Entry tags:

-& femmeslash, -& gen, -& het, -& slash, -- elements of victory, -::- length: chaptered fic, -♥ harry/draco

Elements of Victory: Inheritance (3/?)
Title: Elements of Victory
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I making any amount of money off of this.
Pairing: mainly Harry/Draco with other pairings mixed in (het/slash/fslash)
Summary: Tired of Dumbledore's evasiveness, Harry resolves to take his training into his own hands helped by his friends, and of course a certain blond. This leads to the discovery of new powers.
Chapter Word Count: 3000+
Rating: R but not for a good long while...

-x-

"MR. LUPIN!"

Remus snapped out of his shock, "Sorry, I was thrown for a while there." He sat down stiffly on the edge of the indicated armchair and shook his head slightly; maybe he should have expected this. A Will is appropriate after death after all, especially if you have extensive wealth like Sirius. In all honesty though, he hadn't expected to be included in the Will reading, Remus figured that Padfoot would have left everything to his godson, as is only right. Whichever way it still hurt like hell - the memories he'd been suppressing had been yanked out of the depths and were causing him physical pain.

"Well, let's carry on with it then." The goblin nodded after searching Remus' face for signs of possible fainting, finding none he continued, "Mr. Black requested an individual reading to each benefactor in his Will, unless read by the Key. It's a common request, the Key, and of course the Black family has always been one of our more distinguished clients." The goblin smiled greedily.

Remus frowned, "What is a Key?"

Stonecreek's features hardened into seriousness again, "A Key is a specific benefactor in a Will with an individual reading request. The Will must be read to him alone before any other benefactors gain access to the money. In the past families assigned a Key to protect a Will from contention and at the same time ensure an heir's right to the wealth. The Key has control over all contents of a Will, and is the only one allowed to contest any specifics. In this case, Mr. Lupin, that would be you."

He paused to let the information sink in. The werewolf did not seem to be taking it well.

"I don't understand," Remus said after five minutes of silence. He ran his hand through his hair in confusion, "How did Sirius even get to make up a Will, let alone request special provisions?"

"He had an authorised contact in Gringotts who forwarded information to us." Stonecreek looked through a stack of parchments before pulling one out from the bottom of the pile, "I believe it was Weasley, he's one of our curse breakers here, efficient lad." He handed the parchment to Remus, "This is your personal reading. It is an official legal document and may be used in the event of contention. When you finish reading it completely, the Will will unlock. It is requested that you read it immediately."

Remus scrutinised the parchment in his hand. It had his name on the front folded surface. His breath hitched as he traced the words, Remus 'Moony' John Lupin, written in familiar handwriting. He began reading, his eyes moving slowly, committing the words to memory.

Hello Moony!

Guess the fact you're reading this means I've finally done it, pissed the gods off too much this time, didn't I? The good news is that you're still alive, right? Thank Merlin for that, not the me dead part, but the you alive part. That part's great! Bloody amazing actually considering association with me is ninety percent of the time hazardous to general health. At least that's what you told me at Hogwarts. By the way, in case you're beating yourself up about it, both James & I forbid any moping. We absolutely won't have that from you, Mr. Moony!

This is weird, this whole Will business, but you've always yakked on and on about how I never think about the future, blah blah blah. Tuned you out after a while there, mate. So for you and Harry, I did the responsible thing, and wrote a Will. Got in contact with Bill, who helped me out covertly to get my affairs in order. What affairs you may ask my canine friend? Well listen up, and no contesting this Remus. At least not your allocations, I know you have power over it but ignore that. No contesting what I give you Moons, it being my last wish and all.

I know you hate charity, so my last wish is that you live your life without weighing yourself down with guilt. That whole Azkaban business is behind us - mistakes made on both sides - but in true Marauder fashion, we figured it out. Spending time with you andProngslet was all a bloke could have asked for before he kicked it. That and a good shag, say hi to Hestia for me; kinky little bint that one!

But I digress.

I've never been good with the "words" - you've always known - but I know you'd have wanted me to write this out personally and not just have some creepy little goblin write it out in some confusing big words, that only you would understand. I'd probably have ended up signing off my wealth to the Malfoy's or something. So basically the gist of it is, I love you. In that manly way that only I could possess. You were a brother to me. Thanks for putting up with me, even when I did all that stupid stuff that I'm still marvelling at your ability to forgive.

Now that I'm gone, it's you I trust with Harry. Poor kid's lost so much; now me, and I need you to take over. Do what you always did for me when we were at Hogwarts, and cover me, yet again. Just in case the Ministry's taken its head out of its collective arse, I give over to you all guardianship rights of one Harry 'Prongslet' James Potter. That sounded official right? And even if the Ministry still resides up where no sun or intelligence shines, he's yours Moony. Maybe not legally, yet, but in every way that counts in life. Take good care of him, guide him, listen to him, don't lie to him. He hates that as much as I did. It killed me to find out that noone's been listening to him and telling him the truth. Seriously, Remus, be there for him, you both need each other before you brood yourselves into depression damnation.

