I’m Rich, and Getting Richer
The second letter Hermione penned for him – the one he found in the bedroom – turns out to be mostly a catalogue of what she did, made, bought and put where. Well, she did put a real letter in front – on top? – of the long, long, long list, but it’s nearly as short as the other one – for her standard, that is – and penned just as hastily, as if just an afterthought.
It reads:
Hi, Harry,
I can’t do much for you overtly. Can’t put too many things in the pack too, however expanded it is. The contents of the pack will be scrutinised quite closely. But the people in Nautic Alley and Tecnic Alley gave me lots of ideas, such as this lovely tent, and I already got some experience anyway with expanded space.
More about expanded space, wizard space and tent space can be read in one of the books in the library I gathered for you, and you could absorb a memory crystal about making any of them if you’d like, which I put in a secure box there. But, in short, you can put one in another kind but not one in its own kind. So you can’t put an expanded bag in an expanded trunk, but you can put a Doorway (which is made of wizard space attached to a door) in an expanded trunk, and so on.
Interestingly, if there’s a different layer in the middle, you can put two items of the same make in one another without cancelling the magics in each other, like how I put this tent (which has its own special kind of space expansion category, which is called tent space) inside the expanded pack, and how the tent has trunks with expanded space in them. And, as you know from our 4th year, you can live in an expanded trunk. But you can’t live in a tent while it’s rolled up. You’d go into stasis if you did that, and the proprietor said magical people don’t really do well in stasis. It’s actually like that for all living things, including plants, but plants (even magical plants) tolerate stasis better than animals or people. But people living in expanded trunks stored in a rolled-up tent won’t notice the difference and will live normally.
By the way, details about this particular tent’s technicalities could be found in the booklet in the drawer beneath your desk. Don’t forget to read and familiarise yourself with it most of all! I also put details of what I put where in another booklet in the same drawer. Because when Andy gave me permission to give Teddy to you, she also gave me permission to gather all the Black assets to send along. And, since you gave me power to execute the Potter estate in your name, I’m doing that, too. And let me tell you, Harry, you are filthy rich, as Ron would say. What I could get you are all in enclosure trunks like what Newt Scamander had. The rest have been liquified into precious gems and metals and more common ones, or traded for greenhouses and lifestock and foodstuffs and drinks and meals in stasis boxes or rooms/tanks. Again, the details are all in the booklet, so please read it some time. But the abbreviated details are on the list I’m attaching to this letter, and I’ve connected it to the booklet, so I guess you can also find the details for each item there. Just tap the item on the list with a magically charged finger and it will expand and show you the details. Tap it again to hide the details/close the connection.
I know this can’t change the fact that you won’t be here with us. But I do hope this can help you, even a little. If you find yourself missing us, look into the drawer under the desk beside your bed too. We got you lots of photo albums and memories as well as a pensieve to view the memories, as well as some essentials for in case you need them before you got the chance to explore this place further, such as bottled water and ready meals for you and milk and cleaning kits for Teddy. But don’t look to the past too often, Harry. Trust that we will go on, and please go on into the future in wherever you end up with the knowledge that we will be fine here, and we will always be with you in memory and in these things we give you. Worse comes to worst, many of us have already planned to move away from Great Britain, and Kingsley is helping us in that.
Stay safe and well and happy, Harry.
Love,
Hermione
PS: In short, the trunks and most others are in the 2nd and 3rd rooms beside yours. I suggest you deal with them soon, if you want to have company in the tent, unless you wouldn’t mind housing them in your bedroom. The things left out in the common area are the leftovers and last-minute additions, shrunken in containers with their own individual stasis wards. Take care to redo the ward by tapping on the indicated rune after you’ve taken something from one of them but still have lots in there, to prevent the rest from spoiling. You can even reuse the containers with the attached wards if you take care to preserve the runes etched or sewn there.
PPS: I bet you are wondering how I accomplished so much in so short a time. The answer is what we did in 3rd year, with lots of Pepper-Up, Portkeys and mad dashing here and there, and lots and lots and lots of help. Got to save the contents in the Room of Lost and Hidden Things before Crabbe destroyed it, too! (I just requested the Room to put a mockup of everything for when we caught up with the time.) And Headmistress also donated not a few things from Hogwarts and her own personal stores. And others are doing that too now because they accidentally found out about it. They are displeased with me for not telling them sooner. George is confiscating the Turner right now to gather his own donation. I shudder to think what he’s putting together. I warned him not to get you into trouble, but still, be careful, Harry!
