Work Text:
From the time of the Roman occupation, the wix of Great Britain had many measures in place to hoard their wealth. They captured dragons and invented powerful wards to guard their things, built impressive mazes and charms to hide them, and they invented powerful rituals to reclaim what was theirs.
Time passed, and wix forgot. A centralized bank was founded, and some of the supposedly lesser duties were handed off to supposedly lesser beings in exchange for gold or bonds.
Some families remembered pieces of the old ways of guarding their wealth and families, though. The Blacks, the Smiths, the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Potters, and the Longbottoms of Britain remembered, though the odd traditions they kept were obscure and half remembered and buried under centuries of families being married into, dying out, and combining with time.
At the time of Lord and Lady Potter’s deaths in 1981, their traditions were unchanged for close to two centuries, and were as follows:
- Absent an adult Lord or Lady, all Potter vaults would be frozen and a vault for the upkeep of the Heir would open automatically. The Heir would be placed with a guardian named by the former Lord or Lady, or their closest magical blood relation would be guardian, should those named by the Lord and Lady be unable or unwilling to raise the child.
- Upon their 11th birthday, the Heir would enter wix society. This was to include attendance at a formal school of magic, attendance at suitable balls and events for their station, attendance at meetings of the current government suitable to their station, and a formal review of their inheritance and magical core. This last could be done in the home with the guidance of a sufficiently knowledgeable Lord or Lady Potter, but since the establishment of Gringotts Bank and the movement of most Potter assets into their care, every Heir Potter had completed these last tasks at the bank rather than in their homes. The Heir Vault would split at this time, one part continuing to go to his Guardians for his upkeep, and the other part to be used by the Heir for whatever they wished to buy.
- Upon their legal majority, a formal review of their assets and magical core occurs again, and a formal review of their titles occurs, as well. In Great Britain, this legal majority occurred at the age of 17, per the Legal Adulthood Act of 1793, unless the child obtains approval for legal emancipation from both a suitable representative of the current government and from an adult familiar with the child, such as a relative or school teacher.
- Upon the Lord or Heir's marriage or major financial changes being made to the vaults or assets, it was tradition to submit to core and medical checks to prevent line theft and other nefarious manipulations of the Heir. Upon failure of the Lord, Lady, or Heir to appear for or pass any checks, all assets minus the Heir support vault would be frozen until all conditions for the Lord, Lady or Heir to be healthy and of sound mind were met.
So, when Harry Potter became an orphan as a toddler, the Potter accounts were frozen. When he then failed to meet with his account manager on his 11th birthday, the Potter accounts were flagged for probable line theft. When he continued to fail to appear over the next several years, Manager Ironclaw, manager of the oldest and most traditional Gringotts accounts, became worried.
When he was declared emancipated in October of 1994, by admission to the Triwizard Tournament, with the agreement of Department Head Crouch on behalf of the Ministry, and Headmaster Dumbledore on behalf of the school, Ironclaw began to plot.
It had become painfully obvious that Heir Potter, now Lord Potter, was being kept in the dark about his lordship, and likely other pertinent information as well.
Two days after the end of the school year, in June of 1995, a team of human-passing Gringotts employees were dispatched to Lord Potter’s residence. Letters had failed to reach him, formal requests to his guardians went ignored, and evidence of the previous few years made it unlikely that he would be going to the bank alone at any time in the near future.
They easily tore down tattered remnants of what seemed to be a sacrificial love ward, and were surprised to find no other active wards or detection spells on the property. It was still before dawn, so the family was asleep when they opened the door and split up.
Legal adulthood or no, Lord Potter was still young. As with other cases of muggle abuse that the team had been dispatched for, a powerful sleeping spell was released through the house, and then the team went to their designated areas to gather photos and evidence and make notes.
Locks on the fridge and cabinets, “Harry’s Room” inside the boot cupboard, an immaculately clean living space, and a trashed chore list were recorded. So were the blood-stained crib mattress, bars and locks on the bedroom upstairs, and the school trunk and broom found in the locked cupboard.
After they’d finished documenting empty spaces, they moved on to the occupied rooms, making notes there as well. Full diagnostics were run on muggle and wizard alike, and then it was time to clear out.
Lord Potter was taken with their medic to a hospital bed in goblin territory by portkey. Lord Potter’s belongings were removed, a note explaining that he ran away from home was forged in his handwriting, the sleep spell was lifted, and the team retreated back to Gringotts. The muggles would never know they were there, and the wizards knew better than to interfere with goblin matters.
There was work to be done.
Now, normally, it would be unthinkable to kidnap a Lord, perform spells on him, or remove him from any location against his will, much in the way that kidnapping Clan Chief Ragnok or muggle Queen Elizabeth would be an outright act of war.
However, this was not a normal situation. Ancient treaties with the goblins, from the time they first had dealings with British wix, both superseded any more recent treaties and had more firm requirements. Upon suspicion of mental or physical tampering, or upon sufficient evidence of an heir being improperly trained for his station, allied parties were obligated to do what they could to fix these errors.
