Harry Gaunt - Chapter 6

Harry had returned to Greycup's office bright and early the next day to retrieve his shiny new ring. As apparently, as Harry had been told yesterday, it just wouldn't do to be a Lord without a ring.

"Ah, excellent," said Greycup from his desk. "Right on time, come in."

Greycup was just finishing the last of House Gaunt's reestablishment papers, which would be submitted to the Ministry for reference only. "How was your afternoon yesterday?" he asked in a good mood.

"Fine," said Harry, taking a curious seat on the bigger chair. "I've a wand now at least. Did you redecorate?"

Harry looked about at the office, noting how it was a little bigger, and a little fancier than before.

"Yes," smiled Greycup fiendishly. "I have you to thank for that. So thank you."

Harry nodded graciously. "Is that the ring?" he asked, seeing the small box beside Greycup. "And how much was this again? I don't think you ever said." asked Harry, not getting a specific answer before.

"Gringotts paid for it," said Greycup, picking up the simple wooden box. "We were it seemed, partially in-debt to House Gaunt. The previous Lords saw fit to keep it over us, so I took the liberty as your new Account Manager."

Greycup looked to Harry, hoping that was okay.

"Fine," dismissed Harry, before speaking warningly. "But in future, I will be consulted before any debts are cleared."

"Of course," Greycup bowed his head. "Your relationship with Gringotts would have become difficult if it had remained."

Ah, Harry nodded. "Let's take a look then," he said cheerfully. "I've only ever worn one ring before, let's hope this lives up to it."

Harry was excited to see it, feeling better about the Lordship after a good night's sleep.

Greycup handed the box over, sitting back with a quiet smile as Harry unboxed it.

"How is it?" asked Greycup, watching Harry put it on his right ring finger. "No good?"

Harry was fiddling with it.

"It's not that," offered Harry with a thoughtful frown. "I feel… good. Really good, it's not enchanted is it?"

Harry slipped it off, immediately losing the warm sensation he'd felt.

"It's linked to the magic of House Gaunt," explained Greycup. "It allows entry to the vault here at Gringotts and the property you still own."

"Not the shack," lamented Harry. "I've seen it before. It's hideous."

Harry had planned to burn it, but on second thought, perhaps it was better to leave it be. He had to retrieve the ring.

"If that is what you wish," offered Greycup, getting a firm nod from Harry. "Then we will need to increase House Gaunt's finances," he concluded, already reaching for the prospectus he'd prepared.

He passed it to Harry.

"These are the investments I'd suggest we look at," he pointed a finger for Harry to read it. "I'll of course leave the final choice to you."

Greycup leaned away, letting Harry inspect the small book with interest, ideas sparking in his head. Harry flicked it open. "Can I mark some?" he asked.

"Please do," Greycup offered him a pencil. "The ink will run."

Harry took it, eagerly running through and marking the companies he thought best. He didn't have much money, so he had to make it count as the minutes passed.

"These three," said Harry finally, having written the names for convenience on the inside cover. "Two are Muggle. And one Wizard."

Greycup read the notes. "Supercuts?" he asked, looking to Harry who nodded. "Microsoft."

Harry nodded again. "Put 50% in that one. 25 in the others."

Greycup read the rest. "Very well. But the last isn't in the prospectus." Greycup had never heard of 'Firebolt Limited'

"I want you to look out for it," ordered Harry, remembering vaguely that the company had started in the mid-to-late seventies. "I'll handle finding more immediate funds."

Harry had a plan he'd come with on the way here, one that involved Romania, a Dragon Reserve and lots of gold.

Greycup was a little unnerved by the expression on Harry's face. "I will look out for it, and arrange investments in the others as you've outlined. However, before you go."

Harry had risen to leave, his ring now firmly on his right ring finger. He looked at Greycup questioningly.

"There is also the matter of House Gaunt's debts," said Greycup delicately. "You are in debt, is the simplest way to put it," he retrieved another document, handing it to Harry who to it quickly. "Some you need not worry with, they are gone. But others…"

Harry read the first name, then the sum and accrued interest over who knew how long. "House Black," he whispered, his mind racing. "Do they know?" shot Harry back. "Do they know yet?"

Greycup hesitated, then nodded heavily. "They all do," he said. "The terms of the debt instruct they be informed should it transfer to a new name, your name Lord Gaunt."

