Sympathetic Properties Chapter 20: Money Matters, a harry potter fanficAN: My chapters are more for convenience than structure, and this one's no different. I had been thinking that this would probably be a week late or more simply because I couldn't find a stopping point and didn't want to split things up. But, like with that organic moment at the end of chapter 16, one came up that provided a way out.Special thanks to Caelleh for his help with the new summary; I think it works much better..o0O0o.If the morning air was cool and crisp, that was nothing to what it was like at a hundred miles an hour. The cold wind in his face, Draco dodged and weaved through the trees, rolled over limbs, and dived to race along the gully that ran through the forest as fast as he could. Straight ahead stood an ancient yew tree gnarled, wide, and foreboding. With a grin he raced straight for it, pushing the broom for even more speed. At the last possible second he swerved and started to climb, rolling on his broom as he dashed through the leaves and broke through the canopy into the bright morning light.Blinking at the sudden change, Draco slowed and came to a halt, hovering a good hundred feet in the air as he turned to take in his home. The gently rolling hills of Wiltshire spread out before him, showing but a small part of what would someday be his; it was a testament to the greatness of his bloodline. For nearly a thousand years the Malfoys had owned this land, only the greatest of them truly making the land their own.The well-manicured lawns were rich and green, useful for annual gatherings of the who's who of wizarding society: ranking members of the Old Families, Ministry officials, foreign dignitaries, and wealthy businessmen seeking the influence his father had. This was his father's vision; him and his mother's. Everything from the mansion of a manor house with its gardens and white peacocks to the gazebo by the lake, even the little boathouse with its tiny ships shaped like swans, all of it was new, built within his lifetime or shortly before, though they liked to claim that it was older.While growing up his mother had told him that this was what the entire world would be like once the purebloods took their proper place and ruled free of muggle filth, but now he saw it for what it was, a waste. It was nothing more than useless frills to impress people they shouldn't even be bothering with. What did it matter what the morons in the Ministry thought? The only thing that mattered was what the Malfoys told them to think. Anyone who defied them deserved to be punished painfully, personally, and publicly. That would teach the rest to fall in line.And what did they need a Ministry for anyway? Such a stupid way to run things; it should just be one person giving commands and having them be obeyed like it was under the Dark Lord. They didn't need clumsy clerks and bumbling bureaucrats, they needed soldiers, ones just smart enough to do what they were told but not smart enough to think for themselves like Crabbe and Goyle. That was the one thing muggles had actually done right in their world, from what he'd been told. One man raised above others as a king, in some places revered as a god, with the power of life and death over everyone, their very word being law. That's what they should have; that's what he should have.As the sunlight warmed the chill from his body Draco couldn't keep his smirk from growing, not that he cared to. He would have it all one day; it was what he was born for. With the whole of wizarding Britain in his grip, the Dark Lord was soon to look to the continent to expand his power. That would require someone to remain behind to keep order at home. That was to be the Malfoys. They had the bloodlines, the power, and the inheritances to put themselves forward as the new ruling power in Britain. It was to be their reward for their steadfast dedication and loyalty to the cause.With the Dark Lord dead and gone all of that had fallen away, but the confusion that followed had let many of his supporters slip away unnoticed, at least according to his mother. The ones that could lie well enough and had the means wriggled free, like his father, while others sold out supporters they knew to save themselves or went overseas, while still others slunk back into a life of crime. The Dark Lord had taken all kinds, even werewolves; the subhuman monsters deserved to be hunted down like the dogs they were once they no longer had a use.But all of them would be back, he knew, once another man stepped forward with the guts to do what it took to put the mudbloods in their place and put fear back into the rest of the population. For a time, some like his mother had thought that would be Potter. The Perfect Poncy Prince Potter; how could anyone think that he'd be the new Dark Lord? Draco had known he'd never measure up the moment he'd seen him on the train, but he still lowered himself to extend his hand because that's what his parents had wanted only then to be passed over for a Mudblood, a Blood Traitor, and an oafish wild man who lived in a hut and smelled like wet dog.'"Only a more powerful Dark Lord could defeat the Dark Lord,'" he mentally mocked in his mother's voice. '"The Dark Lord will want him as one of ours when he returns from Beyond the Grave" indeed,' Draco rolled his eyes.His mother was an idiot and his father was a fool. Make friends with Potter, they said; get in good with Potter, they said. Show him the right people to know, steer him down the proper path, and get him involved with a proper Pureblood girl. How was he supposed to do all that when he showed up wearing baggy muggle clothes like some house-elf and didn't know anything about anything and then chose to spit on his offer to look past all that?Draco had only done what his father would've done if he couldn't be made into an ally that could be stabbed in the back later on he'd marked him as a Blood Traitor to be crushed under his shoe. He had no call to be mad at him for that, none! It's what he'd been trained to do. If Potter had spit in his father's face he wouldn't have turned around and offered to kiss the boy's arse; that's not what Malfoys do.Malfoys get even; they find out what you're doing and tell it to those that'll get you in trouble. They drag you down into the dirt and bury you; that's all he'd been doing. It wasn't his fault that McGonagall and Dumbledore thought Potter's shite smelled like roses and tasted like chocolate, but his father didn't want to hear it. Somehow he'd learned about that spat with Potter last year and blamed him for making it so public saying, "changes were going to have to be made."'Changes were not going to be made,' Draco thought as he scanned the grounds for somewhere new to fly. 