Chapter Eleven - Gifts and Legal Boffins

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the proverbial Duchess of Magic, JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. No matter how much I whine about not owning anything related to the HP universe, other than a few fanfic plots, I do not profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world... Damn it!

Chapter Eleven - Gifts and Legal Boffins

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Once they finally did rise, run through their morning ablutions and walk down to the Great Hall for a late breakfast, the three bondmates were some of the last ones to break their fasts.

"Harry," called a voice from behind. Recognising it instantly, Harry froze as he tried to get his instant flare of hatred back down and under control.

"Weasley," he muttered with an almost snarl. Slowly turning around, he looked up into the face of Ron Weasley. "What do you want?"

Seeming to take a deep breath and brace himself up, Ron imperiously stated, "I've decided to forgive you your actions against me. We can be friends again. My mother demands it."

Utterly stunned by his ex-friend's words and actions, Harry first turned to look at an equally stunned Hermione, before he turned back. "Are you completely out of your dull little mind?" he scoffed. "I want you the Hell away from me! I want you in Azkaban! And, if I can't have that, I want you dead!

"In what freaking reality would you ever believe I want anything to do with you, ever again?"

With his eyes widening in shock and hurt at the rebuff, Ron tried, "But, Harry! I'm willing to forgive you; you should be willing to forgive me and Ginny!"

"You tried to poison me and Hermione with potions, Weasley!" snarled Harry, standing up and glaring back. "A better friend that you pointed out to me afterwards that Amortentia and their like could easily be called the Imperius curse in a bottle. That includes any other mind altering potion, or potion that takes away a person's free will!

"If there was ever a project I wanted to put the Potter fortune towards, it's to see those sorts of potions be the first ever to be classed as Unforgivables!" As he was speaking, Harry's voice became louder and louder, and Ron cowered back further and further.

"And that's exactly what we consider what your sister did, and what you were doing, Weasley," he barked. "Unforgivable!"

"Mister Potter, calm yourself!" Professor McGonagall called, stalking down the Hall towards them. Turning to Ron as she approached, she barked, "And you, Mister Weasley; my office, at the completion of the meal. Now, return to the Gryffindor table!"

Ron skulked back to the table as the usual noise level return to the Hall. He did, however, cast one last hate-filled glare back at Harry.

Neither saw the Headmaster look down at the two of them and sigh in both sadness and frustration.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Once done with breakfast, the three trudged back up to their apartment. Harry then told them, "I need to duck into Diagon Alley and was thinking of the Whomping Willow secret tunnel to the Shrieking Shack to duck out for a couple hours. Do either of you want to come with?"

"Harry, you'll get caught," Hermione said a little worried for him.

"No, love," he replied. "We learned how to do glamours when we were on the hunt for horcruxes, remember?"

"Oh," she blushed. "Of course, we did."

He chuckled and gave her a kiss. "You thought we were fourteen, again; and forgot we've learned post NEWTs charms."

"I did," she admitted with a little sigh. "But, why do you want to go into Diagon Alley now?"

"Well, Miss Nosey Parker," he replied. "I wanted to pick up a nice birthday present for you. Plus, a couple other things."

She sighed. "Just don't forget you need to back here at 1.00pm," she instructed him. "That solicitor Matthias sent us is due then."

"I won't," he replied.

In Wednesday morning's owl mail drop Harry finally received a letter from a solicitor Matthias had organised for them. He quickly wrote back and agreed to a meeting with the man the next Saturday, today, at 1.00pm.

The three had already let their Head of House, Professor Flitwick, know of the meeting; and asked him not to discuss it with anyone. They didn't need to mention that 'anyone' also included the Headmaster. He'd promised not to. So, hopefully, they wouldn't be bothered by the Headmaster during the meeting.

Neither girl wanted to accompany him for this trip. Changing his appearance into a nondescript adult wizard, Harry asked for his bondmates' opinions. After a couple of minor tweaks, they deemed him suitable. A quick memorisation of his appearance and he allowed it to fade away.

Knowing he'd be using his invisibility cloak, Harry pulled it out and scanned it for charms and the like.

"Harry?" asked Hermione. "Why are you scanning your invisibility cloak?"

"Think about this, Hermione," he started to explain. "This is the True Cloak of Invisibility, right?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And it was supposed to be so good that it hid him... Peverell... even from Death, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, frowning.

"Then, how is it that Dumbledore and Moody are able to see through it?"

With an 'Oh' of understanding, she replied, "That shouldn't be possible."

"Right," he firmly agreed. "So, the only other explanation is that Ol' Twinkles did something to it before he returned it to me that allows him to see through it."

Sighing in sadness for yet another piece of evidence that Dumbledore was not the 'great man' she originally thought him to be, Hermione stood and approached Harry to help him scan the cloak.

"Found one," said Harry, pausing in his scanning. "A tracking charm."

Not caring that Dumbledore would know it had been removed, he moved it to the back of the couch he was standing next to.

As they held the cloak out between them, Hermione was next to find something. "Here's another," she sighed. "A beacon charm at the corner of the hood."

As she stripped it away, Harry supposed, "That was probably how he could see us in Hagrid's Hut during second year. When you, me and Ron were hiding under it in the corner."

"Here's another," she suddenly said. "I don't know what it is, though."

"Strip it, anyway," he said.

When they finished there were no further charms they could find on the cloak. Harry allowed it to drape over the back of the couch and turned to his friend.

"Alright," he asked. "Can you do a quick scan of me for tracking and beacon charms?"

While he stood there with his feet a shoulder-width apart, and his arms a little out from his sides, Hermione began to scan. Daphne, quite curious, came over to help. Almost immediately, as she was starting at the top and from his front and working her way down, she came across one.

"Got one!" Daphne exclaimed. "A tracking charm affixed to your glasses. I'll transfer it to a quill in your school bag. That way, it'll seem to work while you're in school, but won't as soon as you're out of here."

Harry quickly picked up a quill and watched as Daphne transferred the tracking charm to it.

"And another!" exclaimed Hermione from down near his feet. "One on your left shoe. It's more recent than those on your cloak, too." Just as Daphne did, she transferred that over to the quill, too.

As Daphne went to set the quill aside so she could continue scanning, Hermione again suddenly said, "Here's another. It's on your belt."

So, Daphne again held the quill for her as she transferred the charm.

"This is ridiculous!" Harry grouched. "Just how many does Ol' Twinkles think he needs on me to keep track of me?"

"At least one more, Harry," said Daphne from where she was looking at his left wrist. "There's another on the timepiece on your wrist." A pause and then, "Nope. There's also one on your wand."

