Here's yet another bit of insanity by your friendly neighborhood wordsmith. While I know there's a large pile of backwork on other stories to be done, just be thankful I'm actually able to write anything at the moment - life in the Real World this last year hasn't left me with much in the way of Musings. If I'm able to sustain any sort of rhythm I may be able to restart several of my longer ongoing tales. Sometime.
In the meanwhile, please enjoy this new bit of frightfully fractured prose.
Ranma ½ is owned by Rumiko Takahashi and her merry support staff. Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and company. I make no claim to either - I just enjoy smashing two universes together and watching the resulting fallout occur. You have been warned.
The Ranma side of the story begins right at the end of the Ranma ½ manga, after the Saffron/Jusendo adventure in the final two volumes and immediately after the last frame of the Final Wedding Chaos scene.
The Harry Potter side of the story begins at the end of Harry's fifth year and after the events detailed in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It must be categorized as an Alternate Universe story in that the events of the last two books (Half Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows) are considered to have never occurred.
It was the little things that hurt the worst. In this case, it was several armloads of little things and a couple of rather large ones piled on top for good measure. And, as it seemed to occur on a depressingly regular basis, every single one of those things had hit Ranma squarely in the chest.
Literally.
He groaned as he opened his eyes. The combination of meat-bun bombs from Shampoo and gunpowder okonomiyaki from Ukyou had shredded Ranma's wedding tuxedo and left a large number of definite and painful impressions across his ... damn it, he's still a girl ... her entire body. The happodaikarins which immediately followed the loss of the nanniichuan water had added considerable damage as well as robbing her of consciousness for an undetermined length of time.
Ranma slowly sat up and winced at the sharp pain in her left torso. It felt like a couple of broken ribs for sure, and the way her right ankle was swollen and throbbing probably meant a bad sprain at best. Add to that numerous burns, bruises, a splitting headache, and temporary hearing loss, and she was feeling quite miserable. She was also irritated with herself over being caught unaware several times in succession, which served to make the resulting injuries more extensive than she was used to dealing with. Of course, the whole "Get Ambushed With A Surprise Wedding" bit had caught her unaware as well.
And the fact that everyone had just left her there laying amongst the wreckage was telling. Her life really sucked rocks at times.
Damn, why did they all have to ruin things now? It had been less than a month since they had returned from Jusendo and things barely had time to settle back into a routine. She and Akane had been coming to a good understanding regarding their family situation, and it looked like they might actually have been able to figure everything out for once. At least she thought that they had reached an understanding, but Akane's sudden reversal on the wedding now cast everything into an entirely different light. Whatever happened in the future, it was obvious that Akane would never accept him as long as she was around.
Ranma's shoulders slumped. It just wasn't fair, not fair at all. It's not as if she had asked to be engaged to anyone in the first place, let alone having multiple fiancées to worry about. And who knows how many more were out there waiting in the wings to appear at the least opportune moment. At least Pops hadn't tried engaging her to any guys yet, thank the kami for small favors. Well, he better not have ... for his own sake.
One thing had become painfully clear - her habit of passive resistance was going to have to change, and the sooner the better. None of the current circle of fiancées and their associated groupies were willing to just give up on their own, and letting the situation just drift along was no longer acceptable. Akane had died at Jusendo - Ranma was certain of that - and it was a minor miracle she'd been given a second chance with her drop-dead-gorgeous-but-uncute fiancée. It was a chance she wasn't going to squander any longer.
The Kunos were so dead. Ukyou ... was going to be a problem, and she'd have to come up with something for the old ghoul so Shampoo could go home without being killed by her own tribe. Something that didn't involve a certain pig-tailed martial artist becoming a second class house-husband, that is. The Tendos would be the trickiest of all to deal with, but there had to be something she could do which didn't also include her tomboy in the fallout. Even if she had to invent Anything Goes Martial Arts Socializing to permanently solve the fiancée mess, she would find a way to deal with it.