"I see," Harry worked his jaw. "I'll pay them off. How long do I have?"

"1 month," returned Greycup. "Then the interest goes up, then again every month commencing."

It wasn't much time as Harry glanced at the other names, the House of Black being the biggest debt of the dozen listed. Yaxley, MacMillan, Malfoy, Lestrange, Flint, Burke the list when on. It seemed that the previous Gaunts relied on their distant family for help, yet never paid.

"This scheme of yours," interjected Greycup in a careful tone, referring to whatever plan Harry had in-mind. "What does it involve?"

Gringotts could be of assistance.

"Dragons," said Harry simply, setting the paper down on Greycup's desk. "There are breeds that understand Parseltongue, I'll round them up," he did a twirl with his finger. "Then sell them to the private reserves in Romania, especially since those particular breeds are more difficult to catch. They're smarter."

Greycup sat back in his chair. "You can't be serious," he breathed. "You'll be killed! It takes whole teams of Dragon Handler's just to catch the Welsh Greens!" He got up from his desk, walking to Harry with purpose.

"I can do it," said Harry, smiling at what he assumed was Greycup's concern. "You'll see. Prepare for gold Greycup."

Harry hopped to his feet, waving goodbye to his astounded Account Manager before slipping out the door.

Greycup stared for a moment.

"Idiot boy," he muttered, returning to his desk. "Of all the people to become Lord Gaunt, it had to be a reckless fool."

Greycup shook his head, wishing the boy good luck as he resumed his work.

Break.

Arcturus Black, 3rd of his name and Lord of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, was having coffee. "Creature," he said, standing by the tall window of his office. "More milk."

He tapped the cup with his spoon.

"Yes master…"

The little elf disappeared with a quiet crack, before returning with a delicate mug of cool milk. Creature poured it inside.

"Set it there," instructed Arcturus after the jug had been half-emptied and Creature did so, arranging it upon the window sill. "Go."

Creature left as commanded, leaving his master in his preferred solitude. Arcturus took another sip from his mug, satisfied as he sighed into the steam.

He'd just returned from a difficult meeting, one that would see his three favourite nieces married within the year.

Knock Knock.

"Come in," he called, turning away from his view of the city. "Druella," he greeted calmly as she stepped inside, still composed for the moment.

"Arcturus," she said leadingly. "Can you explain something to me?"

She showed the three letters in her hand, each of them marriage proposals for her daughters.

"No," dismissed Arcturus, glancing at the letters that had before been stowed in his office. "And stop being dramatic. You should be grateful I could arrange even that for them." He turned away, returning to the view through the window.

"You know that's not good enough," warned Druella as she stepped towards him. "Lestrange I can understand. But Flint? Brown?"

Her voice tightened with rage. "They're unworthy!" she shrieked. "The Flint's are riddled with Half-bloods and Mudbloods - and the Browns, don't even mention the Browns."

She shook her head, coming close enough to touch.

"What was I to do," replied Arcturus angrily. "There were no others options. Do you want them to remain unmarried?"

Arcturus had searched and searched for better matches, even delayed Druella's eldest from marrying when she'd turned 18. But there was no time now. Even if Druella believed otherwise.

"Give them more time," she begged, reaching cautiously for his arm. "Bellatrix will be starting her final year soon, she'll meet new people when she leaves. It's only a year. And Andromeda is…" Druella skipped over Andromeda, the girl was already towing a thin line. "And Narcissa, she is too beautiful to not marry well!"

Druella tugged his sleeve, turning him around. She knew he wouldn't like it, as he did so reluctantly.

"Please Arcturus."

She looked at him hopefully.

"It must be done Druella," he explained with a shake of his head, seeing the moisture begin to pool in her eyes. "You know how this works, it was the same for all of us. Do not ask me to deny my duty as their Lord." Arcturus flicked his arm away, he would do anything for his family.

He heard Druella step weakly away, then head for the door with hurried steps.

"Druella," he called out to her. "Druella!"

The door slammed shut behind her, distraught over the fate of her daughters. "This all Cygnus's fault," muttered Arcturus, turning away and to his desk where letters lay. He'd been inundated with complaints about the man's behaviour, off playing activist for this new Pureblood movement.