'Father has no right to treat me like this. I was born for this, I was born to rule. The only failure here were his and Potter's for not doing what they were told.'He'd get his mother to agree with him, Draco thought as he decided that there was nothing worth flying over, or at least nothing new. He had wanted a full Quidditch stadium put in so he could play properly but his father had refused to "erect an eye-sore" on his perfect estate. He'd also just went back on his promise to buy him his new broom. They would just have to see about that.The Comet 260 he had was nothing. It was almost three years old already, that's ancient, and as much as it galled him, Weasley was right about them. They looked flashy, which was why he'd wanted it, but they really were no match for the Nimbus series. And then Potter showed up with his gift-wrapped Nimbus 2000 and was anointed the Youngest Seeker in a Century and praised for luck they took as skill. It was ridiculous.If his father refused to help then his mother should be able to do something about all that. She was the last of the Black family that wasn't in prison for following the Dark Lord and there was an entire fortune out there just waiting for Draco to inherit it when he came of age. He didn't need his father; his mother should be able to access that, then he'd get his broom. He'd get his broom, get his way onto the team even if he had to buy his way on, and he'd show Potter what a proper Pureblood could do in the sky.With the Heir causing trouble at Hogwarts, one thing was certain: this was going to be Draco's year. He'd kick the legs out from under Potter by crushing him at Quidditch, he'd find the Heir, and partner with him so that he could do what he should've been able to do last year with Scarhead: play along as the stalwart ally until he knew all the Heir's secrets and then stab him in the back and take over. Oh yes, this was going to be his year.With one last look at the tiny buildings by the lake, Draco wished he knew the really good spells already the ones that'd cause fires or make things explode because he'd really like nothing better to blast that gazebo apart and set fire to those stupid swans. Pansy liked the boats though, the few times he'd let her visit, and he liked how she hung all over him, so he supposed they had some use.With a growing rumble in his stomach, he wondered if there was any food in the house, or even if there was anyone who knew how to make any. How could his father have sold off their servant? He'd better not expect his mother to do any work or Draco suspected he'd soon find himself being the last of his line, which would solve all of Draco's troubles, of course. With a smirk, he thought about getting Pansy to do all that cooking and cleaning for them, she was always very thankful to them for "everything they'd done for her," the idiot.There had to be a kitchen in that house somewhere, and with that in mind Draco set off back to the manor. By the time he'd gotten home he'd decided: once his father was dead he was tearing the whole place down, building a castle, and buying a whole herd of house-elves..o0O0o.Regardless of what he'd thought of using the floo, Harry found himself eating. The bit of toast was supposed to settle his stomach but he didn't think it helped that much. It gave him something to do as the minutes dragged by though and it was easier to concentrate on taking a bite, chewing, and looking at his watch again than to pay attention to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's pre-going-to-work conversation. He didn't want to be late, but showing up early felt like a bad thing to do too.Harry found it very hard to focus on anything but the slow passage of time. If the guys had been awake and here to distract him it might not have been so bad but then again, it might've been so much worse. Fred and George would probably go on and on about the date with Hermione was that the right word? She had kissed his cheek that he'd probably be so nervous that he'd get sick.He hadn't felt this way since his first Quidditch game last year, but at least then he had had practices to prepare him for it. 'Was that what this was,' Harry wondered, 'just a practice for the real thing?' That actually helped settle his stomach a bit so he could pry his attention away from the time; it hadn't seemed to change for half an hour."That's up to Harry, of course, but it's not like this is permanent," Arthur said to his wife, drawing Harry into the conversation."Sorry, what's that?" he asked, looking to Mrs. Weasley, who was back at home in her kitchen. Once she had made sure that his head was okay and he had suitably recovered from the fall, she had managed to distract Dobby by sending him out to clean all of Arthur's "muggle artifacts" in the garage, leaving her free to cook them breakfast."We were just wondering what you were doing with Dobby this year once school starts back, that was all," Mrs. Weasley said with a wave. "Any more toast, dear?" she asked.For a moment Harry was unsure if it was him or her husband that she was talking to. Her habit of calling everyone dear was kind of confusing. Looking over at Arthur, who had his napkin on his plate signaling he was through with his meal, told Harry she was talking to him."Er no, that's alright," he said, wiping his fingers on a pair of Ron's old jeans Mrs. Weasley had let him use. "It depends on what Dobby wants, I guess," Harry said, answering their question about the elf. "I said he could go to Hogwarts with me, but I'm not sure how much work there will be for him to do there. He's free to come here for more work whenever he wants though.""Well, if he's only here part of the time, that won't be so bad, will it?" Arthur said merrily. "Molly's afraid that she won't have anything to do," Mr. Weasley explained, "but I say she's due for a good break.""I wouldn't know what to do with myself with a break," Molly said, gathering up the dishes with a wave of her wand and immediately starting to wash them. "It's been non-stop work almost since the day we got married. I might just go mad tottering around this place by myself with nothing to do.""There's always finding something to do outside of the home," her husband suggested tentatively.Tentatively or not, Molly still dropped the dishes in the sink with a crash, her eyes popping at the suggestion. "I can't work, I have children," she protested with an astonished look on her face."Children who are all school age or older," Arthur gently reminded her.Harry felt rather uncomfortable being stuck in the middle of such an adult conversation. He doubted they'd even have it if their own children were there but supposed his status as an outsider and tenant put him in a different category to them. Harry tried to pretend he couldn't hear them; he didn't want to interrupt."They still need their mother," she muttered, going back to work."And they'll always need their mother," Arthur agreed diplomatically. "But we'll really only see them at Christmases and summers from now on," he gently pushed. "Didn't you say that Glinda Goodwitch was retiring?" her husband asked curiously.Eyes ping-ponging back to Mrs. Weasley, Harry saw her next objection stopped by the sudden change of topic."Yes," she finally said a bit cautiously as if feeling out a trap. "I for one am sorry to see her go.""Who's Glinda Goodwitch?" Harry asked, unable to keep his curiosity under wraps."Oh, she's this darling woman with a column in the Prophet," she said with a wave as a tap-tap came from the window behind him. Harry turned to see a rather fluffy owl sitting on the sill. "Speaking of, could you get that, dear?" she said, gesturing at Arthur this time."She was ever so helpful when we were starting out," she said as her husband went to check the mail. "Advice for this and that, tricky solutions for problem pests, household stuff and childrearing mostly not like we'll need it now that we've got Lockhart's books.""I wouldn't be too sure about that," Arthur said, taking a look at the paper. "Look at this," he prompted, handing it over to her."That's a horrible headline," she said critically, "that doesn't look like he's being liked at all. Oh! That's Lichfield Now the headline's even worse. You don't say his name like that.""Don't look at the headline, look at the article," her exasperated husband said. "It said that he couldn't answer the most basic questions and refused to do even the simplest spells. How could he wrestle a Yeti into submission if he gets stopped by his own pinky?""Yes, well, Lichfield was an auror, wasn't he?" she asked somewhat defensively."I still wouldn't bet on him wrestling against a""Lichfield was an auror?" Harry asked, curious about what the dark wizard