Ranma slowly stood up and put a tiny amount of weight on her right foot. The resulting spike of pain was sharp but not excruciating, which confirmed a bad sprain instead of a broken ankle. If she was careful she wouldn't injure it any further before she could get it properly wrapped up and supported. She cast her eye around the dojo for something she could use as a temporary crutch and noticed a bright glint of silver down on the floor next to the remains of the nanniichuan casket scattered amongst several broken shoji. A couple of careful one-legged hops netted her a nice length of board and a rather ornate silver ring that someone must have dropped in the general confusion.
Of course, with her luck it would end up being something the old pervert dropped. Wouldn't that just make her day complete.
Well, whoever dropped it would undoubtedly be coming back for it sometime in the near future - it was worth too much to be simply forgotten. It was obviously made for a man, and had a rather unusual design on the face. The ring itself was solid sterling, and had jet inlays of an upright chevron across the middle with two stars on either side above and a dagger centered immediately below. The band had some saying engraved around the back, but she didn't recognize the words or the language it was written in.
Ranma swayed uneasily as a wave of dizziness passed through her. She grimaced in pain, the headache had just gotten a lot worse and the ringing in her ears seemed even louder if that was possible. She mentally added a possible concussion to her list of current injuries. A second intense wave of dizziness made her drop her board-crutch, and before she could catch her balance she felt a sharp tug from behind her naval and her vision exploded in a vertiginous whirlwind of light and sound. She felt herself falling and tumbling and whirling and falling ever faster and it was almost a relief when her senses finally overloaded and everything faded to black.
He hated waiting, he really did. Unfortunately, years of involuntary servitude at number four, Privet Drive had given Harry far too much experience in waiting as well as in hiding his real feelings on the subject. The only consolation Harry could take this time is that in another fortnight his yearly sentence to Lesser Azkaban would be over with - and he only had to endure the pleasure of his relative's company once more after that before he could bid them a final and permanent farewell. He only needed to "go home", as if he could ever think of the Dursley Mausoleum as "home", for a single month in order to renew the blood protection afforded him all these years, and finally knowing why this had been necessary year after year made the month-long stint at least somewhat tolerable.
Somewhat.
Of course, it would have been nice if he had known that particular detail several years ago.
Harry had absolutely dreaded "coming home" this time, but the scene at the station platform when Mr. Weasley, Professor Lupin, Tonks, and Professor Moody had ... talked ... to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had given him a little courage to face his incarceration head on for once. Fortunately, Uncle Vernon's reaction to the "talk", with a couple of exceptions, had been to fall back into his habit of simply denying Harry's existence - a state of affairs Harry heartily approved of. Dudley had been sufficiently cowed that he had yet to initiate any of his usual attempts to "assert his authority". It wouldn't last, of course. Dudley was finally showing signs of reverting to his typical behavior and the chores list had begun to expand in length as the days had passed, but it certainly had been one of the least contentious beginnings to a summer that he could recall. Well, at least with that one exception.
Harry looked about his room once more, mentally checking off all of his possessions for the twelfth time in as many minutes. School trunk, packed. Hedwig in cleaned cage, present. Room, cleaned ... well, as clean as he could ever get it without drastic renovations. He didn't think that the damp musty smell of mildew would ever leave the room without tossing all of the drapes in the trash and replacing them wholesale, and he wasn't about to wait the two centuries required for that to happen. Secret safe, a loose floorboard under his bed, emptied and hidden. Harry slid off the chair next to the window and kneeled down by the edge of his bed, reaching underneath to open his "safe" and verifying by feel that it was indeed completely empty before securing it closed once more.
Harry wasn't going to leave a single item of his behind, even if it was only for a single weekend. He manfully ignored Hedwig's almost amused-sounding hoot at his actions.
Harry sighed - he wasn't really looking forward to tomorrow given the circumstances, even if it did allow him part of a weekend away from the wonders of the Dursleys' company. The meeting at Gringotts was going to be painful, but the alternative would be even worse. He smoothed out the parchment containing the summons and read it through again.
