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Harry walked with Hagrid down Diagon Alley; the young boy craned his neck to take in everything. He was running to keep pace with his new friend, who was ten times his size and didn’t seem to notice that Harry was falling behind. He felt he was missing everything and hoped his friend would slow down.

“Where are we going, Hagrid?” the puffing child asked as he jogged once more to the man’s side.

“We’re goin’ ta Gringotts, to get yer money. Dumbledore gave me yer key,” the giant man explained. He looked down and saw Harry huffing and slowed his pace. “Sorry, ‘bout that. Sometimes I ferget to pace myself,” he said with a grin. “Yer short little legs don’ help.”

“It’s alright,” the tiny boy said back. “I’m not short, just… not big,” he complained as they continued their way to the large marble building. Harry thought it was kinda weird that Dumbledore had his key. If they were in the Muggle world his aunt would have his key. And really, she should have it anyway. She was his guardian. Then again, he didn’t want his aunt to know he had money, so perhaps it was for the best. She and Uncle Vernon would have him cleaned out in seconds. He’d be as poor as a pauper again.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts when they stopped. They had reached a snowy white building. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, were some creatures—

"Yeah, those be goblins," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblins were about a head shorter than Harry. They had swarthy, clever faces, pointed beards and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet.

The two creatures bowed as they walked inside.

Harry bowed back and gave a tiny wave. He was bit leery about the spears, but they seemed nice enough. They opened the doors, after all.

The goblins smiled at him, showing their sharp teeth, which made Harry cringe a bit, but he nodded back. It seemed to be the polite thing to do and wasn’t offensive.

The goblins were correctly thinking he must be a muggle-born, or raised, because pure-bloods didn't show such politeness. The children raised in the wizarding world looked down on anything not human and they hardly ever bowed back. Only those like the Weasleys did any bowing and it was only curtly. Their son, Bill, must have told them the proper way to greet goblins.

Harry and Hagrid went through the first set of doors. The boy looked up and read the poem above the second set. It was short and sweet and stated quite clearly that bad things would happen to those that would attempt to steal from the goblins.

“Wow, that’s harsh,” he said in wonder, silently vowing to never rob the bank. Not that he ever would. He was a good kid and would never break the law.

"Like I said, yer be mad to rob Gringotts," Hagrid said as he clapped Harry on the back, almost making poor the boy fall to the ground. "Well, let's get yer money,” he said, pushing open the doors.

Harry nodded and followed Hagrid inside.

About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, doing their work. Some were weighing gems; others were counting money. Then there were those that were helping customers. They stood in line, while Harry took it all in. He had been in nonmagical banks, but they were nothing like this. They only had lines, not people openly counting jewels and currency. Hagrid must be correct in thinking that the goblins were secure in their thinking that no one would steal from them.

"Mornin’," said Hagrid. "We'd like to make a withdrawal from 'arry's vault."

"Do you have the key?" the goblin said with a frown. He, like Harry, didn’t know why the Grounds Keeper of Hogwarts would have a student’s key. That was not something that should be happening. Either a teacher or the parent should be here.

"Yeah, got it here somewhere," Hagrid said, and started pulling all sorts of things out of his pockets, piling them on the counter. “Dumbledore gave it to me fer safekeeping,” he said proudly, still pulling stuff out of his pocket.

That made the goblin nod; Dumbledore was the boy’s magical guardian, so that made a bit more sense. Still, something was off.

"Good Morning... um Gaukrogers," Harry said politely, reading the nameplate, beaming that he got the name right. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," said Gaukrogers, leaning over the counter to get a better look at who spoke. He noted the boy was sad in the looks department; thin, too big clothes and a mop of hair that looked like it never saw a comb. ‘This was the boy who vanquished the Dark Lord,’ he wondered to himself and then answered the boy’s question. "I am well. Yourself?"

"I've had a brilliant morning, thank you. It's my birthday, you know? And this is the best present I've ever had," Harry said, with a big smile. He looked around and noticed that a lot of wizards in fine robes were looking at him with disdain. He wondered what that was all about; after all, he was only being polite.

"Well, then Happy Birthday, Mr. Potter. I do hope it is a joyous one.” The goblin grinned at the young man, and then turned back to the man making a mess on his counter. He frowned at the half-giant and started making protesting noises.

"Thanks," Harry said happily. He never had anyone, besides Hagrid, wish him a happy birthday and this year that would make two. It was indeed a special day. He just hoped that it went along the same vein from here. Even if it didn’t, this was the best he’d had in his short life. He’d treasure it forever.

Finally, Hagrid finished emptying his pockets. “’ere we are, musta fell to the bottom,” he said, finding the key and giving it to Gaukrogers. There were all sorts of debris on the counter, including things like a dormouse and pocket watches, and strings. There was even a few sticks and a gob of chewing gum.

Gaukrogers took the key and examined it. "Seems to be in order," he said as he held it up to his eye. He looked intently at it, just to make sure.

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid. "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook! Take Mr. Potter and Mr. Hagrid to their vaults," he ordered the small goblin that came their way.

Griphook stopped at the counter and received the key, and, after Hagrid had stuffed all his things back into his pockets, they followed him to the side of the building. To a tunnel-like structure where some carts were lined up. It looked like mining carts that Harry had seen on the telly. They were sitting on tracks that tilted downhill.

Harry thought he was going to enjoy this ride. "Morning, Griphook," he said as they walked towards one of the carts, "How are you today?"

"It has been a profitable day, Mr. Potter. Thank you for asking. How are you this morning?" the goblin said, as he guided them into the vehicle.

"Pretty good so far, thanks." Harry said as he climbed into the back and made room for Hagrid, but not before he noticed more people were looking at him funny. ‘What’s wrong with these people?’ he thought, glancing at them warily. ‘Haven’t they ever seen someone be polite before?’ He couldn’t understand why they were glaring at him so openly for being courteous.

Hagrid seemed to have some difficulty climbing into the small cart. Much like a large dog trying to get comfortable in a cat's bed. However, soon enough he did, and they were off.

Harry let out a yelp when the cart took off. It was great, the fast movement stung his eyes, but still it was exhilarating. He had always wondered what the difference between stalactite and stalagmite was.  Harry was going to ask Hagrid about it, but he noticed that Hagrid didn't seem to be enjoying the cart ride as much as he was, so he held off. The poor man looked green around the gills and Harry really hoped he didn’t barf on him. He could just imagine the amount of vomit the giant man could hold. He might be buried alive.

Griphook looked like he was enjoying the giant man's discomfort —Harry had to wonder why. Had Hagrid offended the goblin in some way? He didn’t think his friend had it in him to do so. Not on purpose anyway.

In a few minutes they arrived at Harry's vault and got out of the cart. Hagrid had to lean against the wall and seem to be trying not to faint. “Alright, Hagrid?” Harry asked, putting his hand on the beefy arm.

“Alright, jest need to catch me breath,” the giant man wheezed, taking long and slow breaths.

Griphook opened the door with the key and green smoke billowed out. Inside there were mounds of gold, silver and bronze coins piled high as the ceiling. It was more money than Harry had ever seen in his life, not even on the telly.

Hagrid, who seemed to have finally gotten his breath back, said, "This is all yers. The gold are galleons, the silver are sickles, and the bronze are knuts. There’re seventeen silver sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. Should be easy enough to remember. ‘ere, we'll just get a bag full—should last you a couple of terms."

They took a bag off the hook by the door and started filling it. When they figured they had enough Harry took the bag and turned to the goblin. "Griphook, how many galleons to a pound?" he asked, wondering if he should get some converted, so he could do some shopping in Surrey.

"The current rate is five pounds to a galleon." Griphook said, turning back to the cart as if the question were a common one that he was tired of answering.

"Thanks," Harry said in awe. "Can you tell me how much is in this vault?" He asked as they climbed back into the cart.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, I am only a cart runner. You can ask one of the counter clerks. They should be able to tell you," Griphook said as they waited for Hagrid to clamber in.

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please... and can we go more slowly?" Hagrid all but pleaded.

"One speed only," said Griphook with a wicked grin.

They went further into the depths of Gringotts. Harry was pretty sure he saw a dragon, but they were going too fast for him to be sure. "Hey, Hagrid, do think they have dragons here?" Harry asked, trying to spin around in the speeding cart, to see if that’s what he saw. He sat back in his seat and then noticed that Hagrid still wasn't looking good.

"Maybe so. I've always wanted a dragon. Now, shush, got to concentrate on me breathin'" the big man mumbled.

When they arrived at the vault Harry noticed that unlike his, this one didn't have a keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. "Don’t ever try this, Mr. Potter. If anyone but a goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there.” He grinned wickedly, hoping to enforce the fact that Gringotts should not be robbed.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook, smirking evilly.

"Oh, why do you wait so long?" Harry asked, bending his head toward the open doorway. He was trying to see what was so important that it needed such a high security. He glanced into the vault, expecting to see great treasures, but there was only a grubby looking package that was wrapped in plain brown paper.

Hagrid picked it up and put it in his pocket then returned reluctantly to the cart. He looked like he’d rather walk the entire way back. But he’d get lost and never find his way out.

"We don't like thieves and have no sympathy towards them," Griphook said, answering Harry's question. “So, if some fool dies, we could care less. They shouldn’t have tried to rob us in the first place.” There was a sadistic gleam in his eyes and his face was twisted in an evil visage.

“Oh,” was all Harry could say to that, reinforcing his vow to himself.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Potter. We are not an evil people, but we don’t cotton to fools or thieves,” Griphook stated, looking like the kindly cart driver again.

“I understand,” Harry said, nodding his head, yet still wary of the warrior race.

Hagrid finally settled into his seat, and they were off again. After a long-twisted ride that made the gentle giant greener, they returned to the surface. They climbed out of the cart and Harry turned to Griphook, smiling.

"That was wicked! Better than any ride I've ever seen! Thanks for taking us." He held out his hand. He’d done a bit of thinking on the ride up and decided that he liked the goblins and their philosophy. He didn’t like bad people either.  

"It was not a problem, Mr. Potter. It is my job." Griphook took his hand and they shook. He loved waiting on muggle-born/raised children —they were almost always polite. Too bad most of them started feeling the same as the purebloods after a few years of listening to the History Professor at Hogwarts. But, still, it was a pleasure serving them when they were young.

"Good-bye, Griphook, have a good day!" Harry called as they went to the main part of the bank. "Hagrid, why don't you sit on one of those benches? I'm gonna see how much is in my vault," he said, pointing to one of the benches that were lining the side walls of the bank. They were empty as most people seemed to have a purpose in the bank at the moment.

Hagrid, who looked like he was going to lose his breakfast, decided it was probably a good idea and ambled over to the one near the doors. The poor wooden bench creaked with his vast weight.

Harry went to the counter again and read the name tag. "Good morning, Underhill. I was wondering if you could tell me how much is in my vault," Harry requested politely. He was most anxious to find out. He had never had money and now he felt on top of the world for having some.

"Do you have your key?" Underhill asked as a small toothless smile graced his lips. He pulled a piece of parchment from a compartment in his cubby. He placed it on the counter in front of him and waited.

"Oh, yeah, Griphook gave it to me when I left the vault," the boy replied, patting his pockets and then handing over the key. "I was wondering why you don't have checks and credit cards. Surely you could profit from those," he inquired. He’d asked Griphook about them on the ride up and was told that they were not a thing here.

"It's not the first time someone has asked that question," Underhill said as he placed the key on a square atop the charmed parchment and tapped it with his finger. "Many muggle-born or raised ask it. We tried to get the Ministry to approve it, but they won’t budge. They call it 'silly muggle stuff'. Since we only control what goes on in the bank and not what goes on in the business world, we can't seem to get it off the ground. We do have people trying though." It had been an ongoing thing since the invent of the checks in the muggle world. A losing battle, but the goblins were a stubborn people, and they were tenaciously hanging on. With more and more muggleborn coming into the wizarding world, they were slowly making progress.

“Oh well, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it works out for you,” Harry said, and he really hoped it did. It would make things loads easier than lugging gold around. He did wonder if there was a magical solution.

Underhill returned his focus to the parchment and read, "Your current balance is 800,789 galleons and some change. If you ever want to know how much is in your vault, then you may purchase one of these charmed parchments and it will tell you. They are six sickles a piece and it doesn't register as underage magic use, because the charm is on the parchment." He was more than willing to make a sale. He did work on commission as well as pay. Paltry though it was.

Harry's eyes were wide. That was a lot of money. He did the math in his head and it came to £4,003,945. He hoped the Dursleys never found out. But with that much money he could get clothes that fit. Even if he only got them second-hand, they would still fit. He didn't want to go out and buy all new clothes because the Dursleys would ask where he'd gotten the money. Then, like he thought before, they’d rob him blind, and he’d be poor again. That was the last thing he wanted.

"If you would like to purchase that parchment now, Mr. Potter I would be more than happy to sell you one," Underhill said, catching Harry's attention away from his thoughts.

"That would be great," Harry said and paid for the enchanted parchment, he then put it in his too big pants. “Oh, I need to exchange some galleons for pounds. Do I do that with you, or somewhere else?” he asked, lifting up his bag of gold.

“You have to go to the exchange counter,” the goblin said, pointing to said place.

Harry felt that would be all he needed so he could get some shoes that fit, as well as clothes. “Thanks for all your help. I hope you have a good day, Underhill," he said as he walked away from the counter. He quickly exchanged his money and went to join Hagrid, who was looking much better.

The two left the bank and started down the cobblestone lane.

"Hagrid, why was everyone looking at me funny while I was in the bank?" Harry said as they headed to the Alley.

"Well 'arry, it's sorta 'ard ter explain. Ya see not many wizards treat goblins so politely. They think o' goblins as second-class citizens, some even go as far as to call them animals,” the big man growled, and then scratched his beard thinking on how to best put it.

“That’s horrible,” stated Harry, his green eyes wide with horror.

“There's been lots of wars with the goblins, so they really don't like us, an' most wizards don't like them. Yeh'll learn about that at Hogwarts," Hagrid explained, patting the child on the back, once more making him stumble. "Codswallop, I say, everyone should be treated with respect if they earned it," he added.

"Oh, yeah, that’s kinda dumb,” Harry agreed as he once more jogged to keep up.  “You'd think that if they are going to be trusted with your money, you'd treat them with more respect. If there is one thing Uncle Vernon taught me it was to respect anyone who has control over your money. It’s really only common sense." He never really paid much attention to Uncle Vernon, but he’d been talking to Dudley at that time and so Harry decided to listen. It did make sense and only a fool would mess with someone in control of their finances.

"Don't yer worry none, Harry, you just keep bein' polite and they'll be polite right back atcha'," Hagrid said, clapping him on his back, almost making him fall, again. "Let's get yer things."

Harry felt he would heed this advice and possibly create a business relationship with the goblins when he was older. For the first time in a long time he found hope. Now, though, there was shopping to be done.

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I enjoy reading Harry Potter fanfics as much as the next guy, but when Harry nods to the goblin at the bank and they widen their eyes in awe, it makes me giggle. According to Harry Potter Wiki, Gringotts has been around since 1474, so I find it hard to believe that no muggle-born/raised didn't show politeness to them. Harry couldn't have been the first. And since that makes up half the wizard population that wasn't taught to fear or look down on goblins, then I am sure that at least a third, or perhaps less, of the first years either wave, nod, or stare at them in fascinated horror. I get that prejudice is wild in the muggle world, but tv and books would have desensitized most to fascinated horror.

One reviewer did make a point, that most professors would have hurried them along, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t smile and wave, or stare in awe. Plus, at that age, who listens to adults.

Rewrite 9/26/24: Added a bit and corrected a few mistakes. It’s surprising what you find when the story is read to you.

Chapter Text

A quick little one that I got in my head when a one-word review was posted. It simply said “granger”, and my muse went wild.

This is unbetaed and what turned this from a one-shot to a multi-chaptered story.

Hermione is a bit OOC, but I think she would have tried to find out as much as she could about herself, like she told Harry when they first met.

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Professor Minerva McGonagall was having a frustrating day. She had only been in the young girl’s company a half an hour and she was already sporting a headache. She had taken many muggleborns their letter in the past, but this girl was the most inquisitive, and still somewhat disbelieving. Even after all she’d done to prove there was magic in the world, her and her parents were unconvinced. She’d even turned into a cat, and they were convinced she had tricked them somehow. That had never failed in the past, and she couldn’t fathom as to why it had now.

Right now, they were standing outside the Leaky Caldron. It was an old building and looked like it was about to fall in disrepair. The wood that made the front of the building was cracked and pitted. The paint was peeling and the sign that hung over the door was on its last leg. A good wind might make it fall, as it creaked on rusted chains. It looked like something out of a horror movie, like a zombie apocalypse.

“Professor,” the bushy-haired girl said in an inquiring tone, “why are we standing outside a dirty pub? I mean, I know you said it was the entrance to Diagon Alley but is this really the first thing you want people new to your world to see? It doesn’t make a good impression,” she finished with a wrinkle of her nose. She was scared to touch anything near it, let alone go in.  

Minerva started, that was the first time someone had said that to her. They had commented on the state of the Leaky Cauldron, but never bluntly stated that it was a bad impression. Now that she thought about it, most of her new charges did seem to be let down at the sight of the dingy building. Like magic wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

“It is that way to keep…” she started, then changed her mind. “I will be sure to mention it to the owner, perhaps he can clean it up a bit. Still, it has been the entrance for many years, so I doubt anything will come to it. Hurry along,” she added, moving forward towards the door. Sometimes, she hated her job. Oh, not often, but times like this…. It was just too stressful.

“Yes, Professor,” the girl sighed. It had been this way since she met the professor. All her questions were diverted, or she was told half answers. Then there was the ever present, ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’ Hermione hated that answer.

They went into the pub; it too was dark and dingy. It was only lit by candlelight and gas torches. The windows were covered with heavy curtains. The tables were scuffed and pitted, with worn strips of what once must have been gold-colored tablecloths across the middle. There were many strange, to Hermione, people sitting about. Eating, drinking, reading, or quietly talking.

Now that Hermione’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she looked around, and she could see the clientele matched the outside of the pub. Most of the patrons were dressed shabbily, in worn or well used robes and hats. There were even a few very scary looking people in the dark corners. She couldn’t see them well, but they looked like crones from fairytales. There was even a man in a dark robe, with his hood pulled over his face, which reminded her of a picture of Death. She shuddered and moved closer to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor McGonagall,” the wrinkled old man behind the bar called out, “another newbie?” he asked, swishing his wand to clean the glasses in front of him.

“Yes, Tom,” she answered briskly, with a small nod of her head.  “We’re in a bit of a hurry.” She walked towards the back of the pub, taking no notice to the patrons.

“Well then, don’t let me keep you,” he said, winking at Hermione, who was unsure as to how to take that. She simply smiled and nodded her head a bit and hurried after the older woman.

The small square alley that she was led into was worse than the pub behind it. Wind blew bits of trash around in a tight circle and there were smelly rubbish bins along the back wall.

“Right this way, Miss Granger,” Minerva stated, tapping her wand in a pattern on the bricks on the back wall. “Welcome to Diagon Alley,” she said, waving her hand through the opening that had just appeared.

Hermione quickly darted through. She was so anxious to see what the magic world held, that she didn’t even wait for the professor. Her head whipped around, taking in everything. Now this, was what she had been hoping for. There was magic everywhere. She could feel it in the air and practically see the waves of it floating around.

People had bags floating behind them like ducklings in the water. Store clerks were calling merchandise to them from the back with just a flick of their wands. Things were shrinking and expanding everywhere. Owls hooted from one shop. Cauldrons were bubbling at a stand that was selling remedies. There were even people appearing out of nowhere at a spot near the middle of the street. No one even startled at them. They just moved out of the way and went about their business.

“Come along, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, walking past her. “We need to go to Gringotts and get your money exchanged.”

She didn’t even let the girl take in everything. It wasn’t very polite of her, in Hermione’s opinion. The girl wanted a moment to absorb it all. How else was she going to learn anything if she didn’t have time to look?

“Professor, tell me again why my parents couldn’t come,” she all but pleaded. She really wanted her mum and dad to see the wonders she was seeing. They would have been tickled pink and might have better understood what she was about. This was just something they had to see to believe. Now that she was here, she was more of a believer.

“It is tradition for muggleborns to be introduced to your new world by a professor,” came another half answer.

Hermione huffed. “I’ll just bring them by later,” she mumbled as she followed the older woman.

Up ahead was the most beautiful building she had ever seen. It was huge and made of white marble that seemed to glisten in the sunlight. At the large golden doors of the building were small creatures standing guard on either side. If she remembered her Tolkien right, these could be goblins. She surely hoped they were better tempered than those of Tolkien’s world. They seemed to be calmer, so she would wait to see if they were nicer. She doubted that manhaters would be in charge of a bank, but who knew in a magical place.

McGonagall noticed where her charge’s attention was. She stopped for a moment to explain to the girl. “Those are goblins,” she said, with a curt nod of her head in their direction. “They oversee all the money in the wizarding world. You would do best not to anger them,” she added, then started to move forward again.

Hermione frowned, ‘In charge of all the money?’ she questioned in her head. ‘Does that mean they have a monopoly? I thought that was against the law,’ she wondered as she followed the professor. ‘Perhaps they have different laws here,’ she mused, thinking of all the reading she would have to do to get a grip on what she was seeing and hearing. She would have to suspend many of her misconceptions on the fantasy worlds that she had read. Tolkien’s Middle Earth was one such world.

The goblin at the right of the doors, nodded his head at the two. McGonagall gave a curt nod back, while Hermione gave a small curtsy. The goblin grinned and winked.

“You do not have to curtsy,” McGonagall stated as she hustled the girl past the second set of doors. “They are only goblins. So, there is no need to put on airs.”

Hermione frowned again and wrinkled her nose. She would have to do some research, though she wasn’t sure how bias it would be. Looking at the disdainful and distasteful looks of the patrons of the bank, she was very worried about that. Maybe, she could ask the goblins to recommend some reading material. With that thought she nodded her head in determination, that’s just what she’d do.

They stood in line at the exchange counter and waited their turn. When they got to the front of the line, the goblin the tiredly waved them forward.

“We need to exchange some muggle money,” McGonagall stated as if that wasn’t the line they were standing in.

Hermione bustled forward and butted in, getting her questions in as fast as possible, “Hello, Mr. Goblin, can you tell me the current exchange rate? Do you go by the weight of gold or is there some limit to what you can charge? Is there a fee for the exchange, or is it part of the transaction? Do you have a credit card, or debit card? Can I open a vault? Do I need my parents for that? Is there any way to see if I am related to a wizarding family? I mean, I must get my magic from somewhere. I don’t think it just pops up out of nowhere.  Can we check that, please?” she rambled on, speaking the whole thing in one breath.

The goblin smiled. His tiredness vanished. It was quite refreshing to get the inquisitive ones. They rarely converted to being bigoted later.

“My name is Swifttooth, not Mr. Goblin,” he said gently, pointing to his nameplate. “There is no fee for the exchange, it is paid for by the Ministry. We have a limit to what we can exchange, which is set by the Ministry. It is one galleon to five pounds. Don’t fret,” he said quickly seeing her frown, “prices are much lower here than in the muggle world. We don’t have a credit or debit card, the Ministry won’t let us start them, but we are working on it. You can open a vault, but you must have the starting fee of one hundred galleons. You do not need your parents’ permission if they’re muggles.”

That caused Hermione to frown again. She opened her mouth to ask, but he just put up his hand and continued.

“However, we will give you some paperwork to take to them, and you can bring them to validate it. We can do an inheritance test, free of charge. It is not a complete family tree, but it will tell you who you are most closely related to… if they are magical,” he answered smugly.

He was a bit relieved she asked because they can’t do the test without being asked first. If vaults go dormant too long, the Ministry will confiscate them. So, it was much better for them to be claimed by family. And most of the time that family was from muggleborn. If this girl was smart, she would tell others and more vaults would open. It would work for a few years, then peter out again.

“Oh,” came the slightly startled reply. Hermione wasn’t used to anyone answering her as fast as she asked questions. She smiled brilliantly, lighting up her whole face. “Then let’s get started,” she said, reaching into her inner pocket on her coat, and pulling out the huge wad of money she had gotten from her dad. “There’s six hundred pounds here, that’s enough to start a vault, correct?” She handed the money to the teller, and he counted it out.

“Perfect,” he said, putting it aside, and pulling out a pile of parchment and a few sheets of paper. “Read these and sign where needed, they will create a temporary vault to hold one hundred galleons. Then you can take the copies to your parents for them to sign to make it permanent. Since you have six hundred pounds, and I only need five, I will exchange the rest to galleons for you here and that should cover the cost for most of you school things. When you come back, with your parents and the filled-out papers, I will give you a key to your vault and you can retrieve more.” He went about doing just that, while the girl read the papers.

“Miss Granger, we are pressed for time,” McGonagall said sharply, tapping her foot impatiently. The headache she had earlier, just returned tenfold and was growing. She knew this girl was going to be trouble. She was just too inquisitive. They tried to keep the muggleborn from finding out about the blood test, it was too much of a hassle with the Ministry.

“Professor, I am sure you understand that my parents don’t want me to carry around a large amount of money. Especially if it is gold. They asked me to inquire about this and were extremely nervous at giving me that much to begin with. The only reason they did, was because I have a hidden pocket. So, forgive me, but I am only doing what my parents want. I am sure you understand,” she said with a tight grin. Then she turned back to the paperwork and quickly read it. She comprehended most of it and signed where there were little arrows. She then handed them back to Swifttooth.

He looked them over and waved his hand over them. They doubled, and the new copies were rolled up and put in a mustard yellow cloth bag, that appeared to hold more than it should. He handed that to Hermione. He then handed her the exchanged money in a different bag. This one was black with a Gringotts emblem on the front.

“Now, we will see if you are indeed related to a magical person,” he said, pulling out a very thick piece of parchment and laying it on the counter in front of him. He then reached for something else under the counter.  

“Shouldn’t we have done that before I opened a vault?” the bushy-haired girl asked, a bit confused. If she already had a vault, then she would have just added to it. That made more sense. This was a more confusing way of doing things.

“Since it is only a temporary vault, it can be combined with an older one without a fee. If you have one,” the goblin explained, not going into the complicated explanations of Ministry rules and regulations on muggleborn consensus.  

“Oh, okay, I guess that makes sense,” she said, still frowning a bit.

“Miss Granger, we do not have the time for you to be lollygagging,” the professor once more tried to get the girl to move along. It wasn’t that she didn’t want the girl to see if she was related to anyone, but she could have come back and done this on her own time. As it was, they were going to have to rush through the Alley, and she hated doing that. There was so much that could be missed if one didn’t take the proper time. That and well, there was the Ministry to think about.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Hermione said, a bit bashfully, “I’m sure Swifttooth will do this concisely.” She was getting miffed at the pushy woman. It wasn’t like this was taking that long.

“It will only take a moment,” the teller assured the impatient woman. He disliked McGonagall on principle. She was one of those professors that didn’t want the muggleborn to know where they came from.

“Very well,” McGonagall sighed, knowing she was outvoted.

“Take this pin and prick your finger,” Swifttooth said, handing a hat pin to the girl. “Smear the blood on the line at the top.” He pointed to the area where she was do put her bloody finger.

Hermione all but grabbed the pin and quickly pricked her finger, flinching at the slight pain, and did as the goblin said. The blood seemed to glow, and it was soon replaced with words Dagworth-Granger.

“Well, it looks like there is a relative,” the teller stated, triumphantly.  

Hermione basked in the knowledge that she was right.

“Well done, Miss Granger,” McGonagall stated, looking at the name. “Dagworth-Granger was the founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. You will do well to look that up. That line has been dormant for many years.” She was happy that this was not the waste of time she thought it would be. If the girl was going to find out, at least it was a worthwhile name.

“I will request the ledger for this vault be sent to you. It will arrive at your home, via owl. Please take the time to look it over and come back to us, with your parents, to let us know what you want done with it. Now, was there anything else I can do for you today?” the excited goblin asked. The bank loved it when money was yanked away from the greedy Ministry. Nothing pleased them more when it went to the hands of the muggleborn.

Hermione was ecstatic. She was as happy as she had ever been. She turned to the professor and smiled a million-watt smile. “Can you take me to the bookstore, and then home, please?”

“I’m not sure that is a good idea, Miss Granger. There is much I have to go over with you,” McGonagall stated, wrinkling her forehead in thought.

“You can give me a list of books to read, while I wait for the post from there. Then I can come back with my parents and do my shopping. Now that I know I have roots here; I think they will be as excited as I am and would want to participate in my exploration of this new world. We can see if we can find out how I’m related to Dagworth-Granger. Oh, this will be so exciting. I wonder if my parents know our family tree.” She turned back around and pointed to the parchment that had her heritage on it. “Can I have a copy of that?” she asked.

A quick wave of the goblin’s hand and there was a copy for her. She smiled and shoved it in the yellow bag he had given her earlier.

“Anything else?” Swifttooth asked again.

“Yes, can you give me a list of books that you recommend for muggleborns, to learn about your culture? I want to make sure I am reading the correct ones,” she inquired, with a slight wink.

He grinned at her and took out a prepared list for those that asked just that and handed it to her. She was not the first to ask.  Only the smart ones did, but they did have this list just for them.

“Thank you ever so much for taking the time to answer my questions, and helping me,” she said with a small curtsy. “I will be back as soon as I can, with my parents.”

Then she turned quickly, bushy hair flying everywhere. She waited for the professor to move towards the entrance and waved and smiled at everyone they passed. There were many that looked down their noses at her, but she didn’t care. Her head was held high and there was a new determination in her steps. She was going to learn everything as quickly as she could. She’d show them that they couldn’t break her.

“Miss Granger, I would prefer if you let me help you do your shopping. Muggles tend to get lost and confused when they first come to the Alley,” McGonagall said, trying one last time to change the girl’s mind.

“Thank you for helping me discover where my family comes from, Professor, but I really want my parents to be by my side,” Hermione said firmly. “First, I need some books. Then, I would like to go home. Please,” she reiterated. There would be no changing her mind. She was determined to get this done her way. The professor seemed just as determined to put her in a box that she wasn’t going to fit in. She wasn’t going to let her slot her into some preconfigured square that all muggleborn were supposed to conform to.

McGonagall sighed and led the way to Flourish & Blotts. She would let the inquisitive girl buy the books she asked about and then take her home. She would just have to hope that Miss Granger would read them well. Perhaps, she could tell the child to owl her with questions. She would point out the Owl Post Office. She only hoped that the girl didn’t get into too much trouble with her inquiring mind.

They passed a giant man and a small boy who were talking about how goblins should be treated, to which Hermione completely agreed with. And if she wasn’t so determined to get her research and go home, she would have stopped and discussed it with them. However, she felt an overwhelming need to see her mum and dad.

This was the start of a whole new adventure and she’d be damned if she was going to leave her loved ones behind.

