Chapter Text
Harry wakes up with the sunlight hitting his eyelids. When he opens his eyes, he knows better than doing so without covering them with an arm first, for the July sun is blinding, even in the morning. He casts a quick Tempus: 11:09 am. He groans and turns around, face buried in the pillow as he tries to summon the courage to crawl out of bed. It's his birthday, but he has nothing planned until the evening. Still, he doesn't think it's wise – or productive - to spend the whole day in bed.
Reluctantly, he leaves the bed and goes to the bathroom to take a quick shower. He's starving for some breakfast, but apparently his co*ck doesn't care for that and is feeling rather needy this morning, so Harry wraps one hand around it and strokes it, slowly at first, twisting at the tip, then increasing the speed as it gets better and better. He has the other hand on the cold tiles, for better support. He drops his head and his green eyes focus on his hard co*ck being stroked. He bites his lip and grunts as he c*ms, his muscles tensing for a second, then relaxing as the org*sm washes over him. The evidence is quickly gone down the drain as the cold water keeps pouring from the showerhead.
He sighs and stands there for a minute or so, thinking of absolutely nothing. Then he finishes his shower in a snap and puts on some clothes, rushing downstairs barefoot. Once in the kitchen, he opens the window above the sink and gets started on his breakfast. He's flipping the omelette when he hears a noise coming from behind him. He stares over his shoulder.
“Achilles.” Harry says, smiling at his owl. He grabs a bit of bacon from his plate and approaches the majestic grey owl. He notices the letter the owl has brought him. “What do you have there, little one?”
Before untying the letter, he offers the bacon to Achilles, who gladly nibbles it. Once he's done eating, he brushes his head against Harry's hand, tenderly showing affection. Harry smiles and strokes his head, before getting the letter from the bird's ankle. He arches an eyebrow as he recognises the Gringotts seal, curious and confused at once. He doesn't waste any more time and opens it, carefully reading it.
Dear Mr. Potter,
It is our duty to inform you that, as of today, you have one year left to claim ownership of the following vaults:
Potter Family Vault, Potter Wizengamot Seat
Black Family Vault, Black Wizengamot Seat
When the mentioned deadline expires, it will become the property of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The requirements and conditions stated in the first letter still apply, and are as follows:
a) Marriage
b) Be no older than 21 years old
However, if there is an heir who meets these requirements and wishes to claim ownership, then their claim takes precedence over the current heir.
As stated in the first letter, the list of heirs to each of the assets is as follows:
Potter Vault – Harry James Potter.
Black Vault – Harry James Potter; Draco Lucius Malfoy.
Should the other heir make a claim, you will be informed of it, by letter. You will not be able to reclaim the assets, should this come to happen.
If you, at any point during the remaining year meet the requirements, Gringotts Wizarding Bank will be automatically notified and provided with a marriage certificate. You will then receive a letter stating your official status as an owner of the assets.
Cordially,
Ragnok
Head of the Inheritance Department
By the time Harry reaches the end of the letter, the hand holding it is shaking and his eyes wide, unblinking, such is the surprise. All that is written in the letter is completely unknown to him. Or was, anyway. What Black and Potter vaults? Doesn't he own that already? Wizengamot seats? He knows that older families have those, but he has never even thought about it in such a way. And Draco Malfoy? Out of everything, that is the only thing that makes sense. Harry knows very well that Draco's mother is part of the house of Black, which makes him, of course, an heir.
I need to talk with Hermione, he thinks, his breakfast long gone. He's meeting her and Ron later tonight at the Burrow, but this can't wait, as it's a time-sensitive matter, apparently. He goes to his living room and throws floo powder into his fireplace, sticking his head in the fire and calling for Hermione.
I hope either she or Ron are home now, he thinks while he waits. He finally sees Hermione approaching.
“Harry! Happy Birthday!” She says with a smile, which quickly morphs into a confused frown. “Is everything all right?”
“Thanks. Er... Can I come through? And I'm not sure, but if I had to wager I'd say that no, not everything is all right.”
She bites her lip, worried, and steps back, giving him space to come through. When he lands, she has her arms folded against her chest.
“Well?” She asks, and it's clear she's curious, impatient to know what's got Harry in such a state.
