Chapter 3
Ginny entered Harry’s private room at St. Mungo’s to see Narcissa Malfoy sitting vigil at the raven haired young man’s bedside. “What are you doing here?” she snapped angrily, face turning red in rage.
“I am doing what my sons would have wanted of me,” she replied haughtily. “I am sitting vigil on Harry James Potter-Malfoy.”
“Malfoy,” the redhead barked disbelievingly. “Harry isn’t a Malfoy, and as his fiancée, I demand you leave at once.”
“I am afraid that I cannot do that,” Narcissa told the girl, wrinkling her nose at the overpowering stench of whatever fragrance she’d decided to wear that day. “I promised Draco that if anything should happen to him, I was to make sure that Harry was being properly looked after, as is my right as his mother-in-law.”
“Mother-in-law?” Weasley squeaked, brown eyes wide and slightly terrified. “You’re not his mother-in-law. That privilege will go to my mum as soon as Harry wakes up so that we can marry.”
“Bigamy is illegal in the wizarding world,” the blonde cautioned with a glint in her ice blue eyes. “I’ll not have you tarnish the good name of Malfoy by making my son a bigamist.”
“It’s not bigamy if the supposed spouse is dead,” Ginny snarled, enraged. “And anyway, there’s no proof that Harry married the ferret.” Narcissa pulled out the legal bonding contract and enlarged it enough for the redheaded Weaslette to read it.
LET IT BE KNOWN BY ALL THESE PRESENTS
On this day, July 31, 1996, Harry James Potter entered into a soul mate bond with Draconis Lucius Malfoy. The bonding ceremony was performed at Malfoy Manor in the Olde Ways, and is legal and binding in perpetuity. Neither death nor abandonment will put this bond asunder, nor may anyone else break this bond by marriage. All other bonds, real or imagined, are hereby severed since Harry James Potter and Draconis Lucius Malfoy had chosen a permanent binding of love, fidelity and monogamy.
Witnessed by
Narcissa Amaryllis Malfoy
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy
Neville Franklin Longbottom
Luna Lorelei Lovegood
Frederick Gideon Weasley
George Fabian Weasley
Potions Master Severus Tobias Snape
DMLE Head Amelia Susan Bones
Deputy Headmistress Minerva Melanie McGonagall
Minister Kingsley Rutherford Shacklebolt
The golden seal at the bottom of the certificate denoted a pure soul mate bond, and Ginny’s eyes nearly fell out of her head in shock. “No,” she whispered brokenheartedly. “No,” she said louder, staring at Lady Malfoy with pure, unadulterated hatred. “NO!” she shrieked, bringing Healers and mediwitches running into the room.
“Miss Weasley,” the head Healer barked, grabbing the young woman by the elbow and escorting her out of the room. “There are other patients that require peace and quiet to encourage healing! You will leave this hospital at once, and don’t you dare return until you can control yourself!”
“I am sorry for the disruption, Lady Malfoy,” a mediwitch apologized, wringing her hands together fretfully. “I don’t know what has gotten into that woman, but she won’t be allowed back into this room again. How is Mr. Malfoy doing?”
“He is the same,” Narcissa replied, eyes on her son-in-law sadly. “I sometimes play recordings of Draco’s voice, especially of the time when they took their bonding vows, but nothing seems to get through to him.”
“All we can do is keep trying, and hope that something reaches him,” the mediwitch said softly. She nodded her head and left the Malfoy matriarch alone with her child.
“I’ve lost Draco to the war,” she murmured as she leaned forward to brush a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead. “I do not wish to lose you to the same madness. Please come back to me...”
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Arthur Weasley stepped into the hospital room later that week with a writ in his hand, stating that he was given power of attorney over Harry, by Harry himself, should anything happen to the young man to prevent him from making decisions about his care and his vaults. Lucius Malfoy was in the room this time, and he scowled at the elder redhead angrily. “Do not think that your family has any say over my son-in-law,” the blond barked. “Harry and Draco were legally bonded as soul mates, and wizarding law protects those types of bonds above all others. No matter what paperwork you may have, it will never supersede my wife’s and my authority over our son-in-law.”
