Done

Title: Done
Author: Claire Watson
Series: Create Your Own Bingo stage one, Enough’s Enough
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Canon Divergence
Relationship(s): None
Content Rating: Gen
Warnings: None
Author Notes: The house in Stinchcombe is the same one Harry used in my Trope Bingo story, The Resolute Urgency of Now. What can I say, I love that house 🙂 It will likely come up again.
Beta: Grammarly
Word Count: 3,830
Summary: Stuck at the Dursleys after the disaster of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry finally got sick of being treated like a mushroom. Some accidental magic proves to be the catalyst for a change in circumstances.

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That morning, Harry received yet another letter from Ron and Hermione full of comments like:

“We can’t say much about you-know-what, obviously … We’ve been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray … We’re quite busy, but I can’t give you details here … There’s a fair amount going on, we’ll tell you everything when we see you …”

It made Harry so angry his hands started shaking.

What kind of friends were they, that they’d write things like that? They knew how he felt about the Dursleys, about how much he hated the summers. They knew what he’d seen, what he’d endured, thanks to Voldemort hijacking the Triwizard tournament.

Instead of trying to lift his spirits, they were taunting him. It was the sort of thing he’d expect from Malfoy, not from people who professed to be his best friends!

The shaking of his hands grew worse as his anger grew.

Letters like this only served to make him feel worse than he already did. So, Hermione and Ron were together somewhere getting to do exciting stuff while he was stuck here dealing with his nightmares alone, and they seemed desperate for him to know that it was so incredibly important, but he wasn’t invited.

The letter Harry was holding in his shaking hands abruptly caught fire.

“Ahhh!” Harry dropped it, stamping on the flames with his worn-out trainers. By the time the fire was out, the letter was indecipherable, and his rage had died.

Well, Harry had learned years ago what to do when people excluded you and tried to make you feel jealous; you ignored them. Besides, he had other things to worry about, like the fact that he’d accidentally used magic, and right now, another warning from the ministry was probably winging its way towards him.

He couldn’t count on Fudge to cover it up again like at the start of the third year. Given what happened after the third task, he would be lucky to escape with just expulsion.

As fed up as he was with everyone, why should he stay here? Because of some blood wards that were supposed to somehow keep him safe despite Voldemort using his blood in his resurrection ritual?

That made no sense, and Harry had finally had enough. He was done with being kept prisoner here. It took ten minutes to gather his things together. Thanks to the events of the summer before his third year, he’d made sure to have a stack of ten-pound notes on hand just in case he ever needed them.

Within half an hour of making his decision, Harry was in a taxi on his way to Charing Cross Road.

v^v^v

After arriving in Diagon Alley, his first stop was Gringotts. He wanted to know just how much he had in his Trust Vault before making any long-term plans. Thanks to something Bill had said the previous year, he also knew that Gringotts employed curse-breakers and ward specialists, and he was hoping to talk to someone about finding somewhere else to live where he could be safe.

If that meant spending some of his money on wards, then so be it. What use was money in his vault when it was looking increasingly like he wasn’t going to live to spend it? Like the summer before third year, he knew he would need to use his blood for identification since he didn’t have his vault key, so when he got to the teller, he informed them straight away.

Last time, when he bled on the parchment, his name appeared, followed by several symbols he didn’t understand. This time, the parchment turned bright red, and the symbols were far more numerous.

The teller squinted at him through thick spectacles. “Why have you not answered the summons?”

Harry blinked. “What summons?”

The teller’s eyes narrowed even further. “The summons asking you to make an appointment with an account manager. You are dangerously close to having your family accounts suspended due to inaction.”

“I haven’t received a summons,” Harry replied, wondering what the teller meant by family accounts. “I did come here hoping to get some kind of statement or something. Can I make an appointment now? Is there a specific account manager I need to see, or is there a rotation, or something?”

“Go with Bernak to make the arrangements,” the teller ordered him, gesturing to one of the guards, who immediately stepped away from the pillar he’d been standing next to.

Bernak led him to a side room and told him to take a seat and someone would be with him shortly, before taking up position at the door.

Harry shrugged. “Sure.” The chairs weren’t the most comfortable he’d ever sat in, but still better than he’d had available at the Dursleys.

It was actually lovely to be able to sit alone in a safe location and actually have time to think. 4 Privet Drive wasn’t safe, and he found it hard to think, and at Hogwarts, there were always people around. Between them, Ron and Hermione barely left him alone long enough to go to the bathroom. Theoretically, he was alone at night, but by then, he just wanted to sleep.