As she worked to move those two to the quill, Hermione stood back frowning.

After a few moments, as Daphne finished moving the last tracking charm, Hermione snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "Of course!"

"Of course, what, love?" asked Harry, still looking around himself.

"The tracking charms that were on you," she replied. "They were all on items the Headmaster thought you'd always be wearing or carrying."

"Huh?" he asked, confused.

"She right," Daphne firmly nodded. "You change your clothes at least every day, and magical washing strips them off; and, any charms that may have been on your direct person, we know would have fallen away due to the bond; therefore, the only ones that make sense are the ones that are on items you would have on you all the time and wouldn't be washed.

"Such as your glasses, your belt, your wand, your watch and your shoes," continued Hermione.

Frowning, Daphne asked, "You only have one pair of shoes?"

"Well, no," said Harry. "Two pairs. My school shoes and the trainers I wear at the Dursleys."

With a roll of her eyes, Daphne said, "First chance we get, we're taking you clothes shopping."

Wanting to change the subject, Harry said, "While I'm out, would you two please scan everything I own for more such charms? Including my trunk and Hedwig's cage. And Hedwig herself."

"Yeah; and we'll scan everything I own while we're at it," Hermione acknowledged.

"That old fool really wants to keep an eye on you, doesn't he?" asked Daphne.

"Yep," he replied. "He needs to know where his little pet weapon is at any time." With a sigh, he said, "Well, I'd best be off if I want to get back here before lunch."

He gave each girl a quick kiss and said, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

He donned his invisibility cloak and made his way outside and to the Whomping Willow. A quick knockback jinx on the 'knot' on the trunk, stilling the tree for the necessary few moments, and he was through to the Shrieking Shack.

Once in the shack he donned his glamour and made his way to the Three Broomsticks, where he used the fireplace to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. A nod of greeting to the barman, Tom, and he was through the back door and into the Alley, then through the magical archway into the Alley proper, and soon was walking into Gringotts.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Entering the bank, Harry made his way to a vacant teller and waited to be acknowledged.

When the goblin finally looked up it said, "What do you want, wizard?"

"Good morning, teller," Harry respectfully replied. "I need to withdraw some gold from my vault and am currently not in possession of my key."

The goblin glared back at him and half-snarled, "You are responsible for the safety of your key, at all times, wizard. You will be charged for a replacement."

"Understood, Teller," Harry replied.

After another long glare, the goblin withdrew some parchment from under his desk and placed it, and a small ritual knife, on the desk before him.

"Prick your finger with the knife and allow three drops of your blood to land on the circle at the top right of the sheet," the goblin instructed.

Harry stepped closer to the teller window and softly but firmly said, "When I do this, I need you to continue to address me as nothing more than 'wizard', Teller goblin. I do not want other bank customers to learn of my identity. Do you understand?"

The goblin stared back with a look of curiosity before he said, "It will be done."

With a nod of acceptance, Harry raised the tip of the knife to the pad of the middle finger on his left hand, and gave it a sharp jab over the parchment.

Pulling the knife away and placing it, hilt first, towards the goblin back on the desk top he held his left finger directly over the spot marked on the parchment, allowing the blood to drip free.

Once the required three drops fell he pulled his hand away and pinched off the flow by directly squeezing it with his thumb pressed on the small nick.

The goblin dipped the knife into what Harry knew to be a combined antiseptic and bodily fluid destroyer before he dropped it into a small tray set to the side. All the while, both he and Harry stared at the sheet of parchment between them.

It took a few moments, before the magic of the small ritual led to words suddenly appearing on the parchment, a lot like how they appeared on the Marauders' Map. Harry was watching it from an upside down perspective.

As it finished, the goblin flicked his head up to look back at Harry in shock. There was just the slight hesitation before he said, "Come with me, wizard."

Harry stepped back as the goblin rolled up the parchment sheet and placed a 'closed' notice in his window. Then he gestured for Harry to go to the end of the long bench of teller windows; Harry complied.

At the end, the goblin came through a small batwing hip-height door and, with another gesture, had Harry follow him through a full height door. As he did so, Harry felt the effect of 'Fool's Downfall' wash over him, stripping away his glamour.

Two guards and the teller goblin, stood just out of his reach but well within reach of the two long halberds the goblin guards were bearing as they stared back, impassively.

"Well, Mister Potter," said the goblin. "You are who the blood identifying ritual said you are. Follow me." And the goblin spun about and continued to walk down the long corridor.

Hurrying to catch up, Harry said, "Now that you know who I am. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

There was another slight hesitation as the goblin seemed to consider whether or not Harry had an ulterior motive for asking. Then he almost grudgingly replied, "Its Ripclaw, Mister Potter."

"Then I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Well-met, Teller Ripclaw," Harry politely said. It was for this sort of moment that Harry was grateful for the long hours of chatting he had with Griphook at Shell Cottage in the old timeline. If it wasn't that Griphook was also curious, he doubted the tricky old goblin would have told him anything about goblin society and modes of greeting. He was using that knowledge now.

The goblin stopped and turned to him with a look of combined suspicion and respect. Eventually, he said, "Well-met, Mister Potter," before he continued on his way.

Almost suddenly they stopped at a normal door, similar to ones he'd already passed. Affixed at about chest height was a small gold plaque. On it in engraved black lettering was a single family name - 'Potter'.

'Sweet Merlin!' thought Harry, as Ripclaw rapped his knuckles smartly on the door. To have your own Account Manager demonstrated beyond any other symbol just how rich and important the House of Potter was to both the wizarding world and the goblins. That simple plaque represented so much.

There was an almost growling bark sound from beyond the door and Ripclaw opened it, leading Harry inside.

Stopping about five feet short of the single desk within, with an older goblin sitting behind it, Ripclaw gave a short bow and said, "The Heir Potter."

The older goblin looked up at him as Ripclaw left and barked, "And just where in Grognuk's name have you been, Mister Potter? Time and again we have sent you requests for you to come and visit us, and you have ignored each and every one of them!"

Calmly, Harry said, "Before you start ripping strips off me and rendering them down for potions ingredients, perhaps you should first start by telling me who you are."

Pausing for another furious glare, the old goblin used a slightly lower volume to growl, "I am Senior Account Keeper Sharpclaw. Now, perhaps you can explain to me your actions."

Spying the single chair sitting before the desk, Harry indicated it and asked, "May I? I have somewhat distressing news to impart to you."

Sharpclaw gave a short sharp nod but continued to glare at Harry as he calmly made his way to the chair and sat down.