catchers really did."That was the rumor that was going around years ago," Molly said with a wave, still studying the paper, "but I don't know if it's true. Why was he beating up on Lockhart anyway?" she asked him in return."He wanted to use me to make the front page and got all grabby," Harry said, somewhat annoyed at the thought."Well he certainly accomplished that," Molly said peering at the picture. "Oh look, there you are too. Don't you look handsome?""You know, I bet the Prophet's looking for someone to take over for Glenda," Mr. Weasley said, coming to his rescue."Good luck finding them," she said, handing the paper back to him and moving to put the dishes away. "That woman knew everything.""Well, she certainly seemed to," he said judiciously. "Whoever they get will need a lot of homemaking experience, and you can't fake that. But when you think of it," he softly pushed again, "answering two letters a column three times a week is hardly what you call work, and she probably had a hundred letters a day to choose from. That's the kind of thing she could do from home and still look after the house if she needed.""That's true," Molly said thoughtfully before her head whipped around to her husband. "You can't be serious," she said with a look that said the entire idea was ludicrous. "Me, a Glenda Goodwitch?""Well I'm sure they'd give you a different name, and it's not like we couldn't use the money," Arthur said hurriedly, glancing at his watch. "Merlin, look at the time. I'm going to be late.""Arthur, I'm really not sure about this," she said as she followed her retreating husband out of the back door.A small pop! signaled the end of the conversation though as Mr. Weasley disappeared. With a smile Harry wondered who would win when he got back. With a spike of fear, Harry looked at the time. It was already five after! Where had all the time gone? Bolting to the fireplace, he took a pinch of powder from the flowerpot and threw it into the flames causing them to turn green and flare towards the ceiling."Have a good day, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a wave as she came back inside.Before Harry could even open his mouth to say thanks he heard a series of sharp trumpet blasts from outside, followed quickly by a loud, metallically rending CRASH!"What in Merlin's!" Molly asked as she spun back to the doorway.The green flames died away as Harry darted to the window to see what was going on. To his surprise he saw a tiny blue car zooming around the yard, slightly scuffed from where it tore a hole in the Weasleys' metal garage. As he watched, the car threw open its doors and started zig-zagging as if it were trying to throw something out. As it zipped past the window and footfalls were heard on the stairs, Harry heard a panicked little scream from the car that could only be Dobby.As they dashed out into the yard to save the house-elf Harry just had to wonder, if he was this unlucky when it came to practices, how bad were actual dates going to be? He didn't know how he was going to make it up to Hermione because was going to be so late..o0O0o.With a whoosh! the flames turned a vibrant kelly green and Hermione reflexively stiffened in her seat, only to relax again as a witch stepped out of the fireplace. At least she was no longer jumping up every time someone appeared like that. She had done it so often that the barman had come over to kid her about there being something wrong with his chair.In the end the gap-toothed Tom had brought over a bowl of some surprisingly tasty oatmeal and a copy of the paper in an effort to keep her from scaring off his customers, though that was an obvious joke. She hadn't expected the owner of a place as dingy as the Leaky Cauldron to be so nice, but on the whole the entire establishment was very clean in spite of the optics. She supposed the dark atmosphere was more a product of dark wood, darker stains, a bad paint palette, and a severe lack of light than anything else.The ash dust didn't help either, but that was mostly confined to where the new arrivals stood when they dusted themselves off. They always did so in the same spot, curiously enough; always the same spot roughly three feet from where they came out of the flames. Hermione wondered if that was something they were taught in order to avoid collisions or just something that had developed naturally.In a way she wished she had stayed to see Harry leave, but in another she was glad she hadn't. What do you say to someone after you kiss them? It was much easier just to run away. Now though, she didn't have a clue about why he was late. Did he get lost and come out of the wrong fireplace, or did he just oversleep? She didn't want to think about what the other alternative could be; it was much more cheerful to think that he'd been kidnapped than to think he didn't want to come, which she found particularly strange.Did she mess everything up by what she did yesterday? Harry had always seemed more well, reserved when it came to any sign of affection, physical or otherwise, but he hadn't seemed to mind the fact that she'd done it at the time. If anything, it was how he had relaxed when she'd hugged him while they were being held for questioning that had given her the confidence to do what she'd done afterwards.She'd hate to think she had ruined everything by pushing him into something he was uncomfortable with. After she had forgiven her father for pranking her with that quill, and had told him more about Harry and his upbringing, he'd done his "official parental responsibility" by giving her a refresher course on the cycle of abuse and what that did to people. Even though what he'd said about the common behaviors of victims didn't seem to apply to him despite being a victim of further bullying and running away from home, though his desire to please and his dislike of his fame being a reflection of low self-esteem could fit, she supposed none of the warning signs that he'd continue the cycle were there at all.Could there be some other sort of psychological issue at play that'd make him stay away? With a twist in the pit of her stomach, she felt more than saw Harry curled up in his room petrified and panicking at the thought of getting close to someone only to lose them like he'd lost his parents. It was enough to make her want to rush off to find him, but could you use the fireplace when you didn't know where you were going? Ron's dad had called his place 'the Burrow,' but was that enough for her to get there to make sure he was alright?Hermione took a breath and tried to calm herself; she was just worrying, there was no call to rush off just yet. Odds are that Harry had simply misremembered the time or overslept; it certainly wouldn't have been the first time. He and Ron had been late to their very first class last year and most weekends she'd had been down in the common room for hours before they'd made their way down for breakfast. It was just a case of boys being boys and failing to plan ahead; she could either harp on it until she drove him mad and he didn't want to see her anymore or she'd just have to get used to it and plan around it.There was a crack! from behind the Leaky Cauldron's closed front door and again Hermione wondered at why these people did what they did. If they could appear anywhere like that, why not Apparate exactly where you wanted to go rather than at the front door and walk in? Was there something that prevented them from doing so besides a residual sense of decorum? Waiting for Harry had certainly turned into an odd anthropological study.She had a bit of trouble at not questioning the sanity of those in the wizarding world when Lichfield was the one to come through the door wearing a purple bathrobe, plaid "comfy pants" as