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Rewrite 9/26/24: Added a bit and corrected some mistakes. I had to make it mesh up with the rest of the story.

Chapter Text

A very short one. I’m trying not to repeat things, and I hope I accomplished that.

Thanks for all the reviews.

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Professor Flitwick was having a good day. He was escorting a muggleborn student to Diagon Alley. While he didn’t think the student would be in his House, the lad was entertaining. The boy was dark skinned and haired, and had a sunny disposition, if a bit of a foul mouth. He was tall and lanky, for an eleven-year-old. He stood half a head taller than the diminutive professor. Who stood four foot three.

At the moment, they were coming upon the Leaky Cauldron. “Bloody Hell, this place is wicked. Do you think there are any vampires here? It looks seedy enough,” the young boy chirped, his eye alit with fascination.

“Please curb your language, Mr. Thomas. Such foulness will not be tolerated at Hogwarts,” Flitwick squeaked, though not too harshly. “As for vampires, they only come out during the night. So, it is improbable that one would be here now.” He was lecturing, he knew that. However, he was a professor, and it was ingrained into him.

“Sorry, Professor,” Dean said, then added, “It’s a shame about the vampires though. I would’ve like to have seen one.” He followed the professor into the dark pub. He looked around and saw many fascinating characters. Ones his mum would pull him away from in an instant. If she didn’t outright scream at the sight of a few. There were some even he wouldn’t approach. Still, it was all remarkably interesting.

Filius calmly nodded to Tom the bartender and led the boy to the courtyard in the back. Just when he was about to open it, a bushy-haired girl came barreling through, followed by a miffed McGonagall.

“Filius, I am sorry,” Minerva said as she picked the poor man off the ground. “Miss Granger is in a hurry to get home. Miss Granger, apologize this instant,” she demanded, whirling on the girl, whose face was in shock at what she had just done.

“Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry,” she quickly said, hurrying over to the tiny man and started to wipe his coat of dust. “I’m just ever so excited,” she claimed, her eyes bright with someone who had new knowledge and was itching to share.  

Flitwick pegged her for his House. She would do well in Ravenclaw, if her excited, inquisitive face said anything. He had seen that look many times, and he was dying to ask what she had learned; however, this was neither the time nor the place. He tittered.

“No harm done,” he said, brushing her hands away. “I can see you are just excited.” He finished patting the dirt off his coat. He took out his wand, making sure the kids were watching closely, swishing it, he made all the dirt float away, making it form a small tornado, and then settling it in the corner of the courtyard.

Both children smiled, at the display. Hermione even clapped a bit, like he was as street performer.

“Oh, thank you ever so much for understanding my excitement,” Hermione said, standing back away from him to give him room and looking like she was about to dash away. “I am in a bit of a hurry, but I do apologize again. And thanks for showing me some magic. I can’t wait to get to Hogwarts, so that I can learn to do that. It seems ever so useful.” Her hair seemed to grow frizzier with each word and she was all but bouncing in place.

“It is quite alright, young lady, but perhaps you can pay a bit more attention to your surroundings. Not all of us are overly noticeable,” the small professor said with another small chuckle. He shook his head at the short joke and continued addressing her in a jovial manner. “I see that you are an inquisitive one, just make sure you don’t offend,” he said, smiling at the girl.

“I will, I promise,” she agreed, then looked at Dean. “Are you new too?” she asked, jumping in place a bit. “I just found out I was magical, and it explains so much. How are you liking it so far? Oh bother, you haven’t even gone to the Alley yet. I’m sorry, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. I just found out that I have a magical ancestor. It’s been ever so exciting. Oh my, I must get home. Nice to meet you,” she said, looking at her watch, and hurrying away.

McGonagall sighed and followed the girl with a quick pace.

The two left in the square watched them go and chuckled.

“Well, she’s excited,” Dean said with laughter in his eyes. He had never met a girl who was that… frazzled before. She was a burst of energy, that was for sure.

“She would do well in my House,” the professor stated. His eyes held the same laughter. “The House of those that seek knowledge,” he added, reminding the boy of what he told him about the Houses of Hogwarts.

“That was great, that bit of magic you did,” Dean said, changing the subject. Sure, the man had made the coffee table float, but what he just did with the dirt was brilliant. “Will I learn that?” he asked, waving his hand to indicate what he meant.

“Oh, indubitably,” Flitwick said with a nod. “Not until your second year, I’m afraid, but you will learn many useful bits of magic during your time at school.”

“Great, I can’t wait.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. “It’s a shame I can’t do any at home yet. My mum would love help around the house.” He was vastly disappointed in that. He thought that magic would be beneficial, but it was not so. It had to be kept a secret, and in order to do that, he couldn’t do any outside of school.

“In due time, Mr. Thomas. Now then, let us get your money changed over,” Flitwick said, smiling at the boy and waving him into Diagon Alley.

“Cor,” the young man said, looking at everything. His eyes widened as he took in a man that was ten feet tall, if he was in inch. The tallness of the man, only overshadowed a bit by the wild hair and beard, made the kid he was with look like a toddler.

After a moment of staring, he noticed a group of boys around a window and moved towards them. “This is wicked,” he stated, peering at the brooms the boys were admiring.  “Can they really fly?” That was something most muggles thought of when they thought of magic. The ability to fly. Something about soaring with the birds was just so appealing.

“Yes, it is indeed, and they certainly can,” Filius agreed, tugging at the young man’s sleeve, and drawing him away from the display. “However, first year students are not allowed brooms. We are very firm on that rule,” he stated, still tugging the young man away.

“Damn,” was the upset rejoinder.

“No worries, young man, you can bring one next year. I do have to say, though, they are quite expensive.” He wanted to make sure the boy understood that getting one would not be easy. That is why most just used the old school brooms.

“I’ll have to save my allowance then. Maybe in a few years,” the boy mumbled, walking to the large white building. He was so distracted with his calculations that he didn’t notice the goblins in front of the doors. He looked at the large doors then something shiny to the right of him, caught his eye. He looked and then jumped back in complete shock as he finally noticed the guard.

“Holy shite,” he said, then slowly stepped forward with curious eyes. “What are you?” he asked in horrid fascination. He’d seen beings like this on the telly and depicted in fantasy novels, but to see one in real life. Blimey.

The little being looked a bit like the professor, but much, much scarier. He had wondered if Flitwick was entirely human. However, he thought it impolite to ask. Now, he had his answer. He’d bet a year’s worth of allowance the man had some of what ever this being was in his bloodline.

“Mr. Thomas!” Flitwick snapped, tugging the boy away from the guard. “That is no way to talk to anyone. You will find there are many different species of beings here in the wizarding world. Most of which are intelligent. You would do well not to insult them,” he chastised. He really hoped the guards didn’t take offense. They probably didn’t, given how many other muggleborn did this to them, but he related to them, and he was slightly offended.

“Oh, bugger, I’m sorry,” Dean immediately said, bowing a bit. “You caught me by surprise is all. This is all new to me. Let me start again. Hi, my name is Dean Thomas. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, grinning and holding out his hand to the guard on the right. It shook a bit, like he wasn’t quite as brave as he was pretending to be. But his mum would have his guts for garters if he didn’t apologize.

“Digger is the name. To answer your question, I’m a goblin. Don’t worry about shouting, it’s fine,” the goblin gruffly stated, taking the child’s hand and giving it a quick shake. “We’re used to it. No harm done.” He made sure to wink at the tiny professor to show they weren’t upset.

“Whew,” the boy said, putting his hand back down. “I’ll try to not do that again,” he mumbled to himself, as he nodded to the other guard, and went into the other set of doors, not noticing the poem on top.

They made their way to the line in front of the exchange desk, while many people were calling helloes to Flitwick, which he returned cheerfully, Dean was still in deep thought. The professor didn’t mind, he loved seeing all his current and ex-students while in the Alley. They all called to him, without prejudice. After all, he was one of the most well-liked teachers at Hogwarts. He was fun, cheerful and most of all unbiased.

They stood in line and Dean started gazing around him, still completely fascinated with everything. He really studied the jewels and gems that other goblins were weighing and logging. He had never seen so much wealth in one place. He wondered if anyone ever stole from here.

“Professor,” Dean said, turning to look down on the tiny man, “has this place ever been robbed?”

Flitwick chuckled. “No, no,” he squeaked, “Gringotts is one of the safest places in Great Britain. Hogwarts is also just as safe. They both have formidable wards, and Gringotts has an army of thousands of bloodthirsty warriors. While Hogwarts has Albus Dumbledore. No one wants to tangle with either,” he explained, waving his arms excitedly.

“Oh, well that’s good to know. I might have to keep money here one day. By the way, why are most of these people sneering at the tellers? I mean, is there a history?” Dean asked, looking at the disdain on most of the faces.

“There have been many wars between the two races,” Filius stated, his face going somber. “Though it has been many, many years since the last. Wizards do tend to hold grudges though. Then again, so do goblins. It was in one war a few hundred years ago, that the goblins demanded the right to open the bank. They felt that if they controlled the money, the wizards would be less likely to turn on them. The wizards, on the other hand, feel that the goblins are trying to control them by keeping the wealth hostage. It is an ongoing debate, where both parties feel they are in the right. There have been a few wars since, over said debate, but as you can see, the goblins are still here,” he lectured a bit. He tried to keep his voice level, but he really got into his narration, and it went up as he spoke.

“Oh, sounds complicated,” the poor confused boy said, rubbing his chin in thought. Why would they give their money to those they didn’t trust? Were they losing? That must be it.

“It is, but you will learn more in your history class, then you can decide for yourself on which view you feel is correct. Though, that may take extra reading. After all, history is written by the victors. It would be better if you heard from both sides,” Flitwick stated, a slight depression came over him.

Being a halfling was hard; he had to bear the burden of both sides. Constantly being pulled by both of his families. It was hard to not see each side of the debate. Still, taking muggleborns around and explaining things to them, did help.

“I’ll do that,” Dean said, peering at Flitwick to see which side the man took, but seeing only resignation.

“Good, good. In the meantime, I would take each individual person and weigh them by their merits. How someone treats someone else, is a good way to judge character. Try not to let the past cloud your judgement, but make sure you learn from it nevertheless.” He smiled at the boy. He had only spent a day with him but knew him to be a good lad.  He’d heed his words; Flitwick just knew it.

“Sounds good,” Dean said, looking up and seeing it was their turn, and then stepping towards the counter where the only happy goblin was. “Hello,” he said, looking at the nameplate, “Swifttooth. I need to exchange money today. Can you tell me how much I can get with two hundred pounds?” he asked, holding his hand to the professor, who was keeping his money safe. His mum didn’t trust him to hold it, and made the professor promise to keep it until they got to the bank, and not to let the boy spend it frivolously.

Sure, he could see the reasoning behind it. He was just a kid, and those brooms looked wicked. So, she might have a point.

“Forty galleons,” the teller said, counting out the money Filius handed him. “Filius, another muggleborn I see.” He then placed the galleons in a bag and handed it to the child. He was still in a good mood from the young girl who found out she was not a muggleborn. More money in the market, so to speak. That made any goblin smile as they were all about the money and profit.

“Well…” started Dean, he didn’t want to interrupt, but it might be important, “we’re not exactly sure. See my dad disappeared before I was born. My mum now thinks he might have been a wizard.” And hadn’t that been a kick in the teeth. First, he found out he had magic. Then, his mum confessed that it might be from his dad. It had been a morning of revelations.

“Really?” Swifttooth said, pulling out an inheritance parchment. “Prick your finger and smear the blood here, at the top line, and we’ll see who your father was. If he was a wizard.” He held out a clean hatpin. Since the child wasn’t muggleborn, per se, they didn’t have to wait for him to ask. He was a half-blood, looking to reclaim his father’s vault.

“Sure,” the excited boy said, grabbing the pin and doing as instructed. The blood glowed then formed the name Leslie.

“Well now, this is marvelous,” Swifttooth stated, taking the parchment back. Two vaults in one day and within an hour of each other. That was interesting and would set the kneazles among the nifflers.

“Why?” Dean asked, his eyes glued to the parchment. He had never known his father’s name. He went by his stepfather’s name. Now, he knew his birthname. This was a wonderous day.

“I knew your father, Loaghaire was his name. He had come in just like you, thinking himself to be muggleborn, and like you, he was wrong. The Leslie name was long thought dead, and your father claimed the vault. He made quite a killing in his investments. Last I heard of him, unfortunately, was that he was killed by Death Eaters,” the goblin teller stated, a sad look on his face.

“What’s a Death Eater?” the boy growled his question, fire burning in his eyes.

“They are followers of the last Dark Lord that was running around,” Flitwick provided. He was excited about this turn of events. He was going to give the boy all the information he deserved.

“Yes,” said Swifttooth, as he pulled out some parchmentwork. “They wanted him to join that side of the war, and he refused. Shame really, he died right before Harry Potter vanquished said Dark Lord. Had he hidden a while longer, he might be alive today.”

At that, Dean’s face fell.

“I am terribly sorry for your loss,” the teller continued, still looking sad. Then his face went more neutral. “However, I will make sure the ledger to that account is posted to you as soon as possible. It will arrive by owl in a few days. Take these parchments and bring your guardian to validate the vault. The money you just exchange will cover your school cost in the meantime.” The goblin shook his head sadly in remembrance. The boy’s father had been a nice young man, when Swifttooth knew him. It was ashamed he never met his son, who also looked to be a good lad. He handed over the few forms that would need to be filled out.

Dean took them as his anger diminished and he sighed a very depressed sigh. While it was great to know that his father hadn’t abandoned him and his mum, he had hoped the man was still alive. Still, it was better to know what really happened.  

“Thanks for telling me. Can I have a copy of that?” he asked, so he could show it to his mum. She had never mentioned his dad’s name, but maybe it was too painful. What with her thinking he ran off when he found out she was pregnant. Now that he knew the story, he could set it right with her, and they could look at the man with some reverence, for standing up to the enemy.

He did vow to himself to learn of the people who had denied him his father. They would rue the day they did that. He was more determined than ever to learn all he could, so he could keep that promise.

Flitwick put his hand on the sad boy’s arm. “I am sorry that you found out this way,” he said. Then led the child out of the bank. “Let’s get some ice cream, my treat, and give you a moment to get this all straight in your head. If you want, I can take you home, or we can finish our shopping, and you can mull this over a bit longer.”

“Thanks, Professor, I’d like some ice cream,” the dazed boy said, following along behind the tiny man. It was a trying day. First finding out he was a wizard, then then finding out his dad hadn’t left his mum. Maybe some magical ice cream would make it all seem okay. He perked up a bit at that and put his hope in the magical world to boost up his morale.

After all, it was magic.

They did have some ice cream, and it did make Dean feel better. Little did he know, but there was a slight Cheering Potion in the confection. He had ordered the brightest and most colorful ice cream in the shop, and it was called the Cheering Up Sweet. The professor encouraged him to try it, and it was quite tasty.

They did the shopping, meet a few people, and Dean went home and told his mum the news.

She was confused, happy and a myriad of other emotions. She had been angry at the man for so long she wasn’t sure how she felt now. She was above all happy for her son though.

Dean was determined to be the best wizard he could be in remembrance of his dad and to please his mum. That and he just wanted to be a good person. Though those Death Eaters better watch out.

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Rewrite 9/27/24: I added quite a bit to this one and corrected a plethora of errors.

Chapter Text

Another quick one. I got to thinking that not all muggleborn would be okay with the wizarding world, and the different creatures therein, so I picked Sally-Anne to be the different one.

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Professor Snape growled at the people in the Leaky Cauldron. They were all talking about Harry Potter and how they all met the boy. It was nauseating. He hated the fact that the spawn of James Potter was coming to Hogwarts. And judging from the reaction here in the Cauldron, the boy was just as much of an attention seeker as his father. He shook his head and put a hand on his charge’s back, and led her through the pub.

He had no idea why Minerva insisted that he show any muggleborn around, but she roped him into it every year. And every year, Albus sat him down and lectured him on how to treat the dunderheads. It was tedious. He knew how he was supposed to act, but they were all so… childish.

This year was the worst.

The girl he was escorting was a shy timid thing. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that Minerva picked the child on purpose. The poor thing feared her own shadow. It was strange though, because her parents were quite brave and forceful.

She was tiny and skinny, but not unhealthily so, more like a dancer. She had long brown hair, that shone red in the sun, and periwinkle eyes. She jumped at the slightest thing and was clinging to his robes like a limpet. He had no idea why she latched on to him. Maybe he reminded her of her father or something. The man was intimidating, after all. For a muggle.

“Come,” he said in a curt voice, leading her behind the pub.

“Yes, sir,” she said meekly, fearfully glancing around as if she was going to be attacked at any given moment.  

Snape sighed; he had no idea how to handle this. The children of his House were a lot more self-confident. He glanced down at that admittedly cute face and softened a bit. It was hard to stay mad as something that adorable. Merlin, he was getting soft. It was not ten years ago that he was fighting in a war. Now he was pandering to children.

“Don’t worry,” he said, patting her back, “nothing will hurt you here. Remember I told your parents I would protect you,” he added, hoping it would make her feel safer. It didn’t.

“Okay,” she squeaked, jumping back as the portal opened. She ducked around the Potion Master, grabbed his robes and then peeked to see who was coming.

“That was awesome,” a dark-skinned boy said, all but bouncing around. His trunk floating behind him, thanks to the Charms Professor. “My mum is going to be stoked.”

“Yes, yes,” said the tiny man with him in fond exasperation. He had been hearing about it all day, and while he was happy the boy was feeling better, he had hoped it would have settled down by now.

“Filius,” Snape said, nodding his head. He had great respect for his fellow professor. Though, he could do without the cheeriness of the man.

“Severus,” the little professor replied, shocked to see the dark man standing there. “I see it’s your turn. I’m surprised Minerva talked you into this yet again,” Filius giggled at the dour look that crossed the man’s face.

“Indeed,” was all the answer he got.

“Where is your charge?” Flitwick asked, looking around the small courtyard. He then spotted her hanging on Snape’s cloak. He had to hide another giggling fit. It was not often that someone took a liking to the sour man.

“Hello there,” Dean said, gazing at the mostly hidden girl.  He glanced at what he was sure was a vampire, if it were not for the fact the sun was shining on his greasy hair. He had to wonder what caused the man’s hair to be that greasy that it would shine like that in the sun. It was like looking at an oil slick. “Are you going to Hogwarts too?” he asked with a brilliant smile, turning back to the shy girl. She was less likely to bite his head off for looking at her.

She nodded and looked at Flitwick with wide fearful eyes.

Flitwick sadly smiled and turned his attention back to Snape. “We had quite a bit of excitement at Gringotts. Mr. Thomas here found out that his father was a wizard.”

“Indeed,” Severus repeated without the slightest bit of interest.

“Yes,” the oblivious professor said, patting Dean’s back. “You might want to see if your charge has any magical ancestors. It would make for a good experiment,” he added with a conspirator-like wink. “From what I was told, Mr. Thomas’s was the second vault opened today. The goblins are ecstatic. Well, as much as they can be at least.” He could care less what the Ministry thought, and he knew Snape was the same. It was only those teachers that were up Dumbledore’s nose that were in the slightest bit interested in keeping the muggleborn from finding out their origin.

Snape thought for a moment and looked at his skittish charge. He wasn’t sure the girl would even look at the goblins, let alone let them take her blood. However, it might get another vault open, and that would put the purebloods out of joint.

“I will think on it,” he said, guiding Sally-Anne through the portal without another word.

She seemed to be glad that they were moving along. Though, she was still scared out of her mind, and she wanted her dad there. It had taken two hours and a vow from Professor Snape to get her to come at all. She wanted to learn magic, and was glad she wasn’t a weirdo; however, she was still scared of the unknown.

Her parents had protected her all her life. She had had quite a scare when she was younger. A few bad men had tried to grab her. She had no idea why, but something happened, and the bad men had been blown away from her, letting her escape. Since then, her dad never let her out of his sight, except for school. However, he walked her to and from every day. She felt safe with him, and the professor reminded her very much of her dad.

She felt that no one would mess with the foreboding man.

Snape walked quickly through the Alley, Sally-Anne all but running to keep up, still clinging to his robes. They came to Gringotts, and the girl let out a scream and hid behind the professor. The… beings in front of the building were like stuff from movies, bad stuff. The movies she never watched, because they scared her so. She was sure she was going to have nightmares.

Snape sighed, and patted her reassuringly on the back, letting her bury her face in his robes.

Having dealt with this situation before, the two goblins tried to look as unimposing as possible. They didn’t smile, knowing that would make it worse, but they made sure that their eyes were kind. Both gave the girl a little bow and then looked away.

“Pr…Pr… Professor, what are those?” she whispered, pulling on the man’s robe. Her eyes darted to the goblins and back to the man she knew would protect her.

“Goblins. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you. If you are kind to them, they will return it in kind,” he explained, bending a bit so they would not be heard. It did not do well to offend the goblins.

“They’re scary,” she said softly.

“I promise, nothing will hurt you here,” he reiterated.

“Oh, okay,” she said, tightening her grip on his robe.

They entered the bank, went to the exchange counter and waited in line. It wasn’t that long because it was getting towards late afternoon.

When it was their turn, Swifttooth waved the timid girl forward. “Come, child, I will not harm you,” he said in a soft voice.

Snape marched forward and Sally-Anne was pulled along reluctantly.

“Miss Perks, this is a goblin. His name, judging by his nameplate, is Swifttooth. He will exchange your money into ours,” Severus explained, handing the goblin the money that had been given to him. The girl only had about a hundred pounds, it was enough to get the essentials, but little more. Maybe, if she did have a vault, it would help her buy more.

Sally-Anne just stared in horrid fascination. She wasn’t sure if she should run, or just hide behind Professor Snape. She chose the latter.

Snape sighed again, looked up as if praying to the heavens for strength and pulled her back around to front.

“You need,” he explained, “to get your money.” He wasn’t going to coddle her all day. She would have to learn to deal with the goblins without him being here, sooner or later. Now was a good time.

“Eep,” she said, looking at the floor. Then slowly crept forward and quickly grabbed the bag that the teller had left on the counter and scurried back behind the professor.

“Swifttooth, Filius informed me that you do inheritance test,” Snape stated, then once again nudged the girl to the front. “I would like to see if Miss Perks has a vault,” he added, placing a hand on her shoulder so she didn’t hide again.

“Is this what you want, child?” Swifttooth asked since he needed her permission. Unlike the last boy, this girl was muggleborn.

“Will it hurt?” she inquired, pressing herself back against Snape’s legs.

“Only for a moment,” the goblin confessed, and then he explained the procedure.

She was intrigued, it might explain a few things to her parents, if they knew where they came from. They were always going on about how history was important. So, she took the pin, screwed up her eyes and jabbed her finger. That hurt.

She then did as the goblin said and smeared it across the paper. The name Goodwin appeared.

“Oh, very good,” Swifttooth said, not smiling. Goblin teeth were frightening to the skittish. “This means you have a vault. Though, I can tell you nothing about your family. Take this to the teller over there,” he pointed a few windows away, “and he’ll fix you right up.” He changed procedure for her because, the vault in question held very little, and therefore did not have a ledger, just a statement. She could take that home today. There was no research involved.

“Thank you,” she said meekly, and then she quickly grabbed the parchment and scurried back to Snape.

The Potion Master sighed and guided her to the other window.

“Sharpclaw,” he said, glancing at the nameplate, “Miss Perks has just discovered she has a vault. Will you help her?” he asked, glaring at the poor teller, as if to say, ‘don’t scare her further’.

The goblin was not impressed. He held out his hand for the parchment in a rough gesture, and Sally-Anne looked like she was about to faint. Severus took it from her hand and gave it to the goblin. The teller glanced at it and smiled, causing the girl to ‘Eep’ again.

“I will make you up a key, and then give a statement as to what is in the vault. However, she needs to bring her guardians here to validate it,” Sharpclaw said, reaching under his counter for a black bowl.

He put the parchment in the bowl, poured a potion on it, tapped it three times, waved his hand a bit. This caused a cloud of purple smoke to appear. When it vanished, there was a small gold key. He took the key, pulled out another parchment, pressed the key in the square in the upper right-hand corner, waited for it to finish, and then handed it all to Snape.

“Thank you,” the curt man said and guided Sally-Anne out of the bank. He took a quick glance at the paper and noted it only had about 200 galleons. He rolled it up and put it in his pocket. He would explain to her parents what they needed to do, the exchange rate, and how the bank operated.

The girl looked on the verge of tears but was smiling at the same time. While she was happy that she from a magical family, there were still too many weird things all around her. Something banged off to her right, and she screeched and jumped the opposite direction.

“Don’t worry,” Snape said, pulling her back towards him, and glaring at the boys playing by the toy store, “it’s only a toy going off. Now, we have enough to get your shopping done. I will then take you home and explain to your parents about the vault. They can come here and get it straightened out,” he explained as he swiftly walked to the luggage store.

“Thank you,” she said, following along.

She was still going over all that had happened, and she was glad that they were out of the bank. Though, she knew she would have to come back. This time, though, her dad would be with her, so it was alright.

They quickly did the shopping with only a few scares and Sally-Anne was home. She was so relieved at being there that she let Professor Snape tell her parents about the vault.

She and her parents went back the next day and validated it. Her dad put a bit more money into it, but other than that left it alone. He wasn’t sure his daughter was suited to the magical world and didn’t know how long she’d be staying there. However, no matter what, they were going to get the books they needed and study up on this strange culture.

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Rewrite 9/27/24: I only added a bit to this one and there were only a few corrections.

Chapter Text

Thanks for all the reviews.

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A contrasting couple stood outside the Leaky Cauldron. The older woman, a short dumpy lady, who had crumpled clothes and seemed to be covered in a thin layer of dirt, smiled as she looked at the entrance to Diagon Alley. This was one of her favorite things to do at the end of the summer. It got her out of the greenhouses, and she got to see the amazement on young people’s faces. It made her heart soar to introduce younglings to the magical world.

She glanced at the boy she was escorting. The boy was average height, very tidy, slicked back light brown hair, and dressed in comfortable casual business mugglewear. He had an aristocratic face and was slightly chubby. She could tell, via the talk with his parents, and his demeanor, that the child was a bit spoiled.

Right now, he had his nose wrinkled up in distaste but wasn’t commenting. “Mr. Finch-Fletchley, through that pub is where we will go and get your school supplies,” she said brightly. Then she walked forward, knowing he would follow. They always did, no matter what they thought of the bar.

Justin was wary, he kept his stiff upper lip, but he really didn’t want to go into that dirty place. He might catch something fatal. Still, having been taught manners since his nappies, he followed the nice lady. He would just make sure that he wouldn’t touch anything. The place looked like it had not been cleaned since the industrial era.

Pomona Sprout, for that’s who the lady was, called gayly to the barman, Tom, and bustled out the other side of the building. She rarely talked to Tom; the man would ramble on if she did so. If you gave him a moment, he took an hour. It was simply easier to greet him and move on.

She waited for her charge in the courtyard, knowing he had followed, and then tapped the bricks. A large smile split her face as the boy, who had been stoic up until now, looked around in awe. His eyes got large, and his mouth dropped.

“Wow, this is unreal,” he said, taking in all the hustling and bustling that was going on. He noted the strange clothes, and the messiness, but it was still a sight to see. Everywhere he looked someone was doing magic.

“Indeed, it is,” the professor said starting down the cobblestone way. She was quite used to it but seeing it anew through the muggleborn was so refreshing.

Justin kept to her side, not wanting to get lost. His eyes were moving everywhere, and he was deciding how to spend the massive amount of money his mum had given him. There were things here that looked like they would be great fun, and he wondered if he was going to be able to buy them and use them at his home. There were some carpets that looked like they cleaned themselves, and he wondered if they flew. There were some self-stirring pots, spoons and teacups. Those had to be dead useful.

Professor Sprout had told him that he could not do magic at home since it was a muggle house. However, if it wasn’t his magic, he wondered, could he get away with purchasing some of this stuff. He’d ask when they were done with the bank.

“Now, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, we are about to arrive at the bank. Gringotts has been around an awfully long time. The goblins in charge, are very business oriented. So, be nice and courteous, and try not to offend them,” the professor said, stopping for a moment to make sure he was listening.

“Goblins?” the boy asked, a bit fearfully. “They’re real?” he like, Hermione before him, had read Tolkien. The only goblins he knew of were the ones that ate humans.

“Yes, they are,” she said, still smiling. “However, I am led to believe they are nothing like those in the stories muggles read. Like I said, they are businessmen. While we have had many wars with them, right now we are at peace.” She hoped her explanation put him at ease.

Justin swallowed hard. Nobody told him there’d be goblins. He wondered what else was real. However, he decided not to ask right now. Taking a few deep breaths he nodded and said, “Okay. I’m ready.” He was a Finch-Fletchley. He’d fake it until he made it.

“Give yourself a second, dear,” she replied noting his pale face, and gave him a few more moments to pull himself together. She understood how hard it was for the uneducated to wrap their minds around the new world they were being introduced to.

They were passed by a greasy-haired man, who had a little girl clinging to him. She seemed even more scared than Justin was.

“Professor,” they heard the little girl say, “I thought I was… muggleborn.”

“Some believe that all muggleborns have wizarding ancestry,” the man explained, walking briskly past the contrasting couple. He nodded to Sprout, who smiled back. And then the man and girl moved away taking their conversation with them.

The two watched them a moment, and then Justin looked at Pomona and asked, “Is that true? I might have a wizard in my family?” He seemed excited at that prospect. It did make sense. Magic had to come from somewhere.

“Like Professor Snape said, the man who just passed, that is what some believe,” she answered brightly. “Now, not everyone agrees, and there are those that don’t want it to be proven, hence they made laws against that knowledge to be given freely. However, since you asked, I can tell you that you can get a test done at the bank to see if it holds true for you,” she informed him with great relief.

She, unlike some of her colleagues, never liked that law. A lot of her muggleborns never did the test and had their unclaimed vaults seized by the government. However, her hands were tied by magic, laws and prejudice.

All laws in the wizarding world had a bit of magic tied to them to keep the citizens law abiding. It wasn’t a great deal of magic, but enough to keep honest people honest. It was only those who really hated the law, that could break them. Though not without repercussions.

There was always a price to pay. Magic was fair that way. If you were true to it, it was true to you. If you thwarted it, you paid the price. If the crime was deep enough, then your family could pay for many generations.

The Weasleys were fine examples of that, money will always be tight to them. The Malfoys, on the other hand, paid by having very few children, and tagged with the name that meant Bad Faith. Very few trusted them, and they only got where they were by judicious use of money.

One could eventually come out from under the crime, say the Weasleys and the Malfoys. If they lived honest lives. However, if the family continued their criminal ways, they will forever be burdened, or have further repercussions added to their family.

Still, Pomona believed in the karma of magic, and she knew everyone would get their just desserts, good or bad, in the end.

