FicWad

Harry let out a long sigh as the laughter died away. "Well, on to it, then." He frowned for a moment, then said, "Hermione, you wouldn't happen to have a rubber band or a hair band or something, would you?"

That only got a blink from the female side of the conversation. "Yes, I think so. But why do you need one? It's not like your hair is very long."

"I figured I might need some kind of disguise," Harry said. He lifted his wand and tapped his own head, uttering the color-change charm and shifting his own hair color to a dark red.

Hermione froze and frowned. "That's not a Weasley color, but it looks familiar. Why?"

"It's my Mum's hair color," Harry said, tapping his head again, this time with a hair-thickening/growing charm. He waited until his hair had grown down to mid-back and forward to completely cover his forehead, and asked, "So, how do I look?"

"Strange," Hermione responded, speculatively.

"Gee, thanks," Harry said back, but his lips were twitching in amusement.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Hermione huffed. "I'm just not used to looking at you like this. But, at least I understand why you wanted the band." She'd collected a hair band from her pocket to hand to the Boy-Who-Grew-Hair. It was kind of girly, but that would only contribute to the disguise.

In point of fact, Harry DID look a lot like his mother at that moment. Most of the time, people said that he looked like his father, but with red hair down to mid-back and his mother's eyes, he'd likely really give some people a shock. And that was probably intentional, as well as him paying homage to her.

"I'm going to need to have ahold of you to do this," Harry said. He extended his hand out, having slipped two fingers into the hair band. He gave a mocking half-bow, "Shall we dance?"

Hermione giggled a little at that, and placed her hand in Harry's own, slipping two fingers into the band as well, and twining their fingers.

Harry said, "You should probably close your eyes. This can be a bit unpleasant."

Showing her trust, Hermione did just that. For a moment, the image of Myrtle kissing Harry popped back into her head, and she realized that she was feeling more than a hint of jealousy. This was shattered as she felt Harry tap her head with his wand, followed by the feeling of something cold and wet trickling down her back.

"Don't open your eyes yet," Harry's voice warned, hand moving to settle behind her back and on her hip (as in the standard dance position). "Because here we go." He mouthed the word 'Portus' and stared at the hair band as it turned blue, then activated.

Hermione felt as though a hook just behind her navel had been jerked forward, carrying her with it. That's a portkey! Where the hell did he get a portkey?! She could feel the howl of the wind passing by, even as Harry cinched in his hold almost protectively. Or perhaps she was just reading into that. Her feet slammed into the ground and she almost staggered, except that Harry hadn't released his hold. He turned it into a whirl and there was a loud cracking sound, a sensation of being forced through a very tight tube, and then another loud cracking sound. What the hell was THAT?

"Just another moment," Harry said. Once again, the tap on the head, and this time it felt like something hot was running down her back. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Hermione did just that, and then was forced to squint. The light level was much higher here, and the place was very different. But that was to be expected: why use a portkey if you weren't going a significant distance? But this...? "Where are we?"

"An alley off Charing Cross Road, down the block from the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said. "I figured it would be a good idea if we were seen coming in off the street than just appear directly in Diagon Alley." He grinned. "I need to do some shopping."

"Okay," Hermione said, and looked down at herself. At least she was dressed in something that didn't look overtly like something from the wizarding or muggle world; she wouldn't really draw attention in either. For that matter, Harry's clothes wouldn't either, but he would have known what to dress for. Unfortunately, her curiosity was popping up again. "So, what was that? I mean, I recognized the feeling of the portkey, but what was that other stuff?"

Harry paused for a long moment, and said, "Better you don't know. Plausible deniability and all that, at least until you can occlude your mind. Look at it this way, you can tell people I kidnapped you, if it comes to that!"

"Harry! I'd never do that!"

Harry grinned toothily, taking a moment to wrap the hair band around his hair, making the newly-longer hair into a pony-tail. "So, how do I look?"