her father called them a white tee shirt, and pink slippers. He waved nonchalantly to Tom before he saw her and stopped in his tracks. Glancing down at his outfit, he looked back at her and grinned before moving to the fireplace, throwing in a pinch of dust, and disappearing in a gout of flame and a shout of "Norwich!"Was there some sort of wizarding dementia or sleepwalking that had them wake up in odd places? Hermione wished she knew where to start looking for that information but they were still just over two weeks away from being back at Hogwarts. She was definitely pursuing Harry's idea for a summer check-out program for the library as soon as they returned, initial joke or no.The question remained though, if there wasn't a benign explanation for what just occurred, should she tell Harry about this? With his independence at stake, they were certainly putting a lot of faith in a man they barely knew, but if she told him it might break what confidence he had that they'd win. She'd ask her dad but even with their new-found openness about the wizarding world she wouldn't put it past him to ignore everything else and try to cram the car into the fireplace to make the journey home easier.With yet another worry to occupy her time Hermione returned to the paper. Though she tried hard to concentrate, the combination of other worries, already knowing how shoddy Lockhart's books were, and knowing why the goblins had mysteriously closed their doors made it difficult to keep her mind occupied. Before long though she found that she no longer had reason to wait.With a nervous wave of nausea she saw the blaze belch out her black-haired and bespectacled best friend. Her nerves disappeared as quickly as they'd come as he gave her an embarrassedly lop-sided chagrined grin that said he knew that he was late as he dusted off the ash of his journey. He used the same spot to do that as the rest of them. How could the person at the root of so many of her anxieties make them all disappear in an instant, even the ones he had nothing to do with?Harry flattened his hair with his hand as he made his way over and Hermione chose to break the ice with the first topic that sprang to mind."You look casual," she said, taking in the jeans and maroon shirt he wore, which were very much at odds with the stylish new wizarding shoes he had."Oh, yeah," he said embarrassedly as he sat across from her. "They're some clothes of Ron's that Mrs. Weasley let me wear. Madam Malkin has been nice enough to charm my robes the last couple times I've been here and I promised to come back and buy some real clothes, so I thought we'd start there," Harry said with a shrug.She nodded. "In spite of what I said last night," Hermione admitted, "it's kind of strange to see you in normal clothes.""It feels kind of odd too," he said, picking at his shirt. "I guess you can get used to anything. I'm sorry I was late, by the way," Harry said quickly. "It's been a rather bad day for Dobby.""He's not dying, is he?" she asked hurriedly."Not from lack of trying," he said dryly. "First he fell like thirty feet to land on Ginny and then the Weasleys' enchanted car took him for a spin and tried to kill him," Harry explained. "The car got banged up pretty bad, but Dobby seemed fine. I didn't know if telling him to go easy or giving him something else to do would be better for him, so I just told him that he should leave anything magical alone from now on.""Are either of you going to get into trouble for wrecking the car like that?" she asked as Tom placed a plate of fish and chips and a drink in front of Harry that she hadn't seen him order before departing with a wink. Come to think of it, she hadn't ordered her meal either.Harry shook his head as he absentmindedly popped a chip in his mouth and ate. "Molly seemed rather relieved, actually," he said as if he couldn't believe it himself. "I guess she thinks having something to fiddle around with will keep Arthur from getting anything new. He's kind of mad when it comes to muggle things.""Arthur and Molly?" she asked with a smile."Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Harry explained with a shrug. "She told me to call her Molly once, but they're Ron's parents and I'm living there, but they don't treat me like I'm one of their kids more like a really young friend. It's kind of an odd thing to describe.""Well, relationships can be rather elastic," Hermione said for more than one reason. "There's no need to rush off and define things right away. Take my dad," she explained, "sometimes he's the parent that has to weigh in with fatherly guidance, sometimes he's a friend to tell my problems to, and sometimes he's the annoying little brother," she finished exasperatingly."I can see how that could make things complicated," he said with a peculiar look. "I've just never had that kind of thing happen before.""I'd suggest you just go with it and let things develop on their own before you label them," she said. "Who knows what the relationship with them could become in time. They might become parental figures or just really good adult friends you can talk to about things Ron or I might not be able to relate to.""I doubt there's anything you wouldn't be able to relate to," Harry said, taking a drink."I just mean that you shouldn't turn down the possibility for more friends simply because you don't have a pre-established role to put them in.""I guess you're right," he said finally. "It'd just feel weird to say it to her face, you know? It'd be like calling Professor McGonagall whatever her first name is.""Minerva," Hermione added before halting with an odd look on her face. "You're right, that doesn't feel right at all."Harry chuckled and continued to eat."Thanks for ordering this, by the way. I didn't trust my stomach before the floo but I didn't realize how hungry I really was. You hungry?" he asked, offering to share."No, I already ate. And I didn't order it; Tom, the barman, just brought it over. I didn't order mine either I wonder if we owe him anything," she said, looking over to the man in question who wandering around cleaning off the now-vacant tables with little waves of his wand."Oh, er I should have enough to cover it, but with everything that happened yesterday I forgot to get more money out of the bank. But if there's one thing the goblins have taught me it's that you never know when you're getting your next meal," he grinned."Don't worry about it," the wandering Tom said with a wave as he passed close. "Watchin' your friend here's been entertaining me all morning," he said with an 'I-got-you' face at her to rival her dad's. "Jump-jump-jump-jump," he smiled, twitching his finger up-and-down at her rapidly.Tom wandered away again, leaving her horribly embarrassed and wishing she had a book to bury her face in. Thankfully, Harry occupied himself with his food while she recovered her dignity."You never said why Dobby fell on Ginny," Hermione said once she thought she'd recovered enough.Harry swallowed. "I'm not sure," he said lowering his voice as he went on. "We were talking about whatever it is that the Malfoys are plotting. Dobby still couldn't say much; the only thing I know is that it has nothing to do with Voldemort"Hermione felt a sudden sense of doom at that, before reminding herself that it was pointless to fear a name. No one freaked out and fell on the floor over Stalin or Pol Pot. Doing the same over who you meant when you said 'You-Know-Who' was just a silly learned response it'd be best to unlearn.He finished his last chip before continuing. "Anyway, I asked if there was anything he could do to stop it and he disappeared only the next thing I hear is him falling, so I rushed downstairs to find him on the floor and Ginny just getting