Chapter 2

"Well..." Minerva started, obviously put off by my brusque nature and emphatic demand. She took the moment to organize her thoughts, and gather her hair that escaped the tight bun at the back of her head behind her ears. "For one, I have no wish to break my family."

I answered her statement with a rise of my eyebrows. The debt owed was that large? That made the fact that I did not know of it all the more important, though it might have been that Dumbledore had taken steps to eliminate it when he was the Potter steward. There was always the possibility that there had been a life debt owed by one of my preceding family to the McGonagalls that had finally canceled things out.

"Fifty years before the Evans line went into slumber, they supported a move by my ancestors that allowed the McGonagalls to reclaim our seat among the Five Hundred Founding Families. That support hinged upon a witch of the McGonagall House marrying a Wizard of the Evans family." Minerva paused in her explanation to pierce me with a gaze. "The Patriarch of the Evans family died childless, and his brother fathered only squibs."

"Which caused the line to fall defunct." I supplied taking the tea pot that had arrived without a glimpse of the elf that had brought it to pour two cups. I added a dash of milk to one and stirred in a dab of honey before pushing it across to Minerva. There was a wide selection of biscuits as well, and I took one to enjoy with my tea. "That also explains why you think buying me out would break your family."

A seat on the Wizengamot as one of the Five Hundred contained much power. Once a year a Five Hundred Family had the ability to 'table' a single discussion. In effect it caused the proposal to sit un-debated for a year before it, or any other proposal of similar wording could be put forward. Families had, and still did table discussions year after year to protect their own interest, only letting them go to vote when they were no longer damaging, or when the success or defeat of the item was certain.

That power was jealously guarded, and when a family lost a five hundred seat it was all but impossible to regain it. It was likely that the Evans House had indebted itself heavily, or called due many favors that were now lost.

"Indeed." Minerva sipped her tea before taking a chocolate biscuit. Tea was the only time I had ever seen her eat sweats, but even I didn't know she had a penchant for chocolate. "I also wish it because I do not want to go through life alone. My prospects were slim before knowing that I never married, and with the refusal of a contract I would be anathema to all but a first-generation."

The last was said with a bit of bitterness, and since I knew that Minerva had never believed the sort of blood-purity nonsense that Voldemort had espoused, I immediately jumped to a conclusion.

"Which would be a marriage your father would not support." I inclined my head as it all settled in my mind with her acquiescent nod. "That still does not explain why you would enter into a loveless marriage, Minnie."

"Would it be loveless? Just because a marriage is arranged and not agreed to in the heat of passion does not mean it shall be loveless." Minerva shot back. Her voice was heated now, but not in ire towards me but passion. "I have seen the concern that you hold for me in your eyes, heard the tenderness in your voice. There is a a possibility there..."

I looked up, regarding her with my one working eye. "Concern and tenderness does not love make."

"Yes." Minerva relented, but surged forwards with courage. Straight to the Gryffindor goes. "However they are the building blocks of a loving relationship, and yet even if we were to never grow into the love ballads are written of, I for one would welcome the familiar comfort of a close friendship. My parents have that, and I would count myself lucky to claim just that as well."

There was the difference between our outlooks, I realized. I was raised in a time that love was what was to be sought before marriage, and Minerva had been raised in a time in which that ideal was just beginning to be sought. Instead of knowing she would marry for love, she hoped for friendship and feared outright loathing. This was a world that was much more archaic than the one that I was used to, one trending even more to traditionalism. Instead of the Wizarding World following the mundane towards social progress, we had the Wizarding World setting the social stage for the Mundane.

The question was, could I take such a step with a person that I was coming to realize I knew so little?

I sipped my tea, taking the time that afforded me to study the person that I sat across from. This was not the steadfast woman of my memories, but the bud of a woman that she had grown from. This was a person who did not live in a closeted realm, but was a member of a branch of society growing and gaining in power. How much further would Professor McGonagall have pushed the limits of her art had she not been constrained by the Statute of Secrecy?

"Very well." I said, giving in with that thought. I knew that I could not say no to a person that I saw so much of my past loves in. I had grieved them, despaired of ever finding another like them, and yet here was perhaps the woman from which their mould had been made. I could not turn up this chance, not when I longed as well for the familiar comfort of a friend. "I will consent to a standard handfasting of three months, to be followed by marriage should we prove to be compatible. In return you shall gain your Mastery in Transfiguration. Are we agreed?"

