceed. Do you have your wand, Harry?" His shoulders immediately slumped, and I squeezed his hand. I knew how much he hated to have all of his magical things locked up by his relatives.
"No, I don't. My relatives took away all of my magical things for the summer," he stated, dully. For the briefest of moments, Vinx looked absolutely outraged. It passed so quickly that I doubt Harry saw it.
"I see…" Vinx considered for several seconds. "Would you consent to providing a drop of blood, just so we can verify that you are in fact, Harry James Potter?"
Harry looked mystified, but nodded anyway. Mum and I watched silently as Vinx pricked Harry's finger and collected a single drop of blood on a dark purple parchment. After several seconds, the parchment turned red. Vinx nodded and put the parchment away, apparently satisfied.
"Not that I had any doubts, but we can never be too careful, especially regarding one of our oldest and most esteemed accounts."
This piqued my curiosity and I perked up. "Oldest?"
"Indeed. The Potter name goes back as far as we have reliable records, and most likely much farther."
Harry said nothing, instead keeping to a sort of shocked silence. I just turned this information over in my head. So Harry was apparently a Lord with a vast family history; the first twinge of doubt entered my mind at this information. What could a Lord want with a silly little girl like me? I should have known that titles, land, and wealth would mean little to Harry, especially if he didn't have anyone with whom to share those things.
"I'm beginning to understand the magnitude of the gaps in your knowledge, Harry, and I mean no insult," Vinx said, leaning back in his chair. "But before we get to all of that, I need to explain why we sent that letter." He paused here, appearing to consider something for a moment. "All of our accounts are tied by familial blood to a set of wards that dictate the status of said accounts. For instance, if the bearer of the account passes away, the wards are keyed to let us know if there are any soluble heirs-by blood or bequest-to claim the holdings. With our most ancient accounts, of which yours is one, these wards have been empowered by a millennium or more of ambient magic, making them some of the strongest and most reliable magical sources of knowledge in the world.
"When your parents died, Harry, we were the first to know that you had not died with them. Our wards are configured to alert us of sudden changes in the bearers of accounts, and although your father was not Lord Potter when he died, the future mantle of Lord was passed onto you. We knew this because you were still alive. Your grandfather passed away soon after that Halloween in 1981-you did not know this?"
Harry's flabbergasted look had prompted the question. He shook his head and glanced at me; there were a whole host of emotions playing in his green eyes, many of which were beyond articulation. Here was his family, his history, his heritage…and he had known nothing. I wondered who could have withheld this information for so long? My thoughts could only lead me to Dumbledore.
"I guess I am not surprised, considering other things,' Vinx muttered. "Anyway, when your grandfather passed away, the title of Lord Potter was held in trust until you reached your majority… Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Excuse me, Vinx, but reached? Is that a hypothetical or a true past tense?" I wondered. Vinx grinned at me.
"Glad to see you have sharp friends, Harry. It is true past tense-Harry, you became Lord Potter on your eleventh birthday, a little less than a year ago."
There it was. The bomb had been dropped. It was one thing seeing "Lord Potter" at the top of the letter Harry had received, but to hear it from the Potter's supposed longtime account manager was something else. Harry Potter, my best friend from my first year at Hogwarts, was magical nobility.
"Uh, what?" Harry asked. He looked at me and mum, then back to Vinx. "So I'm really a Lord? But what does that even mean? And if that's true, why did I not hear about it when I turned eleven, or before?"
"All very relevant questions, Harry," Vinx said, nodding at Harry. "When your parents died, their wills were sealed by the Ministry for Magic for unknown reasons, but as the magical heir was still alive-you-we did not pursue the matter then. We assumed you would show up on your eleventh birthday to claim your birthright, by necessity unsealing your parents' wills and putting the Potter accounts to rights after nearly a decade of flux."
"But I did come here on my birthday last year," Harry said. "I was with Hagrid. How come nothing was said to me then?"
"We would have, except he had your vault key. This was highly unusual and very suspect, so rather than startle you with the information and alert a possible thief to your true standing, we decided to investigate the issue as quietly as we could. Let me ask you this: do you have your vault key now?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, but it's locked up with the rest of my things at my relatives'."
"No problem, really. I was just curious. That does not mean, however, the person from whom Hagrid acquired that key does not have a copy. Copying vault keys is highly illegal and carries of heavy penalty, but it has been done. I would suggest, at your earliest convenience, that we re-key your vaults, both to a new physical key and also to your blood."
"Sure, whatever you think is necessary," Harry said, sounding quite overwhelmed. He thought for a moment. "Hermione," he said, turning to me, "do you think Dumbledore has anything to do with all of this?"