"It will distress you to know, Senior Sharpclaw, that my owl mail... contrary to my prior knowledge until a couple of days ago... has been redirected away from me," Harry calmly replied. "A couple of days ago, and immediately after I forced him to do so, I had Albus Dumbledore show me to where my mail has been redirected by him. It is all, currently, stored in one of the abandoned parts of the Hogwarts castle. In a storeroom there, there are literally thousands of items of my illegally undelivered mail sitting on shelves waiting for me to go through. That includes all mail sent to me from Gringotts."

Staring back with an almost murderous look at Harry, Sharpclaw asked, "Do you mean to tell me that Wizard Dumbledore has been intercepting your mail and redirecting it to a different location against your wishes?"

"I do," Harry calmly replied. "However, he had himself recognised as my magical guardian by the Wizengamot. And he told me he feared those with ill-intent towards me may have attempted to use owl mail as a way to do me harm. However, while his stated intentions are good, his execution of those intentions... shall we say... leave a lot to be desired."

"It is both illegal under wizarding law, and a breach of treaty, to intercept Gringotts mail!" Sharpclaw barked back, furious all over again.

"And barking at me like a mangy dog might make you feel better, but accomplishes nothing!" Harry shot right back.

Sharpclaw stared back at him with a look of shock for a moment, as Harry matched him stare for stare, before he burst out laughing. "Well reasoned, Heir Potter," he finally, and lot more calmly, stated. "I take it you have remonstrated with the old fool, and we can now expect you to receive your mail?"

"You may. However, I'm going to ask... until I'm sure the mail redirection has been removed... you send all correspondence to me care of a Miss Hermione Granger," Harry calmly replied. "And, now that you've vented your spleen at me, perhaps we can get on with both why you've sought my attendance, and why I came in. Time is money, after all."

"That it is," Sharpclaw said, looking back at Harry with something akin to awakening respect.

Over the next hour Sharpclaw provided Harry with a folio of recent account statements for his three vaults, spoke to the quite substantial Potter investment portfolio - and his plans for it - and a listing of Potter property. Of course, Harry couldn't access the two main Potter vaults until he was emancipated. And he couldn't tell Senior Sharpclaw his emancipation would occur in only a matter of about six weeks. So, that had to wait.

He did inform the goblin that he suspected he would be emancipated 'on or about' the 1st of November. And that that particular information was in the highest confidence. "It is my intention at this time," he told the goblin, "that I will be visiting you again on the 1st of November, or very soon afterwards. At that time I expect to have been emancipated. And I further intend, at that time, we fully activate the Potter holdings, vaults and all."

"You know something," the old goblin accused.

"Names for the champions for the upcoming Tri-Wizard Tournament will be drawn on the evening of the 31st of October," explained Harry. "The Ministry have made the determination that only 'of-age' witches and wizards may take part in the tournament. I believe my name will be selected as a champion. If the Ministry demands I compete, I believe they will have effectively emancipated me. I intend to make use of that."

Sharpclaw looked back at him with shrewd respect. "So, you will come in here, fill out the emancipation acknowledgement documentation... which I will, of course, have prepared for such an eventuality... and have me immediately submit them to the Ministry through our normal channel of communication."

"Precisely," Harry replied, glad the old goblin understood. "Plus, I am in the process of securing the services of a law firm. I have a meeting with one such individual this afternoon. That man, or woman or another, will be providing legal counsel that can be used to assist."

For his part, Harry had both Daphne and Hermione 'keyed' in to accessing his accounts, and asked for a recommendation for a jeweller who was discreet. He told the goblin he had every intention of placing betrothal rings on the fingers of both his bondmates the next Friday.

And, finally, he donned the Head of House ring for House Potter; and immediately disillusioned it.

"This doesn't make me a Lord or anything, does it?" asked Harry, a little worried.

With a very human-like snort, Sharpclaw replied, "Of course not. From wherever would you get such an idea?"

With a shrug and wry smile, Harry replied, "Just a suspicion."

"No, Mister Potter," the goblin said. "Lordships and the like are something the muggles do; not witches and wizards."

Harry nodded back in acknowledgement before he continued, "Now, there is one final matter I wish to raise with you concerning what I suspect is a dark magic item of the highest calibre being stored in one of Gringotts's vaults. It is not in one of mine – and I had neither control over its creation, or over it ever being placed within your vaults; nor any control over it even now. However, I'm aware that Gringotts, in general, will be most distressed to learn of its existence - even more so that it is within goblin holdings."

With a wary look back at Harry, Sharpclaw asked, "And what and where would this dark magic item be?"

"The item is the personal potion chalice of Helga Hufflepuff. It is known as Hufflepuff's Cup," Harry further explained. "However, a wizard by the name of Tom Riddle... and also known by the pseudonym of 'Lord Voldemort'... used it to convert it into a horcrux; or, soul container.

"As for where it is; I'm led to believe it's currently in the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange... here, at Gringotts."

"It's what?!" roared the old goblin.

Harry just cocked an eyebrow back, unflinching.

Sharpclaw jabbed a finger down on what appeared to be a rune on his desk and barked at it in the 'Tongue' of the goblins. Momentarily, there rapidly entered a couple of minor level younger goblins.

Sharpclaw rapid-fire barked at them in the Tongue for a few moments before they both looked quite angry and shot back out the door. The old goblin then swivelled his head to stare hard back at Harry. Harry sat with his eyebrow still cocked and the barest hint of a smirk on his face, calm as can be.

With a wary glare back, Sharpclaw asked, "And how did you come to learn of this... abomination, Mister Potter? Or, that it resides in one of our vaults, contrary to Treaty?"

"Alas, I cannot... not will not... cannot say, Senior Sharpclaw," Harry calmly replied. "I am bound not to. Nevertheless, I know my information is accurate, as we both shall soon learn."

A few minutes later, one of the two younger goblins from earlier burst in through the doors. He ignored Harry and, with a growl in his voice, said something to Sharpclaw. Clearly, it was information confirming Harry's 'bombshell'.

The two spoke for a few moments before the younger goblin again departed and Sharpclaw, once more, turned his attention to Harry.

"Your... information has been confirmed, Mister Potter," stated Sharpclaw with disgust. "As punishment for the witch who did this, the entirety of the vaults will be confiscated. You will be awarded a ten percent cut of the value of the contents as 'finder's fee' for the information."

"Once the Cup has been 'cleansed' of the foul taint upon it, I want possession of it," Harry quickly stated. "As it belonged to one of the founders of Hogwarts, I want to be able to return it to the school, so it may be placed on display, at a later time."

Sharpclaw nodded back and said, "That can be done. The value of it will, however, be deducted from the finder's fee."

