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Chapter 3 - A spoonful of sugar

The next morning, Healer Goosecreature announced that Harry could leave the bed. Of course, along with that permission came a whole slew of instructions for care, prescribed potions, admonitions to them both to 'take things easy', and one final point. "Mr. Potter," the old healer said. "Please, as afavor for an old man, please get that leg looked at by a specialist when you can. It will be usable, and it will get stronger, but you will always limp very badly until it is rebuilt." He sniffed, wiping his nose loudly on his sleeve. "I wish I were a better healer, I really do, I feel terrible about letting you go with a disability--"

"Healer Goosecreature--" began Harry.

"Call me Goose, everybody does."

"Very well, Goose; and you must call me Harry," he replied, causing the healer to look up sharply. "You and Dobby saved my life, without adoubt. I don't think I would have lasted another night on that floor since, as you pointed out, my lungs were filling with blood. I'm a difficult guy in many ways, but I'm not stupid. There are many things going on in my life right now. Horrible things. So please believe me when I say that every decision is being weighed very carefully. There is no way I can allow the government to take control of my life again. And the moment I stepped into a major hospital like St. Mungo's, I would be under Fudge's thumb, and probably for the rest of my miserable, short life."

Harry put his hand on Goose's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "I know your healer oaths are safe, so I won't insult you by asking you to keep it a secret. But my house elf will not allow you to leave before we have settled your bill. You have left us with a lot of expensive potions. At least let me cover your expenses?"

Shortly thereafter, Dorsey Goosecreature aka Goose left the hotel room. He was carrying much more money than he thought he was worth, and much less than Harry had wanted to give him.

Still standing in the middle of the room, Harry looked around, thinking. "Dobby?"

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"I think I need a place of my own. I obviously don't live with the Dursleys anymore, and I don't feel like rattling around in a giant empty castle all summer. What do you normally do all summer?"

"Dobby sometimes is told to helps out at the Black house," said the elf, looking down. He didn't say anything, but Harry could tell very easily that Dobby didn't like being there.

"Well," Harry said gently, "There's no way on Earth I'm going to spend a summer in that hoary old dump -- especially with a traitorous elf, Kreature, and that idiotic painting. I mean, really! What kind of a person would it take to sit for hours painting acareful, lovingly-crafted magical portrait of an insane old harridan?" He was grinning, though Dobby was not.

"Okay then, mate." Dobby perked up at that. "One thing we definitely need to work out is how to stay free. As I see it, the only way that's going to happen is if nobody knows where we are. Something like the /Fidelius/would be good. Any ideas?"

Dobby was thoughtful for a moment, then perked up and said, "Goblins! Goblins make some of the best wards, Master Harry Potter sir." He forgot, in his excitement, the new shortened form of address agreed upon.

"Parchment and ink, Dobby," Harry said, getting caught up in the excitement. "Hedwig, are you up for a trip to London?" The snowy owl jumped from her perch and half-flapped over to the table; obviously just as ready to get started.

Harry zipped off a quick note to the goblins.

Dear Ragnok,

I am in need of an escape, of sorts.

Dobby has reminded me that goblins are widely-known for their high-security wards, and I know that Gringott's handles sale of wizarding real estate. Could you give me the name of someone with whom to speak at the bank, who would be knowledgeable in these matters?

Please let me know when it would be convenient to meet with your designee.

Yours in good business,

Harry Potter

Caressing Hedwig's head, he opened the window to let her out into the morning air. "There, that should get things going. Dobby, I'm going to find someplace to live where there are no Dursleys, no Dumbledore, no teachers, and I'm going to spend some time finding out about this wizarding world of ours. What do you think?"

"Dobby thinks Master Harry looks happy, Master Harry."

"That's because I just figured it out, you know? I just... figured it out. What I have to do. And you helped me, Dobby." Maybe I just needed a non-judgmental sounding board. Or an insane hero-worshipper. "I'm going to get my own place. I'm going to take charge of my life. You're going to have a whole house to take care of, and we're going to get to live life right, for a change."

***

At 2 minutes before 10am, as requested by Ragnok, Harry stood in the lobby at Gringott's, looking around from beneath the hood of his cloak. It was too warm in June for a cloak, but he didn't know how to cast glamour charms on himself. Yet. So he wore a cloak, and cast the much-simpler cooling charm on himself. He got a few strange looks for being dressed so mysteriously, but he didn't see anybody recognize him.

He stood with the aid of a staff; a knobbly stick with a knob at chin level. Dobby had found it for him and dried and polished it. Not only did it make a strong support for his bad limp, but he thought it looked very 'wizardly'. It's just a stick of wood, but nobody else needs to know that, do they? With his features covered, his staff, and his painful gait, anybody seeing him would think he was at least triple his real age -- which was precisely the effect he sought.

He played up his limp for a little more effect, walked up to the high head-teller desk, saying, "Good sir, I have an appointment with Ragnok at 10. Could you kindly direct me?"