Fenton Fitzgerald & Salisbury Ltd., Solicitors
3 Leicester Place, LondonDear Master Potter,
Your presence is requested for a hearing at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Diagon Alley, the morning of Saturday, July 6th, 1996 at 11:00 a.m. to determine the validity of claims against the estate of Sirius Black (dec). The status of Fenton Fitzgerald & Salisbury as executors of the Black Estate probate has been challenged by the firm of Tidmarsh & Butterworth via a claim of Administration cum testamento annexo on behalf of the Malfoy family. In light of the conflicting claims, Mr. Garsnak of Gringotts Wizarding Bank has assumed Administration pendente lite status as mandated by Ministry directives (re Jewkes vs Rackharrow, Treaty of Honister Pass).
Failure to appear at this hearing may result in the forfeiture of all current and future entitlements and claims against the Black Estate. Your attention to this matter is greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,
David Fitzgerald, Legum Magister
FF&S Ltd.
An owl had delivered the scroll right in the middle of Tuesday's dinner, and Mount Vernon had erupted in a rather spectacular manner as a result. When his uncle had made a grab for the scroll and it tried to bite him in return, Harry was almost afraid Uncle Vernon would die of apoplexy right there and then. When his uncle started bellowing at him in response, Harry had snatched the scroll off the table and bid a hasty retreat up to his room. The locks reappeared on his bedroom door shortly afterward. Fortunately they were removed the following morning - just in time for him to prepare breakfast as usual.
Harry had sent a copy of the scroll to Professor Dumbledore that evening, along with a note explaining his plans to take the Knight Bus on Friday evening and stay overnight at the Leaky Cauldron like he had before. He looked over at the other scroll laying next to the Gringotts message and sighed.
Dear Harry,
Please do not attempt to make your own way to the meeting you so kindly informed me of; doing so is entirely too dangerous in light of the increased activities of the Death Eaters. Instead, if it is convenient for you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive, this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you back to Hogwarts for the weekend. From there I will arrange safe transport to and from your meeting the following morning. I do hope you appreciate the severity of the danger you would subject yourself to if you were to follow your original plans and travel unescorted and unprotected.
On a more pleasant note, the arrangements for you to spend a portion of your summer vacation at the Burrow remain intact. I must ask for your continued patience as the task to increase the security of the premises cannot be rushed and the earliest possible date in which it would be safe for you to arrive is the morning of the twentieth. We will discuss this in more detail at a later time.
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday.
I am, yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Harry really hated waiting, and staring out the window in vain hope of an even earlier rescue didn't make the passage of time any less agonizing. His window afforded him a reasonable view of both ends of Privet Drive, but there had been a marked lack of activity of any sort for the last three hours - a state of affairs not at all unusual in this section of Little Whinging. Even on a Friday evening the neighborhood almost always locked itself up tight after the eight o'clock hour, with the Dursleys absence tonight being a notable exception. Uncle Vernon had decided to take Aunt Petunia and Dudley "on holiday" rather than face the possibility of another encounter with any you know whats.
Harry's heart lurched with a thump when the streetlight outside his window suddenly winked out. A glance down at the clock next to his bed read exactly eleven o'clock, and a squinted look out the window showed a tall figure in a long, billowing traveling cloak walking up the garden path. Harry struggled to open the window - which always seemed to stick at the most inopportune time - before the visitor reached the doorbell. The left casement opened with a screech just as the doorbell rang.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" Harry called out the window to the person below, who was currently hidden from his view by the overhang of the porch.
The tall shadowy figure emerged from under the porch and the deep sonorous tones of Dumbledore's voice quickly followed. "Good evening, Harry. It appears that you have been left to your own devices this fine evening."
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, quite relieved now that the headmaster had made his appearance as promised. "Uncle Vernon took Aunt Petunia and Dudley away for the weekend."
"Indeed." A glint briefly flashed off of Dumbledore's half-moon glasses. "Shall I assume that you had the opportunity to inform the Dursleys of my upcoming visit?"
"Yes, sir, I did. I'm fairly sure that's why they left."
