Chapter 3
Chapter 3 -
Gringotts Wizarding Bank was a bit of a misnomer. While the wixen population might store their wealth deep in the warren under Gringotts and boss around the tellers in the marble fixture at the center of Diagon Alley, it wasn’t, per say, a wizarding bank. Truly, Gringotts operated as the face and entry point of the goblin Horde. Most wixen didn’t bother to think about the fact that it was sovereign land under goblin control, and that when you stepped foot inside, you were held to a higher, far older set of laws than what the Wizengamot ruled the wixen with.
Severus was one of the few respectful wixen that ventured into the London hub of the Horde’s domain. He kept his voice even and didn’t mince words. He never tried to cheat the goblins out of their rightful cut on his transactions with them, and he always gave fair prices when supplying the Horde with his modified potions recipes. Most potions masters didn’t consider the other magical races when they designed new brews, but Severus was smart, and saw the vast potential of supplying to an underdeveloped market. Really he’d say it was purely business, an ambitious undertaking to develop better potions for the Horde and profit from it. That was part of it, yes. It helped that creating was his passion, and having brews that worked for all races fed into his deep seated desire to see a more fair world around him. Not that he’d ever admit that.
This great relationship he maintained with the goblins was definitely not something Severus wanted anyone to take notice of. He spent years as a spy for mad men, and that left a mark on a person, in his case quite literally. Given this, if you were a random wixen observing Potion Master Snape do business at Gringotts, you’d think the Horde hated him. Snape was ignored for several minutes by the goblin teller when he made it to the front of the queue, the gnarled creature finishing up his counting before acknowledging Snape with a growl. Snarled words were thrown at Snape, demanding he follow the teller through to the administrative offices, as “the Horde won’t do business with your sort in public spaces.” Snape followed the teller silently, glaring at anyone he caught following him with their stares. The two walked through several corridors in silence, making their way to a posh office, and stepping in together before privacy wards snapped into place as the door shut behind them.
“Potions Master Snape, it’s too late in the day for this to be a social visit, and you’re not due back with your modifications to the Liver Deflating Tonic for two months. What can the Horde do for you?” The goblin waved Snape to a seat, all formality and hostility dropped as soon as the privacy wards went up. With a click of his thick nail on a rune embedded into his desk, the goblin had tea ordered, making sure it was set to be prepped in the room so as not to offend his guest.
“Master Ironclaw,” Snape paused, sorting out what he wanted to say. This was a mess of a situation, and he needed to be careful how he shared this newfound information. “I was called in by an old school friend to check on the living situation of a child.” He paused again, making eye contact with Ironclaw, the goblin’s expression going flat. “Abuse is suspected and likely.” Ironclaw slammed his fist once against the desk, interrupting Severus with an angry growl. Goblins do not condone any form of child abuse or neglect, it was one of the olde laws, the First law, and always harshly punished. Severus cleared his throat and continued.
“Once I arrived I discovered that I couldn’t get past the wards. They seem to be Black-magic blood wards, and they’re designed to keep out blood relatives.” Taking a deep breath and pressing on before he could be interrupted again, Severus leaned forward in his seat. “I have never been made aware of fathering any child, and if this child does indeed turn out to be mine, I, Potions Master Severus Snape, am requesting the help of the Horde with investigating and punishing those who have harmed blood of my blood.” Severus paused here, looking over the mutinous expression on Ironclaw’s face. “If the child is not of my blood, I also request aid of the Horde in freeing them from the Black-magic blood wards and abuse, at price set by the Horde.”
In the silence that followed, Severus leaned back in his seat. He had to wait for a formal response to the boon he requested of the Horde, never a thing to be taken lightly. A soft chime rang through the room, and a tea service appeared between the men, ready to be brewed and served. Severus, while watching the emotions play over Ironclad’s face, prepared a cup of tea and waited for him to counter his request. He hoped they that they would deal fairly, given the situation. He didn’t think he could truly afford their help at the rate they might charge ordinary wixen, unless he payed in gold, blood and labor.
“The Horde will provide aid, Potions Master Snape,” Ironclaw ground out, his voice carrying a deep fury. “The price set will be reacquisition of life, rights and property of the abusing party, as per the olde laws. Will you aide the Horde in collecting this bounty?” With a smirk, Snape agreed, crossing his wand-hand over his heart and bowing low in his seat, showing his neck to the goblin. It was a far sweeter deal to be had, if the Horde took payment against whoever had done wrong to this child and possibly to Snape himself. Thinking of what might have been done to him in order for him to forget about ever fathering a child soured Snape’s mood further.
“The investigation might not be fast, but it will be completed thoroughly. If the claim is true, and the First law truly being broken here, then all who caused this harm will be met with Horde justice.” Ironclaw’s vow was completed with a snap of his gnarled fingers, a parchment of their terms and the discussion appearing neatly on the desk. “Now, tell me everything you can about this child and these wards. We’ll have someone out immediately to start looking.”