I nodded. "I was thinking along those lines."
He turned back to Vinx with a sour look on his face. "So what did your investigation uncover?"
"Without your parents' wills, it was difficult to really ascertain anything concrete, but it appears that some powerful force within the ministry had their wills locked down while sending you straight from the ruins of your parents' house to live with your relatives. We knew you were alive before you arrived here last summer, but we could never find you. There appear to be powerful wards at your relatives' house, which blocked most of our attempts to contact you. We were surprised you received our letter this summer, and were resigned to contacting you when you had returned to Hogwarts.
"Though these things all amount to what looks like a nefarious plot to gain control of your title and all its accoutrements, detailed audits have revealed nothing out of order. Whoever did this seems to have wanted to keep you ignorant of your family's history and wealth, and nothing more."
"Nothing more?" I asked. "How about having Harry grow up mentally, verbally, and probably physically abused by his awful relatives? How about denying Harry the knowledge that his family had a history and a title, not to mention the fact that his parents were nobles instead of drunkards that killed themselves? Who would do something like that?" I asked all these things, keeping my eyes on Harry, even though I was sure it had been Dumbledore. I couldn't for the life of me fathom why the Headmaster would do something like that. Harry nodded at my questions, looking rather pained.
Vinx was quiet for a few seconds, looking at us. I briefly thought I'd offended him. But his next words allayed that fear: "Right you are, Miss Granger. I apologize for misspeaking. How about we mollify some of those questions? Harry, I have something here for you." Vinx opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small jeweler's box. He pushed it across the top of the desk toward Harry.
"Go ahead, open it."
Harry hesitantly reached for the box. I watched as his hand closed around it. He looked up at Vinx as he brought it back to his body. As he opened it, he looked down, and I gasped at what was revealed. Mum, who had so far been silent, also made a noise of surprise. Inside the box was one of the most beautiful and elegant rings I had ever seen. It looked to be made of white gold or platinum and had a large ruby setting, with what looked a small family crest engraved at the top of the stone. Harry stared at it wondrously.
"This is your birthright, Harry," Vinx explained. "By putting on that ring, you claim your Lordship and ascend to the rank of Lord Potter, with all of its attendant privileges, wealth and lands."
I kept hearing about these lands and privileges, but so far Vinx had not been forthcoming about what being Lord Potter actually meant. Before I could ask, though, Harry spoke, still gazing at the ring.
"It's beautiful, Vinx."
"It is," Vinx replied, smiling. "Your grandfather was the last person to wear that ring. It is pure platinum with a four carat ruby. The engraving you see on the stone is your family crest, which most prominently features a hippogriff with the ancient sword and poleaxe of your family. It has been magically restored and preserved several times over the course of history, but that ruby is most likely from the time of the late Roman empire, as far as we can tell."
I stared at the 1500 year old stone as Harry removed the ring from the box, which he placed back on the desk. He took a deep breath, sliding the ring on the ring fourth finger of his right hand. I felt a pulse of magic and there was a small flash of light, centered on the ring, and when my eyes cleared I saw that it had resized to fit his finger.
Vinx cleared his throat, and all of our attention refocused on him. "You may now seal your rightful place as Lord Potter."
Harry stared blankly at him.
"I think he wants you to say something," I whispered, nudging Harry with my arm.
"Oh! I, uh, claim the title of Lord Potter."
As soon as the words were out of Harry's mouth, another flash of magic swept through the office, and Vinx's desk was suddenly cluttered with various documents that had appeared out of thin air.
"Congratulations, Harry. You are now the Head of a Noble and Ancient House. As you can see by the things that just appeared, the lack of a rightful Head for the last ten years has left some unfinished business, not all of which is important at the moment-but some of these things we should get to right now."
The phrase "Noble and Ancient House" triggered something in my memory, something that I had read the previous summer in a magical history book. I couldn't contain myself so I interrupted before Vinx could proceed.
"I'm sorry, but you said Noble and Ancient House?" I questioned. "So does that mean that one of Harry's ancestors was a Knight of the Round?"
"Very astute, Miss Granger," Vinx replied, grinning once again. "All of the original Most Noble and Ancient Houses were instantiated in 522 at a meeting of the Knights of the Round; more have been commissioned since, but the Potter name was one of the original twenty or so. In fact, it is one of the few unbroken lines to stretch so far back."
Harry, if possible, looked even more bewildered. Mum did not look much better. It seemed to be information overload at this point, and something was telling me it would only get worse.
"Knights of the Round?" Harry asked.