She was hoping that this year, the rumor would start again, which it had been decades since the last time, and that was quashed almost immediately. Those that found out they had vaults were threatened with death if they passed on the information by reprehensible purebloods. Karma would pay those people back, one way or the other. Meanwhile, those that left the magical world were thriving in the muggle world. Completely uncaring about the world that shunned them.

Dumbledore, for all his toting about equal rights, just let it all slide. For a fighter of Dark Lords, the man hated violence, and said that everyone deserved a second, sometimes fifth, chance. He didn’t want to upset the delicate balance the wizarding world was in. If too many of the muggleborn took their place in society, then the whole structure could come tumbling down, according to him.

Sprout was of another opinion. She felt that her world could use a kick in the pants.  It had been left too stagnant. There hadn’t been change in decades.

While the professor was ruminating, Justin was pondering on the fact that his family might have just become richer. He had been put down for Eton, and he had given up years of hard work to come to this new world. When the letter had arrived, he sat with his parents and discuss if it were true or not. They decided that if it were, that he would go and see if a profit could be made. Professor Sprout showed up two days later and verified it was all legit.

If what the professor said was true, about long-lost relatives, then it might have been the right decision. He would have to ask his mum to send him some non-magical schoolwork. He wanted to make sure that he didn’t fall too far behind. He was expected to take up the family business, which, believe it or not, was banking. Maybe, he’d ask these goblins how they did business and compare the two. If he was dedicated enough, then he could improve both, or they could work out a business arrangement.

By silent agreement, the two finally went to the bank. Justin, taking her word for it, didn’t jump or shout when he spotted the goblins, he merely nodded to them as he passed. He kept his face passive and business like. Well, as well as an eleven-year-old could.

They nodded in return and opened the doors.

Justin noted the poem above the door and smirked. Yes, these were the type of people his father would do business with. He couldn’t wait to see how it all played out.

The first thing they did, was change the money his parents have given him into wizarding currency. The bottomless bag held over 500 galleons, more than enough to get his stuff and perhaps some toys and books.

They went through the steps of heritage, and he did find he was indeed richer and that his wizarding family name was still the same. It appeared that his ancestors were very low key and had squibbed out only a few decades back. Before they disappeared into the muggle world, they had set up some investments, that had paid off.

Swifttooth offered to send a ledger, but Justin wanted to go to the vault, so they were guided to Sharpclaw.

“Can I go to the vault?” Justin asked Sharpclaw. “I’d like to see if they left anything behind.” He might be able to show his parents something tangible.

Sharpclaw looked to Sprout, she nodded, so he said, “It’s your vault. Do with it what you please. However, if you want to take money out, you must bring your parents to validate the vault. You can, however, remove documents, books and such,” he added, making sure the boy knew the loophole in those binding laws. It was pureblood ignorance that made it so ‘family magic’ couldn’t be hindered.

“Great,” the boy said, nodding his head to the teller. There might be a family tree in there. That would be brilliant, and they could hang it in the manor.

“Griphook!” Sharpclaw bellowed.

The cart goblin appeared and was told to take the two to the vault.

The whole ride down, Justin asked question after question about how the bank was run. Since Griphook was only a cart runner, he really couldn’t answer them all. However, Justin got enough to get the general idea. Plans on what to tell his father were percolating in his head. This was going to be great.

It was a shame that galleons were spelled so they couldn’t be melted down. Plus, they were also spelled against being used by muggles. If someone tried, the galleon would be classified as stolen and disappear. It was worked into the metal that only magicals could handle it. There were many safeguards and spells on the coins to protect the Statute of Secrecy.

Justin was a bit put out. There went his plans on becoming disgustingly rich. Oh well, he’d just have to make more money some other way. He was a hardworking young man and wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty, as long as dirt wasn’t involved.  

They got to the vault, and Griphook opened it. There was a vast amount of money, and a good deal of documents. Justin quickly flitted through them and picked out the newest. He then grabbed some of the books and scrolls. As well as the family tree tapestry.

There were papers on the investments made, and he could see that he had a good amount invested in the local newspaper.

That was perfect.

Using the press was one of the things he learned on his father’s knee. If he could get a lawyer and learn the laws, he could become one of the elites here, like his family was in the non-magical world. If there was one thing he knew, it was work as hard as you can to be on top. He’d have to become friends with other elites and network his way there. Which was okay, because he knew how to make friends and rub elbows with the best of them.  

Look out wizarding world, Justin Finch-Fletchley was here.

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Rewrite 9/28/24: Added quite a bit and corrected a few mistakes.

Chapter Text

Now it all ties together. Judging from the end, this is going to be a full-on story.

I know many of you wanted Colin Creevey, but he doesn’t start until next year. I might do a separate one-shot for him.

Thanks for the reviews.

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Harry was confused. He was standing in King’s Cross Station and had no idea what to do next. Hagrid hadn’t told him how to get onto the platform. He looked ridiculous with his trunk on a trolley and his owl hooting at him. Everyone around him was giving him queer looks. He tried to blend in, but with his secondhand clothes, which were much better than Dudley’s, and his pet being noisy he stood out.

He had had a heck of a great few weeks since his birthday. The Dursleys had left him alone, mostly. They didn’t particularly care that he had new secondhand clothes. He had told them that the school had given him a stipend of a few pounds. They believed him and tried to get it off him, but he threatened to rat them out and they left him to it. So, he shopped a few of the charity shops and now had his own things.

Now though, he was just getting to the point of a nervous breakdown standing alone in the station, when he spotted a girl and her parents. She stood out because she was already dressed in the school uniform, sans robes. She didn’t have an owl, but she had the Hogwarts’ crest on her blazer.

“Excuse me,” he called to them, “does the word Hogwarts mean anything to you?” he asked, quietly when they stopped near him.

“Oh yes, but shush, others can’t know,” the bushy-haired girl said, closing the distance between them. “Weren’t you told how to get to the train? That was very neglectful of them. You can come with us. I know the way,” she said hurriedly, and grabbed his shirt and started pulling him along.

“Hermione,” her mum chastised, making the girl halt her progress. “Let the poor boy follow on his own accord,” she reprimanded, smiling at Harry, who nodded thankfully back.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just ever so excited,’ the now named Hermione said, letting Harry go, but hurrying along.

“It’s fine,” Harry mumbled, wondering what he was getting into. He walked behind her, and they came to the partition that separated platform 9 from 10.

“We have to go through the wall,” she said, looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard, and then seeing his confused look, she added, “It’s magic. Really, it won’t hurt you. Professor McGonagall told me all about it. It’s so non-magical folks don’t see the train. The barrier has a spell on it to hide us going through.” She sounded a bit imperious. Like she was used to being the smarter person in a group. “We have to protect the Statute,” she said, with a wrinkle of her nose.

Harry looked at the wall with trepidation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to run at what looked like a brick wall. He might hurt Hedwig, not to mention himself. Did he take this girl at her word? He didn’t know her from Jack. However, she did seem to know what she was talking about, and she said McGonagall told her about it. That was the woman who had signed his letter. She would know.

“I’ll go first,” she offered, seeing his discomfort. “But first I have to say good-bye to my parents. Their nonmagical, you see. So, they can’t go through. Well, my dad is from a magical family, but he doesn’t have much magic, so they call him a squib. Isn’t that the most horrid word?” she asked, then without waiting for a reply, she turned to her parents and tearfully said her good-byes.

“It’s okay, honey, we’ll see you at Christmas,” her mum said, petting her hair.

“Okay, Mum. I’ll see you then,’ Hermione said, then turned quickly, as if she would change her mind if she stayed another second, and ran, pushing her trolley through the wall. She disappeared without fanfare.

Harry gaped; she made it.

“Go on, young man,” the girl’s dad said, giving Harry a gentle push.

Harry took it as his cue and followed behind his new acquaintance. When he got through the barrier, he marveled at the red steam engine train. That and the crowd of magicals that were milling around. There was magic being performed everywhere as parents were putting things on the train and cleaning and straightening up their children.

Hermione grabbed his sleeve and proceeded to pull him towards said train. She rambled on about all the research she had done, including the first-year curriculum, while they stored their trunks. With her guidance, they found a compartment and settled in.  Harry put Hedwig on the rack above and sat opposite the rambling girl. They fell into an easy conversation, while Harry ate up all the information.

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While Harry and Hermione were getting settled, another meeting was happening.

Sally-Anne Perks was waffling. She and her parents had talked about Hogwarts this last month. It was decided, after much reassurance from Professor Snape that Hogwarts was safe, and that she would attend. It was only after they had discussed it that they sent her reply. It was almost late, they waited until the last moment.

However, now that she was here, she didn’t want to go. She knew that her parents had spent quite a bit of money on this, so she tried to steel her nerves. Her breathing was erratic, and her palms were sweaty, but she was trying her best.

She was brought out of her indecision by a cheerful voice.

“Hey there, I remember you,” a dark-skinned boy said from behind her. “You were in the Alley. You were with that greasy-haired professor,” Dean exclaimed, coming to her side, followed by his mum.

“Yes,” she said, shaking a bit, trying not to hide behind her father. It did relieve her to see a familiar face, even if they had only met for mere moments.

“Do you want to sit together on the train? We can find other muggleborn and be in a big group,” he offered, thinking that she might feel safer with more people.

Their parents were chatting behind them, looking at the two smiling. The Perks were just glad the cheerful boy was nice enough to stop and help their daughter. They were fretting so. Their child was so delicate.

“Did you say muggleborns?” another boy asked, stopping next to them. His parents, in very spiffy clothes, nodded to the other adults, and said hello to them. They offered to have tea and chat when the kids were on their way. It was excepted by all.

“Yeah, oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud,” Dean said, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “It’s all still new to me,” he explained with a wave of his hand. He had read the books that he had gotten from his dad’s vault when he and his mum had returned to the bank, but it was all so mysterious and new. His dad had talked about being a muggleborn in a new world and how frustrating it was, Dean was a bit discombobulated on what to do next.  There didn’t seem to be anywhere for muggleborns in this new world, but they were brought here anyway.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure no one else heard. I’m Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he said, holding out a hand towards Dean and glancing at the painfully shy girl next to him.

“Dean Thomas,” the other boy offered, shaking hands. “I’m sorry, I never got your name,” he said, looking at Sally-Anne.

“Sally-Anne,” she replied with a quick nod of her head.

“Me and Sally-Anne are going to sit together, want to join us?” Dean asked with a bright smile.

“I’d like that,” Justin agreed, then they all turned to their parents and said their farewells. Sally-Anne was crying hard, so Dean took her hand and gently led her away, all the while telling her it was going to be alright. That he and Justin wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

They made it to the platform and all three of them stopped and looked on amazed or frightened as their personality dictated.

“Cor, that’s a big train,” Dean said, his eyes wide with amazement.

“It’s a beauty,” Justin agreed as he took Sally-Anne’s other hand, placing the girl between them. He tucked her hand in the crock of his elbow, like a gentleman, and they moved off.

They put their luggage in the luggage car, each having a satchel for their robes, and made their way down the corridors, looking for someone their age. They came across a bushy-haired girl and bespectacled boy. The boy looked dazed and confused, while the girl was chatting at him a mile a minute.

“Hey there,” Dean said, poking his head in the doorway. “Can we join you?” he asked, waving to the two with him.

“Sure,” Harry said, waving them in. He was more than willing to welcome newcomers. He was here to make friends. “I’m Harry Potter,” he said, holding out his hand to Dean. “This is Hermione, sorry I don’t know your last name,” he added, looking at her shyly. He remembered her name from her mum snapping at her. It was a unique name.

“You’re Harry Potter,” Hermione all but yelled, not once having introduced herself. She was just so nervous. There was so much to learn and teach.

Harry slouched in his seat, trying to look smaller. “Um, yeah,” he said, his eyes darting to each of the children in the carriage. They were all staring at him with various degrees of awe.

“I’ve read about you…” Hermione started.

“I did too,” the three others voiced, loudly or shyly as their personality dictated.

“Um, okay,” Harry said, looking around, hoping to find a friendly face, which he did in Dean.

“No worries, we won’t fuss,” the dark-skinned boy said, then added pointedly to the others, “Will we?” He saw that Harry was uncomfortable with all the attention.

They all made noises of agreement, though Hermione did so reluctantly.

“So, how was your shopping trip?” Justin asked, hoping to draw their attention to him. “Mine was exciting. I found out I’m from a long-lost wizarding family,” he said smugly. “Professor Sprout said there’s no such thing as muggleborns. That we’re all related to magicals.” He took the seat across from Harry, Dean sat Sally-Anne next to him and then sat next to her.

“I found out I was a half-blood. Professor Flitwick said that it’s not well known. If I hadn’t run into Hermione, there, I might have never learned about my dad,” Dean explained, making Hermione blush at remembering knocking over the tiny professor.

“I did too,” Sally-Anne said softly, hiding her face in her long hair.

“That’s what my research said too,” Hermione said, then lowered her voice and waved them all to bend forward a bit so they could hear. “I found a book in a secondhand store, it’s banned, though I didn’t know that when I bought it. It tells of all the times in the past that this knowledge got out and the death threats that were made to keep them silent.” She was speaking in such a conspiracy like whisper that the boys were intrigued. Sally-Anne on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with it. She just wanted to go to school and then go home.

“Really?” Harry whispered, half afraid, half angry. This was fascinating and frightening at the same time. Death threats were scary.

“Yes. We’re going to need to not talk about it loudly. I want to start a conspiracy, just us muggleborn,” Hermione stated, leaning forward more and talking softer. “If we get a large enough group, on the sly, we can either stand up for our rights, or take our money out of the wizarding world, and let them suffer for their stupidity.” She nodded her head decisively, then sat back to see how they’d take it.

Justin glanced at the door to make sure no one was there. He liked the idea, right off. He thought about all the progress he and his dad had made in talking to the goblins and their lawyers. They were working behind the scenes to get the debit and credit cards going in Gringotts. There was a lot of laws to go through, and Justin didn’t understand half of it. However, his dad made sure he got the gist. He thought about what Hermione had just said, and with what they’d uncovered, and he felt that might be the right way to go about it.

“We can talk to the goblins,” he said, waving them all to lean forward again. “They want the vaults open. The head goblin, Ragnuk, he met my dad, said that the government, I think it’s call the Wizengamot, will take the vaults if they are not claimed. That’s why the purebloods don’t want us to know.”

That caused the other kids, bar Sally-Anne, to widen their eyes at the unfairness of it.

“That’s what I learned too,” Hermione offered, her tone soft and harsh. “I had my vault opened and there was ever so much information in there. My parents were very upset that the government is trying to suppress this information.” They had spent weeks going over it all, and they set up a game plan to get out from under the wizarding worlds thumbs. Well, the starts of one anyway. It all pended on how the other muggleborn reacted.

Dean, too, was angry. It was prejudice, pure and simple. Being of African descent, it made his blood boil that he would be looked down upon here too. He thought, perhaps, that he had gotten away from all that tripe, now it was just in a different flavor.  His dad’s papers mentioned it and he had hoped that his dad was just a special case, but he could see it was widespread.

Sally-Anne was just plain worried that she had gotten herself into something that would hurt her. She wondered if it was too late to sit elsewhere.

“I have some parchment from a store down Knockturn Alley,” Hermione said, slyly, making the boys’ eyes go wide again.

“You went down Knockturn Alley,” Dean said in awe. “Professor Flitwick told me to never go there. At least, not until I was older.” He now had deep respect for the girl.

“My parents were with me,” she explained as if it were no big thing. “This secret parchment is not illegal, per se, but it is frowned upon. What it does is let people talk to one another. You only have to touch your wand to the master document, and we can all chat. No one else can read it, which is why the government doesn’t like it,” she said, reaching into her bookbag and handing them each a sheet. Then pulled out an index card, which was the master document, and nodded for them to do as she said.

This was part of the plan she and her parents had come up with. They had always been staunch supporters of equal rights, and if Hermione had not already been accepted at Hogwarts, they would have pulled her out. However, by accepting the invite, they were now bound to a contract that made sure that she finished up to her OWLs. Boy were her parents angry. They took it all the way to the Ministry but were told that it was a binding contract.

This conspiracy was them rebelling. Though they made sure to tell their daughter not to do anything dangerous.

The boys immediately pressed their wands to the card and put the parchment in their bookbags. However, Sally-Anne just shook her head no and handed it back. She wanted no part of this. She would keep her mouth shut, and her head down. Hopefully, she would make other friends.

Hermione opened her mouth to reprimand Sally-Anne, but Dean glared at her and shook his head. “Not everyone is as brave as you. Don’t push your ideals onto others,” he said, firmly. He wasn’t going to let her bully the shy girl into anything she didn’t want to do.

“Fine,” she said, giving the other girl a smile in apology. She knew that she could be pushy, and when she was nervous, it was worse.

“Harry,” Justin said, changing the subject and taking the focus off Sally-Anne, “wasn’t your mum a muggleborn?” he asked, having read about the Boy-Who-Lived. He really didn’t believe half of it, and now looking at said person, with his taped-up glasses and worn clothes, he was doubtful about the rest.

“Yeah?” Harry answered questioningly.

Justin leaned towards him and whispered. “My family spent a lot of time with the goblins. If you can get out of Hogwarts one weekend, they can do a full family tree, for a fee. I think it’s a galleon. You can find out who your mum was related to,” he explained, thinking another vault could be opened.

“Oh, well that’s good,” Harry said thoughtfully, wondering how he would get out of Hogwarts without being noticed. “If I can’t leave during the school year, I’ll go this summer.” He was more than anxious to learn about his family.

“Good plan,” the rich boy agreed.

Just then a chubby sandy-blond boy opened the door. “Can I sit here?” he asked, bashfully. He had a satchel on his shoulder, and a toad clutched in his hand.

“Yeah, we have room for one more,” Dean said, smiling at the boy and moving away from Sally-Anne. Maybe the two shy ones could bring each other out of their shell. He sat by Harry and gestured at his vacated seat.

Justin took it upon himself to introduce everyone, and they all learned the boy’s name was Neville Longbottom. Dean tried to hide his snicker with a cough and only just barely managed it.

“What House does everyone want to be in?” Harry asked, hoping to get on a safe subject.

“I’ll bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” Neville whinged. His gran would be so upset if he wasn’t in Gryffindor.

“Well, I don’t know much about all of the Houses, but Professor Sprout, who took me shopping, was a nice lady. She told me that Hufflepuff was for the hard working and loyal. I can see me either going there or Slytherin,” Justin said, his nose in the air, like he was daring them to complain. He thought he’d do well in either House.

“Those are two drastically different Houses,” Hermione said, tapping her chin in thought. “You must be very ambitious, but willing to work hard to get there.” She did wonder just how high he was aiming.

“I am,” he agreed.

“I’m confused,” said Harry. “I thought only bad people went to Slytherin. That’s what Hagrid told me.”

“What hogwash,” Hermione said, with a wrinkle of her nose, that someone on the staff of Hogwarts would say such a thing. “Eleven-year-olds are not evil. Sure, some of them repeat after their parents, but they can still grow up to see the light, so to speak.” She looked at him with gentle understanding. She was prone to believe what adults told her as well.

“Oh, yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I think I’d like to get into Gryffindor,” he offered his opinion. He thought himself brave enough for that House.

“I wanted to go there as well,” Hermione said, then shook her head. “However, I did quite a bit of research and decided that I prefer Ravenclaw,” she finished with a nod.

“I’m pretty sure I’m Gryffindor bound,” Dean put in his two cents worth. “I’m brave enough. And I’d like to think I’m pretty chivalrous,” he added with a pleasant smile. “Where do you want to go, Sally-Anne?” he asked, drawing the girl into the conversation.

“Hufflepuff,” she said, still hiding behind her hair.

“I think that would be the perfect House for you,” he agreed, proudly.

“I think, I’m going to try for Hufflepuff too,” Justin said, thoughtfully. “What better place for a Slytherin to hide than in the house of the loyal?”

Everyone smiled at that and then thought about their attributes. Each wondering if the boy had the right idea.

“No matter where we end up, I’d like us all to remain friends. I mean, we hardly know one another now, but I’d like to change that,” Dean stated firmly. “Most of us have something in common, and I’d like to see us stick together. Don’t worry, Neville, we won’t bar you. You seem like a nice bloke. Are you a pureblood, by any chance?” he asked, knowing they’d have to keep what they discussed earlier to themselves.

“Um, yeah,” the shy boy confirmed.

“Great, you can tell us when we mess up, and teach all we need to know to succeed,” Dean said, cheerfully, clapping the blond on the back.

“I think,” Harry said, taking in the expressions of all his new friends, “that this will be the start of something historical,” he offered, sharing a wink with the other conspirators.  

‘Vive la révolution, was the thought of four of them.  

The rest of the train ride was spent trying to keep Trevor, Neville’s toad, from escaping, and in mundane conversation. However, the thoughts of the four schemers were going wild. They were all making plans and thinking of the future.

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Rewrite 9/29/24: Added quite a bit and changed a few mistakes.

Chapter Text

Okay, so I thought about it last night and this will not be a drawn-out story, like most of mine tend to be. My goal is under 20 chapters, covering all 7 years and after. We’ll see how it works; I do tend to ramble in writing.

Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, follows, and adding to communities.

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It had been almost two months since they had come to Hogwarts. Halloween was just a few days away. It had been hard for a few of them, being in a strange environment. They were settling, learning magic and making friends, but it was taking time.

Harry, Justin and Sally-Anne got into Hufflepuff. Hermione got her wish to be in Ravenclaw, and Neville and Dean were in Gryffindor. That didn’t stop them from sharing meals.

So far, the conspiracy was coming along. Slowly for some, and quickly for others.

It started with Hermione. She made it her life’s mission to get all muggleborns and half-bloods under her banner. She passed notes, gave out the secret parchments and held meetings in bare classrooms. All the muggleborn in her house knew what was going on. They secretly planned to either sneak out to Gringotts or go during the summer. She stressed how important it was to keep it on the downlow. Making sure that it could have deadly consequences if they didn’t.

They would hopefully spread the news to the half-bloods, and they could get their parents to do the same. The more vaults that opened the better.

The main idea was to ask the teller for a meeting room, then pay for the full heritage test. All in all, it would cost about ten pounds sterling, or two galleons. A small price to pay for what might be a great deal more. Even if there was no vault, they would have a name of an ancestor. That would help with the whole standing up for their rights. The more proof they had, the better off the plan would be.

Only the adults had to pay, the kids were covered under the Ministry. It was a loophole that they planned on taking advantage of. Though, they had to be careful. If too many of them went at a time, then they’d be caught out.

The others weren’t faring quite as well. Harry and Justin had only convinced a few people. Even when they told them that there might be money involved. Those that weren’t convinced were trying to stay loyal to the wizarding world, for giving them a chance to learn magic. It was a warped sense of loyalty, but there it was.

Dean was making some headway, but Gryffindors had to be approached with caution. If you told them they were being repressed, they would want to charge ahead and demand retribution. So, he had to feel them out first, and then if he felt they would keep the secret, he’d hand them a note telling them to meet with Hermione, who held the secret parchments and master card.

Neville didn’t know what was going on. He knew they were up to something, but so far, he hadn’t been brought in. He didn’t mind, he had friends, and Dean was a great guy to hang around with in the common room. He did hope that one day they’d confide in him, but until then he was just going to enjoy their company.

Sally-Anne kept completely out of it. She wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. She already had her vault and was more worried about surviving school. Hufflepuff had been the ideal House for her, but she missed her parents terribly. She just wanted to go home.

Some of the professors had an idea that something was going on, but only Sprout knew for sure. She had been approached by one of her seventh years, on the sly, and she had confirmed what the firsties were telling them. The Herbology Professor truly hoped that whatever the kids were doing worked. She may be a pureblood, but she believed in equal rights, not to mention, karma.

The other professors were mostly in the dark, especially Dumbledore. His focus was on Harry, mulling over why the boy was in Hufflepuff. So far, the Potter lad had not gone near the third-floor corridor. Not even with the hints Hagrid had dropped. Potter was uninterested, like he had something else on his mind. The headmaster had talked to the Sorting Hat, trying to find out why he had sorted Harry the way, but the Hat wasn’t talking.

Quirrell had dismissed the boy completely. Voldemort took one look at the scrawny kid in Hufflepuff robes and didn’t see him as a threat. He figured the boy’s mudblood mother must have done something that fateful night.

Hermione figured out quickly that the portraits would talk, so warned everyone, via the parchment. They were very diligent about being discreet.

Now though, the kids were all sitting at the Hufflepuff table. It was the only table that didn’t give them flak for sitting together. They did join the other tables from time to time, but they got ribbed by the upper years. So, they mostly hung out here, bar Sally-Anne, though she was nearby.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, not looking at him and dishing herself up some food, “how are you progressing? Have you talked to anyone new since last week? I really hope so, everything is coming along well on my part. You’ll let me know, won’t you?” she asked as quietly as she could, but not looking like they were up to something. She really wanted this to work. She didn’t know what the parents were doing, but getting the kids behind it, would be a boon.

“Yeah,” he answered just as softly, taking a sip of water, “Me and Justin talked to a few. There’s a girl named Tonks, seventh year, who sussed us out right quick. She’s helping. Says her dad is a muggleborn, and she wants to find out if he’s also got someone magical in his family. She says that would make her a pureblood.” He liked that thought. It would be great having Tonks on their side. She was a great girl and would stand up for them.

“That’s ‘Justin and I’, not me,” the bushy-haired girl corrected, then sighed. “She’s going to keep it a secret, right?” she inquired, very concerned that the other girl would spill the secret. That would derail everything they were trying to do.

“Yeah,” he said, turning his head a bit to look at her, giving her a nod. “Her dad’s a solicitor. He might be able to help too.”

“Oh, that is good news.” With Justin’s dad being part of high society and this girl’s dad being in law, that would go a long way in helping their plans.

“Harry,” Justin said a bit loud. “Are you going to try for the Quidditch team next year? You’re one hell of a flyer,” he asked, jerking his head to the Head Table, where Dumbledore was watching the group. They didn’t want to look suspicious.

“Yeah, I think I am,” Harry said, just as loudly. That seemed to please the Headmaster. How the man heard him from that far away, Harry didn’t know. The old man seemed to be obsessed with him. There was an air of disappointment around Dumbledore when he looked at Harry, and the lad wanted to know why. He had no clue what he had done to earn it.

“How do you like Hufflepuff?” Dean asked, sitting across from Harry and grabbing a sandwich. “I have to tell you Gryffindor took it personal when you didn’t go there. That Ron kid took it really hard. Not sure why though, I think his mum read those storybooks to him and his siblings. That’s the only reason I can think of anyway.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked at the redheaded family. Ron was looking at Harry with the same air of disappointment that the headmaster was giving him.

“I hate those books,” Harry grumbled, taking a vicious bite of his lunch. He had learned about them when he got to the school, and he hated them passionately. He brought his thoughts back to what Hufflepuff was like and chewed thoughtfully, pondering on how to answer. “Do you remember what Justin talked about on the train? It’s like that,” he finally decided on. “Hufflepuff is good though, we get hot chocolate at night, and the older years, tell us stories. It’s really relaxing, and quite fun.”

“Oh, really. Hmmm, that explains a lot,” Dean said, realizing what the other boy meant. He did wonder how Harry would have fared in the House of the Green. He was a hero, but those guys, especially the upper years, might not have appreciated the Boy-Who-Lived in their house. Merlin knows, Snape hated him. “Glad you like your House. Gryffindor is okay. The blokes I room with are nice, and there’s lots of games going on, mostly chess, but a few other. It’s never a dull moment in the common room.”

“Yeah. I think I dodged a bullet with this outcome,” Harry said, looking at the greasy-haired professor, who always seemed to be glaring at him. He still hadn’t figured out why the man hated him. Like the headmaster’s disappointment, he’d done nothing to earn that ire. However, being in Hufflepuff helped. After the first disastrous lesson, he went to Sprout, and she must have set the man straight, because he was no longer singled out in class. It didn’t stop the glares though.

The only person in all of Hufflepuff that liked the man was Sally-Anne. And he treated her with kid gloves. Heck he almost doted on her.

Dean glanced up at the Head Table and saw that Dumbledore was still watching them. So, he took out his parchment and wrote a quick note to Harry to meet him in a classroom they used after dinner. He had a surprise for the boy.

Harry pulled out his parchment, glanced at it, nodded and put it away. He then quickly filled his mind with homework assignments. It had been Tonks that told him that both Dumbledore and Snape could do Legilimency, and that since he probably had no shields, he should not look them in the eye, nor think about what he didn’t want them to know. So, all the conspirators learned quickly to fill their minds with meaningless stuff. It hadn’t been easy at first, but with practice, it became second nature. It wasn’t Occlumency, per se, but it did the trick.

“Hey, Neville, what does Hogwarts do for Halloween?” Harry asked the shy boy.

And the talk turned to the feast in a few days, and everyone was happy to change the subject.

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After dinner, Harry went to said classroom, as sneakily as he could. Which wasn’t very. However, the corridor that the room was down, held no paintings. So, they were slightly safe. As long as they didn’t stay there too long. He went inside and saw Dean with two redheaded teenagers.

“Harry,” Dean greeted, then waved to the two teens. “This is Fred and George Weasley. Good luck telling them apart, they tend to lie about who’s who.”

“Hello,” the messy-haired boy said with a stiff nod.

“I was talking to them about their pranks, and they told me that they knew how to sneak out of the castle,” his friend continued, nodding again to the twins. “According to them, they know all the secret passageways. So, I asked if they could smuggle you out. Don’t worry, they promise to keep it a secret. They don’t know the whole story, but they don’t care. If they are causing mischief, they’re in.”

Harry was a bit gobsmacked. He hadn’t figured out how to sneak out, but there the answer was right in front of him, grinning like loons.

The twins approached and each grabbed a hand and started vigorously shaking them.

“Wonderful to meet you, old boy,” said the one on the right.

“Right spiffing it is, ole chap,” the left one said.

“We are the Twin Horrors,”

“the Mischief Makers,”

“the Purveyors of Pranks.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” they both said as they let his hands go.

“Right, okay, nice to meet you too,” the dumbstruck Harry replied.

“So, we were thinking,’

“there’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming on Halloween,”

“so, we’ll smuggle you out then.”

“Then we can sneak you into Hog’s Head,”

“where, Dumbledore’s brother works,”

“Owns the place, doesn’t he?”

“Right you are, brother o’ mine.”

“Anyway, he’ll let us floo you to the Alley.”

“Hates his brother, won’t rat us out.”

“We’ll take you there, and you can do your secret thing.”

“Sly ones you are,”

“Too right,”

“You in?” they both asked.

A brilliant smile lit Harry’s face and he nodded quickly. It had been hard at first to keep up with them, as they tended to talk disjointedly and randomly added things, but he got the gist.

“Okay, meet us on the fourth floor,”

“after breakfast,”

“by the statue of the one-eyed witch.”

“And we’ll get you to where you need to be.”

“Right, times a wasting,”

“Too right, my uglier twin.”

“See you then,” they both said and exited the room.

“Wow,” Harry said, staring at the door. That had to be the single most bizarre experience he’d ever had with two human beings.