“This power of attorney was made out between Harry and myself and is perfectly legal. It grants me all rights and decisions over every bit of Harry’s life, from where he will live to what will happen with his vaults. You don’t have a leg on which to stand, Malfoy, and I’ll thank you to leave my charge alone.” Arthur strode up to the bed and leaned over to whisper something in the comatose brunet’s ear. Lucius was unable to hear any of it, so he sent a patronus to Amelia Bones, asking for verification of Weasley’s claims.
A cheetah patronus returned an hour later with Bones’ reply. “There are no records of a power of attorney in the archives; not under Harry Potter nor under Arthur Weasley. I will be there shortly to get to the bottom of this.” Not more than ten minutes later Amelia sailed into Harry’s hospital room, hand thrust out to summon the legal document from Weasley before he could stow it away in a protected pocket. She scanned it then looked at the redhead with burning eyes. “What, pray tell, were Cornelius and Dolores going to get out of this deal?” she hissed menacingly.
“N-nothing,” Arthur stammered. “I-it was witnessed by Fudge an-and by U-Umbridge. It’s a legal document.”
“It would be, if the signature at the bottom was actually Harry Potter’s. I have his will right here, signed and dated November 30, 1994, in which he leaves the bulk of his estate to Hogwarts. In October 1997, it was amended to include Andromeda and Teddy Tonks. Nowhere does it state that the Weasleys have power over him, or receive anything from him upon his death. In matching the signature of the updated will to this document, it’s clear that Harry Malfoy’s signature was forged. Dawlish,” Bones snapped, calling an Auror into the room, “take Weasley into custody and ensure that both Dolores Umbridge and Cornelius Fudge are also arrested for falsifying documents with the intent to steal from the Lord of two most noble and ancient houses.”
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“I’ve been made executrix of Harry’s estate,” Hermione said with a smug air about her. “I get to decide how the inheritances are handled, and I think that the first item of business is to make sure that the Weasleys are compensated for the years in which Harry stayed at their house and the years in which Harry had placed their children in danger.”
“Excuse me, Miss Granger,” McGonagall interrupted gently, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I would like you to accompany me to my office to discuss your assertions.”
“They’re not assertions,” Granger said snottily as she rose and followed the transfiguration professor out of the Great Hall. “They’re facts. I just received the confirmation letter from Gringotts telling me that I was made executrix over Harry’s estate.” Minerva remained silent as she led the muggleborn to her office. Once inside, she cast privacy wards around the room and bade the bushy haired teen to sit. Hermione thrust the notice at the deputy headmistress impatiently, a condescending smirk on her face.
Minerva’s eyes scanned the missive curiously, noting that the letter was on plain parchment with no letterhead. It was signed by a goblin named Wrathtongue and Minnie stood and stepped over to her fireplace, tossing floo powder into the flames. Once they turned green, she stuck her head in and called out the address. “Wrathtongue’s office, Gringotts.” Hermione watched all of this with growing trepidation, unsure about at what the deputy headmistress was playing. Moments later, Wrathtongue answered the call, bushy eyebrows high on his forehead in surprise.
“Professor Minerva McGonagall,” he grumbled lowly, a feral grin on his face. “It has been much too long since we last shared a meal.”
“Yes, it has, old friend,” she replied with a smile. “If you would care to come through, there’s something important about which I have need to speak to you.” Nodding, he closed down his side of the floo for a moment, before the flames flared emerald again and he rolled out of the fireplace. He stood and dusted himself off, causing the transfiguration professor to sneeze several times in a row as ash flew up her nose.
“I apologize, Minnie,” the gruff being said, looking contrite-well, as contrite as a goblin can look. “I keep forgetting that you’re allergic to wood ash.”