Even as I stumbled upon our landing, mentally cursing the need to be side-alonged I had to admit that Minerva was quite gifted at it. For no older than she was, and for as recent as the skill must have been learned she was very good. Better than I at her age at any rate.

"I shall meet you and your father at the bank then." The words rolled off my tongue a bit harsher than I had intended, and I gave a wince at the way they sounded in my ears. I hated being pressured into anything, and though I had made a choice in this it still grated against me wrong.

"I look forward to it." Minerva said, her tone a little put out as well, and I gave a sigh.

"Minnie..." I implored as she turned to walk away, half reaching to stop her. She looked over her shoulder at me, and I gave a shrug. "It is just so much at once, on top of everything else. I feel like I haven't had a chance to breathe, let alone think. I am sorry I am...irritable."

"I understand, and I shall try and keep from responding in kind." Minerva said before turning and continuing on her way.

It was almost noon, and I still needed to get a wand, access my the vault, and buy the sundry things that every person needs in life. I gave a shrug and started to walk in the direction that Olivander's was.

Diagon Alley was not the way I remembered it. Always before it had been a twisted warren of streets, side streets, alleys and such. Compressing as much space as the Wizarding shopping district took up into the small alley that it had occupied, and gained its name from, in my future had truly warped things. Streets ran straight and true, and as I glanced down intersections I saw bits of London down them that could only be on the 'mundane' side. Streetcars pulled by horses, and others belching forth streams of steam were visible in the distance. That drove another nail home, proving that this was the past, but not my past.

As well there were people openly walking the street in the Wizarding District that were not wizard or witch. To see so many people who could do no magic walking the street, and whose only reaction to a wizard or a witch was a polite nod of the head was impossibly good to see.

I looked up at the sign of the shop before entering. 'Ollivander's Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC' it stated proudly. Not for the first time I found myself wondering if Ollivander himself had been making the wands since then. The bell tinkled my arrival, and a much younger man than I had been expecting emerged from a back room, putting paid to my thoughts.

"Good day, Mister...Hrm, Your name is not your name. And why do I remember a wand that I haven't sold?" Ollivander asked in a cheerful voice, a wide smile splitting his face. "I trust though that you are in need of a new one?"

"Yes, I am afraid that mine suffered rather greatly in my escape from Grindlewald." I ignored the first question and answered the second. It was the cover story that Minerva had filled me in on that the Ministry and those others in the know about me were using. I was supposedly a spy for the British Ministry that had been discovered in the Dark Lord's ranks. It served very well I thought.

"Indeed, I had read of your arrival in Hogwarts in the paper just this morning. Causing quite a stir it is." Ollivander bustled forwards with a smile. "Wand hand then? And your last wand is, just for my peace of mind understand."

"Right, primarily but I try to work with both." I gave a bit of pause before answering the second question. In the end there was no helping it. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches."

"Mmm, I've two wands with Phoenix feather cores at this time. A twin to that, and its brother in yew, fourteen inches." Ollivander mused, and I blinked. Could it be that in this world? My thoughts were broken by him handing me the twin to my original wand. "We'll start with the twin first, give it a wave."

I'd barely even touched it when he jerked it unceremoniously out of my hand and scowled at me.

"Why didn't you say you have a Mastery ring, and that you've undergone several rituals aimed at increasing and strengthening your power?" Ollivander all but snarled at me, whilst thrusting the Holly and Phoenix feather wand back into the box. I watched it with a faint longing, but shook myself out of it to answer.

"You didn't ask." I sniped back before calming. I gave a sigh at the fact that nothing was going smoothly today. I touched my face below my milky white left eye. "The Drink of Mimisbrunnr was the primary ritual, and the others were of the same sort."

"And you let me almost give you a young phoenix feather wand? Madness." Ollivander muttered before finally shaking his head. "I guess you'd not know it then?"

"Know what?"

"Phoenix feather wands are powerful, yes, but fragile. Too much power too soon and they'll explode the likes of which you'll never see again. They have to grow into power carefully, and a wizard as powerful as you can't imprint one." Ollivander gave a sad shake of his head and put the box up on the shelf. "It is a shame, that one would have chosen you, but only for a moment before it consumed my whole store."

I pursed my lips while digesting that. This Ollivander seemed a bit more free with information than the one I knew. Maybe it had to do with the whole lighter feel to this world, and perhaps it was just the distance the war was at this time. Perhaps he was sharing a secret with me because deep down he knew I could be trusted.