“Yeah,” Dean said sheepishly, “they take a bit to get used to. Good blokes though.”

“We’d better get going,” Harry said, his head still spinning. And the two left, splitting up and going in separate directions. Harry was still contemplating what he was going to find out at Gringotts. Who knew who his mum was related to. They might be important, and there might be even more money involved. Not that he was greedy, but he’d been poor all his short life, and he wanted security to get away from the Dursleys.

He went to his dorm, not really paying attention, waved at his roommates, and went to bed with a whirling mind. It took him a while to get to sleep.

Halloween came bright and cold. Harry made sure to put on one of Dudley’s old hoodies, under his robes. He was so nervous, that he only picked at breakfast. Hermione tried to get him to eat more, but his stomach was just too upset. He glanced at the Gryffindor table and noted the twins had no issue eating. Wankers.

Soon enough, the twins finished and left the Hall. Harry waited five minutes and followed. He met them at the statue, and they grinned, putting fingers to lips and gave the password for the one-eyed witch to move. It did, so they entered, waving Harry to follow.

They were half-way down the tunnel, when Fred spoke. “We’re going to be coming out in the basement of Honeydukes. It’s usually empty, but let George look first,” he said as they walked on.

“Alright,” Harry agreed, hoping they didn’t get caught.

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Everything went according to plan and soon they were standing in Diagon Alley. Harry had his hood pulled up and was keeping his face down. The twins didn’t care, what was one more detention to them. Still, they hurried Harry along and quickly made it to the bank. Once they got to the teller, Harry asked for a meeting room. The goblin, having done this many times in the last few months, nodded and led them there.

Fred and George waited outside. There was a bench along the wall, and they spent the time planning their next prank.

“Well now, Mr. Potter, we’ve been waiting for you,” the goblin stated, tapping his long finger on the table. He wasn’t smiling, and Harry wondered what he had done to offend the goblins. He seemed to be offending many people he’d never met. “We’ve been sending you post for months now. Ever since you appeared at Gringotts on your birthday. Why have you not responded?” he asked, a bit impatient.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve not received any post from Gringotts,” the confused boy answered, slouching a bit. Well, now he had his answer. He was hopeful they didn’t hold his missing post against him. He like the goblins; they had been nice to him on his birthday. Though, he did have to wonder where his post had gotten to. He knew Hedwig wasn’t delivering it.

“I’ll have that looked into,” the goblin seemed to grumble under his breath. “Now, how can Gringotts help you today?” he asked, his voice more amendable.

“It was pointed out to me that my mum was a muggleborn. I wanted to see if she had family that were wizards,” he mumbled his reply, still worried that he had offended them.

“Since you are a child, we can charge the Ministry for the test,” the goblin said as he pulled out a thick yellow parchment. “You need to use this quill to write your name. It will use your blood as ink. Don’t worry, it won’t leave a mark. You’d have to use it repeatedly to get one.” He handed the black quill to Harry.

Harry quickly wrote his name at the top of the page, feeling the scratch on the back of his hand, and watched in awe as words started to form. They were elegant and spidery, and flowed quickly across the page, listing his entire family. Some names were red, others blue. He asked about that.

“The red means magical, the blue not,” was the answer he got.

“Oh, okay,” he said, still looking at his family tree.

His mum was in red, but her sister was blue. Her mum and dad were blue, and it went back five generations before the name was red. Artemisia Lufkin, it said. “Who was she?” Harry asked, pointing at the name.

“That was the name of the first woman minister. She kept her maiden name after marrying because she was already in office. It looks like you’re related via her last born, who unfortunately lost her magic breaking a vow. It didn’t kill her, only just, but she was turned out as an oath breaker, and a muggle. It was a tragic spectacle when it all happened,” the goblin explained, pulling the parchment towards him. “The rest of the family was killed by the Dark Lady at that time, including the minister. Artemisia left quite a legacy, and her vault is still being held. Lucky for you, you came this year. Next year it would have been seized.”

“Yeah, lucky,” Harry mumbled, thinking he owed Dean, Fred and George a big favor for their help. If he had waited until summer, all would have been lost. Well, he still would know his family tree, but…

“You need your guardian to validate the vault,” the goblin stated, looking back at Harry. His eyes had softened during the course of the meeting. He could see the boy was polite, and out of his depth. They would find out who was taking the child’s post, and someone was going to pay.

“Shite,” Harry swore, then immediately said, “Sorry. My relatives don’t really like me. If they found out I had money they’d take it, and I’d never see a cent,” he explained. “I mean, Knut.”

“Hmmm, let me talk to my supervisor and we’ll see if we can’t use this family tree to keep the vault from being seized, but still out of circulation. When you turn seventeen, or get emancipated, you can validate it yourself,” the goblin said, rising from his chair and moving towards the door.

After he left, Harry started to worry. He really hoped the goblin didn’t take long, he had to get back before he was missed. He needn’t have worried, the goblin appeared only five minutes later.

“He said it was fine, and well with in the law. So, come see us when you’re an adult and we’ll release it to you,” the goblin stated, folding the parchment and putting it in an empty folder, to be stored with the Potter manager. “We’ll keep this safe,” he explained. “Have a good day, Mr. Potter.”

“You too… ummm… I’m sorry, I never got your name,” he said, tilting his head a bit questioningly. Last time he was here the goblins were nicer.

“Yes, we are not giving our names to those who do these tests. Plausible deniability, and all that,” the goblin stated with a wicked grin.

“Oh, okay, thanks anyway, sir,” Harry said, and quickly left, meeting the twins right outside the door.

“Did you get your task done?” the twin on the left asked.

“Yeah, thanks a million. We’d better get back though. I’m not sure how long my friends can cover for me. Dumbledore keeps tabs on me for some reason,” Harry hurriedly said, making his way quickly out of the bank.

The twins followed, and soon they were safely in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

Harry passed by Hermione on his way to lunch and whispered in her ear, “Mission accomplished.”

She grinned.

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Artemisia Lufkin is a real character in Harry Potter; however, I’m making up her history. The only fact is that she was the first female minister.

Rewrite 9/29/24: I didn’t add much to this chapter, just corrected a few mistakes.

Chapter Text

Okay, so I got a review and the whole plot for the story shifted. I didn’t let it dictate to me what to write, but my muse went wild. Thoughts flew in my head, making it hard to sleep, and plot after plot was thought about and discarded. The premise hasn’t change, but the outcome has.

It also will make the story shorter, and finish with more finality. So, thanks, N. A. Wennerholm, for tickling my muse. It’s not exactly what you wrote, but still…

A bit short, but a lot happens.

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Halloween evening had been a nightmare. It started out good, the feast was great, until the DADA professor came running into the Great Hall screaming about a troll. The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were quite upset at being sent in the direction of the dungeons, where the troll was reported to be. The two Houses stuck together as they made their way down. First years in the middle and spreading out by year.

They ran into the troll right before Hufflepuff dorms.

It was huge and ugly, and the smell made a few lose their dinner. Quite a lot of girls screamed, and some boys yelled in fear. There were even a few that fainted but were revived by their older housemates.

Everyone backed away, leaving the upper years in front and the younger years running for their lives. They hotfooted back down the hall to the Great Hall. They didn’t make it far. The upper years had taken care of the troll posthaste.

The sixth and seventh years in Slytherin all raised their wands at the same time and bombarded the creature with some iffy spells. While the older Hufflepuffs pulled the kids back and created a massive shield. It was like it was all preplanned.

Because twelve spells hit it in the head all at once, said head exploded, making more people throw up. The prefects were quick to herd the younger years to the dorms, leaving the older ones to report to the professors.

Whenever they showed, which was of course too late.

Skirting around the dead troll was gross, and Harry wrinkled his nose at the sight of the green blood and grey brain matter splattered all over the hall. He’d never seen anything like it and it reeked. They moved as fast as they could and were soon in their dorms. Harry was glad when they turned the corner and were at the Hufflepuff entrance. The Slytherins parted ways, and the older Hufflepuffs hustled them inside. They were quick to call house elves for stomach soothers.

When everyone’s stomach settled, the rest of the feast, set along the wall, was ignored. Instead, the kids all laid down to sleep in the common room. No one wanted to be alone, and those like Sally-Anne would not be calmed.

Madam Pomfrey came a bit later and gave the girl a Calming Draught and took her to the Hospital Wing. They never saw her again. Dean had been upset at her disappearance and wrote to her. She never answered. His parents did, having been in contact with hers, and told him that she was fine, but no longer knew about magic. Her core was bound, her memory wiped, and she was happy to be home. According to them, she practically begged to have it done.

Dean only told his friends, but rumor had it that she just couldn’t cut here, and the troll had been the final straw. He was upset, but happy, to report that she had retaken ballet and was quite content at being a muggle.

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After the event on Halloween, life went back to semi-normal. It had been a month since it happened when Justin pulled Harry into the boys’ bathroom.

“What’s up, Justin?” Harry asked, leaning against the back wall, his eyes exploring his friend’s excited face. Justin rarely got excited about anything.

“I just got a letter from my dad. He and some of the other parents have taken our cause to the Prime Minister. He then took it to the Queen. According to Dad, they’re looking to set up a completely different society. A new school and everything,” the other boy whispered, showing Harry the letter. He was vibrating he was so enthusiastic.

Harry skimmed it and pondered. Did he want to give up Hogwarts? Though, all his friends might be going to this new school, so it might not be too different. That and he could finally get away from the hero worship. Not to mention that the headmaster might not look upon him with such… distress. It was as if Harry wasn’t preforming the way he was suppose too be.

“Why doesn’t the Queen, I don’t know…  just come in and change everything?” he asked, still skimming the letter.

“According to Dad, She said that there was a treaty a long time ago that gave wizards a right to self-govern. He said, She said, that it would just be easier, and less costly, if we started our own place. He said, She said, that when we’re settled, She’d then have Her troops go in and give them a what for,” Justin said still whispering, but with a great deal of enthusiasm. Harry could hear the royal She in his statements. Justin must have great respect for the crown.

“Oh,” was all the messy-haired preteen could say, still unsure how he felt about it.

“And guess what, Harry?” his friend said, leaning forward even more. This time his eyes were glistening. “The goblins said they will secede too. My dad said that they are tired of all the stuff they have to put up with. And they would be more than happy to let the purebloods hang. Isn’t that great?”

“What about the good purebloods? You know, like Neville and the Weasleys,” Harry wanted to know. Neville was a cool kid, a bit shy, but nice enough. While he didn’t know Ron very well, the twins were good friends of his. They like to take him aside, along with Neville, and tell him about the wizarding world, and what that world expected of him. He wasn’t entirely happy with what they had to say, which gave him more than enough reason to be shot of this place. Still, he didn’t want to see the Weasleys hurt for what was being planned.

“Don’t know, maybe they can come with us. We don’t want to discriminate like they do here,” was the answer. Justin took back the letter and folded it to put in his pocket. “I’m going to give it to Hermione. Dad mentioned her parents, and I’m sure she would want to know. But keep quiet for now, okay?” he asked seeming earnest.

“Yeah, this is big. I won’t tell anyone. When do you think it will all happen?” Harry wanted to know, needing to make plans. Even if they were all in his head.

“Probably not until next year or so,” Justin said thoughtfully.

“Oh, okay,” the messy-headed boy said, a bit let down at that. He thought it’d be sooner. That would get him away from Dumbledore and Snape.

“Come on,” Justin said, pushing himself off the wall. “People are going to start looking for us.”

The two left the room, one bouncing, the other thoughtful. Both had a great deal on their minds, albeit the same thing, they were thinking different things. They met up with their roommates and all headed to the Great Hall.

The area in front of the dorms had been scrubbed so hard, that the stone walls almost gleamed. Harry was glad to see that, even if it just reminded him of the troll brains. He couldn’t scrub his brain of that sight.

They joined their friends at the Hufflepuff table and set about eating and chatting. Harry noted that Justin slipped his dad’s letter into to Hermione’s pocket.

She gave the boy a confused look and he winked at her, quirking an eyebrow. She nodded pensively and resumed eating.

The next few days there was an undercurrent of anticipation. None of the teachers could pinpoint it exactly. They all knew that it was coming from the students but couldn’t quite put their finger on why.  

Hermione seemed to be extra busy. She and a few older students stayed in the library every free moment they had. No one took much notice of this because the girl was always reading anyway.

The parchment Hermione had passed out, got used every night. Everyone was talking. Though, some of the girls were using it to gossip, that was minimal. Most were talking about the great exodus.

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A few days later, it was this time Hermione that pulled Harry into an empty room.

“What’s up, Hermione?” the confused boy asked, seeing her frown.

“My mum wrote me,” she said, slowly, like she was contemplating how to address what was bothering her. “Umm, Harry, about your relatives,” she started, looking down and frowning.

“What about them?” the boy asked, a bit of trepidation in his voice. Nothing good could come talking about the Dursleys.

“I don’t know how to say this gently, so I’ll be blunt, they’ve been arrested,” she said, looking at his face to see how he took that.

“Arrested? Why? I mean, they aren’t nice people, but they don’t break the law. My uncle is quite fanatic about being normal,” he said, extremely confused.

“Harry…” she started, then laid a hand on his arm, causing him to flinch. “Harry, did they… I mean, were you…?” she stuttered, then taking a deep breath. “Child abuse, Harry. They were arrested for child abuse.”

“What? They didn’t abuse anyone,” Harry said, more confused than ever.

“Harry, they found the cupboard. It had been cleaned, but there were markings on the wall, saying ‘Harry’s Room’,” Hermione said, her hand still on his arm, which tensed as she spoke. “There was an investigation, and they were arrested.” There were tears in her eyes now. She was just too young to have this type of conversation, but she was the only one who could. There were no adults here to have it with him. Not and keep it a secret.

“But…”

“Harry, I don’t know what they told you, but keeping a small child in a boot cupboard is not normal,” she said, raising her hand, and then putting an arm around his shoulder.

“I know, but it wasn’t that bad. I mean, they gave me clothes, a place to sleep and food,” he whispered softly, hanging his head, shame filling his face. He never wanted anyone to know about the cupboard under the stairs. It made him feel weak.

“You did nothing wrong, Harry. Nothing. Do you hear me? You are completely innocent,” she said firmly, tightening her one-armed hug. The tears were streaming now, but her voice was strong and steady.

“How did they find out?” he wanted to know. That didn’t make sense to him. The Dursleys would have never told anyone. They kept it quiet for so long.

“A bunch of our parents got together, like Justin said, and they wanted to talk to all the muggleborn parents. So, they wrote me and asked for names. I gave them who I knew. I know you’re not muggleborn, per se, but you were muggle raised. When my mum got to your place… well, let’s just say she wasn’t impressed. She called the police after seeing the state of your room, compared to the rest of the house,” Hermione explained, her brow furrowed in concentration.  

“I wouldn’t think Aunt Petunia would let anyone wander,” Harry mussed, knowing his aunt was prissy like that.

“Well, she asked for the loo,” was the reasoning. “Harry, what they did was bad. You understand that, right?” she asked, once more enforcing her feelings on the matter, hoping he did understand. The tears had dried by now, but they had left streaks on her face. She was trying to stay strong for her friend.

“Yeah, okay, can we not talk about this?” he pleaded. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Talking about it made it real, and he just wanted to hide from it.

“Just one more thing,” Hermione said, peering at his eyes. “You’ve been made a ward of the Crown. You will have a new home when school lets out.” She stared into his eyes, hoping to see some hopefulness there.

“Okay,” was all he said. He patted her hand, removed her arm and quickly left the room. He had a lot of thinking to do. Everything had changed since he came to the wizarding world. Some good, some bad, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it all.

Hermione didn’t let anyone know what they talked about, and he was thankful for that. She still squeezed his arm in passing, but mostly just stayed friendly.

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Christmas was approaching and most of the conspirators had been told about the plans for a new community. Many of them were excited to go home and find out more.

Harry was to stay at Hogwarts, there was nowhere else for him to go. Hermione offered to bring him home, but her parents shot that down, not willing to house a boy in the same house as their little girl. They were very protective. They did feel sorry for him, but it was something they wouldn’t bend on. She apologized before she left, but he understood, mostly.

Christmas time at Hogwarts was fascinating. The whole school was decked out in magical decorations, sparkling Christmas trees, and real fairy for lights. It was like a fairytale castle. Everywhere you looked you could see something magical. From the boughs of holly climbing up the staircase rails, jingle bells tinkling when you passed, to the fairies flittering around the ceiling. They flitted around the room and spread their glitter everywhere. It wasn’t like real glitter and didn’t stick. The whole place just took Harry’s breath away.

And since Harry was one of the few Hufflepuffs that stayed, he had a lot of time to himself. He wandered the halls and searched out for more hidden passageways, thinking about what his future held. He noted the queer looks he was getting from the headmaster.

He remembered when the man had called him to his office, right after the train had left. He had entered the very busy looking office, with trinkets puffing away, portraits talking and other things that just make the place just looked busy. Nothing stayed still, from the flying paperwork, to the self-writing quills, to the little doodads churning away.

“You wanted to see me, Headmaster?” he had inquired, standing by the door. Not had been sure if he should enter or not.

“Come in, Harry, and have a seat. Do not worry, you are not in trouble,” the old man said, waving a hand to the empty chair.

Harry had cautiously moved forward and perched on the edge of the chair. He kept his eyes on the desk in front of him, glancing every now and then at the headmaster’s face, but never looked him in the eye.

“Now then, my boy, I would like to talk to you about your family. It has come to my attention that they have been arrested and that you have been made a ward of the Crown. How do you feel about this?” the old man had asked, a look in his eye that said Harry’s answer was particularly important.

“I’m not sure how to feel, sir. I mean, they took me in, gave me clothes, and fed me. But they were not nice people,” he had said, echoing what he had told Hermione.

“Do you feel that you can forgive them?” Dumbledore had asked, clasping his hands together on the desk and leaning forward a bit.

“I don’t know,” Harry had whispered. Now that he had time to think about his childhood, he really didn’t know how to feel about the Dursleys. He was angry, sad, scared and a myriad of emotions.

“If you were given the opportunity, would you go back?” was the headmaster’s inquiry.

“No,” Harry had said slowly. “I would prefer to be where I’m liked.” He still hadn’t looked up.

“Being made a ward of the Crown, you have to go and live where they say. Would you prefer to live with a wizarding family? The Ministry can arrange that,” the old man had offered with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I think…” Harry started, then remembered the conspiracy, then just as quickly started thinking about potions. “I think,” he started again, “that I would prefer to live in the muggle world. I know what to expect there, and I’d be more comfortable.” He then smiled a smile he didn’t feel, but it seemed to relax the old man.

“Then that is what we will do,” Dumbledore had said, grinning brightly, as if that was the answer he had wanted all along. “You may go, Harry. I will call you back when your new family is found,” he had said importantly, shooing the boy away and going back to his parchmentwork.

“Thank you, sir,” was all Harry had said as he quickly left the room. Being there had made him extremely uncomfortable. He did wonder how the headmaster knew. Did the man have a spy in the neighborhood, or was he in contact with the muggle government? It was something to watch out for. 

Since then, he had wandered the school. The Weasley twins joined him now and then, but mostly he was alone. It was okay, he had a lot to think about.

When Harry woke Christmas day, he was surprised to see a pile of gifts waiting for him. He hadn’t bought anyone anything. He took a moment to feel bad about that, then he opened them and was happy to see they were mostly candy, with a few books thrown in. Nothing expensive, or overly thought out. They were from children after all, most of whom had only pocket change. That made him feel a bit better.

There was a mysterious gift of a cloak that made him invisible. Which, he cherished because it had been his dad’s, according to the note with it. He folded it up and put it at the bottom of his trunk.

He penned a few ‘thank you’ letters, making sure to apologize for not sending a gift, but promised he would not forget next year. After breakfast, he went to visit Hagrid to wish him a Merry Christmas.

Hagrid’s hut was warm and cozy. The giant furniture, the hams and fowl hanging from the ceiling and the roaring fire made for a unique setting. Harry always felt like a baby in the oversized chair. But Hagrid always made him feel welcome. They chatted for a while, and once again, small slips of the tongue came from the half-giant about what was hidden on the third floor. Harry paid little attention to them though, so Hagrid just sighed in relief, and changed the subject.

In his walking the messy-haired preteen found a room with a mirror. He walked in and stood in front of it. Instead of seeing his reflection, he saw all his friends. They were all smiling and pointing to a village at the bottom of a hill. At the far end of the village was a huge manor, with the houses sweeping out in front of it.

He wondered what that meant and looked at the top of the mirror. Seeing the writing and working it out, he sighed. ‘Oh,’ he thought, then shrugged. ‘Of course, my greatest desire is to have many friends and a happy safe home.’

He didn’t return, once more disappointing the headmaster, unknowingly.

The students returned and that underlying current was magnified tenfold. Everywhere Harry looked there were smug faces. A secret that everyone was bursting to share, but no one dared. Harry, himself, was itching to ask, but waited until someone told him.

It was okay, to keep this secret he would wait.

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Rewrite 9/29/24: Not much added to this chapter; only some sentences and a few corrections.

Chapter Text

Thanks for the reviews.

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That night, when everyone went to bed, the linked parchments were in overdrive, as everyone tried to tell everyone else what their parents had told them. It became a jumble of sentences, that were hard to decipher. Harry picked through it and realized that this might be his last year at Hogwarts. Which was both exciting and sad.

From what he was gathering, the school mansion had already been built. It was called The Dagworth-Granger Fine Institute of Learning and Magic. Named after Hermione, who was the spearhead of the whole movement. That and the goblins insisted that she get recognized.

It would incorporate both worlds’ curriculum. The Prime Minister and the Queen both agreed that this was a must. So far, it was set up to be a day school. Only portkeys could enter, except manually walking through the front door. The goblins were working on massive wards to keep undesirables out.

The town was already being formed. The local government had already been chosen, and it would all come together before school ends. There would be shops, a hospital, flats, houses, and even entertainment.

Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, the muggleborn that had left the wizarding world were uniting, and finally getting what they deserved. One the other hand, it might just close Hogwarts. A school that had been standing for thousands of years. That was a bit heartbreaking.

According to the ramblings of the parchment, the Prime Minister, the MI5, and a few other agencies, had been watching those that were turned out. So, it was a simple matter to get them together and let them know what was planned.

It seems that quite a few of them had been planning something similar, but didn’t have the funds, resources, or the political power to pull it off. They had not sat idle, no, just because they weren’t in the magical world, didn’t mean they didn’t practice magic. Not only did they practice, but they also improved. There were tons of new spells, and it was a simple thing to incorporate them to the new town.

The Prime Minister was glad to hear that. It made the whole conspiracy easier. He now knew what they wanted and gave them what they were missing. He even told those that didn’t know to go to Gringotts and see if they had vaults. He had a working relationship with the goblins, and they had no problem with people pulling their money out of the bank, since there would be a new and improved bank in the new municipality.

With judicious use of magic, it was only days that the school mansion, the hospital and townhall were erected. All it took was the muggleborns to pool their money and knowledge together to get it done, with plenty of help from the crown. The goblins were ecstatic, and were building a home under the town, along with the new bank. Treaties and paperwork were already signed, and all was going according to plan.

The town itself was in the highlands of Scotland. Nestled in a valley between some low range mountains. It was far from any normal town or establishment. They would be secluded, mostly because the Prime Minister agreed with the Statute of Secrecy. He knew how fickle the public was, and he and the Queen said that it was better to stay hidden.

There was an addendum, they had to follow the principles of the laws of the land. Since magic was different, laws would have to be conformed to fit. There would be no Minister for the time being. That would come after they took care of the current one.

The plan was that magicals would live in the town, but it would be open to the muggleborns’ parents. They would be able to come via portkey to shop for their children, visit the school or just plain look around. It had been debated that the parents could live there, but a mass majority of them didn’t want to uproot. They only wanted a place where their children would be safe and could make a living, it they so desired.

So right now, those that had been cast from the wizarding world had taken up residence. They were thriving and making a living there. It was still new and taking time, but they were establishing an economy, and it was growing exponentially.

That same night Nymphadora Tonks made sure to remind everyone not to think about it during the day, and never, ever, look Dumbledore or Snape in the eyes. It had to remain secret. Everyone took her at her word. This was just too important to mess up.

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The professors of Hogwarts were marveling on how the muggleborns were behaving. There were no arguments between them and the more radical purebloods. It was like they didn’t care what the others thought. They would simply smile a condescending smile and move away. Since they traveled in large groups, no one dared start a fight.

A week into school, Harry pulled Hermione into an empty classroom.

“Harry, what are you doing?” she demanded irritably, she had been heading to the library. There were things she needed to learn before the knowledge was lost to her.

“Sorry, I wanted to thank you,” he said sheepishly, rubbing his scar a bit out of nervous habit. “Umm, thanks for not using the parchment to tell me about my aunt and uncle,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Oh, Harry, of course I wouldn’t do that to you. It’s personal. My parents told me in confidence, only you were to know,” she said softly, giving him a one-armed hug, leaning in to look at his face.

“Okay, ummm, thanks again,” he said hurriedly and quickly skedaddled. Girls were weird, he thought for a moment she was going to kiss him or something yucky like that. 

The year moved on, and it was almost Valentine’s Day. Harry wondered that since he didn’t give Christmas gifts, if the girls would take it wrong if he bought them chocolates. He pulled Neville into a room and ran it by him.

“So, what do you think?” Harry asked, watching the shy boy scrunch up his face in thought.

“I’m not sure how muggles celebrate Valentine’s Day, but here in the wizarding world, giving chocolates means you’re interested in them,” Neville said thoughtfully, his face still scrunched up in thought.

“Oh, and eww, I don’t like girls like that. Gross,” he said, sticking out his tongue. Then he sighed. “What do you think I can do? I feel like a right berk not buying for Christmas,” Harry said with a sigh, and leaned against the wall with his arms cross, a pensive look on his face.

“Why didn’t you?” Neville inquired, a bit of hurt in his voice. He had gotten the thank you note, but it still hurt a bit that his friend didn’t think about him.

“Don’t know, didn’t really think about it, to tell the truth. I never got presents before, so I just didn’t think I’d get them this year either,” Harry explained with a sad shrug of his shoulders. There was a morose air about him, like someone had kicked his puppy.

“You never got a present?” the sandy-haired boy asked with awe. He got presents every year for every occasion. He couldn’t fathom not getting any. Heck, he still bought gifts for his parents, who were comatose. They would never understand they got gifts, but still received them every year. He just didn’t get it. This was the Boy-Who-Lived and he never got a present? Unbelievable.

“Well, Hagrid gave me Hedwig, so there was one,” Harry confessed with a bright smile. He would always remember his first gift and friend.

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Neville stated, then looked at Harry again. “Hey, Harry, what’s going on with the muggleborn. You don’t have to tell if it’s a secret, but rumors are starting, and some of them are pretty farfetched. There’s one that says you guys are going to storm the ministry, and take over,” he added with a chuckle, like that would be profound.

Harry’s eyes darted side to side, like he was looking for the enemy. He thought about what he could tell his friend, and settled on, “I can tell you this, but you can’t tell anyone, or even think about it hard. There are people here who can read minds,” he said swiftly and quietly, pulling the other boy further into the room.

“Don’t worry, Occlumency is one thing I’m good at,” Neville whispered, all but bouncing in place.

“Okay, there’s no such thing as muggleborns,” Harry whispered in his ear. “I can’t tell you any more than that. At least, not yet, but I will as soon as I can. You’re my friend, Neville, and I want you to stay my friend, no matter what happens.” He was earnest. Never in all his life had he had friends. Now he had many, and he wasn’t about to lose this one. Or any of them if he could help it.

“What do you mean?” came the puzzled response. “Of course, there are muggleborns. Your mum was one.”

“No, not really,” Harry answered, keeping his voice soft. “She’s actually related to the first female Minister of Magic.” He grinned proudly.

“Truly?” Harry nodded. “Wow, what…”

“Hey, what are you guys doing in here?” came a voice from the hall. It was Ron Weasley, they noted when the other boy entered the room.

“Talking about Valentine’s Day. Harry had a question,” Neville said, straightening up and shrugging.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, also shrugging. “Thanks, Neville, for letting me know. I’ll suss out the rest myself.” He clapped Neville on the shoulder, nodded to Ron, and left.

“What sort of question?” the redhead asked as Harry was leaving.

“None of your business, Ron,” Neville chastised, the messy-haired boy heard as he moved further away.

“Who wants to know about stupid Valentine’s Day, anyway. Only girls like that stuff,” Ron grumbled, watching as Harry walked down the hall as the two Gryffindors exited the room.

Neville just laughed and proceeded to his common room with Ron harping the whole way.

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For Valentine’s Day, Harry made simple cards, with the word ‘friend’ emphasized in each one. The younger girls giggled, and the older ones cooed. Some even kissed him on the cheek, making him wipe it off and glare at them. The boys thought it was dead funny and laughed every time it happened.

“Serves you right,” Dean said, after Tonks kissed Harry on the forehead and called him a good lad, messing up his already messy hair.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known they’d get all mushy,” the boy grumbled, wiping off his forehead, and slouching sullenly.

The others just laughed and ate their dinner.

Time moved on and soon it was exam time. Everyone was studying as hard as they could. The library was always full, as students fought over the books, revised, and generally worked. The exams themselves weren’t hard and it was the last week of school.

Harry and Justin were called to the headmaster’s office. They went up the twisting, moving staircase and knocked on the door. They were bid enter, so they opened the door. Harry’s jaw dropped at all the people that were crammed into the room. He recognized Justin’s dad, from the picture the boy had by his bed. He didn’t know who everyone else was, though.

“Come in, my boys, come in. have a seat and we can get started,” Dumbledore said, waving the boys in. The boys complied, Justin sitting by his dad, and Harry next to him. “To my right is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Next to him, is Dolores Umbridge, his Undersecretary. On my left is John Major, the muggle Prime Minister, next to him is Jane Albright, the head of The Department for Education, who I believe is responsible for the protection of children. And, of course, you know Mr. Finch-Fletchley. We are here to discuss the placement of young Harry Potter,” the old man said, nodding to each person as he named them.

The two boys mumbled their hellos, completely uncomfortable around all the officials.

“Harry Potter is a national icon in our community. He should be with a magical family. I already have many families willing to take him in and train him for his place here,” Fudge said as pompously as he could.

“We’ve already discussed this, Fudge. Harry Potter is a ward of the Crown. He was raised in the nonmagical world, and we will take care of him,” Major stated, pulling papers out of his briefcase. “Mr. Finch-Fletchley has filed all the paperwork and can financially support Mr. Potter,” he said, putting the papers on the desk in front of Dumbledore.

“You have no right,” screeched Umbridge, making everyone in the room flinch.

“I have the backing of the Crown,” Major said forcefully.

“We don’t answer to the crown,” Umbridge sneered, looking down her nose at the man.

“No, but Harry is registered in our world, and he does,” came the smooth reply. Even though everyone in the room knew she was wrong, bar the preteens. They did answer to the Crown, in a roundabout way.