back to her feet.""But what happened?" she asked confused."I don't know," he said with a shrug. "I thought that perhaps he can't go back to the Malfoy's since I, er kind of own him now. He said something about it feeling the same as it did there. But then again, Ginny was sitting on top of something called a wardstone, which Mrs. Weasley said is supposed to be really magical.""And really rare," Hermione said."You've heard of them?""Of course, they're mentioned in Hogwarts, a History. They're one of the main reasons the school is said to be one of the safest places in Britain the school is surrounded by them, more than any other place in the country. The entire area is protected by them.""But what do they do?" he asked, suddenly curious."I don't know," Hermione said, sharing his curious excitement. "But they're one reason I'm looking forward to taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy next year Well, the year after this upcoming one," she clarified. "If we're interested in something, I don't see why we should have to wait until Third Year to begin learning.""From what I saw at the Weasley's, what you can do with them looks really interesting," he said with a gleam in his eye. "They've got this clock that tracks every member of the family at the same time, and that has to be how racing brooms are made.""Maybe that's why he couldn't find out what the Malfoys were up to," she said quickly, mind whirling to make connections between things."Wait what?" Harry asked confused. "You mean the clock, or the wardstone?""It could be both. If it's old and rare, I could see the Malfoys having a wardstone, even if it's just to brag about it. And even if they don't, perhaps the sheer amount of magic in a magical household prevents Dobby from being able to tell the difference between one house and another. Hm, I wonder if that's the reason house-elves don't want to leave," she said curiously. "Maybe it's the magic in the house not the people that they need to survive.""What are you talking about?" he asked."Oh, sorry," she said chagrinned. "My dad and I were talking about house-elves last night, trying to figure out why they were the way they were. We managed to come up with a bunch of theories to go on but neither of us knows enough to come up with anything definite. And then Mipsy turned up to add her own complications.""You met Mipsy?" Harry asked with a grin."Yes," she smiled, "She said 'Mister Lichy' sent her over because 'she deserves more work than he can give her.' She calls me 'Miss Knee.'""She called me 'Mister Hairy Pots-sir,'" he said, starting to chuckle."How do you grow hair on a pot?" Hermione asked, cheeks coloring."That's what George asked," he smiled. "I said I must be some kind of Chia Pet."She started to giggle. "Is that supposed to be better or worse than a teddy bear with a scar?""I don't think I want to find out," Harry said with a shake of his head. He was still smiling though. "The last thing I need is these people making a line of children's toys about me."Even laughing silently it took some effort to get herself back to a normal color. It felt strange being so relaxed around anyone; a good strange, but still strange. And it just wasn't right to laugh when talking tangentially about slavery."You ready?" she asked, gesturing to the remains of Harry's food. "Tom said that Professor McGonagall has a meeting room rented upstairs starting around noon so I figure we'd better get started.""Right," Harry said, getting to his feet as she stood.She smiled at Tom as they made their way to Diagon Alley proper. Things were going even better than they had yesterday. If the bank didn't kidnap them again, she might even consider this a date..o0O0o."Her entire sense of self-worth seemed wrapped up in how much work she could do," Hermione explained as she walked along beside him. "And she seemed really enthused at the thought of having more to do, but I can't say if that's their normal way of thinking or it's something she picked up somehow because she's never seen another of her own kind.""She's never seen another house-elf?" Harry asked, wondering how that could be."I think so," Hermione admitted as they made their way down the street, "since she said that she didn't know what any other ones were like, but it was difficult to understand exactly what she meant sometimes. She really didn't seem to know anything about her kind at all, but she could've meant that she's never interacted with them on a regular basis. But you can see what I mean about it possibly being cultural; how she thought of herself was very different to what Dobby thought of himself.""You mean how excited he was at being worth more than shoes," he nodded."Exactly," she said, "I'd be interested in seeing else I can find out about them, but anything I do find would probably be unreliable at best."Hermione paused by the door to Madam Malkin's."Did you start here and then go to the bank, or vice versa? With the bank being closed yesterday there might be a line.""As much as I feel out of place in this," he said, picking at shirt again, "I don't know if I have enough money for all the clothes I need. And it shouldn't take long; I'm just going to grab a sack of money and leave as fast as I can.""If I didn't know how frustrated you were with all things Gringotts, I'd think you were bragging," she said, nudging him as they started off again."I swear, if Barchoke or Lichfield mention investments again I think I might scream," Harry said earnestly."If they talk about business at all today, I may just join you," she agreed."I still feel bad about your dad having to spend so much money on your things this year," Harry admitted as they continued. "It's not right.""It's not your fault, Harry," she said from beside him. "While I agree it's excessive, my father made a horribly offensive joke and he's learned his lesson. I'll be doing my own banking from now on.""Still," Harry pressed, "if it wasn't for me, he never would've been in a position to make that joke to begin with, so I should shoulder some of the blame.""You can't hold yourself responsible for his actions," she said with a shake of her head."But I can for Barchoke and Lichfield," he countered. "They're looking after my finances, so that means they work for me and they were there to meet me. If it wasn't for that, you and your dad would've been at a teller and he would've spent a third of what he did. The least I can do is make up the difference."Hermione's eyes popped. "I can't take that much money from you.""Why not?" Harry shrugged. "Better for you to use it for robes and books than for it to just sit there waiting for them to add more to it.""Grangers can pay their own way," she said, her face set stubbornly."It lets me pay you back for that breakfast then," he said, trying to come up with a reason she might accept."That breakfast was free," she said primly. "And if it wasn't, there's no way it would've been that expensive. Besides, you invited me to the meeting with the Hopefuls later, so there's a free lunch to repay the free breakfast.""Well the whole point of your dad meeting Barchoke was to get a better exchange rate," Harry reminded her. "But it turned into five for the galleon, five for the insult, and five to keep doing his banking with them. He's not doing his banking with them anymore and you are, so at least let me reimburse you for that part then.""It's still too much," she said, shaking her head. "While I don't agree to the extent they took it to, it was my father's mistake and my father's lesson to learn.""And I learned my own lesson from it," he told her."What's that?" she asked, looking at him curiously."If you want to keep your sanity, use a teller."In spite of herself, Hermione cracked a grin."Fine," she