“If you permit the use of my wand, I’ll pull the memory for your team to review and keep, but I have another concern as well.” Snape offered, as he looked over the document he was handed, pressing his thumb into the seal at the bottom and pushing some of his magic into it to confirm his identity. At Ironclad’s agreement, Snape removed a vial from his robes and handed it to Ironclaw. “The vial is inquisition-grade quartz, no false memory can be stored here.” Snape carefully removed a copy of his memory of the evening, and placed it in the vial once it was handed back. The stopper glowed a bright white and sealed, confirming the integrity of the memory sample.
“Thank you, Snape. I’ll get that to an investigator. What else do you need from the Horde, if we’re not reviewing it now?” It was clear to Ironclaw that the potion master was growing uncomfortable with whatever else he had in mind, as he was unusually fidgety for one as controlled as Snape.
“I need a full magical and health examination completed on my person, lifetime records.” Snape swallowed thickly at this request, loathing allowing anyone to look so intrusively into his magic and his life. Goblin magic wasn’t terribly compatible with wixen magic, so this wasn’t a common request; most goblin magic was innate, no wand or foci needed, and it seemed to originate on a different plane than wixen magic, deeper into a person’s core than wixen magic dwelt. Like being part of the bones instead of the blood. With how invasive goblin magic would need to delve to do a reading of Severus’ health and magical core it was absolutely going to hurt, physically and magically. The nature of the differences meant that not much could be hidden from one of the deep goblin scans, which was lucky for their investigation, and would hopefully be worth the pain.
“The Horde will accommodate this request, if you think it’s pertinent to the investigation.” Snape nodded, and Ironclaw continued. “Payment for this service will be made by the abuser, in the case that wrongs were done to your person that relate to this First Law criminal investigation, or out of your vaults if nothing is deemed related. Do you accept?” Once Snape agreed again, the lines appeared on the parchment, and he signed the addendum.
“Well, time is gold, Snape.” Ironclaw said with a vicious grin. “Finish your tea. Then we begin.”
While the weather was starting to turn cooler, having just moved into September, Harry spent more time outdoors, readying his garden for fall and sneakily munching on all the fruits and veggies he’d managed to grow under the Dursley’s noses. He peaked over the fence to look again at Number 6, as for the last few weeks it seemed to become the favorite place to a couple of owls, which was an odd enough sight for Harry to be curious. The smaller owl was a dark speckled grey with huge orange eyes, and the larger one was massive, brown and had odd feathers that looked a bit like eyebrows. The sight of the eyebrows on the large bird made Harry laugh, and he was just trying to get up the nerve to move closer when Mrs. Cole stepped outside into her backyard.
Oddly enough, the owls didn’t seem bothered that she was so close to them, and as Harry watched Mrs. Cole actually pet the smaller one! He couldn’t hear what she was saying to it, not that it probably mattered what a person would say to an owl, but after a minute or so it stuck out its leg, where Mrs. Cole attached an envelope. She uses owls like carrier pigeons? Harry thought completely bewildered. In his confusion, he didn’t notice Dudley sneaking up on him until he was being pushed to the ground violently.
“Hey freak, are you spying on the neighbors again?!” Dudley shouted, craning his fat neck to see over the fence where Mrs. Cole became aware of her audience. Kicking out at Harry where she couldn’t see him, Dudley laughed. “You should learn to mind your own business, freak! No one wants to be looking at or talking to you.”
With another kick to Harry’s side, Dudley walked away, heading back inside to play some more on his Playstation, now that he had done his cousinly duty for the day, as he saw it.
“Oh, Harry dear, are you alright?” Mrs. Cole had managed to catch sight of the second kick Dudley had given Harry as she’d hurried over when she heard him shouting. Wretched little pig-boy. She though as she dusted Harry off and checked him over. “Come on along, we’re going to have tea at mine. We’ll just pop over before Petunia notices, no worries lovey.”
As Harry and Mrs. Cole moved around the side yard to go to Number 6, a strange couple walked up the driveway of Number 4, ringing the bell and taking Petunia’s attention away from her afternoon serials. She hurried over to the door, as she’d been expecting a package to be delivered. Petunia had had the pictures of her and Dudley from the article done up properly in frames so they could display them, but the frames were too large to carry home from the store, so she was waiting on the delivery man. Pulling open the door quickly, her smile fell.
“Good afternoon, madam,” said the incredibly short bald man before her. He was in a pinstripe suit and looked to be about a hundred years old, heavily wrinkled, carrying a short cane and with rings on each and every finger. His thick mustache, the only hair on his head besides his unruly eyebrows, covered most of his mouth when he spoke. “I am Mr. Silverblade from the bank. This is my associate, Ms. Clearwater. We’re looking for the Dursley residence, we have come into some information on an estate that might be claimable to them. Might we have the right address?”
The woman standing next to him was willowy and fair, but her expression was dour as she looked over a notebook, taking notes as she listened. She was rather incredibly plain, a face you’d forget just as soon as she walked away, and she didn’t speak at all to Petunia, just kept taking notes.
“Well, this is the Dursley residence, yes of course. I’m Petunia Dursley, might you come in? We don’t need the neighbors gossiping.” Petunia said the last with a bit of a thin laugh, ushering the interlopers in to the sitting room, and waving Dudley out. “Go into the kitchen and have your snack, Dudders, mummy just has to talk to these people from the bank.”