“Harry, I know you said that you want to remain in the muggle world, is this still your desire?” the old man said, skimming over the paperwork. He sighed; it was all legal. There was nothing to be done about it. The Crown had the final word on the subject.

“Yes, sir,” was all the boy said, looking at the floor.

“But, Harry, my boy, don’t you want to live around magic? I know a family that will take you and teach you everything you need to know. I’m sure you are acquainted with his son, Draco,” the Minister of Magic tried to entice.

Harry wrinkled his nose. He didn’t know Draco well, since the boy had left him alone after the first time they met. Still, he seemed like Dudley, only skinnier.

“If my relatives hadn’t been arrested, I would be returning to them. I don’t see how this is different. Well, except I’m sure that Justin’s dad would feed me and stuff,” Harry said, thinking hard and quick on how to get his way.

“That just proves my point,” Fudge huffed, folding his arms, “muggles can’t be trusted with magicals.”

“Now see here, you overgrown windbag, I am a muggle, my son is a wizard, are you saying you’re going to take him from me and place him with a magical family? If so, then I will warn you right now that I will blow your head from your body before you could even lift your wand,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley snapped, glancing at the government officials to see how they took the warning. They seemed to be upset enough to let the threat slide.

Fudge sputtered, his frog companion screamed, and Dumbledore sighed.

“Really, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, is violence necessary?” the old man asked, handing the papers to Fudge to look at.

“He is threatening to take kids away from what they know and shove them on to families that line his pockets,” Justin’s dad said, putting his hand in his suit jacket.

Harry wondered if he really did have a gun.

“I did not,” the chubby man denied, “I was talking about Potter.”

“There is no difference,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley stated, his face getting red in anger. “They are both wizards that live in the ‘muggle’ world. Just because you people are stupid enough to believe that a fifteen-month-old baby can take down a ‘Dark Lord’, doesn’t make Harry any different than Justin.”

“He survived the Killing Curse,” Fudge yelled, standing and getting in Mr. Finch-Fletchley’s face.

“How do you know that? Were you there? No? Then shut up and sit down. We’re tired of your stupidity,” Justin’s dad said, pushing the man away from him, making him sit back in his chair, which almost tittered over.

“How dare you!” Umbridge yelled, she too standing and almost made for her wand.

Dumbledore quickly silenced her and froze her mid-step, causing her to crash face first into the stone floor. “Please, everyone, settle down,” he pleaded, guiding the frozen witch back to her chair, fixing her broken nose and releasing her with a withering gaze. She huffed and sat. “There is no need for all this fighting.”

“You are correct, the placement of Mr. Potter is not up for debate. It has already been decided. The only reason we are here is to hand over the papers,” Major said, getting out of his chair, and rounding the desk. Albright followed. “So, unless you feel like taking on our army, you will back down and accept that.” He then waved Justin, Harry and Mr. Finch-Fletchley to follow him.

They did.

Fudge started yelling at Dumbledore, and Umbridge shrieked at anything.

“Those are some very unpleasant people,” Albright said as they exited the castle.

“Yes, and they are the ones in charge. I don’t hold out much hope for this world,” Major agreed.

“Sir,” Harry said tentatively, “how can you and Ms. Albright see the castle? I mean, Hermione told me that nonmagicals can’t. So, I was just wondering.” He hung his head shyly but glanced up to see what the man felt about being questioned. He had been told all his life not to question adults.

The two government officials held out their right arm. On the wrist of both was a shiny bracelet, that had funny writing on it. “Your co-conspirators have designed a way for those of us without magic to see magical places. We wanted to make sure that we could get into your new community, so that it doesn’t wind up like this one,” the Prime Minister explained with a welcoming smile.

“Oh,” was all Harry said, thinking hard on that. Did that mean that the Crown was going to interfere with the new town? Was that welcome? Well, he’d leave that up to the adults.

“Mr. Major,” Justin asked, bouncing next to his dad, “can you tell us more about the school?”

“Shhh,” the man said, looking around and seeing Hagrid by his hut. “Not here, and not now. You will learn all you need to know when school ends.”

“Oh, okay, sorry,” the boy mumbled, then started bouncing again. “Hey, Harry, do you realize what this means. We’re going to be brothers,” he said, excitedly.

“Wow, that’s right. I’ve never had a brother. Only my fat pig cousin. What happened to him?” he asked Mr. Finch-Fletchley.

“He’s been taken as a ward of the Crown too. He too was abused, just in a much different manner than you. He has no boundaries. He needs to learn discipline and adapt to living where he doesn’t get his way. I think Her Majesty put him in a military academy,” he answered, tapping his chin in thought, as though trying to remember.  

“That’s right,” Ms. Albright said, nodding her head. “He’s doing well there now. It was a rough start, but now he is a good student.”

“Oh, good, I guess,” Harry said with a short nod. He never thought that how his aunt had treated his cousin was wrong. He thought all other children, not him, were treated that way.

“Okay, Harry, Justin, be ready. We’ll see you in a week,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, hugging his son, then surprisingly Harry.

“Bye,” the two boys said and watched the adults leave the grounds.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Justin said, tugging Harry back to the castle.

Everything was going well, the only hiccup in the rest of the year was the disappearance of Quirrell. No one knows what happened to him, but rumor had it that the man got eaten by a three-headed dog. How that happened, only a few guessed.

Slytherin won the House Cup, and Harry heard from the upper years that they had won ever since Snape started working there, all but once. To Harry that meant that the man was cheating, and it seemed that the headmaster was okay with that.

Hmmm.

Soon enough, they were all on the train. Many people were confused with the heartfelt good-byes that were happening. They were only going to be separated for the summer, right?

Right?

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Rewrite 9/30/24: Added a few paragraphs, but not much else. Correct some minor errors.

Chapter Text

Okay, so a reviewer informed me that there isn’t such a thing as a Ward of the Crown. Oops. However, I am going to keep it and say that it’s a different universe, where the Queen holds more power. Sorry if I offended anyone.

Then I got another review that told me that there was such a thing in Canada, so… I’m so confused, my poor American soul.

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Harry was having the time of his life. Justin’s house, now his too, was huge. It had three separate wings, one for the boys, one for the parents, and then the common area. They didn’t have live-in servants, but there were many people wandering around and working there, so Harry figured they just came on the weekdays. Justin had said that when he was younger, he had a nanny, but she was let go when he got his Hogwarts letter. She would have retired anyway if he had gone to Eton. So, it wasn’t like it was a new thing that she was gone. It was just time for her to go.

The Finch-Fletchley family was very rich and there were acres upon acres of land surrounding the house. If the boys went to the far end of the property around the house, they could fly. It was great. One of the groundskeepers, that Justin’s dad hired a few weeks ago, was a wizard, and he kept his eye on them. Giving them pointers, and such. The two boys spent loads of time just tossing a ball around from their brooms.  They both wanted to do sports, though only Harry wanted to be on the Quidditch team.

When they weren’t doing that, they were going over nonmagical schoolwork, just to get to where they would have been, had they not attended Hogwarts. It was hard going, and Justin’s dad, Patrick, had hired tutors. The tutor, Leeann Pinkens, said it was a good thing they only missed one year. Had they missed more than they would have been hard pressed to catch up.

A week into summer Mr. Finch-Fletchley had taken Harry to Gringotts. It was an eye-opening experience. Harry was just as rich, if not richer than his new family. That and he was related to some powerful wizards on both sides of his family. He had known a bit of that from the family tree that he had done, but he and the goblins really hadn’t had time to go into it. Nothing major, like the Founders of Hogwarts, though he was very distantly related to Godric Gryffindor, or Merlin, or any of that. However, there was a lot to be said about the Perevells, and a few others. His mum’s relationship with the former Minister of Magic was nothing to sneeze at.

That and a lot of people had bequeathed him money in their wills. Something about him being the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry didn’t know how he felt about that. He hoped that he hadn’t shafted the true heirs of the vaults, and had the goblins look into it.

He found out that there was a mail misdirect ward on him and his old house. It was redirected to Gringotts. They would sort it and hand it all to Mr. Finch-Fletchley, who would go over it with Harry. It was explained to him that it was to keep him safe, and that he should no longer concern himself about it, the goblins and Justin’s dad would take care of it.

The vaults were emptied of everything, with a promise that he would utilize the new bank. Which would be open in a few weeks. They were still digging tunnels and living quarters. Right now, all his money, books and heirlooms were hidden in a trunk that was massive on the inside. It was in a bank vault, under Mr. Finch-Fletchley’s name.

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The next morning, after Gringotts, Patrick took Harry to the new hospital, St. Bridget’s.

“Why do I have to come here?” Harry asked, looking around at the sparkling building, that seemed to be made of steel and reflective glass.

“I know that your relatives didn’t treat you right and that you never got examined at Hogwarts. So, we’re here to make sure everything is okay. You need all your immunizations, both magical and non. Don’t worry, Harry, they know what they’re doing,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, guiding the worried boy up to the welcome counter.

They checked in and waited about five minutes before they were called in. Harry was nervous the entire time. He’d never seen a doctor before and didn’t know what to expect. He’d heard horror stories from Dudley but was taking them with a grain of salt.

Healer Sprite had Harry climb on to the exam table. First, she waved her wand, then looked over the ghostly image that showed up next to the now fascinated boy. There were different colors showing all over his spectral form. It lit up like a rainbow, showing the multitude of ailments that had happened to him over the years of his short life. Though it seemed most of them had healed themselves.

“Well, Harry, it appears that you have only a few minor issues. Most can be anticipated from a young boy. I see there was some mild starvation, and some bumps and bruises. From what I was told of you relatives, I was expecting that. All except, I hate to say, your scar,” she said with a furrowing of her forehead as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “Has your scar ever given you pain?” she asked, making notes in his chart.

“Ummm, yeah, a few times,” he said, scrunching up his brow. “Mostly when I was in DADA class, last year.” He remembered the times it pained him during that class and a few times in the Great Hall.

“Did you ever go to the Hospital Wing to get it checked out?” she inquired, making more notes.

“No, I’m not a baby. I can handle a bit of pain. Besides, it always went away quick enough,” he denied with a shrug.

“Okay, Harry, I have to get someone to confer with. Wait here a moment, okay?” she said distractedly as she hurried out of the room.

“What do you think it is?” Harry asked Patrick, staring at the mass of dark grey coloring on the image’s forehead.

“I wouldn’t even begin to know how to answer that,” the man said, he too gazing that the image.

“Oh, right, sorry,” the boy mumbled, rubbing his scar. It was eerie looking at the ugly image. It was starting to scare him. It was just sitting there glaring at him and it was in his forehead.

Five minutes later a man came in with Healer Sprite. He looked at the image and narrowed his eyes at what he was seeing. “Shite,” he said under his breath, and ran out of the room.

That didn’t help Harry’s nerves, nor Patrick’s.

Healer Sprite busied herself with needles and potions, calmly telling the wary boy what they were and why he needed them. Mostly immunizations, boosters, nutrition potions, and such. They went through the exam, and then waited until the other man, who Sprite told them was named Healer Grant, came back.

When Healer Grant reappeared, he had a goblin and two other men with him. “Harry, I’m going to put you to sleep for a moment. When you wake up, your scar will be healed,” the healer told the now scared boy. He looked to Mr. Finch-Fletchley, who nodded back, but mouthed, ‘tell me later’. Grant nodded back, then looked at Harry.

“Okay,” the preteen stuttered out, laying on the table, trying to be brave. He didn’t want the grey mass in his forehead. He wanted it gone, so he was just going to let them do what they must.

“I’ll be right here, Harry,” Patrick said, holding his hand.

Harry smiled and then was stunned. He woke up about twenty minutes later and felt loads better. He never knew he had a low-grade headache all the time, until he realized his head was clearer and didn’t have that mild ache.

He sat up, stretched a bit, and asked, “What was it? I feel much better.”

“I talked it over with your guardian here, and we decided the best course of action was to say that it was something Voldemort did when he tried to kill you. It’s gone now, and you won’t get a headache in that area again. Well, not unless you bump your head,” Grant said, with a chuckle.

“Okay,” Harry drawled, not sure if he wanted to know more.

“It’s fine, Harry,” Patrick said, lifting him off the table. “Let’s go pick up Justin and get some ice cream.” He then turned to the Healers. “We’re good to go?”

“Yes. Make sure you stop by the front desk and schedule an appointment for Christmas break. I want to make sure that he’s growing normally,” Healer Sprite said, handing a piece of paper to Patrick.

The man nodded and the two left. One feeling better than he ever had. The other, worried about what they found, and how that would affect Harry in the future. Soon they met up with Justin and had their ice cream, both putting the day to the back of their minds.

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One morning late July, Harry woke up from a nightmare. He went to breakfast, and asked Justin’s dad, “Mr. Finch-Fletchley, what will happen when the purebloods find out we’ve left. I mean, are they going to attack?” He was genuinely concerned about this. He knew from what Hermione made him study that they had attacked nonmagicals in the past.

“Harry, I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Patrick,” the man said with a sigh. Then answered the question. “We’ve thought about that, and while I feel you’re too young to know, I will relieve your worries,” he said, putting his fork on his plate. “The ‘muggleborn’ have created a book that will tell them were magicals live. Those of us in the know, are protected. We have wards, and… portkeys, I think their called. The ones not in the know are being approached with the information they need to have. They will also be offered wards and portkeys.”

“That’s good,” Harry said with a relieved sigh. He didn’t know why he fretted so much; it was just ingrained in him to think about these things.

“What’s a portkey?” Justin asked, taking a sip of his orange juice.

“Let me see if I can explain it,” his dad answered, wrinkling his brow. “It’s a magical traveling device, that takes you from one place to another. I think, it’s via a wormhole, but it got quite confusing when they explained it.” Not that he was stupid by any means, it was all explained using magic terms. They tried to science it up for him, but it just didn’t interpret right.

“Oh, so if you see the bad people you can get away?” Harry asked excitedly. That relieved much of his worry.

“Yes,” was the brief answer. “But,” he expounded, “we have a panic room here. So, first sign of trouble, you go there. Then if we have too, we’ll port out. You know where it is, Harry. I showed you the day you got here,” he added, looking at both boys with a stern look.

“Yes, sir,” the two boys said, sharing a look and then continued eating.

“Hey, Dad, what about Neville and the Weasleys?” Justin inquired, glancing at Harry.

Harry frowned; he was worried that he had not heard from those guys. He thought for sure that Neville and the twins would write him. He heard from all his friends here in this world, via post and phone, but none from the wizarding. It had only been a few weeks, and they might be busy, but he was sure that something else was going on. Even when he sent Hedwig, she came back with no letters.

“As it stands right now, they will be invited to join the new school. Everyone will be sent a brochure to explain about it. There will be a screening test, so many might stay at Hogwarts, because they lack the nonmagical education to get into Dags,” Patrick explained. Dags being the nickname the kids came up with, complaining that the real name was just too long to say.

“If they pass the test, how much is it going to cost?” Harry wondered. He knew the Weasleys were short on money.

“Nothing,” Patrick answered, “It’s a government funded school. The taxes from the town will pay for it. The families will be responsible for books and equipment, but they can all be had for a good price. We will also give out names of tutors, but we’re sure that a great deal of the upper years will stay at Hogwarts,” he finished, wiping the corner of his lip with his napkin.

“Is there a name for the town?” Harry asked, perking up a bit.

“There’s a lottery being held. People can submit a name, and the mayor will pick one. Sorry, boys, adults only,” he explained with a grin.

“Oh, well that sucks,” Justin said, slouching in his chair.

“Don’t slouch,” said his mother, Patrice, as she walked in.

“Yes, Mum,” the boy grumbled and sat straighter.

Harry giggled. Justin’s mum was always on them about good manners. His dad didn’t care as much.

“Hello, dear,” Patrick said, leaning his head to the side a bit, so she could kiss his cheek. Which, of course, was returned in kind. “You’re running late this morning,” he said.

“Business call. Those people can’t do anything without my input,” she groused, sitting next to her husband and serving up some breakfast. Just a few scrambled eggs and toast, coffee as well. She was in a hurry.

Patrick sighed; he knew the feeling well. “I have to get going,” he said, folding his napkin, and standing. “You boys behave for Leeann. She’s going to be here in a half an hour for your studies. If I hear one word about you skiving off, I will take your brooms away,” he threatened cheerfully. He never liked the thought of brooms anyway. It took ten years off his life watching Harry fly. Still, he spoiled the boys, especially Harry. Not a lot, but enough that the child was blossoming.

“Yes, sir,” they both said, also getting up from the table, and scrambling out of the room to get ready for the tutoring session.

“They’re good boys, dear. Try not to be too hard on them,” Patrice said between bites.

“I know,” he said with a smile. “But they are boys,” he finished, giving her another kiss on the cheek then leaving for work.

“Men,” she said with a small smirk, then quickly finished her breakfast and left.

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A week went by and still no word from his wizarding friends. It was Harry’s birthday, and the celebration was great. All his ‘muggleborn’ friends were there. He got loads of presents, and the cake was the biggest he had ever seen. Everyone went home, happy, stomachs full, and buzzing from sugar overload.

Harry entered his room, his arms full of gifts. He stopped in his doorway, and just stared at the small raggedy creature that was staring at him with huge luminous eyes. Harry swallowed his scream, and as calmly as he could, he walked to his bed to put down his burden.

“Hello,” he said, turning to the creature. “What are you doing in my room?” he asked, kneeling so he was eye to eye with the being.

“Harry Potter says hello to Dobby. Like Dobby is a friend. Long has Dobby wanted to meet Harry Potter,” the little being wailed, making enough noise to make Justin come running into Harry’s room to investigate.

“It’s okay… Dobby. Please, don’t cry. What are you anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?” Harry said, putting his hand on Dobby’s tiny shoulder.

Dobby startled at the touch and then wailed again about Harry’s kindness.

“What the hell?” Justin said, skidding to a halt just inside the door. “Who’s this?”

“This is Dobby. I’m not sure what he is, but he’s a bit emotional,” Harry said, keeping his hand on Dobby’s shoulder.

“Dobby is a house elf, good sirs,” the house elf stated. “Dobby is here to warn Harry Potter, that he must not return to Hogwarts,” the tiny being said, ducking away from Harry and standing between the two boys.

“Ummm, okay. I wasn’t planning on it anyway,” Harry said, very confused. He wondered why the house elf was warning him and if he should tell anyone.

“I… wha… Dobby is confused. He was thinking that Harry Potter would fight Dobby,” the poor elf stated, pulling his ears and looking between the two boys.

“Don’t worry, Dobby, I won’t go back to Hogwarts. I have somewhere else to go,” the messy-headed boy said, hoping to reassure the elf.

“Dobby is greatly ashamed,” Dobby said, and started to cry and wail about what a terrible elf he was.

“Why?” Harry asked gently, cutting glances to the equally dumbfounded Justin.

“Dobby has been taking Harry Potter’s letters all summer. I was hoping that if Harry Potter thought he had no friends, then Harry Potter would not return to Hogwarts. Now, Dobby is mortified that he needn’t have done such a thing,” the elf said, and started slamming his head to the ground. “Bad Dobby,” he kept saying over and over.

“Dobby, Dobby, stop,” Harry tried to get ahold on the elf. When that failed, he loudly asked, hoping to distract the elf, “Dobby, can I have my letters?” He wasn’t sure how to take this. On one hand, the elf was trying to help. On the other hand, the elf stole from him.

Dobby stopped banging his head, hiccupped and wiped his eyes. He reached his tiny thin hand into his disgusting pillowcase and handed the bundle of letter and gifts to Harry. “Dobby is being very sorry, Harry Potter.” And with that he popped away.

“I’m not sure if I should be scared, or very worried over that elf. He looks like he is been treated badly. Do you know anything about house elves?” Harry asked Justin as he sorted his letters.

There were letters from all his wizarding friends. Those that he thought hadn’t written to him. He felt bad now for thinking badly of them. He wondered if they gotten his post from Hedwig, or had Dobby stolen those too. Then he saw his letters among his friends’ and that answered his question.

“No, we can ask Dad in the morning,” Justin said, sitting on a chair by the bed.

“I’ll call Hermione in the morning as well. She’s done tons of research, she might know,” Harry said. “I’m knackered, the party took a lot out of me. I’ll read and reply to these tomorrow.”

With a great yawn, the other boy agreed and left the room.

The next day there were phone calls, and meetings. Even if Harry wasn’t returning to Hogwarts, others would be. If the elf came to warn Harry that meant there was danger coming to the old school. So, the adults told the Minister of Magic that they had received the threat. The man huffed, and puffed, but in the end said he’d tell Dumbledore.

Hermione didn’t know what house elves were but promised to look it up.

Harry replied to all the letters and explained what had happened. They replied stating how worried they had been. Both sides apologized for thinking badly about the other. It was an ongoing back and forth thing for a few letters, until it just stopped, and all was right between the boys.

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It was getting to the middle of August, and letters were being sent to Hogwarts for the withdrawal of many of its students. The test had been given the week before, and a great many of the younger years passed, even Neville.

Ron and his sister, Ginny, also passed, barely, since they were homeschooled by their mum. They would have to have some remedial classes, in things like history and math, but it wasn’t too bad. The twins, however, didn’t make the cut. They said, they’d study this year, and hopefully they could join Dags the next year. Percy didn’t even bother. He was too close to his goal to mess it up with a newfangled school.

When the wizards’ ministry heard about the mass exodus, the Minister and his toad stormed Downing Street. Harry heard from Patrick that it was quite a show. Mr. Finch-Fletchley had been there with many other parents and ‘muggleborn’. They had informed the minister that the kids were still within contract, because the new school was accredited by the ICW. The two left in a huff, promising that there would be retribution.

That night the wards flared around the Finch-Fletchley home. Everyone woke up to the nonmagical alarm that went off just after the wards. Patrick had Patrice take the kids to the panic room, while he called the new town’s police. He had his gun, from his time in the Queen’s Army, handy and waiting.

About twenty minutes later some men in dark cloaks and masks finally got through the wards. Patrick warned them not to come any closer or he would shoot. They lifted their wands and he fired, taking out the one in the middle, then ducking the spells coming his way. The man he shot fell to the ground screaming in pain, making his comrades look at him bewildered. Patrick fired again, while they weren’t paying attention, and took down two more. He was aiming to maim for now, but if they came any closer, he was going for the kill.

It was at this time the magical police showed up and started firing guns and spells at the rest. That’s when those that weren’t hurt disappeared. The police rounded up the injured, cuffing them and portkeying them to a holding cell. They’d get medical treatment there.

Patrick sighed in relief and put his gun on the ground when the cops told him too.

It was a very scary time for the boys and Patrice. They couldn’t hear anything in the panic room, but there was a camera that showed them all what was going on. Justin and Harry cheered when Patrick shot the bad guy. Patrice just fretted. When it was all over the family reunited, the wards were reset, and the alarm system company was called. They all went to bed in the parents’ room, not wanting to be alone.

They learned the next day that this scene played out all over the UK. That’s why it took so long for the police to show. Harry, worried for his friends, started calling everyone. No one had been hurt, many had ported away to Dags when the wards first warned them that someone was breaking in.

That was a relief, but what about next time?

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Rewrite 9/30/24: Added a few paragraphs and fixed a few errors. Deleted a few author’s notes.

Chapter Text

Thanks for all the suggestions for the town’s name. It was a tough call, and I changed my mind many times. I finally decided on the combination of many suggestions.

Also, I know, and you know, that Hogwarts doesn’t require tuition, but… anyway, in this story they do. Fanfiction and all that.

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At lunch the next day, Justin had a question. He’d been thinking about it all day, and now he wanted an answer. “Hey, Dad, I know why you have a gun, what with you being in the army and all, but I thought the cops couldn’t carry?” he asked, fidgeting with his fork.

“Oh, well, you see they are the new magical police, and since wizards always carry deadly weapons, wands I mean, they were given permission to do the same. Not all the cops are wizards, some are what they call squibs. Meaning, they can’t do magic,” Patrick explained as best he could. “So, it was decided by the PM and the Queen that they be ready for action. They do have orders to shoot to maim, and they have a magical on all teams for shields.”

It had been a tough call on that one since it went against the law of the land. However, they couldn’t in good conscience let their police go unarmed against Death Eaters. There was an internal debate on allowing muggle cops to do the same, but it wasn’t the same principle.

“And it’s a good thing too,” Patrice added, still upset about the night before. “I heard that those… men were throwing around deadly spells.” She had been on the phone all morning, trying to make sure that everyone was alright. There had been no deaths, thank God, but there were a lot of scared people. The police had responded with diligence.

“Why did they attack? I know Harry had a feeling they would, but since we are leaving them, like they want, I might add, why attack?” Justin asked, looking between his parents with a lost and confused look.

“From what I’ve gathered, they are more upset that we are taking money from Hogwarts. You see, it was a tuition school. And most of that tuition came from ‘muggleborns’. We didn’t find out, until we decided to secede, that we were paying higher than the purebloods. It was quite a slap in the face,” Patrick said, trying to control his temper so he didn’t snap at his family. He might be rich, but he hated being swindled and that was exactly what that was.

“That sucks,” Harry said, thinking hard on what he learned. “First, they hide our money, then they rip us off, then they throw us out. All nice and legal like, to them. Bastards.” He folded his arms and slumped back. Though, now that he thought about it, that might not be the case with him. His pureblood dad paid his tuition when he was born. He might have gotten a fairer deal than the Finch-Fletchleys.  

“Language, Harry, but I agree,” Patrice said, putting her napkin down and standing from the table. “You boys go flying, I’m going to talk to your father.”

“Yay,” Harry said, leaping from his seat and all but flying up the stairs. Justin followed at a more sedate pace. They didn’t like all this heavy talk anyway. It was much better to be up in the air and feeling the wind on their faces.

“Make sure Mike is with you!” she called after them, wanting the only wizard on the payroll to supervise.

“Okay, Mum!” Justin yelled back.

The Finch-Fletchley adults went to the sun lounge and sat on the sofa together. They cuddled a bit and soon Patrice asked, “Feeling better?”

“No, not really. I’m still quite miffed,” her husband answered with a heavy sigh. There was just too much to think about.

“It’ll work out,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I truly hope so,” Patrick said, kissing the top of her head. They could only take it one day at a time and plan for what came up as well as they could.

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Three days before Dags started, someone rang the doorbell. One of the servants answered, and asked, “Yes, may I help you?” to the old man with the ridiculous beard and clothes. She had been warned that someone like this might come calling. She had orders to direct them to Mr. Finch-Fletchley. In no way were the boys to be left alone with any wizard that came calling.

“Yes, I am here to speak to young Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Mr. Potter is out right now,” she lied smoothly. “I can ask if Mr. Finch-Fletchley can see you.” She opened the door and allowed him into the front entrance.

The old man chuckled, stopping in the middle of the entryway. “Come now, it is not nice to lie. I know Harry is here, I need to speak to him,” Albus Dumbledore said, shouldering his way to the living room.  He was set on seeing where the boy was.

The woman growled and went to the intercom and immediately spoke into it, “Mr. Finch-Fletchley, there is a man here asking to see Mr. Potter. He is being pushy about it and is attempting to wander the house.”

“Tell him I will be right down,” came the staticky answer a few moments later.

“Follow me,” she said, primly, very vexed that the man seemed to have read her mind and bullied his way in, like he was important or something.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said, letting her lead him to a receiving parlor.

She sniffed, pointed him to a chair and left the room. She had no use for rude guest.

Dumbledore looked around and was rather impressed with the grandeur of the room. He sat in a chair and politely waited to be received.

About five minutes later, Patrick entered the room. “What do you want, Dumbledore?” he snapped, sitting on a chair near the door. He wanted to be able to escape if he had to.

“I have come to tell you that Mr. Potter must attend Hogwarts. If he is not there, then many parents will withdraw their children. It could see to the closing of the school,” Albus said, running his hand down is beard in a knowledgeable way.

“That school has been running for a thousand years without Harry there. Try pulling the other one, it’s got bells on it,” Patrick refuted.

“You truly don’t seem to understand, many students have withdrawn from Hogwarts. If Harry is not there to bring them back, the school will close,” Dumbledore said more firmly.

“Then you should have done something about that cesspool you call a school. Bullying by teachers and students alike. Poorly taught subject matters. Prejudice runs rampant in the halls. Bias teachers, and faculty. A troll running around, the mysterious loss of a teacher. I even heard there was a three-headed dog locked in a room that most first-years could get into,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley stated, listing things on his fingers.

“I do admit that there are some issues,” the old man said, narrowing his eyes a bit. “However, no one was hurt, and children will be children.” He avoided the main issues that pertained to his faculty.

“That attitude, right there, is why my boys will be going elsewhere. I don’t…” Patrick started only to be interrupted by Harry and Justin running into the room.

“Dad, can we…?” Justin stopped when he saw his old headmaster. “What do you want?” he demanded, fist on hips. He stood in front of Harry defensively.

“Harry, my boy,” the old man said, ignoring Justin. “I’ve come to talk to you about returning to Hogwarts.”

“Umm, no,” the confused boy stated, looking to Mr. Finch-Fletchley who nodded to him. He waved the boys to stand behind him, they complied.

“Why ever not? Your parents would want you there,” Albus tried to coax, peering around the adult, trying to look Harry in the eye. His face was the visage of disappointed grandfather.

“Umm, I’m pretty sure that was because there was no alternative,” Harry disagreed, keeping his eyes firmly on the man’s beard.

“Come now, you must have enjoyed your time there?” was the second attempt.

“Ah, no, not really. I mean, I made friends and such, but most of them will be going to D... the new school,” he said, not sure if he should mention the school’s name.

“You have your answer, Dumbledore. Quit harassing my son,” Patrick said, putting his hand in his jacket.

Harry and Justin backed to the doorway. They knew what came next and were told what to do if that happened.

Dumbledore scowled. He reached for his wand, and Patrick pulled his gun.

“Get out,” the younger man snarled. “Get out, and don’t come back. You no longer have any authority over the boys. Leave.” He aimed at the man’s hands; finger ready to fire if the arsehole even twitched in the boys’ direction.

Albus, while knowing what a gun was, didn’t really know how they worked. He lifted his wand, to do who knows what, when Harry shouted, “No!” and the wand went flying to his hand.  

Patrick fired the gun but missed because Harry’s accidental magic knocked the man backwards, causing him to stumble a bit. The bullet lodged in the wall, making it splinter a bit. Everyone in the household came running into the room to see what was going on. The boys were hustled behind the adults, and much shouting was happening.

“Do I need to call the cops?” Patrice asked, moving towards the phone.

“No, Dumbledore was just leaving,” Patrick assured her, keeping his gun aimed.

Dumbledore was in complete shock. His wand was gone. He needed that wand for when Voldemort return. He stared at Harry, who was looking at the Elder Wand with fascination. The last place the wand should be was in the hands of Harry Potter.

“Harry, my boy, could you return my wand?” he asked as gently as his fraught nerves would allow. 