"Ah, a pity," said Dumbledore. "I had wished to discuss a few issues of some import with them before we left. In the meantime, is there a specific reason which does not involve a lack of courtesy to explain why I have not as of yet been granted entry to your domicile?"
Harry hoped the headmaster didn't see his sudden flush. "Yes, sir. I'm not allowed to be out of my room when the Dursleys are gone."
"Harry, I daresay that it would be difficult for the Dursleys to closely observe your specific movements about the house at the present time."
"I realize that, sir," Harry replied. His face turned an even deeper shade of red. "It's just that the door to my room is locked."
"Ah. Shall I assume that there is a specific reason why this condition remains unaddressed?"
"Yes, sir. The locks aren't on my side of the door."
A brief moment of silence followed this statement.
"I see. Please be kind enough to meet me down in the hallway in a moment, Harry."
Dumbledore stepped out of view under the porch. Barely a second later Harry heard all of the locks Uncle Vernon had placed on his bedroom door fall to the floor of the hallway with a clatter. The door swung open on its own immediately afterward. Hedwig flapped briefly in her cage and hooted her admonishment at the unexpected noise.
"Sorry, girl," Harry said. He picked up Hedwig's cage in one hand, heaved his trunk up with the other, and then carefully made his way downstairs.
"Please set your belongings down for a moment, Harry," Dumbledore said. "We have a few minor details to discuss before we commence upon this evening's expedition."
Harry gratefully put his trunk down in the hallway with a thump before setting Hedwig's cage on top. He had been hard pressed not to drop either the trunk or Hedwig's cage while navigating the switchback in the middle of the stairs.
"I trust that the method employed by the Dursleys to insure the relative integrity of the domicile is not something which occurs on a regular basis, is it, Harry?"
"Uhhh ..." Harry replied, scrunching his eyebrows.
"The locks on your door," Dumbledore supplied with a slight frown.
"Oh, that," Harry replied. "Hasn't happened in a while and I really didn't mind it all that much this time since I knew you were coming."
Dumbledore paused for a brief moment, categorizing the unvoiced implications of the youngster's statement. It appeared as if Harry's situation really hadn't improved at all. "Harry, have the Dursleys been treating you properly this year?"
"I'm fine, sir," Harry said, trying to keep his voice even. That question really should have been asked years ago to do any good.
Dumbledore gave Harry a piercing look through his half-moon glasses before softly sighing to himself.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I truly am," said Dumbledore. "It further pains me to inform you that I will be unable to accompany you at your Gringotts meeting tomorrow, as the various treaties the Wizarding World has enacted with the goblin clans over the years prohibits my attendance under these circumstances."
"Sir, did you understand what that message actually said?"
"Yes I did, Harry. The Malfoys are attempting to invalidate the will which Sirius wrote several months ago. I am quite certain that Sirius intended to leave all of his possessions to you, along with the portions of the Black Family Estates which he personally controlled. Amongst the items included in this category is the property at number twelve, Grimmauld Place."
"He gave it to me?" Harry replied softly. It hurt to even think about it - especially since he never wanted to step foot inside that wretched house again.
"I believe that was his intention, yes. The situation does present the Order with a rather difficult dilemma, I am sorry to say."
Harry looked up at Dumbledore, blinking back the moisture which had begun to accumulate in the corners of his eyes. "You can have it. I don't really care. The Order might as well make some use of it - I certainly won't."
"That is quite generous, Harry," Dumbledore replied, his eyes soft behind his half-moon glasses. "Doing so, however, depends upon you receiving a favorable ruling by Mr. Garsnak on the morrow. If the Malfoys succeed in invalidating the current will, there is a distinct possibility everything may go directly to Sirius's eldest living relative. I do not relish the prospect of allowing Bellatrix Lestrange to take possession of the property."
Harry's throat tightened in rage at the thought - he would not allow Sirius's killer the satisfaction of taking the house. It just wasn't right!