Of course, other parties to these treaties could launch a formal inquiry into the situation should they deem something improper or underhanded to have occurred. Unlike inquiries built on newer treaties, which would be judged in the Ministry of Magic by the Minister or the Wizengamot, this treaty had the blessing of Lady Magic, and would thus be judged by only Her.
All parties with relevant knowledge of the situation would be judged. Their knowledge, their actions, their intentions, and their ties to the situation would come to light, and Lady Magic would be judge, jury, and executioner. There was no recourse should one be displeased with the outcome, and no way to be retried. There was little in the way of literature about past judgements either, as such things were both extremely rare and considered extremely private to the parties involved.
All said, drawing the judgment of Lady Magic was about the last thing any smart wix or being or creature would want.
Evidence gathered, the goblins built their case.
Most immediately, it was clear that Lord Potter had not been provided with adequate food, clothing, shelter, or medical attention in the home where he’d been placed. Ironclaw knew that generous payments had been made on an ongoing basis supposedly for these purposes and more in the raising of Lord Potter, so he called for a formal audit on all magical and muggle accounts that had received his money. The money obviously didn’t pay for his basic needs, so what did it pay for?
What he found was enlightening.
Every payment from the Potter Heir Vault, traditionally used to pay a non-family guardian for the expenses of raising an underage heir, to the Dursely family was followed by spa visits, golf or car club membership fees, muggle gaming store purchases, and more. There was no evidence in Lord Potter’s room or belongings that the money had been spent on him.
Payments from the Potter Heir Vault to a generally unremarkable squib named Arabella Figg for “Heir Training” would require more investigation, as squibs are commonly employed for such tasks, and she may indeed have tried to prepare Lord Potter for his role in society. If so, she had failed miserably at explaining crucial aspects such as managing his vaults and the etiquette of interacting with creatures or his peers, however.
Payments from the Potter Heir Vault directly to his guardian, Albus Dumbledore, were legal, if not highly suspicious. They were large enough that he seemed to be attempting to drain the vault entirely, and there were a number of suspicious circumstances that led to him being named guardian in the first place.
Even more concerning, were the payments from the Potter Heir Trust Vault, traditionally used by the heir to pay for sweets or hobbies, to get used to the idea of having money and spending it responsibly. Lord Potter had been present only once, when this vault first opened on his 11th birthday. Receipts from the time indicate that the money he withdrew all went to paying for his school supplies, even though it should have been his guardian paying for his school things from the heir upkeep vault.
Since then, the vault was accessed by a variety of people who took money that was spent on a variety of things. In 1991, Minerva McGonagall accessed the vault to pay for a top of the line racing broom. In 1992, 1993, 1994, and 1995, Molly Weasley accessed the vault to pay for Lord Potter’s and her children’s school things, as well as several new robes and shoes and pieces of jewelry for both herself and her daughter. In 1993, 1994, and 1995, Severus Snape accessed the vault to pay for the ingredients for Wolfsbane Potion, along with a reasonable extra amount to pay for a skilled brew master’s time to brew such a potion each month. And, from 1991 until 1995, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had accessed the vault to pay for books, brooms, Christmas presents for their friends and family, muggle and wizarding clothing, sweets, Hogsmeade miscellanea, and more.
It was quite the mess. Theoretically, each of those could have been requested on Lord Potter’s behalf, but it seemed unlikely. Both professors had expressed vague confusion over the source of this “Hogwarts slush fund” they had never seen before upon their first visits, and it was concerning that Lord Potter had never returned to the bank after his first visit, as well. It was even more concerning that the Weasleys and Ms. Granger had all expressed a certain nonchalance about the vault, seeming to think that it was both endless and there to pay for anything they desired.
As Lord Potter would likely be continuing to heal for quite some time, Ironclaw decided to proceed as though his charge were an infant or a child of his own clan, one without the knowledge or ability to make their own decisions, but whom he could reasonably act on behalf of.
Knowing the chaos that would soon follow, he sent brief missives to his cousins heading other international Gringotts branches with a warning of what was soon to come. He sent warnings to public institutions, hospitals, schools, libraries, and more that may feel the effects.
And then he enacted the Total Recall Ritual on Lord Potter’s behalf.
As designed, the ritual would follow the line of ownership of every book and patent and artifact known to belong to the family. For close to a thousand years, since the first magical families made their claims on British soil, all items entered into their vaults or manors or declared theirs at periodic claiming rituals were added to the family's private stores.
The ritual worked backwards, however, as well. This was a lesser known effect, as the ritual itself had only been conducted a handful of times, and the mere threat of it was generally sufficient to keep potential thieves looking for easier prey. It was also exceptionally rare that a Lord of one of the most ancient lines would inherit anything of note from any other house as well.
So it was a surprise to Ironclaw to find not just one or two vault doors awaiting him in the ritual chamber, but nearly 100.
"Ah, this is a surprise. How many of you are solely monetary assets?"