said, with an exasperated look and a bit of a roll to her eyes that it didn't look like she really meant. "But just this once."Harry smiled.As they got closer to the bank the crowd got thicker, and soon people were standing still. Harry took her hand and guided her along, making use of their small stature to wriggle through areas on the edges to get a better look.The wide steps in front of the bank had been roped off, channeling the crowd into the one break in the line. The steps themselves had changed too, the first three or four being merged together at the same height to form a platform with tellers; in front of that was a broken line of guards in scarlet and gold to keep things orderly. They were wearing something that looked like the heavy duty protective gear that Ron had showed him in Quidditch Through the Ages that the Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood, hated using because he said it slowed them down.No one was at the tellers though; all eyes seemed to be on the short squat woman in a pink cardigan and the suited goblin she was addressing. Harry remembered seeing him at the questioning the day before but had never gotten his name. The one he was more concerned about was the goblin whose name he did know, Gutripper, who was standing by the doors and surveying the scene with his one good eye."I'm afraid that is quite out of the question," the suited goblin said diplomatically, addressing the crowd more than the woman. "The entire senior staff was unanimous in this regard. Due to the ongoing security concern, the bank doors will remain closed to all but Gringotts employees on official business and only deposits, transfers, account creation and the issuance of cheques will be processed until the issue is resolved. Anyone wishing to speak to their Account Manager may do so by appointment. I'm sure you can see how this set up is best for all involved," he ended with a smile that he actually seemed to mean."Hem-hem. Perhaps I did not make myself clear," the squat witch said in a sugary girlish voice that focused attention on her again. "I am Delores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and these conditions will simply not do at all. These people have the right to their vaults""I am well aware who you are, Miss Umbridge, having spent quite a bit of time at the Ministry myself," the suited goblin said, his hospitality seemingly strained for the moment, though his smile never faltered. "And while we at Gringotts understand the underlying feeling behind those words, I must remind you that the vaults belong to Gringotts itself. The access that these good people pay for is a long-term lease and carries with it terms of use that govern that access, in accordance to Ministry banking laws, guidelines, and strictures. I can provide you with a copy of them if you wish.""This is ridiculous," the squat woman said, looking very much like an angry toad, "I demand that you open those doors this instant! The Ministry has the right to know what is going on."With that, Gutripper moved forward and Harry instinctively moved Hermione further back into the doorway behind them. Her hand tightened on his, but whether for comfort or in preparation to pull him away if things turned violent was anyone's guess; probably both. A hand on one suited shoulder stopped the other goblin from responding and had him move aside so that he shared the front part of the platform with the scarred and half-blind Overseer who was clothed in armor like the others, though scuffed and without the colors."You are in no position to demand anything from us," Gutripper said tersely, his red eye seeming to shine as it caught the light. "Our bank, our vaults, our rules. If you continue to cause a disruption then you will be removed.""The Ministry," the toad started again, much less friendly this time around."Has repeatedly acknowledged Gringotts as the sovereign domain of the Goblin People.""That can be changed!" the toad croaked in frustration as she glared up at the Overseers like they were a pair of particularly plump flies hovering maddeningly out of reach."As can Senior Undersecretaries," Gutripper said with a malicious grin, showing a full line of pointed goblin teeth."A threat against me is a threat against the Ministry," the squat woman said, drawing herself up to her full, though diminutive height. "We'll see what the Minister thinks of this.""Good," Gutripper said with a hard look. "And while you're there you can tell him that our representative will see to him shortly. I'll make sure he uses small words and goes slowly since Ministry personnel obviously have difficulties understanding what they are told."With her face an angry shade of red that'd put Uncle Vernon to shame, the toad-faced woman turned and snapped at those around her until they made way for her to get through. She seemed particularly unpleasant."Have a good day, Miss Umbridge!" the suited Overseer said to her retreating back and Harry thought he saw the guards and tellers both standing a bit straighter after the exchange.With one last look around the assembled crowd, Gutripper stalked back into the bank through one slightly open door leaving the other Overseer to handle the crowd. From his reputation, Harry was surprised that the woman was able to waddle away from the encounter, though she had kept herself on the far side of the rope away from them and tried to keep things on an official level even when making her threats, so perhaps she hadn't been in their 'sovereign domain.'"Now," the remaining Overseer said, addressing the crowd once again. "Anyone wishing to create an account should see the teller on the""Why would they keep anyone from going to their vaults," Harry asked Hermione, pitching his voice low so as not to be heard. Something about what that Overseer had said was tugging at the back of his mind but he couldn't remember what it was. He was beginning to think his brain had been stuffed with too much information and now it was starting to leak out again. This didn't bode well for school."It must be about yesterday," she said meaningfully, her voice pitched low as well. "Think about it, the magical world runs on hard currency: gold, silver, and bronze. If there's a question about the value of them""They'd shut the doors and want to get all the money out of circulation as fast as possible so that people don't go nuts and pull all their money out and cause all sorts of havoc," Harry said, catching on."And if they're worried about... an alternative method of procuring one specific denomination," Hermione said, trying very hard not to say 'someone making gold.' "They'd want to stockpile as much of that as they can to see how big the problem could be. Non-magical treasuries have a rough idea about the amount of currency in circulation. If what they have is greater than what there should be""Then they know they have a problem," Harry finished for her.Made up more by spectators drawn in by the possibility of a confrontation than any real need to do their banking, most of the crowd had broken up by then, leaving only a short line on their side of the rope."Follow me," Hermione said, letting go of his hand. It was only when it was gone that he realized how soft her hands were.The goblin on the far right had no one in front of him, even though there were more than enough people waiting in line. Stepping over the rope brought them no added attention from the guards; Harry was sure they were being watched since they had first started to move. The teller in question looked flustered for a moment, perhaps because he looked younger than the others, his hair a solid black rather than a dappled gray or white.After shuffling through some papers for a moment the teller brought up