PPPS: I know you don’t want to be the Master, Harry. But I think all 3 will be safer with you. I fetched the 2 from their resting places. They are in your mokeskin pouch. You could just forget it and blot this message out. No need to deal with them further, but at least this means they are permanently out of greedy hands here.
He scowls at the last part. `Damn you, Mee! How if I ended up in an alternate reality of our own world and there’s already a set of the Deathly Hallows there? Can I even just forget them?`
On top of everything, it just makes him more upset with her.
But, at the same time, he can’t deny that he is touched with how she has prepared mementos of his friends and stored it near at hand. He never thought so many people would be concerned about him, too, after the year they’ve had, but pettily wishes they could have done something about the latest unfair treatment heaped on him.
So, well, it’s… complicated.
He continues grumbling to himself as he grumpily and very cursorily browses the long, long, long list penned on the second page, the third one, the fourth…. `Huh. Unlimited pages? How on earth did she do that? With a connection to another source, too? And how on earth do I even spend this much in my own lifetime?`
Some of the items listed disturb him, on top of it all. `What do I do with three mansions and a vineyard? Then again, how do I keep all these farms? How did she get the recipes for Butterbeer and all? How do I make any of these without the ingredients and proper stills? I don’t know how to make a still! These ready meals and foodstuffs alone can see me eating well for at least a decade without doing anything! And why’d she send snacks along? I’m not on a holiday, here, Mee! Huh, now how did she get her hands on Snape’s potions journals? I didn’t even know he got any!`
Suffice to say, he quickly closes the endless-seeming catalogue and stows the now-innocent-looking two-paged letter along with the other one in the drawer under the writing desk… which he doesn’t take a peek into for fear of a great temptation to just stay. He still has many things to do, after all. And finding a better – safer, cleaner, in a far friendlier neighbourhood – area for him and Teddy to live in is just one of them.
Still, he takes a cursory look into the second and third rooms, making use of the fact that Teddy is still asleep in the crib in the bedroom.
And, as Hermione implied in her letter, the generous spaces there are chock full of rows upon racks upon isles of… miniaturised wooden trunks, possibly, in various finishes and styles, arranged on numerous narrow little shelfs like books in a library. Except that these “books” are wooden and each just a little bigger and fatter than a matchbox, with tiny handles positioned for easy removal, sticking out of the little shelfs like that.
And this doesn’t take into account all the “leftovers and last-minute additions” that act as a maze outside, in the main room of the tent.
Also the expanded drawers that may also be there in places other than the bedroom.
And he did see a lot of such potentially expanded drawers in the bathroom alone.
And there could be a… Doorway?… or more… already propped up and active somewhere nearby, looking like just an innocent door – or three – that “naturally” belongs to the tent, just hidden by all the towering piles of… those.
And he hasn’t checked the pack for any expanded pockets or the main space for things not in the stated contents, too, or things that either Hermione or George might have concealed in the outer shape of just some commonplace necessity.
He might have to also check his mokeskin pouch for the possibility of a matchbox-sized trunk or… other things… stored in there.
`Huh.`
It’s… surreal, really. He was a nobody living in the cupboard under the stairs of a four-bedroom house for the first ten years of his life after the year he doesn’t remember having been spent with his parents. Then it was upgraded to a small room full of discarded items in the same house for the next seven years or so. And, at Hogwarts, he was a boy among five in a dorm-styled room for six years, with only his bed, trunk, bedside table and surrounding floor claimable as his own space, and sometimes not even that. And, last year, he was one among three – then two – individuals living – no, surviving – out of wherever they could lay their heads on, mostly in a tent at least half smaller than this, with limited to no supplies ready at hand.
Now he is far, far away from any semblance of his homeland, and the only other occupant of this generously sized tent is a month-old baby, and Hermione – and others? – has seen to his provisions – not even rations – and homes for the next decade in the least.
Right under the collective nose of the Ministry, at that.
He bursts into laughter on that very thought.