"In the meantime, the Order has been forced to vacate the premises until legal ownership of the property is settled without dispute. I caution you to be careful, but I must also ask that you do everything within your power to receive a favorable ruling at this hearing. Do not under any circumstance allow either Malfoy or their solicitor to bait you into reacting in an emotional manner as they are certain to attempt - doing so will only predispose Mr. Garsnak against you. Goblins generally do not respect those who indulge in uncontrolled displays of emotions during the course of a negotiation."
Harry thought about all the times Draco had managed to get under his skin and sighed, his shoulders slumping noticeably. "Great."
"I quite agree, Harry," said Dumbledore. "You are faced with a very difficult period of your life at the moment and it saddens me no end that I am not able to assist you in a more direct manner this weekend. Now, on a related subject, I gather that you have been perusing the contents of the Daily Prophet during the fortnight since leaving Hogwarts?"
"Yes," Harry growled. The wizarding press coverage had always been a sore spot with him - even more so over the last two weeks.
"Then you have observed that your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy has been documented to a much greater extent than one could have wished."
"Yes," Harry growled again. "And now everyone knows that I'm the ..."
"No, they do not," Dumbledore interrupted. "The full contents of the prophecy concerning yourself and Lord Voldemort are known to only two people, both of whom are standing in this very hallway at the moment. A fair number, however, have correctly guessed the general context of the encounter, which was that Voldemort sent a number of Death Eaters into the Ministry to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy directly pertained to the Boy Who Lived."
"That's almost as bad."
"To some extent I agree, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "However, am I correct in assuming that you have not shared the full contents of the prophecy with any of your friends or schoolmates?"
"No I haven't," said Harry.
"That was very thoughtful of you ... and quite wise, if I may add," said Dumbledore. "I do, however, think that it might be best if you were to take your two closest friends into your confidence in this matter. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger both care deeply for your welfare, and you do them a disservice by keeping something of this importance from them."
"But sir ..." Harry started.
"Yes, I think both of them should know, Harry. I realize you thought you were protecting them, but you need the direct support of your friends. Both of them are eminently capable of dealing with the knowledge and the myriad implications that knowledge entails."
"But I ..." replied Harry, before sighing. "Yes, sir."
"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore said in a much lighter voice. "Now, we should be off. I shall, of course, restore the particulars of the Dursleys' residence to their previous state, so that you will not have to deal with any future imprecations related to this evening's activities."
Dumbledore drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it. He flicked it about with a brief but casual gesture and Harry heard a clatter from up the stairs - no doubt Uncle Vernon's locks returning to their positions on his bedroom door. The front door swung open with another subtle flick of the wand. As soon as Dumbledore's hand stopped its movement, Harry noticed that it was blackened and shriveled as if most of the flesh had been burned away without being healed.
"Sir, your ..."
"Later, Harry," said Dumbledore. "We must be off if we are to return to Hogwarts before the evening has completely expired." The headmaster turned and glided gracefully out the front door. Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage and his trunk and hurried out of the house behind the elderly wizard. The door to number four, Privet Drive swung silently closed behind him.
It was official - Harry did not like portkey travel one bit. He imagined it was somewhat akin to hitching a ride on a tornado, and it was with considerable relief when he found himself safely inside the entrance hall of Hogwarts after the kaleidoscopic flash of light and sound. Professor Dumbledore immediately left him in the exuberant care of Dobby, and he spent a short but troubled night in the Gryffindor Tower dormitory. The morning arrived far too quickly for his liking and in spite of Dobby's effervescent cheer Harry couldn't help feeling both depressed and angry over the upcoming meeting. It was bad enough that the circumstances were forcing him to face the fact his godfather was never coming back, but then to have Draco bloody Malfoy try to claim what little legacy Sirius intended to pass along to him was almost too much to bear.
Of course, Dumbledore's little lecture right after breakfast about "keeping your temper" and "just do your best" didn't help things any, either, and it was becoming quite obvious to Harry that the headmaster was really only concerned about the immediate fate of number 12, Grimmauld Place. Harry was beginning to doubt that he would have even been informed about the probate dispute had Sirius's will not specifically involved the Black family house. Fortunately the lecture was relatively short-lived and after a brief flurry of activity getting him appropriately dressed for the meeting Harry found himself waiting for his "escort" in one of the unused first-floor classrooms. Dumbledore had reconfigured the room into a vestibule, complete with a small table, chairs, fireplace, and several bookshelves filled with various textbooks.
