FicWad

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, ideas, and situations created by JK Rowling and owned by her and her publishers. I own the original elements & characters. No money is being made by me, and no trademark or copyright infringement is intended.


Chapter I
Three Days After the Final Battle




Percy Weasley approached Hermione Granger, who was quietly eating breakfast by herself at the foot of what had once been the Slytherin table. Near the staff table, Ron and a number of Sixth and Seventh year DA students were arguing with the professors that, since no Slytherin student had stayed to defend Hogwarts, the House should be dissolved and the Slytherin fifth and sixth years, at the least, be 'sent down', ie expelled so that they could not return.

The professors were, in turn, pointing out that of those students who had stayed and fought for the fallen Dark Lord, only half had been Slytherin. All those students were facing charges, and would at least be expelled. Most Slytherins had been neutral. O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s started that very day, and the neutral Slytherins were in effect punishing themselves.

Hermione really didn't care at the moment (although she knew she should), and was trying to enjoy her oatmeal. While she knew, in the short term, she would be occupied in finding her parents and restoring their memories -- and no doubt giving many many explanations -- she was unsure of her medium term plans, let alone her long-term ones.

What were left of her possessions, taken when she had been captured, had been returned the previous day. The previous evening, some of the rewards she, Harry, and Ron would receive had been announced. Amongst those rewards, they had been awarded N.E.W.T.s in their fields of study. While Ron was overjoyed, Hermione was not pleased. She knew, now that she could not return to Hogwarts to complete her final year, there would always be little gaps in her knowledge.

Harry had fallen between the two opinions, acknowledging Hermione was correct, but basically glad he wouldn't have to bother with the exams themselves.

"Miss Granger?" Percy inquired. While his family had welcomed him back unquestioned, in part because of the loss of Fred, Percy knew that neither Hermione nor Harry was as willing to fully forgive those who had stayed neutral until the end, or in his case, had been somewhat neutral until very near the end.

"Yes?" Hermione replied, then sipping some tea.

"Would you know where Mister Potter is?"

"No," she replied. She didn't know his exact whereabouts, after all.

Percy frowned. "No idea at all?"

"Not really," she answered. She also didn't think she owed anyone any answers.

"Well, when did you last see him?" he demanded, attracting some attention.

"Last night, when we all separated to go to sleep." She calmly ate more oatmeal.

"Did he say where he might be this morning? I can't find him."

"No," Hermione replied. "He didn't say where he was going, or where, last night."

"Going!" Percy shouted. This attracted everyone's attention.

Hermione swallowed more oatmeal and said, "Yes, going. You informed us that the so-called 'neutrals' would not be punished, and that included people like Madam Umbridge, who sent the Muggle-born off to be tortured or killed. So, Harry left this morning. I need to speak to Professor Flitwick, and then I'll be off as well."

"Off where?" Ron demanded, striding over.

"Off across the world, to find my parents," Hermione said simply, but raising her voice so everyone could hear. "It's quite clear that the Pure-Blood bigotry which has always dominated the Wizarding world in Britain will once again just be toned down a bit to where it was before Voldemort" everyone still shivered at the name and glanced around, just in case some fanatic would appear to enforce the taboo "made it a tad worse this past year."

"Now, Hermione. . . ."

"Don't you 'now, Hermione' me, Ron Weasley!" Hermione snapped, standing up. "I was tortured for being a Muggle-born, and apparently only those who actually wore the Dark Mark will be punished! There are many many more who should be, and I don't just mean animals like Greyback." She slapped her spoon down. "Never mind." She looked around and proclaimed, "Many of you fought to end the oppression and terror of the last year. Well, unless you change British wizarding culture, you're just biding time until the next Pure-Blood lunatic comes along to start it all over again. You can't go back to the status quo, because that's what caused the problem in the first place!"

She picked up her handbag and her pack, and strode out of the great hall. Ron, despite his much longer stride, had a difficult time trying to catch up to her, which wasn't all that surprising, considering the size of the breakfast he had eaten. He lost her at the ward boundary, when she disapparated.

Stunned at her departure, Ron turned around and saw that most of the staff, remaining students, and the others who had been present had followed them as well. "How do I get to Australia?" Ron demanded.