Ollivander disappeared sometime during my musings into the stacks of crowded shelves and I found myself thinking back to the summer I'd spent helping him out in his wandshop. He'd given me knowledge then too, but not of wandlore, but that of the history of Loundon Town and of Ollivander's in particular.

It was really the best lecture I'd been given on the history of the Wizarding World, but unfortunately for me, it was a century or two too far in the past to do me any good now, except for some bits about the forming of the Wizengamot, and the Five Hundred Founding Families.

"Here, we'll try these. If none of them work, then I'm afraid you'll just have to commission a wand or battlestaff." Ollivander said it in a huff, but I could tell that the man was looking forwards to them not working, if only to ply a bit of difficult trade.

"Even if one of them will work, I'll like to commission one of the latter, if it is legal of course." I said, my fingers itching to try the wands he was taking from the boxes. They were shorter than most wands, averaging six inches in length, and all were of two pieces of wood, which I knew even with my meager wandlore was a rarity. At Ollivander's questioning look I continued. "I am hoping for the Combat Professorship at Hogwarts, and I believe that a class on combat would be well served to present specialty foci."

"Here, try this one. Oak and yew, seven and half..." Ollivander jerked that one from my hand before I'd even touched it. "No, no, that won't do. Incompatible core. This one, Six and a third inches, bloodwood handle and ebony shaft with a basilisk fang core."

I managed to get this one in hand, and even before I gave it a wave I felt the warm thrill through my body that indicated a good match. At the wandmaker's questioning look I waved the wand and an eruption of multicolored sparks roared forth.

"Good, very good. Your compatibility with that one will only grow with time. Near a two thousand years old it is, and basilisk fang of that quality is impossible to get anymore." I looked up at that, dimly remembering a wand that had been made shortly before the turn from BC to AD fro the summer I helped him out. "Now you wanted a battlestaff? Very good. We'll chose the materials now, and I'll start the construction, but you'll need to get a waiver from the Ministry before I'm allowed to let you take ownership."

I gave a nod of reply, and the next few minutes consisted of Ollivander shoving one possible core material after another into my hands. After exhausting all of his ready supply he gave a sorrowful sigh and shook his head.

"I'm afraid that it is likely you'll need another basilisk fang if you truly want a staff, and I do not know where I might find one old enough to create a core of the size a staff will need. I've already told you why we can't use phoenix feather, and that is the only other core material that seems to resonate correctly with you." Ollivander's eyes dimmed and I could tell he was quite disappointed. "Strange that, normally two cores of so dissimilar magics wouldn't take to a person."

"I might be able to find such a core. I know where there might be a basilisk large enough." I said, trying not to think too deeply on what it might cost to get access to the Chamber of Secrets. Hopefully if I had the chance I could still opening it with parseltongue.

"Slytherin's beast?" Ollivander asked with a gauging eye, and at my careful nod he smiled. "That would do it, and I'd pay for other things from it as well. If it exists. Should you encounter it, take care to keep it alive, a live king of serpents that age would be a boon for the school."

"Yes, it would." Now that it had been pointed out to me, it didn't take a genius to understand that weekly milkings of venom alone from the great beast would enrich the school considerably. Not to mention the boon that fangs, shed skin, and blood would provide. "The wand?"

"One knut." Ollivander quickly replied and at my questioning look grudgingly explained. "We never increase the price of the wands, and with the age of that one... I'm afraid I'm overcharging you even now, but the coins simply no longer exist to pay its real price."

I dug out a pair of galleons that I had looted from the Evans household fund and placed them on the counter. "For the advice, and I'd like a wand maintenance kit, along with a wrist holder."

"Of course, of course." The slight man bustled to gather up my request, and set the items on the counter, sweeping away the coins. "You'll not want to wax the bloodwood, but wipe it down very lightly with your own blood now and again. The ebony will take normal beeswax."

"Thank you." I inclined my head before taking my leave from the shop. The wand fit the wrist holster very well, and the wand my forearm far better than its phoenix and holly predecessor. It was a powerful wand, but I had no time to linger on that, for I still had one more stop to make before Gringotts.

Strangely enough Madame Malkins was still open in this time, and inside I found her predecessor. I had no time for the custom dragonhide robes I wanted to commission, nor the money currently so I settled for a set of fine robes and well fitted trousers and shirt in acromantula silk. I had long ago learned that part of being taken seriously was to dress the part.