And it doesn’t take long for the laughter to turn into sobs.
Which may have – uncontrollably – been too loud, for then he can faintly hear a baby’s cry from the direction of the bedroom that Hermione has designated as his.
Hunting frantically for formula-milk-making tools and supplies calms him down some, oddly enough. Hitting himself on the head several times and laughing wryly to himself, likewise, when he remembers what Hermione wrote in her second letter and does find those items in the drawer under the desk.
But, well, making the formula milk is another thing entirely, he finds out. Just like when he had to clean Teddy up.
And, when he at last manages it, after begging his disconsolate little godson for “Just a moment, please, Teddy-bear?” several times, the baby refuses the bottle.
And chooses to just cuddle up to him.
He sighs, slumps in place, and practically collapses onto his bed with the little baby snuffling against his chest. “Damn it, what a guardian am I, huh, Teddy-bear?”
Maybe he should hunt down the childcare “memory crystal”, whatever it is, just to help him deal with Teddy?
Or maybe, he just needs to prioritise what to do first?
He wishes Hermione were here in person to tell him what to do.
But then again, didn’t he feel mad with her for having manhandled him and Teddy? The explanation she put in her letter has helped some, but not all the way. It’s not the first time he’s mad at her for having nosed so brazenly into his business, either. Third year with the broom Sirius gave him and sixth year with the potions book, case in point.
And, come to think of it again, would he just accept what she might tell him now, when her loyalty to their cause had seen her Obliviating her own parents? He may be biased, there, as he still yearns to be with his own parents and godfather, but still.
Now he realises that it’s just… easier… for someone else to do the thinking, the planning, the route-charting.
And only now does he feel that it does not sit well with him.
And, even so, it’s partly because he believes that he will relive his Harry Hunting days wherever here is if he doesn’t decide things for himself. Just like in those moments after the Veil spat him and Teddy out. While now he has Teddy to think about, not just himself.
Maybe Andy was even right about Dumbledore – Albus, that is, not Aberforth – as well as others having decided things for him for so long being very not good for him. And it sits even less well with him.
`Damn it. Pull yourself together, Harry! No soul-gazing, for now.`
He purses his lips, closes his eyes, lays himself sidewise on the bed with Teddy nestled in the circle of his arms on the bed, takes a few deep, wetly rattling breaths, mentally pulls himself together in each breath, and lets his face nestle beside Teddy’s, smelling the soft-scented soap that his own hands carefully lathered on the little baby so recently.
The coo he is rewarded with springs more tears into his eyes, but it’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right. Teddy appreciates him. Teddy depends on him. And, now, he must pull himself together to plan for the two of them then take action. It’s not harder than teaching the DA, no, it’s not. `I can do this.`
Well, first of all: Teddy. Always Teddy. So, wherever he goes, he must have enough supplies for his little godson on his person. Now, did Hermione include a waistbag – preferably an expanded one – he could stuff full of Teddy’s things? Should he Accio it or should he use Apparaccio instead, in case the bag must travel through things otherwise?
Secondly, should he scout out the area alone? Maybe when Teddy is asleep? Is there a baby-monitor charm for if the little one suddenly needs him when he is away? Is there an additional ward he can put round the tent to make it safer for his godson when the said godson is left alone? How long can he leave Teddy alone at a time? Would it be better if he brought Teddy along instead and pack up the tent while he’s at it?
In the end, he Apparaccios the waistbag he’s hoping for, and Hermione apparently did think of it, for it suddenly appears on the spot on the bed to his right that his wand points at while chanting the spell: a medium-sized dragonhide thing with two openings – at the top and in front – that are apparently all expanded inside… a few times over, it seems, given how deep but not too deep his arm can reach into each. Next is to Apparaccio a sling to carry Teddy securely in, and to fill the middle space of the waistbag with Teddy’s things, and the front one with his own things – well, “just” a bag of gold nuggets for trading, a bottle of water and a few energy bars he’s just found by blind search in the drawer under the desk, really, for now. And then out of the tent he goes with his now softly babbling godson tucked securely in a sling nestled against his chest, the waistbag attached to him beneath the baby’s rump, his dragonhide cloak covering them all, and the pack once more riding high on his back.