Harry really hated waiting around, especially when no one would ever tell him anything useful. He had begun browsing the titles of the various textbooks in desperation when the door to the hallway finally opened after a good quarter hour had elapsed.
"Wotcher, Harry?" Tonks said with a wave of her hand.
"Mornin, Harry," Hagrid added, following the lavender-haired metamorph into the room. The Hogwarts gameskeeper was dressed in a long dragon-hide coat which actually looked new; Harry recognized the scaly, lurid-green material from what the twins wore a couple of weeks ago on the platform. He also noticed that Tonks was made up more than usual - she looked really pretty right now.
"Morning, Tonks, Hagrid," Harry replied, his face breaking out in a sunny smile. "I'm glad you two got stuck with the minding chores today. Hagrid, you're worth a squad all by yourself."
"Yeah, jus' like old times, innit?" Hagrig boomed back, obviously pleased at Harry's remark.
"Hagrid is a whole squad by himself, Harry," Tonks quipped.
"A good thing too, considering the current state of the Ministry," Remus Lupin interjected from the open doorway. Harry's eyes widened slightly when he turned and saw the older man no longer looked like he was wearing Dudley's cast-offs; Professor Lupin was dressed smartly in a new dark-grey suit and robe, and even his shoes were new and shined. Harry couldn't help notice, however, that the new outfit didn't match the appearance of Lupin's face, which was as pale as usual and lined with worry, his eyes bloodshot and heavy with dark, puffy rings.
Lupin was followed in the room by a stranger dressed in expensive suit and robes. The man's height and medium build, silver hair, round-rimmed glasses, and confident carriage gave him quite a distinguished look without the haughty arrogance Harry had seen in far too many older wizards.
"Harry, this is David Fitzgerald of Fenton Fitzgerald and Salisbury," Lupin said. "He wanted to meet with you in person before we went over to Gringotts today. David, this is Harry James Potter."
"Good morning, Master Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," the solicitor said, who then extended a hand out to the shorter teenager.
"Good morning, Mister Fitzgerald," Harry replied. He briefly shook the older man's hand. "And it's just Harry, please."
"Very well, Just Harry, I'm Just David in that case," Fitzgerald said with a crooked smile, his comment eliciting a chuckle from the other occupants in the room. "I've had the pleasure of handling your parents' legal affairs for a fair number of years and I apologize for that dreadful form letter I was required to send you last week. The Ministry believes in the Big Stick Theory when it comes to paperwork, I'm sorry to say."
Harry nodded - he could certainly see how that could happen.
"Now, before we begin," Fitzgerald continued, "I need to know if you want this conversation to be completely confidential. You can insist that everyone else leave the room if you want total privacy, or you can require that anyone not of your immediate family swear a standard Oath Of Confidentiality if you wish for them to remain while we discuss your affairs. Normally, being a minor, you would need your guardian's permission before entering into any legal or formal business agreements, but under your current circumstances you are allowed to make these decisions for yourself. Personally I would recommend that, at the very least, Mr. Lupin should be involved in the discussions, given that certain aspects of this situation involve him directly."
"Actually, I think it would be best if I didn't hear anything," Tonks said, walking towards the door. "After all, I can't be ordered to tell the Ministry anything I don't actually know. C'mon, Hagrid, let's let these three get bored to tears by themselves."
"Yeah, I figure yer right bout that, Tonks," Hagrid replied, following the auror out the door. "Don't figure I'd unnerstand what they be talkin' bout anyway."
"Ummm," Harry said as he watched his two friends leave without being asked. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Professor Lupin.
"You've got really good friends, you know that, don't you Harry?" Lupin said. Harry nodded once before looking back at the door, which closed quietly behind the huge gamekeeper.