Luckily my time with the clothier was not nearly as trying as that with the wandmaker. In but a few minutes I was out of the shop and on my way to Gringotts wearing a set of clothing that did not bear the telltale sign of having been transfigured.

First impressions only happen once, and can set the tone for every encounter you have with a person for the rest of your days. Though people like Ollivander might look past clothing, and a woman like Malkin might see a figure as it should be clothed, others would not. A shabby dressed figure was simply a shabby person. A well dressed man, was one with power. I'd learned that from the unlikeliest of people, Draco Malfoy.

The figure I cut when I walked into Gringotts was of a powerful influential man. The robes I wore cost a weeks wages for most of Wizardkind, and the magic aura that I projected was a step or three even above the exceptional.

It didn't hurt that with my hair queued back to show my damnable scar, many recognized me from the newspaper story of just that morning.

I ignored the lines that the others were standing in, and instead strode directly up to the singular goblin seated at a raised desk in the middle of the open room. I pulled up to my full height before him, and unleashed the last constraints on my aura, letting it flare around me. I raised my right hand, letting the voluminous sleeve fall back from my hand to bare my ring of Mastery, Fifth circle, and the gaudy hunk of platinum and jewelry that served as the Evans signet. A single piece of parchment I withdrew from a fold of my robes, and I slapped it down before him on the desk, all the while looking over his head.

"Call the estate manager for the House Evans, because Evans of Evans wishes to speak to him." I enunciated clearly, pitching my voice to carry over the whispering going on around me. It was all a calculated insult, mixed with a dash of respect that only a Goblin would catch.

The Goblin was very quiet as he picked up the parchment and studied it carefully. He returned the respectful look over my head and cleared his throat.

"The signet." His voice was gruff, and more than a little irate. I curled my hand into a fist and presented the ring to him, smashing his knuckles into the table between mine when he grabbed for my hand. "All is in order. Graspslash will meet you in meeting room three. Pointcut, take him!"

I followed the contrite cart-goblin from the dias after ripping the parchment out of the Overseers hand, my teeth pulled up into a parting snarl. Learning to deal with goblins was a lot of posturing followed with a lot of guesswork, but I had figured out how to get respect, even if outright friendship still eluded me. The slight goblin wasted no time getting me to the door and hurrying me in.

"I am Harry James Evans of House Evans. I wish to register my inheritance with all interested parties, clear all outstanding debts and payments, and receiving an accounting of my holdings." I snarled slapping the parchment down in front of the Goblin that was even older than the Overseer. A wave of my wand conjured a chair for me to sit in, and I tucked it back in its holder.

The only reply I received was a glare from the Goblin before it turned its head to the parchment. It glared again, mostly because there was nothing in the parchment it could use to deny me access to the keybox which would verify my claim. In a thrice the box was before me.

"Blood and signet." Grabslash growled and I gave it a toothy smile in reply. With a calculated movement I used the sharp point atop the box to prick my finger, a calculated insult saying I knew he would not dare poison me in such a way, and finally I pressed the signet to the wax atop the box whilst swallowing the bezoar in my mouth.

Expecting goblins not to poison you when you use their blade to cut yourself is the height of stupidity.

Grabslash looked slightly disappointed, either because the box glowed and then clicked open showing the key within, or because I didn't drop dead from the poison on the box. It had been poisoned, I could feel the telltale burn of basilisk venom, and even without the bezoar I would have likely survived it. My meeting with Slytherin's beast had given me an immunity to its bite.

"The Evans estate has been defunct since the year One Thousand Seven Hundred and Ninety-Two. In that time the manor, the land of fourteen thousand and sixty acres, and the manor village of seventeen businesses and two hundred three houses have fallen into stewardship by the Elves of the House. There are no current human, or intelligent non-human inhabitants of the land, but for the aforementioned stewards." Grabslash looked up and glared at me. I could understand, if there was one thing that the Goblins disliked, it was a waste of profit potential, and letting that much magical land fall into disuse was a waste of profit potential.

"I would like to retain Gringotts to advertise the vacant business lots, and to take interviews for retainers or tenants to work the land and gather its bounty." I pondered my next step as Grabslash still looked displeased by the agreement. "As partial recompense for this loss of profit, I request that you charge me a rate double the standard."

That broke through his scowl, and the damn Goblin looked positively pleased. When you can't insult them, make them profit, that was my standard.