He was taken by a goblin who was not introduced into avery well-appointed office, to wait. The wait wasn't very long; at precisely 10 o'clock, the oldest goblin Harry had ever seen stepped into the room.

"Mr. Potter."

"Mr. Ragnok?"

"Just Ragnok, young man. That is my full name."

"Then, please call me Harry, sir."

"Mr. Po-- Harry, before we begin, I have aquestion for you." Harry nodded. "Why are you so polite to goblins?"

Harry was taken aback. "But... how else would one deal with other beings? Since I was asking for help, shouldn't I ask politely?"

Harry heard a rumble, like gravel dropped onto a bass drum. Looking around in alarm, the noise got louder until he realized that Ragnok was laughing. Before he could take offense, Ragnok said,"Well met, young human! Well met indeed. A great many members of your so-called 'high society' would do well to learn that. Now, to more weighty business.

"I heard about your godfather's passing, and we at Gringott's would like to express condolences for your loss."

"Thank you," said Harry quietly, not looking away. I bet very few people get condolences from the head goblin, thought Harry, but I am not going to sit here simpering and stammering like a little kid.

"Harry, do you have legal counsel?"

"No, that was one of the things I was going to ask your help in finding."

"Hmph," grunted the goblin. "I don't normally... no, that won't work. Since you are not yet of age, it would really be in your best interests to get yourself some legal counsel before we continue."

"I imagine that would be a good idea, but Iwouldn't know where to start," said Harry. Does the wizarding world have a Yellow Pages? "I should like very much to get a better handle on what is going on in my life. If you think a lawyer is a good place to start, it's just..."

"Yes, young Harry?"

"Well, I can't really think of a delicate way to put this, so I'll just say it. Whoever I have for my legal advice cannot be actively connected with the Ministry, Dumbledore, or the Order of the Phoenix."

Ragnok looked a little relieved at that, as if he had been hoping the same thing. "I assure you that won't be a problem, Harry. No matter who your solicitor is, they are required by law to keep your business private, and can lose their license to practice law if they are found to divulge your secrets."

"Heh," half-laughed Harry before he could stop himself. "Perhaps, but you and I know how 'secrets' have a way of finding their way into the ears of those people. This is critical for me, sir."

"Very well. It would not be fitting for me to just provide you with one -- a man cannot effectively serve two masters, you know -- but I can call a very good one. Let's see if he's available, shall we?" Ragnok touched a maroon stone on his sash, and the door immediately opened. A short exchange in gobbledygook, and the other goblin was on his way.

***

Over two hours later, Harry was still in the conference room at the bank, but he was having the time of his life. Under the careful guidance of of Cyril Thynne, of the soliciting firm of Rumpo, Lipharvest and Thynne, Harry had atidy little stack of parchments in front of him.

Dobby refilled their cool drinks as Thynne said,"Right, then; let's recap. You are, as of fifteen minutes ago, an emancipated male under old wizarding law. Since you are the only surviving Potter, the law states that there can never be a time when there is no head of a noble family, until such time as the family dies out completely. Right. As the only surviving heir to the Potter line, you are automatically the head of the family in the eyes of the law, and therefore automatically an adult in the eyes of the law. Right. Rather like the old feudal days, when infant princes would become king in Europe. With me so far?"

Harry nodded readily, sipping at his glass of juice. "Right," he couldn't help adding.

"Right, er... yes, well. There is no need to notify anyone except the bank, as it's nobody else's business unless you want it to be. Your signature on this document was recorded in Gringott's vaults, and the bank has now been officially notified. You are now Lord Harry Potter, and you would have been a baron -- but the peerage laws were changed to make it so the title'baron' is no longer inherited.

"The Potter lands are varied in type, and most are smallish, having less than an acre. You do own a farm near Suffolk, a... this can't be right... a gas mantle factory near London... let me check that." Thynne shuffled through several stacks of parchment, before going on. "You may wish to have someone check that for you. It appears to be correct -- on paper, at least.

"The rest of your lands and properties are on this list. Please have your financial adviser go through them with you. Do you have any questions so far?"

"No, please go on," said Harry.

"Right," Thynne continued, not noticing Harry's grin at his habit. "With the passing of Sirius Black, normally the title and family leadership would pass to older members of the family. But Lord Black was quite specific in the wording of his will, and had his solicitors spend quite a bit of time to make it air-tight. The will of the deceased always trumps tradition, except where it violates the law -- which, in this case, it does not.

"That means that you are now Lord Black as well. Not only does that come with automatic adulthood, as your parents' will does, but Mr. Black specifically stated in his will that you were to be emancipated upon his death. He didn't give a reason, and the law didn't require him to give one. This is not the first time someone has inherited two house names, so there is precedent under law. You may consider yourself Lord Potter, or Black, or Potter-Black, or Black-Potter, or any combination you choose. None of it matters; only when doing official family business, you must use the official name of that family. Right?"