"I suggest we get comfortable," Fitzgerald said, walking over to one of the chairs. He put his satchel up on the table and proceeded to pull out a tall stack of expensive-looking papers before sitting down. "We got a number of issues to address before the hearing today, and we're starting to run short of time. First, do you agree to allow Remus John Lupin be party to the following discussion?"
Harry nodded. "Absolutely." He walked over and took a seat to the left of the solicitor. Lupin followed Harry over and sat on the other side of Mr. Fitzgerald.
"Remus John Lupin, do you understand the confidential nature of this discussion and agree to keep all matters discussed here today private, outside of any overriding legal or legislative requirements?"
"I do and so agree," Lupin replied.
"Good," Fitzgerald said with a nod. "Now that that is over with, Harry, I need you to sign this form which authorizes me to act in your behalf in all matters pertaining to the probate and administration of the estate of Sirius Black of Blackhaven. This authorization is limited strictly to the handling of this estate - if you wish representation pertaining to issues concerning the Potter Trust or other legal matters, we will need to make additional arrangements at a later time."
Harry looked down at the form which the solicitor had slid to him. He glanced over to Lupin, who nodded back at him. He picked up the quill Fitzgerald had placed next to the parchment and signed his name in big, flowing letters. When Harry placed the quill back down on the table, he was startled when the solicitor suddenly grabbed his right wrist with surprising strength and brought the back of Harry's hand up near his glasses.
Fitzgerald examined the back of Harry's hand for several seconds before he turned and stared hard at the youngster.
"Who did this?" His question came out cold and clipped. Lupin craned his neck over to see what the solicitor was referring to, and his face suddenly hardened in response.
Harry stared down at the table, trying to keep his embarrassment from showing in his face. A moment of harsh silence elapsed.
"Harry, I'm not angry at you," Fitzgerald finally said after realizing what the youngster's response meant. "I need to know who did this to you so we can sue them for every single Knut they own before we get them tossed into Azkaban without a key. Using such a dark artifact on anyone, let alone a minor, is heinous and should not ... it can not be tolerated."
Harry finally extricated his hand from the solicitor's grip and quickly hid it under the table. "Forget it, it won't do any good."
"Harry, please ..." Lupin began.
"Just forget it, okay?"
Fitzgerald scowled - this was not a reaction he had expected at all. "Harry, we need to bring this to the Ministry's attention so that ..."
Harry sprang to his feet; his chair flung behind him in a clatter. "THE MINISTRY'S BLOODY WELL RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE, SO DON'T TELL ME HOW THOSE ARSEHOLES ARE GOING TO DO ONE RUDDY THING ABOUT IT."
The silence was sudden - the only thing disturbing it was Harry's labored breathing as he fought to get his temper back under control. Harry finally turned and picked his chair back up off the floor before sitting down in an obvious huff.
"Harry, that makes it even more important for me to I know what happened," Fitzgerald said in a soft tone.
"Umbridge. Detention. Doing Lines," Harry finally responded.
"This was done to you at Hogwarts?" Lupin asked.
Harry simply nodded.
"What on Earth did you do which led her to think this was an appropriate punishment?"
"Nothing," Harry replied bitterly. "Absolutely nothing. She made up any excuse she could over and over again - she punished me for simply breathing. She banned me from Quiddich for life. She confiscated my Firebolt. She censored all my mail. She forced the twins to quit school. She created her own little goon squad of Slytherins and did basically anything she wanted to with Fudge and the Ministry's full backing, so there isn't a single bloody damned thing we can do about it now."
Fitzgerald ran a hand through his silver hair. "Okay, Harry, we'll table this issue for the moment. I'd like for you to come by my office at a later date, however, because in spite of what you may think there are a number of options available to you which you should know about."
Harry nodded. He was more than glad to leave this issue behind him, especially considering Lupin's murderous expression. The last thing Harry needed right now was for Professor Lupin to get himself in serious trouble with the Ministry over an issue which was over and done with as far as Harry was concerned.