a magnifying glass in front of his face which promptly disappeared, the glass showing exactly what was underneath his skin. They both jumped in alarm, Hermione's hand finding his again."Oh, sorry," the goblin murmured, taking the glass down and spinning it around before peering at them through it again. Harry didn't want to know what it was he was seeing.As they recovered from their shock, the goblin put down the magnifying glass and produced a clipboard, flipping through several pages before finally stopping and looking at him."I am showing that cheques have already been issued for your account, Mister Potter, did you need more or," he glanced to their joined hands, "did you wish to set up a joint account?" the goblin asked as if desperately trying to remember how to set one of those up."Er no," Harry said, his hand springing from Hermione's to flatten down his hair. That's what he had forgotten; Barchoke had sent him cheques almost two weeks ago and he had promptly stuck them in his desk and left them there."I'm the one that wants an account," Hermione said primly before fishing out a small sack of money and placing it on the goblin's desk.The young goblin looked at her again. "Aren't you rather young for a human?""Yes, but I'm old enough to manage my affairs on my own without a magical guardian," she replied."I think there's an extra form for that," the goblin muttered to himself before looking for the required documents.Even with him helping to explain things, it took a bit of time to walk Hermione through the overly particular legal process. She didn't like the idea of a Blood Quill at all, though once he explained its place as a security measure against fraud and the goblin saying it would only be required once unless she specifically stated otherwise for added account security she began to see it as a rather sophisticated way of doing things.The next snag happened when Harry tried to transfer money from his account into hers to try and pay her back for her father being charged extra; she kept trying to lower it again. He maintained that the roughly twenty galleons she had deposited should have cost him one hundred pounds, but instead had cost him three hundred. Even if she refused to allow him to reimburse all of the extra cost, she had agreed to him reimbursing one hundred pounds of it, which at a normal rate would double her money."But you said you'd only be reimbursing for five pounds of the exchange rate," she said stubbornly. "If the rate had been ten instead of fifteen, three hundred pounds would've gotten thirty galleons, meaning it should be ten you give me, not twenty.""And if you take a third of the original muggle money and use the original exchange rate of fifteen then he only owes you six and two-thirds," the teller added helpfully. "Tell me, do all humans not like money? Because they seem to think it's just you," the goblin said, pointing to his right.They glanced over to see the nearest two tellers were staring at them like they'd never seen humans before. Harry found his voice before Hermione did."Ten's fine," he said sheepishly, filling out the transfer form before she could start arguing for six.It wasn't long before they were able to leave. Hermione had opted not to use a Blood Quill but only a magical signature, though she insisted that her chequebook should include a small ledger so she could keep track of expenses herself."Do you need to go back to the Leaky Cauldron so you can pick up your cheques, or do you just want to get started?" she asked as they made their way back down the street. "From what I remember, I should have more than enough to cover you if you run out, even if you go mad at Madam Malkins. Then we could double back when we're done and you could reimburse me.""But if we did that, you'd try to talk me down again so it'd be like I hadn't given you any money at all," he replied with a smile. Harry figured he hit pretty close to the mark when she didn't have a response so he just went on. "If Dobby were here"With a pop! the elf in question appeared before them, causing them to have to quickly stop or run over him. Harry couldn't help but notice the smudge on the pillowcase he wore and his face as Dobby handed him his chequebook and Blood Quill."Er thank you," he said as he pocketed the book."Are you alright?" Hermione asked, obviously concerned with Dobby's health."Oh, yes, Miss," Dobby nodded. "Dobby is cleaning the attic now. Dobby found a ghoul, sir," he said with a smile."A ghoul?" Hermione asked in shock."Does Harry Potter want Dobby to remove it?""Er Just ask Mrs. Weasley what she wants done with it," Harry said, knowing that if anyone would be open to even considering getting rid of the noisy thing that banged the pipes above Ron's room it would be her. Arthur would probably let it stay there for the rest of his life."I hope you're being careful," Hermione said to the elf. "We don't want you hurt again."Dobby's eyes darted to Harry, as if her prompting wasn't nearly enough for him."Yes, Dobby, do be careful," he agreed."Yes, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will be careful," the elf said energetically."Were you listening to us the entire time?" Harry wondered."Oh, no sir!" Dobby said, his eyes bulging. "Not all the time, sir. Dobby's old family didn't like Dobby to always be seen, so Dobby had to listen to know what was needed," the elf explained. "Did Dobby do something wrong?" he asked, his hands twitching anxiously as if he wanted to twist his ears."Absolutely not, Dobby, you're a very good elf," Harry said though he did have a bit of unease about the prospect of anyone overhearing what they say. "We'd just like a bit more privacy than that," he admitted. "Can I just call you when I need something?""Oh, yes, Harry Potter," the elf nodded, "Dobby can be doing that. Does Harry Potter need anything now?""No, Dobby, we're fine," Harry said, prompting the elf to pop! away with a smile."Having someone wait on me like that," he said with a shake of his head, "that's going to take some getting used to.""Having to get used to that possibly being a good thing is going to be the difficult part for me," Hermione said with a peculiar look on her face.His relationships had certainly become a lot more interesting..o0O0o.Madam Malkin's looked different than she remembered; smaller, though strangely less cramped with different colors of cloth. Though almost two years of growth could change perceptions like that, the store now seemed predominated by what she called Hogwarts Black, the more traditionally muggle type of clothes that went underneath, and the various accessories in House colors. The more colorful robes she saw the last time she was here were pushed aside for the start-of-term shopping blitz.The witch she remembered as Madam Malkin looked up when Harry entered and quickly gave him a bemused and exasperated look. She gestured to his hand-me-downs with a bit of a grin as she made her way over."If you've come here to charm me into charming those old things," the woman cut herself off when she saw her. "Oh, you brought your friend as a peace offering," she said with a smile, giving her a quick wink to let her know she was just ribbing him. It gave her an oddly squirmy feeling to know that he had mentioned her; she didn't know if she was nervous of any interest going public in case it failed miserably or was pleased that he reciprocated.Harry, still unused to having anything other than cursory relations with people he didn't know very well, looked embarrassed. "Er Yeah, this is Hermione."Making a snap decision, Hermione decided to take the onus on herself for keeping this from becoming awkward. "I was wondering," she said, a bit more professionally than she'd intended, "do you