“Umm, sure,” Harry said, not wanting to be labeled a thief. He edged to where he could see the man, and tried to throw the wand to him, since he didn’t want to get close. The wand, however, simply dropped back into his hand. “Looks like I can’t,” the boy said, holding the wand in front of him.

“Dammit,” Albus muttered under his breath. He looked at all the people glaring at him and came to the decision that it would be best to leave. “Fawkes!” he yelled. A ball of fire appeared, and quickly formed into a bird. That bird landed on the headmaster’s shoulder, and the two disappeared in a column of flame.

“That must be how he got past the wards,” Patrick grumbled, stowing his gun.  “Okay, everyone, party’s over. Let’s go about our business,” he said with his jaw clinched. “Thank you for trying to help,” he added politely.

The servants and Patrice left, Patrice to call the police and file a complaint. Not that she thought it would do any good, but it might.

“Dad, will he be back?” Justin asked, fearfully. If the old headmaster could ‘flame’ in anywhere, would Harry be safe?

“I’ll call the goblins to see if they can block him,” Patrick tried to reassure the boys. “Harry, go put that wand away. Hide it good,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” was all the boy said, before running up the stairs.

“It’ll be okay, Justin. I’ll figure it out. Until then you boys be careful and if you see that fire, run,” he told his son.

“Okay, Dad, we will,” Justin said, looking around the room like Dumbledore would be there any second, causing his dad to swear again. The boy nodded to his dad and went to find Harry.

“Fuck,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, running a hand down his face. If he had known about that bloody bird, he’d have done something sooner. Oh well, time to fix it. He went and called the goblins.

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The next day, Dumbledore hadn’t returned, but it was a tense night. They all shared a room, just to be safe. The goblins had showed up the night before, and put phoenix wards up. Of course, they had them, they had told Patrick, it was a security leak they figured out ages ago. It cost the Finch-Fletchleys a bit, but to keep the boys safe, it was money well spent.

These wards were added to the town as well.

Today was orientation, all the students and parents were gathered in a large room, that had been expanded for the day. They were all milling around, talking, waiting for the Headmistress to start.

Madam Julia Fitzpatrick was an older woman, around seventy-five. She was stout and had a calm disposition, though she could be firm if riled. Her brown-grey hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she wore a grey woman’s business suit with comfortable loafers. Reading glasses hung around her neck, and her wand was on her left arm in a holster.

Seeing that everyone was there, and hadn’t it been a logistical nightmare to portkey everyone in, she stood and went to the stage.

“Attention,” she called to the mic. “May I have everyone’s attention please?”

The noise quieted, and people turned to her.

“Welcome to The Dagworth-Granger Fine Institute of Learning and Magic,” she said, smiling at all the happy faces. “As you have noticed there are many children, from ages five to seventeen,” she continued. “This school will host both primary and secondary classes. The primary students will learn normal curriculum, as well as one weekly class on magical theory. Secondary students will learn normal studies the first half of the year and magic the second. All classes for secondary students will be time dilated. Not by much, only twice the time. That way you can finish your schooling in the time allotted.  Classes for both schools will be slightly accelerated. You will be learning at a faster rate, even remedial classes. This is so that you can take your place in Higher Education, should you choose, or start making yourself a productive member of society when you leave these hallowed halls.”

There was a lot of murmuring, those like Augusta Longbottom, and Molly and Arthur Weasley, weren’t sure what she was talking about. The only reason they decided to let their children/grandchild attend was because it was free.

The Longbottoms had been well to do before Neville’s parents wound up in long term care. Now, after so many years of hospital bills, they were not quite as well off. Tuition for Hogwarts had been a burden on Augusta. She was relieved that Neville would now be here, though she was somewhat doubtful that it was better than Hogwarts. That was okay with her, she still felt her grandchild was weak, so a subpar education wouldn’t matter.

The Weasleys had never been rolling in money. So, they were more than happy to let their two youngest come here. Dumbledore had tried to change their minds, but Arthur put his foot down. He wanted his children to know more about the muggle world, and this was the best way they could. Molly, secretly, found that it was a way to get her little girl closer to the boy she was crushing on.

“The town below us is, Gobhan Caraidean, roughly translates to Goblin Friends. The mayor felt that since this all started with Gringotts, we would honor them by naming our town after them,” she added with pride. “There were many names offered, and they were all well thought out. However, this is a combination over quite a few suggestions, and we’re proud to have it. So, congratulations to those who won the lottery. It was split between three people. Their names will be published in our new town’s paper, Potter’s Herald. Named after Harry Potter, for his contribution to the forming of this new municipality,” she smiled at the boy.

Harry ducked his head. He knew that it was his suggestion about the paper, but it was Hermione who started all this. Little did he know, the goblins had told the Mayor, PM and Queen that it had been Harry’s kindness that day that had made them a bit more amendable to the other children.

“The town and the school are under what is known as a folded space, in theory. It is more like an illusion. What it does is take the edges of the town, bring them together above us, so that satellites will only see the valley we reside in. Since this is an illusion, we still see the sky as normal,” the headmistress explained.

That caused a murmur among the guests. It was something no one had ever heard of. It made those that grew up in the wizarding world wonder just how far the muggleborn had come without them.

“The only way in or out of Gobhan Caraidean is by portkey,” continued Madam Fitzgerald, when the noise died down, “at this time. We are working on setting up different forms of secure transportation, but they are not ready yet. The school will always be portkey only, bar walking through the front door, which is warded six ways to Sunday,” she explained, looking at some of the adults. “All parents will be given a portkey. These are only to be used in cases of an emergency.

“Students will be ported in every day at 6 a.m. for secondary, and 7 a.m. for primary. The portkey will take them to their bedrooms at their homes. Children are allowed to use basic magic in their homes, but not outside them. If you get a notice from the other Ministry, which you should not as those alerts have been taken down, come to us and we will handle it.

“Phones and electricity do work here. It is a lie that they didn’t. That will be discussed in Social Science class. For those parents that want to know more, a pamphlet has been drawn up to explain it to you.

“Now, I would like all primary students to go to the left side of the room, and secondary to the right. We will be discussing the coming year and what will be expected of you. The rules will be gone over and handed to you in writing. Everyone, child and parent alike, will sign a statement that they will do their best to follow them,” Fitzgerald said primly. Her hawk like gaze roaming over all the fidgeting children.

That got everyone moving as they split up and stood on the correct side. The noise level was accelerating to great heights.  There were teachers sitting at tables that had numbers above them. The student and parent stood in line for their grade and then talked with the teacher about the rules, which basically boiled down to, no bullying, no stealing, no cheating, and respect the faculty.

A school supply list and schedules were also handed out.

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Harry and Justin got to reconnect with all their friends. After the orientation they headed to Gobhan Caraidean and looked around. It looked like a cross between Diagon Alley and downtown London. They went to each store, bought their school supplies, and other interesting items.

“Wow,” Neville said, looking around, mostly glad to be away from his gran. “This is great. It’s a pity Gran won’t move here. Our house really is too big for the two of us,” he said with a sigh. He hated the family seat. It was just a huge waste of space to him. It was cold, drafty and lonely.

“You know, I think, I’m going to nickname this town GobyCara, it should be shorter like that. I mean, why do adults always have to name things so people get tired when they’re done speaking them?” Dean complained, getting elbowed by Hermione.

“Did you see Hannah Abbot, and Daphne Greengrass? I didn’t think they’d leave Hogwarts. It seems like a lot of people are here,” Harry said, looking to Hermione, like she had the answer.

She did. “I heard that Susan Bones, and a bunch of others, couldn’t come because their parents work at the other Ministry. I know Mr. Weasley quit his job, and was offered work here in town,” she explained, nodding to the bemused Weasleys. Who were looking at everything with awe and confusion. “The Abbots and the Greengrasses were given work opportunities here as well,” she added in an undertone, like it was news she wasn’t supposed to know.

“I wonder when the non-magical Ministry is going to take them over?” Justin said thoughtfully, looking to Dean, who shrugged.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered instead, looking at Patrick, who was talking to the mayor. “I think your dad will know, but I’m not sure if he’ll tell us,” he finished, looking back at the group with some disappointment at being left out of that particular discussion.

“You’re probably right,” Justin said, with a sigh. He too would love to be a fly on that wall.

“Well, we should leave it to the adults anyway,” Hermione said, moving them along to the ice cream shop, that they pilfered from Diagon Alley.

All in all, it was a good day. Everyone went home with a lot on their minds. Soon they would be starting a whole new school in a whole new world.

Harry couldn’t wait.

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Rewrite 10/01/24: Added quite a bit to this one. It was full of holes and mistakes.

Chapter Text

Thanks for the reviews.

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It was the last day before school, and there was still a lot to do. That morning at breakfast, the Finch-Fletchleys asked the boys about their schedule. The two lads ran to get them, so they could see which classes they had together. They came back down and settled at the table.

“Let’s see,” Justin put his schedule next to Harry’s, while Harry started his breakfast again, “we have History, Geography, Art, Social Science, and P.E. together. I am in higher English and Math classes than Harry. Harry’s taking French, and I’m taking German,” he finished, then looked at his day.

Harry pouted a bit, he wanted to be in all the same classes as Justin. He knew that the other boy was smarter than him in a few things. Their tutor had pointed that out. Justin had been down for Eton, after all. So, Harry shrugged it off, with the knowledge that he would still have friends in class.

“What about magical?” Patrice asked, looking to Harry to answer. “Did they give those classes?”

“Yeah, I guess they want us to study up a bit,” Harry said with a shrug. “Anyway, umm, okay, we have Transfiguration, History, Potions, Charms, Flying Games, Runes, DADA, and Herbology together. I have Arithmancy, and Astronomy, while Justin has Magical Theory, and his Astronomy class is right after mine,” he answered, scrunching his face a bit to try and read the paper. “The classes we don’t share, will switch the next term,” he added. “Next year, we can add electives. Like, Enchanting, Healing, Magical Arts, or Divination, but you have to pass a test for that one.” He put his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Hey, there’s Football, Quidditch, and Broom Racing,” Justin exclaimed, pointing to the notes at the bottom of the paper. “Both Junior and Senior teams.”

“Cool, I’d like to try out for Junior Quidditch,” Harry said, bouncing in place. He remembered seeing the game at Hogwarts and thought it was great. He thought about Cedric Diggory and watching him fly was awesome.

“You can have it, I’m going to try out for Football,” Justin said, smiling at his dad in a pleading type way. Puppy dog eyes and all.

“Only if your grades are good,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley said sternly. He was going to remain firm on that one.

“They will be,” both boys answered. For this, they’d make sure of it.

“Hey, Dad, will there be goblins at the school? I didn’t see any yesterday,” the blond boy asked.

“We tried to invite them, and they were really happy that we did, but they have a completely different type of magic than you boys, so they declined, politely,” Patrick answered, with a chuckle. “They have their own school, in the underground city, below the town,” he added.

That had been a sight to see too. It was something only a few humans got a look at, and Patrick was one of them. He was one of the honored among the goblins. It was amazing to see the tunnels that went on for miles, and the crystal lights that were dotted everywhere. The artificial sun they used was a wonderous use of magic. He thought they were creatures of the dark, but no, they thrived in the light and had their own subculture underground.

“Oh, that’s cool. I wonder if they’ll let us see their city. That’s got to be wicked,” Justin said with wide eyes, fascinating on how an underground city would look. Would it have a fake sun? Would there be crystals for lights? All sorts of things ran through his brain. He unknowingly thought of things they did use.

Harry nodded his head, wondering much the same thing. Then he was struck with a thought. “Will Dags let others in, like werewolves, half-giants, and such?” he asked, really wanting to know. He will miss Hagrid, and maybe there were others like him.

“Hopefully, since it is a day school, we can talk a few in next year,” Patrice answered, cutting a gaze to her husband. It was still up for debate with the PTA.

The school had decided that a Board of Governors was out of the question. So, set up a Parent Teacher Association. Dags being a day school meant that werewolves didn’t pose a threat to the children. It was just a matter of finding them and testing them. For all they knew, since the wizarding laws were so biased, those poor children had no schooling. Half-giants were rare, but they were searching to see if there were any. Other magical races, like the goblins, had their own educational system. There were talks of exchange programs, but they wanted Dagworth-Granger school to get settled first.

“Harry, we’re going to do some running around today. I want you to dress nice, okay?” Patrick said, wiping his mouth and standing.

“Okay,” Harry said, shoveling the last bit of egg in his mouth, then he too stood and went upstairs. He never questioned Mr. Finch-Fletchley. If the man said to go dress, that’s what Harry did. He trusted the man.

“What about me?” Justin said, feeling a bit left out.

“You’re coming with me,” Patrice said, giving him a reassuring smile.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“We’re going to get you and Harry school clothes. Since there is no uniform, but a dress code, I figured you boys would like new clothes,” she said, coming around the table and guiding Justin away from the room.

“How are we going to pick Harry’s?” he wondered.

“He already told me what he wanted when I asked him last night before he went to bed,” was the reply. The two left before Patrick and Harry, going to the new magical shopping center.

Harry and Patrick arrived in Gobhan Caraidean and started walking off the receiving point. They wandered the town, taking it all in. It was so shiny new, and there was magic everywhere. The windows glowed with it.

The sun was bright in the sky, the air was crisp, and the scent was fresh. The sidewalks and the streets were clean. There were no roads, per se, but there was a lane for flying. Which was packed with brooms. If you had to fly, then you needed to stay on your side, just like a car. There were even wizards on some sort of platform, directing traffic. Patrick said that they were still working on streetlights, but for now this was best. There were bicycles on the lane under the flyers.

There were fairies flitting about in the flowerbeds that lined the sidewalk. There were other bugs that looked magical. A thin sticklike bug was on the trees, eating what looked to be lice. There were glowing bees and flutterbies, which looked like butterflies, but had smaller wings and bigger bodies.

Some of the plants would playfully reach out and snap at ankles, which didn’t hurt, but caused a tickling sensation. They mostly attacked little girls, who would squeal and then giggle as they danced away.

There were crups and kneazles everywhere, and owls filled the sky.

The stores seemed to sell everything; brooms, cauldrons, wands, potions, ingredients, and magical herbs. Then there was the nonmagical stuff; like appliances, bicycles, beauty supplies, though they were mixed with magical, and loads of other things. The furniture store was massive. Not the tallest building, but the widest.

Then of course, there were clothing stores everywhere. Harry thought he saw Patrice and Justin, but they were moving fast, so he wasn’t sure.

Restaurants and pubs were on the corners, and there were coffee and tea shops as well. There was even a stand that sold booster potions. Like mild luck drinks, or pepper-ups and things you might need to get through the day. They were all served like fizzy drinks.

Harry had a hard time taking it all in. He had been here yesterday, but he had paid more attention to his friends than the new town. He looked up in the sky and saw a shimmering dome that covered the whole town. You could still see the sky, but it was tinted green from the illusion. Which in turn, made the town’s color slightly off.

They passed City Hall, and it was the tallest building in the area. Not as tall as London’s skyscrapers, but around ten stories or so. The bank, which just opened today, was the next tallest, and it looked pretty much like the Gringotts in Diagon Alley.

“We’ll go to the bank in a few minutes. First, I want to get your eyes fixed,” Patrick said, leading Harry down the path. It was a stone path, one on each side of the flying lane.

“Fixed?” Harry asked, still looking at everything. “Do you mean new glasses?” he was a bit excited about that.

“No, I mean fixed. The only reason I didn’t take you sooner is because the place wasn’t open yet,” Justin’s dad said, opening the door of an office building. This building specialized in elective medicine. The one they wanted was on the fifth floor. So, they took the flying platform, which was really neat, according to Harry.

It was a simple transparent disk that levitated you through the center of the building to where you needed to go. You just had to say the office number and off it went. It would deposit you right outside the door. Invisible wards kept you on the disk, which was exceptionally smooth in flight. It could only hold two at a time, but they figured anything bigger would be too cumbersome. The disk would then lean against the wall of the office until you needed to return.

There were stairs for those who didn’t want to get lazy, but Patrick thought Harry would enjoy the disk.

It only took fifteen minutes, and Harry was now sans glasses. The treatment was a potion followed by a spell. It was painless and immediate. The poor child was almost crying, he was so happy. He hated glasses, and he thought he would always have to wear them. The doctor said that he might need to come back when he was older, but for now he was going to enjoy the new world this opened up for him. He could see everything.

His beaming smile didn’t diminish when they finally made it to the bank. He nodded to the goblins at the door and read the same poem as they walked in. It seems that all Gringotts’ banks were the same. Some just differed in size.

They stood in line, which was awfully long, then after about ten minutes, they went to the teller.

“Good morning,” the goblin said, smiling down on them. “What can Gringotts do for you today, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, Mr. Potter?”

Harry could tell the goblins were extraordinarily happy to be here. All of them were grinning like they had won the lottery.

“We need to reopen Harry’s account,” Patrick said, patting Harry on the shoulder.

“Hey, I remember you. Your name is… Gaukrogers. You helped me when I was at the other bank with Hagrid,” Harry exclaimed, beaming at the goblin that he remembered.

“Ah, I remember. It was your birthday if I recall,” Gaukrogers stated, standing up a bit to get a good look at the boy. Potter looked much better than he had a year ago. He seemed to have filled out, and he was wearing respectable clothes. “I see you have gotten your eyes fixed,” he observed.

“Yeah, isn’t it great? I love magic,” the child said, bouncing in place.

“Indeed, it is,” the goblin agreed. “Come with me and we’ll see about getting your account reopened,” he said, putting up a closed sign and hopping off his stool.

They went into a conference room and settled at the table. Opening the account was simple enough. Patrick had Harry’s trunk shrunken in his pocket. He pulled it out, handed it over, then signed a bunch of papers.

“We don’t have vaults here,” Gaukrogers stated, giving Harry a white crystal. “The main branch wants us to try something new. So, we have safe deposit boxes, which are expanded to fit whatever is added to them. The only downfall we have noted, so far, is that you cannot roam your box. You get a list of items, and then call the item you need. Some find this a much better invention, while others miss the vaults. This crystal is attuned to your magic. Only you can open your box. However, you still need your guardian to escort you,” he explained, going over the specifics.

“What about checks and debit cards?” Harry wondering remembering asking his first time. he fiddled with the crystal, taking in its smooth side and cooler feel.

“We will have them soon. It is still being processed,” the goblin explained, shuffling papers around and organizing them to be filed. “There are talks of turning the crystal into something that will do the same as a debit card. Credit is still not in the works. And checks will be here soon, not that a boy your age would need such,” he added with a grin and wink.

“Oh. Hey, what happened to the other Gringotts?” the boy wondered, looking at the goblin.

“I’d like to know as well,” Patrick said, leaning forward a bit in anticipation.

“We told the Ministry, that they had broken the treaties, and everyone had one week to get their gold out of the bank,” Gaukrogers smirked, a gleam in his eye. He put the folder to the side and watched the two in front of him to see their reaction.

“And if they don’t?” worried Harry. He didn’t want to think the goblins would rip anyone off.

“Then it was moved here, and they have twenty years to claim it, or it will be donated to charity,” the goblin said with a bit of a sneer. “Probably the squib/wizard orphanage. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth to them?” he said maliciously.

“Oh,” said Harry, not really sure if that was good or bad.

“I’ll bet that didn’t go down well,” Patrick observed, furrowing his brow. Though, he thought it served the bigots right.

“No, indeed it didn’t. The government tried to storm the bank, but we simply closed the doors until they backed off. Then opened them again with our army in the lobby. Everyone who entered had to turn over their wand,” the still smirking goblin said, deep satisfaction showed on his face.

“Good for you,” said Patrick with a smug grin.

“How are they going to get here?” Harry wanted to know.

“They must petition City Hall. They can go through their ministry to do that,” Gaukrogers answered, frowning a bit. “If they can prove ownership, then their gold will be transferred to them. We are not thieves, Mr. Potter.” He wanted to make sure that the boy understood that they were being reasonable. The purebloods were being given every opportunity to get their gold. They just had to jump a few hoops is all.  

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Patrick said, taking the crystal from Harry and pocketing it. “You can have that back when you’re older. We will be supplying you with what you need until you are of age,” he explained, then turned to Gaukrogers. “No one can get into his account without this, right? I don’t want people like Dumbledore trying to steal from him.”

“You are correct, only Mr. Potter can open his box,” the goblin agreed. “Standard wards will make it so he cannot be coerced by magic,” he added. “The Thief’s Downfall was put on the door of the room where the safety deposit boxes are.”

“Good, we’ll be off then. We have one more stop,” Patrick said, getting up and shaking Gaukrogers’ hand. Harry did the same and followed the older man.

“Where are we going?” the boy asked, glancing at the magical toy store and marveling at all the moving and talking toys. It was like nothing he’d ever even imagined. He thought the ones he’d seen on the telly around Christmas time were wonderful, but this was mind-blowing.

“St. Bridget’s,” was the answer.

“Why? Are you sick?” Harry fretted. He could think of no other reason they’d be going to the hospital.

“No, but I’m not going to tell you. It’s a surprise,” he told the now very confused boy.

‘What kind of surprise could be at the hospital?’ Harry thought, scrunching his face up trying to work it out. ‘Nothing good, that I can think of,’ he thought, getting more and more concerned as they got closer to the building.

After they entered the hospital, Patrick whispered to the greeting lady, who nodded and told him a room number. Up the floors they went, this time by elevator. Harry fidgeted and leaned from one foot to the other. He still had no clue as to why they were here.

When they arrived at room 216, Patrick knocked and listened.

A weak voice said, “Yeah?”

Patrick opened the door and guided Harry in. There on the bed was a very sick looking, skinny, bedraggled man. He had dark hair, grey eyes, and a huge smile, which showed his freshly whitened teeth. And he was staring right at Harry.

“Harry,” the man said, trying to sit up, but was too weak.

“I’m sorry, sir, do I know you?” the perplexed boy asked, looking hard at the man to see if he did know him. He edged a bit closer to see him better. He didn’t know who the man was, but he seemed happy to see Harry.

“Oh, no, sorry. I’m Sirius Black. I’m your godfather,” the man answered, as he pushed a button on the bed to lift the head.

“Godfather? I didn’t know I had one,” Harry said, looking to Patrick for an explanation.

“Sit down, Harry,” the man said, pointing to a chair, and taking the one next to it. “Like he said, this is Sirius Black. He was falsely accused of many crimes and put in prison. From what I understand, the prison is not a place anyone should go, be they criminal or not.” He shuddered at the thought of the place that had been described to him. Just the thought of Dementors gave him nightmares.

“Got that right,” grumbled Sirius.

“Anyway, when we closed your vaults at the old Gringotts, the goblins found your parents’ wills in your folder. Those wills had information in them that freed your godfather. It was an uphill battle, and we had to pull a lot of deals to get him released. That’s why we didn’t tell you. We weren’t sure we could pull it off.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder as a way of letting him know he cared.

“Oh,” a thoughtful Harry said. “I guess I understand. I would have like to have been told, but I get you were just trying to protect my feelings.” He smiled at Justin’s dad, and then looked at Sirius. “Are you very sick?” he asked.

“Yes,” was the blunt answer. “I will be here until school lets out for Christmas.” He gave Harry a weak smile and tried to put on a brave face for the boy, but Harry could see the frustration in his eyes.

“I can come visit you, right?”

“I would love that,” Sirius said, perking up at the thought.  “I can tell you stories about your parents. Your dad and I were best friends all through Hogwarts and after. It’s a shame to see that it might close, but from what Patrick here has told me, it might be for the best,” the dazed man said, trying to grasp the spoken word. He still shuddered at the thought that Snivellus was teaching there. Dumbledore must be off his rocker, to let that Death Eater be around students.

“Harry, we have to go,” Patrick said, when Sirius yawned, looking like he was fighting a battle to stay awake. “I will bring you here every Friday, after you’ve done your homework, and you can visit then. Sirius is still recuperating, and needs time to get his head straight,” he explained, standing and nodding to the man on the bed.

“Patrick?” the weak man asked. “Any luck in finding Remus?” There was so much hope in that tone, that it was heartbreaking.

“Not yet,” the other man answered. “We’re still working on it.”

“Pity,” Sirius sighed, lowering the bed again. “Okay, Harry, I’ll see you Friday.”

“Okay, Mr. Black. I hope you get better soon,” Harry said, smiling at his newfound family.

“I will do my best,” the man assured him and then closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

They quietly walked out of the room and ran smackdab into Neville.

“Hey, Neville, are you alright?” Harry asked, grasping the other boy’s arm to keep him from falling.

“Thanks, Harry,” the sandy-blond said, smiling tightly at his friend. “I’m okay,” he added, taking back his arm. There was a distinct sadness about him.

“Neville, where’s your grandmother?” Patrick wanted to know, looking around as if she was just hiding around the corner.

“She’s with my folks,” the timid boy answered. “They were moved here today. The doctors promised Gran that they had new methods that they wanted to try on my parents.”

“What’s wrong…?” Harry started only to stop when Patrick shook his head. “Oh, well, I hope they get better,” he said instead.

“I hope so too,” the despondent boy said, not really holding much hope.

“Don’t worry, Neville, they will get the best help here,” Patrick offered, turning the two boys back the way Neville came from. “Let’s get you back to your grandmother,” he said, waving the timid boy to lead.

Neville sighed; he really didn’t like to stay with his parents long. It was very upsetting to him that they didn’t recognize him at all. Still, he led the way and soon was where they needed to be. Not wanting Harry to see his parents like they were, he gave his good-byes and slipped in the door.

Patrick sighed and then put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, taking him out of the hospital, and then home. Harry regaled Justin and his mum about his adventure of the day. Justin did the same when Harry was finished. The parents just listened in, adding a few things here and there.

Tomorrow, they started school. Harry and Justin were excited and didn’t sleep a wink. Justin snuck into Harry’s room, which wasn’t that hard, and they talked all night long about the difference of the two schools. Justin was ecstatic that all his hard work from before Hogwarts wasn’t going to go to waste. Harry was pleased that he would be able to learn everything. He hoped to one day make a name for himself, besides the Boy-Who-Lived.

And he was determined to do just that.

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Rewrite 10/01/24: Added a bit, not much. Made a few corrections.

Chapter Text

Thanks for the reviews.

I hope this chapter explains a few things that everyone was wondering about.

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The next morning two very excited, but tired, boys ran down the stairs. They hadn’t gotten to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, Justin falling asleep in Harry’s room. It was early still, and they were raring to go. Each were dressed in respectable slacks and polo shirts, both going for black and green today. Hair combed, as much as it could be for Harry, faces washed, teeth brushed, all neat and tidy. They wanted to make a good impression.

They were ready to grab the adults, so they could go back to their room and head to school. Each portkey was allotted to go off at a certain time, and in a certain area. The child’s bedroom. Since it was only ten minutes until Harry’s was set to go, they wanted to make sure they were ready.

“Mum! Dad!” Justin called as he slid into the dining room.

“Don’t yell in the house,” Patrice scolded, though she was smiling. She knew he was just anxious. He had been the same way his first year in primary, and Hogwarts.

“I just wanted you guys to know we’re ready to go,” Justin pouted, standing in the doorway, his arms folded.

Harry nodded and patted Justin on the back. “Yeah, we’re ready. We’ve got all our books packed and stuff,” he said, bouncing in place.

“Okay, Harry’s first, right?” Patrick asked from the mostly empty table. They had only been drinking coffee and reading the paper, waiting for the boys. The children would eat at school, breakfast and lunch, so they had held off on their own. Though it would be much later than usual since they had a meeting this morning.

“Yeah, in… five minutes,” Harry said, glancing at his watch, fretting he’d be late.

“Well, we’d better get going then,” Patrice said smiling, raising from her seat and going to Harry. The boys scrambled up the stairs. Harry went to his room and Justin left for his. They each picked up their expanded backpacks and stood in the square that marked this leaving/arrival area. The portkey around their necks.

Patrick was with Justin, and Patrice with Harry.

Six minutes later the boys were at school. The adults met in the middle of the hall and sighed.

“Do you think we should have told them?” Patrice asked, making her way down the stairs.

“No, we’ll give them an abridged version tonight. No sense in worrying them on their first day of school,” Patrick said, taking up his suit jacket and putting it on.

“Let’s go then,” his wife sighed again, grabbing her purse. He could tell she was not looking forward to today. They had both called into work and were now ready to face the ‘enemy’. They took the car, and drove to London, where they’d meet the rest of their party.

It was a large group of people who entered the Ministry of Magic. It consisted of, the Mayor of Gobhan Caraidean, Nicholas Bradstone, the Deputy Headmaster, John Foresight, the Prime Minister, John Major and his secretary. There were quite a few adult muggleborn bodyguards, carrying guns, and the Finch-Fletchley parents, who were picked to represent the PTA of Dags.

They entered the phonebooth, three at a time, telling the operator that they were there to confront the Wizengamot. Each got a name tag that stated they were there to fight a losing battle. They all scoffed.

They made quite an impression, each dressed for court in suits and tie, or a sharp office dress for Mrs. Finch-Fletchley, and the three officials were carrying briefcases. They made a few heads turn as whispers followed them through the Ministry. The guard that checked wands shook his head when none were present. They just barreled through and went to the elevators.

They stormed to courtroom ten, where they had been ordered to go. Not that they had to follow those orders, but they felt it better to let these people know they had no hold on them. Throwing open the wide double doors, they marched into the middle of the room. They stood there still as statues that would not be moved. The PM in the front and then fanned out by matter of importance.

The Wizengamot was in full session, and everyone was there. They stopped what they were doing and glared at the group that just entered.

Cornelius Fudge was sitting next to Dolores Umbridge. Albus Dumbledore was seated in his throne like chair. And Amelia Bones was next to Fudge. There were a variety of expression on all those faces, from disappointed, to sympathetic, to rage. The myriads of emotions would have been comical if it hadn’t been so important.

Before Dumbledore could open his mouth, Fudge opened his. “We are here to shut down your school, and you will tell us where this new town is. You have stolen students from Hogwarts, as well as gold from our economy. We…” that was as far as he got when the sound of a gunshot filled the air.

‘BANG’ the sound reverberated off the walls making everyone flinch, bar the muggles and muggleborn.

“I’m sorry,” Bradstone said completely insincerely, “you seem to be under the impression that we care what you or this body thinks.” He waved his hand in a circle, and then sneered. “We’re only here to tell you, and everyone in this world to bugger off,” he finished with a satisfied grin, like that was something he wanted to say for a long time.

“Yes,” Major stated with a cough, trying to keep from laughing. He had to stay professional. He represented the Crown. “These people with me and all they represent are under the Crown’s laws. You have no hold on them whatsoever.” He nodded his head to the Mayor and Deputy Headmaster.

The muggleborn bodyguards were spread out behind them, training their guns at the men and women in the stands. If they saw one wand, they had orders to shoot to maim.

“Hem, hem. What do you mean, no hold? They’re wizards, and we rule all wizards,” Umbridge simpered in that little girl voice of hers, making many people cringe.