When a full third of the doors flashed white, Ironclaw continued, "Very well. If you'll step aside then, I'm afraid there's likely to be more pressing matters at hand in these other vaults."
After some shuffling he asked, "Would you show a crest or family name on each door that best describes you, and then sort yourselves by estimated British political power in say…one month, once all the recalls have settled? Yes, I see two Hogwarts houses here, so that'll trigger at minimum a recall for the other two. I'm guessing we'll see recalls of the other major families and their allies shortly, as well. If you have substantial contents that may vary after other recalls go through, please step aside for now.
"I'll start with… the Hogwarts vaults. Please have an itemized list of your contents in decreasing order of value prepared at the front, with items whose ownership may shift visibly noted. I'll also need a list of all patents, licenses, and contracts that are now needing renegotiation for each vault, sorted by the institution or individual with the most renegotiation needed.
The days were grueling.
It seemed that the last several decades of potions advancements were largely fraudulent, and the medical system was in shambles. Emergency agreements were issued to the world's major hospitals to allow the brewing of what had become standard treatments for one month while a more permanent agreement was negotiated, but that wasn't the worst of it.
A full half of global potions masters had forgotten nearly all of their craft, having learned stolen recipes and stolen techniques from stolen books. China and Japan had enclaves still trained in their traditional medicines who were largely unaffected, as were some of the more isolated tribal communities, but soon the International Potions Guild was entering open negotiations for the rights to nearly 2000 books to appear in the guild libraries, and for their information to return to their members.
The Malfoy recall two days after the Potter one sparked a collapse in the global enchanting field, with dozens of enchanters suddenly losing large amounts of their craft, and Ministry-sponsored enchantments to clean water, cook food, or stabilize living structures simultaneously stopped working across the globe.
The Black and Lestrange recalls happened the day after that, and resulted in another rush of temporary agreements as a majority of trained healers lost their knowledge of many transfigurations and counter curses developed in the last century. It took another three months to pin down, but instability in global floo networks and a marked degradation in smooth portkey travel was eventually linked to agreements with these families as well.
The other recalls were quieter, if they happened at all. Booksellers became accustomed to bringing their current license agreements to their local Gringotts branch every time they discovered another book slip for a book they were no longer allowed to sell. Potions brewers became accustomed to forgetting details of what they brewed when they went home each day, or to not knowing the details of what they were brewing at all. Governments scrambled to put together temporary fixes where they could.
As Ironclaw suspected, some individuals were more strongly affected than others. By nightfall that first evening, notices had been sent to 47 individuals explaining the situation and advising them to immediately declare individual or familial allyship with one of the ancient families, so as to be swept along with one of their recalls. Absent a declared alliance, he recommended they present themselves immediately to a Gringotts branch along with their notes and patents for anything they want to lay claim to, so that ongoing use of a family's private books or recipes or methods in the development process could be negotiated on an individual basis.
Some individuals were lucky, having demonstrated valuable skills in brewing or enchanting or other various fields, and thus were eagerly accepted as allies of one family or another. Deals were made, licenses were adjusted, and their lives went on.
***
Severus Snape had had a hell of a month.
It started with a headache one morning, which turned near crippling as he looked at the papers on his desk and then the books on his shelves. His first thought was that the Dark Lord had been upset with him over something the previous day, but as the day progressed the pain only increased. Deciding it was useless to try to work on anything, he decided to meditate, try to recall what had happened.
He found that his mind was in tatters.
Oh, it had been done with precision. Rather than the niffler-in-a-jewelry-store disaster that his mind usually was after an especially brutal interrogation with the Dark Lord (or Dumbledore, at times), memories of specific books and information had been surgically extracted. Picking through, he could clearly identify the titles and authors of dozens of books whose contents he could no longer recall reading. Upon further investigation, he was able to discover the precise shape of certain ideas that were no longer there, and by time of year, symptoms, and other clues, he could identify the general purpose of certain potions he used to brew frequently but no longer knew how to.
This last bit was more difficult to tease apart than most, as it was clear that whatever magic had been done identified only the base recipes as not his own. He clearly recalled stir patterns and cauldron type, most of the timing but none of the ingredients used. He could recall clearly his own techniques for flattening an ingredient with his knife or how he would grind or mince or keep certain ones whole, though he could rarely recall which ingredients they actually were.
Then news came out about the recall process, and he was rather miffed to read about it in the Prophet, rather than having been told by Lucius directly. It started with articles about the disaster that huge memory gaps were making in public works, and over the course of the next week he followed progress being made as certain private sellers and the Ministry struck deals to keep certain information public.
Each night, he consulted the gaps in his memories against the list of what he knew to be removed, and checked off one by one the books that returned to him.
And then it plateaued.
Books he’d gotten from Flourish and Blotts were returning with regularity, as were those from Obscurus Books on Knockturn, Tomes and Scrolls in Hogsmeade, and similar stores he’d frequented over the years in France and Italy. He was relieved to receive word that the International Potions Guild had come to agreements, and happily ticked off the techniques and book titles and base potion recipes that they had apparently bargained for.