"You don't," Percy answered. "The International Confederation blockaded all magical travel out of the country at the end of last August. She'll be back."

"Somehow, I don't think so," McGonagall said thoughtfully. "In any case, she was right. Many of us, perhaps most of us, did things which were morally wrong, as we did our best to survive and even do some good along the way. I confess that I did. However, in doing so, I was not merely serving my own survival, but doing my best to help the students. I did not do as good a job as I should have. That is still different from those who whole-heartedly aided the Dark Lord's regime, and even served it enthusiastically."

"First of all, at least for those in the Ministry, they were only following orders," Percy said stiffly. "Secondly, how can we really tell who was enthusiastic at work yet aiding the resistance as well? I supplied my father a great deal of information after Minister Scrimgeour's death, and later slipped Bill information as well. Can we really prove who knew I was doing so and yet turned a blind eye to what I was doing? To what my father and others were doing? We can't give truth potions to everyone, now can we?"

"Your second point may have some validity," McGonagall answered. "As for the first, obeying an immoral order is an immoral act. Those who were enthusiastically supporting the regime will have to be punished in some ways, even if those who merely kept doing their old jobs in the same old way probably can't be. And yes, I think everyone at the Ministry should be so examined."

From the crowd noises, Percy could tell they agreed. He would report what happened this morning to the Acting Minister, and he and his new advisors would have to figure this out. In the end, it was very fortunate that all the Marked Death Eaters had been killed or captured. Percy would not have been surprised to know that the Ministry of Magic would in near-complete disarray until late in August. In the end, a 'Truth and Reconciliation Committee', set up in late June and which operated through the next year, helped restore internal order.

All the unMarked Ministry employees would have to testify under truth potions. Nearly a third, such as Delores Umbridge, wound up being dismissed or at least retired early, while a quarter of the remaining would never be promoted -- some were even put back to whatever grade they had held before Voldemort's takeover. The fifth who had quit or been imprisoned were restored with back pay. In addition, new guidelines and competitive entrance exams were instituted for most positions (only the aurors had previously had anything similar, and even they had been fairly lax).

The Committee also took complaints and heard testimony from the general population. Mere informers were noted. UnMarked enforcers were generally lightly fined, although some were imprisoned. UnMarked true followers, like Greyback, were of course fully punished or even executed if caught.

Rewards would be given to those who had fought in the resistance, although Shacklebolt, named the permanent Minister just a few days after Hermione had left Hogwarts, got few other rewards. Still, his name would show up in the Muggle New Year's Honors List along with numerous others. Only he and Harry, however, would be knighted.




That morning in the late spring, however, there was a small, very nervous crowd in front of Gringotts, waiting for the 8:00 opening. The Dark Lord had fallen, and that was, to some degree, a relief for most of those present. Still, that meant that times were still uncertain. Few had known whom they could trust, even amongst their friends and family, other than those they knew could not be trusted at all.

Finally, the doors opened, and the crowd made its way in. There had been many goblin guards on display since the previous August. Since a dragon had broken out through the tunnel system and the great front doors, even if the main building had not been very damaged, there were even more.

One cloaked wizard went over to a free desk and said quietly, "I wish to meet with a senior manager."

"Well, management does not wish to meet with wizards," the goblin sneered. "Begone!"

The goblin found himself with a wand-point under his jaw. The sneer now increased. "If you use any magic, wizard, we will destroy you and your family, and there will be rebellion."

"If I decide I have to use magic, there will not be a goblin left alive to rebel, at least in this building. I certainly wouldn't care at the moment any more if you died than you would care about me. As for family, I have none. As for killing me. . . ." The wand forced the goblin's chin up.

The goblin looked up and realized who was talking to him. He swallowed nervously, even though the wand, hidden from everyone else's view, was withdrawn. "I understand."

"Good. I would prefer not to go that route."

"That is good to know. Follow me."




Hermione apparated disillusioned to the women's loo she knew of at Heathrow. She had, to her relief, gotten all her most important possessions back, although not on purpose. Her bag had been emptied, but she had some well-hidden compartments. She still had over £3,000, a debit card drawing from the accounts her parents hadn't remembered they had, and her passport.