“No, you don’t,” Major said sternly, giving her a disgusted look. “These people and those they represent are citizens of the United Kingdom. They have agreed to stay separate, yet still follow the basics of our laws. Your International Confederation of Wizards has given them sanction. Mr. Dumbledore knows this,” he nodded his head to the old man, who looked affronted.

“I do not seem to recall any such thing,” the man said, running his hand down his beard in a thoughtful fashion. No one in the group believed him. Though, it looked like the Wizengamot did. Fools.

“Not all the children in your school are muggleborn,” Umbridge stated snidely. Which was indeed true, but pointless.

“They have free will. Your citizens are not prisoners. They can go, or in this case, send their children where they want. You can’t control that, and if you try, I’m sure you will be voted out of office,” Major stated, looking down his nose at the hideous visage before him. 

“Be that as it may, we are the ruling body of all wizards in Britain. You will…” another gunshot went off, causing Fudge to fall back in his chair. Damn thing seemed to go off every time he gave an order.

“You threw us away,” Foresight said, a sneer on his face. “You took us in, educated us with subpar schooling, for a large sum of money I might add, and then denied us work. We had to go back to the nonmagical world with no education, no money, and no skills. Then you have the audacity to hide our heritage from us.” Scorn dripped from his every word. There was a deep hatred there.

“What are you talking about? The goblins are in control of the gold. If it was hidden from you it was because of them,” someone shouted from the Wizengamot.

“Liar!” Foresight shouted, turning to the Wizengamot. “We know what you told the goblins, every single one of you knows that there are no such things as muggleborns anymore. Even the first magical was not born but evolved, just like normal humans.” He raised his fist at them in a threatening manner. Like he was mad as hell and wasn’t going to take it anymore.

That caused grumbling.

“Where’s your proof?” someone yelled.

“Everywhere. There has always been magicals around, even in the time of the caveman. Shaman, village healers, witchdoctors, holy men. They’ve always been there. It wasn’t until the Romans that they started procreating into a more sustainable population. It’s all throughout history. Yet, you bastards denied us, and now that we are taking what’s ours, you have the balls to tell us we can’t. Let me put this as simple as I can. Fuck off!” he finished with a yell, his face red with anger, his shoulders heaving with emotion.

Many of the Wizengamot started shouting back at the man, but too many of them were affronted by his manner.

Major put his hand on the distraught man’s shoulder, squeezed it a bit and moved him back. Foresight was usually a calm and kind man, hence him being Deputy Headmaster, but this must have hit home to him. The Prime Minister had heard the horror stories from many, about how they had been thrown back into the nonmagical world with no money, and most with families that rejected them. Seven years lost to so many. Support groups had sprung up, helping where they could, but still it had to hurt to be denied what was promised. And now finding out that they had had money all this time…

“What rubbish are you speaking?” the pink toad said. “It is a well-known fact that muggleborns steal magic,” she snapped, her face just as red as Foresight’s.

That cause the Wizengamot to grumble, many didn’t agree with Umbridge, and felt she had no right putting words in their mouths. A few stood up and yelled at her to be silent. Until Dumbledore created a bang from his wand. He missed the Elder Wand, but he found his old one.

“Do you not care that Hogwarts, and Diagon Alley will suffer with your withdrawal?” the Hogwarts’s headmaster asked the group. “The magical world will deteriorate due to your seceding,” he added as if his words would make them change their minds.

“Pfft,” came the noise from many of the bodyguards.

“You know, Dumbledore, it is you we blame the most,” Bradstone said, folding his arms and glaring at the old man.

“Me?” the old man asked, completely confused. “I have done all I could for muggleborns,” he stated with complete sincerity. He truly believed what he was saying.  

“Yes, you,” the other man said with a pointed look. “You sat on your throne in the Great Hall, and preached kindness and forgiveness. You sat back and watched as we were bullied, hexed for not being pure. You told us that it was children letting off steam, as we sat in the Hospital Wing getting treated. You took a few points off the offenders but smiled your kind smile and told them it was alright, that no one was badly hurt. And then you said that it would be different when we left Hogwarts. So, we had hope, until you sat on this throne, and preached the same thing, telling us that it was tradition as we were cast out. You, sir, are a fraud,” he finished, then nodded his head to Major.

Major pulled a folder from the briefcase at his side. “This,” he held it up, “is from the Queen. It is orders to clean up your act. We will let you stay separate from us, but unlike the last war you had, were many nonmagical people were killed, if a war breaks out again, and you let it flow over to us, then we will come here and destroy you.” His face took on a stony look, like he wasn’t fooling around.

That caused more shouting, which was ignored. Another gunshot shut them up.

“How ever will you do that?” Dumbledore asked, genuinely curious.  

“Never you mind,” Major said, waving his question away. “It is in the treaty that you would never use your magic to kill nonmagicals,” he continued.  “Which, I might add, has been repeatedly broken. Not anymore, we let it slide last time because you said you had it all under control. We found out, from the muggleborns, that this was a lie, and you covered up the crimes. Not again. There will be a magical bodyguard with every government official from now on. All the parents of muggleborns have been given the right to protect their home anyway they feel necessary. I will tell you right now, if one wand is raised in anyone’s direction. You will be killed on sight.” He stated, throwing the folder in front of Fudge.

He then turned and started out of the room. The rest followed with the bodyguards covering their retreat. Noise exploded before the doors closed, but they kept walking.

Soon enough they were back in the nonmagical world. Times for meetings were arranged, and then they all parted. They knew it would only be a matter of time before the wizards did something stupid. Plans had to be made.

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Meanwhile at Dagworth-Granger’s Fine Institute of Learning and Magic, breakfast was under way for the secondary students. They only had an hour, then the primary would start porting in, and they’d head to class.

The cafeteria was on the third floor, with the porting room next to it. Primary classes were on the first and second floor, and secondary were on the fourth and fifth. The offices were on the ground floor. The attic, or upper floor, was where P.E. was held on rainy days.

Children were laughing and talking and generally making noise. Some, like Hermione, were studying before class. She had talked her friends into opening their books, but they were only skimming them and talking, which made her huff.

Many of the teachers, however, and the headmistress were frantically combing the cafeteria. The wards had been pinging since the kids arrived and they were searching for what caused it, without alerting the children. Wands were discreetly out and scanning the hall.

Suddenly a loud young girl’s voice said, “I am not a stupid girl, Tom!” and a book flew across the room. It landed on the floor next to the Teacher’s Table.

“That’s what we’re looking for. Who threw it?” one teacher asked, heading for the evil feeling book.

“It was the little redhead. Ginny Weasley, I think,” another stated, moving towards the girl, who was crying.

“Bring her to the office,” the headmistress whispered. “Be gentle about it. Call her parents. I’ll get the police,” she ordered and then bustled away.

Soon enough, the headmistress and the Weasleys were all settled in the office, which was simply a desk, chair, filing cabinets, and bookcases. There was plenty of room, and everyone was sitting in conjured chairs.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting on either side of Ginny, who was looking sad and scared.

“Well, this is not the way I wanted the first day to go,” Madam Fitzgerald said, folding her hands on her desk. “However, it is nice to know the wards work,” she sighed. Her face softened as she looked at the terrified child. “Can you tell me where you got that diary?” she asked kindly.

The book was already gone, the police took it immediately. They said that they would give it to the equivalent of Unspeakables. There they would analyze it to find out just what it was.

“Percy gave it to me,” Ginny whispered. “He said it was in his books he got for Hogwarts. He said only girls write in diaries, but that can’t be right because it was a boy’s name on the cover.”

“Ginny?” her father said, inquisitively. “Did the book write back?” He really wanted to know. According to the headmistress she had shouted at the book, so it was a good question.

“Yes, he said his name was Tom,” she started quietly, then her voice raised a bit, “and that he’d help me in school. He was always talking about how good Hogwarts was. I tried to tell him that I wasn’t going there, but he kept saying that it was the only school. He wouldn’t listen to me, until here this morning. I told him all about Dags, and then he called me a stupid girl who couldn’t do anything right. So, I got mad and threw it. You know the rest,” she said the last in a whisper.

“We’ll talk about this when you get home tonight,” Arthur stated, petting her hair.

“Mr. Weasley, did anything happen that day in Diagon Alley? A book like that would not be in a store shelf,” Fitzgerald asked, looking at the head of the girl’s house.

“There was a bit of a scuffle between me and another man. He was upset at me,” Arthur said, furrowing his brow trying to remember. “The last thing I did working for the Ministry was raid his home. We didn’t find much, but he was affronted by that. I think. I know he opposed a bill I had submitted before I left. Even after I was gone, it was still on the docket,” the man said, looking at the head mistress. “Do you think it was a plant?” he asked, horrified.

“It could very well be. What was the man’s name?” she asked, picking up a pencil.

“Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy,” Arthur told her.

“Very well,” she said as she jotted it down. She then looked up. “I will inform the police when we are finished. I suggest you do the same,” she said with a quirked eyebrow. Then she smiled at Ginny. “You can return to class, dear. But do try not to write in anything that writes back, unless told to by a teacher.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she mumbled, then hugged her parents and left the room. The secretary was outside to show her the way.

There wasn’t much else said to the Weasley parents and they were sent home.

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School returned to normal, and the children had a busy day. Harry and Justin ported home and met in the hall. They were talking a mile a minute about what had happened that day. They finally made it to the sitting room where Justin’s parents were relaxing. They sat opposite of them and rambled about classes.

“It was great,” Justin gushed as he grabbed some biscuits from the table. “All nonmagical classes, as you know. We had English, Math and Geography in the morning, then Arts and P.E. in the afternoon. Each class is about two hours long, but only an hour apart. It was wicked,” he said, biting a cookie. “They’re going to stagger the class throughout the week. But we have English, Math and P.E. every day,” he stated with his mouth full of crumbs, but he was still understood. He washed them down quickly when his mum quirked and eyebrow at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, but I can’t wait until we can do magic,” Harry pouted a bit, also grabbing a biscuit. He bit into it now that he was done talking.

“It’s only a few months,” Patrick consoled. “You can practice some here, but only what you learned last year, and only after homework.”

“Did you meet up with all your friends?” Patrice asked, sipping her tea.

“Yeah, and we made a few new ones. Neville, Hermione, and Dean all sat with us at breakfast and lunch. We met the youngest Weasley, Ginny, and a girl name Luna. She’s really weird, but nice,” Justin said, biting his cookie.

“Yeah, but, that Ron kid, Ginny’s brother, he was at Hogwarts last year, he was upset that he couldn’t bring his pet to school. He kept going on and on about how if he were a Hogwarts, he’d be able to. But the rules say no animals,” Harry said, wondering why the boy would want to bring a dirty old rat to school anyway.

“Breakfast was a bit exciting,” Justin said, then telling them what he knew. Which wasn’t much, just that the teachers freaked out over a book, and Ginny had to go to the Head Office. Ginny had told them it was an evil book at lunch.

“Well, I guess we know the wards work,” Patrick said, pleased that it all happened without incident. The adults looked at one another, debating what to tell the boys about their morning. Then decided to keep it brief. “We had some excitement as well. We, and a few others, were called in front of the Wizengamot, which is like the House of Lords. We informed them that they were no longer in control of us, or any muggleborn. And then we left. Easy-peasy.”

“Sounds like we all had an eventful day. You boys go do your homework. Dinner is at seven,” Patrice said, shooing them away.

“Okay, Mum,” Justin stated, grabbing a few more treats and running up the stairs.

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said, doing the same.

“I hope we don’t get any visitors any time soon,” she said to her husband after she heard the boys upstairs.

“If they come, I’ll be waiting,” he said, his face like granite.

She just sighed and sipped her tea.

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Rewrite 10/02/24: Didn’t add much to this one, but I put a few sentences in and corrected a few mistakes.

Chapter Text

Thanks for the reviews.

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A week passed, and it was Friday, Harry was making his first visit to Mr. Black. Patrick went with him, simply because the boy didn’t know the man. They entered St. Bridget’s and went to the same room as before.

Sirius was sitting up and talking to a man, who wore crumpled, darned clothes, and had sandy hair peppered with grey. The new man also had quite a few scars on his face. Both men turned when the door open, and both broke out with smiles.

“Harry,” Sirius said, waving him over, “is it that time already? Great! Meet Remus Lupin, he was also a friend of your dads,” he said, looking much livelier than he had last week. His cheeks had filled out and his hair wasn’t quite as lanky.

“Harry,” Remus said, getting up, circling the bed and holding out his hand, “It’s good to meet you at last.” His eyes were kind, and he seemed like a very mellow person.

Harry shook the hand, and the three adults gave their welcomes to each other. Harry sat on a chair next to the bed, Patrick stayed by the door, leaning against the wall. He would take a seat, but there were only two chairs in the room. Remus retook his seat, and they all stared at each other for a minute.

Harry cleared his throat. “Mr. Lupin, why have I not met you before?” he asked, a hurt look and a curious tilt of his head. He wondered if the man was a friend of his parents, then he should have met him long before now.

“You told me in your letters that you didn’t want to meet me right away. The letters said that you wanted to settle at Hogwarts. I also got letters from your aunt, telling me not to come to her house,” the confused man stated, looking to Sirius, who shrugged.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve never heard of you before today,” Harry said, turning his gaze to Patrick, who was frowning.

“We know that Harry’s letters were being diverted, but we had no idea someone was answering them,” he said deep in thought. Harry was answering his own post now, after it was vetted by the goblins. He hadn’t even investigated the possibility that someone would have pretended to be Harry, just to hold people off. Death Eaters he could understand, but friends of the family… that just wasn’t right.

“Who would do that?” Remus asked, with a bit of a growl. He was extremely upset. He thought that Harry had just been shy. He had shared all sorts of stories in those letters, and to now find out that it was all a ruse.

“We can only speculate at this point, but the misdirect was placed by Dumbledore,” Patrick said, stepping nearer to Harry, just in case the two men exploded. “He informed me that it was to protect Harry. I took him at his word because it made sense,” he added.

Remus took a deep breath, while Sirius was cussing up a storm under his breath. It took a few minutes for them to settle, but they finally did.

“I’m going to be having words with that man,” Remus stated, growling in an undertone.

“You and me both, Moony,” Sirius stated with just as fierce a growl.

“Well,” Harry started, trying to calm them down, “what have you been doing this week, Mr. Black?” he asked, desperate for a change in subject. While he wanted to know who messed with his post, he didn’t want to be around angry adults. He had no love for Dumbledore, but he didn’t want them to blame the man, if it wasn’t him.

“Reading the newspaper, mostly,” the bedridden man replied, waving to the stack of papers by his bed. “The Potter Herald is much better than the Daily Prophet,” he stated with some gusto. He was very much surprised at that fact and was happy to see it.

“Yes, we sold our shares of that rag, the minute after I read it,” Patrick said with a sneer. He had gotten a good price for those shares; little good it did the buyer now. What, with their economy going down the drain.

“Justin thought it was great to be in control of a newspaper,” Harry added, shifting a bit when all eyes landed on him.

“There was no saving that… paper. It was too far gone. However, we do own some shares in the Potter Herald,” Justin’s dad said, squeezing his shoulder.

“How was school, Harry? Any better than Hogwarts?” Sirius asked, sitting up on the bed a bit straighter. He was overly eager to hear about it. He loved his old alma mater. He was almost hopeful to hear that Dags was worst than Hogwarts, but at the same time hopeful that it was better, for Harry’s sake.

“It’s great!” the boy enthused, causing the two men to have conflicting emotions. “Much better than Hogwarts. We get to go home every day, and we get to meet new people too. The other students that are in my year think so too. Mostly. I have only heard a few complaints. That Ron kid is still complaining about his rat. I mean, it’s not like anyone gets to bring their pets,” Harry rambled on, not noticing the looks shared by the two friends.

“A rat, you say. Umm, can you tell me anything about this rat?” Remus asked, not convinced it would be Wormtail, but he needed to make sure. It was bad enough he shot revealing spells at every rat he saw, now he was chasing another, probably dead-end lead. Still, he wanted that rat caught. Any glimmer of information was to be scrutinized.

“Yeah, I remember it from last year. Ron kept bringing it to meals, which is gross. Umm, it’s a regular grey rat, with a fat tail and it’s missing a toe on its front right paw,” he said, tapping his finger on his chin trying to remember.

“Do you know how old it is?” Sirius asked, leaning forward a bit in anticipation.

“No, not really. I mean, me and Ron ain’t friends,” the boy answered, making the two men sigh in disappointment.

“’Ron and I’,” corrected Patrick, “and don’t say ain’t.” He ruffled the boy’s hair with a bit of a chuckle, then looked at the two men who were whispering to one another. “Something wrong?” he asked, making both men jerk their heads his way, like they had been caught in a prank.

“Yeah, do you know Ron’s last name? Can you get one of his parents here? Maybe call the police?” Remus said as calmly as he could, but he was shaking a bit in rage. His eyes flashed yellow, causing Harry to yelp and push back his chair. “Sorry, Harry, I’m a bit off at the moment. Patrick, can we take this outside? Harry can get to know Sirius better.” He got up and left, hoping the other man would follow.

“Sure,” the confused, yet intrigued, man said. “I’ll be right outside, Harry.” He opened the door and followed the werewolf outside.

“Okay,” the boy said, nodding his head, just glad that the angry man was gone.

“Don’t worry about Remus,” Sirius tried to console. “He’s just angry at something,” he added, keeping his anger off his face.

“What? Does it have to do with Ron’s rat?” Harry asked cautiously. That didn’t make a lick of sense to him. What did a rat have to do with anything? It was just a rat.

“Yes, maybe, but that’s all I’ll tell you. Best keep it a secret for now, okay?” the black-haired man said, patting the boy on the arm, after he scooted his chair back.

“Okay, I guess,” was all the answer he got.

So, Sirius turned talks to Harry’s parents. They talked for a good hour before Patrick returned, without Remus, to take Harry home. The two said good-bye and went back to the mansion. Harry asked Justin’s dad about the rat, but the man kept his mouth shut. He told him it was a secret until such time as it panned out into something. It might turn out to be nothing at all.

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Later that week, Patrick was reading the paper, and it told the story of how a man named Peter Pettigrew was captured. He was found as a pet at the Weasley home, though they didn’t print the name, just that it was a wizard’s home. The man was currently in the new jail, which was warded against any means of escape, including Animagus. The new jail was called, Pillars Hall, since it had pillars that held the wards.

He showed the story to Patrice, who got scared that one of these Animagus could get past the wards. So, he called the goblins to find out if they could. No, he was told, Animagus still register as a wizard to the wards. The Finch-Fletchley adults sighed in relief.

They were still on tenterhooks over the unrest in the wizarding world. They went about their daily routine but kept a watchful eye on everything. Their businesses weren’t warded after all, but they did each carry a portkey around their necks. They still feared for their coworkers. It was nerve-racking waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Time went by and nothing happened, some people started to relax, while others got more tense. It was around the time of Halloween, and Harry and Justin had invited all their friends, including the purebloods, to stay the night, so they could go trick-or-treating. The younger Weasley’s, sans Percy, were happy to go. Neville had to have Patrick talk to his gran, but she soon conceded. Luna simply showed up.

First there was a party held, with all those in Harry’s year group and their siblings. It started around three in the afternoon and was to commemorate the dead. They then went trick-or-treating around six in the evening.

While not a widespread custom, they did find one place to go. They were all running around on a street that was set up with lights and props to scare the children. House to house they went, just enjoying the festivities. Each dressed in costume, which the purebloods thought was wicked.

Soon it was time to head back to the mansion, first they watched some horror movies, which fascinated the wizard-raised kids. Then they stayed up to tell ghost stories, wizarding and non. The wizard-raised kids didn’t understand why the ‘muggleborn’ would fear ghosts, but the stories were cool.

They all fell asleep around midnight, everyone camped out in sleeping bags in the drawing room. Around two in the morning, a frantic knock came on the front door. Whoever it was, was banging loudly, making the children scramble to the Entrance Hall. Patrick hollered at them not to answer the door and go back into the room.

Patrick, after making sure the kids listened, answered the door, his gun behind his back.

There, huddled together, looking like they had just come from battle, were the Weasley parents, and Percy, Mr. Lovegood, and a few policemen.

“Oh my, whatever happened?” Patrick asked, storing his gun in the waist of his pajama pants, and waving them in.

“The Burrow is gone,” Molly wailed, leaning heavily on her husband. “Thank Merlin, the kids were here!” She looked around to find her children. Not seeing them, she panicked a bit, until she heard them yell.

“What?” came the cry from the drawing room, as the Weasley children all rushed forward. The rest followed. Everyone who had a parent there, went to them. They weren’t going to be left out if they could help it. Hermione and Dean, stood by Harry, who was standing at the far wall, just watching, while Justin and his parents played host to the distraught families.

“They came early this morning, just after midnight. Dressed like Death Eaters,” Arthur started, guiding his wife to the nearest seat, which was a bench used to take off shoes. The kids crowded around, each touching a parent to make sure they were there and okay. “The wards flared; Molly ported away. I called the police on the… phone, like I was instructed, and they came as soon as they could.” He nodded to the three police officers standing by the door.

They grimaced a bit but nodded that he was correct. It had been one of those nights. Too many people attacked. Everyone in the wizarding world that had sent their children to Dags, was attacked this night. There were quite a few at St. Mungo’s and St. Bridget’s. They tried to get them all to St. Bridget’s, but a few claimed they needed to stay at St. Mungo’s.

“But by that time,” Mr. Weasley continued, “they had dropped the wards, and were setting fire to the house. I’m pretty sure it was Fiendfyre, but I can’t be positive.” There was a haunted look in his eyes. His house was gone, but his family was there and okay, so he was not as upset as he could be.

“It was,” one of the cops said. “We left a team there to tame it.”  

“Oh, yes, well, I used my portkey to Dags when I realized there was nothing I could do,” Arthur said, sitting down heavily next to Molly, who was clutching his jacket. “Molly had already sent a message to Percy, and then the police got him from Hogwarts,” he said, patting his son on the back, who was sitting morosely next to him. “Then we came here,” he finished.

“Why didn’t you port out sooner?” Patrice wanted to know, handing Molly some tea, which she just brewed.

“I wanted to see if I could save the house. Molly had already left, Percy was at school, and the rest of the kids were here, so…” he trailed off looking haunted. He will never forget the sight of his home burning. He was just glad that none of the rest of his family saw that. Everything they had ever worked for as a family… gone. Years of magic, sweat, and muscle, just ash now.

“Well, at least you and your family are safe,” Patrick said, handing Arthur a triple shot of whiskey. He looked askingly at Molly, but she declined holding up her teacup.

“Daddy?” Luna asked, tilting her head at her father.

“Yes,” he sighed, making her nod in understanding.

From the byplay they figured that the same had happened to the Lovegood house.

“Sir,” Neville said quickly to one of the policemen, “has anyone checked my gran?” he asked with a fearful look.

“I’ll call it in and get someone over there right now,” the man said, stepping outside and talking into his radio.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Justin said, giving the boy a one-armed hug. While the others, not being held by their parents, patted him on the back.

“You can all stay the night here, and we’ll see about finding you a new house in the morning. I think everyone is going to be sleeping late tomorrow,” Patrice said, putting a hand on Molly’s arm and guiding her up the stairs to the adult wing.

Arthur downed his drink and followed.

“You stay here, kids,” he said to his children when they made to come with. “Your mum needs me right now, and I’d feel better if you were all together,” he added, looking at Percy like he should keep a close watch on them. Percy nodded, and started hustling his siblings to the drawing room, where he had seen them come from.

“Officers, thanks for bringing them. We have them from here,” Patrick said, nodding to the policemen.

“We just wanted to report they are free of spells. We checked before we came,” a cop told him, as they moved towards the door.

“Thanks, for that,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley said as he closed the door and then said, “Come, Xeno, let’s get you to bed. Do you want Luna?” He looked to the slight girl, who was looking at her daddy.

“Ladybug, stay with your friends,” was the troubled answer as he was led away.

“Okay, Daddy,” she said airily, and then went back to her sleeping bag and laid down. Her thoughts drifting on what had happened that night. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep, safe in knowing her friends and daddy were nearby. She didn’t want to talk about how close she had come to losing her remaining parent. That would lead to conversing about her mum. So, she played possum.

All the other kids were soon sitting in a circle.

“Oh, my goodness,” breathed Hermione, holding on to a crying Ginny. “I am so sorry this has happened to you. I hope that you can find a new home,” she said, rubbing her hand up and down Ginny’s back in a comforting manner.

“Dad has a better job now,” Fred started, grasping his twin’s arm,

“So, we should be okay,” George finished, leaning on Fred.

“Maybe we could get a house like this one,” Ron stated, looking around the elaborate room.

“I doubt that,” Fred said, not harshly.

“Dad’s not that rich,” agreed George.

“Besides,” Percy said, a slight glare at his youngest brother, “we don’t need something this fancy.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Percy,” Dean said, patting Ron on the shoulder. “Everyone dreams of living in a house like this, at one point or another.”

“I know I did,” Harry concurred. Then beamed when Justin shot him a welcoming smile. He was grateful for the Finch-Fletchleys for taking him in. It truly was a dream come true.

“We should try to sleep,” Hermione said, pulling her sleeping bag next to Ginny’s.

“Yeah,” came the agreement from a few of the others. They all settled in their bags, Percy on the couch with a blanket, but it was hours before anyone slept.

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Patrice was right, everyone had a late start that morning. She had called the school and offices and made their excuses for the day. Arthur sent an owl to Hogwarts, stating that his sons would return the next day. Then they all gathered in the formal dining room because it had a bigger table. Everyone was eating what they could, some a lot, some little.

After breakfast, Patrick sent everyone but the Weasley kids, and Luna, off to go flying, though Hermione brought a book and just watched. Neville sat with her and fretted. Patrick made sure Mike was with them, and then took the rest out to house hunt.

Since he was a banker, he offered the Weasleys and the Lovegoods a loan, then explained what it was. They took him up on his offer, and soon were in town looking at real estate. It might take a few days, but magic made selling and buying much faster. Until then they could stay with the Finch-Fletchleys. Each family decided to stay in the new magical town and cut all their ties with the other world.

Xeno asked Patrick about a startup loan for his paper. He didn’t want to give that up, and everything had been destroyed the night before.

Patrick had read the Quibbler before, and thought the town could use a paper like that. Even if it was a bit quirky. So, he agreed.

It wasn’t until late afternoon when they found out that Neville’s grandmother was at St. Bridget’s. Patrice took him there immediately, and he stayed until visiting hours were over. She was in a bad way, but they were very hopeful she would pull through. Neville would be staying at the mansion until such time as he could go home. If there was a home, he didn’t know if it survived. The police only informed him about his gran.

His parents were doing better, but still not coherent. They did react to stimuli though, so it was an improvement.

It was going to be a crowded house for the next week or so. Neville, Luna, and the two youngest and adult Weasleys and Mr. Lovegood would be housing at the mansion. It was a big house, but that was quite the influx of people.

The portkeys all had to be reconfigured to leave from the mansion to the school. The Weasley twins had to get back to Hogwarts, they were only supposed to be there for Halloween, and that was only because Dumbledore thought they would try and talk Harry back.

Not going to happen, but the twins said they’d mention it. They did… as they left.

“By the way, Harry,” Fred said, standing on the portkey square at six in the morning. They would be ported to Hogs Head, where they would then walk to Hogwarts. Ron and Ginny were already at Dags.

“Dumbledore wants you back,” finished George, giving Harry a wink.

“Umm, okay,” Harry said, looking back and forth between them.

“Just thought you’d like to know,” they said together, then Fred disappeared, George quickly followed. Percy had left a few moments earlier.

“That was weird,” Harry said with a shrug, then stood in the square to get to school.

“It sure was,” Patrice said, laughing at the joke the twins played on the old headmaster. She knew those boys were pranksters, but that took the cake.

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Rewrite 10/03/24: Only dressed it up a bit. Corrected a few errors.

Chapter Text

Thanks for all the reviews.

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“They pranked Dumbledore,” she told her husband as she came into the room. It was their bedroom, and he was getting dressed.

“Oh?” he asked, adjusting his cufflinks. He was dressing up; he was going to the office today. He wanted to look smart.

“Yes,” she said, explaining what the twins had said when they left. He had a good laugh at the old man’s expense.

“Come on,” he said when he was done, putting his arm around her waist. “We have to get to the office, and our guests are leaving to go house hunting.” He led her down the stairs, and into the living room, where their guests were arranged, sipping on some coffee or tea, as their taste preferred.

“Breakfast first,” she said, smiling at everyone, making them feel welcome.

“Okay, everyone, we’re in the informal dining room today. Now that all the kids are all back at school, we don’t need the large one,” Patrick said, his arm still around his wife, and he turned and led the way to said room.

“This is such a beautiful house,” Molly said for the hundredth time. She still marveled that muggles would have such extravagance. Everything was different, but it was all either functional or aesthetically pleasing.

Arthur agreed with her, though he felt he would never feel comfortable around such wealth. He was a simple man, and liked to get his hand dirty, via hard work around the house. Put him in a nice house with some chickens and a vegetable garden and he was in heaven.

Xeno simply followed. His thoughts were elsewhere. He had his head in the clouds as usual, dreaming as to what to do now that his paper was gone and his house demolished.

“Thank you,” Patrice answered as she always did. “It’s been in Patrick’s family for many generations. Oh, it’s been redecorated many times, but the building is still the same.” She had said something along the same lines many times, but Molly continued to compliment on the house every time they moved through it.

“From what I understand, from the family tree we got at Gringotts, it was a ‘squib’ that built it. Our family was always very well to do, but we kept to ourselves,” Patrick explained, sitting at the head of the table, and waiting for breakfast to be served. “The Finch-Fletchleys were not predominate in the wizard culture… not pure enough. They tended to marry ‘muggleborns’ or non-magicals.” There was no bitterness, but there was a lack of something in his voice. Not pride, per se, but something.

“That’s fascinating. What happened to them?” Molly asked, enthralled as she took the seat next to her husband. Xeno sat on the others side next to Patrice.

“They were killed off by one Dark Lord or another,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, sipping his coffee. “It wasn’t until only my many-greats grandfather was left, that the family disappeared from that world. He decided, since he had no magic, what you call a squib, to take what money was left, leaving enough behind to keep the vault open for dividends, and flee to the non-magical world. We’ve been in this house ever since.” With that explanation the pride showed through. He was quite proud of what his great-grand father had accomplished.

“It still amazes me that all ‘muggleborn’ are descendant from wizarding families,” Xeno said, compiling articles in his head. He had already posted one, and now that he might have to start over, he was going to use the new chance to get the word out to whoever would listen. He still had subscribers from the other world, and hopefully would get new ones, so…

“Shocked us too,” Patrick said, serving himself up some eggs that had just been placed on the table. “Eat up, everyone. We all have a busy day in front of us,” he stated as he waved his fork in the general direction of the food.

That started everyone eating, making light conversations, and then parting for the day.