"Ninety percent of its value, you mean," mused Harry. "After all, ten percent of its value is rightfully mine as part of the finder's fee."

Sharpclaw stared back shrewdly for a moment before he gave a firm nod of recognition of Harry's reasoning. "As you state," he replied. "However, you will also be charged the cost of removing the horcrux from the object, in return."

Harry smiled and replied, "As you state, Senior Sharpclaw." Harry then rose and said, "Time is money, Senior; and I've taken enough of yours."

Not even moving from his desk, Sharpclaw replied, "That it is, Mister Potter. I shall have the parchmentwork ready for you by the 1st of November. I also expect the Cup to be cleansed and ready for you to pick up, by then."

With a slight bow, Harry said, "Well-met, Senior Sharpclaw."

With the return acknowledgement in his ears, Harry turned and left the office, heading back to the main lobby.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Leaving the bank, Harry redonned his glamour in the lobby and made his way directly to the address of the jeweller Sharpclaw recommended. Entering, he approached the storekeeper and informed her of his needs.

"Three matching betrothal...?" the witch asked before her eyes widened in understanding. "You're Harry Potter!"

"This purchase is on behalf of Mister Potter," Harry firmly stated. While he didn't lie, he knew the storekeeper would jump to the wrong conclusion.

"Oh!" the storekeeper said. "And I may call you...?"

"Mister Evans," Harry muttered. Again, not another lie as she never asked for his name; just a name to call him. Harry now felt like he was 'channelling' Dumbledore.

"Of course, Mister Evans," she half-gushed. "This way, please."

She led him over to one of her secured glass-fronted displays and pulled out a long tray of rings similar to how they were presented in the muggle way. She then carried that, plus a second tray, to a counter top.

With the use of twin bright overhead gaslights, she held the trays angled up slightly to display them for him. "These are our usual Ancient House style betrothal rings," she explained. "Of course, we can also do custom requests, if that is more Mister Potter's preference."

Harry gave a light grunt in acknowledgement, and the sale-witch continued.

"Of course, I know little about... Miss Granger, wasn't it?" But, without waiting for confirmation, she continued, "But we know the Greengrass family quite well.

"If I recall, Miss Daphne has light blue eyes, a light complexion, and light blonde hair. And I've heard Miss... Hermione?... has brown eyes, I think, light complexion and mid to chocolate brown hair. I do not know if we have any rings that could easily match both ladies."

"That's okay," Harry replied, still looking down at the trays. "I'm fully aware of what Mister Potter wants. And he describes Miss Granger's eyes as chocolate brown, the same as her hair."

Indicating one of the rings, he described, "He wants something like that one for both ladies. Except he wants a setting of three small stones of equal cut and size in a closed shape. Each stone is to be an identical heart-cut, or loveheart-shaped cut, with the points pointing into the centre of the symbol so it appears like a six-petalled flower. And a similar ring in a man's style. If you have a spare small sheet of parchment, ink and a quill I can draw it for you."

"Certainly," she said, moving to a small desk and drawing the three items out of a drawer. She brought them back and placed them for Harry's use on the counter next to the trays.

Harry then carefully, drew the shape of three heart-cut shapes with the bottom tip of each pointing into the middle. It made a somewhat hexagonal shape of the three stones.

Once he was completed he said, "Now for the stones, themselves. For each ring, one each of aquamarine, sunstone and emerald. For Miss Greengrass's ring, the aquamarine stone is to be centre top; for Miss Granger, the sunstone is to be centre top; and for Mister Potter, the emerald."

Harry quickly drew two matching stone patterns and named each stone according to what he'd just said.

Spinning it about so the witch could see what he meant, he asked, "Is that clear enough for you?"

Bending over to look closer at the three designs, the witch was frowning and replied, "Yes - yes, I believe it is. You understand, of course, the stones will be a little on the tiny side and it will still be expensive?"

"I do," Harry replied with a gentle nod. "These rings are to represent the uniqueness of their three-way soul bond, and to show one and all that they are genuinely committed to one another."

"Yes; so it would," the witch said, now clearly understanding what she was looking upon.

Looking back at Harry, she explained, "This will be quite the unusual, if not unique, project I have ever undertaken. Now, what metal do you want for the rings, themselves?"

"White gold," he said. "I've been told their bonds glowed silver with a slight pearl hue when they were initiated, so that sounds like the perfect metal for the ring."

"That it does," she smiled.

After getting a promise of discretion for the work and who ordered it, a promise of a rush on the order - once Harry offered a fifteen percent bonus if the work could be done and delivered within a week - and an advanced payment of the total amount of just over one thousand galleons, Harry left the store with a bit of a skip in his step.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

His next stop took him down Knockturn Alley. Just as he entered he raised the hood of his cloak and placed a second glamour over his face that would give it a type of blur and make his voice sound a little deeper and menacing.

With an air of supreme confidence he made his way down the Alley. Other witches and wizards, recognising the stride of someone powerful, stepped out of his way as he passed.

Finding the store he wanted, he entered.

At the counter, he pushed the little bell to summon the store owner to the front of the store.

"Yes, sir?" asked the store owner, a wizened old man, coming from behind a set of shelves behind the short counter. There were no other customers.

"I need six auror-capable minimum quick draw wand holsters," Harry firmly stated.

"Such are somewhat illegal," said the proprietor. "Ol' Jimmy can be in lotsa troubles with the DMLE, if he sells such a thing to you."

Leaning forward and speaking a little quieter but just as firm, Harry said, "The Dark Lord will soon return. He will reward those who have been of service."

The old man's eyes widened a little before he stuttered, "O-of course, sir! O-one moment, please."

He quickly ducked back between the shelves and returned with a plain unmarked small crate. He placed it on the bench, quickly looked around, and removed the lid.

Inside, Harry could see at least a dozen such holsters rested within. He then reached inside and removed six at random. "They are all in good working order?" he demanded.

"Of course, Sir," the store keeper replied. "Hit Wizard level and quality."

With a grunt, Harry asked, "How much?"

"O-one hundred galleons each, Sir," the man said.

Harry could see the man clearly did not believe his own pricing. He snapped his hand out with his fast Quidditch reflexes and grabbed the man by a fistful of his robe lapels before dragging him hard against and slightly over the counter.

"When I asked how much I did not expect to be so insulted. Try again," he snarled. And shoved the man back away again.

"Y-yes, sir; sorry Sir," the man stammered clearly frightened. "Just a test, Sir. I-I'm sure you understand.

Harry just stood there silent and trying to look menacing.

The old man nervously wet his lips and said, "F-Forty galleons each, Sir."

"Thirty," Harry snarled. "For your insult."