Hermione considered Harry thoughtfully. While she wasn't the fashion aficionado that Lavender or Parvati were, she could at least tell when something clashed or not. "Like a younger version of Bill Weasley?"

Harry grinned at that, "That's cool. Bill's usually a good guy." He began to make his way out towards the street. "Actually, if you need to call me and don't want to ruin who I am, call Barney Weasley." Gods know I've been called that before. "Or, even better, Bernie. That's a name that could be male or female. C'mon, let's go."

Harry and Hermione made it to the Leaky Cauldron with no issues, and Hermione passed through to the rear without waiting. Harry, however, stopped to talk to Tom, the barman, for several minutes. When Harry finally rejoined Hermione, he was grinning almost evilly.

"What?" she asked.

"No-thing...," Harry responded, but still grinning. This only produced a frustrated breath of air from Hermione, as she pressed the bricks to allow them entrance.

"First to Gringotts," Harry said. "I need money to buy stuff." But he did, once again, offer his arm to Hermione, to walk with her. Hermione rolled her eyes, but took his arm.

Gringotts was as impressive as it usually was, but Harry didn't dawdle, almost pulling Hermione along. At this time on a Saturday morning, the bank was not particularly busy. In point of fact, most of Diagon Alley wasn't particularly busy. Which made it a good time for inconspicuous shopping, and Harry wanted to get right to it.

When they got to the desk, Harry took a deep breath and released Hermione's arm. He straightened up, and said, imperiously, "I am Harry Potter. Time is money. I'm not going to waste yours, so don't waste mine. I want an escort to my vault to make a withdrawal, and when I get back, I want to speak to the goblin in charge of the Potter family accounts. Tell him or her that I expect copies of all access and transaction logs for all accounts going back to January 1980, and a complete family asset list if it is available."

The goblin stared over the counter at Harry, but he didn't back down, not in attitude or posture. "Key?" Which Harry produced. "Looks like this is in order. I will have someone take you down to the vault." He rang a bell, calling for an escort.

When the escort arrived, Harry very nearly jumped him in anger. Only Hermione's presence - and the fact that Griphook hadn't betrayed them in this world yet - stopped him. Still, he probably held Hermione's hand a bit tighter than he meant to, if the looks she gave him were any indication.

Harry relaxed slightly during the ride in the vault cart, and Hermione asked, whispering directly in his ear over the sound of their movement. "So, what was all that back there?"

Harry grimaced apologetically, "Sorry about that. It's usually best to approach goblins completely in business mode. They respect you more if you don't waste their time, so saying it outright like that means you know what they want. Plus, you know, just sitting around in a bank - not all that much fun."

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said. "Though it's good information to have."

"Later," Harry said, as the cart slowed to a stop. It didn't take long, and it did give Hermione her first look at the contents of Harry's vault, and the mounds of gold, silver, and bronze coins within. Then they were back on the way back up topside, and Harry allowed himself to enjoy the ride.

Halfway there, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, once again directly into his ear, "That's your family vault?! I've never seen so much gold at once!" Suddenly, she began to understand Ron's occasional jealousy on the issue. Not agree, but, at least, understand.

"No!" Harry replied, nearly falling into Hermione as the cart whipped around the corner. "That's my vault. I'll explain once we're off this crazy thing!"

Which didn't take long. Harry gave thanks to Griphook, but no tip (because goblins considered that an insult, even if they were greedy as all hell) and let them return. Harry went on to explain. The first three words were said softly, so as to make it less likely to be overheard. "In most worlds, while the Evanses are muggles, the Potters are an old-line Wizarding family, the same as the Weasleys, the Blacks, the Malfoys, and several others. The Blacks are actually the oldest of those four, I think, but I also think the Potters and Blacks are related. Probably the Malfoys and Weasleys too. Actually, the whole pure-blood Wizarding World is kind of inbred, as I recall. Part of why it's so backwards, I suppose." He paused, thinking. "I wonder if I might be able to find the Black and Potter family tapestries. That might have some useful information I could use."