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The kids were doing the same at Dags. The rumor mill was in full swing, they learned just how many families had got hit the night of Halloween. The headmistress addressed the student body and expressed that there would be counselors to help those that needed to talk it through. Then she had to explain what a counselor was to those who didn’t know. The counselors would be available during P.E., lunch, and after school until they were no longer needed. There would always be one on staff, but they had brought in a few more for this. The student simply had to tell their teacher, and a pass would be given. The counselor was free.

Neville was the only one in their group who expressed that he would go. They all agreed with him, and the day moved on. Ginny and Ron didn’t feel the need to talk about what happened, and Luna, well, she was Luna.

Harry thought he might talk to her father to get the slight girl to talk to someone, but he wasn’t sure that the queer man would agree. Still, he had to try. There were too many times that Luna would just drift off. Never in class, but other times she would just space out, and it was worrying.

That night at the mansion, they were in the formal dining room again, when Patrick had a thought. He waited until dinner was over and pulled Arthur aside into one of the studies. There was a large desk, which Patrick ignored, and a few chairs around a small table, next to the fireplace. That’s where he sat.

There was a minibar at the left wall, which was stocked with whiskey, rum and gin, and a few mixers. There was a small freezer that had crushed ice. And a few tumblers on the bar. No stools, just the bar. 

“Arthur,” he started, waving the man to sit in a comfortable wingback chair across from him, “whatever happened to Malfoy?” he asked, gently. He had wanted to know but was reluctant to bring up what could be a difficult subject.

“Last I heard, he was arrested. There are charges of attempted manslaughter, for him giving that book to Percy.” Mr. Weasley frowned at the thought of how close two of his children had come to being killed. He gave a fleeting thought to what else might have happened, but mostly he worried about his kids.

“Is he being held in Gobhan Caraidean, or at the Ministry?” was the next question. That would have different outcomes as to how the man was punished.

“In town,” Arthur confirmed. “It was the Gobhan Caraidean’s… police that caught him and raided his home. Something called a search warrant, I think. It was signed by the mayor. Anyway, they found many of the dark items I looked for in my raid and booked him right then and there. He protested, from what I heard, but they simply ported him into a cell, and are now making a case.” There was a great deal of pride for the police, but shame for himself in that explanation. He thought he should have found all those dark objects, but he had missed so many of them. Still, they had found them and that allowed them to arrest the man.

“Oh?” Patrick asked, leaning forward a bit.

“Yes, Gobhan Caraidean’s court system is much different than the other one. You have no Wizengamot, and only one judge sits on trials,” the confused man said, canting a questioning eyebrow towards Patrick.

“That is normal nonmagical procedures,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley confirmed. “Many times, there’s a jury, which is compiled of normal citizens. They are usually sequestered, so that no one can threaten, or bribe, them,” he explained as simply as he could. “It’s up to them to determine guilt. We call it ‘The judgment of his peers’, though I have a feeling that Malfoy wouldn’t agree that normal citizen are his peers. Still, if they find him guilty, he will sit in jail until the prison is ready. That should be in the next month or two. They have to train the prison guards.”

“Not Dementors?” the redhead asked, a bit leery. He never liked the Dementors and found the practice of using them foul. 

“No, normal humans, maybe a werewolf or vampire,” Patrick said, making the other man sigh in relief.

“Strange, but effective,” Arthur said, thinking hard on that. “Anyway, rumor has it that Malfoy did what he always does and tried to bribe the officers. From what I’ve heard, that just tacked one more charge to his crimes.” He smiled viciously.

“And his family?” Patrick asked, knowing from what little word they got from that world, that many of the purebloods were suffering financially, especially since Gringotts pulled out.

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied honestly. “I haven’t heard anything about them.”

“Oh, I was hoping you could tell where that house elf, Dobby was. I want to talk to him and thank him for warning Harry. Not that it was needed, but the little guy took a great risk trying to help,” the other man stated, thinking he might hire the elf on if he was now without a family.

“Oh, well, I’ll see what I can find out. It might just be that they need to sell things, and their house elves might be one of those things,” the redhead man said, thinking on who he would ask about it. There was a Department for Magical Creatures in the new town, but they were quite different than the one at the Ministry. Still, he’d ask the man in charge to see what he could find out.

“Do they know what the book was?” came the next question. All he knew from the boys was that it was evil. However, he had a theory.

“I don’t know. All I know is it was evil and had to do with You-Know-Who,” Mr. Weasley said, frustrated. “They won’t tell me anything. They keep saying it is above my paygrade. I understand, I really do, but it is infuriating that I am not being informed,” he said, flexing his fist and releasing it. “It was my family that was in danger, I should be told what it was.” He truly believed that too.

“Oh, I guess then that they won’t tell me at all. I do agree that you should know, but, Arthur, what if it was something so evil that is should not be named at all?” Patrick said, thoughtfully.

“Oh, well, there are things that are like that in the magical world,” Mr. Weasley conceded, feeling a bit better. Still, he wanted to know if it was one of those things.

“I don’t truly know what it was, but I can speculate,” Patrick said, looking at the other man and weighing his options. He nodded to himself and leaned forward. “Put up a privacy ward,” he whispered.

Arthur looked at him inquiringly, and then did as asked.

“I think, and this is conjecture only, but I think it was a horcrux,” he said quietly, even with the ward.

“Truly?” the aghast man asked, only knowing about them from his work at the Ministry. His old department had been attached to the DMLE, so he was informed at what they were, but only vaguely. He knew it was an object that contained part of someone’s soul and how to identify one, but he didn’t know how it was made, or how to destroy it. Standard procedure said, if one was found the DOM was to be called.

His face morphed in horror as he realized that the book was related to You-Know-Who. His little girl had been talking to the Dark Lord. He felt faint, only to be brought around by Patrick’s next words.

“Yes, I believe so. I’ll tell you this, but it must go no further. Not even Patrice knows,” the other man said, looking hard at the redhead, judging him.

“You have my word. I’ll take a vow if I must. But my Occlumency is okay, and I can shore it up for this,” Mr. Weasley said, standing and going to the bar. He poured himself a stiff one, not as good as Ogden’s, but it would do. He offered Patrick one, and the man nodded. Ignoring the fact that Arthur was making himself at home.

“Your vow is not needed, and Harry told me what Occlumency is, so I will take you at your word. I am trusting you with this,” Patrick said, still weighing if he was doing the right thing.

Arthur seeing him falter, took a vow of silence for anything spoke of in that room. Molly didn’t need to know this information, she’d just fret.

“Harry had one in his forehead,” Mr. Finch-Fletchley said, then downed the glass he had just been handed. He, like Arthur, only had the vaguest idea of what one was, but he still shuddered at the thought that little Harry had to have one removed.

“Oh, that poor boy,” Arthur said, his eyes wide. That news was just as horrifying as Ginny chatting to the evil man. “I wonder if Dumbledore knew?” he asked no one. That would explain the man’s fascination with the boy.

“I don’t know, but I am leaning towards yes,” Patrick sniffed. He had no love for the old man, or any that followed him.

“Yes, I too have been doubting many things that Albus has done. I didn’t like the fact that he tried to have the twins ‘recruit’ Harry, nor that he wanted to keep Ron and Ginny at Hogwarts. He knows we are not rich, and that a free school would benefit us. What he wanted the twins to do is not something you put on children,” the redhead grumbled, getting more whiskey.

Patrick held up his hand that he didn’t want anymore. He wasn’t a heavy drinker, though he felt the other man wasn’t either. However, Arthur had had a few bad days, so he let him be.

“I don’t even want to hypothesize as to what goes on in Dumbledore’s mind. So, we’ll drop that topic for now. Any luck finding a house?” he asked instead.

Mr. Weasley sighed, downed his last drink, set the glass down on the minibar and moved back to his chair. “There are many wonderful houses in Gobhan Caraidean, but they really don’t call to me. I think, I am just to used to the Burrow,” he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Molly, on the other hand, is giddy over many of them. I am doing my best to keep her in our budget.” He grinned at his wife’s enthusiasm. She wanted something more lavish now that she had seen the Finch-Fletchley’s house.

“Women have good taste, at least it’s best to let them think that. I am a simple man, so I let my wife dictate the house,” Patrick said with a fond smile.

“Too true, my friend, too true,” the other man agreed, relaxing for the first time in days.

The two men talked well into the night, until their significant others came to find them. They all went to bed happy and slept well that night.

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That same night, after dinner Harry went to Mr. Lovegood. “Mr. Lovegood, can I talk to you a moment?” he asked, a bit nervous about what he was going to say. “Alone,” he added, giving Luna an apologetic smile.

“Of course, Harry,” Xeno said, gently nudging his daughter towards Justin, and the two youngest Weasleys. Neville was with Patrice, visiting his gran. They had left right after dinner. Mrs. Weasley was chatting with the cook over what had been served for dinner.

Harry led the way to a different study, this one didn’t have a bar, instead it had bookcases. Xeno wandered over to the books and read the titles.

“Mr. Lovegood?” Harry said, sitting in a chair by the wall. “I wanted to ask you something, that might be too personal,” he said, waiting for the man to pay attention.

“Oh, well, I will answer if I think it’s important enough, but if it is too personal I won’t. I’m sure you understand,” Luna’s dad said, taking the chair behind the desk and marveling at the knick-knacks that were scattered all over the top of it.

“Of course, I don’t want to pry, but I’m worried about Luna. Did she see her mum die?” Harry said, swallowing his nerves.

“My ladybug?” the man finally looked up from his perusal. “Yes, she did. It was quite traumatic for her. Why?” he was genuinely confused. As far as he could tell, she was fine. His little girl had nightmares for weeks, but she seemed to get over them.

“I think, and I’m sorry to say this, but I think she’s losing touch with reality,” Harry put forward as gently as he could. “I mean, I know she’s a great girl and all, but sometimes, she seems to drift off. Our school is offering counseling, and I think she might benefit from it,” he hurried on, not wanting to offend the man, but he really wanted to help. Luna was his friend.

“Drifting off, you say. Why yes, she does tend to do that, but I’m not sure this is a bad thing,” Xeno said, rubbing his chin in thought. Thinking about all the times Luna seemed lost to the world. But it only lasted a few moments, then she would smile her dreamy smile, and all was right with the world. He would be a hypocrite if he thought less of her for doing that, since he tended to do the same thing.

“Okay, but as far as I know, she lost her mum, and she almost lost you. When that happened, she just closed up,” the boy said, hoping to get the man to listen. “We can’t get more than two words out of her a day, that make sense anyway,” he added. He wanted to stress that he was very worried about her.

“Did she? Hmm, perhaps you are on to something,” the older man said, looking at the concern on the child’s face. “What is counseling?” he asked, folding his hands on the desk and not looking away from the nervous boy.

“Well, let me see if I can explain. I’ve never been to one you see. It’s like talking to a person who is trained to help you feel better about yourself and the world around you. I mean, I think, they give you advise on how to handle problems, like grief, fear, and other things. Like that, you see?” Harry asked, his brow wrinkled as he tried to find the right words.

“Interesting,” Mr. Lovegood said, thinking hard on what the boy was trying to convey. “From what I know of your childhood, perhaps you can see one as well. It might make my ladybug a bit more receptive.”

“Oh, I never thought of that. I’ll talk to Mr. Finch-Fletchley,” Harry said, agreeing that maybe it would do him some good. He could admit that he had a bit of a temper and there were traumas in his past that he had yet to face.

“Do you think I can meet one?” the older man inquired, very intrigued by this notion.

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess so. You’d have to call the school and find out, or call St. Bridget’s,” Harry answered, excited that the man was listening to him.

“Then that is what I’ll do. Thank you, Mr. Potter, I will do that, yes,” Mr. Lovegood said drifting off in thought, making Harry think this man might benefit from counseling as well.

Seeing as Xeno’s attention was gone, Harry left the room feeling good about himself. He whistled a merry tune and went to find his friends. He benefited from the talk as well as helped a friend.

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Rewrite 10/03/24: Not much added on this one, most corrections.

Chapter Text

I know it’s all vague and such, but this story was never meant to be slow paced. It was truly only meant to be a few one-shots, so I thought I’d draw it to an end.

Also, I know the twins didn’t invent the Extendable Ears yet, but hey… artistic license.

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Harry, Luna, Neville all had a few sessions with the counselors. Harry was doing well, he only needed three sessions, and was told that he was very well rounded for what he had suffered. He was counseled that he could do with some meditation and perhaps some yoga, but that other than controlling his anger, he was fine.

Neville was still seeing his, his gran had done quite a number on him, and he needed more time to adjust to what the counselor was trying to impart. There was talk about removing him from her care and the Finch-Fletchleys were talking about fostering him as well. He was still at their house of now anyway.

Luna… well, Luna spent one hour with hers and was immediately identified as a seer. So instead of counseling, she was sent to the Divination teacher. Who took her under her wing and taught her how to focus.

All in all, everyone was doing well. Well, mostly. Neville was doing as well as could be expected.

Neville’s gran was still in the hospital, so he was staying with the Finch-Fletchleys. His parents were now awake, but still too confused to talk. They would ramble, but nothing coherent.

The Weasleys found a two-story farmhouse, with a little plot of land. Big enough for a garden, some chickens, and a Quidditch field, albeit a small one. There was a small wooded area, and a trickling stream. It was so much like the Burrow that Arthur talked Molly into adding rooms to it instead of buying bigger. She was just happy to have a home for her children.

The Lovegoods acquired a house that was shaped like a tower. Not quite like the rook of their old house, but it could be shaped that way if they so desired. Luna told the others that they were thinking of making it a queen this time.

They didn’t live close to the Weasleys as they were closer to town, and Xeno’s new office building. His paper was taking off in Gobhan Caraidean, and he still had his old subscribers. He made it more newsworthy, yet still waxed on about unusual creatures. There were many hunts planned to find these creatures, and it was slotted as a summer excursion for those fifteen and over.

Many magical beings found their way to Gobhan Caraidean, or the forest and mountains surrounding it. There were more wards put up, folding ones like the town, but these were sanctuaries. The town had leave to come and go, but not to interfere with the animals/creatures/beings that were housed there.

Smaller beings, like fairies and pixies, were seen in town. It was a mess for a while, but the Department of Magical Creatures soon had it all sorted out. The little creatures were informed that if they didn’t obey the law, they would be relocated to the forest. It took a lot of negotiating, but in the end the tiny beings agreed to behave.

Christmas came and went, with presents, and parties. Everyone was starting to relax, and it was good. They all settled in their new houses, or updated the old, and each child kept in close contact with their friends, via phone.

The wizard-raised loved the phone system. It was much easier than the Floo, though they had those as well. It was a new system that only linked to the inside of the town, and those led only to a certain hall. Only the mayor had a direct Floo. Those not inside Gobhan Caraidean didn’t have the Floo, but they had a permanent portkey. So, they could meet in town.

School was back in session and the kids were all happy. It had been a great vacation, and they were all anticipating going back to class. Well, not all, but most. Harry and his friends spent all their time not in class, meeting and greeting others. They wanted to make sure that everyone was happy to be there, and that if they needed help, it was offered.

The whole school was much more relaxed than Hogwarts ever was and many just liked the fact that they could go home at night.

Teachers were extremely strict, they made sure that bullying was not tolerated, and pranks that fell into that category were treated justly. Ginny made sure the twins knew that, and she wrote to them about every time she heard rumor of a prankster getting suspended. She loved her brothers and didn’t want them caught unawares. They wrote back their thanks and schemed to make sure they were not seen thus. Except to other bullies.

Those in remedial classes were tested for learning disorders, and the staff was shocked at how many there were. Experts were called in to explain to the parents, and soon even those that were way behind were catching up to their peers.

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A few months later, the adults were wondering what was happening in the wizarding world, so Arthur and Molly volunteered to go and check up on friends they still had there. They tried to go to the Diggorys but found, via rumors in Diagon Alley, that they had moved to France, since they had family there.

Amos had moved the day the Burrow burned down. He couldn’t get in touch with the Weasleys or Lovegoods and feared the worst. He had no idea why the Weasleys were targeted, but he wanted no part of a society that would harm such nice people. He packed up the next day, quit his job, getting a better one in France, and hopped to the continent. Cedric was put out at first, but soon adjusted to Beauxbatons, where he hooked up with Fleur Delacour.

Arthur and Molly spent the whole day in the Alley. Businesses were raising prices to make ends meet. And there were quite a few less shoppers than one would normally see. They chatted with a few people they knew and confirmed that they were fine and happy where they were.

At one point, Arthur left Molly at the Leaky Cauldron, so he could slip into the Ministry. There he found, after listening in on a few conversations, hidden by a disillusionment charm and using his twins’ marvelous invention, the Extendable Ears, that there were plans on storming Downing Street.

Then, it was said, that once that was done, they would put all their efforts in finding Gobhan Caraidean’s, not that they knew the name, just called it ‘that blasted mudblood town’.

With this knowledge, he snuck away and went to get his wife. They returned home and he called the PM. He was thanked for the heads up and asked if Arthur learned when it would happen. He hadn’t.

The PM didn’t sit idle on this information. Departments were called and a sting operation was set up. Every ‘muggleborn’ parent was informed to stay on alert, and those in town were told to keep an ear out for further information.

No one knew when, but they knew how, and many people took precautions.

It was close to the Spring Equinox, that it happened. Fifty Magical Ministry employees appeared in front of Downing Street. Mostly dept heads, and quite a few Aurors. They didn’t even hide the fact that they Apparated in. They simply appeared, dressed in wizarding robes. Each had their wand drawn and were marching towards the building.

One by one they were taken. The Aurors were taken first, since it was felt that most of them were just following orders. It started from behind, using tranquilizer darts. A dozen agents would tranq them and then levitate them out of the way. None of them had a chance to give warning. Soon it was just a few left, including Fudge and Umbridge, who finally became aware that they were alone. However, they were filled with self-righteous indignation, so they continued on.

Right after they entered the building, many magical agents filled the streets. They were on camera cars holding video recorders, or mic booms, one was in a director’s chair with a bullhorn calling out orders, and the rest were dressed like a film crew.  They were all running around, moving things that looked like props, which had been set up a while ago.

They made everyone believe that it was all special effects and nothing weird was going on. A lot of people applauded, and then went about their day. It would get out, but it was explained as a publicity stunt. There was even a small news article, that wondered who was making such a realistic film. It petered out after a week or so, and it was speculated that it had run out of money.

The five that weren’t taken were immediately relieved of their wands and hustled, none too gently, to the PM’s office. They were then forced into chairs and handcuffed to the arms.

“You know, Fudge, I knew you were an idiot, but I didn’t think you were this stupid,” Major said, clapping his hands in mock appreciation. “I warned you that if you brought your mess here, that we would destroy you. Well, congratulations, sir, you are now being destroyed. Right at this moment, the minute you showed up, my troops got the orders to infiltrate your Ministry. They will systematically take apart each department, and then install agents to run those needed to keep necessary ones running,” he said, disdainfully. “Any that protest, or fight back, will be arrested and tried by a jury of their peers.” He stated all this with a serious face and there was no wiggle room in his eyes.

“The Wizengamot will never allow it,” blustered Fudge, sweating profusely. This had not gone as planned. They were supposed to be victorious. It was supposed to be easy. They were wizards, these were muggles. This was not supposed to happen.

“What Wizengamot?” Major said with a wicked grin, which made Fudge sweat more. “The Queen’s men will rule now. There is no Wizengamot,” he reiterated. That had been an easy coup d'état. Those old men and women hadn’t known what hit them. A few guns and they folded like cards.

“You can’t do that,” Umbridge shrieked, trying to stand, but couldn’t because of the handcuffs. She jerked her arm and then sprained her wrists trying to get out of the blasted things. “We have no peers,” she screamed, still trying to free her arms.

“Oh, but we can. Didn’t you read the treaty?” the PM asked, looking down on her like she was a squished bug on his shiny shoes. That made a happy picture.

“Of course not,” the pink woman snapped. “It is muggle stuff.” She finally gave up getting freed, and simply glared at everyone.

“Shut up, Dolores,” Fudge muttered, realizing just what a mess they were in.

Major sighed. “Do you hire stupid people to make you look good?” he asked Fudge. “For your information, ma’am, that treaty was signed many years ago. A vow was made, it’s been broken. You lost,” he sneered, then waved his hand to the agents by the door.

They didn’t need orders; they knew what to do. They uncuffed the five, recuffed their arms behind their backs and led them away. They were all tried and held for a few years, longer for those like Umbridge. They were then released, outside of Gobhan Caraidean to make their way as best they could. No one really cared what happened to them after that.

“What are the purebloods going to do now?” Patrick asked, slipping from under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. He was only there, because the PM thought since he was a major player in the new town, that he should be appraised on what was happening. While Patrick wasn’t a government employee, he did have political stance. If the man wanted, he could be voted Mayor in the next election.

“Most of them won’t be affected. Our agents will rule the government, get rid of old laws, and lay down new ones. The Aurors will be vetted, and those that truly uphold the law will stay. The others will be removed,” the PM said, turning his chair to face the other man.

“Oh, so you’re not going to drag them into this world?” Patrick wanted to know. That was a concern of his. He didn’t want the likes of them tarnishing what they had built.

“No, we’re simply going to let them go on about their business. If they step foot out of line, then we will put them in Gobhan Caraidean’s prison,” the other man stated, waving Patrick to a chair, which he took.

“Not Azkaban?” Mr. Finch-Fletchley wondered.

“No, I have people working on getting rid of the dementors, but it has stalled at the moment. There are talks of removing those in Azkaban, but some of our agents are not sure if it’s a good idea. There are higher ups that are concerned about the mental stability of the prisoners. They worry that they are not trained for them,” he explained, putting his head in his hands. This whole operation was a logistical nightmare. “We might have to create an insane asylum just for them.”

“Well, I’ll go inform the mayor what’s happened. Maybe he can set up people to help you with that,” Patrick offered, then nodded to everyone and took his leave.

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Patrick ported in and went to Town Hall. He met up with the mayor. “Good afternoon, Mayor Bradstone. I have news,” he said when he was shown in.

“Oh, did it happen today?” the Mayor asked, levitating a tea set to his desk.

“Yes, I was hoping it was today because I can’t take any more time off work. That and it’s really boring sitting in the PM’s office just waiting.” Patrick sighed then plucked the floating teacup out of the air and took a sip.

“Well, I thank you for your efforts. Tell me what happened, please?” Bradstone said, sitting back and listening to Mr. Finch-Fletchley’s recount. When the other man was done, he asked, “So they are in the jailhouse?”

“Yup, waiting for trial. Oh, and the PM wants to know if you have anyone working on Azkaban?” Patrick asked, hoping it was so. “He did say something about an asylum for the inmates. You might want to call him,” he added, putting down his cup.

“I’ll make a note,” the Mayor said, scribbling one right then.

“I need to go to the Magical MI5’s. I have a question that I need answered,” Patrick said as he stood.

“I hope you get something from them. They are pretty tightlipped,” Bradstone said, turning to his paperwork.

“Me too,” Patrick grumbled as he stepped on to the floating disk. He made his way up to the top of the building and asked the secretary if he could speak to someone in charge. She made a few phone calls and directed him to the boss’s office. He knocked when he got there and entered when bid.

“Ah, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, what can I do for you today?” the man behind the desk asked, getting up to shake hands.

“I have a question that has been bugging me,” he said, sitting after he shook the man’s hand.

“Oh, well, I’ll see if I can answer it,” the still unnamed man said, also sitting.

“It’s about what you took out of Harry, and the diary that the Weasley girl had,” Patrick said as vaguely as he could and still get his point across.

“Ah yes. I can tell you that we have destroyed the self-proclaimed Dark Lord. I cannot tell you more than that. Only that you don’t have to worry about Tom Riddle ever again. He has been completely annihilated,” the man said, sitting back in his chair and smiling smugly.

Patrick stared at the man’s face for a few moments, then smiled as well. “Thank you, that’s all I wanted to know,” he said, standing and shaking the man’s hand again. He then went home, kissed is wife and called Arthur to let him know as well. Yes, life was good.

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It was only a little while after school let out, that Dobby and many other house elves were bought by Gobhan Caraidean and Dags and freed. Too many purebloods needed money, either because their Head of House was dead or in prison, Death Eaters mostly, or because they lost money when Gringotts moved. Either way it was an easy transaction.

Many of the elves took up cleaning positions in the school and government, while others hired themselves out to families, via a shop they had opened.

Dobby was, of course, hired by Patrick to serve the boys. He kept his housekeepers, maids and cooks, but the boys were happy to have Dobby around. The little guy was in heaven, he got to serve the Great Harry Potter, and his family. Patrick made sure to tell him it was in thanks for what he had tried to do.

A lot of the good purebloods still in the old world, protected their children. Either by moving or pulling them from Hogwarts, where they were getting bullied, and homeschooling them. In hopes that they could get in Dags next year. There was a list of tutors that could be gotten from Dags with a simple request to the new ministry.

There were also pamphlets sent to those who wanted to migrate to Gobhan Caraidean. It let them know all they needed to know about the laws, the magic, and the inventions. They were informed that they had to conform, or they could not join. There was no way that Gobhan Caraidean was going to have Dark Lords/Ladies popping up every ten years or so.

If those that read the pamphlets agreed, then they were made to take vows to do their best to uphold the laws. Only the children were excused. It was hoped that the schooling they received would curb those who wanted to rule the world, or just make problems. They knew there would be those that fell through the cracks, but the law officers were hopefully trained enough to catch them quickly.

The Bones’ were one of these families. Susan had been attacked within a week of school and the offenders were not punished, because Snape had stopped anything nefarious from happening. That wasn’t good enough for Amelia. She took Susan out of the school, quit her job, hid her house, and tutored her niece. She was slotted to join the Gobhan Caraidean police force but had to undergo training.

This was a scene that played many times, and Hogwarts was at a minimal occupancy. As it was, they were relying on the new Ministry to keep them open. They even sent out missives that tuition was cut in hopes that some would return. Only a few did.

Percy had been determined to get a Ministry job. He had been upset that his family had moved away from where he felt he needed to be. And had made plans to move to Diagon Alley the moment he graduated. This never happened. He had to take a job at the new town hall and was regulated to clerk for a very long time.

The twins were not bullied the last year they were at Hogwarts, despite who their parents were and where their youngest siblings were being school. Only a fool would try, and when such a fool did… well, they never did it again. The twins didn’t care if they were punished, as long as the idiots left them alone.

They had formed a study group, on the sly, that helped those who wanted to test into Dags. It had been easy for them to sneak away, but not quite as easy for those who didn’t have a Marauder’s map. Still, they did what they could, with judicious use of owl post to the teachers at Dags on what to study.

The next year many students went to Dags, and the twins fit right in. They were only reprimanded once and graduated at the top ten of their class. They would go on to opening their joke shop and marrying well, giving Molly many grandchildren.

The rest of the Weasleys did just as well. Bill stayed with Gringotts; Charlie stayed with his dragons. Ron grew to be a good cook and opened a restaurant. Ginny got to join the only Quidditch team in Gobhan Caraidean, and married Dean Thomas, who decided to join politics.

Justin took up his dad’s business, banking. Patrick did run for Mayor and won. He was doing quite well. They still didn’t live in town but were now connected via Floo.

Sirius lived with Remus, never quite fully recovering from Azkaban, and the werewolf’s wife. They both had good jobs in town but could live off Sirius’ savings if they wanted. They were a major part of Harry’s life, but Harry stayed with the Finch-Fletchleys until he graduated.

Harry, well, he just wanted to get a job and settled down. He opened an orphanage, for those whose families were not happy at having a magical child. He married Hermione, who also went into politics, and had a few kids.

Neville took up herbology and botany and grew to teach at Dags. His gran and his parents fully recovered, and they all moved to town. It was a mansion, and quite big enough for everyone to live comfortably. He married well, and lived with his gran, and parents, like his family before him did, and the three children he had.

After her brush with death, his gran was remorseful of her treatment to him. She changed her ways and apologized. They had a teary reunion, but never got as close as they could have. Mr. Longbottom was aghast as to how his mother had treated his son, and he was standoffish to his mum.

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Time went on, and Gobhan Caraidean expanded. Soon there were only diehard purebloods left in the old world, and they were hermits. They never ventured out of their houses unless it was to get supplies. Some tried to revolt but were quickly shot down. The rest just hid in their manors and lived out their lives.

Diagon Alley had closed, the shops were torn down, and those that were smart moved to Gobhan Caraidean, taking the oaths that all the citizens did.  Those that didn’t, moved to more ‘amendable’ communities, like Bulgaria.

Diagon Alley, after the magicals left, was taken over as a training ground for covert agencies. Magical and non-magical alike. It was in cooperation with the UK and Gobhan Caraidean, and they both benefited from it.

Knockturn Alley was still there, hidden under many wards, and could only be accessible if you had the right connections. They were reputed by many, but they still had enough business to certain clienteles that they did okay. The PM’s agents raided the Alley a few times, but the stuff they sold wasn’t exactly illegal, just frowned upon. So, they let it be.

Hogwarts stayed open for five more years, but with all the purebloods fleeing, and the ‘muggleborn’ and half-bloods getting into Dags, well it just couldn’t afford to remain open. Dumbledore stayed until the very end.

He stood in the empty castle, a tear going down his face. This had been his home for many, many years, along with those professors that had just left. Many of them retiring, while other searched abroad for work. He looked at the bare walls and listened to the wind blowing through the hollow halls.

It was sad.

The government that Albus knew was gone. The ICW was still around, but he was not the representative of Britain anymore. He had been put to pasture.

As he stood there, he wondered where it all went wrong. He had such dreams of leading a utopia, and now it was out of his hands. He heard of the one the ‘muggleborns’ had created with such little effort and contemplated where he failed.

It was an old man with a heavy heart that closed a school that had stood proudly for a thousand years. No one ever found out what happened to Albus Dumbledore, but rumor had it he joined his old friend, Gellert Grindlewald in Nurmengard to live his final days.

The castle was later purchased by Gobhan Caraidean and turned into a college. Hogsmeade stayed the same, though they did update a bit, still it was a nice cozy town the students could still enjoy.

And Gringotts, well they were happy to have such a wonderful society as clients. Yeah, the friendly smiling faces of the people who used their bank left them grinning.

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I posted a one-shot on a different version of Hermione’s first time in the Alley. It’s just a bit of fun, and a bit crackish. It’s called Grinning Goblins: Hermione’s Alternative Turn.

Rewrite 10/03/24: I added a few paragraphs and corrected many mistakes.

Chapter Text

I have updated the chapters on this story if you want to go back and see how they flesh out better. I haven’t changed the story line but cleaned it up a bit. There were some glaring plot holes that I have hopefully plugged.

I posted this same note on Back At Ya, because I did the same thing. I’m going through my old stories and listening to them and fixing errors. I’m trying to get my groove back. My muse has gone walkabout. If you see her, tell her to get her butt back home.

I had posted this note on this story on accident before. It was supposed to go on Back At Ya. Sorry for the confusion. However, I have finished editing this one now.