So Harry sat there and pondered his options if the plan to find a warded place to live fell through for some reason. Magicals reached their majority at seventeen, which was still two years away for Harry.

Maybe he could see about applying to Beaubaxtons or Durmstrang? By the end of the Triwizard Tournament, he’d managed to get a little friendly with Fleur and Victor; maybe they could help him? Or maybe there were other schools around the world that wouldn’t care about British laws and would let him start afresh?

He was just imagining what that would be like when he was approached by one of the guards and directed to accompany them.

He was led into a small room containing a desk, two chairs, a bookshelf with a number of non-book items on it, and an elderly being looking through an open file. He peered up at Harry through a pair of spectacles perched on the end of his nose.

“Have a seat, Heir Potter, we have much to get through.”

v^v^v

The being introduced himself as Dornuk and Harry’s account manager. He first asked Harry to place three drops of his blood on a magically prepared parchment.

Harry shrugged, not seeing any reason to decline. “If you want. Why, though? What purpose does it serve?” He did as asked and watched as Dornuk placed the parchment into a tray of blue liquid that had been sitting on the bookshelf.

Dornuk frowned at him. “Did your guardian not explain common banking practices to you?”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “My guardians are muggles,” he replied. “As far as I’m aware, they don’t even know that magicals have a bank.”

Dornuk didn’t so much as smile as bare his teeth. “I meant your magical guardian.”

“Sirius was in Azkaban,” Harry pointed out. “We’ve had barely any time together at all, and banking never came up in the conversation.”

Dornuk sat back slightly, squinting at Harry. “Are you telling me that you’ve never received personal instruction from a magical guardian?” When Harry opened his mouth to reiterate Sirius’ circumstances, Dornuk made a quelling gesture. “I don’t mean Sirius Black. I’m talking about any other magical person who may have instructed you on your family duties.”

Harry shook his head. “I had no contact with magical people until Hagrid brought me my Hogwarts letter. He was the one who took me to Diagon Alley for the first time.”

Dornuk nodded, flicking through several of the papers in the open file in front of him. “That was 31 July, was it not? Your natal day. Our records show that you visited your vault, but neglected to make contact with me.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” This conversation was starting to remind Harry uncomfortably of his first day at primary school, when he got into trouble for not answering when his name was called. The Dursleys had only ever referred to him as ‘boy’ or ‘freak’, and the name ‘Harry Potter’ hadn’t meant anything to him.

“You also claimed that you hadn’t received the summons we have been sending you since November? Were you still receiving your statements?”

“I’ve never received anything from Gringotts,” Harry explained. “I never knew I should have been.” Although, it was stupid of him not to have thought about it. He knew Vernon and Petunia got monthly statements from their banks, why would Gringotts be any different? Because they were magical? It didn’t make any sense; of course, magical people would want to be kept up to date on their financial situation just like non-magical people.

“This is highly irregular,” Dornuk complained. “We’re bankers, not tutors. It’s not our responsibility to educate our clients on basic banking courtesy.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said helplessly.

Dornuk made a sound that reminded Harry of a filled balloon releasing air. “Be glad that you have yet to reach maturity. Very well, we will go forward with the cart we have been assigned.”

Harry had no idea what that meant but was glad that it seemed he wasn’t going to get in more trouble. He nodded and waited for what Dornuk would say next.

Dornuk made a clicking noise and rose to his feet. “Wait here. I need to confer with my overseer.”

Harry nodded again. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it was still empty. He hadn’t had anything to eat that day, and he hadn’t even been able to fill his empty belly with water to stave off the usual pangs. Maybe he should have stopped somewhere on the way to the bank, but he had felt like making sure he had a future was more important.

Dornuk wasn’t gone long, and when he returned, his arms were full of files, and he had company. “Heir Potter, this is my overseer, Martok. Please answer all questions honestly and as completely as possible. If there is something you prefer not to tell us, do not lie, merely state that you will not answer that question.”

That sounded simple enough.

What followed was an exhaustive recounting of Harry’s life to date, at least as it related to money. They wanted to know what clothes he’d received, where they had been obtained from and, if possible, how much they cost, how long they had been worn for and what had happened to them after that.

Also, what other items his muggle guardians had bought for him over the years, and how much they cost.

When Harry revealed that the hand-me-down t-shirts he’d received from his cousin tended to become the rags he’d use to wash windows, Martok began questioning him about what chores he performed in the household, how often, whether he received any renumeration for it—Harry had to ask what renumeration meant—and if his cousin’s workload was comparable.

Harry was hesitant to answer, at first, but when Martok and Dornuk didn’t react badly to what he was saying, he found it easier to continue.