“I've just received a letter from Gringotts and I've got no idea of what's going on.” Harry shows Hermione the letter, which she takes in her hand, quickly scanning the contents. The hand that is not holding the piece of paper comes up to her mouth. Harry can tell she's just as surprised as he'd been.
“They mention a first letter, so let's start there. Where is it?” She asks, the gears already turning in her head.
“Yes, where is it?” Harry says, throwing his hands in the air. “I've never received that so-called first letter. Do you think it'd be something I should've received on my seventeenth birthday?”
She stares at him for a while and then nods.
“Yes, I suppose. You turn twenty today, and this one came on your birthday. So I suppose the first one should've come on your seventeenth birthday, eighteenth at the latest.” She shakes his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “We were at the Burrow the day you turned seventeen, no letter came.”
“Do you think it might have been intercepted?” Harry asks and his eyes darken as he thinks about that time. “Things were different back then.”
“It's a possibility. I think we should go to Gringotts and ask them about these vaults. How they differ from the ones you possess already. And the Wizengamot seats... This is huge, Harry.”
Harry takes a deep breath.
“So much for a normal birthday.”
“I guess you should've known. Nothing is ever simple when it comes to you.” She says without malice, hugging him. “Shall we go now? We could have lunch after?”
“That would be great since I skipped breakfast. And I'm not hungry yet, I've completely lost my appetite, but I'm sure I'll be starving after we get to the bottom of this.” Harry scratches his faded scar. “Where's Ron?”
“Ron is at the shop with George, we could go meet them and then have lunch.” Hermione suggests, grabbing her keys. “Shall we go?”
Their trip to Gringotts is a short affair, but an insightful one, nevertheless. For one, they show up unannounced, so it's no surprise when a goblin asks them if they have an appointment. While not surprising, it's frustrating. Harry doesn't feel like arguing, so he's about to ask when they can set this appointment for when Hermione intervenes, saying it's an urgent matter involving the Potter and Black vaults. The goblin seems suspicious at first, but Harry shows him the letter and not five minutes later they find themselves speaking with Ragnok himself, who's just as surprised as they are by the fact that Harry didn't get the first letter.
“Those were difficult times. It is... regrettable that you did not get the first letter, Mr. Potter. However, the requirements still stand.”
“What are these vaults? I thought I already had ownership of the Potter and Black vaults?” Harry asks, hoping this simple question has a simple answer to go with it.
“There are more than one. The Potter vault you currently possess ownership of is the one Mr. and Mrs. Potter set for you when you were born. The Black vault is Mr. Black's vault, the one to which he added you as an owner while he was still alive. The remaining vaults are the Black family vault and the Potter family vault. Both vaults have... hefty sums in them.”
Harry remains quiet for a while, processing this information. It is simple enough. As simple as it can get under the current circ*mstances.
“I see. I was unaware of this. Thank you for your time, Ragnok.” Harry says, standing. Before he leaves, he hears Ragnok speak behind his desk.
“Time is running out, Mr. Potter. We are waiting for a wedding certificate. Have a good day.”
Harry looks over his shoulder, jaw clenched, and nods, before opening the door and letting himself out. He finds Hermione waiting for him on the ground floor, where they parted before he was taken to Ragnok's office.
“So? How was it?” Hermione asks, looking rather apprehensive.
“They're family vaults, apparently. I own Sirius's vault because he added me as an owner while he was still here and the other one has always been mine, from what I gathered.”
She's thoughtful for a second.
“And the wedding? Is it really a thing?”
“Have you ever known goblins to do things any differently?”
“Not really, no.” Hermione shakes her head. “I guess there's no going around this. One just doesn't try to cheat a goblin.”
“Correct.” Harry sighs. “I still have time, I don't want to think about this anymore today. Let's go meet the guys for lunch, yeah?”
Hermione bites the inside of her cheek, thinking about telling her best friend that no, he doesn't have time, but it's his birthday. Surely this can wait for tomorrow.
“Yes. Let's go.” She says and her eyes catch a glimpse of a store as they walk down Diagon Alley towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The Elixirium is the name of a potions shop that opened after the war. Hermione knows the owner to be quite a knowledgeable man and, as far as she knows, on good terms with her best friend. It's an idea she saves for later when Harry decides it's time to do something about his future.