He shook his head and went back to the previous topic, his voice quieting. "Some families are aligned with mostly lightside magics. The Potters and the Weasleys are two of those, usually. Some families are aligned with mostly darkside magics. The Blacks and Malfoys are examples of those. And then there are neutral families. Daphne's family, the Greengrasses, usually are neutral. Of course, this is all based on information from other worlds, but that's the average scenario." He looked ahead to where an extremely well-dressed goblin was waiting for them. "And I'd guess the part about the Potters is true, at least."

"Mister Potter, I am Nukmak, the manager responsible for the Potter family vaults. This way." No 'please' or anything like that, but Harry was unsurprised.

Harry was led to an office towards the back. When Hermione hesitated, Harry would have none of it, merely taking her arm and pulling her along with him. He handed her off to a seat and then settled into his own, taking the papers Nukmak handed him wordlessly. He took a few moments to peruse the information. "All right. For this account, I need a few things done. First, remove Albus Dumbledore's access and remove all notifications." This got a blinking reaction from Hermione, who couldn't figure out why Professor Dumbledore needed access in the first place, but Harry wasn't done. "If the Headmaster needs Potter monies, he can talk to me about it first and I will get it for him. All notifications and statements should now be directed to me by post."

"Done," Nukmak said, making a notation on his pad.

He flipped a page. "I want to buy a new safe, to be attached to my account. Use the smallest one, and the interest rate I'll leave up to you to set. Transfer one galleon per week into this new safe as principle."

Nukmak made another note, and nodded. "The key should be ready by the end of business today."

"Very good," Harry said. "Next, add an access to my account. Name: Granger, Hermione."

Hermione jumped. She hadn't actually been listening, mostly because she was bored, but also because she considered Dumbledore's access to Harry Potter's account something of a puzzle to work out. "Wait? What about me?"

But the goblin didn't stop, still addressing Harry. "Limit?"

"Free access, one hundred galleons per month. More only with authorization from myself." Harry said. "Unless I die, in which case, full access."

Hermione froze, then asked, her voice tight, "What? What are you doing, Harry?"

Harry looked over at Hermione, and grinned evilly, then looked back at the goblin, who asked, "To clarify, you are naming Miss Granger as your effective heir?"

"WHAT?!" Hermione screeched.

"Yes," Harry said, only wincing a little at the loud voice right next to his head. "At least until such a time as I can contact my family barrister and swear out an actual Will. Do you have a listing for him or her?"

"It's included with your family assets listing," Nukmak replied, then finally turned towards Hermione. He extended a gnarled hand and ordered, peremptorily, "Hand."

Hermione extended her hand on automatic, staring at Harry like she'd never seen him before, when she felt a prick of a needle. "Ow!" It really wasn't all THAT painful, but more of a surprise. Though the goblin squeezing a drop of blood out of her finger onto a marking pen did sting a bit more.

Harry pulled out his wand and casually waved it over Hermione's finger when she pulled her hand back, "Episkey." The wound sealed with barely a thought. "And, later," he said to her, indicating his explanation.

The goblin used the blood-marked pen to make a note, and said, "Done. This key will also be ready by end of business today."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Please mark the first key with a 'W' on it, and this key with an 'H' and a 'G'. Now, about my family vaults?"

"You cannot access your family vaults until you are seventeen...," Nukmak said.

"Seventeen specifically, or when I'm a legal adult?" Harry asked, interrupting.

"Well, the latter, actually," the goblin replied.

"Very well," Harry said. "Watch for that to come sooner rather than later, probably through the muggle system. Now, the asset listing and logs?" His tone was carefully designed to sound impatient for delays, which was productive, since the paperwork was turned over immediately.

"Remove Albus Dumbledore from the access list," Harry said.