“It’s fine, Wrathie,” she replied with a smirk, laughing outright at the pout on the goblin’s face. He detested the nickname, but could not disabuse the woman from using it whenever she felt playful and kittenish. “Now, this is Hermione Granger and she claims that Harry Potter-Malfoy made her executrix of his will. Would you be able to shed some light on this, as the letter sent to her has your alleged signature.” She handed Wrathtongue the note, watching with hidden glee as the goblin’s ire went through the roof.
“Who dares to forge a goblin signature?” he hissed, looking at the now terrified girl. “Who did you pay to forge my signature?”
“N-no one,” she squeaked, trembling alarmingly in fear.
“Someone has forged my signature and I want to know who.”
“B-Bill W-Weasley,” the shivering girl whispered. “Arthur asked him to create a document that would give us control over Harry’s vaults and properties, since his power of attorney was found to be forged, as well.”
“Why do you believe that any of you are entitled to Lord Potter-Malfoy’s estate?” the goblin barked, making Hermione jump and scream shrilly.
“W-we’ve been by his s-side from the beginning,” she said, losing her nervousness as she continued. “We’ve been exposed to countless dangers because of him, and some of us had almost died. We felt it was the least he could offer for nearly getting us killed.”
“Is this true, Minnie?” Wrathtongue asked the deputy headmistress. “Did Lord Potter-Malfoy deliberately expose others to danger and death?”
“In a broad sense, Harry has exposed the entire wizarding world to danger simply by existing. Because Albus put as much stock in that ridiculous prophecy as He Who Must Not Be Named, Harry’s survival of the killing curse made him tangentially responsible for the danger. Ninety-nine point nine nine nine nine nine percent of the responsibility lies with You Know Who and Albus equally for creating the environment in which the danger was ever-present. Harry faced the challenges thrown at him alone when he could; Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger forced themselves upon him and were responsible for their own peril.
“Ginevra Weasley was given a cursed diary in her first year here, and stupidly wrote in it, becoming possessed by the spirit within it and doing the wraith’s bidding. Harry was the only reason she survived the encounter relatively intact, and he nearly died rescuing her. Harry told everyone to stay at Hogwarts in fifth year; that he would be the one to face Voldemort and save his godfather. Unfortunately, as it typically happened, his so-called friends butted their noses into his business and he just couldn’t shake them. Ron ended up injured, Hermione was injured, Neville was injured, and Harry lost Sirius Black that night.
“None of us knew what was going on in the school every time Harry ended up in the infirmary; we only knew that Albus had everything under control. At least, that’s what he told us. I think the only adult to truly protect and watch over that boy was Severus Snape, and he was murdered for his troubles.”
“Why did you lie, little girl?” the goblin growled lowly, glaring at Granger with open hostility.
“I-I didn’t l-lie,” she stuttered, once again fearing for her safety. “H-Harry did put us in d-danger.”
“Lord Potter-Malfoy took on the responsibility of securing the safety of the wizarding world alone, as it was written. You lot decided, all on your own, to butt in where you weren’t wanted or needed. And then you turn around and slaughter his Slytherin friends and his bonded mate whilst the old man that runs this shiteshow executed the boy’s father figure. You deserve nothing, and you will get nothing,” Wrathtongue snarled, teeth bared. “The Wizengamot will be notified of your attempts to steal from Lord Potter-Malfoy, and until Minerva McGonagall, the true executrix of Lord Potter-Malfoy’s estate, decides what to do, his vaults and properties will be on immediate lock-down.”
“W-we didn’t,” Granger began, but was instantly silenced with the goblin’s next words.
“We have received memories of the final battle from several witnesses to your crimes, to be placed within our records vault until such time as they will be needed for your prosecution,” he hissed. “Do not attempt to lie to me; we have all the proof we need of yours and your friends’ betrayals.”