"Now, on to the original purpose of this meeting," Fitzgerald said. "Harry, the Malfoy family, in particular Narcissa Black-Malfoy, is attempting to seize control of all of Sirius Black's assets as well as the entire Black Family Trust by claiming Sirius had neither the authority or mental capacity to file a valid will. They are also attempting to dispute the legality of Sirius's bequeaths by claiming conflict between whatever portions of his will which are upheld as valid and the standing regulations regarding the disbursement of assets from a Noble Family trust. Given the size of the Black Trust and the current state of the Malfoys' finances, there is a considerable incentive for her to do everything in her power to seize control of the Black Trust."
Harry frowned. "So this isn't Draco's doing at all, then?"
"Not really," Fitzgerald replied. "Mrs Malfoy is currently in desperate need of a large source of funds to help her extricate her husband from his current incarceration. The Malfoy family's liquid assets in Gringotts are currently frozen pending an "investigation" of Lucius Malfoy's recent activities, and the current Minister of Magic will be unable to unfreeze them for a minimum period of sixty days pending the next full meeting of the Wizengamot.
"Now, I have every confidence that the sections of Sirius's will which deal with his personal assets will be upheld in full by the Gringotts arbiter. The claim that you are not a legal beneficiary due to your blood status is easily countered given that Sirius was your recognized Godfather, and the claim of non compos mentis is laughable given the status of the Blacks as a Noble house. The Most Ancient status will counter any claims based on perceived irregularities in primogeniture. All other claims against the proper probate and administration of his personal assets should be dismissed out of hand.
"The main area of concern we will face in today's hearing will be regarding the status of the larger Black Family Trust. Sirius's will has made several provisions regarding the disbursement of a number of Trust assets, and their validity will depend on the status of the Blackhaven family title. Unfortunately, while Sirius was technically Lord Black of Blackhaven by strict agnatic primogeniture, he never once produced the Black signet ring which officially designates the current Head of Family. Without the seals, it is possible that any provision addressing Black Trust assets will be deemed invalid and unenforceable. In addition, if the Malfoys are able to produce the Black seal, and if Draco Malfoy is capable of assuming the position of Lord Black, they will immediately gain control of the entire Black Trust and can nullify any probate or disbursement of Trust assets. The best we can hope here is that Sirius was accurate in his belief that the signet ring was either permanently lost or destroyed by his brother Regulus and that the Trust itself would default to Gringotts control. I believe in this case that the Gringotts arbiter would allow all of the will's provisions as valid and place the rest of the Black Trust under their own Administration - which would make the vast majority of the Trust unavailable to any claimant for a reasonable number of years.
"Now, what I require from you is a promise to allow me the latitude of presenting your case as I see fit. While this requires a considerable leap of faith on your part, Remus can attest to the fact that I've handled the legal issues of the Potter Trust since your grandparents' time and that I honestly do have your best interests in mind. I have several facts which, if presented at the proper time, could and will significantly sway the outcome of the hearing in a positive manner for your benefit, but none of this will be of use if you allow the Malfoys and their solicitor to bait you into statements which would pre-dispose the arbiter's opinion against you. Can you do this for yourself, Harry?"
Harry searched Mr. Fitzgerald's eyes intently before glancing over to Professor Lupin. Lupin smiled and nodded in encouragement, giving him at the same time the reassurances he needed. He turned back to the solicitor and nodded.
Fitzgerald's smile turned nasty. "You won't regret this, Harry. Tidmarsh and Butterworth have been trying for years, unsuccessfully I might add, to gain Administration of the Potter and Black Trusts, and I'm looking forward to personally buggering David Pryce-Jones's smarmy little arse today. There's an old saying in the legal profession: may the nastiest bastard win, and you've got yourself the biggest rat bastard of them all." He stuck out his hand to Harry and gave him a shark-toothed grin.
Harry firmly shook the solicitor's hand and smiled right back. Fitzgerald then gathered up the pile of papers and put them back in his satchel with a slight flourish. They all stood up from the table, and Harry quietly followed the others out the room.