Looking a little pained, the old man begged, "Thirty-five, please, Sir."

Harry stood glaring at the man to make him sweat a little more before he grunted in the affirmative. He pulled two hundred and ten galleons from his pouch and dropped the coins on the counter top. He hesitated a moment before dropping another ten galleons on the counter and said, "For a jar of holster polish and your trouble."

Quickly, the little old man reached under the counter and pulled the required jar out, placing it on the counter next to the six holsters.

Gathering the holsters and jar up, Harry dropped them into one of his large inside pockets. Then, just before he swept out of the store, he snarled, "I was never here."

After he'd gone, the old man relaxed and muttered, "Who was never here?"

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Back out in the alley, Harry wended his way back to Diagon Alley, stripped the second glamour away and dropped his hood. He ducked in to Flourish & Blott's to set up an account for both of his ladies. Then did the same next door at Madam Malkin's and next door, again, at Madam Primpernelle's. At each he also sought to be placed on mailing lists. Thinking about it a bit, he also added Twillfit and Tattings, the Owl Emporium and a couple of other stores. Finally, he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron, and Floo'ed back to the Three Broomsticks.

Once in Hogsmeade he headed to Gladrags and created an account for himself and both girls to use, then ducked next door to Scrivenshaft's and did the same. In both, he also sought to be added to their mailing lists, too.

Once he was satisfied he'd accomplished what he wanted to accomplish, he headed to the Shrieking Shack, entered through the same rear window he used to exit earlier, and took the hidden passage back to the Whomping Willow.

A quick whack on the knot and he donned his invisibility cloak to walk back to the castle.

Once inside, he found an empty alcove where he removed the cloak and the glamour and made his way back to the apartment.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

Stepping inside, both witches grapple-hugged him with soft cries of, "Oh Merlin, we were so worried! You're okay, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," he calmly replied. As they backed off him, and he made his way to collapse onto one of the couches, he asked, "Now, what did I miss?"

"Nothing that we know of," replied Daphne. "We were getting worried because it's almost lunchtime and you weren't back."

"So, what happened?" Hermione asked. "Where did you go? Did you get everything done you needed to?"

"I went into Gringotts where I got yelled at by the Potter Senior Account Keeper for ignoring his mail to me. I explained to him about the mail redirections and asked him, just in case, to send everything to me care of you, Hermione. And started the prep work for my emancipation that's going to occur when my name comes out of the Goblet.

"Oh, and as per one of my tasks, alerted them to the Cup horcrux in the Lestrange vault. For doing so, they awarded me ten percent of the contents as, what the goblin called, 'Finder's Fee'. As part of that, I get the Cup once they remove the horcrux from it. I should be able to pick it up on the 1st of November."

"You didn't tell him how you know that's going to happen, did you?" asked Hermione, a little worried.

"No, of course not," he replied. "I just implied I knew my name would be selected. I did not tell him why I knew.

"I then did a bit of shopping for things that'll be delivered during the week. And set a few accounts up at some stores. Then, I simply came back here, making sure I wasn't recognised or spotted for the whole time."

Both girls then looked relieved.

"What store accounts did you set up, Harry?" asked Daphne.

With a smirk, he replied, "Well, first I set up my Gringotts accounts to give both you ladies access. You'll need..."

"You what?!" both girls practically shouted.

With a wince at the shout but still smirking, he explained, "I set up my accounts with Gringotts to give both you ladies access. We're bonded and we're going to be married. This was the right thing to do."

"But, Harry," whined Hermione. "We can empty you out; spend all your money; send you broke."

"For starters, he explained, "No, you can't. At least, not right away. You only have access to the same vault I currently have access to. And that's my trust vault.

"When my emancipation is recognised by the goblins I'll have full access to the other two vaults. At that time, I'll create individual family member vaults for the pair of you. When we're married, I'll grant you access to the rest, except for the specific Head of House stuff.

"As Daphne can attest, this is normal." Looking over at the other girl, Daphne nodded. "And I'm going to set up the family member vaults with a substantial monthly stipend; so, you'll never want for anything. It's my responsibility to make sure you are both financially cared for; and I intend to be very good at doing that."

With an initial frown leading to a sigh and nod of acceptance, Hermione asked, "And what other accounts did you set up?"

"Well... since you're being so pushy to get the information... it's something I was going to tell you as part of your birthday present from me," he offered. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to treat each of your birthdays as if it's also a birthday of the other. That is, you'll both have birthday presents for Hermione's birthday next Friday, and... actually, when is your birthday, Daphne?"

"The 12th of May," she replied.

"Then from me you'll both receive birthday presents for Daphne's birthday on the 12th of May." With a chuckle he explained, "It makes it easier for me and I'm not spoiling one of you over the other, even if it is your birthday."

"Well, I won't say no to an extra birthday," Daphne smirked.

"Or more birthday presents," Hermione added.

"Good," he firmly said. "Now, using the time I had, in Diagon Alley I set up accounts for the three of us with Flourish & Blott's, Madam Malkin's, Twillfit and Tattings and, for you two, Madam Primpernelle's. On my way back, I passed through Hogsmeade and set up accounts for the three of us at Gladrags and Scrivenshaft's."

"Wow," exclaimed Hermione, a little shocked. "Just, wow!"

Daphne came over and plonked herself on Harry's lap where she proceeded to give him a most intense but short snog. Pulling back, she said, "What such a clever and loving bondmate you are."

Not wanting to be left out, Hermione came over and tapped Daphne on the shoulder. Daphne hopped off Harry's lap and moved to sit beside him as Hermione took her own spot on his lap. She, too, also gave him an intense but short snog. "Yes, you are," she softly agreed.

"Alright. What else did you do?" asked Daphne, as Hermione moved off his lap to sit on his other side.

"I bought birthday presents," he smugly replied. "And, no; I'm not telling you what they are. Besides, since some of it involved custom work, I'm not sure what's going to arrive before your birthday, or not. You'll just have to wait until next Friday to find out."

Both witches were clearly excited at this news. "Any hints?" asked Daphne, while Hermione asked "If you got multiple couldn't you at least tell us about one?"

"No and no," he said. "Besides, one of the gifts was the access to my trust vault, and another was all the accounts at the various stores both in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Do you really think I'd make use of Madam Primpernelle's? Even though she does?

"No, ladies," he firmly explained. "You've already been informed of, and given, two of them."

"But, Harry," Daphne mock-whined. "We can't use any of those until the first Hogsmeade weekend, at least!"

"Ah!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "I knew I was forgetting something." He reached into his robes and withdrew a stack of folded parchment. "Ta da!" he gleefully exclaimed. "Mail order brochures!"