Luckily, both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore had been too busy with their own messes to bother him during this time. He wasn’t granted much details, but from the level of panic and surprise on their faces and in their actions, it was clear that neither had been warned of the initial recall, but that the Dark Lord had been swept along with the Malfoy one.
With Sirius Black alive but a fugitive, and all other male members of the main line within the last five generations presumed dead, there had been a frenzy of activity trying to identify who had initiated the Black recall. The mutt denied it had been him, but like Dumbledore, he had been in quite a state since the first Potter recall occurred, demanding that Potter be found and brought to him.
Black, along with what looked like all the living Weasleys and about half the Order had all decided to live at the Black townhouse that summer for some indecipherable reason, and they seemed to spend most of their time fighting with the house rather than finding Potter or deciphering what the Dark Lord was up to.
More concerning was the dramatic shift he noticed in everything from Dumbledore’s apparent magical ability to his memory to his knowledge of magical names and places and theory. Avoiding the man as he’d been doing this summer, it wasn’t immediately obvious, but upon reflection, he seemed to have lost broad swathes of his memory much as Severus had.
Unlike Severus, however, he seemed not to notice the gaps. He didn’t seem to be recovering his knowledge in stages as Severus had, as professional societies and booksellers and others made deals for the legal sale or teaching of private family knowledge. Putting his observations together, it seemed that Malfoy had been pressured by the Dark Lord to come to arrangements for his allies with the other families at any cost, and so other than the initial blip, and inordinate amounts of time in meditation since then, the Dark Lord seemed largely unaffected after the initial recall occurred.
Finally, he assembled his documents and hired a lawyer for the day, deciding that if Dumbledore had gone batty and Malfoy couldn’t be bothered to inform him of anything, then he’d negotiate for himself as a brewer and Master of the International Potions Guild. He was vaguely amused, though also frustrated, to see a line of individuals waiting at a newly established “Recall Negotiations” desk. Luckily he’d made an appointment, and made his way directly to the office of his account manager, Ripclaw.
Though he knew Ripclaw was already familiar with his own patents and assets, he’d come prepared with copies of them all, along with detailed notes on everything he’d lost and since regained, his suspicions on sourcing, and what he absolutely needed access to in order to function as a Potions Master again. The Potions Guild had sent him Rita Smith, solicitor, and as she started listing off terms, it was obvious that she’d already done several of these negotiations on behalf of other Guild brewers since this whole mess started.
Though he could tell he was being offered a steep discount, it was still crushing to see that just copies of the stolen books he’d read would cost him a decade of his Hogwarts salary. Cutting brewing rights down to just the potions he’d based modifications on for the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, which were ones that St. Mungo’s and other global hospitals had already come to agreements for weeks ago, would be another fourteen years of his salary. Brewing rights for everything he was missing, including the basic Wolfsbane he’d modified and the more exotic potions he’d experimented with to mimic dementor effects or ward a room, tended to have use or brewing rights that were so expensive as to be completely unreasonable to even consider trying to bargain for.
At a loss, he asked if there was a way to bargain directly for an alliance with the owner of those patents rather than buying their brewing rights individually. He then asked where in Circe’s name Albus had gotten so many books that were so clearly stolen. His account manager grumbled something at that question, and after a serious look he exchanged with his lawyer, Ripclaw barked something into his communication crystal.
Several minutes later, the door opened, and another goblin entered the room. He said something to Ripclaw, then seated himself at the desk without introducing either himself or whoever he was here to represent. Vaguely fascinated, he watched as Ripclaw and the unnamed goblin entered some kind of debate, and then his notes on what he was missing and his work were laid out. The debate increased in both tension and volume until they seemed to come to a reluctant agreement.
“My client is in immediate need of a personal brewer and will support your experiments. You’ll be free to sell excesses of any standard healing potions at your own discretion, to hospitals or privately or otherwise, and you will confer with my client’s healers to see the list of potions needed for the child. My client has agreements with all currently recalled families, and promises to quickly negotiate agreements with the relevant families should any future recalls occur. As my client’s employee, you will agree not to harm my client or their allied families, and will then have reading and knowledge rights of each of the families restored to you. You will have brewing rights for all my client’s potions, and those of the allied families, and will be provided with whatever ingredients or brewing space you require for your experiments. Future patents and sale rights may be negotiated separately. Is this acceptable?”
“I already have a job. I’m uncertain that I have the time to be a family’s private brewer, much less conduct my own experiments, as well. This is doubly the case if they have a sick child for whom I’ll be the sole brewer. Can I know the name of the child? The family? Or your own name? How can I know that my existing vows will not conflict with the vow to this family, especially without knowing any details?”
“All Hogwarts contracts have been canceled, you should have received word of that with the first recall a month ago. My client’s recall brought in two of the founder’s houses, which necessitated recalls on the other two as well. Your contracts as Potions Professor and Slytherin Head of House were suspended pending renegotiation immediately, as were the contracts of all your colleagues. Unless you’re referring to a different employer?”
“Ah… no. You say I should have received word? Directly or via someone else?”