"Right," Harry said. I bet the paperwork is a mess, but the gist of it is really quite simple to grasp, he thought.

"Be sure and have a solicitor at hand on those family law occasions where both Potter and Black are to be present, such as meetings of the Wizengamot; the Potter and Black estates and families could potentially have legal complaints against each other, and you'll need someone to protect you from yourself." Thynne grinned wryly at this, taking pleasure in his own little joke before continuing. "This has a list of all Black lands and properties that belong to you now. Finally, this is a synopsis of your cash holdings in the Potter and Black vaults."

Harry held in his hands the highlights-only lists of things to be considered. "Mr. Thynne," he began, "I know I just came into a red-hot pile of valuable commodities. Right now, I know just about enough to get my own quills and robes for school, with a little left over for Hedwig. I am grateful that both families thought so much of me." He paused for a moment, thinking of his parents and Sirius. "I don't need much to get on with my life, but I do know that somebody is going to try to take advantage of my inexperience. I need financial protection, and some advice on how not to lose it all."

"Mr. Potter, normally your solicitor would be worried about conflicts of interest, probate restrictions, and torts, and would hesitate to suggest it. But my firm also handles that sort of business. If you would like, I can get my firm started on an in-depth financial analysis of your holdings. Is it your intent to continue to use our firm for your legal advice?"

"For now, yes. You have been very helpful."

"I'm glad, Mr. Potter. And may I say that you have been a lot more attentive than Iexpected when I came in?"

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry.

"Good. Just in case, here is a copy of our fee structure," said Thynne, handing over a heavy-bond embossed sheet. Before Harry could mention it, he continued, "I know, I know... it's all a bit of a mish-mash to you at the moment. If you are amenable, we'll just get started on some preliminary digging, and we'll keep in touch with you and go from there."

The two stood, shaking hands, and Dobby gave Mr. Thynne a parchment with Harry's owl delivery address on it.

***

Back at his rented room, Harry spent the next few days finding out just how much there was to find out. He put the house-hunting on hold long enough to go through the list of the houses and lands he already owned -- and he was certainly glad he'd waited! Sirius, you old hound!

"Dobby! I'll need my cloak-and-staff disguise. Feel like going along on a trip today?"

In very short order, Harry was popped to Gringott's by Dobby, met by Thynne, whooshed through the floo network to the Post Office in Hogsmeade -- all without being recognized. Harry stood with Dobby and Cyril Thynne on a hill on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Just ahead of them was the mouth of the cave where Sirius had hidden from the ministry before moving to Grimmauld Place.

Rather than becoming dejected at the thought of his dead godfather, he rejoiced in learning of a great prank! Oh, now Sirius must have danced with glee to pull this one over. You trickster, you fooled us all... good on ya'. Smiling, Harry walked into the cave, and stood at the designated spot. Pricking his finger, he smeared a drop of blood on the low back wall, saying, "I am Lord Harry Black."

That's all it took. /Trust Sirius to keep things simple, /he thought, as the back wall shimmered to reveal a door. Harry looked calmly at Thynne, who said nothing and gestured that he should continue. When Harry grasped the doorknob and turned, the door moved outward instead of in as one might expect. It didn't take long for him to figure out that it was for defense. Much harder to break in that way.

Entering the property first, he stood in a tidy vestibule. On his right was a coat rack, to his left a mirror. The floor was black and white checkerboard. He heard his companions step up behind him. "Mr. Potter," began the lawyer, reading from his paperwork. "There are 5 rooms beyond this entry: kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, sitting room, and library. Right. The kitchen larder and library are charmed to be as big or small as they need to be." He flipped the page over a couple times, looking confused. "Right. This document says that there is another exit, but its location is not given."

Walking through the efficient little place, Harry was struck by how it was set up for comfort. There were windows that were charmed to show views of the outdoors, as if this were a regular house. It was five minutes walk from Hogsmeade, and any supply he was likely to need. It felt... calm. /I could do with a little calm,/he thought.

Thynne informed him that he wouldn't have to speak every time he came, and that he could see the door any time now. There was no need for a key, as the door remained a stone barrier unless he was touching the knob.

"Very well, Mr. Thynne. I can check out some of my other properties some other time. This one will do nicely for the moment. Do you need anything from me before I make arrangements to move in? Nothing for me to sign? No? Then thank you, sir, for all your help." Harry gestured to the door, and Thynne and Dobby preceded him out.

Thynne apparated out after shaking hands. On to more important things, no doubt, thought Harry. I need to remember to find out how much all this service is costing me. "Dobby, take us back to the hotel room, please," he spoke. "We have things to do."

Back at the hotel, it didn't take much time at all to pack, pay his bill, transfer his anonymous owl service box to the Hogsmeade Post Office, and be back in his new home. Joyful yet subdued, he gave instructions to his house elf, getting on with the business of living his own life.