"You cannot access your family vaults until you are a legal adult," Nukmak repeated. "That includes making access changes."

Harry snarled - or, at least seemed to. He'd dealt with many goblins over his time, and knew how to act appropriately. Hermione, for her part, had gone quiet again, now trying to figure out why Harry had just made her, of all things, his heir.

Then he really DID snarl. "Remove Peter Pettigrew's limited access to my family accounts." Hermione let out a gasp.

"You cannot access your family vaults until you are a legal adult," Nukmak repeated once again.

"Use the family betrayal override," Harry said, not backing down at all. "Peter Pettigrew is responsible for the deaths of my parents."

Nukmak stared at Harry for a long moment, wondering how Harry even knew of those clauses. It wasn't his business to ask, though. He just made a note on his pad. "Done. Will that be all?"

Harry paused for a moment, "Yes, though I will want to know which of these properties are muggle and which are wizarding at some point." He looked over at Hermione for a moment, then back at Nukmak. "And can we have the room for a few minutes?"

The goblin stood and merely walked out the door, allowing it to click shut behind him. It was a tacit acceptance of the request - and an indication that he wasn't going to waste time, his or otherwise.

Harry turned in his chair to look at Hermione. He leaned forward, reached across, and took her hands. "Now, you had a question?"

Hermione looked up, "Why? Why me? And why... why are you thinking about your own death so, so unemotionally?" There were the faint tracks of tears on her face.

Harry was quiet for a long moment before answering. "I can think of it so unemotionally because it's happened to me before, several times. As for why you? Well, in very few worlds are you the one to betray me. It might have to do with the lack of friends before Hogwarts... yes, don't be surprised that I know that... or it might be just not generally in your nature, but the only times I don't trust you is when you let your obsessions get strong enough to block everything else out. And even that generally doesn't happen for at least a couple more years, as timelines go."

He went on, explaining, "I have to have an heir, or with my death, my family monies and properties revert. Usually to the closest male relative, and since I don't know my family tree here, that's not a chance I'm willing to take. Draco could, for example, end up with everything my family owns. And that would be bad. That's not even including the free-for-all that would probably happen as 'relatives' come out of the woodwork to make claims. And probably at least half of it would end up in Ministry hands instead."

"Come on, cheer up, okay? By doing this, I'm saying that I trust you not to abuse what I've given you." He smirks. "And, at the same time, I'm taking a swipe at the pure-blood idealists. If I die, and you are a legal adult, you would become a noblewoman - either Lady Granger or Lady Potter, if you chose to adopt the name - your choice. And wouldn't that tweak the noses of them all? It'd be a last prank on the Wizarding world on my part."

Hermione laughed, but it wasn't a very mirthful sound, and Harry didn't expect it to be. He also wasn't expecting Hermione to throw herself at him and hug him, but she did, and he probably should have. "Just... just, don't die, okay?" she cried into his shirt. "If you die, I'll find you and drag you back. Or... or... or when I die, I'll haunt you!"

Okay, now she was just babbling, but that was fine. Harry rubbed her back gently, "I'll try not to, Hermione. But, remember, I'm fighting a monster here. There's just no other word for him. In many cases, I've survived only through sheer luck. But the me that you see now is a lot more capable, a lot stronger. Even then, I don't assume that I'm going to win, so I plan for the worst. You okay? Huh? Hermione?"

Hermione lifted her face from Harry's chest, and nodded, settling back on her chair. Her eyes were puffy, and there were definite tear tracks there this time. Harry plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her to help her clean herself up.

"Once you're ready, we still have things to do today," Harry said, standing and offering Hermione a hand up, which she took. A quick scourgify cleaned up the handkerchief, and Harry repocketed it. They quickly made their way out of the bank.

"And next, off to Ollivander's!" Harry put his arm around Hermione's waist. He told himself that it was because she was probably feeling a little fragile, but part of him knew that was a lie. Just like every other time it had been.