"Knights of the Round table, Harry," I supplied. Then I smiled at him. "This means that your ancestor personally knew and fought beside King Arthur Pendragon."
"King Arthur?" Harry wondered. "You mean, sword-in-the-stone King Arthur?"
I nodded. "That's the one."
"I thought he was just a myth."
"To the Muggles, he is," Vinx said. "But our reliable histories and records go back much farther, and they have not been impeded or systematically destroyed by the various world religions in the intervening millennium and a half. Arthur Pendragon lived from 479 through 537, and he is now commonly known as King Arthur. Your ancestor, Marcus Potter, served him as a Knight of the Round from 499 through Arthur's death in 537, when Marcus retired from public life to raise a family. You can, of course, find all of this information in your detailed family histories contained within your main vault."
Harry's eyes literally sparkled at the thought of connecting with his family; I knew he had already basically disregarded the fact that his family was of some importance to world history, and was focused only on the fact that he had a family. Having been bereft of one for his entire life, this conversation with Vinx was redefining his present and his future.
"But now on to business!" Vinx said, reaching for one of the many parchments on his desk. "Here I have your parents' will, which you can unseal by a direct verbal order. The statute of limitations has passed on the original Wizengamot order to suppress this will, so you have complete control over this document."
Vinx mentioning the Wizengamot in conjunction with the will was another nod toward Dumbledore's likely involvement in all of this. Harry and I made eye contact briefly, and I could tell he was thinking along the same lines. Something flashed in eyes; the Headmaster might be enduring another shouting match from a young student in the near future.
"Please unseal the document, Vinx," Harry requested; there was yet another flash of magic, though this time very faint.
"Very well." The goblin account manager slit the wax seal with a claw and laid the parchment on the desk. He started reading:
"Fourteen July 1981. We, Lord James and Lady Lily Potter, being of sound state and mind, do hereby declare this to be our last will and testament. All titles, lands, wealth, and privileges associated with House Potter are to be passed uncontested to our son, Harry James Potter, on his eleventh birthday thirty-one July 1991; until that day, it should be held in trust by Gringotts and the appropriate authorities, so that no undo harm comes to our estate or our son's future.
In the unfortunate event of our deaths, Harry's guardianship passes to the following people, in this order: Sirius Black; Remus Lupin; Albus Dumbledore. Harry is to be raised as the Lord Ascendant of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, but with as much integration as possible between both the wide magical world and also the wide Muggle world. We want our son to be balanced in his upbringing."
Vinx stopped reading and looked at us. Harry had tears at the corner of his eyes, and I had scooted over to him and put my arm around him. Mum looked like she needed a good cry too. The voices of the dead had just come to us out of the very real past, and it was heartbreaking to think that some bureaucratic process had stopped Harry's parents' wishes from being followed. Dumbledore was actually named as a potential guardian, so that might ease some of the man's blame. Though, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that no one could have known, outside of their group of friends. The will had never been read.
"There you have it, Lord Potter. Per your parents' wishes, you are officially Lord Potter and the Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter. All of their monies, properties, vaults, items, and privileges have passed to you."
"But what does any of that matter?" Harry questioned, thickly. "I would much prefer to have them back."
"I'm sure, Harry. And I am truly sorry for your loss. James and Lily were well-liked by the goblin nation, something that cannot be said of too many wizards. However, before you write all of this off, let me give you a brief summary of exactly what you have inherited."
Vinx referred to another parchment on his desk. "Cash or cash equivalents: 775 million galleons. Total value of liquid assets: 1.94 billion galleons. Seven major properties, including: the Potter ancestral Manor in the Scottish Highlands; a hunting lodge in the Canadian Rockies in Northern British Columbia; a beach house on the Pacific in New Zealand; a penthouse suite in Manhattan in New York City; a jungle hideaway on the Amazon river somewhere east of Barcelos, Brazil; a villa on the Mediterranean near Nice, France; and, finally, a sheep ranch on the Ukok plateau in southern Siberia."
My mind boggled at what was being said; the numbers were literally incomprehensibly huge, and the sheer diversity of Potter properties was just as hard to figure. Vinx, oblivious to our shock, kept reading from the parchment:
"The Lord Potter holds a hereditary seat on the British Wizengamot and an honorary seat within the International Confederation of Wizards. Your family has significant investments in both the Wizarding and Muggle spheres of business. Your family owns two vaults at Gringotts: one is your trust vault, which you have already visited, and one is your main vault, which is Vault Number Five. It contains innumerable priceless magical artifacts and family heirlooms, along with a few hundred million galleons. We have an itemized list here, and have tried to appraise most of it, but some items are beyond even our capabilities. They either pre-date known history or are unique enough to be literally, rather than figuratively, priceless."