No sooner had the words been uttered when they were snatched out of his hand by Daphne, who quickly took them back over to the other couch, lest Harry suddenly snatched them back.

Just as she was sitting down, staring at her prize, Daphne beckoned Hermione over to join her. Surprising Harry, she did. And both of his bondmates happily shared the brochures and talked about what they could order.

Using the opportunity of their distraction, Harry quickly ducked into his bedroom, pulled out the bottom drawer of his chest of drawers, and dropped the wand holsters within the now available hollow, before sliding the drawer back. He'd try to talk to Dobby later, in private, about getting them wrapped for him.

Walking back into the living room where the girls were still going through the brochures, he returned to his seat.

"Harry," complained Daphne. "You didn't pick up the latest catalogues."

"There were catalogues?" he asked. "Well, I'm sure Hedwig would love the work. Why not send her, asking for them?"

The two witches glanced at each other for a moment before Hermione suddenly said, "I'll get the stationery," and quickly made her way to her room. Hermione liked to keep her bag on her dresser cum chest of drawers; while Daphne and Harry both kept theirs on their personal bookcases in the living room.

After both witches had gone through writing letters to the various stores and ordering the mail order catalogues for each, Harry finally managed to get some answers out of them about the scan of his personal effects.

"Well," started Daphne. "There were tracking charms on Hedwig and her cage, on your trunk, on your book bag, on that small backpack you've got in the bottom of your trunk, on your second pair of shoes, on your photo album of your parents and their friends, on your photo frame of the picture of your parents holding on to each other, on your comb, and on that funny billed cap you've got. I think that was it."

"Yes, I think it was," agreed Hermione. "And, I had tracking charms on my trunk, my watch, Crookshanks's basket, carrier and collar, my necklace, a couple of my hair combs and my copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"They've now all been stripped away and stuck on various fixtures and furnishings about the apartment."

"Between us," offered Daphne. "We're going to be working on finding a charm that can be affixed to everything that'll send us an alarm and issue a glow, that only we can see, if any other charm is affixed to anything."

"That would be brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "Now we just have to find a way to deactivate Twinkles's little trinkets that are using blood-based magic to track me."

After a moment of shock, Daphne loudly exclaimed, "He's what?!" Making both Harry and Hermione wince.

"I don't have any proof of it," he replied. "But, I'm pretty sure he's using blood-based tracking on me. I'm pretty sure some of those wheezing and whizzing little gadgets in his office are monitors of me."

"Dobby!" Daphne near-snarled.

With a quick pop, Dobby appeared in the living room almost frightened. "Yes, Miss Daffy?"

Seeing the state of the little elf, both other teens watched as Daphne visibly forced her anger down. Once she seemed to have managed to get control of herself, she looked back at the elf and said, "Dobby, I apologise. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry about something else."

"Miss Daffy apologises to Dobby?" the little elf asked almost awed and in tears. "The great Master Harry Potter sir's Miss Daffy is almost as great a witch as Master Harry is a wizard!" Then he seemed to break down and cry.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Dobby, please stop," she begged. "I need you to tell me something important."

With a last few sniffles Dobby wiped his eyes on his sleeve and asked, "Yes, Miss Daffy?"

"You can track the blood of your master, right?"

"Yes, Miss Daffy!" the little elf beamed. Harry started to suspect the little fellow had a chronic and severe case of Manic Depression.

"Excellent," she firmly stated. "The next time the Headmaster is out of his office and private quarters, can you sneak in and see if there's any of Master Harry's blood in there? And report back to us if there is, and where it is?"

"Dobby can do that," the little elf excitedly said, pleased to be able to help, as it dawned on Harry just how simple that was.

"Good, very good," Daphne sighed. "Thank you, Dobby."

"Yous welcome, Miss Daffy," Dobby replied, before popping away again.

"That's brilliant!" said Harry, a little in awe of how smart his pureblood bondmate was. "Lunch?" he suddenly asked.

"Good idea," replied Hermione, starting to rise.

The three headed back down to the Great Hall.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ

As they did the previous weekend, the three were waiting in the Entrance Hall for the arrival of the solicitor for their 'interview'.

And, almost on the dot except for being a couple minutes early, a somewhat middle-aged wizard walked in the door with a younger woman. Both were carrying business satchels.

As soon as his eyes alit on Harry, he stepped forward and offered his hand. "Mister Potter? I'm Stewart Ackerman, solicitor at law."

Harry shook the man's hand, who then turned to the woman and said, "And this lady is Miss Margaret Pentridge."

Harry surprised her by offering his hand for a handshake. Then, he turned back to the man indicating his bondmates and said, "And these two ladies are my bondmates... Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Daphne Greengrass."

"Miss Greengrass and I have met before," Mister Ackerman explained. "However, it's a pleasure to meet you for the first time, Miss Granger."

"Now," said Harry. "I'm afraid we're all going to have to trudge all the way up to the seventh floor, Sir and Ma'am. That's where our apartment is."

"No need to go that far, Mister Potter," replied Mister Ackerman. "There's a conference room on the second floor we can use."

"There is?" asked Harry, quite surprised. "Hmm... then, I guess you'd best lead."

With a nod of his head, Ackerman led the way up the stairs to the second floor and towards the north tower.

They'd not gone far when Ackerman spied a door and said, "Here it is!" And pushed it open.

Inside was, indeed, set up as a conference room.

He and Miss Pentridge move to one side of the long table and set their business satchels on the surface. When Harry and the girls moved to the other side, Ackerman drew his wand and began to cast, first, detection spells around the room, before then casting privacy wards. He also both locked and placed a silencing bubble around the room's only portrait, even though it was currently uninhabited.

When it looked like the two were finished, Daphne muttered, "Just a minute." And went to the only door. She first cast a strong door sealing charm with a password protection on it, before also placing a silencing bubble around it.

When she turned around she noticed the looks on the faces of their two visitors. She calmly said, "The Headmaster has been known to invite himself to any and all meetings within the castle."

With a nod of recognition, the two visitors waited until the three teens took their seats opposite before they took theirs.

"Now, Mister Potter, Miss Greengrass and Miss Granger," said Ackerman, nodding to each of them. "Mister Greengrass has informed me you have need of our services regarding a number of legal issues. He informed us we would need to provide criminal case expertise... that's me... and defamation expertise... that's Miss Pentridge, here.

"However, he said we would need to talk to you, direct, in order to understand the full scope of your legal needs. Perhaps it would be best if you were to outline for us what those needs entail."

"Yes, Sir," nodded Harry. "First, I'd like your confirmation that what we're about to tell you is held in confidence?"