In some ways, it was freeing, being able to get it all out. When he offhanded mentioned being shut in the cupboard for weeks at a time, being fed only scraps of bread and water, his account manager and overseer started another list noting down the food and drink he’d been given.

Eventually, Harry grew curious as to why they were asking these questions.

“Vernon and Petunia Dursley of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, have been receiving a monthly stipend for your care,” Dornuk said. “We are establishing parameters of compliance so that we can facilitate their prosecution for embezzlement.”

Harry blinked. The Dursleys had been getting money because he was living with them? “How much was this stipend?” He wasn’t sure he wanted the Dursleys prosecuted. Sure, he’d never enjoyed living there, but they had taken him in. It was probably better than an orphanage; at least he’d never had to worry about more sinister types of abuse.

“They received the minimum monthly stipend, since they didn’t provide receipts for reimbursement for additional expenditure. Minimum monthly stipend is set at 500 galleons paid on the first of each calendar month.”

Harry frowned as he did the mental calculation. “That’s nearly two and a half thousand pounds! A month? How in Merlin’s name can that be justified? I don’t think they even spent that much on Dudley!”

“Ideally, any monthly amount left over should have gone into a bank account in your name,” Dornuk replied. “From what you’ve told us, I suspect this wasn’t done.” It wasn’t even a question.

Harry snorted. “You would suspect right.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The entire time his relatives had been forcing him to work for his keep, constantly telling him what a burden he was, and he was probably the one funding their yearly holidays and the new cars.

Well, one thing was for sure, he no longer felt any concern that the Dursleys would prosecuted. The utter gall of it!

He sat up straighter. “What else do you want to know?”

v^v^v

An hour later, Martok was finally finished questioning him.

Harry slumped back in his chair, his hunger making itself known again. He wondered how much longer it would be before he could finally get some food.

Martok gathered his papers together and left, leaving Harry and Dornuk alone.

“Now that we have taken care of that, for what reason did you come to Gringotts today?” Dornuk asked.

Harry blinked. He’d almost forgotten his initial plan. “I wanted to see if I had enough money to rent a suitably warded property where I could live,” he explained. “I did some accidental magic this morning. Rather than wait around for the Ministry to arrive, snap my wand, and expel me from Hogwarts, I decided to see what my options were. I don’t suppose you know if Beubaxton’s or Durmstrang would take someone with an expulsion already on their record?”

Dornuk glowered at him. “We are not a scholastic placement service, Heir Potter. As to your first question, you the interest on your accounts would grant you ample funds to rent a modestly sized but heavily warded abode for as long as you like. The larger the property, the more costly proper wards—and their upkeep—would be. Your accounts could not sustain anything larger than a small manor without regular injection of additional funds.”

That was good news. Even if he were expelled and couldn’t find another school to take him, he wouldn’t be in dire straights. But Dornuk wasn’t finished speaking.

“A much more prudent action would be to instead live on one of your currently vacant, already warded properties. In that way, your accounts would continue to accrue capital rather than stagnate.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “I have properties? Like, with houses already on them?”

Dornuk made that clicking noise again. “I should have expected you to be ignorant on this matter, given everything else learnt today. Yes, Heir Potter, you own many properties throughout Great Britain as well as various others scattered around other countries. A good number of them are currently leased and occupied, but several are vacant.”

This was brilliant! Better than he’d hoped in his wildest dreams!

“Can I get a list of the vacant ones?” Harry asked, almost trembling with eagerness.

Dornuk shuffled through one of the files he’d brought with him and handed Harry a sheet of parchment.

Harry glanced over the seven houses listed, noticing the symbols attached to each one. “Can I get a written list of what these symbols mean?”

Dornuk clicked again. “They are runes, Heir Potter. Here, I have obtained the introductory material we make available to all muggleborns enrolled at Hogwarts. Hopefully, a study of it will assist you with your banking requests.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, flicking through the booklet in search of an explanation of the runes. “I wonder if there’s other stuff muggleborns get that no one bothered to give me? I mean, technically, I’m not a muggleborn, although I might as well be, given the way I was raised.”

Dornuk clicked. Harry was starting to think it was how he showed he was irritated, so he stopped musing aloud about things that weren’t Gringotts business.

Comparing the booklet with the list, he found something that suited his purposes in a property in Stinchcombe. The house was much too large for him, but the warding was comprehensive and locked not only by blood but with precautions against someone being compelled or having their blood used without their knowledge. Only a live, uncoerced descendant of the ward casters could pass without being keyed into the wards from the inside, and only if they hadn’t been specifically excluded.

“Potterstone,” Harry announced. “That looks like exactly what I need.”