She was off to find her parents.




"What are you doing, bringing THAT back here?" a goblin demanded of the desk manager.

"Mister Potter wishes to speak with a senior manager."

Harry pulled the hood of his cloak back and glared. The goblin shivered and nodded. Harry was glad he had not yet placed the Elder Wand back in Dumbledore's tomb, as it seemed to have an effect on people. He had also used the wand to fix his eyes, and his revealed eyes seemed to have an even more interesting effect on people he wasn't happy with. "The senior director is conferring with the other heads of the bank," the goblin said nervously. "There are several other members of senior management on site, however."

"I'll meet with anyone with some real authority. If that means meeting with more than one goblin, that's fine. If there is anyone who knows about my accounts and especially my vault, they would also be welcome."

"Please wait in this room over here, Mister Potter."

"Fine. However, I do not intend to wait around for long."




Ten minutes later, Harry was joined by four different goblins. He stopped them when they started to introduce themselves. "No offense, but I don't care. At this moment in time, I don't really care about much, to tell the truth. First of all, is at least one of you familiar with my accounts and vault?"

"Vaults, Mister Potter," one goblin answered. "You are familiar only with your Trust vault. In the normal course of events, you would have been notified of the others by your seventeenth birthday, had not the late Albus Dumbledore assured us you already knew about them. You have access to all three vaults. As for your accounts, they are in trust until you are twenty-one."

"And the trust officers?"

"Currently? Albus Dumbledore directed that we be all goblins, should he be killed. For the next three years or so, until you reach twenty-one, if any openings occur you and we have to agree on new candidates. Even though the bulk of your Trust investments is in the Muggle world -- there are few large-scale investment opportunities in the magical world, you know -- I assure you, we have taken great care in making you money, as we only make our share from your profits, not your expenses."

"And the money and bullion and such in any vaults, are they separate from the Trust?"

"For the most part they are. There are coin, loose jewels, and bullion in all three of the vaults."

"And the value of the wizarding money not in Trust?"

"Just over three million Galleons."

"And the value of the bullion?"

"If exchanged today? Just over twelve million Galleons."

"And would I need all three vaults if that was all gone? The bullion and most of the cash, I mean."

That stunned the goblins for a moment. Then the account manager said, "No, all the other objects could be stored in the largest, oldest vault without damage."

"And would it still be easily searchable?"

"Yes, Mister Potter, it would be."

"Fine. Do I own any property? As in houses, I mean."

'You own a great deal, from blocks of Muggle flats to half of Godric's Hollow to urban property like all of Grimmauld Place, all around the world. You even own the land the world cup was held on a few years ago, which has transient Muggles staying there at times. However, so far as I know none except for Black House would be immediately occupiable."

"I see." Harry glared are the quartet, who all shivered a bit under his eye. "Tell me, would you like to continue to administer the Trust after I turn twenty-one?"

All four had to agree they would. While not nearly the largest magical fortune in Britain, it was the largest in western Europe that the goblins currently solely administered.

"You will, of course, have to show me you were, and remain, successful and honest stewards. Beyond that, I'm asking you not to sell any residential or rural property without prior consultation."

"Agreed. Shall we administer your small share of the Black estate as well? On the same terms, of course."

"Yes, although I might be getting rid of the actual house at Grimmauld Place. Anything else, from your point of view, before I go on?"

"From what we are told, you might know something about a missing dragon and the need for new doors that we have?" another goblin asked mildly. "If so, we should also discuss that."

"I think you should discuss confiscating Death Eater assets in association with the Ministry," Harry retorted. "Recoup any losses you have had over the last year that way."

"You would back our participation in that?" a third goblin asked.

"Yes, for whatever that is worth," Harry said simply. "In addition," he went on, turning to the account manager, "I wonder if you know how many goblin-made objects I have in my vaults?"

"One-hundred and sixty-eight," he answered promptly. "In your vaults."

"How much would they be worth on the open market, outside of Britain?" Harry asked. He knew that these days, there couldn't be much of a market in magical Britain for anything beyond the necessities. Selling in Britain would not bring much, if anything, and he wouldn't put it past the goblins to value the objects that why if they thought it was in their interest.