When Dudley had cleared out of the room, but before Petunia had turned around, Ms. Clearwater pulled her wand and cast a Confundus charm at Petunia, then guided her to sit down. Throwing up a Notice-me-Not charm and a Silencing charm, she then sat herself, and started pulling items out of her small clutch, placing the selection of things onto the coffee table. “Whenever you’re ready, Master Silverblade.” Ms. Clearwater spoke, setting the final items down- a long roll of parchment with a self-inking Dicta-Quill, and a small vial of clear potion.
“Thank you Ms. Clearwater.” Silverblade chirped, dropping his glamor and allowing his large pointed ears to shake out, his eyes turning back to their normal yellow and his face to shift slightly sharper. “Always hate these glamours, it feels like my ears squish right into my head. I can’t imagine what a full-blooded goblin would feel having to wear one.” He paced in front of the coffee table, checking that he had all his documents, the truth serum, and his trans-tele-scription rune stones. He’d need those to forward the parchment instantly through to the other factions of the investigation team.
“Today is the first of September 1989. As this investigation is related to the breaking of the First Law, no legal representation is required; truth spoken will either condemn or free you in the eyes of the Horde. You have been identified as a squib, and confirmation of such has been attained through the searching of your medical and family records. We will administer 3 drops of Veritaserum, conduct our questioning, and provide the antidote. If you have questions you must speak now.” With barely a pause Silverblade kept speaking, looking at Petunia’s still confunded face and moving on. “After the questioning we will determine your innocence or guilt, and if guilty may remand you to custody. If we do not remand you, please do note that it is not because you are innocent; it is because we have further debt to collect in your name.”
The Dicta-Quill blurred across the page, taking precise notes of every question spoken and answer given. In the end two hours had passed, and Ms. Clearwater had to excuse herself to the far side of the room to be sick, tears on her face. The room was silent for several moments, before Petunia started to scream. She was quickly silenced again with a snap of Silverblade’s fingers, and restrained to the couch.
“This is much worse than we feared, Ms. Clearwater.” Usually quite affable for a goblin, Silverblade was shaking with fury. He used the rune stones to send copies to the other teams on the investigation, and covered his face with his large bony hands for a moment to get control of himself. “We have to interview the husband, their youngling, and the wixen youngling still. We’ll put up some safety measure in the mean time, but we can’t take them in yet.”
Putting away all the items she’d taken out earlier, Ms. Clearwater steadied her nerves. Looking into Petunia Dursley’s eyes, she finally spoke directly to the vile silenced woman. “You will rot for all of this. I’m going to hide this memory until it’s time, but I can’t wait to see you face Horde Justice.” Taking a deep breath, she focused eye contact and whispered, “Legilimens.”
Stepping into Number 6 Privet Drive was like walking through the back of a mirror and into another world. The house was a complete reversal of Number 4, everything on the wrong side, and the things inside the house were on the entire other end of the spectrum from the “normal” that was so intrinsic for the Dursley’s home. The walls were papered in rich hues of emerald, amethyst and deep rose, depending on the room, all trimmed in pale grey and littered with countless paintings, photos, and small tapestries. While the floors might be the same wood finish you could hardly see them with all the odd shaped rugs laid about, and not a single piece of furniture seemed to match.
Music like Harry had never heard before warbled loudly from the radio in the sitting room, reminiscent of a cat yowling as spoons were thrown onto a drum. Between the songs were adverts from brands Harry had never heard of, things like Xeep's Luscious Locks Solution and tickets to see the Appleby Arrows. While the sights and sounds of the house were a bit unsettling, Harry almost immediately relaxed at the nearly overwhelming smell of growing things.
Almost every available surface of the house had plants; some were fresh, potted in mismatched pots and kitchenware, and some were cut flowers of all sizes and colors. Snowdrops in tiny vases tucked in gaps on the bookshelves. Sweet basil growing unruly with tall stalks of purple flowers leaning from an end table covered in photo frames, the small figures in the frames waving. A wreath of shamrock over the mantle with delicate pink blooms and too many 4-leave clovers to count. If the surface didn’t have some plant matter on it, it was covered in books. Harry was in awe, turning slowly to look and look at all the different books and plants and “Oh my gosh, is that painting MOVING?”
With a laugh Mrs. Cole nodded, and kept guiding Harry in to sit on the couch. “Well of course it was, it wouldn’t be a very interesting painting if it didn’t move or talk, now would it? What sort of tea will you have, then? I have peppermint, and chocolate, and peppermint-chocolate, and Earl Grey.” Harry, still trying to stare over at the moving painting said nothing, his mouth agape and eyes wide. “You’ll catch pixies, Harry, chin up. It’s time for tea.” Harry just laughed hysterically in shock, tears tumbling down his pink cheeks, until he laughed himself out, little hiccups jolting through him as Mrs. Cole watched with a smirk. She pulled her wand and with a little wave sent Harry a saucer with tea and a biscuit. He held them gently, and murmured, “But… how?”
“It’s called Magic, Harry. It’s all Magic. You’re a wizard. Someday soon, you’ll be learning it too.”