And for the part you'll hate and sputter indignantly at I'm sure, I'm leaving you the keys to vault #395. All yours now, mate. I set it up in your name and transferred a lovely amount in there for you - oh stop that! No contesting, remember. Anyway, in the event you refuse to accept this, I've left a separate letter filled with a guilt trip worthy of my mother and Molly Weasley combined. You don't want to know what I have planned if that doesn't work. So take the damn keys and live! If it makes you feel better, I left Harry everything else, except for some things for the Weasley's and Hermione. Kiss Molly for me, by the way. I'll miss her cooking and smothering.

So I'm off to see James and bother Lily. I'll even look Reg up, the runt.

Promise me you'll start smiling without crying soon, Moony. Love You!

Messr. Padfoot.

The last words blurred as Remus lost himself to the familiar pain, seeing the paw print sealing the end of the letter.

"Are you contesting anything?" Stonecreek asked quietly.

Remus smiled through his tears, remembering the multiple threats. "No, I might as well honor his last wish, and all."

The goblin nodded approvingly and reached for one of the scrolls to his left and ran his hand down its length to open it. Words seemed to write themselves rapidly in shimmers of dark ink on the previously blank surface.

"The Will is unlocked." Stonecreek cleared his throat, "In sound mind, Sirius Orion Black, Head of the House of Black, authorises this Last Will & Testament as valid, true, and final, unless contested by the appointed Key." He raised his head to look at Remus, "Unfortunately, Lord Black's circumstances were unique and somewhat problematic. But after posthumous acquittal, legal guardianship of Mr. Harry James Potter reverted back to him as appointed godfather from the Potter's Will. Lord Black appointed you as guardian in event of his death, and while valid in Goblin Law, Wizard Law does not allow for werewolves to adopt or acquire legal guardianship status. Lord Black appointed you as trustee of all assets bequeathed to Mr. Potter until he is of legal adult age, which somewhat overrides Wizard Law. This is possible as trustees deal with finances and that is governed by Goblin Law. Other benefactors will be notified, but you will still be responsible for letting Mr. Potter know of his inheritance."

Remus seemed to be taking it all in with detached calm. Stonecreek nodded in approval, "This is for Mr. Potter," he handed Remus an envelope with Harry's name on it, "It's a letter for him from Lord Black.” Remus nodded as he put the envelope in a pocket in the folds of his robes. Stonecreek continued, "All bequeathments are effective immediately," he gave Remus a vault key, "This is the key to your vault." The old goblin hopped off his chair and walked to a crowded bookshelf by the wall. He pulled out a large heavy tome that looked worse for wear, dumping it in Remus' lap. "Those are the records of the House of Black's holdings. Investments, estates, and such. As trustee you'll need to study this and discuss them with Mr. Potter if you wish. A summary report will be sent to you every month, as per Lord Black's request."

A snap of his fingers startled Remus. The door to the office opened, appearing from the wall. Remus hadn't even noticed that they'd been sealed in the office magically. He stood up, still in a mild daze, aware but unaware of himself. He shrunk the heavy tome, and proceeded out of the office and Gringotts, apparating back to his room at the Cauldron. He dropped all the documents and the tome on the table, in a rush. He could feel the wave of pain, moving fast towards him like a tsunami. It crashed on his shores as he fell into the lumpy bed face down.

He felt he deserved a good long purging cry, for at least the next two hours.

HD

“Mr. Malfoy,” the man across the desk began in an almost pleading tone, “Don’t you think you’re being too rash?”

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his family’s private solicitor and instead settled on a silent scoff.

“Not really, Henry.” The young pureblood kept his face blank, “Rash would be liquidating all my wealth and heading for France, like my mother. This is not rash. This is practical. This is necessary.”

The middle-aged man sighed. The young master before him was as stubborn and apparently, learning to be just as deadly as his father before him. He understood the son’s motives but he didn’t appreciate the fact that he’d be the one to have to break it to the senior Mr. Malfoy in prison. He tried again.

“Draco, I understand, but-”

He was interrupted mid-plead.

“Do you know what I’ve been told all my life?” Draco asked casually, “What people say to me when they acknowledge me in front of my father.” He examined his nails in a show of nonchalance, “They look at me, then back at him and smile that infuriating faux-superior smile and say in their practised voices, ‘He has the potential to be great’ ‘You have some potential boy’ ‘You must be proud, Lucius; quite the potential in your young man here’. Then they drink my father’s alcohol and leave, not yet knowing they’ve probably been robbed of their fortunes, their families, and whatever’s left of their souls.”

He dropped his hand back on the armchair and levelled a glacial glare on Dobbs, “I’m done with just being potential. A little dynamic action is in order, wouldn’t you say Henry. Now open the tome.” His voice had dropped to a poisonous tenor that broached no argument.