"It is," Ackerman firmly replied.

"Good. To the criminal matter first, then. We need you to, as quietly as you can, organise a trial for my godfather, Sirius Orion Black," said Harry.

"The escaped mass murder?" Ackerman asked in surprise.

"No, Sir," Harry firmly replied. "The escaped innocent man; who was unlawfully tossed into Azkaban without even a trial or proper questioning."

With a look of complete initial shock, the solicitor stared back at Harry for a few moments before he suddenly started to look quite angry. "You mean to tell me that Sirius Black, the man who has a Kiss-on-Sight order against him, never even had a trial?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Sir," replied Harry. "Furthermore, the actual criminal is Peter Pettigrew; the one to whom they supposedly issued a posthumous Order of Merlin. He is both alive and is a marked Death Eater. I've met them both.

"Sirius Black is my sworn godfather. If he had even attempted to harm me, or cause harm to befall me, he would be dead. That he isn't is proof, right there, that he did not betray my parents and me to Riddle."

"Riddle?" asked Ackerman, a little confused.

"Sorry," grinned Harry. "Tom Marvolo Riddle; Voldemort's real name."

Again, both solicitors stared back at him in shock.

Daphne chuckled and said, "Harry, I think you broke them."

Ackerman snapped out of his stupefaction first and, with a somewhat accusatory look, asked, "How do you know this?"

"As to the first, as I said, I've met both my godfather, Sirius Black, and Pettigrew," explained Harry. "Pettigrew is an unregistered animagus; and his form is that of a common brown rat. Until only a few months ago, he's been hiding out as the pet of Ron Weasley; a boy in the same year as us. Until recently Weasley was both a friend and dorm-mate of mine.

"Sirius escaped from Azkaban because he saw a picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet that showed the Weasleys, who had recently won the Prophet's Grand Prize Draw. Fudge threw a copy of that issue of the Prophet at my godfather in his cell... while he was doing his so-called annual inspection... to taunt him with how the world was getting on without him.

"Instead, my godfather saw Pettigrew in his animagus form being held in the hand of Ron Weasley, who was standing with his family in the front page photograph. Sirius put two and two together and figured out that I was, at the time, sharing a dorm in Gryffindor tower with the boy; and, therefore, the rat - Pettigrew.

"Sirius, as my sworn godfather, saw it as his duty to immediately escape and come to my aid. Which he did.

"So, Sirius Black did not escape Azkaban with the intention of coming to harm me; he escaped with the intention of coming to protect me, as he was sworn to do."

When both solicitors nodded back, understanding, he continued, "As to the second, how I know Riddle and Voldemort is one and the same person..."

"Hold it," interrupted Ackerman, holding up his hand. "We'll get to He-Who... Merlin, V-Voldemort in a moment."

He then opened his satchel and drew forth parchment, ink and a quill, and set to writing. "I need to get down the details about Black, first," he muttered.

As he wrote he asked more and more specific questions. And, once he was finished, he slid the parchment aside and leaned back.

"So," he began. "Crouch, on the orders of Bagnold, just threw Black into Azkaban. As far as you know, there will be no record of questioning, archive of evidence, or even a record of trial. Black is, in fact, innocent; and, even if he wasn't, he should still be free because he was never tried and found guilty.

"You've met the man; most recently last June in the Shrieking Shack, here, in Hogsmeade. Plus, you also spoke with Pettigrew when he was forced out of his animagus form and admitted to being guilty of the attack on your parent's cottage, and the murder of the thirteen muggles, and that he'd taken the Dark Mark.

"Further, you've explained all this to the Minister, yet he still tried to get Black 'Kissed'. On top of that, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin also know this to be true."

"That's right," replied Harry. "As does Hermione, here," he continued, indicating Hermione, who nodded back in confirmation.

"And Ron Weasley," Hermione added.

"The man doesn't need a trial, he needs to be exonerated!" Ackerman exclaimed.

"No," Harry replied shaking his head. "He must have a trial, or the best approximation of one. No one will believe his innocence unless he gets one and is publicly exonerated. Fudge, as I've explained, will bury it unless you do. He does not want the Ministry... or, rather, himself... embarrassed by it coming out that Sirius was incarcerated in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. He'd rather see the man Kissed so he can hide it."

"Well," sighed Ackerman. "You've got me on board." Leaning forward, he said, "I'll need memories of all that you've witnessed on this. I doubt even Amelia Bones will aid us without them."

Already prepared, Harry drew a clean phial out of his robes and drew his wand. Holding the wand to his temple he drew forth a copy of the memory of the meeting in the Shrieking Shack before letting it drop into the phial, and corked it.

Handing it across to Ackerman, he explained, "That's the entirety of the meeting in the Shrieking Shack. I believe it's probably all you're going to need, memory-wise."

Nodding, Ackerman pulled a wooden box out of his satchel and placed the phial with the memory strand within it into it. "You're right. That should be enough to get Bones on side with this."

"But, remember," Harry cautioned. "You need to careful with this. If Fudge, or any of his lackeys, get wind of this, he will do all that he can to make sure it never comes to trial."

"Understood, Mister Potter," replied Ackerman. "Now," he moved on. "Perhaps you can tell me how you know You-Know-Who's name is really this Tom whatever."

"May I have a small sheet of parchment, your ink and quill, please," asked Harry.

Once the solicitor handed them over, Harry quickly wrote out I AM LORD VOLDEMORT on one line; then, about three inches lower, wrote out TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. Then he drew lines between both, matching the letters up. Before he finally spun the parchment about and slid it back across to Ackerman.

Ackerman took a long look at what Harry had done before he looked back up at Harry in surprise. "An anagram!" he softly exclaimed.

"Yes, Sir," replied Harry. "Riddle was a student, here, in the late thirties and early forties, in Slytherin. He was given an Award for Services to the School in 1943 for fingering Rubeus Hagrid for the crime of releasing Slytherin's monster, a basilisk, upon the school. A Ravenclaw student named Myrtle Cummings was killed. She's now the ghost known as Moaning Myrtle. He then went on to become the Head Boy in 1945 off the back of that.

"However, it was Riddle who had found the chamber and released the basilisk, not Hagrid. Riddle's trademark when he killed people was to set it up so that another was fingered for the crime. He did the same thing when he killed his father, paternal grandfather and paternal grandmother... and memory charmed his maternal uncle to force the man to admit to the crime.

"He went on, after leaving school and while working for Borgin & Burkes, to murder Hepzibah Smith... pointing the evidence to Smith's house elf, Hokey.