"Are you willing to take squib or mundane retainers and lessees? Will the House of Evans recognize prior lease and retainer contracts that were interrupted because of the falling of the House?" Grabslash made a note and took me offguard with his question.

"Yes. I want a full accounting of those contracts that were interrupted and a tally of which want to be bought out. I will also wish to view several current retainer and lease contracts before determining which to finalize. I trust that you shall have several for me to peruse by the end of our business?" I was wading through things I really had no concept of, and right now I didn't really want to enter into too many contracts.

"I shall." Grabslash made another note and continued with the report. "Currently the Evans Estate outside the aforementioned lands consists of monetary holdings, and vault contents that are not of monetary holdings. The vault holdings at current time are not individually tallied. Gringotts charges a standard flat fee of three thousand galleons to tally all non-monetary holdings. Current monetary holdings are fully invested by the Estate Manager, and have been earning an average return of thirteen point one five percent yearly since falling into defunct status, and currently total twelve million seven hundred nine thousand, five hundred and forty eight galleons, two sickles, one knut. Gringotts has taken a total of three million eight hundred and two thousand nine hundred and seventy-six galleons, four sickles nine knuts in charges for Stewardship in this time."

That was a bunch more information that I really didn't understand. I couldn't do the math fast enough in my head to really think how much money Gringotts had made for the account, nor the percentage of that made that they had taken in charges, but I knew one thing, the account had to be fairly small for it to have earned thirteen percent APR and still only number in the double digit millions. It was even more likely that the account had only really seen explosive growth since whatever Grindelwald did, mainly because I knew in my timeline that the account never held that much money.

"What was the average return on all non-defunct accounts over that time?" I wanted that information to make my next step. I knew I really needed to reward his efforts if I was to continue making money, and Draco had also taught me that wealth was power. You didn't have to use it, but as long as you had power you had a mediocum of safety.

"Seven point three two percent." Grabslash's grin could only be taken as smug, even for a being with far too many teeth.

"I see. I trust that it is still acceptable to reward an estate manager personally for greater than expected returns?" I watched him carefully as I spoke, and thus I did not miss the surprise that colored his face momentarily.

"Yes." Grabslash's voice was carefully even, and I had to think quickly. There was a need to reward him, but there was also a need to secure the financial health of the village, as there were likely repairs and expenses that needed to be taken care of before it was functional once again. Contract interruption penalties were likely to take a fair chunk of gold.

"I would like twenty percent of my current holdings to be liquidated to cash. From today on, I expect you to charge me a fee equal to half of the profit made above the standard Gringotts return." My smile got even more wolfish as I saw the greedy gleam in Grabslash's eyes. Before he had been making the family a load of money simply to raise his own status in the bank, but now he could line his own pockets while still gaining that status increase. I decided to tack on something else, just as a guarantee that the profits would still be good. "And should the rate of return fall below Gringotts standards, you shall make up the difference from your own pocket."

That quelled the predatory gleam in his eyes, but not by much. Grabslash segued directly into the next part of his report without pause.

"The House of Evans currently owes only the House of Weasley. This debt is of an unfulfilled marriage contract of a Witch of the House of Evans to a Wizard of the House of Weasley, which may be settled as a monetary agreement as three generations have passed since the confirmation of the agreement." Grabslash looked up, and I fingered my lips. Truthfully I disliked marriage contracts, but I hardly wanted to enter into any more financial obligations than I already had at this point.

"The House of Evans wishes to postpone the settlement of this agreement in either way until the birth of the first Witch of the House." That was good wording, and let me revisit the debt at a later date. Should I have a daughter, then I could either postpone things again, or I could simply try and convince them to settle for money then.

"So noted." Grabslash inked another note onto the parchment before him, running a long nailed finger down the page through several other agreements that looked to have been settled shortly before the line went defunct. Some of those were undoubtedly debts that had been exchanged for the help to the McGonagall clan, and others were likely settled when it became clear the line was going to fall dormant. "One debt is owed the House of Evans by the House of McGonagall. This debt is of an unfulfilled marriage contract of a Witch of the House of McGonagall to a Wizard of the House of Evans. This debt may only be nullified should there be no marriage possible in a generation, and a life-debt be owed to the House of McGonagall by the House of Evans. This is the final piece of business that should be taken care of before the notification of the Wizengamot, and your formal recognition as Evans of Evans."

Well that certainly explained why I hadn't heard of it. "McGonagall of McGonagall and his marriageable daughter should be waiting in the foyer if you would call for them."