“Word of renegotiation was sent to the head of each institution before the recall, though I can see that the Hogwarts Headmaster may be more involved in this than I’d suspected. I haven’t had a chance to track down anyone who has not come forward themselves yet, though it should have been suspicious that none of the educational staff have come forward for renegotiation yet.
“A current Hogwarts Professor's contract would solve some of your issues, giving you brewing and knowledge permission of whatever the Hogwarts families decide to gift to the Hogwarts library. If you intend to brew for the Hogwarts Hospital Wing as well, then you can be included in the standard medical brewing set we’ve granted to St. Mungo’s and a few others, though I’m seeing no paperwork for you having previously held the title of Hogwarts Brewer, nor for you having been paid for the job, either in salary or as needed. It is typically a full time job though, and is incompatible with simultaneous appointment to other full time Hogwarts jobs like Mediwitch or Head of House per the Hogwarts Charter.”
“I see, I didn’t know that was a separate job. Albus was quite firm that brewing for the Hospital Wing was included and expected within the role of Potions Professor. I didn’t know it was supposed to be paid or contracted separately.”
“As things are being settled still, would the Hogwarts families be willing to pay my client backpay for his years in this extra position? I think it should be obvious to everyone that there has been a miscarriage of justice on several fronts, but that it would go a long way towards establishing goodwill for one that your client hopes to hire as a private brewer,” Ms. Smith asked.
The goblins slipped into gobbledegook for a heated argument again, before finally settling down.
“A full audit of the Hogwarts finances has moved up in my client’s priority list. In the meantime, Hogwarts can offer 15 years of the last known Hogwarts Brewer’s salary, plus 10% for appreciation and inflation. Is that acceptable?”
“It is. If my contract is currently lapsed, then I have no intention of returning to Hogwarts for anything other than gathering my things and formally informing Albus and Minerva of my resignation. I still need more details before I can make any binding promises to do no harm to your client though.”
“Understood. In that case, I’ll raise binding secrecy wards so we may speak frankly.” After a moment, the room flashed, and Severus could feel a thick layer of magic pressing in on his mind and his core. “As with negotiations between the other families, we are now bound to silence for this conversation. Lucius Malfoy was bound by the same magics when he came in to initiate a recall on behalf of the Malfoy Family, and his named allies are all bound to the same silence and non-aggression now, as well. May I continue?”
“Since we’re speaking frankly, may I clarify? You’re saying that the Malfoys, the Blacks, the Lestranges, whoever your client is, the Dark Lord Voldemort, and any other allied family are now magically bound to share knowledge with each other and do no harm?”
“Correct.”
“Very well. The Dark Lord can hardly order me to harm someone who he himself is bound not to harm, and I suspect that whatever he pushed Malfoy to agree to on his behalf is something I’ll be allowed to agree to as well, especially since I’m rather exceptionally useless as a brewer at the moment. I was going to need some sort of an agreement, either by becoming an ally of one of the families or gaining steady employment as a medical brewer either way. I’ve similarly become quite useless to Dumbledore in my current predicament. Yes, I think this is rather inevitable. Who is your client?”
“Harry Potter.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, I’ve been making concerted efforts to contact him for years now.”
“He’s safe? I heard he went missing, but everyone has been too focused elsewhere, and I haven’t been able to brew a simple Wiggenweld, much less conduct a finding ritual.”
“You’re oath-bound to my client? Enough so to conduct a finding ritual?”
“Not that I can remember any such rituals at the moment, but yes. I owed his father a life debt that then passed on to him when James Potter died. I’m bound again to protect his life, which I swore to do shortly after his mother died, and then I swore a third time to do whatever was necessary to protect him shortly after the Dark Lord’s return, along with the rest of Dumbledore's Order. That was just before this whole recall mess started.”
“That’s… very odd. Could you recall the precise wording of those oaths? I suspect you weren’t summoned earlier or identified as having a substantial conflict because magic already recognizes your house as a vassal of Potter. I suspect that a simple acknowledgement of such would be all that is necessary to be considered a formal ally, which would solve all the immediate problems you came in to solve today, and would require nothing further from you.”
“A vassal? I didn’t know the Ancient Houses still took vassals. I actually didn’t know that Potter was one of the Ancient Houses either.”
“They are. Both the Gryffindor and Peverell lines ended in the Potter line long before you were born, and the boy is now considered the last living heir to the Slytherin line as well, among others.”
“Still, I thought there were more requirements than that, how would the Snapes have been considered a vassal house accidentally? Or is it the Princes somehow?”
“The Princes. You were Head of House at the time of the life debt, despite your mother’s disownment. Your grandparents knew they were dying and had heard good things about you from their contacts, so they named you their heir before they died. One Head of House to another, the two pledges of protection likely carried more weight than you realized. Add in the transferred life debt and its quite sufficient, and debatably a stronger binding than the traditional vassalage oaths were. Traditionally, they’d be sworn on your name or your bloodline, but I suspect swearing on the memory of the boy’s mother bound you tighter, as well.