"Nearly two million Galleons," the account manager growled. "Perhaps more if properly auctioned."

"Take them all," Harry said dismissively.

All four goblin jaws dropped. "What?" one finally asked.

"Take the damn things," Harry snarled. "Or would that include things like portraits?"

"There are three jeweled picture frames," the manager confessed.

"Don't damage the paintings," Harry warned. "Put them in plain frames. Consider it a fine, a gesture, or a gift, or whatever."

"But. . . ."

"I always thought Binns was a bigoted and total incompetent. Well, he is, but he wasn't quite as biased against you as I had thought. I disapprove of some of your values. However, as I want you to respect mine, I have to respect yours." Harry glared, and again the four shivered. "I currently have no quarrel with you as a people. If giving, or returning, these objects allow us to work together better, fine. If not, at least I tried."

"And the Sword of Gryffindor?" the third goblin asked.

Harry shrugged. "If the Sorting Hat is fully repaired, then the Sword seems to belong to it. At least it can summons the Sword. It apparently isn't mine."

"Anything else?" the third goblin asked.

"Yes, how much of a processing fee would you charge me to convert all my bullion to cash?"

"Well, if we converted it all at once, the price would crash," the account manager explained. "It would be best to convert it over at least a six-week period. If so, we will only charge three percent."

"Very well. Do it. Invest half the money along with the Trust." Harry scowled. "Consider that part of my test on how you are handling my money, as this money I have control over."

"Understood," the manager agreed.

"Which British banks do you deal with?" Harry asked.

"Most of the commercial banks," the second goblin answered. "Of the regular banks? Primarily Barclays."

"I'd like three hundred thousand Galleons exchanged into British Sterling and transferred to Barclays, and thirty thousand exchanged into a bearer's draft in Australian Dollars. Leave three hundred thousand here. The rest, including the remainder of the money from the bullion, transfer all that to the investing branch of Wizarding Bank of Switzerland."

The goblins glared at him.

"Do you know the Muggle saying of not keeping all your eggs in one basket?" Harry demanded.

"Good point," the fourth goblin said, speaking for the first time.




It took just over another hour for Harry to work out the details with the goblins. The goblins then showed him to a place where he could apparate from. When he was gone, the four goblins sighed with relief.

Harry appeared back in the forest near the world cup site. He took a few minutes to make certain he was alone, then he set up the tent which had been returned to Hermione the afternoon before. He set up the wards, as Hermione had taught him, and then called out, "Kreacher! Winky!"

The two elves appeared. "Master called?" Kreacher demanded.

"Yes. I'll need you to go back to Grimmauld Place and take care of it." Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Kreacher was hoping to go to Mistress Narcissa," Kreacher grumbled.

"Does she want you?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Mistress does," Kreacher asserted.

"Then I will likely grant you permission in a moment."

"Really?" Kreacher was surprised.

"Yes." He looked at Winky. "Do you still want to bond with me?" He had talked to the little elf the day before leaving Hogwarts. She had joined with Kreacher, much to her own surprise, in part to get revenge for Dobby. She now felt she should fulfill Dobby's fantasy of working for Harry, although she didn't want to stay a free elf.

"Yes, please," Winky said. "Winky needs a family."

"Can you deliver a message to a witch who's surrounded by Muggles without being seen?"

"Yes, Master, if she is known to Winky and within three hundred miles. Further than that, Winky might need more time."

"That is satisfactory." Harry turned back to Kreacher. "How badly damaged was Grimmauld Place?"

"When Master ran away? The House of Black was not damaged, but most of the things in it was, Master, except the Mistress' portrait. The few things Master and his followers left were taken or destroyed."

"You are not to let anyone know where I am, ever."

"Yes, Master."

"Will that rule still apply after you are transferred to Narcissa Malfoy?"

"Yes, Master."

Harry looked at Winky, who nodded. "Winky can never tell her new Master the secrets of her old Masters," she added.

"Fine. Tell Narcissa that I will transfer the house and contents to her for a hundred Galleons, and that you go with the house. I would, however, appreciate anything of Sirius', or Remus' or mine or my friends, be returned to me. Is that acceptable practice?"

"Yes, Master." Kreacher looked very happy.