Vinx finally looked up. He immediately started laughing-or at least I thought it was the goblin version of laughter-and laid the parchment back on his desk.
"I see I have surprised you enough for one day, Lord Potter. Suffice it to say, you are now among the world's richest, especially considering the Pounds-to-Galleons conversion rate."
"And just what is that rate?" mum asked, breathlessly.
"As of this morning at nine, it was eight pounds to one galleon."
"So my family has more than five billion pounds?" Harry asked. I marveled at how calm he was. I think I probably would have fainted by now if this was my family we were talking about.
Vinx nodded. "Yes."
His eyes lit up, and for a moment I thought I was going to be disappointed in him. I thought he would let it all go to his head; he wouldn't need little old me as a friend any more, would he?
"That means I don't have to wear Dudley's old castoffs anymore!" he exclaimed.
Vinx laughed again; he started to organize the papers on his desk. "I enjoy your attitude, Lord Potter. It is quite refreshing to see someone keep a level head when they're informed they're one of the richest people in the world. I had no doubts, really, with your parents being who they were, but it is nice to see it in person.
"The last piece of business today is this," he continued, opening his desk and removing a small plastic rectangle. It looked suspiciously like a bank card. "This debit card is linked to your main vault-in fact, your trust vault has been emptied back into the main vault-and can be used in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. It is keyed to your blood and will only work if you present it to the clerk."
Vinx handed the card to Harry, who reached out to take it. He tilted it toward me so I could see: in gold lettering across the top was Bank of England Preferred. I suddenly realized that Harry's life had changed forever. For some reason, the bank card was the thing that really forced that recognition home.
Vinx also handed Harry a thick roll of parchment. "This details your House's account with Gringotts and should provide much more information than I am able to today. Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask us, either in writing or in person. The Potters have always had a good relationship with the goblin nation, and we hope this can continue, Lord Potter."
Harry nodded, still staring at the bank card. "Thank you so much, Vinx," he said, quietly. His voice sounded somewhat choked up again.
"Harry, you might want to inquire about a solicitor," mum put in, gently. Her former shock had passed-or she had just suppressed it for Harry's sake. Harry glanced at her, nodded, and looked at Vinx.
"Does Gringotts employ solicitors?" he asked. That sadness had left his voice again, to be replaced by something more befitting a Head of a Most Noble and Ancient House.
"Indeed we do."
"I would like to hire one, permanently. Any recommendations?"
"I myself am a solicitor, Lord Potter. It comes with the nature of my job," Vinx replied.
Harry nodded in acceptance. "Very well. My family trusted you with our accounts for the last ten years, so I am sure I can trust you to pay yourself adequately?" I had to hide a smile; Harry was falling into the role quite nicely. There was something else about him in that moment that was hard to pin down, but later I realized that he'd looked and sounded quite sexy.
"Thank you, Lord Potter. If I may make one suggestion as your solicitor?" Vinx asked. Harry nodded again. "Please visit a clothier in Diagon Alley at your earliest convenience and present your Head of House ring. They will fit you with the appropriate Wizarding attire, which as Lord Potter you should wear to any official magical functions."
"Ok…" Harry said, obviously thinking. "Will I be attending these things frequently?"
"Not for several years, I'm sure. However, you should have the Potter crest emblazoned on your Hogwarts robes. Being a Lord, and especially one of such high standing, affords you some privileges-you may be loath to use them, and if you're anything like your mother you probably are-but they lend you a certain credence that will allow you to get the right things done."
When the ensuing silence stretched on for several seconds, it seemed as if the meeting had closed. I had one more question that I would not let go unanswered, however.
"Vinx, sir?" I asked.
"Please, just Vinx. Any friend of the Lord Potter is a friend of the goblins."
I smiled and blushed. "Then just Hermione, please." He nodded. "I was wondering about Harry's living arrangements? You listed several properties under House Potter, and I wonder if any would be amenable alternatives to Harry's current situation?"
"I should think so, Hermione. But, Harry, why do you live your relatives? Is there some special reason?"
Harry just looked at me, and quite darkly. He knew of my conversation with the Headmaster at the end of term, about him staying at the Dursleys for two weeks.
"It would seem as if living with his blood relatives gives him a form or protection that is nearly unmatched…" I started.
"Blood wards?" Vinx wondered. I shrugged. "They can be effective, but only combined with the other usual wards-anti-Apparition, anti-Portkey, Notice-Me-Not, even Fidelius." He paused, shuffled some parchments, and read something.