“You may consult with your lawyer or others, but I suspect your best option is not to fight it. You get what you came here for: rights to books and knowledge, rights to brew, rights to sell. You’re already bound to such an extent that your mind and magic will push you to provide what you can for the boy. He’s ill and a child and needs a brewer. Your oaths and your life debt will push you to fill that role, regardless of your other duties or your wishes, so it is in your best interest to do so under a favorable contract.”
Severus grimaced, noticing for the first time how his magic was urging him strongly to accept whatever the as yet unnamed goblin offered.
“Yes, it’s quite obvious now that I have a name for it. Ms. Smith, if you could negotiate something reasonable, I fear I shouldn’t be in the room for this. You should be warned though, despite our binding, my relationship with the boy is… fraught at best. Depending on the wording of his truce with the Dark Lord, the reasons are likely moot now, but I’ve been quite overtly and deliberately antagonistic for our entire relationship. The boy neither likes nor trusts me, as I intended, and is more likely to curse anyone who suggests trusting me than to stop and listen. It… may be beneficial for me to remain a nameless brewer that he neither sees nor interacts with.”
“Noted. May I recommend you make your way to the medical caverns for a screening before your employment, and to go over my client’s potion needs? I’ll work out the details with your representatives, should you have no further conflicts or questions. When we’re ready, you can sign and swear, and I’ll show you to a brewing space that has been set aside.”
“Very well. Will I have time to return to Hogwarts and pack?”
“Yes, I think you should do that before you return, as our discussion may go long.”
“Very well. Ms. Smith. Ripclaw. Master Goblin,” he nodded to each in turn, breathing a sigh of relief when the wards lifted, and stepped out of the room.
Hours later, he returned, walking slowly so as to not disturb the delicate vials he had packed, and still thinking through how to stagger his brewing. He was relieved to see that a contract was neat and ready for him to read, a blood quill was already on the desk and ready for him to sign with, and a ritual dagger was ready for him to swear on. Potter still wasn’t present, not that Severus expected to see him, as Healer Pearlbow had been quite adamant that Potter would be in the medical wing and asleep for at least another week.
He finally learned the name of Potter’s account manager, Ironclaw, when he stood in for the Potter family as Severus acknowledged his vassalage. He signed and swore using the wording they’d agreed upon, and Severus felt his mind slip away under the onslaught of information he’d forgotten.
He woke up, rather annoyed to see he was in a hospital bed of some sort. He felt his body, his magic, his oaths, and found that they were more settled than he remembered them being for quite some time.
With a pang, he realized how the life debt put his last few years of schooling in a new light. Losing his friendship with Lily, falling in with the Death Eater crowd, and even applying for his Mastery were all tinged now with nudges from his magic and half-overheard comments from James Potter that pushed him one way or another. With a wave of sorrow, he reflected on his interactions with Harry Potter since his first year, and felt the way his magic pushed his words and his actions in particular ways to conform to the life debt and around his oaths.
A goblin in Healer’s robes came in, and he struggled to stay polite as he chanted and squinted at him and poked at him with his staff. Finally, he was allowed to get up, and made his way back to what he knew was Ripclaw’s office.
He was shown to a new suite of rooms and lab within the cave warren. It was close to the medical wing but not directly adjacent to it, and felt surprisingly similar to the dungeons he’d lived in for most of his life so far.
His days fell into a pattern from there, and he almost entirely didn’t notice as the days soon slipped into months. The Dark Lord didn’t call on him, and neither did Dumbledore. It seemed that Dumbledore had been quietly retired from most of his non-ceremonial positions in the wake of his new instability since the recall. It seemed the Dark Lord was satisfied with how the recall had highlighted corruption and upset the status quo at the Ministry, as he stepped back from the raids of the first war, which had always been intended to serve a similar purpose. He also seemed to be satisfied with the strength of the truce between them, and made no moves Severus could discern to kill or incapacitate Potter.
Severus was a little shocked to find himself needing to read the paper to keep up with any politics at all, but also privately relished the way he could steadily flow from cauldron to cauldron throughout the day with little interruption.
It seemed he’d acquired an elf somehow, as his bed was always made, the laundry always done, and a meal was always ready for him. It soon slipped his mind whether he was brewing for himself or for the boy or for sale elsewhere, though with each day he had a mix of standard hospital brews and experiments to try out.
Ms. Smith continued to visit periodically, asking if his schedule and amenities were working out, asking if he was missing anything, needed any books or ingredients, required any references or experts to consult with from the guild.
She tried to go over his finances with him a few times, but he’d really never had a head for numbers. It all looked stupidly huge to him, and all he really saw was that he was getting massive amounts of money from a few different places and spending basically nothing. It seemed that when he sent requests for books, he usually was gifted a copy from the allied families instead of buying them, and when his robes got ruined from another potion exploding or his socks wore through, replacements seemed to be considered part of the necessities his employment covered. Similarly, he couldn't find anywhere he was being charged for rent or food, or for borrowing a house elf, or even for his lawyer's time. Once he was shown that the ingredients for his experiments were being paid for by someone else, he really couldn’t keep track of whatever she was saying about funds and shell companies and…he really didn’t much care. It wasn’t him, and it seemed they were happy with both his current level of progress and their total lack of communication. That was good enough.