Arcturus knew what would come of it, just as it had for all these self-styled leaders of change. They'd turn to violence, terror to get their way. And it was already happening as Arcturus flicked through the letters he'd received, from wizarding neighbours to unfortunate muggles - Cygnus had been seen.

It was a bloody mess, contained only by the power Arcturus held. He looked away from the rest. "That fool."

Arcturus rubbed his head. And if that all wasn't bad enough, even his son's wife was involved, Walburga couldn't resist egging the subject on whenever she could. Arcturus didn't think she'd directly participated, but it was starting to affect the more impressionable members of his house. "Hm?"

Arcturus saw the corner of another letter, one with familiar parchment and flowing ink.

What did Gringotts want?

"Transfer of debt…" he read, slipping it out from the pile. Arcturus didn't recall any debt with the Goblin Bank… his eyes widened.

"Creature!" he shouted urgently. "Go to Gringotts," he commanded, grinning fiendishly at the elf. "Retrieve the books of genealogy on House Gaunt. Go!"

Creature hurried away, disappearing with a crack as Arcturus stood, pacing with the letter in his hand. He didn't care about the money, which while significant as he read, was nothing compared to his current wealth. No, it was the man himself that he was interested in. "To think one of them survived," he muttered, scarcely believing them capable, given the state Morfin had been in. "But perhaps he isn't, perhaps it's another line…"

Now the old family was gone, a new heir had been found, one that didn't have the old one's hideous ailments.

Creature popped back in. "It is here master," he said, plopping the large book upon the table. "Master be pleased with Creature?"

"Yes yes," Arcturus waved him away. "Get out."

Creature did, leaving with a blissful smile as Arcturus opened the book, beginning his search from the last recorded birth. "Merope."

Arcturus had never seen her.

"Poor girl," he said, expecting whatever fate that befell her to be a sad one. Arcturus followed the line up from her, looking for squibs and any others that were cast out. Such a good purchase his Grandfather had made... "There!"

He placed his finger on it, a boy by the name of 'Evan Gaunt'. It was curious, as Arcturus searched the others branches. He was the only squib to have ever come from House Gaunt. "Just goes to show how strong their bloodline was," he concluded. "A single squib in all their recorded history."

Arcturus shut the book, rubbing his chin as he retook his seat. There were only two possibilities as to the identity of this new Lord Gaunt. One, he was a child of Merope or Morfin. "Unlikely."

They were ugly. Very ugly.

"Or two," which Arcturus thought much more likely. "A squib descendant. Much better."

It didn't matter that he'd be a Mudblood, not that he was sure to be one as Arcturus rose from his chair. He was now Lord of a sacred house, likely sane of mind too, and more than likely magically talented. "Perfect."

Arcturus left his office, determined to explore this new possibility. After all, Lord Gaunt owed them a fortune. "Druella?" he looked inside her small study, which was a room just adjacent from her single bedroom.

She was writing at her desk, apparently ignoring him.

"Druella, I have news," said Arcturus, stepping inside. "I've rece - what's that? What are you writing?"

He stormed towards her desk, looking down at the letter she had just signed. It was to Lord Brown.

"I understand Arcturus," she said after a moment. "This is the best we can hope for given Cygnus's…" she shut her eyes. "Foolishness. Nobody wants to be seen openly agreeing with it, at least not yet. But we cannot wait."

Druella rose from her chair, folding the letter as she did into a brown envelope. "I've already sent the letters of acceptance to Lestrange and Flint, all we need do now is convince the girls. I'll write to them."

Arcturus would put his foot in it, just as he always did when it came to such delicate matters.

"Are you not pleased?" she asked him. Druella thought he would be, as she attached the letter to another of the Black family owls.

Arcturus stepped towards it with purpose.

"Arcturus?"

He stopped, grumbling lowly at the owl. "Never mind," he said, it was too late now. "I'll leave the rest to you."

Druella watched him sweep from the room, leaving as he'd come with long strides. She glimpsed the letter in his hand.

"It'll be fine," she assured herself. "Lestrange is a little rough, but Flint and Brown, they'll be nice boys. Andromeda always says how much she likes Quidditch."

The Flint boy was apparently quite good at it, and had a stellar reputation in the minor leagues. Brown too was a sensible man, he owned a store near Gringotts.

But in either case, it was too late to turn back now, to withdraw the contracts would be beyond insulting.

Druella returned to her desk, drafting the letters to her daughters.

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