"Potter Manor in the highlands is probably much safer than your relatives' house, Harry. Not only does it have all of the above, including one of the oldest and most entrenched Fidelius charms in the world, but it is also Unplottable. Unless you already know where it is, or have visited yourself, it is quite impossible to find. And the beauty of it is because it has remained unoccupied for a decade, only you can actually find it, Harry. You don't know where it is, and you have not visited, so you have to activate the Fidelius by using the special Portkey in your vault. Only the Lord Potter can use it, and only if he is not under any sort of compulsion or disguise."
"What about my friends and their families?" Harry asked, looking at me. His emerald eyes were very easy to get lost in.
"You can of course allow them access; after the first time, they should be able to return."
"Alright. Well, thank you for your time today, Vinx. You have given me a lot to think about and read over. If I have any questions, I will owl you directly. At this point, I think I would like to move to the Manor as soon as possible, but that is not something I can decide today. I need the input of all friends," Harry finished, still looking at me. I smiled warmly, finally satisfied that my previous doubts about all this going to Harry's head were for naught. But that didn't change the fact that he was mind-bogglingly rich!
We took our leave of Gringotts soon after; mum placed the thick roll of parchment in her purse for safekeeping while we were shopping, and Harry slipped the debit card into a pocket. We bought our supplies for the next year, with the exception of our Defense textbooks because we did not know who the new teacher would be, and ended up at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
When Harry flashed his Head ring, the proprietor was all in a tizzy; we left the shop with 5 new robes each, even mum, because Harry had explained that he wanted to splurge a little now that he actually had money of his own. Mum and I were teasing him that the "money of his own" was only a few billion pounds, and he took the ribbing good-naturedly. This increased my hope that Harry would come out the other side of all these revelations just as normal, charming, noble, and cute as he had been before. And yes, those were all the adjectives that went through my mind at the time.
We then crossed into Muggle London. Harry asked where he could do some shopping for regular clothes so he did not have to wear his cousin's hand-me-downs anymore. Mum and I looked at each other for all of one second before saying in unison: "Harrods!"
For the next three hours, Harry fully experienced an extensive shopping trip with two excited females. Add in the fact that we were essentially picking out an entirely new wardrobe for him, and that he had absolutely no budget, we were in heaven. We walked out of Harrods around five in the evening with a slightly shell-shocked Harry, but otherwise he was none the worse for the wear. He thanked us profusely for our help throughout the day, saying he felt bad about taking so much time from us. Mum shrugged it off, saying that she had called dad at the office from a payphone earlier in the afternoon to explain where we were.
Conversation remained fairly light on our 30-minute ride back to Surrey; I knew that Harry would need to talk about everything that had been said today at some point, but he seemed content to let it lie for the moment. I didn't want to push him, but I knew that we should talk sooner rather than later.
"Harry…" I said, as we entered Little Whinging. I noticed mum looking at us in the rearview mirror.
He turned to me. "Hermione?" There was a playful smile at the corner of his lips.
"What do you think about all of this?"
"I think the Dursleys are going to be pissed when they find out that Dumbledore has been playing them all these years. You know if they knew even a little bit of what we heard today they would have treated me exceptionally well to try to benefit."
"And?" I asked.
"So, as it stands, they will be disappointed. As soon as I can, I am getting out of there. You heard what Vinx said. Dumbledore's excuse that it is for my protection holds no weight anymore."
"True," I conceded. "Does this mean you'll go to your ancestral Manor?"
He shrugged. "I guess so, but I don't even know what that means. I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment, so I have to take it one day at a time. And I hope you'll help me along the way?" he asked, looking at me with those burning green eyes. There was a vulnerability in them at that moment he rarely showed, and I think I might have loved him then. It was not a solid feeling, nor was it one I would explicitly articulate for quite some time, but it was there and it made me realize how much Harry meant to me.
"Of course I will!" I exclaimed, smiling and leaning over to hug him. He laughed and hugged me back with one arm.
"Thanks, Hermione!"
We pulled onto Privet Drive just then and suddenly the temperature in the car plummeted. I looked around for the source of the sudden change in atmosphere, and I instantly realized that Harry's expression had unequivocally changed. His laughing smile had turned into a hard glare, and he was staring in the direction of his relatives' house. I looked over there, and before I could help myself, a little growl escaped my lungs. Mum pulled into the driveway and placed the thick roll of parchment about Harry's account and family in a shopping bag; we all exited the vehicle, Harry's many packages in our hands.
A staring contest ensued between us and the figure sitting calmly in a lawn chair on the porch of the house. Albus Dumbledore was waiting for us.
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