take in your old robes in order to resell them second hand?""There's a shop down the way that sells second hand robes, but not here, we don't," the shopkeeper said as if unsure what she thought of her. "Then again," she continued, her eyes flickering to Harry, "we don't do temporary alterations either, but who doesn't have a soft spot when it comes to him?"If there was one thing she could have said to make them both embarrassed, that was it."Did you want to go somewhere else?" Harry asked with a bit of a croak."No," Hermione said with as much dignity as she could as she fought to get the bit of color back out of her cheeks. "I was just wondering where to take my old things to help those in need.""Oh, I never thought of that," he said.She could almost see his brain divert itself away from embarrassment towards safer territory. She wished hers worked that quickly when it came to that; it'd make living with her father a much easier thing to do."I should do that too," Harry said finally. "It'd save me from running back here the next time I pick the wrong shirt."Hermione could see how he'd managed to charm Madam Malkin in the first place, and it was better because he did it without even realizing. If she didn't know any better she'd say that was purely self-deprecating humor, and there may be a bit of that, but a lot of it was clearly rooted in his own natural humility perhaps even the belief that he wasn't good enough; picked up from the Dursleys, no doubt. Careless adults really could mess with your head; if it hadn't been for her dad she might've been as bad as he is, not that she was far from to be honest."Business is slow today, thanks to that whole ordeal with the bank," Madam Malkin said as she looked them up and down taking mental measurements. "I could take them by if you've got them handy, assuming you don't want them to become collector's items that is," she said to Harry with a grin."No," Harry said with a scowl, "That wouldn't help anyone at all.""Well, we'll get you sorted out," she said with a wave. "Marjorie?" she called. After a moment she looked towards the back of the shop, "Marjorie? Oh, where is that girl?" she muttered to herself as she marched towards the back. "If she's mooning over that boy at Quality Quidditch Supplies""It isn't mooning if you've already got a date," a curly-haired girl a bit older than them said as she appeared from the doorway Madam Malkin was approaching. "Besides, you said I could find something to wear. He's taking me somewhere muggle," she smiled."Oh, look! Cutie's back," Marjorie said with a wink to Harry, making him blush and look elsewhere. "You want me to take him?" she asked her boss with a look that said it wouldn't be a chore at all."Only if you want to be single and unemployed," Malkin said with a look.Her assistant returned the look with a shrug that said that might not be that bad of a trade, which Hermione thought was going a bit too far."You take her," Malkin said, gesturing to Hermione before coming over to shepherd Harry away.She followed behind them quickly, wondering if taking Lichfield's advice and buying a Beater's bat wouldn't be a bad idea after all."You sell muggle clothes here?" Harry asked as she took her place on a stool near his in front of a large mirror."Just a bit so people don't make fools of themselves in public not that it helps any," Madam Malkin said as she pulled out a black Hogwarts robe that looked like it'd fit him. "Some people seem to take pride in not knowing anything about muggles; they go out in all sorts of things.""Like a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers?" Hermione asked curiously, drawing an odd look from Harry."I've seen a rather large wizard go out in a muggle woman's nightdress without an ounce of shame," Malkin said with a shake of her head. "Nearly had to Obliviate that memory away just to get to sleep."Harry peeked over at her as Malkin and her assistant helped them into outer robes."Do I even want to know why you asked that?""You should ask that old friend of yours over lunch today," she said meaningfully though what Harry thought of that she couldn't say."Do you have any clothes for daily wear?" he asked Madam Malkin as Marjorie started pinning Hermione's robes to the right length."You want them like this or those full robes the Ministry types like where you don't wear nothing but your nickers?" she asked, mortifying Harry again.Hermione tried to stifle her reaction to that but Harry couldn't help but notice."I meant normal clothes," he said with a reddish twinge to his face."That maroon looks good on him," Marjorie noted from her place by Hermione's knees. "It goes with his red face; might be a bit much for a full robe though," she admitted with a smile.With a tap of her wand, Madam Malkin changed the robe he was wearing from black to maroon. It was indeed too much maroon, with or without his blush."Green might look nice on him," Hermione said, not really knowing if she meant to save him or not."Oh, I could see that," Madam Malkin said, changing his robe to a nice green. "Or maybe"With a wave the robe became a bright green that shimmered at the slightest movement, the light glinting off it made him look like he were strewn with tinsel. Harry put up a brave front but if he got any more embarrassed his face would look like the bright star on top of a Christmas tree."Isn't that a bit flamboyant?" Hermione asked, finally coming to the rescue."Have you seen what Dumbledore wears? Now that's flamboyant," Malkin said, drawing Harry's face down in a scowl again. "Great wizards can get away with a bit of flamboyancy.""Well Harry's not like that," she said, mirroring Harry's discontent at how this was now going."It is a bit much," Malkin agreed, changing it back to the darker flat green. "That could work well for normal wear.""I look like a Slytherin," he groused, reminding her of something she wanted to talk to him about, though not in front of others."You don't have to be a Slytherin to like green," Marjorie said. "I was in Ravenclaw and it's my favorite color. I'm certainly not going to let them ruin it."Harry grunted in reluctant acceptance of that, making her wish there was something she could do to lighten his mood."Arms out, you two," Madam Malkin said as they began to fiddle with their sleeves.Hermione noticed that their fingertips were less than a foot apart; if she could lean over just a bit Harry must've seen her in the mirror because he glanced over, causing her to overbalance and almost go tumbling off the stool."Watch yourself," she saw Madam Malkin say as she looked forward into the mirror again. "You don't want to go falling head over heels now, do you? You'll find yourself pricked and then you could have a bundle of trouble," the woman said with a sly grin.Hermione felt her face redden and her only consolation was Harry looked a little confused rather than equally mortified. She'd left her dad was back at the Leaky Cauldron, this was not supposed to be 'Pick on Hermione Day.'After a moment she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye in the mirror. Looking at it she noticed that Harry seemed to have a little bit of a lean. Her eyes darted to find his in the mirror only to see his flicker away to examine the sea of black robes around them. He did gain a bit more of a lean towards her though.Trying to seem casual, though she knew the ladies around them wouldn't fail to notice, Hermione slanted herself ever so slightly, using the horribly inaccurate depth perception from the mirror to guide her way. She felt her fingertips meet his and couldn't help but feel a warm tingly feeling as a small smile grew on her lips. She didn't look at Harry, but she didn't need to; that little bit of him was all she needed.