"After killing Smith, he almost immediately took off for the continent, where he remained for about ten years. When he came back, he came back as Lord Voldemort. That was 1957."

"Sweet Merlin," said a passionate Ackerman. "That's quite the tale."

"Ministry records will contain most of the information you can check if you want to check my facts," shrugged Harry. "However, that's not one of my tasks I have for you and your firm."

"Yes," said Ackerman, recognising the point to get back on track. "You also wanted assistance with matters relating to defamation."

"Yes," said Harry. "For what has occurred in the past and what is likely to come."

"And just how have you been defamed, Mister Potter?" he asked.

"You know all those books? - Harry Potter and the... - for a start, not one of them is true. Plus, no one has ever approached me for my permission to use my name, image or anything similar. I want them stopped and sued," explained Harry. "I also want your firm to go after all those who have used my name to promote their products, no matter how small or considered inconsequential. Again, none of them have had my permission to do so. That's to start with."

While he was talking, Miss Pentridge was writing down the instructions on her own parchment.

"I also want to retain your services to protect my reputation in future," Harry continued. "During my second year here, I was continually slandered and sneered at because people believed I was the Heir of Slytherin, and was responsible for the Chamber of Secrets being reopened. I do not want to see that happen ever again.

"Further, after the Prophet announced... without our permission, mind... that us three were part of a three-way soul bond, we were inundated with abusive mail and packages designed with the intent of causing one or more of us harm. I will not stand for that. I want the management of the Prophet well and truly smacked down for it, with a warning never to do it again... else, face my legal wrath. You."

Nodding, as she was writing, Miss Pentridge replied, "We can do all that. I take it you want recompense for the use of your name and image?"

"Yes, but I only want to keep enough to pay for your services," replied Harry. "The rest I want to eventually set aside for a Foundation in my mother's name to aid muggleborn in getting their start in the wizarding world. My direct instruction for this is, 'Bleed the mongrels dry!'

"I also want an article to appear in the Daily Prophet, Teen Witch Weekly and Witch Weekly that decries the nonsense written in those books as the sheer fantasy they are. My life was... is... nothing like that. It's led to people believing things about me that are patently untrue."

With a sigh, he said, "My bondmates and I will soon be spending time, in part, talking about my life to date. I actually have no interest in telling people about my life. However, I've now been convinced that clearing-the-air about it can go a long way towards healing the psychological and emotional damage I've sustained since that dreadful Halloween night.

"Do you want Daphne and I to write it all down for you, Harry?" Hermione softly asked.

"Yeah," he sighed, looking to both bondmates. "But, let me get it all off my chest, first; on Friday. Then, we can go back and you two can write it all down, alright?"

"Alright, love," she replied with a similar verbal nod from Daphne.

"I also want another notice, on another day, that apologises to the wizarding world for my not responding to all the letters, gifts and the like that have been sent to me these past thirteen years," Harry requested. "Albus Dumbledore, it seems, felt the need to intercept my mail and redirect it to a storeroom, here, in the castle. I only found out about that a few days ago. And it's going to take me a very long time to go through it all and start answering folks back."

"He intercepted your mail?" asked Pentridge, with an angry little moue.

"He did," nodded Harry. "And he didn't tell me he was doing it, either. It wasn't until I screamed at him enough about how I was supposed to be everyone's hero, and yet hadn't heard a word from any of them, that he finally relented enough to show me where it's all being stored. There're literally shelves upon shelves of it all."

"We could go after him for that," she frowned.

"We could," replied Harry. "However, I think it was Dumbledore more doing it, as he said, to protect me from those who would attempt me harm using the mail system; rather than him just wanting to deny me my mail. Sure, there might have been that involved, too. However, I have no proof that was his leading reason.

"What I have impressed upon him already, however, is that I am not too happy with him for doing it, and then not letting me know the mail was there during my first year, or since. He's had ample time to hand it all to me, and didn't. If he continues to do it... or does it again... you have my permission to go after him with, as the muggles say, both barrels."

"The mail redirection should have been removed by now, Harry," said Daphne. "We should begin our plans for moving it and begin going through it all after this meeting."

Harry nodded back and said, "You're right. Thank you, Daphne."

"Alright," said Ackerman. "Is that all you have for us, Mister Potter?"

Checking with his bondmates, who both nodded back, Harry said, "Yes, Sir."

"Good," said Ackerman, as he and Miss Pentridge began to put all their notes and writing implements away. "I'll have a retainer contract sent to you for signing some time after Monday. I'll mark where you need to sign. Once it's signed, so long as you don't make any changes... and I recommend you don't... the contract will automatically be filed with the relevant authorities. It will be replaced by your own copy before you."

Once the two solicitors were packed, the five stood and walked to the door. Ackerman and Daphne removed the various charms and locks before Ackerman opened the door as if to step out.

As soon as the door opened, they saw Dumbledore standing on the other side frowning.

He took one look at Harry and said, "Mister Potter, I assumed I would be invited to any meeting you would have with others, other than family, within my school."

Stepping out, Ackerman asked him, "And why would you make such an assumption, Mister Dumbledore."

Switching to sternly look at Ackerman, Dumbledore said, "I prefer Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Really?" Ackerman asked with an almost predatory smile. "If you are making such enquiries as Headmaster, then you are abusing your position and authority of that title. Are you sure you want to be referred to as 'Headmaster', rather than 'Mister'?"

Dumbledore scowled back but, instead of answering, began, "Loco parentis..." before Ackerman smoothly cut in.

"... Would be the responsibility of Professor Filius Flitwick, as his assigned Head of House, Mister Dumbledore."

Dumbledore scowled deeper before he chose to ignore the man and turn back to Harry. "Mister Potter, I should have been made aware you were entertaining visitors before they were allowed onto school grounds..."

"I sought permission from, and was granted such permission, from Professor Flitwick, Sir," Harry smoothly replied. "I believe that was the correct course of action, in this instance. Was it not?"

Without a word and a small scowl, after a long moment Dumbledore spun about and stalked off down the corridor.

"Controlling, manipulative old..." muttered Harry before Hermione cut him off.

"Harry," she lowly scolded.

As they all filed out into the corridor, Ackerman asked, "Is he always like this?"

"When it comes to me? Yes," replied Harry.

"Keep me appraised, then," said Ackerman.

The three teens escorted the two solicitors back to the main doors of the castle before bidding them goodbye.

As the two walked back up the main driveway, Harry asked his two bondmates, "What next?"

"Let's go find a classroom somewhere near the seventh floor we can use to sort your mail," replied Hermione.

"Good idea," said Daphne.

And the three headed up stairs.

_‗_

—==(oIo)==—

ˇ