Dornuk nodded. “I will arrange for a portkey to be prepared.” He opened the door and had a word with one of the guards standing outside.

Knowing that he had a plan and a safe haven where he could stay made Harry feel a million times better, although he was also starting to feel a bit tired. It had been an emotional day. “Thank you. Now that’s been taken care of, why was Gringotts sending me a summons?’

Dornuk smiled, showing a lot of sharp, pointed teeth. “I’m glad you asked, Heir Potter. We wanted to see if, now that you were legally declared an adult, you were ready yet to take up your responsibilities as Head of House Potter.”

Harry rubbed a hand over his face. “Do I even have to tell you that I have no idea what that means? What responsibilities? Also, ‘House Potter’ sounds a bit more important than I thought my family was.”

“It is not Gringotts’ responsibility to educate you on what your responsibilities entail. We only desire to know if you plan to take them up.”

“I need to find out what that involves before agreeing to anything,” Harry replied. “I don’t suppose you know how I could go about learning all of this?”

“For a fee, Gringotts is willing to facilitate an introduction to a suitable tutor. We can also provide contract assistance; we are bankers, not lawyers, but for the right price, we are willing to use our legal team on our client’s behalf.”

“What kind of price are we talking about?” Harry asked cautiously.

“For the introduction, 50 galleons as well as ten per cent of the eventual agreed amount for tuition. For the contract, 500 galleons for a standard temporary employment agreement, 1000 galleons if you want it blood locked with inviolable secrecy oaths.”

Harry sat back to think that over. Before he could come to a decision, a chime sounded in the room.

Dornuk stood. “I will be back.” He left the room. When he returned, he put a sealed Ministry envelope on the table.

It was addressed to Harry, and its contents contained exactly what he thought it would. Magic use had been detected at his location, and not only was he expelled, but a ministry representative was on their way to snap his wand.

That was enough to make up his mind.

“I agree to the introduction and the blood-locked employment contract. I would also like you to cease payments to the Dursleys immediately, and since I’ve been expelled from Hogwarts, please stop any yearly fee I might be paying. How long will it take for the introduction and the employment contract to be ready?”

Dornuk’s eyes glittered. “We can have a minimum of three tutors for you to choose between available twenty-four hours from now. They will be screened for suitability and under standard oaths not to reveal anything should you not choose them. When you have made your choice, and the price has been agreed, it will take two to five days for the contract to be written. At that time you will return to Gringotts to sign it.”

Harry nodded. “That’s fine. Is it possible to get a portkey to Potterstone that will bring be back to Gringotts tomorrow for the introduction? I’d rather not let the Ministry get their hands on me until I know what my rights are.”

“A multi-use portkey will be 50 galleons. For a further 200 galleons, you can hire one of our on-site cursebreakers to ensure you and your belongings are free from tracking charms. For an extra 100 galleons, we can place a temporary mail redirect that will ensure all mail sent to you is held at Gringotts until you choose to retrieve it.”

“Yes to the portkey, yes to the cursebreakers. How long is ‘temporary’? How would I retrieve my mail?”

“A temporary mail redirect lasts three months, at which time you can choose to extend or cancel the service. You may retrieve mail by coming in person to claim it, by sending a pre-approved individual to do it on your behalf, or you can hire a mailbox for a further 20 galleons a month. A Gringotts mailbox can be used to both send and receive mail directly from Gringotts at two sickles a letter.”

Harry sighed. It felt like he was already spending a lot of money, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of options. Or, if he did, he didn’t know about them. Might as well spend it now and then ask his new tutor to teach him what he needed to know. He could always change the arrangement with Gringotts later.

“I’ll hire the mailbox,” he said. “Just for the three months that the mail redirect is active, to be looked at again then. Also, yes to the mail redirect. As soon as my tutor has explained what it means that I’m now of age and what responsibilities there are, I’ll book an appointment with you to go through the things you summoned me to discuss.”

“Very well.” Dornuk made another note on his parchment. “Please wait ten minutes while I arrange for a portkey, mailbox, and a cursebreaker.”

Harry really didn’t mind being given ten minutes by himself to think about everything that had happened so far. After a long summer of drudgery, it felt like things were finally starting to happen. He was excited to see Potterstone, to see a place where his family had lived.

Maybe, if it was safe enough there, he could even arrange for Sirius to join him? Maybe his tutor could teach him what he needed to know to finally get his godfather the trial he needed to clear his name.

He would probably get over his anger and start to miss Ron and Hermione, but that was in the future and was something he could deal with then.

Until then, he had lots to learn.

He couldn’t wait to get started.