Harry Potter and The Other

The small Potter cottage, where they had been hiding from the wizarding world for all these years, was bought in a Muggle suburban area under Dumbledore's name—just in case their faked deaths caused legal issues with inheritance. It was an excellent location—lots of greenery, a short walk to the coast—but due to its placement, the land couldn't be enchanted for concealment. Only light Muggle-repelling charms were placed on it to prevent curious passersby from visiting, and spells concealing magic were applied so that the Potters could cast spells at home without worrying about Ministry oversight. Otherwise, they had to live like Muggles. The real Harry had attended a Muggle school until the very end, and his parents taught him magic. As the only child in the family, he grew up spoiled and restless, neglecting both studies and magic.

Nevertheless, Lily was terribly dissatisfied with the grades of the substitute child at Hogwarts, whose grades her son Harry had inherited.

"Albus, why does that boy have such terrible grades?!" she scolded Dumbledore, making coffee while waiting for the arrival of the Order of the Phoenix's inner circle. The meeting was scheduled at the Potters' because there was no room at the Burrow, and the dilapidated house of Alphard Black, where Sirius had been hiding recently, was too filthy even for a dog, let alone people. "We studied far better—both me and even James. Our son would have done better than that Death Eater's son! You were the headmaster back then—you should have thought of Harry and given the boy excellent grades!"

"Lily... I already gave the boy many leniencies. I forgave him a lot; I turned a blind eye to his discipline. I even allowed him to play for the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his first year. Isn't it enough that Harry made Hogwarts history as the youngest Quidditch player?"

"As if Quidditch matters..." Lily's voice softened, though. "But what about the last year, Albus? Where did that boy waste the whole year when he was supposed to be working toward his certificate?"

"Lily, you forget that I was no longer headmaster then. Any complaints about the last year should be directed at Severus."

At that moment, Snape conveniently arrived via the Floo Network, and Mrs. Potter turned her attention to him. Dumbledore breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Snape, in turn, was saved by the arrival of the Weasley family—Arthur, Molly, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, who was staying with them at the Burrow since her parents were living in Australia, believing themselves to be the childless Wilkins couple. The twins were never included in inner circle meetings unless necessary—they were far too unruly.

Lily greeted the guests with the enthusiasm of a gracious hostess and called up the stairs to the second floor:

"Harry, darling, come down! It's time, and Ginny's getting bored!"

A few minutes later, Harry came downstairs to the living room, politely greeting everyone under his mother's watchful eye. He and Ginny were seated on a loveseat in the corner of the living room, while Lily began setting the table for coffee.

Sirius arrived late, just as they were finishing their coffee. Ignoring Snape's irritated muttering, "He was a slacker then, and he's still a slacker," Sirius glanced around and asked the first thing that came to mind:

"Where's Loony?"

"The last time I saw Remus, he told me he died and wasn't planning on resurrecting," Dumbledore said apologetically.

"Alright, let him lay low for now, that's what he does best." Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "When the time comes, I'll rouse him."

He sat down at the table and poured himself some cold coffee.

"How's it going with Gringotts, Arthur?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Yes, Gringotts." Arthur Weasley lifted his chin. "Two hundred and ten thousand galleons in compensation, and they won't budge. That damned goblin is holding firm."

"They've gone mad!" Lily exclaimed, well aware of the family finances down to the last knut. "Two hundred and ten thousand? What will we be left with?"

"Darling, we used to have more money," James ventured to remind her.

"Yes, we did—once! You have no idea how to manage finances, James Potter! Ever since I married you, you haven't brought a single knut into this house, and we had to live off something!"

"Lily, James, please don't argue," Dumbledore intervened. "Harry inherited the Black family fortune, so the compensation will be manageable."

"What do you mean—he inherited?" Sirius bristled. "I'm right here—me! James, we agreed this wasn't permanent."

"Sirius, my boy, retrieving Voldemort's Horcrux from the bank was essential for our victory, so all expenses are shared."

"Fine, I'll cover half the amount—one hundred and five thousand—but return the rest and the mansion too, because I'm tired of living in that shack, Uncle's inheritance or not."

"Clean it up, and it won't feel like a shack," Lily suggested, knowing about Sirius's living conditions. "You've got enough empty bottles there to fill a cart."

"Cleaning is for house-elves and women, and I'm never getting married. Once I get the mansion back, I'll finally make Kreacher work, but right now… alas, it's not mine."

"Sirius, you can't encourage house-elf slavery!" Hermione sat up straight, confident and full of moral righteousness. "You should free Kreacher and pay him wages, give him days off!"

"I should whip him, girl, he's gotten lazy. I should've done that three years ago."

"But—"

"Hermione, you're a kind girl, and that's wonderful. Get your own house-elves and free them as much as you like. Weren't you taught it's rude to make decisions about things that don't belong to you?"

"Quiet, please!" Dumbledore raised his voice to the laughing Sirius and the righteously indignant Hermione. "Hermione, calm down, Sirius is joking. First, we need to lift the freeze on Harry's assets, and then you and Sirius can discuss what to do with Kreacher."

Still fuming, Hermione obediently fell silent.

"Now, back to our finances," the old man continued. "Besides Harry's personal account and the Black inheritance, there's another account. For years, grateful citizens of Britain have been making donations to the Boy Who Lived, and this account, established by the Ministry at Gringotts after the First Wizarding War, started with a significant state award. Since then, it's been regularly replenished with donations, and just two days ago, another state award was deposited for Harry's second victory over Voldemort. This account also belongs to Harry, though Travers' son doesn't know about it. The amount now is comparable to the Black inheritance, and we'll use it to cover all the costs for the greater good."

Sensing a large sum, the gathering perked up and stopped bickering. Lily dropped her objections and agreed to the compensation payment.

The next day, the Potters went to the bank. James—to give financial instructions, and Lily—to make sure those instructions were correct. Harry still hadn't slimmed down to the necessary size and was undergoing treatment, so he signed over power of attorney to his father to manage his bank accounts. After the compensation was paid, the Potters had about three thousand galleons left.

James handed over the power of attorney to Goldgrabber and requested a full report on his son's assets. The goblin left to fetch the documents, soon returning to inform him that Harry Potter had only one personal vault.

"Only one?!" Mrs. Potter was horrified. "Our Harry also inherited the Black family estate."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're mistaken," the goblin replied coldly. "The Black estate went to another heir."

"To whom?!" she demanded.

"That is confidential information, ma'am."

"What about the account in the name of the Vanquisher of Voldemort? I was told it should belong to Harry!"

"Our magical verification system did not confirm that Harry Potter is the Vanquisher of Voldemort."

Lily Potter paled, nearly fainting.

"It can't be… Who else could be the Vanquisher if not Harry?"

"That is confidential information, ma'am."

"Then what does Harry have?" she whispered.

"Two hundred and twenty-three galleons, twelve sickles, and five knuts in his personal account."