Ms. Smith came around less frequently, and before he knew it a year passed, and then two, then five. He was happy to let whoever was paying him handle all the bureaucratic nonsense of dealing with the patent offices, along with the social nonsense of publishing his work in the guild journals. He’d never much enjoyed having to do the conference circuit, and was still sorely disappointed in everyone else’s nonsense published in the quarterlies.
He was doing less healing potions and more experiments these days. He wasn’t quite sure why: if the allied families had hired another brewer, if his negotiated prices had gone up, if the ill child was less sick now. He found he didn’t especially care one way or another.
Albus Dumbledore had died from some necrotic disease, in an impoverished muggle village in the middle of nowhere after putting on a cursed ring, and the Prophet had had a field day. Lucius was Minister now, fooling absolutely nobody about who the power behind his throne was, though Fudge had been pretty easily thrown out of office in the wake of the series of disasters that the recalls had led to.
One afternoon, after finishing his experiments for the day, Severus was surprised to see James Potter waiting for him in his sitting room. After a startled moment and a double take, he realized that no, this was just a fully grown Harry Potter, who he rather belatedly remembered was his employer. One of his employers? His lord?
Honestly, he’d had some vague intention of figuring out what the whole vassalage thing meant but then… just never cared enough to actually get through a book about it. It never came up, and nobody bothered him about it, and there were far more interesting things to learn and read about, instead.
He stood there for a moment, debating what to do, before deciding that there was no way a Potter would expect social niceties from him, no matter the situation. It’s not like he was calling on Narcissa.
He gestured with his wand towards the kitchenette, pleased to see that biscuits and tea were stocked, as always, and that his typical setting now had a matched extra cup. As he waited for the tea to brew, he wondered with some anxiety what this was all about. He’d been having such a good day, too.
He gestured again, and served the tea, plating up the biscuits and seating himself in the chair he was quite certain had been used just once or twice before. Ms. Smith or Ripclaw would always meet with him in a conference room or their offices, and they each knew to schedule any other appointments he had to attend in a conference room as well. In fact, he was quite certain it had only ever been Lucius in this chair, the couple of times he’d invited himself over for tea. Just as Potter had done…
“Have you spoken to the Minister lately?” Severus started, suspecting where this tactic had come from.
“He did say you were rather hard to pin down. And I hate speaking to lawyers.”
“I’m sure it’s far easier to get in contact with my lawyer for whatever you need than with myself.”
“Certainly, but I don’t need anything brewed at the moment. Or rather, I’ve already got brewing all sorted. Unless you have any complaints about your pay or work or something, I’m not here to discuss that.”
“Oh? What are you here for then?” Severus asked, feeling a little more anxious.
“There’s a vote coming up. I’d like to ask you to take up your seat.”
“What on? Why do you think I’d vote as you would?”
“Well you’re welcome to appoint a proxy as you like. Draco has been sitting in the Malfoy seat since Lucius became Minister. Or Narcissa could proxy, as she has been sitting in the Black seat.”
“What’s the vote? Who is for and against?”
“It’s a bill to increase monitoring on those in muggle areas, to make it easier for wix to be removed from those homes and fostered into wix families. Publicly, it is a joint bill between Lucius and myself. There’s backing from much of the Dark, and most of the muggle-raised I’ve shown it to are in support as well. They have neither name nor political power though, and the Light purebloods are vehemently against it. They claim to be the voice of muggleborns in the Wizengamot, but in this case as in others, they’re just fighting against whatever the Dark wants. There’s some very loud voices arguing against it, both to the public and to what’s left of Dumbledore’s supporters, and it’s going to be close. You don’t have to attend if you do not wish to, nor do you have to speak, but I’d very much appreciate it if you could read the bill, and send someone to vote for you if you agree with it. Not everyone has ancient treaties that let the goblins kidnap them in the dead of night, and a lot of kids like me just end up dead.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“Huh. You’ve really been out of touch lately, haven’t you?”
“I only did politics when I had to, either for appearances or for my own protection. I never got a thrill from it like Lucius does, nor do I enjoy it for its own sake as the Dark Lord does.”
“Hmm. Can’t say I’m surprised. The short answer is yes. Ancient treaties dictated that Heir Potter was to be presented to Gringotts for a screening on his 11th birthday, but I missed that. Ironclaw noted that I seemed to be entirely uneducated, and then was emancipated during that Tournament mess.
“He declared me a Lord in duress, stole me from that awful muggle house in the early hours of the morning, called for Lady Magic’s judgment, and then performed a recall. The whole time I was in the healing chambers, he acted on my behalf, negotiating a peace with the Malfoys and the Dark Lord, laying out contracts for the use of my stolen goods, and working out who had stolen what from me.