Henry Dobbs shuddered as a near over-powering sense of déjà vu came over him, he realised his mistake when he looked up, Malfoy, had not missed that shudder. Correction, he wasn’t learning to be like his father, he was like his father—a younger softer-edged, but still deadly version. Giving in - as if he had a choice - Dobbs opened the ancient looking tome in front of him. He did not need instructions to open specifically to the pages with the blood red silk ribbon hanging out between them. He glanced at Malfoy, whose face was carefully blank and skimmed the pages before him. His years as the Malfoy’s solicitor had taught him how to extract any and all vital information from a document in seconds. This was a direct result of the close calls the Malfoy’s found themselves in with the Ministry, and other … questionable acquaintances.

He lifted his head and frowned at the stoic blond. Without another word he pushed up from his chair and went to pour himself a drink. He offered the brandy to Draco, who refused with a polite shake of his head, and sat back down, taking a few sips of the calming drink.

He reread the short but decisive passage he identified as the most important:

'All power over the House of Malfoi shall transfer to the Heir of Malfoi in event of Current Head Malfoi being incapacitated by sickness or extended imprisonment. Sickness includes impotence, insanity, and terminal illness.'

“This hasn’t been done in over a century, Draco,” Dobbs warned, “Not in any of the old Bloodlines.”

Draco smirked, the only break in his icy visage, “We Malfoys pride ourselves on being unique. “

Dobbs finished off his cognac. The brandy had been a gift from the elder Malfoy. “Very well, then. I’ll file the papers with the Liaison Department of Estates & Holdings at the Ministry. After it’s approved, they’ll turn the records in to Records and send a copy to Gringotts. I assume you’ll be filing under the clause of imprisonment?”

Draco’s smirk never left his face, “Yes, and insanity.”

Dobbs nodded miserably, “I’ll add insanity to the clause. May I ask why?”

Draco nodded, his face clear again, “Yes. I believe you can agree that loyalty to a Dark Lord at risk of personal health and wealth is a clear show of insanity, especially for a Pureblood.” Dobbs just raised an eyebrow, Draco continued, “Of course that is still under contention—an Imperius is suspected. That requires even swifter action.” He smiled a small deadly upturn of the lips.

Henry Dobbs suppressed the oncoming shudder. Yet again, he questioned his sanity. He still didn’t understand why he stayed in this profession, with this family. He’d had a chance to leave, when his father had died and left the practise to him, and with it, the clients. He could have just sold it and found something else to do. As a boy he’d watched his father stay up nights, wondering why he insisted on slaving away for thankless wealthy sycophants with more money than was good for them. Then he’d met the Malfoys and understood his father’s passion; in a brave move he dropped his other clients and concentrated solely on the Malfoys who’d in turn signed a lifelong contract declaring him their official representative and he in turn swore to be discreet and protect their interests. It had been a lucrative partnership, earning quite a bit for both parties involved. Lucius Malfoy had even helped him out of a delicate situation that could have ruined his family; which was why he was so reluctant to even consider the idea of quite simply screwing the elder Malfoy of his power and titles.

He sighed, “I’ll have everything arranged, done in two days with the usual discretion.”

“Oh no, Henry.” Draco’s scary smile tightened, “Don’t bother with too much discretion. I want this known. I want everyone to know that I am Lord Malfoy. Have it go through silently, but the results whispered around. I want it in the Prophet, latest the day after.” He nodded curtly to Dobbs, his face blank again, and stood to leave.

Dobbs stood up politely, “Draco? A public humiliation?” he asked of the young man leaving his office. Without turning around Draco answered, “Oh yes, much like his imprisonment caused me and the Malfoy name.” He turned his head slightly, “Good day, Henry.”

“And to you, Mr. Malfoy.” Dobbs sank heavily back in his chair, running his hand through his grey hair, he knew his day was far from over, and a long ways from being good.

HD

The light from the lumos spell flickered as its caster’s concentration finally gave in to sleep. A stack of parchment fell off the edge of the table to the floor startling the dozing werewolf. The room flooded with light as he touched his wand to reactivate the lumos spell. He rubbed his eyes sleepily bending to clean up the mess wincing as his back cracked painfully. The ex-professor stood up and stretched his muscles, cracking more bones.

For the last five hours Remus had been studying all the documents given to him by Stonecreek at Gringotts and for all his trouble he’d come to a general conclusion that Harry currently had more money than anyone should know what to do with, and that he was probably the last person equipped to be trustee.

He’d come home from the bank a wreck and after gathering himself, he’d written to Harry to check up on him. That was two days ago. Remus shivered as a wave of cold accusing guilt crashed over him. When Padfoot had died, Remus retreated into himself and out of the Wizarding World; as a result, he’d abandoned his best friend’s son. He wouldn't be surprised if Harry ignored the letter outright.

There was no way to make up for his neglect, other than one very bad idea. It was a way to try and make things right — a step in the right direction, at least toward making necessary amends. It was however, a very bad dangerous idea that just happened to be the only way Remus could think of to make sure Harry was alright.

Remus slipped into his bed and stared at the ceiling morosely, all thoughts of sleep gone. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to force the idea out of his head. It was a very bad dangerous, not to mention extremely stupid idea.

But it was all he had.

In the near future, Harry Potter was going to find himself kidnapped.