Repacking the tent after cleaning it thoroughly, both with magic, is next after that. And then its rolled-up version goes into the pack that he proceeds to close and lock with a touch more magic, just in case. He feels tired again, now, somehow, but he can’t think of it yet, not right now. So off he pads along the – yup, he was right the first time – large corridor whose floor and walls and ceiling are encrusted with… things… and glowing fungi… and is that a huge nest of… what kind of animal is that?!
Well, anyway, he chooses to go to where he may have landed, first of all.
And he finds it, not too far away, judging by the remnant pulse of magic.
But there’s no trace of the assailants but for bones that have been picked clean. And what even are they? He doesn’t recognise most of the bones, and it’s not because they’re all cut up!
He doesn’t find his spectacles anywhere round it, too, somehow.
Now, what should he do?
Other than putting a belated Bubblehead on himself and Teddy, that is, because the smell! And there could be spores from the fungi flying about, too.
`Spores…. Hmm. What would Neville do in my place? Luna?`
He pads down the corridor, looking for a branching path or even a way up or down, as he bittersweetly summons up the figures of those two friends in his mind.
He imagines how Neville would enthusiastically harvest those quite-unsafe-looking fungi and Luna would coo over the lethal-looking bat-like animals he’s just found nesting high up on the wall, and grimaces in horror .
`Nope. It’s good they aren’t here. Now, what about… Hermione?`
His face stays twisted. Because Hermione! She’d drill him about time and place and available supplies and multiple executable plans that he could apply based on those variables, just like during their “camping trip” this last year, because she’d apparently read up on books about military strategies and all in preparation for the oncoming war.
But planning itself is not a bad idea, right? Andy also advised him to plan, whether he was seeking her advice or not at that time. The standard of plans that she would accept was even stricter and more robust than Hermione, because, “You are lord of two Houses, Harry, even if you and I and Teddy are the only remnants of those two combined, and a leader must be able to safeguard not only themself but also those that they are responsible for.”
But he wouldn’t be able to plan if he didn’t know anything about the variables, right? `Now, why didn’t I think of that? Damn it, Harry! You’ve been such a moron!`
So back his wand goes into his hand, with a “Tempus” on his lips, and… “Huh. I don’t recognise that. What is ‘Taungsday’? What does that ‘R’ at the back stand for? I’m in another universe entirely, then? Oh, no.”
Checking for the location only makes him more confused. Because the glowing letters in front of him reads, “Level 45 of Coruscant’s Undercity” and he can’t help but squawk, “Level forty-five? And what does undercity even mean?”
So back to the previous campsite and back into the tent he goes, of course after sanitising himself and Teddy and recasting the protection and concealment wards round it, and into the bedroom they retreat for a more in-depth search.
A few Apparaccios targeted blindly to outside of the tent are involved in this. Firstly to find a guidebook about “Coruscant’s Undercity”, which nets him something like a very flat telly screen which is touch-interactive and wholely illegible to him. Secondly to find him a non-living translation guide for the… book, which nets him the rusty-red-painted head of a mouthy, murder-brained robot by the… designation?… of “HK-47” that can somehow speak parseltongue. And, thirdly, following the advice of the bodyless robot, to find a “blaster” and “credits”, which nets him a futuristic-looking pistol and a small pile of metallic chips of various shapes and sizes, respectively.
Well, that last summoning makes him wary. He just asked for things he should get to help him and Teddy navigate this new… galaxy… and the robot-head came up with these?!
`Murder-brained, indeed! Damn you, robot!`
He sadly can’t return the futuristic book yet. But the gun and the futuristic money? He returns them all. Because, Who knows if these things got a previous owner already? Someone might not notice they’re missing a book, or at least not immediately, but such can’t be said of a weapon and money, especially in a place like this, and he doesn’t want to take the risk or the moral low should he be caught red-handed handling these stolen items.
HK-47 the robot-head laments about his “Jedi”-like morals, but he can’t care less about it. He does have his morals. They’re the only thing he truly has now for himself, because he’s just raising Teddy for Remus and Tonks – and failing at it, so far – and the many, many, many mysterious supplies surrounding him still don’t feel like his. And by God he’ll hold onto those lamented morals with all his might.
He won’t be him, otherwise.