“It was all a big mess, I’m sure you remember, but things were starting to get back on track by the time my fifth year started. Hogwarts was a bigger disaster than most and half the staff didn’t return, so the ICW stepped in, loaned Hogwarts a few teachers for the year, and made a bunch of other changes. They got the DADA curse broken, and introduced a bunch of new classes, too. After spending so much time in the caves here, I got kinda attached, and grew close to one of the dragons down here. I graduated a few years ago, and Hagrid and I have been working on our Creature Masteries since then. We’re working with Romania on making the dragons happier here, and there’s bits of curse breaking and warding and other fields to the job, too, working with all the vaults like we’ve been doing.
“Anyways, I’ve been trying to stay out of politics, stay out of the public eye and all, but this one was kind of important, so I’ve been trying to gather up all the votes I can.”
“Who all is so against it?”
“Granger and the Weasleys, for one. The Diggorys, who have made it clear they’ll never forgive me for Cedric’s death. The minor houses of Turpin, Edgecombe, and Li are all against it out of some combination of spite and stubbornness. Granger is the big one though. As far as I can tell, she’s by far the loudest, and is the only muggle-raised witch or wizard who has come of age in the last decade and actually claims it’s a bad thing to remove wix from muggle homes. As though she ever went home herself during the holidays. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but I clearly remember her going home even less than I did.”
“Well, send me the bill, I’ll figure something out. Was it Narcissa who initiated the Black recall, then?”
“No, that was Ironclaw on my behalf, as well. The line of succession had gone from Lord Arcturus Black to his eldest grandson Sirius Black in 1992 when he died. The family magics declared Sirius unfit to be Lord at the time, due to his incarceration and subsequent madness, but he was never tried, never convicted, never disowned, and therefore still fully in control of the succession. The first thing he did upon getting out of Azkaban was to sneak into a Gringotts branch and file a will leaving everything to me, and declaring me as his sole heir. Then, I’m emancipated during the Tournament, and suddenly there’s an adult who can be named Lord Black at the end of the line. When Ironclaw figured it out, he claimed the title and did a recall for me, and then used Black Primacy to recall the Lestrange estate and force an allyship with that family as well.
“The Malfoys were… not thrilled, but recognized that it was both legal and fully within his rights as my proxy, which then made the Malfoy/Dark Lord negotiations happen much smoother as well. Narcissa was entirely unwilling to put herself opposite Bellatrix in any way, even in an implied or legal battle, and the Dark Lord felt that the binding of three of his inner circle to be my allies had already bound him significantly. He was already rather distressed about the amount of knowledge lost, so forcing the Malfoys to ally with me was the cleanest solution.
“I think Draco has finally stopped pouting about losing the Black Lordship in the last year or so, and the fallout from there was pretty public. Lucius passed on that the Dark Lord was happy about all the public infrastructure crumbling without warning, and it was easy for Lucius to get his Malfoy cousins into many of those jobs.”
“Hmm. No other fallout?”
“Dumbledore was the biggest. Once it was obvious that he was not allied with anyone, and that his knowledge was not returning like everyone else’s, but rather seemed to be rapidly deteriorating even further, he was removed from office pretty quickly. Nobody wants to be on the bad side of things when Lady Magic’s judgment really gets going. Hermione had similar issues, though being a minor I understand why she didn’t slip into total dementia.
“I understand that the Weasleys have had… substantial financial difficulties since then, and are struggling to pay all their debts. Same with the Dursleys. I’m unsure what exactly happened, but somehow Ginny Weasley got tied up in the judgment specifically. She ended up married to Dumbledore’s brother quite young, even before her OWL year. Last I’d heard, she got pregnant and dropped out, and I think she waits tables now at the Hog’s Head.
“Anyways, that’s about all. I’ll send along a copy of the bill, I’d appreciate your thoughts.”
“Of course, I’ll contact Ripclaw about my seats.”
***
Two weeks later, Severus stepped out of the caves for the first time in over three years.
Contrary to what he remembered of Diagon Alley, it was clean, nearly sparkling in places, and seemed to be bustling with life in a way he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. He saw that the closed storefronts and boarded up apartments that used to be commonplace were tidied and open now, and even the Leaky Cauldron had gotten an upgrade.
He was just barely on time when he finally made it to the Wizengamot chambers and claimed his family seats. He listened as the court discussed all manner of useless things, and cast his vote along with Potter’s faction when it was time to do so.
The bill passed, barely, and he considered who to name as proxy, now that the seat had been claimed.
He certainly didn’t want it, especially not if it would frequently interrupt his brewing as it had today, but that didn’t mean it would be right to just let it sit open, or for some distant family member he’d never met to try to sit in it themselves.
Maybe… he’d have to watch closely, but maybe Potter would do well. They had similar backgrounds, after all, and Potter was already sitting in his own seat. Even more appropriate than naming a close friend as proxy would be to name the lord he was a vassal to, he did know that much.
Yes, he’d invite Potter over for tea, they could discuss their views, and Potter could be his proxy. That would work out just fine.